Almost

I almost didn't notice what day it was...almost. I was on facebook leaving happy birthday messages for a couple people and I glanced at the date...October 9th. Funny thing is that I have been typing things this morning with the date on them and have written out the date at least a half a dozen times already - but it wasn't until I coupled it with a birthday that the painful truth surfaced on my conciousness.

Today we should be celebrating our sweet child's second birthday. I should be worrying about balloons and cake. I should be party planning instead of fighting back tears. Two years after that loss we have yet to have a successfull pregnancy. We've lost two more and have had months and months of heartbreaks...each time there is only one line on that test a little bit of our hope is chipped away.

Even if we were not actively trying, we kept hoping that someday our miracle would happen. Full of optimism and hope, we approached our Dr about fertility treatments again. In fact, we just finished three rounds of Clomid - for some reason I thought it might work for us this time....I should have known better. I didn't tell many people about it because I didn't want to get anyone else's hopes up and I didn't want everyone constantly asking if I had ovulated or if it worked. Feeling like a failure is easier if you don't feel like you've also disappointed everyone else around you. So I (and poor Nathan) suffered through hot flashes, mood swings, irratibility, cramps, and dashed hopes for four months...all for naught.

Losing a baby is not easy - and in a way I am glad that of the three, I only remember one due date. I think there is a part of my brain that has shut out the dates and memories of the second and third losses...a defense mechanism, for my heart.