A little about my past...

Wow...my first blog post ever. Never thought I'd feel the need to express myself in any sort of "journaling" way....now I wonder why I didn't start sooner.

I have wanted a baby ever since I was about, say, 3. All I wanted to be when I grew up was a mommy....well, that and a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, but that isn't happening soon. ;)
Travis and I decided to wait until September to try to have a baby. It was all planned around school for me ( I am in school to become a elementary teacher) and we thought having a baby in June would be the perfect time for me to take some time off and be ready to be back hitting the books in August. So...we timed the good ol' sex, and lo and behold, 28 days later....we saw 2 lines on about 4 tests! (yes, I am neurotic) We were beyond ecstatic. Travis would kiss my belly every morning and we fell head first into planning our future as a "Mommy" and a "Daddy".

Something inside me told me that this was not right from the start though. Even though I enjoyed every minute of the baby related fun, I just had this gut feeling this may not last. I spotted my ENTIRE pregnancy! Some people say that they spot for a few days, but imagine going to the restroom everyday for a month and a half, crossing every appendage that you could, praying to God that there would be no sign of pink, brown, or red on the toilet paper. And now imagine being so disappointed when your fears were confirmed.

I had more ultrasounds in my 10 weeks of being pregnant than most girls have in the first 4 months. I went to the emergency room 3 times, and every time they just sent me home, told me not to worry, and try to take it easy. My husband thought that I was just freaking out about nothing..."Our baby is growing great!" I even got to see the little heartbeat on the monitor at 8 weeks, and the baby was on schedule. The OB said my spotting was just unfortunate stress on me, but that everything was going great. The ultrasound tech told me I only had a 5% chance of losing our baby. I tried to not worry about it, but in the back of my head, I knew they were all wrong.

At 10 weeks exactly, my worst fears became my reality. The bleeding became heavy, the cramps were unbearable, and I knew I was not going to be a mommy any longer.
I still remember the looks I received from everyone that early morning. They said "Poor Girl...I'm glad thats not me..." and I avoided eye contact with everyone for a few days. I felt like my whole world was ripped out from underneath me. It was like a scene from a movie....where the dork gets befriended by the popular kids, she gets all excited, and the next day she comes to school and finds out it was all a prank. I was waiting for the doctor to come around the corner and tell me I just got Punk'd. Unfortunately....this was not a bad joke...it was our reality.

I must have cried for 5 days. My husband even cried with me. I have never seen someone be so strong for me ever, he was truly my rock. I love him even more now that before (is that even possible?!) for going through this with me. There are still many days I think about it (almost everyday) and it just makes me cry. We loved our bean so much....now we have a angel in heaven.

I am now going on cycle #6 after my miscarriage. It happened so easy the first time. This time, it is taking a little bit longer. I am actually okay with that though. The more months that pass, the more I long for this child. The more I realize how lucky I will be to be able to bring a baby into this world. I pray everyday for our little miracle....and one day, they will be ours to hold.