The bleeding and cramping finally started.
It hasn’t really gotten bad yet.
I keep expecting it to get worse… I actually hope it does.
I haven’t taken any of the Percocet, either. The pain isn’t unbearable, and at this point, I want to feel it.
I feel like if I’m not in pain, then none of this was real.
I guess the only thing I really want is for this to have been real. Too often, people want to “move on” or “start over”, and while I want those things too, I don’t want to move so fast that I forget, that others forget.
I understand the urge for loved ones to reach out to support the husband and I, and while food and friendship, kind words and offers of a shoulder to cry on are lovely and much appreciated, what we really need is for people to acknowledge what we are feeling, what really happened.
Our baby died.
Our baby died, and now I’m physically dealing with that, as well as the emotional and psychological torture of miscarriage.
Our baby died, and and I don’t want to medicate the memories away.
Our baby died, and I want to feel the pain so that I can always remember.
Our baby died, but our baby was alive, ours.