And it's over. Again.

Not much to say right now. The last two days have had ridiculous highs and unimaginable lows. Yesterday morning, we met with our midwife for the first time. It was awesome. We both really like her. She really bridges the whole metaphysical, transcendental woo-woo side of home birth with a more practical outlook that Brian and I really appreciate. I really look forward to being able to work with her. It was awesome. I was super thrilled that she was going to be our support.

Then.

Then I started spotting around noon. It was brown, and as Brian let me know "Brown is Bueno!" Just old blood. Which is what I told myself after I checked about every hour. Then the blood turned red. Bad news bears. I left work early, called our midwife. At this point, there was not much she could do. If I wanted, I could call a doctor and have some tests done to see if I was still pregnant or not. I decided to hold off. Wait and see. There's not much a doctor would be able to do anyway, I figured.

Today at lunch, I called the doctor that my midwife recommended. They wanted me to go in ASAP. I did. But to the wrong place. After getting hysterical and yelling at the nurses in labor and delivery (I apologized several times afterward) I got to the right place. I really liked the doctor I worked with. He was really gentle and helped me calm down. We did an ultrasound and, as of 2:45, the embryo was still alive. I even got a picture. But there was more blood than he liked. He gave me a prescription for hormone suppositories to strengthen the placenta (or something) and told me to take it easy this weekend. Have a Netflix Weekend, he told me.

After picking up the prescription and some food to last us through the weekend, I went home and got on the couch. And I haven't moved except to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the blood has gone from brown to red to dark red with little clots. And then there was the cramping. This blood isn't stopping. So now I am examining the toilet every time I go to the bathroom for some tissue matter about the size of a pea. Because that's how big the baby books says my embryo should be.

Right now I feel pretty damned devastated. And really really angry. I know these things happen. I know it's for the best. There was probably something wrong with the embryo. Or the placenta was not forming correctly. When it happens, it'll be just right. I know this. But really, I just want to scream and rail about how unfair this is. I've already done this. I have this t-shirt. No one wants two "miscarriage" t-shirts. And I see babies everywhere and I want to cry. I see those stupid Teen Moms on the covers of the tabloids and I want to punch them in the face. Why should their baby reach full term when mine cannot?

And deep down inside, I think there must be something wrong with me. In the past 6 months, I've been pregnant twice and I've miscarried twice. Clearly, the problem isn't with fertility. I can get pregnant. I just can't seem to STAY pregnant.

I guess I did have a lot to say.

I didn't think having a baby would be easy. But I didn't think it would be this hard either.