My husband and I went to a miscarriage and infant loss support group last night, which was nice. Pretty much every time I tried to talk I became a blubbering sobbing mess. Which, considering I just miscarried last Monday, is probably pretty normal. But it was nice, and the woman that lead the group gave us a hand-painted memory box to put the ultrasound pictures and other things in (cards we got, the certificate of life from the hospital, things like that). It seemed to really help my 8 year old, she hadn't said much about the baby dying. But the box seems to fascinate her, she keeps looking at it (I told her she could look through it whenever she wanted) and asked if she could put something for him in it. She was also concerned that we don't really have anything to acknowledge the baby we lost last May, so I was able to find of the sympathy cards I was sent to put it (I know I have a couple more, but I put them somewhere "safe" and now I can't remember where that was!)
I mentioned a few weeks ago that when I had the ectopic pregnancy, I had a friend who had an abortion scheduled for the day that I had my surgery and she had canceled it. I posted something on facebook about being upset over losing Dominic, and she said that I saved her baby's life and she hoped that brought some comfort. Wow! Actually, it does, especially since we would have been due around the same time. It's humbling to think that something as simple as reaching out through an email saved a baby's life. And I almost didn't send that email, but I felt very strongly that I needed to witness for life and reach out to her. Thank God I did!
Someone I know due a few weeks before I was went for her 20 week u/s today. I had a mini-break down, that should be me soon, but it's not. I'm glad she's expecting a healthy daughter, but it's hard to watch pregnant women around me go on while I'm left behind. The emptiness is actually physically painful, I'm not surprised at all that some women who miscarry wind up with addictions. (Not that I'm planning on becoming a heroin addict, but I get the need to fill the void and numb the pain).