I'm spotting. Damn.it.
I tried so hard not to get hopeful. I had this ritual the last few days. Every time I went to the bathroom I would check for blood. When I didn't see any I would get this stupid grin and the thought, this might be it, would sneak into my head. I would give myself a stern lecture that it isn't very likely and then get on with my day.
I guess the stern talk didn't help. I am crushed. This was my last hope for hope before Aiden's birthday. I guess the fat lady is singing and that prescription for birth control will get filled after all.
I want to get drunk, but I won't, because there is still a very slim chance I'm pregnant. I bled with Aiden and was still pregnant. I was probably bleeding for a reason, but that doesn't keep me from stupidly hoping.
I hate this. I really, really hate this. I keep giving up and changing my mind. I want to leave that back door open for a miracle but it is killing me. I don't know if I can keep doing this.
My little girl just came over.
"Mommy, what's wrong?"
"I'm sad today, honey"
"I miss baby Aiden"
"I miss him too. He's not ever coming back. I want baby Aiden, Mommy."
"I know, me too."
She crawled in my lap and cried with me. I wish that made me feel better when she is being so sweet. Instead it just hurts more because I know what I'm missing. There should be more presents under the tree and a seven month old to entertain.
I have a feeling the next 3 weeks will just be hell, even though I'm running to the mountains.
Baby Aiden, if you can hear me, please send us some snow. We could use some joy right now.