New cycle, one month to go

My first period after the miscarriage started today. Not a particularly happy day, I'm kind of emotional. The fact that I have a cold doesn't help. But I'm teary, and a little sad. I guess that, in a way, reality kicked in. The good part is that we only have one month to go before we try again. I can't wait. And at the same time it scares me to death. Today I told about it to some of the girls in a VBAC support group I belong to. Surprisingly, I got a bunch of particularly understanding responses from some of them. Apparently it's way more common than anyone thinks. I should know, my mom and my sister have been through this before. But yet no one talks about it. That should change. Let's take some drama out of something very dramatic. I'm just glad I have this amazing group of extra strong women to count on.
Note to myself: don't ask people when they are going to have the next baby, or the first baby, or any kind of baby. You don't know what's going on on their reproductive lives. I got asked twice today when I'm having the next one. Not a question I want to hear right now. But, how would they know, if we just don't talk about it?
I guess that so far this blog is being more about the journey than about the VBAC. I hope the journey takes me there someday.

April

I have been out for a while, I didn't feel like writing. I'm still not sure I have something to say, but sooner or later I have to go back to this blog. April is a new month, and I'll take advantage of that. I'm feeling fine now, totally recovered physically, although we have been told to wait two cycles before we try again. Mentally, I cried for three days like crazy, I allowed myself to have two self pity weeks, and I have been fine for a week. A friend took me to her place in Michigan, and it was a very healing experience. I lost my baby. It was already my baby, and he or she will never come back. Ese bebé no va a ser. I may have another baby in the future, but I have come to terms with the fact that I lost this one, and there is no one to blame, it's not my fault. My therapist is confident that I'm doing fine for good, although it scares me a little bit to be doing good. But, what do I gain if I sit down to feel sorry for myself? Nada. Nothing. I have a toddler to take care of, and a life to go back to. I may still be sad sometimes, but I have to be strong, because this was not the end of the journey. It was the end of a stage. I wish it never happened, I wish it wouldn't happen to anyone. But it does. And it's even kind of common. But no one talks about it, and that makes it worse. Because there is nothing to feel embarrassed about. There is nothing to hide. So I have decided to talk about it. Openly. It's healing. It helps.
Having news of other babies being born gives me hope. Last week my friend R became a father. Today I read about another new baby. I'm all in for happy news.