Shrink, Shrank, Shrunk

I've been having a very hard time getting past my encounters with K and A. As I've said many times in the past, I usually bounce back pretty quickly.

On the day of my ultrasound where I found out there was no heartbeat, I went back to work (mostly because I didn't know what else to do). I had my D&C on a Friday and was back at work on Monday, for half days at least.

I'd get a negative blood test and start thinking about the next cycle and how quickly I could start. Some may say that I didn't give myself adequate time to mourn each disappointment, but I did. In my own way. Sometimes it was several days later. I would need to be alone. I would go shopping. Get a massage or a pedicure. All things that would allow me time to think and move on.

This time, however, I was unprepared for what I was feeling, to the point where not only was I unprepared but I didn't know how to categorize it. In the grand scheme of things, I talked to K for two days; A for a little less than a week. It sounds trivial.

But it wasn't.

I poured my heart out to these women. Felt as though they had allowed me into a special place with them. They gave me hope. They made me think about a baby as a tangible being, with a due date and a gender. Suddenly this wasn't a nebulous thing for some future date. This was a girl to be born on October 29. A boy to born on March 10.

And in both cases, I dared to dream. I thought about names and decorations for the nursery. I thought about each of these babies as they were growing up, with me as their mom.

And in both cases, it wasn't meant to be.

After two weeks of being in a complete funk, I finally called my former therapist. She's retired but allows me to see her when I need a "check in."

I saw her today, and while she told me all the things I've been hearing from my friends, but not necessarily believing -- you are strong, you've been through worse, you will get through this and you will trust other birth mothers -- she also told me something that finally put this all into perspective.

"I will not diminish your miscarriage, but these situations are like a miscarriage. For a short period of time, you thought you were having a baby. Each time, there was something very real and concrete to hope on. And each time, it was suddenly and inexplicably taken away from you. One day you're pregnant, the next you're not. One day, you're expecting a baby from another woman's womb, and the next, it's gone."

And with that one simple, yet profound statement, it all made sense. This was not just someone lying to me, not just some whack-job. This was bigger than that. And I need to mourn these situations, as such. Mourn, compartmentalize and move on. As I've done before.

And so, a little reflective time. Maybe some tears (but now I know exactly why I'm crying). And maybe, just maybe, a trip to the spa.