It’s almost over. I started cramping and bleeding heavily late last night and I think the worst of it has come and gone. I went to my appointment this morning and my doctor saw only a little bit of tissue left inside me, gave me pills to take to help me pass that. I cried, but only when I had to talk about Anja. I was resigned about this pregnancy. And bitter. I asked if there was any more testing that could be done to determine what is happening with my body. No. There is none. I was angry, then, and said, ‘I am having a very hard time now believing that there is not something wrong with me.’ My doctor basically admitted that there probably is something wrong with me, but not something medicine knows anything about at this time. What do I do with that?

I spent the day running about, getting blood drawn, filling prescriptions, crying behind my sunglasses. Six months. Six months ago at exactly this time I called my doctor and said, ‘She isn’t moving. I’ve tried everything. Cold juice and chocolate and lying on my side. She hasn’t moved at all since morning.’ (Why did I wait so long? Why did I wait so long? Oh, god, why did I wait so fucking long to call?)

I wanted to spend some time with her today but it wasn’t possible. I wanted to sit somewhere with just my thoughts of her. I wanted to get a pedicure and have my nails done the brightest, gaudiest pink they had. But there was no time. There was only rushing here and there, cramping and bleeding and trying to reassure my little E that her mommy is okay, that everything is fine.

Good night sweet Anja wherever you are. Somehow with this latest loss, the loss of you seems suddenly more shocking. Today I lost a pregnancy. Six months ago I lost my little girl. I will love you and miss you forever, and I think I am only just now beginning to know what that means.

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