Pregnancy after Miscarriage

I've decided to use this blog to try and keep track of some of the things I'm feeling this pregnancy...of the changes that are going on in my world and how they are affecting me. I hope I can use it not only to talk about the hard things, but as a place to share joys as well. Our other blog is more dedicated to updating family on the status of CJ and now the new baby. I don't really find my voice there as I rattle off CJ's accomplishments for the week. I don't know. I just feel like I've lost myself a bit.

I am now 23 weeks pregnant. By all accounts I'm healthy with a healthy and thriving baby inside of me. He or she moves a lot although not as much as CJ did. I should be extremely happy right now. I am. Really. Sometimes I have to remind myself, but I really am. I just never had any idea how hard being pregnant after a miscarriage would be. Lucy's (the daughter we lost) due date came and went somewhere around when I was 10 or 11 weeks. It was an ending of sorts. Once the date passed, I realized that it wasn't a dream. She wasn't coming. It was hard. So many said getting pregnant again will make up for the loss, but it doesn't.

I have been struggling to find out what lesson I was supposed to have learned by her passing. I look in the mirror as I grow bigger and worry that something will still happen with this pregnancy. I'm too cautious and too tired. I am worried that my fear and worries are effecting the baby inside of me. I get angry too often.

Mourning is a hard thing when you've lost a pregnancy. It's private. It's not something you are supposed to share with others. People have so many views on pregnancy, viability, fetuses v. babies. This miscarriage gets tied up into those things. It brings up to people the abortion debate. If I mourn a "baby" that only made it 11 weeks inside of me, then I am giving power to a pro life movement. If I don't then I am denying my true emotions. All of these things become so complicated for people, it seems best not to bring them up. It's best to simply not talk about it at all as if it never happened. The problem is that it did. The problem is that it will affect this pregnancy and any other pregnancies I may experience. I am not going to discuss my political views here, but on a personal level I am trying to mourn the loss of a child that I rarely feel comfortable even mentioning. It's strange and lonely to be in this position.