transitioning

at this moment, i belong nowhere.

i'm not trying for a baby, i'm not pregnant. this path was chosen for me, by my body, by the embryos, by who the fuck knows what or why. i'm not someone who was just done on her own accord. i've never known this strange suspension of time and space, this space in-between, the space right after you just give up without getting what you were trying for. (well, really, i have- the transitioning from full term pregancy to babylost- at least this space isn't as violent.)

why am i angry inside because the last post seemed like i'm *fine*? why am i upset by the fact that i may have made it sound like i now appreciate what i have, lesson learned, hallelujah?

without that pregnancy, without the trying for it, what is there left to feel? i'll tell you what. there's now nothing to distract me from the full force and gall of my dead baby. there will be no live one to soften that blow. there will be no thoughts of the possibilities of how much softer the edges can be with another, alive baby. there's just me, and the fact that i tried and failed.

i've enlisted in a very strict medical weight loss program. i need to be someone else. i need to be who i was before i ever got pregnant with the living or dead. i need to create a definitive before and after. i need to do something reliable. i need a line in the sand; i need something i can SEE. I NEED SOMETHING REAL.

i need something visible that says, "THAT WAS THEN AND THIS IS NOW."

it could have been a growing belly, but it will be a shrinking one.

i got the final call yesterday from the ivf nurse, telling me yet again that my beta was negative. now i wait for the blood to flow, and when it comes, so will a big fat IUD.

i am transitioning out of my reproductive life. the decision is mine now, and i'll be fucking damned if i get ripped back ever again.