Miscarriages suck.

Yesterday sucked. There's no other way to put it. It sucked.

My sweet husband. As I sobbed through dinner last night he said, "As soon as you finish eating, put on your shoes and go do whatever you want. Go to your Mom's. Call Kim. Just go." He knew how desperately I needed that. Bless him.

Seeing clots last night at midnightish also gave me some reassurance that this pregnancy was indeed real. But still I was so petrified that I was going to hear back from the doctor's office and them say, "Gina, you never were pregnant. Are you nuts? Can you not read a pregnancy test?" But, that's not what Debbie said when she called today. She did tell me the tests were negative, which in my case is actually a good thing. I asked if that meant I never was pregnant and read both of the HPTs incorrectly. She said, "No, you do have levels of the hormone in your system to indicate you were indeed pregnant but they are so low, we consider it a negative result. Probably what happened is the pregnancy never got off to a good start and was already ending when you tested, which is why your results were so faint." That seemed to give me some comfort. It also means no intervention unless things don't start resolving over the weekend.

I've been saying "I'm sad but not devastated." Yesterday I came to understand nothing could be further from the truth. I'm devastated. And as Elizabeth sat in my lap today, patted my lower abdomen and said, "Baby" - and I had to tell her that our baby was no longer there - the truth of just how broken-hearted I am was all too real.