Stilllll here

Unbelievably had another normal ultrasound yesterday morning, all measuring on track. Heart beating away, 4 tiny limbs, and even a little wiggle, which I had never seen before. I had one normal ultrasound with pregnancy #1, but I was alone that day (too clueless to even think that my husband should be with me), and it's been bad news ever since. I remember looking at my husband and thinking, no matter what happens from here at least he got to experience this once.
  
We survived April, after being such a disastrous month last year. The 28th marked the anniversary of my last D&C and the passing of my uncle, and was a hard day to get through without the feeling of imminent doom. I'm actually pretty good at zoning out on dates now, but it was the day before the damn royal wedding so impossible to ignore with all the anniversary coverage.
  
We are also officially past the milestones of being "normal" in any previous pregnancy. This should be reassuring, but I just cannot shake the fear. I know too well how fragile this time is, we're still weeks away from being out of the first trimester. I'm constantly scaring the shit out of myself that I'm spotting again (curse you f***ing pink prom.etrium!!!), that I'm having cramps (not helped by insane constipation issues), or that I've made a huge mistake (bumped abdomen, lifted something too heavy, got stressed for a nano-second, climbed the stairs too fast, and on and on and on). Or that the true reason for all of our losses is still undiscovered, lurking and waiting to destroy our hopes once again. I feel myself always on edge, bracing for what will become The Next Terrible Memory, the moment when I know it's over, the one where I will remember every detail and play it over and over in my head forever. I know this, because I already have a collection of these, 6 specific to miscarriages, countless others along the way of this shitshow known as our "fertility journey."
  
I'm sick of feeling the judgment from my medical care providers. Miss Gotta Believe ultrasound tech chided me that I was only allowed one tear this week and no tears the following week, and ran to show me her book The Shack that I need to read. Dr. B. chided me that after next week I need to chill out and embrace the pregnancy. Those 2 hours spent at the hospital the past Monday mornings are the absolute most stressful time of the whole damn week -- I find out if the being inside me is alive or dead and where we stand on the Rest of Our Life, I've been to hell and back and back again these past few years, and suddenly I'm supposed to be all Polly Sunshine? (Okay, I just heard that, I guess I am supposed to be mrs. brightside but f*off and let me rant already...)
  
I tried to force myself today a few moments of believing, of imagining a growing belly, of nuzzling a sweet little head in my neck. And I was instantly overwhelmed with emotion, tears sprung immediately. It makes me want to throw up just writing it here and thinking of it again. Because I've had to close the door on those dreams, bury them deep, lock them away good, just to survive from day to day, and not ache from the giant gaping wound of what I long for and do not have, and fear greatly never will.
  
These days are long days, but I am grateful for each one that passes. Thank you for allowing me this safe space to get this all off my chest and express myself honestly, that somehow putting this all here, helps get it out of me. One day at a time, deep breaths, zen zen zen.