Continuing...

It's been two weeks since our family lost our baby, Andrew, and two weeks since I've shut off the world. I stopped tweeting, turned off my phone to ignore everyone who called or texted. I let my computer die off. I wouldn't let my love tell me that so and so called to check up on me. I became a hermit.
I didn't want to read any texts about how sorry everyone was because it was just a constant reminder. I didn't want to read any notifications from my phone that I might have received on Facebook, Twitter, personal email, etc. But today I forced myself to get up. I got dressed and painstakingly made my trip the obstetrician for my check-up from that terrifying day. After my visit I suddenly felt better, as though a weight was lifted from my heart. He told me I was (physically) fine and that we could even start trying to conceive again if it was something that we had discussed in private. Let me tell you, I have thought about it. I thought about having to go through another high risk pregnancy, losing another baby and that's just something I know I won't be able to handle. My doctor tried to console me and gave me encouraging words that this probably won't happen again.
Right now though, everyday I'm reminded that I'm not pregnant. From television commercials, baby magazines the doctors office signed me up for to the new movie previews of What to Expect when Expecting. Even my body is insistent upon reminding me. The sharp pains left behind from the D&C, the throbbing headaches, tension neck aches and backaches from the epidural, prenatal vitamins which I must continue taking… it's terrible. I'm not sure how women can move on from this being that this has been the most traumatic experience I've had to face; a nightmare.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm grieving. I continue to think about holding my stillborn baby in my hands. His tiny toes, thin fingers, little belly, my little angel. To describe it would be an exercise in futility. It is the sort of suffering that cannot be done justice with words. I can say only this - that [it] is an anguish from which one never recovers. A walking death. (Seth Grahame-Smith) Writing, even just a tad about this is helping as tears stream over my face. But it's therapeutic. I've tried looking into local mommy therapy groups but having to hear over and over about everyones experience is too much for me. Pen and paper have been my way out of my head and I'm feeling better. I laughed today. A lot. Thanks to my sister and an Ellen skit.
I even ate today! in public no less, with my mom and sister. I've lost quite a few pounds through these past fifteen days which I was quickly reprimanded for. Again, I'm feeling better and now I'm sharing my little story with anyone who wants to listen, read, give advice, or is just curious.
Mr. Winey has been the most caring, supportive, and completely understanding man for me through all of this. I thought this episode would distance us. Instead it has brought us together as we continue to cope and has given us someone to rely on and that's more than what I can ask for at the moment.
I know I'll simply never "get over it" and it'll be something that has made me stronger as I learn to continue to manage these grim feelings. But for now, I do want to thank everyone who has sent us their condolences, flowers, phone calls, texts, comments, tweets, DM's, emails, hugs, smiles, encouraging words, and their friendship and knowing that you're all there for us. Reading all of that today has lifted my spirits and I'm so appreciative to have great friends - physical and online friends. Thank you.