Anger is one of the stages of grief and that's where I'm at this week. I was really sad when I first found out I was losing my baby. Now, I'm mad. I'm mad at the baby for not sticking around. I'm mad that I cried the night before I turned 30 because I am now an age by which many people are finished having kids and I don't even have the first one. I'm mad because stupid people have babies and I don't. I'm mad because Andrew and I have spent almost twenty thousand dollars trying to get pregnant and have only an early loss and monthly payments to show for it. I'm mad because people keep telling me stupid stuff like, "Stay positive and it'll happen," "so-and-so got pregnant as soon as they stopped trying," and "at least you get to try again." We may get to try again but I don't know many people who have to come up with five grand every time they want to TRY to get pregnant.
Maybe acceptance is a stage that's coming and maybe someday I'll stop wanting to punch everyone who tells me that relaxing will help me get pregnant. I'll believe it when I see it. Until then, I'm going to keep right on being mad that people can go through so much and have so little to show for it.