This is a time for reflecting upon all the wonderful blessings we have in our lives.
Except, I am bitter.
You see, I am a big believer in denial. I think that my life runs more smoothly when I just sort of shove the unpleasant things away, and I usually wind up forgetting about them. Because if I think about them a lot, they bog me down, and my function starts decreasing, and for what? So that I can wallow in things? So not for me.
But, two days ago, I unwittingly clicked onto this story in the LA Times.
And when I saw the picture of that beautiful, precious dead infant, I totally lost it. I cannot get over how beautiful he is, and how the loss of him must have felt to his parents.
In fact, I am losing it now.
At this point, I was supposed to be seven months pregnant.
I was supposed to be starting my last trimester.
And obviously, I'm not.
I don't know if I will ever even get pregnant again, such is the nature of my disorder. I was probably blessed, in a way, to get pregnant at all.
I just need to find the blessing in that, somehow.
But it is really, really hard.