This seemed to help the last time, so I guess it's time to start writing again. Six months and 3 days after I delivered my stillborn baby girl, a baby boy followed. He only made it to 19 weeks, but his growth was at 17 weeks, so it seems to be a recurring problem. Scott and I decided a while ago that this would be our last try - I'm not strong enough to do this again. So now in addition to grieving for my baby, I'm grieving because I know I will never have a biological child. I think the pain is worse this time. Which is weird - I didn't think it was possible to be more sad than I was last June. I wish someone had told me it was - I wouldn't have tried to get pregnant again. At least if I had never gotten pregnant again, I could have deluded myself into thinking I could potentially bring a baby to term. Now I have to realize - my body is broken, defective, rotten.
I don't understand why this happened - no one in Scott's or my family seems to have trouble having children. Why do my babies die? Why is my body not good enough, not nurturing enough? I feel guilty I ever tried to get pregnant in the first place - I think all the time about whether or not my babies were in pain when they were dying, and I can't bear the thought that they were.
I keep thinking of the things I was looking forward to - Scott painting my pregnancy silhouette portrait, breastfeeding, even labor and giving birth - I'll never have these things. Adoption can give me a baby, but it can't give me back what I've lost, and it can't make me feel like a real woman, a woman capable of bringing life into the world.
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