Labor Day Weekend

The next day, I went to a Footsteps for Fertility 5k for a good friend, distant relative, and co-worker of mine. I had signed up to run and support her days before I found out I was pregnant. And the day after I found out I was not pregnant, I showed up to run. I didn't see many of the people I work with. Which was good. It was hard for me to be there. My mom was there though. And after the race, we sat in her car and I cried just a little. Feeling exposed and vulnerable is not something I enjoy and it is hard for me, but it felt good. My mom never had a miscarriage, and she expressed how sorry she was. I think somewhere inside her she wished she had so she could better support me. But I am glad she never had to, of course. I think it has been good for me to experience this, since I had to at all, independent of any family history of miscarriage. I don't know why, I just do. I think it's because I don't love when people take a hard situation and compare it to their own hard situation. Some people, like me, grieve better independently. But that's a loaded statement too, because I needed Chase. I needed those few hard talks with my mom. I needed Lauren, who was out of town during all of this. She apologized for not being there, but I think it was good for me to lean on my mom. And have the conversations I needed to have with a woman, with my mom. I needed to know of those miracle births, of people who "couldn't" have kids, who did. I needed to know I wasn't alone. I just didn't know I needed it yet. My friend did win a portion of an IVF treatment at the 5k, and I couldn't be happier for her. My mom and I then went to my cousin's baby's baptism. She is pregnant with her 7th child. Yes, seventh. She had issues in the beginning, and they obviously all worked out. But that day, all I saw was a pregnant belly I didn't have, six kids I didn't know if I would ever get. But I believe in doing hard things. Showing up to face a fear, rather than staying home to wallow and hide.

I kept bleeding. I wanted to do anything but sit home and think about how sad I was. How I would feel when April 30th came around. What if I have a genetic defect that makes my eggs worthless? What if I have another miscarriage? What if five years from now, I am no closer to having kids? What if I never have a baby? I tried to be optimistic, but these are all legitimate concerns that inherently come with a miscarriage.

Chase took me up to Park City. Jeff and Megan came too. It was good to have some fun and get my mind off of it. But the major bleed happened while we were there. Dr. Barton had asked that if there is anything other than blood, that I try to save it and bring it in. I guess they can test it for causes, possibly preventing another miscarriage in the future. I couldn't do it though, and there wasn't much besides blood. I stood up, felt it, ran upstairs, and ten minutes later it was over, mostly. Chase checked on me, but I did it alone. Not that I had to do anything, other than wait.