This Shit Sucks.

This whole stupid process sucks.

One day you're picking out the crib your mom says she'd like to buy you as a gift. Two days later you're staring at your chart online wondering how on earth your betas could be cut in half in those same two days. You get that same cut-in-half feeling in your heart when you look up at your husband and tell him its officially over.

The same husband you've seen play with your niece and run around with your friends kids. Seen idolized by the neighbor boy. The same one that holds you now as your cry, while he holds back his own tears so that he can be strong for you.

It's not fair.

It sucks.

To hear the pity in the words of those that try to console you. To read the words of people with good intentions, but without the most vague understanding of what you're going through. Who's tone in their voice and written words sting more because you know they're trying to help, but really now you just feel more guilt that more people feel bad.

I do feel loved. Each of you that has reached out to us, the messages I've received about understanding what we're going through, the love and the prayers... Those do make a difference. Some break my heart because what we're going through is unfortunately common. I hate that so many others suffer too. I pray that Sprout is up there now looking after all of your babies yet to be born and coaching them from the stands.

I'm trying to take comfort in the fact we got pregnant at all. Trying to remind myself that Sprout wasn't healthy and this isn't a pregnancy or a child that would have been happy. That it isn't over for us and we can try again. And intellectually I understand all of those things. But it doesn't change the anger and the pain one bit.

All of this sucks.

The extra 4lbs I now have, of mostly bloat (I hope), and nothing to show for it.
My pizza face, which is now extra pizza like.
The cramping that started today.
Putting away the baby gift we received so that I don't have to see it sitting in what would have been the nursery.
Jeremy handing me the onesie I gave him the day we found out so that I can put it away too.
Telling our friends, who were so excited for us, that they're no longer going to be aunts and uncles.
Hearing my mom hold back her own tears so that she doesn't upset me further.
Going from celebrating with the other women you know that are also newly pregnant, to being scared of what it will be like to watch their healthy children grow and be born.
Putting away the sketches I'd made of nursery plans.
Not knowing what to do with the books on pregnancy I've been given. Do I keep them for 'someday' or give them back?
Looking at the anniversary card J gave me on Tuesday. The one addressed to Sweetpea +1. The same one where inside he wrote how excited he was to have our baby.
Being scared of what miscarrying will be like.
Thinking of how I will explain this to my boss.
Starting over.

I'm pissed and my heart is broken. I'm torn between wanting to give up for fear of ever having to feel this way again and not wanting to let whatever force in the universe it is that causes this pain win. But why me? What the hell did I do to deserve this shit? What did J do to have to suffer through all of this? Why us? Isn't there some crack head or woman on welfare that already has 14 kids you can pick on? We're good people. After 10 years we're closer than we've ever been and still madly in love. And even after only 7 weeks we loved our baby.