ticker time.

it's just not.

Here's why you can't say everything's going to be okay:
It's too late for that.
Even if everything is okay for the rest of our lives, it already isn't. It already happened.

telling Josh.

I decided I couldn't wait. I felt like the secret joy was bubbling out of me.

I took the hpt from tuesday and taped it into a Christmas card and brought it out into the living room.
Can I give you an early Christmas present?
If you have to, he said.
So I hand him the card. He looks at it. Opens it and looks some more.
Are you pregnant? he says. That's two lines? Are you sure? He's not happy. He's not excited. Cool, he says.
And then he says, You get so frustrated with Mischa. Do you even want another baby?
So I reacted to that.
And then he gets up and goes into the kitchen and tells me not to get mad at him. And it goes on and on. He's not suprised, he says. Every month he's expected me to tell him that. He knew it was going to happen, he says. I didn't. He asks if I thought I was just ruined forever. Yes, I tell him and I cry and he holds me but still. He keeps talking and talking. And he pops every little bubble inside of me and by the end of night I wish I hadn't even told him.

Christmas.

Susan came over yesterday to give Mischa her present.
She told me that since she knew I didn't want any presents, she made a donation to March of Dimes in Willow's name.

I hate everyone else.

So I told Josh last night. It didn't go as well as I hoped.
I took a test and taped it inside a Christmas card.
I wanted him to do something. To be happy and excited.
Cool, he says but then he asks if I even want another baby and  he doesn't even hug me.
From there it just gets worse.
In the end I felt like I'd been crushed beneath his heel and when I woke up this morning my eyes were still swollen from crying.

He did use the phrase "the baby in your belly" a few times.

I wanted something better.

4 weeks, 1 day.

I told Josh last night. It didn't go how I wanted it to.

POAS this morning. Still pregnant.

Four Weeks.

I will be 8 months pregnant when the corn muffin mix in the pantry expires.
I am 4 weeks pregnant.
Telling Josh... tomorrow? The next day? Tonight? Maybe tonight.
I looked it up on thebump.com - the baby is the size of a poppy seed. That's pretty small. Hard to wrap. Maybe I'll just wrap all the poppy seeds.
I thought about buying a digital test but $10 seemed like a lot of money.
I like looking at the calendar and thinking about what was going on before I knew. The MOMS Club Christmas Party. The playgroup gift exchange. MOMS Club membership meeting. Seeing the mountain lion at the zoo with Jenny and Joshua. Taking Mischa to JCPenney for her birthday/Christmas pictures. Mandana asking "Where's the baby?" then going to Susan's and taking a shot of tequila(!). Getting my first pedicure. Josh making fish tacos.
I like thinking about that + test. Actually my tests look like =. Two lines.

Just two days ago I couldn't stand the thought of other people being pregnant. Now - congratulations. Blaine posted some pics on facebook, his girlfriend's pregnant, they're having a boy. Two days ago that would've made me want to puke.

I even posted a pic of my test in the Conception After chat thread. After it made me so nuts to see everyone else's and I thought posting a separate thread was a much better idea... I didn't even think, just did it.

Things are different on the other side.

But now I am again.

So. Here's what happened. I managed to temp on Saturday and Sunday. Temps were high. Sunday night and last night I slept in Mischa's room because she's sick. Yesterday I had cramps but they didn't feel like period cramps. So. I starting thinking. I had doubts about this cycle. I told myself I wouldn't even worry about it because I just started taking evening primrose oil. January would be my month. New year, new pregnancy.
But I started wondering. Yesterday I was feeling a little of that two week wait anxiety. I filled in my chart and Fertility Friend said I was 11dpo. Maybe my boobs were sore. Maybe.

