Winter Insanity

Today was the first snow of the year here in Maryland. We got a good little bit - about 2 inches or so - not just flurries like I anticipated. I woke up and looked out of our window and saw the flakes falling onto the trees and onto the grass. I've always been a warmer weather kind of gal but I do love to see the snow fall. There's something peaceful about it. Of course, I had to go to work so driving in it is a different story. There's nothing peaceful about that.

Life has been very low-key in Chez Sticky. I've continued lounging on a self-imposed partial bedrest. I know logically that if a miscarriage is inevitable, nothing I can do will prevent it. But by laying down and doing squat after work, I feel like I'm doing something to help our bean grow. Maybe it sounds silly but after two losses, I just want to do everything I can to ensure our little one has a chance.

No matter how many times I tell myself to just enjoy this and go with the flow, I can't shake my worrywart-ness. Everytime I feel a twinge or a cramp, I wonder if that is the end. Everytime I sneeze, cry or laugh, I wonder if I somehow dislodged our little embryo. I analyze every symptom - or absence of symptoms, hoping they will give me some sort of clue as to whether this will be successful. Most times, I feel nothing and I'm left to wonder what's going on in there. And I know I'm still in early days, but it is hard for me to imagine defeating the IF monster and bringing home a live baby next summer. There are just so many hurdles to jump over and I know I must take it one day at a time. But, impatient as I am, I wish I had the remote control to life so I could hit the fast forward button.

I've tried to talk to my little Sunshine and coax him/her into staying. I've already bonded, although my anxiety raises just admitting that. I feel like I will jinx everything by becoming hooked. DH is much more hesitant to get attached. He rarely rubs my belly and he refuses to talk to it. I respect that and understand his need to put up a wall, but it hurts all the same. It's not just me who is guarded - my husband is also plagued by fear. If he were happier, perhaps I could release some of my worries. Or vice versa. But instead, we feed off of each other and create a universal sense of panic.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful at all. I look in the mirror everyday and I'm amazed that there is something growing inside me. I am so incredibly thankful for another chance at motherhood. Even if the outcome is questionable. I'm just petrified it will end in the same way the others have. I feel guilty for bringing another life into the world that my body could erase.

Benjamin Franklin once stated that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Am I insane for desperately wanting this to be different from the rest? I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my entire life.