Mommy Guilt

A month or so back when E and I decided to see a counselor together we kind of stopped talking about progressing with our infertility journey. I wouldn't say we avoided the topic but we both knew that any discussion would lead to someone's feelings get hurt so we just didn't try. In a way we were both waiting for the counseling so that we could let loose and say what we needed to say. However, since we were not talking about infertility, we argued over just about everything else. We even had an argument over whether we would pay for Dani's wedding if and when she ever got married. It was so out of character to see him take his position of 'we're not paying for a wedding, she can do that herself' camp and I wanted to at least give her a nice party. I was completely blown away by how passionate he was in his position. Rarely in our relationship has he ever stuck to his side so strongly without listening to another alternative.

So, currently, things are better. I make jokes about controlling him and he makes jokes about me having to stick to my routines. It's good times. However with all of our joking and getting along, I am feeling a little guilty. Guilty because I'm starting to feel better. At this point I don't think it is the Z0l0ft as it is only succeeding in making me tired and feel out of my body (this didn't happen the last time). It's hard to grieve but have good days at the same time. I don't think I am only grieving the loss of our baby. I think I am grieving for him, Lana, Michael, and the years of my life that I have waited 'one more month' to see if I would get pregnant.

It's almost as if there is no real way to mourn the loss of a miscarriage.... so when I start feeling better, or dare I say happy, I feel like I haven't really given credit to the life that he did have. When a family member dies, there is a funeral or a memorial. Some way for the family to grieve together and to start to move on. I feel guilty about moving on because he should still be with us. He should be kicking and giving me heartburn, and waking me up in the middle of the night to pee. And he's not. He's gone. And I can't help but think that it was my fault... that I got too sick in that last week from a cold. I ate too many cough drops. I coughed too much. I mowed my lawn. Which I know most likely had nothing to do with it, but I still think it.

So, guilty about being happy, that's got to be a new low.