So I wake up this morning. Maybe 12dpo. But no temp, no test. No need to be wasteful. But I really have to pee. And one of my tests is an old one. It expires soon.... February, I thought. Oh, no, April. Well, that's still soon.
So. I dipped the stick and I'm watching the dye. No. That's not a line. That's a trick. Let the test do it's thing, then check it. But that looks like a line.
Okay, go see what Mischa's doing. Wait a few minutes. Now check again. And that's a line. Not even a faint line.
Someone's in there.
3 weeks, 5 days. EDD September 1st.
I posted a pic on Conception After (and later felt bad about it because I always hated looking at other people's bfps). I joined the Expecting After group and the September DDC on MDC. I put a bunch of pregnancy books on hold at the library. I want to call the Dr and make an appointment but I might as well wait until after the holidays since they won't see me yet anyway.
3 weeks, 5 days.
I used my label maker and put my name in the little pregnancy tracker book that I got last time. I want to read things and tell people and fill things out. I don't know.
September 1st.
I hope this works out.
Josh came home for lunch and I managed not to tell him. Maybe I can wait until Christmas? Or Christmas Eve?

dead. that's where.

Walking out of Winco yesterday, I ran into a friend.
A friend I hadn't seen since June.
And here I am, obviously not pregnant.

"Where's the baby?"

The sad head shake. The awkwardness. Luckily, a cart full of groceries made for a quick getaway.

books.

Browsing in Cost Plus World Market, a little yellow book caught my eye. I picked it up. A little book of names and fortunes. 
I flip to her name.
"Willow," it says, "Proof that a difficult decision was the right one."

I can't forget.

Have I reached the statue of limitations on being weird and sad?

I have absolutely no desire to make small talk with people who don't know we lost a baby. And I really don't want to talk to people who know but never said anything.

I want to wear my heart on my sleeve.

"If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift." ~Elizabeth Edwards

forlorn.

Josh says to me today that I look forlorn. I tell him I'm no more forlorn than usual.

Mischa took an hour and a half to fall asleep. I managed to stay awake but Josh was already in bed when I came out and he was asleep within a few minutes.

So I laid there, crying for a few minutes. Laid there a few minutes more. Then decided to get up for a little bit.

I feel like I'm getting to the point where people are starting to think I should be over it.
But I'm not and I never will be.
My daughter died. But to the rest of the world she's just some baby that was never even born.
That sucks.

babyshower.

Terrie walked me out to the car after the babyshower last night.
I told her I hadn't known if I was going to make it. That I drove around the block a couple of times before I parked. She asked how it was.
I said, "It was okay."
What else could I say? It was fucking torture.
I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to play games, I didn't want to watch Rhonda open presents. I think the only thing that helped was that no one else seemed to be having a super great time either. I think it was just the mix of people maybe. A few of us with kids already and some of Rhonda's friends from high school who aren't near having kids. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me.
Rhonda sat there under her umbrella with little sparkles hanging down and I just wanted to leave. But I was sitting in the middle of the living room with Mischa.

I didn't cry. I guess that's something.

And I didn't take an ativan. But only b/c I wanted to get drunk when I got home. But then I fell asleep with Mischa and didn't wake up until 10. Josh was asleep by then, so I didn't even get to talk to him.

One of the girls there was Rhonda's babydaddy's brother's babymama - so, Rhonda's sister-in-law, I guess. Her baby is the same age as Adam. She was saying something about the more the baby's daddy denies them, the more they look like him and told Rhonda it was good that she wasn't breastfeeding, even though she did. Her kid kept trying to drink out of Mischa's cup.

It was okay. I won a prize for guessing how many candies were in a plastic cup. I won the cup full of candies.

Terrie gave me the angelbaby bracelet she got me. When she walked out to my car, she had her hand in her pocket, so I knew she had something for me. She asked if we were trying again, or actually she asked if we weren't trying and I said no, we were, it just wasn't happening. She said some things like "It'll get better" and "When the time is right" but I'll forgive her for that.
I wish she'd given me the bracelet when I first got there. I think I would've felt better. Maybe she was worried about me crying or something.

