spiteful

I just had an interesting conversation with a woman I don't know on a facebook post that was not my own. Isn't funny when we are locked into a conversation with someone who is dead set on being right or having the last word. I often fall into the trap of "I walked on the moon." Let me explain. There was a comedy skit on a video we borrowed from friends that went as followed:
Dinner table at a restaurant, there is a group of acquaintances. Some know each other better than others. There is one slightly obnoxious individual who for whatever reason dominates the conversation. He talks about himself and if anyone brings up anything he "tops them" with his own more interesting or crazy experience. At this table unbeknownst to the "topper" is Neil Armstrong. As the table begins to tire of the incessant blabber of the guy who cannot quit talking about himself Neil says in a quiet voice, " I walked on the moon."
That shut the "topper" up.
Sometimes people blabber about their trials or crappy experiences and bear testimony about how "we are not tried beyond our ability." My inward response is usually. You have no idea what you are talking about. Your trial was piddly and I would be able to "top it." I would not be so ignorant to say that my trial is the worst thing that a person can experience but I would certainly say there are days where I am surprised I am still breathing.
There are somethings that will never go away. Some things that will never get better. I am in the middle of trying to figure out how to function everyday without losing my mind to grief.
For example, I wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares of the experience I went through. The nurse's face sits in my memory as she desperately searches for a heartbeat. The look on my Papa's face as he runs into the assessment room and hears the OB say "I am sorry your baby has passed away." Having to go through labor knowing that there will not be any reward for all the pain. Asking my husband if I am going to die too because I am bleeding internally and seeing the look on his face. Telling my father as he is driving to pick up my daughter that  'the baby is dead." 
Leaving my perfect baby at the hospital wrapped up in a plain white blanket because his pretty one is not allowed in the morgue. Watching him being lowered into the earth and thinking "I worked 9 months for that little person and now I don't even get to know him." Watching other women have babies that live and feeling crippling jealousy and resentment towards them and their baby for living.
Now I am scared to death of living through those experiences again. How do you find joy in pregnancy when you know the worst that can happen. How do you attach to a new baby who will not be your lost baby? How do you allow yourself to celebrate someone new without feeling crushing guilt that your other baby is dead. How do you have hope for a future that will never be what you had planned?
I walked on the moon
I never want to go back