The number four. Among other items.

It's everywhere, have you noticed. I know that many of my baby lost friends also have a number four in their lives. Or I should say missing from their lives. And I'm talking about a four year old, as opposed to anywhere else the four might come up.

But I swear, it seems that everyone's kid is turning four. I'm at the point where I can even second guess. Example... At the supermarket and the checkout lady says to the little girl "and how old are you?". Straight to the tip of my tongue comes the words "she's four. Of course". Because sure enough she was. At Toby's small music group we've had several birthdays in the past two or three months. And all of them turned four. Bite.

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It's been a tough month or so. I can admit it here, and now that the month or so is passing. Post D & C recovery was physically easy. I got on with life. I didn't have time to stop and grieve, nor did I want to. I've had my share (can I say more than?), and I don't like the feeling of grieve or its crippling nature. But to be honest I also didn't feel I was denying myself. It was just in my step.

However, as the days and weeks tolled by I struggled more and more. I had all but decided it was time to visit the GP for the antidepressants I have avoided for four years. I was that low. I didn't feel that I was grieving the loss of this last little babe, but there were a lot of emotions surrounding it. The resurrection of grief for Ciaran, and for lost years with my children. With children that I will never get the choice to have, because of my advancing maternal age. And I was feeling very angry about that. About why could this one not stick around. The 'woe is me' moments asking why tease me? Why change things. Why undo all the hard work I had put in on myself to achieve the survival techniques that made it ok to live in this world of babies and easy pregnancies?

Oh there was plenty.

I was also well aware that my body, and my mind, was dealing with hormones. Pregnancy without the happy, as it released itself from my body. And the repairs my body was going through to recover from the nine weeks pregnant, and from the invasive ness of surgery.

Amongst all of that it dawned in me that there was possibly side effects from the pred.nis.one I was weaning off so I asked Dr Google, and it all became clearer.

Depression. Fatigue. And that's on top of the horrid weight gain that always happens when I'm on them (as they also increase appetite). So I was actually fighting a losing battle.... Feeling tired and depressed, I ate more sugary foods, which made me feel worse, both in myself and about my body image. My missing mojo was sending me around in circles.

Eventually I trekked to my amazing Chiro. He has been treating me with large doses of zinc, as well as a couple of Bach Flower Essences, and bless him within a week I was feeling so much more human.

I should probably mention too though they my mention of ADs earlier wasn't in anyway being negative about them or those who use them. They have just not been the right choice for me so far, and I have gotten by without them. Sometimes I do wonder why though. But in my case, the fact that I was do close to feeling I needed them was a failure to myself anyway... As if I had failed in my bid to do it alone. All very silly I know, but meh!

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And along with the number four, I'm also a bit.... Well, pissed, at the number of people either pregnant or trying. I'm also pissed at myself because I never wanted to feel like that again.

When I fell pregnant there were three others of my mother of Angel friends who were (are) due within a few weeks either side. Now, I certainly don't wish any of them issues, but I have to say, why did I have to be that statistic? The 'one in four'? They are all travelling along and exercising various levels of sensitivity. Meh, their prerogative.

I'm in two main online groups. Neither are loss groups, though one in one group there were several miscarriages before our current crop of babies. But my pregnancy seems to have set of an avalanche (in both groups) of people deciding its time to conceive. So on top of everything else I've had two months of reading their symptom hunting and AF disappointments. One of the groups is Toby's 'due in' group.s where there is already one subsequent baby 'on the ground'. Both groups paused a moment to say sorry for my mc, but in the next post forged ahead with their quest for the next pregnancy (one posted her positive HPT today). It's so obvious that their innocence doesn't even allow the possibility that they could be the next to suffer a loss to enter their heads. Although I don't wish it upon them, it has been fairly hurtful to be dismissed so quickly. Just because they don't understand just how much a nine week loss can still hurt.

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In random facts, Shane and I have been married five years this month. Of that five years, I have been pregnant for literally two full years. Four pregnancies in five years. Oh joys.

But 'at least' I can fall pregnant. Bite.

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I have several friends right now whose TTC journeys are drawing to a close, and my heart hurts for them. We will also be faced with it soon.

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But in other nicer news, Toby is getting such a big boy now. He's my greatest joy in a day, but there are also plenty of days where he drives me up the wall. And every minute I love how I am blessed. In the words of another blogger.... Stressed and blessed!