So, I can’t think of a title but I want to post something, and I’m going to do it anyway.  Fuck it.  This past Wednesday was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, and it was something I didn’t really realize applied to me.  I don’t know why, I guess I still consider pregnancy a club that I don’t belong to, haven’t ever belonged to and have very little hope of getting into anytime soon.  I feel a bit blackballed, if we’re being honest, but that’s just because I’m feeling sorry for myself right now.  I’ll get over it, and I don’t want to get sidetracked on that at present.  I don’t think that I’ve really faced what it was, for me, that was so unbelievably, exquisitely painful about my miscarriage.  It was that I’d finally started to think of “it” as mine.  I’d started to have real hope, and dreams and to connect those things to a possibility that I’d not allowed myself to think about.  When I started to bleed I knew instantly that I would step in front of a train for this thing, and I wasn’t even going to be given the option.   I would have done anything……..

That’s not really a monkey-touching-the-monolith moment for anyone but me, I know.  I’m a bit slow on the emotional uptake sometimes.

Someone sent me a virtual candle on Wednesday, and I’d just not realized what that day meant to me, personally.  And for the last two days it’s been all I can think about.  I’ve been running pretty low on emotional gas lately.  Nothing seems to be working out.  Donors and possibilities of donors just dissolving as soon as I find them.  Every time I look at a new round of donor information, I only seem to be able to see what it is that I don’t have, will never have – instead of the possibilities.  I needed to remember what I’m fighting and searching for, and I think I have now.  It’s a marathon – it’s taken so much longer than I ever thought it would.  But I am not done yet.

And now, I’d better get some kind of work done before I get fired.