Today was a day meant to kick me in the teeth.
It’s CD2. I spent most of yesterday incredibly drugged due to the awful cramps. My normal 1/2 a Tylenol with codeine? Not cutting it. The I woke up this morning having overflowed my Diva Cup and bled all over my pajamas. Awesome. Then this afternoon I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. It was some guy claiming I had requested info about cord blood banking. Yeah, no. 1) I would never request that info,I’m a big fan of delayed cord clamping. And 2) my baby died. Though maybe if they had called 3 months ago I would have considered it for the one and hopefully only time. Because if Noah didn’t need, it maybe it could have helped someone. Then the final kick of huge crappy day? After about 3 weeks of not having to explain again to Owen that Noah died, he patted my stomach and said “baby.”
Cue big fat tears.
It’s funny, I was actually a little sad when Owen had stopped doing that. It was like the beginning of him forgetting that I was pregnant. Of forgetting the only way he ever interacted with his brother. But on the other hand it has always been so hard when he would do that. Especially out in public.
So yeah, today was one of those says that sucked a lot. I’ve just been drifting and finding it hard to want to do, or concentrate on anything. It’s was a dark cloud day, and the world decided to pile on more. I know there is more to come. Formula coupons, and diaper ads. I should have been 32 weeks tomorrow. I should be annoyed by all the bombardment because I’m not a parent who would use the formula, disposable diapers or cord blood banking. Not dreading them because my baby will never even have the chance to use them.
32 weeks. I started having contractions with Owen at 33w1d and he was born at 33w5d. If Noah was healthy, he could have been here in under 2 weeks. It’s just not fair.