If you are looking for an upbeat entry this is not going to be it.

Last night was the hardest night since I came home from the hospital.  I found out that 2 people due after me had little girls- and one was using the same nickname as we had been using.  It is a common one, but still.  I was, to pit it mildly, an epic disaster.  I sat on the floor with my knees pulled up against my chest and wailed.  I scratched the skin on my arms so hard I left deep red welts today.  I would not let Jason touch me let along comfort me.  I did not want to be comforted.  My princess was supposed to be first- not dead.  Everyone else is bringing home their sweet little bundles of pink joy and my little princess is rotting somewhere in an unmarked grave.  They have snugly pink blankets, my Gabbi has tiny linen shrouds.  They have mobiles and toys.  I don't even have a headstone.

I cracked.  Why God had to send both in one day I have no idea, but it was just too much for me.  I feel like the
last remaining threads that had been barely holding my soul together have been cut.  I am at odds with myself and with the world.

I would not let Jason touch me.  I just sat on the floor and wailed.  I now understand for the first time the idea of wailing as a form of crying and what the difference between the two is.  The sound coming out of me was more animal than human.

Although it was the middle of the night Jason ended up calling one of my strongest supportive friends who got me calm enough to at least see my through to taking the medication that helps to tranquilize and neutralize these horrible anxiety attacks.  I let her hold me and calm me down and did eventually manage to fall asleep.  In fact, I slept right through the Yom Hashoah sirens this morning.

Which, by the way sucked as well.  I had my follow up appointment with my Ob/Gyn.  She seems to think that the chances of another unexpected pregnancy are pretty darn slim.  I left that appoint feeling about as crappy and crappy can be.  I am writing now with  my soul in pieces, my heart torn out of my chest, and my head reeling in so many different directions that I don't know which way is up.

I feel like all of the steps forward that I have taken have only lead me around in a giant circle to bring me back to where I started.  I feel like I have not really made any gains and I feel like there is no hope for getting pregnant again.  I feel like for some reason God has been toying with me and just keeps coming back and saying "how else can I screw with Rachel today?"

My friend last night pointed out that at least it all happened in one fell swoop so I can start to heal again and hopefully it is all going to start to get better once and for all.

Yeah, like I really expect that to happen.

I am so mad at my Ob/Gyn right now for killing, crushing and mutilating any tiny drop of hope I had left in my soul.

The worst part of it all was she admitted that she pretty much knew it was over before she called the ambulance.  And that if I had gone in the middle of the night things really might have worked out differently.  She told me not to blame myself that it could have happened to anyone, but now that I know that there might be something I could have done I will never, ever, ever, EVER be able to forgive myself.  The guilt and blame that I see in my eyes when I  look in a mirror are never going to go away.

As always, please keep praying for a miracle full term healthy pregnancy with a full term healthy miracle baby even though based on my appointment today I have given up hope.