Could I have a comment card?

So, I often find myself, out of nowhere, just bursting into tears.  It'll take one flash of memory, or to see something or think of someone, and that strange, horrible sound comes and I realize I'm making it.  During these times, I'm also usually saying "It's not fair."  Well, it's not, but who am I actually complaining to?  I"m thinking there's no comment card that I could fill out talking about my problems with life at this current time.

I spend my days reading blogs of people who have stories like mine, or kind of like mine. They are heartbreaking, horrible stories.  I read them with dry eyes.  I am numb.  Before, if I read something like this, I would have cried for hours (I mean, really, I am a crier, let's admit that!).  But now, I read them and just think, Oh.  That sucks for them.  Just like it sucks for me.  

I don't want to be a member of this club.  It's one where they force membership on you.

I also have found a listserve for people who had PPROM, which is when your membrane (water) breaks early.  Some of the people have just lost babies like me, some of them are currently PAP (pregnant after prom-you have to admit that makes you chuckle), some of them are struggling/scared/don't know if they want to get pregnant, and some of them have had more that one PPROM.  I check my email very often.  Every time I see one from the list, I get super excited.  I send the list 3 emails a day.  I tell them things that I am afraid to say out loud.  I tell them how terrible I feel about thinking some of the things I do.  I tell them that I'm sick of explaining, "My babies died."  Complete strangers, some from halfway across the world.  They , however, share something with me that bonds us.  I know they completely understand when I say things, and most likely have had the same exact experience.

I know most people in real life, unless they've read this blog, don't really get what happened to me.  I think it would be really hard to imagine birthing, seeing, holding, hugging, singing to, reading to, a tiny, tiny baby and then watching it die.  Twice.  I don't blame them.  But I know they don't get just how awful it is. How I am in this Hell that doesn't seem to have a way out.  That I feel so awful about myself-my horrible stretchmarks, the huge black rings below my eyes, my split ends and dry skin, the fact that I can't fit in any of my stupid clothes but wearing maternity clothes feel so fake.  I put them all away in a bin today, actually.  I see them and it's one more thing I don't have anymore.  I was so frickin excited to buy those damn maternity clothes.  As a person who always struggles with weight, I didn't have to "suck it in" anymore.  I felt beautiful for the first time in my entire life (outside-wise).  I would walk around, people would catch my eye and smile at me.  That look that said, you are about to experience something amazing.  I walked with my head high and my stomach out and hard and I loved every second of it.  After my water broke, when we were driving to the hospital, I reached down and felt my stomach.  It had already deflated, it felt soft on half.  This was when I knew that things were NOT going to be ok.

And they're so, so not.