Last night after I posted about Zoe I sat on the couch with her. I watched TV, she napped. After a little while I nudged her over then pulled her on top of me. She’s not a tiny dog – she’s 30lbs – but she’s not huge either. So I layed on the couch with her bum on my lap and her head on my chest and just held her for half an hour while I watched TV. (She wasn’t too thrilled at first, but fell asleep anyways.)

It was so so calming to cradle her like that, to stroke her silky fur and just relax in my love for another creature. It made me think that maybe when I do get to hold my next child it will heal a part of me, the aching emptiness. Not permanently, not completely… but for a moment. My love for Zoe reminds me that no matter how much I love my Devin, no matter how much my heart aches for missing him, there is always more love available.

::

I am not feeling so good this morning. So much for wearing my pre-pregnancy jeans – I’m way bloated this morning. It actually hurts.

The bloating is not helping my self-image at all, either. I’m having a rough day of it: I got undressed to get in the shower and caught a look of my boobs in the mirror and nearly burst into tears. The big bloated pregnant-looking belly is making it that much worse. Did I mention my oily face that is breaking out all over the place, despite using Proactiv twice a day? I am tired of not liking what I see in the mirror. I’m sad that I can’t wear 99% of my old wardrobe because everything makes me look pregnant, which just sparks off a whole wave of sadness.

Maybe I’d have felt like this even had Devin lived. Maybe it would have frustrated me just as much. But somehow I don’t think so. If I had a baby to take care of, if I had a baby to make up for the changes, it would feel like a fair trade. I’d be sad, but also proud of my battlescars. But now? Now it’s all just an ugly reminder of what I don’t have. I lost my body and my baby. I’m not seeing many positives there.

Just frustrated. I’m going to work so I don’t have to think about it.