Waiting...

I am still waiting for AF. I probably shouldn't have expected to see her on Sunday, but I did. On to CD 31 tomorrow and more waiting. I would have been 17 weeks today. I lost baby Rootbeer 10 weeks ago tomorrow. It is so weird. I feel like I was pregnant just yesterday, but at the same time I feel like it was years ago.

I went to see the shrink today. She has been on vaca for a few weeks so we should have had a lot to catch up on. Or um I should have had a lot to catch her up on. But I really didn't have much to say. She asked how I was feeling, I replied with "flat." She said I am depressed. She said she thinks I should consider calling my Dr to get on some sort of anti-depressant. Apparently, she isn't the prescribing-type of Dr.

Um no. I will not be taking an anti-depressant right now. Mr. Rootbeer and I are finally gearing up for TTC again and this is no time to be introducing new drugs into my body. I just want to feel better. I know that I can get through this without meds. Mr. Rootbeer totally supports my decision. So for now I wait...

Wait for my period...

Wait to TTC...

Wait to feel better...

Did I mention I am one of the least patient people on earth?

A death, a birth, and a few scorpion bowls

I went to church yesterday for the first time since the miscarriage. My great-aunt died and my family and I went to the funeral. I didn't forsee this being one of the things that sparks an all-out breakdown. Alas, it did. Here I was sitting in church, sandwiched between my dad and brother when it was time for communion. For anyone who hasn't gathered it from my previous blog posts, I just haven't been that happy with God lately. After receiving communion I knelt and prayed. I prayed for Aunt Rita's soul, I prayed for my Uncle Jack, I prayed for her children, grandchildren, and anyone else who is greiving. And then I realized that I never prayed for my baby. I never prayed for Baby Rootbeer's little soul. I started to cry a little but managed to hold it together until the service was over. When everyone had finally filed out of the church, I snuck off to light a candle and pray just for my little Rootbeer. I cried harder than I have cried in a few weeks. I have been holding it all in and trying to be strong, and this was my moment to let it out and do what I should have done a long time ago. I made peace with God. I asked him to take care of my little one until I got there. I begged him to bless Mr. Rootbeer and I with children, if that is his plan for us.

After the funeral I headed over to the hospital to welcome the newest addition to our family. My littlest cousin, "Baby Izy" was born Wednesday night. I was nervous walking in. I didn't want to cry or look upset, and take anything away from her day. But when I walked in, I couldn't have been any happier. She is so tiny and precious. I sat there holding her for about an hour, talking to her proud parents about the birth. I kissed her little nose, rocked her, and told her how much I loved her and how happy I was to finally meet her. I knew my entire family was watching me and exchanging nervous looks, and secretly gauging my reaction.

After the hospital I went home to let the doggies out and take a nap. I slept for about a half hour, and then the fun began. My friends and I try to get together once a week for dinner, it usually works out to twice a month due to scheduling conflicts and such. Last night four of us went out to a Japanese grill. The food was delicious, the scorpion bowls were strong, and the conversation was highly inappropriate. After we had had our fill we couldn't bear to leave each other yet, so we continued the festivities at a favorite local hangout. 4 beers, 4 cigars, and 4 drunk girls later...we finally left. I stumbled home and Mr. Rootbeer took advantage of me :) It was a fantastic night.