Hello

I live in New England. Welcome to the season where I suffer from road rage due to tourists parking and doing whatever they feel they need to get the picture of the fall leaves. I love the way the trees look at the peak of season, with the colors so bright and the leaves so plentiful. And then they fall. And then they fall. The change of the season seems to be more symbolic for some than others. I watch the leaves hit the ground, the trees begin to look lonely, and the cold, the cold air is coming. The irony in the change of the season is symbolic to how a person feels when depression kicks in ( at least to me). The cold does me in. The longer hours of darkness. The inability to just get up walk out the front door and go somewhere. I'm going to pretend at least a few of you read these things regularly ( like you know when I post something) and say you will know I had a baby this summer. The chances of me having post partum depression was pretty high since I had it with Squeaker.

Yesterday was Pregnancy and Infant loss day. For those that follow my pathetic little attempt to be a mommy blogger you will understand why this day is important to me. For those that don't here is the backstory. On Halloween of last year was my ultrasound to hear the heartbeat of Mini Thor. Only it didn't go so well. They couldn't find his heartbeat. They told me I was carrying an empty sac, there was nothing there. In simple terms I had miscarried. We talked about how I was far enough along and I might not be able to pass the sac on my own and how I would have to have an in office procedure to remove it. They talked about all these things. My world ended. We took the older boys trick or treating. My mom came and took them after school the next day. I fell apart hard. One week later we went back, me and Hatter. I had him wait in the waiting room, it was painful enough emotionally I didn't him there for this part, I didn't need to torture him. It was bad enough.