Still sitting here crying 2 months later.

How do I choose to spend my Monday afternoon at work?  Bawling hysterically in my office, of course.  I wouldn’t expect anything more out of myself.  After realizing I’m getting zero work done I decided maybe I’d just sit here and write.  Maybe it’ll help.  Maybe it won’t.

2 months later and my heart still feels shattered.  It aches and longs for the baby I was so excited to meet.  I’m amazed daily on how I can love someone so much that I never even got to physically meet.  How I can miss someone so freaking much.  I simply want my daughter back.  That’s it.  That is all that can fix this awful, broken heart.  My baby.  The baby I’d of sold my soul for, if it kept her alive.

It isn’t freaking fair.  I hate it.  I hate this feeling.  This empty, pain in the middle of my chest.  You can actually feel your heartbreaking.  You can feel the hole that was left.  It hurts.  So bad.  Then you have all the people in the world getting pregnant with babies they don’t want, babies they will abort, babies they will neglect and abuse, babies that will never feel genuine love.  It’s bullshit.

So, yeah, the constant crying.  It’s become my life lately.  Somedays are better than others.  Last night it peaked back up though.  Subconsciously, I’m assuming my mind noticed the date before I consciously figured it out.

Part of my issue is I’m so struggling with the fact I will NEVER get to have my own baby again.  It isn’t possible without IVF.  Max says he doesn’t want to continue.  I’m not continuing alone.  I’m not bringing a child into this lonely world to feel as alone as I feel.  That isn’t fair.  I will NOT let this cycle continue.  Without his agreeance – We’re simply done.  It’s over.  I went from feeling hopeful with some embryos, to being soooo happy we were successful after 3 transfer and 6 embryos….  To having no embryos, my baby dying after beautiful scans and heart beats and not having the option to continue.

I’m angry – I’m so angry this decision isn’t mine.  I’m so angry that I never got to wake up and decide – hey, I don’t want to try and have a baby or hey, I’m done having kids.  That choice was made for me – By everyone and everything – but myself.  My body, my ex-husband, my partner.  They all simply said no.  My body refused to make it easy.  My ex-husband refused to dive into fertility treatments during my younger years – when I’d of had more eggs, healthier eggs.  Max decided he’d had enough and didn’t want to do it.

Not a single time has this been my choice.  I think that’s what hurts so freaking much.  This wasn’t a choice I was ready to make for myself.  This wasn’t a dream I was ready to give up today.  Not after being so close.  After seeing those lines.  After watching my sweet girl move around and watching her beautiful heartbeat perfectly.  Finally, hope, dreams, ideas.  Getting to spend hours just looking at how I’d decorate her room, what kind of crib I’d buy, the beautiful clothes I’d get her.  Dreaming of the moments we’d spend snuggling, the painful, joyous occasion of her birth.  I spent 12+ weeks building an entire life inside my head.

A life that will never happen.  A life that instead of baby snuggles and smiles is full of emptiness and pain. A life that will now be just me, alone, as usual.

I hate that.  I hate this.  I hate the level of pain I feel.

It.  Hurts.  Badly.