Cue: The Panic

I have no real reason to suspect that my super-early pregnancy has gone belly-up, other than, of course, the fact that all three of my previous pregnancies went belly-up, so why would this one be any different?

I wake up every morning and have to remind myself that This Pregnancy Is Not Doomed.  It's harder than it looks, though, friends.  If I have cramping (and I've had some pretty wicked cramping), then obviously it's because I am about to miscarry.  If the cramping eases up (as it has these last few days), then obviously my baby has died.  I feel slightly nauseous most of the day -- but I had morning sickness the day of my ultrasound that revealed I had been toting around a dead fetus for upwards of two weeks already.  I am dead tired and my boobs feel like bricks, but both of those are side effects of the ridiculous amount of progesterone coursing through my body.  The mindfuckery is endless, I tell you.  Endless and monotonous and dark.  

In short, I want to believe that This Time It Will Work.  I want to be happy and positive and start thinking about names and nursery colors and how this time next year I'll be joyously posting pictures all over FB of my adorable newborn. Unfortunately, my experience thus far has been fleeting joy over positive pee sticks / rising betas followed by bleeding/crappy ultrasounds.  And, much like I find it nearly impossible to believe that people actually make babies by having sex (it sounds odd, doesn't it? they swear its true), I am also finding it nearly impossible to believe that we are actually going to get a baby out of this.

I want rainbows and unicorns and birds singing about the miracle of life.  Instead I get hourly TP checks and symptom over-analysis and way, way, too much Dr. Google.

I know practically everything there is to know about getting pregnant.  I just wish I knew how to stay that way.