It’s getting cold and the sun is gone and it’s CD1. I cannot believe how fast this summer has flown.
I spent the whole time more or less in tears with a permanent knot in my stomach.
Ever since 12 April, the beginning of our last BFP cycle, my life is a blur of progressive emotions: from excitement to anxiety to panic then grief. Just like that, 5 months gone.
It started out with the happiness of a new pregnancy and very quickly turned to anxiety as we discovered our baby’s growth wasn’t what it should be. Knowing in our hearts that something wasn’t right. July and August completely evaporated. After losing the sweet pea I really remember nothing at all. I know I was here, I can see the old posts, but I really can’t even recall much about that time. I guess grief is like that.
All my little pleasures in life ceased. No more tea with friends, no more photography, no more music, no more cooking, no more walks in the park. Just bed. Tears in bed. I still haven’t spoken to some friends, I have more or less shunned 99% of my social circle while I lick my wounds. And I don’t feel bad about it.
I can’t even really remember what else went on this summer. What other events or special occasions occurred? No idea. Oh yeah, the Duchess of freaking Cambridge fulfilled her womanly duties and gave birth to a monarch with ease and elegance. Biotch.
Maybe the change in season will allow me to regroup. To hunker down for the task at hand. Get my game face on. This is a challenge I’m dead set on winning. I feel like I can’t afford to lose.