that I dont have at least a handful of flashbacks, memories or moments of gratefulness for where I am right now.

Especially this past month.  Last May was by far one of the hardest months I have EVER lived through.  I didn’t realize how much so until this month when I would catch myself trying to recall where I was last year on this date (as most infertites do) and then almost cry because the memories are so dark and painful to even linger in now.

I was so broken, so hopeless, so sure that every pregnancy I was going to have for the rest of my life was going to end before it got a take home baby, how isolated I was from the life I used to have before the loses and how incredibly damaged the relationship with my husband was because of all of this…that month was the grand pu ba of shit shows out of all my shit shows.  And every time I look back on it now, the more grateful I am to be this far today.

Post after post of heart wrenching or raging content was published last May.  There were even posts I didn’t publish because they were even too dark for me back then-reading them now is gut wrenching.  As I am reading them I just can’t believe anyone can suffer like that-then I realize its me that I’m reading about, and want to vomit.

While I am so friggin grateful that I was finally given a furlough from the trying to get knocked up and stay knocked up prison of hell, it forced me to leave behind my two good friends Jaq and Jordana, who both have been kicked to shit *repeatedly* over the past few months and it crushes me as if it were my own.  Because their struggles are so similar, their pain is felt as sharp as my own pain.  While I have never met either of them in person (yet) I have a visceral response when I learn of their news-both the good, and unfortunately always the bad news that isn’t far behind.  I am so grateful to not be locked in that prison, but also so guilty because I couldn’t drag them out of there with me.

You see, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss unfortunately *isn’t* like the Marines-the suffering wounded, barely able to breathe never mind hold their head up women are left behind all the time.  Every minute of every day, while those of us on furlough run for our lives, and the lives of our little passenger, trying insanely hard not to look back out of fear of what we are going to see or even worse because we fear we’ve tempted the fates and now our furlough will be rescinded and our little passenger forfeited.

It is because of this that I am filled with gratefulness and a deep sense of appreciation.  It comes out all the time.  As I writhe in pain from a muscle spasm in my back that prevents me from drawing air into my lungs I am so effing grateful that I’m pregnant and that’s what’s causing it that I cry tears of disbelief.  As I shuffle around my house in the middle of the night instead of being able to peacefully sleep due to the sneaky electric squirming worms that take up residence in my legs and hips every night I collapse into bed, I won’t lie, I cry tears of frustration (and sometimes pain because I stub my effing toes) but behind the tears is always the immediate thought that Jac and Jo are some where lying in their beds beaten and heart broken, fighting that shit ass fight-and my heart (along with my prayers, wishes, hoping, burning things for them and of course begging) goes out to them while  I am truly grateful and absolutely appreciate where I am now.  Each and every second.  Because it is exactly where I want to be and hope that very soon, they will be too.