Four Lost Babies: F***ing Miscarriages

I wrote this for Brenan a few weeks ago so that he could understand where I'm at.  It was meant to be personal and private.  I choose to share it now so that others who have felt this pain might know that they are not alone, and for those who may not have experienced this but wish to be able to understand loved ones who have.

I don't really want more kids, not really. I'd love to birth at least one more baby, but grow it and raise it, I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that again. I already have 5 children, my family is plenty big, and yet so very lonesome and small.
I was tentatively ready for my second child. I felt his presence several days before his Daddy and I rejoiced over a positive pregnancy test. But despite our joy, I felt restrained, and told Brenan we should wait to tell people. The next day I tested again...5 times and only two came out positive. My stomach sank. Part of me wanted to convince myself it was just because it was early, but the rest of me knew: this child wasn't here to stay. I didn't cry when he left, but there was a dull ache in my heart that still hasn't gone away.
After his passing, I chased after children. I NEEDED another baby like I needed to breathe . I was ready in every way that I could be ready. Come October I got that feeling again, I felt a precious little baby girl merge with my soul. A few days later I took the leap and peed on a stick: it was positive and we were so happy. I'd already had one miscarriage and so surely I had no reason to fear with this one. Once again, we held off on the news, but a week later with pregnancy ailments setting in and excitement that made us feel like we would explode if we kept it in any longer, we decided to share the news with our immediate family. Three days later I had some light spotting in the morning. I told myself spotting is normal in pregnancy and went about my day like things were normal, but fear creeped in. The next day blood still spotted my panty liner, and it was getting heavier. I sobbed all through the night. I knew my little girl was leaving and there was nothing I could do to save her. For weeks and months after I would be overcome by debilitating sobs that took control of my entire being. Two lost children. Two nameless babies I would never hold in my arms, two lives that no one knew about, and no one mourned.
After this pain, I gave up hope of ever holding one of my own babies ever again. I knew two miscarriages didn't mean anything so final, but the deep carnal part of my soul spoke otherwise, and so when I felt the spirit of my 4th baby I braced myself for the inevitable. I started bleeding within hours of the positive test and told no one. "It's just a regular period" I tried to lie to myself.
But it didn't stop me from wanting to spew hate in to the universe. I cringed at any mention of trying for another kid. But what kind of good Mormon wife and mother would I be if I stopped at one living child? So I trudged on. Until last month when I became overwhelmed with the fear of another miscarriage. I felt certain that if I didn't actively prevent pregnancy that month I would become pregnant, and I WOULD lose yet another sweet child. I expressed my fears and my desires and they were brushed aside until finally I choose to ignore them myself.
Then that feeling came, I knew I was pregnant as once again I felt the presence of a precious spirit. I remember the exact moment we said hello as I drove to a girls night outing. I began smiling. I've always enjoyed feeling my children's presence.  It's so very real. But as I smiled and recognized what was, It was all I could do to keep the waves of fear and grief locked away. A little over a week later I was several days late with my very punctual menstrual cycle when heavy cramping and bleeding set in. It could only mean one thing. I couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer.
I HATED this!!! I screamed profanities in to my tear soaked pillow as my one living child sat by my side, looking on with sad and questioning eyes. I KNEW this was going to happen, and I resented my husband for not letting me prevent it, while simultaneously desperately wishing he was there to wrap me in his arms.
My friends came to my aid though, taking me out to dinner and staying up late with me in my living room talking about anything and everything but babies and fucking miscarriages. But when two am came with their hugs and goodbyes, I crawled in to bed and was greeted by debilitating grief once again.
Then morning came, and I felt like I had regained just enough strength to survive the day, and I was met with more crippling news. I went numb. Silent tears leaked from my eyes off and on for most the day, but I honestly didn't feel much of anything. My emotions had involuntarily been whisked away, but whenever they showed signs of sneaking back in I fought hard to banish them once again. I didn't want to feel.
Brenan came home and I wanted more than anything to just forget my sorrow and leave my mourning behind.  But whenever Brenan pulled me in to his arms I would feel myself sinking in to the comfort and then instantly recoil as waves of fury and grief rocketed through my body.
After several days of hiding from emotions, I allowed some of the sorrow and anger to stay with me, I let it slowly seep in and I cried silently through out the night and woke with red-rimmed eyes.
Both our parents were in town for Brenan's graduation and so we put on happy faces. I didn't visibly withdraw from family through out the day because it WAS a special weekend for everyone.  Brenan and Travis (his brother) were graduating.  I didn't want to spoil it despite the fact I was dying inside . I also didn't want to have to explain anything to anyone.

That week was awful, that week was unbearable!  I died that week and yet today I'm still breathing, today I still manage to find joy.  Grief and misery, and suffocating sorrow over my lost children still pounce on me fairly regularly, but mostly I find myself wrestling with other struggles. Like the overwhelming coldness I feel towards any and all babies. My intense relief at NOT having a newborn right now and having no signs of one any time soon. I honestly like my life a lot right now. I really like our earthly family of three, though I ache to hold the four that will never call me mommy in this lifetime. I'm a mother to five, yet the world will only recognize the one. I always wanted at least five, perhaps that's why more and more I feel like I'm done.
I have my five.  I don't want to experience the roller coaster of having and then losing yet another. I feel their presence so intensely that it would be impossible not to be overwhelmed with grief when their short lives are over. It's a blessing and a horrible burden. A burden that I will break under if I have to experience yet another miscarriage any time soon.
Words of comfort make me feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me. Don't fucking tell me God will send me a baby when I'm ready for it. You might as well say "you're not ready for a baby so God let yours die." Don't fucking tell me this will make me stronger. Don't fucking tell me everything will work out in the end. Don't fucking tell me there's a reason for everything and it's all part of God's plan. What I need is someone to wrap me in their arms and tell me life is shit and unfair and weep from the depths of their soul as I do the same.
I'm not ready to move on, and even when I am the pain will always be there. I need it to always be there because it's all I have left of my 4 lost babies.