A couple of days ago I miscarried my fourth pregnancy. Granted there were several silver linings to it; I knew this one wasn't viable because I had absolutely no pregnancy symptoms, I didn't really feel mentally prepared for a second baby, not being pregnant means I can continue losing weight so I don't have to worry about preeclampsia and gestational diabetes when I do become pregnant again, and we have our son so this one wasn't as devastating as the the others... but it is still a sad thing. I had already nicknamed this baby Pumpkin and had been dreaming of pink headbands and frilly dresses just in case it was a girl. We had thought up names for the baby no matter what sex it turned out to be. But listening to me in the ER while they told me I was to lose this baby and reading my subsequent blog posts... you'd never know I was hurting.
I was thinking about it yesterday and to everyone except my husband I seem like the most happy, calm, and understanding person in the world. But really, I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks, worry about EVERY SINGLE THING, and constantly worry about what others think and feel. DH says it's because I'm a giver and I want to make others happy, even at my own expense. I just don't understand how I can be so calm and understanding for everyone but myself. If I can pretend to smile long enough, I find that before long I am actually smiling... why can't I do the same with my own emotions?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
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