Infertility is such bullshit.
Putting aside that Ben and I have been trying to expand our family for years; putting aside that we had to readjust everything we'd ever thought about having a baby; putting aside that getting pregnant involved doctor's appointments and blood draws; putting aside that we saw a heartbeat and then I had a miscarriage; putting aside the grief that we're dealing with.
Our lives are different, yet the same. We're planning for the year, but as I make plans, part of me wishes I couldn't go certain places, because I should have been too pregnant to travel.
Someone at work told me I look like I've been losing weight - normally that would make my day. Instead I went to the bathroom and cried, because by now I would have definitely been showing.
I can't even imagine how I'm going to be come August - the month we would have brought her home.
We can't just "try again." Getting pregnant doesn't just happen for me. It took us three plus years and two IUIs before we got a positive sign.
So now what?
We mourn the loss of our daughter until we feel - I don't know healed, or better, and then what? We try another IUI? We look at more invasive fertility procedures that we're not crazy about and know we can't afford? We look at adoption (even though that's just as expensive as those procedures)? We live child-free?
We were finally out of limbo - I was pregnant. We were thrilled. We were going to become parents.
And here we are again. Waiting. Processing. Grieving. Unsure.