What I Hate Right Now

I'm hating on my body right now.  Really hating.  More than half of the clothes I own don't fit me.  And being in a dressing room makes me cry.  Clothes that are one size up are too big in most places.  So I'm stuck.

I'm frustrated because I lost all of the Michael baby weight, plus some, which was good.  And then in late May and into June, I started to gain back that extra weight I had lost.

My eating habits changed, I'll admit it.

On July 2, I found out why.

I was pregnant.  With a total accident/whoops baby.  With a 4.5 year old, and a 7 month old.

Good thing we bought a mini-van that morning.

I wish I could say that I was excited when I saw that positive show up on that test.  You know how people talk about their blood running cold when they're scared?  Well, I can attest to that.  I know I was shaking.  Because what the hell were we going to do come January/February with an almost 5 year old, a 14 month old, and a NEWBORN?!?  How was I going to handle being at home for 12 weeks, recovering from a c-section, chasing after a 14 month old, and trying to meet the needs of a brand new baby?

Well, my fears eased a bit.  I read some blogs written by mothers of "Irish Twins," and I started to calm down.  I started to be okay with what was going to be our new normal.

But just as I was starting to adjust and accept this, we were given the news that yes, I was pregnant, but the initial ultrasound showed no baby.  I knew it the minute the picture went up on the screen.  There was nothing.  It was essentially empty.  No little blob.  No little gummy bear.  And blood tests confirmed that my hormone levels were dropping, not doubling.

I was hoping that my body would take care of things on its own.  But nothing has happened yet.  And maybe I just need to wait longer.  I don't know.  My body doesn't like to do things normally.  With the last baby we lost, it took 4 months for my hormone level to to resolve itself, and even then, it still didn't hit absolute zero -- it just got down to below 5, which the medical profession considers a resolve.  So we've scheduled a D&C, I'll get my blood tested every week for as long as it takes, and I'll wait for my hormone levels to drop back to normal.

But for now, I still hate my body.  I hate my body for putting on weight.  I hate my body for putting me in this place where I can't wear my regular clothes, and I can't wear maternity clothes, and I've really got nothing that I can wear.  Superficial, I know.  But it's significant in my mind right now.  I hate my body for rejecting this baby.  I hate my body for not doing things normally -- ever.  I hate my body for not cooperating.  I hate my body for making me feel like shit.

And it's going to take time for me to feel better about any of this.  Because while this baby came as a surprise, it was still loved and wanted, and I hate myself for losing it.