Yesterday I told you I would tell you what it was like to have to move back in with your parents. I feel like I don't really need to do that. Anyone can imagine how shitty it is without my having to rehash it for you. It sucks. Not to mention that I have an 8 year old sister I'm living with too. Don't get me wrong, she's absolutely fantastic at keeping Jo occupied most of the time. MOST of the time. Which means sometimes they don't get a long. Those times suck. But, again, I don't feel like reliving those moments. This is supposed to be a refuge, isn't it?
Instead, I think I'll talk about something slightly more depressing. What's more depressing than moving back in with your parents you ask? Finding out that the baby you've been so excited about isn't there. Yup. Yesterday the Dr. couldn't find any baby on the ultrasound. He couldn't a few weeks ago either but had said it may have just been too early. After that I think I knew, in my heart, that it wasn't too early. He wasn't going to find one next time either. He didn't. I think the few weeks between ultrasounds was enough precessing/grieving time because it didn't hurt as badly this time around as it did last time (when he first told me I may have miscarried.) So my time is now occupied with waiting for something to happen. The plan is to let it pass naturally so it's just a waiting game now. I think that's going to be the hard part.
Now that I've successfully depressed everyone reading this, my computer decided it's time to die. I'll see y'all next time.
-Shelby
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