Pregnant After Miscarriage?

Fifteen (15!) pregnancy tests tell me no. But they're cheapo ones and don't have perfect reviews on Amazon.com. Could all those negatives be wrong? My calendar and my body hint that the answer is "Yes."

But I am afraid to buy another test. If I'm not pregnant, something is wrong. If I am pregnant....I'm afraid.

I lost two babies in 2009. Since then I have been hoping for pregnancy and simultaneously fearing it. Miscarriage hurts. It crushes. Devastates. It's frightening. It induces guilt and insecurity. It wounds in places others don't understand.

So I wait. I think up reasons not to test. I lie in bed at night and argue with myself.

"I'm nauseated. My hips hurt, my knees hurt, my carpal tunnel is back."

"But you have a cold, and that makes you nauseated sometimes. And you're in the process of moving, carrying things up and down multiple flights of stairs. Of course everything hurts."

"I'm late."

"The pregnancy tests are negative."

"Two weeks late."

"As if this body was dependable. You're late. You just have issues."

"I should get a better quality test."

"Soon as you do, you know Aunt Flo will stop in for a visit."

Yes, I'm driving myself crazy. It's hard not to. After miscarriage, there is no easy-breezy happy-all-the-time possibility. There is month after month of negative pregnancy tests, and the pain of not having a much wanted baby. Or there is a Big Fat Positive and after it the anxiety and fear.

I don't know if pregnancy will ever feel safe to me again. Both my miscarriages happened just after I'd finished the first trimester. It was supposed to be "safe" to announce the pregnancy by then, anything that could go wrong would have by then, right? After the misery of having to tell everyone who had just been rejoicing with me that no, there would be no baby this time, how will I find the right time to announce another pregnancy? Heck, I can't even admit the possibility to myself right now, because of the fear.

To those who haven't experienced it, it might seem odd that the loss of tiny, barely-there lives 2 years ago could have such an impact on me. But that is one of the commonalities among women who have miscarried. We remember, and we hurt, long after the fact.

So I remember, and I fear. I want another baby, desperately. But the dreams of a warm, soft bundle of joy are marred by the fears of getting there. What if...I miscarry again? What if...I never get pregnant again? What if...something goes wrong after we start thinking we're "safe"?

I know I need to find out soon, for my own health. I will.

Maybe tomorrow.