This was supposed to be a different post.

My last post was full of hope.  It was about the new year.  It was full of happy thoughts. I wrote this:

I plan on continuing to eat healthy, exercise regularly, spend wisely, decrease debt, increase savings and do things that make me happy and build my happy family.  
I want to take more pictures, learn to use my new photo editing software, continue reading great books and clean that basement.
I want my walls to have framed photos on them-not just in my computer. 

Above all-I want 2011 to be a wonderfully happy and memorable year.

In less than a week my happy little world collapsed.  The cause of my happiness was simple.  You see, after years of infertility-of no hope of getting pregnant-somehow, someway-I was.

I was 11 weeks pregnant when I wrote my new years post.  We had seen the baby. We had seen the heartbeating.  I was feeling some symptoms and getting a little belly.  We were happy and excited and in awe of our miracle.  

I was waiting for my 12 week appointment and ultrasound so I could share the joy bursting in my heart.  I had multiple posts already written and ready.  The joy. The thrill of tearing down of walls built by years of childlessness NOT by choice.

It wasn't meant to be.  Just 2 days before my week 12 appointment, I had a miscarriage. 

My world is raw and painful now.  My hope and happiness gone.