Ok here's my layout for Digi Dare #138, it isn't pretty, nor my best work, but after two miscarriages it's full of pure emotion and I thought that was more important. Join us and win at
http://www.digidares.com
Credits: Don't Go Baby Papers and Twirl Around Doodles from Lauren Grier at SSD, Wings from Joanne Brisebois at OScraps. Photo from Internet.
Journaling Adapted from Jason For The Love of God and reads:
There is no guide to dealing with this Club. No initiation. You are simply, miserably, thrust into it.
She's had a miscarriage. She's joined the millions of other women in this world who are suddenly, painfully, not pregnant anymore.
"It was just my turn."
Her turn. To lose. To be lost.
It's so not fair. It's so blindingly not fair that it makes her ill.
Because why does it have to be her turn? Why, when she is good and kind and loving and really wants to have a baby? Why is her turn to feel that her body has failed her? Why does it have to be her husband's turn to watch his wife cry? When they did everything they were supposed to do. When she dutifully stopped drinking her morning coffee and took all the disgusting vitamins she was supposed to take. When every day she took walks and kept herself in just the right shape. When she stopped having wine at dinner, months before, just to prepare herself.
She has to lose.
Instead of joining the happy baby club, in which she gets to discuss her vivid dreams and how much weight she gets to gain and her weird pickle and Wendy's Frosty cravings, she instead joins the miserable little club that no one wants to talk about. The one where she wonders what the hell is wrong with her. And why did this happen. And will I ever be normal. And why God hates her.
Even the words are stupid and angry. Miscarriage. She didn't drop the baby. She didn't misplace it somewhere. It's right where it always was. Inside her heart, which is now broken because life is so damn unfair.
She's lost her baby.
But it's not lost. It will never be.
There are no words of comfort. Everything said to someone who has lost her baby is inadequate.
She, for her part, is optimistic. Positive. It's a blip in the road, and she'll have a healthy baby soon. She believes that, strongly. It's happened for so many of her friends. So, so many. It's miserable and terrible and horrible but she’ll get through it. She plods on. She gets another test a few months later and it's positive. A beautiful little plus sign. She gets another and another and they all have beautiful little plus signs. She is cautious and optimistic and maybe a bit scared for a few months and then she has a beautiful, rounded belly with a beautiful little baby inside.
She knows it happens. It happens for most. she knows this.
It all works out. She doesn't drop the baby this time.
Still. She is forever part of the Club. She wears it like a scar on her heart.
