I already feel like a failure since it seems like something that should be natural and easy to obtain is impossible for me. I mean what is the point of all this crap that I, as a woman, must go through if I'm not going to be able to carry a child to full term? And why for goodness sakes, did I worry about birth control for those first years of my marriage?! Not like it would have mattered, since my body is just a useless piece of crap.
The tone of this may sound angry. You wouldn't be too far off the mark. I am angry. I cover it well. You would never know it by looking at me or talking to me. You ask how I'm doing, I'm going to say fine, good, whatever is the proper response. But walk one day in my shoes, holding a brand new baby and fighting back the tears knowing that it should have been yours in your arms. Watching your husband hold that baby and just the delight in his eyes and on his face, and knowing that you will have to fight with every ounce of your being to provide that for him and rely on the medical profession to make it possible for you. Me? Rely on anyone other than myself and my God? Never say so.
Maybe that's my struggle. Realizing that I can't do this, that my imperfect body will never allow it. Statistics may say that I do not have that much greater of a risk of miscarrying a third time as I did a second time. I'd rather not try to prove those statistics right or wrong. I can't take a third loss.