This is why my husband is awesome.

Heads up before I start, this is a long post.  And it's pretty personal, full of TMI and somewhat depressing.  So if you're looking for glitter farts and rainbows today, you may want to just go ahead and jump on to the end, and skip my sad story. 

Now that that's out of the way, here we go.  As I'm sure you have guessed if you look at my favorite links, me and the husband have recently suffered a miscarriage.  Recently being November 2.  Here's the full story. 

I went off the pill in March of 2004.  I had put on 60 pounds in the 7 months I was on it.  So when my period didn't come after the usual month or so, I wasn't terribly stressed.  Excited even!  Maybe I was pregnant right off the bat!  After all, two of my sisters just had to look at their men to get pregnant, so surely it would be that easy for me, too, right?  Kept getting negative tests.  Two months went by, still nothing.  Three months.  We were poor, so I never went to the doc. 

We moved back to Alaska in July of 2004.  When we got up here, I finally got my period.  Yay!  But only once.  Saw a doc, and he put me on meds to bring on my period.  Then I had to keep going back to get the meds because I wouldn't start on my own.  Around 2006, I did a few rounds of Clomid since I obviously wasn't ovulating.  Nothing.

Finally in 2007, I changed doctors.  She kept telling me I was just too fat.  (I had gone from 190 in 2003 to 310 in 2007.)  Every time I saw her, she told me "if you just lose 20 or 30 pounds, your body will probably restart itself."  She ignored the fact that my periods have always, always been wonky, irregular, and horrifically painful.  I was just too fat.  I quit seeing doctors all together.  If she's just going to tell me I'm fat, I can look in the mirror and tell myself that for free.

So, if you're keeping track, it's now 2011.  I haven't had more than 3 non-medication-induced periods since 2004. 

This brings us to March 2011, that day I stepped on Doc's scale and it said 324.  Sure enough, 30 pounds later, my periods came back.  I hate that the hateful doctor was right, but I'm super glad that the baby factory started working again.  Yay!

In August 2011, we got serious about TTC.  (TTC = trying to conceive)  I was keeping track of timing, and symptoms, using ovulation predictor tests and such. 

On October 24, 2011, I took a pregnancy test, and saw those two beautiful lines.  I was pregnant!  After 7 and a half years, two doctors, and 60 pounds, I was pregnant! 

On October 31, I started spotting.  Friends and family assured me some spotting was normal.  Lots of women spot and still have happy, healthy take home babies. 

On November 1, the spotting got worse.  I went ahead and went to work, and the spotting was just off and on all day.  Friends and family were still optimistic, but I knew what was happening.  I was losing my baby.  I tried to call the doctor (different doc than the one who told me I was just fat), but they were already closed. 

November 2, I got a hold of the doc's office as soon as they opened.  The girl who answered the phone suggested I go ahead and go to the ER to get checked out.  There, blood tests confirmed my HCG was at 41.  I was supposed to be 6 weeks along.  I called my husband, and he came home from work, and we layed around the house all day.  We were both kind of shell shocked, and were trying to process it.  That night, the cramping started.  I'll spare you the gory details (and yes, it was pretty gory) and just say around 2:30, the worst part was over, physically.  I went to work the next day, but only lasted half a day.

Now, it's been almost a full month.  We're both doing ok.  Hubby's 'ok' being better than my 'ok' to be perfectly honest.  Some days are worse than others, but for the most part, we're ok. 

This brings us to last night, and why my husband is awesome.  (Enter glitter farts and rainbows.)

I got a 25% off total purchase at Coach coupon in the mail.  I LOVE Coach.  Love, love, love Coach.  So, I went to browse the online store, and found a bag I love.  I asked hubby if I could have it.  He said no, and listed a few logical, perfectly understandable reasons why it wasn't a good idea. 

It just made me mad.  As much as I hate to admit it, my whole existence still pretty much revolves around the fact that I lost my baby.  Every single thing I do, or place I go, reminds me.  Last time I wore that shirt, I was pregnant.  Last time I went to Target, I was pregnant.  Last time we ordered pizza from this place was the day I found out I lost the baby.  Everything.  I've had a rough month, dang it. I want a Coach bag.  I lost my baby, the one we tried for for over 7 years.  I deserve an expensive purse.  I vented this all to poor hubby, and he just kind of stared at me.  Then he says, "I bought you the ring." 

Now, let me tell you about my ring.  I've been ogling black diamond rings from Zales since my original wedding set got too big for my ring finger.  I'm in love with black diamonds.  They're sparkly and pretty and unique, and I love them.  I've been sending him oh-so-subtle hints for months upon months.  And he knew how hard of a time I was having, and how badly I wanted this ring, and he bought it.  He knows that gifts are my Love Language, and how gifts comfort me more than talking or hugs, or whatever.  (Call me shallow, but there it is.) 

So, to recap:  I'm still psycho and neurotic about the miscarriage, and hubby loves me and buys me things to make me feel better.  I love him, and I love how he gets me. :D