It was okay.
I guess it was okay.

Cujo and 5 months.

I think I wrote about this already, but I was thinking about it on our stroller walk today.
In the book, the kid dies. Because that happens sometimes. Sometimes kids die and there's nothing you can do about it. Even when you try, the kid still dies. The mom is beating the dog to death, and the dad shows up and says, "How long has he been dead?" You turn your back for a second to kill a rabid dog and your kid dies. Life is fucked.
But, hey, we can't make a movie where a kid dies. That'll bring people down. Kids don't die. And if they do, we sure as hell don't talk about it.
Well, fuck me, my baby died and I just wanted to watch a movie where a kid died and I can't even have that.

It's been five months. I listened to my deadbaby songs playlist while we walked. In case you're wondering, it's just titled "Songs" on my Zune. And I thought about my deadbaby and walked and waited for my livebaby to fall asleep.

Yesterday at the zoo, we're getting off the carousel and Susan's putting Benny in the stroller. She freezes. Then, "Ohmygod," she says, " I couldn't feel Katie breathing."
Oh, hey, my baby really is dead.
I started reading the memorial plaques that are stuck to almost every single thing at the zoo. She might've found it a little morbid. And I said something like "more people need to die so we can get more stuff here." Oh, I hope I don't make her hate me.

Rhonda's baby shower is tonight. I need to finish her gift.
I don't want to go.
But I guess I'm going.
Hey, yay, you're having a baby girl. Congratulations. My baby is dead. Deadbaby, deadbaby, deadbaby. My baby girl is dead for five months today. Happy fucking baby shower.

Five months. Am I supposed to be over it? I'm not.

We were talking about Christmas last night. Josh isn't getting the forced vacation he usually gets. I'm disappointed. I mentioned wanting to go to my parents and he told me he was only getting Christmas Eve off. I'm dreading everything about Christmas but I was looking forward to getting to spend some extra time together. And now all I get is another miserable holiday weekend at the in-laws where no one says a single thing to me.

Hey, I'm not over it. I'll never be over it.

and I'm not drunk, either.

Tuesday. I sat next to Nikki at storytime. She doesn't look that pregnant yet. The first time we met, she was huge, just days before Sophia's due date. It was awkward and I just wanted to get out of there but I didn't want to be rude to her. Sophia's looking like a kid.
I fell asleep with Mischa last night. Woke up at 10:30, she woke up around 11:30. Cried a lot during the night. Woke up when Josh was in the shower, but went back to sleep and we slept late and didn't leave the house all day. And today is only Wednesday.
I want this week to be over. (This month. This year.)

Made a FB friend. A girl from Something Awful. She terminated for skelatal dysplasia in 2006. Took her over 2 years to get pregnant again. Nice to have a deadbaby friend but shit, that's depressing. I already feel like this isn't the month for me.

Fuck it. I'll just wait till February and have another November baby.

Reading some posts on BBC. Kids with spina bifida. Yes, curiosity killed the cat. Oh, and I killed my baby. She could be here. She could be okay. Well, not okay. She would've had spina bifida. Surgeries. A shunt. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. But, still. I can barely handle a deadbaby. How would I handle a sickbaby? And it could've been bad just as easily as it could've been good.

 At least I could talk about it. People would ask.
Some people do, of course. Plenty of people worry about me and ask how I am (although it's fewer and farther between). It's my family that is lacking. I want to say, "Hey! My baby died! I do not want to eat turkey! I do not want anything for Christmas!"

A friend says, "You look good!" and I want to say, "It just goes to show - looks can be deceiving."

What I meant to say, coming here, was:
Thursday - that's tomorrow - is Concious Parenting. I think they met a few times in July and then stopped and now it's starting again. Sara's facilitating. Even if it was Joanna, I don't think I'd go. Highs? None. Lows? Still the same - deadbaby, deadbaby, deadbaby. So, fuck it.

Computer's almost out of juice. And I am, too.