Two weeks ago, I was an emotional disaster. I was in the middle of losing my baby, angry at the world, scared out of my mind, yet hopeful that it was all a mistake. Hopeful that I would see my doctor Monday morning and find out that my baby was safe and sound, growing strong, and developing right on track. Boy, was I wrong. My doctor wouldn't even see me until that Thursday, almost one entire week after my miscarriage started. She humiliated me, punched me in the ovaries and told me to call when I got another positive HPT.
I've since found a new doctor, have discovered new hope for the future, and am feeling positive about what God has planned for us. I still burst into spontaneous tears and I'm still bitter when I see a pregnant belly in public, but I know that God will give me the strength to move past this eventually. I still can't make sense of why this happened, and I miss my baby angel with all my heart, but I do know that when I become pregnant again and am past the scariest weeks, I will be completely, utterly, massively 100% in love with every wave of nausea, every pickle craving and each and every stretch mark because, to me, they will mean my pregnant body is behaving like it should! And when my little Weetzie arrives into this world, he or she will be so loved and appreciated by mommy and daddy it won't ever look back!
"An angel wrote in the book of life, my baby's date of birth. Then whispered as she closed the book 'Too beautiful for earth'."