On the eve of this all...

I can't even begin to tell you how much the outpouring of support means to me. I never thought it would be so comforting to hear, "I'm sorry and I love you." My family, my friends, and my lovely e-friends. The posts, the emails, the private messages, the phone calls (even if I can't answer them), everything. You are all so amazing.

As far as my self assessment, I feel like I have a strong grasp on what's happened and I don't second guess the diagnosis and I'm cleared of any guilt that it's something I did. Sure, in the back of my head I have moments of, "What if it was my self doubt about if I'll be a good mother? What if it was bad karma?" but really? Those don't carry too much weight with me and so far it's easy to shrug it off.

It had to happen to someone. And actually, I don't really believe that there's someone up in the clouds who has to choose who it happens to. I don't really know if it's part of a greater plan. To me, it's just a statistic. I pulled the unlucky number. I can live with that. I don't want it to be that way, but I can live.

But tomorrow... Oooohhhh, tomorrow! I wish it did not have to come. This is not how I wanted my first labor to be. I was so excited for labor, as crazy as that sounds. It's supposed to be a miracle and a rite of passage that I held in the highest esteem... But not this way.

For those that are curious, they're going to give me a pill of cytotec every 4 hours to induce labor. When it finally gets uncomfortable, I'm opting for the epidural (in case I end up having to have a D&C afterwards that means they won't have to put me out and I don't want to be put out because of what it does to your body and recovery time). Pushing shouldn't be bad.

But what happens after that? Will it be gone already? Will it breathe? Can it possibly even choke out a cry? Will I suddenly be overwhelmed with the need to see it?

It's going to be a strange mental battle for me. I am terrified, petrified, and I don't know what other word to use to describe how afraid I am of dead things. It's almost debilitating. Dead animals, dead bodies, everything. Like if I'm in a funeral home, I can't walk near/look at a dead body. I just can't--it makes me physically ill.

So does it make me a bad mother if I can't see my baby or hold it? Is it a defense mechanism? Does it allow me to disassociate it all? Will my motherly instincts kick in and overcome this fear? Will I regret it?

I don't honestly know. All I can do is do what's best for me moment by moment and trust my best judgement.

I've read all of these loss forums over the past day. Most say to hold it, take pictures, etc. But I can't help but think that these forums and websites are representing a part of the population that needs these things for closure. I can't say that I can count myself in that number.

In my deepest darkest gut, I don't want to remember this as my baby who died. I want to remember it as my pregnancy that didn't work out. And I guess I'm going to have to keep following this gut for self preservation.

Anyway, the valium that I took a little while ago is kicking in. They wrote a script for me to get through this and I didn't need it during the day, but I'm gonna go ahead and enjoy it tonight to help me sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day.

All my love, MSC