The pushing of the reset button has finally worked. The Provera was supposed to start the cycle within 1 or 2 days. It took 4 days before any spotting even started. So, we're moving on.
I'm afraid of infertility problems again. We had 18 months of infertility charting, crying, and waiting that finally succumbed to the second round of Clomid to create CurlyGirl. I'm so afraid that there will be something like that again.
Whatever comes, God will be with me and you. 
My Dr put me on a week's worth of a progesterone supplement (Provera) to help clear everything out and "reset" my cycle. Today is day 2 without the supplement and I'm still waiting for the bleeding to start.
I'm very tired. I have some small cramping and aching hips. I can't cough without wanting to vomit. For me, these are all signs of pregnancy. Unfortunately, they are also all signs of progesterone. Except for the vomit-cough thing. That's my own personal lovely.
And it does make me get my hopes up, damn it. I hope that there is a baby. I hope that the bleeding will start so there can be a baby. I am just sick and tired of waiting.
Whoever said Patience is a Virtue ought to try being the mom in the first cycle after miscarriage.
I haven't been to church in several weeks. I've been a little angry at God lately. But I had to go today to fulfill my monthly singing commitment. I was less than enthusiastic
I am so glad I went. I felt the peace and love just raining down upon me today. I still feel the hurt and loss of my little one, but it feels buffered now by the peace of Christ.
I still want another child. It wouldn't hurt my feelings to come up pregnant before next month. But I don't want to replace my little Michael so I'm thinking hard about my desire. Is desperate the right word? No, I think that is too strong. Hopeful, I think, says it best.
Before I became pregnant with Michael, I felt a strong desire to have another child. I was saddened, seeing my three year old boy growing into a strong, independent man-child. I saw my three girls growing into young ladies and I missed the time they were sweet little bundles. I felt that our family wasn't done yet.
And then Michael happened. The joy of him, even for 12 short weeks, is upon me still.
I don't know if our family is done now, or not. We're going to let God take care of it. Being Catholic, we don't believe in artificial birth control, but respecting the ebb and flow of the female cycle through Natural Family Planning.
Lord, be with us, with me, each day. Guide my steps in your path. Let me be your servant.
I'm working on becoming a La Leche League leader this year. It's brought me together with some amazing women. One woman, L, announced her pregnancy and due date similar to mine before my loss.
I was so happy and excited for her! We would be "twinners" and both working on leadership. Our babies would be of similar age and play together at meetings. L is a loving, caring, personable woman that I want to be like when I grow up.
Now, after the loss of precious Michael, I find it so hard to be happy for her. So hard to see her and be near her. I know that they tried very hard to have this second child. I know that they suffered a miscarriage much like mine with great heartbreak. I know how lucky she feels to be carrying her new child with no problems indicated. And I wouldn't wish her bad for the whole world.
But I feel so jealous. Why does God like her better, to allow her to have her baby and take mine? Why do I have to like her so much, to hurt so much? Why did God take my baby?
I see her all the time, when before I didn't see her often. L attends my church, our mutual La Leche League meetings and Leader Applicant meetings, the same community outings as we do. And it hurts so much it BURNS. I find myself staring at her belly. I feel so rude to do it, but I can't draw my eyes away. I know she understands and feels sorry for me, but that doesn't bring my son back.
So, maybe next month I'll attend the LLL meeting and be able to say that I'm pregnant again! Maybe my body will kick in and cycle normal again before the next meeting. Maybe I'm making a dumb choice, trying to be a leader right now. Maybe the tears won't roll down my face every time I face this blog. Maybe my laughing at funny things won't turn into sobbing next month. Maybe I won't be so mad at God next month.
Maybe next month it won't hurt so much any more.
Tomorrow is the one full month mark from when I found out Michael had died. A few days ago the image of his so still body on the ultrasound screen would not stop playing through my head. The concern in the face of my doctor, her worry expressed quietly so as not to alarm my other children who were all present. The assistant running the ultrasound machine who would not confirm what I already knew. The words of the radiologist resonating through my head "I'm sorry, I don't see any heart tones." The long, one hour wait for Hubbers to come into town from the work site, when I sat and stared at nothing, refusing to think or cry. The beginning of this lifelong heartbreak.
I told the big blue mail box to go F itself tonight. The sign on it said that anything over 13 oz has to be taken in and handed to an employee or it may be returned. Safety issues, you know... I was trying to AVOID going into town to mail something for PaperBackSwap.com by using stamps.
Sucks to be me.
I dropped that damn book in anyway. F you, post office.
Stupid Nicole Richie, the same amount pregnant as I was supposed to be. Stupid her on TV that I hardly ever watch but did tonight. All the shit she has going on and I am the one who's baby dies? I honestly don't understand. It's all well and good that he's in heaven, but he's not here and that just f-ing hurts.
It was the first time since the day we found out about the death. I thought it would hurt, feel different, be just wrong or sad.
And it was sad, but not... at the same time.
