Every few weeks, Westley asks me for a little sister.
"Mommy, I would like a little sister." (He's starting to enunciate his Ls more often. It's heartrending. Just a few months ago, Westley would have "whiked" a "whittul" sister.)
"That would be great."
"Can we do that? Can we do that today?"
Then I clench my emotional muscles and explain that, well, it would be very nice if we could have a baby right away, but it takes a long time to grow a baby, and whether we have another one is a big decision. We don't have a lot of control over it. Whether there's another baby is bigger than Mommy and Daddy.
"But we can try," I tell him. "And we can all be very hopeful."
Except that I'm not feeling very hopeful. I've been hopeful in the past, but keeping it up requires lots of effort. My disobedient body parts (and other people's losses) keep interfering with the hoping.
Last year, hoping was a little easier. The weather was cold, but very beautiful; the world felt festive. It started snowing a few days before Thanksgiving. As soon as the lawn was covered, Rob, Westley, and I bundled up and went outside.
I had been thinking about babies and feeling very hopeful and my period was late. I don't remember whether I'd taken a pregnancy test already. If I had, it had come back negative. In any case, I was excited, having decided that on Friday, I would officially be late enough to see those parallel pink lines.
On Thanksgiving morning, I started bleeding. It was heavier than my normal (heavy) period bleeding, and I was in more pain than usual. I tried not to think about what that might mean, but I cried for what felt like an hour before getting up and weakly starting to put together a vegan feast.
A year ago, deciding to have another baby was, if not exactly an easy decision to make, a much simpler idea. This time last year, I was ready. Now, I'm not sure I'll ever be ready again.
Today, Westley expressed his desire for a sibling once again.
"I want a little sister," he said. And then: "Can you and Daddy try?"
"We'll see," I said.
We'll see.
Day 17: My family.
Day 27: Myself, one year ago.
4 comments:
Trying for a baby, or even contemplating it, is such a very fragile place to be in. It's like something gets in your head and whispers fears, while hope is trying so hard to keep its head above water.
Allison couldn't have said it better. Wishing the best for you and yours.
A beautiful and sad post. It definitely stirs up a lot of emotions for me. My husband and I have been trying for a baby for two years now. I had one very similar experience, where my period was nearly two weeks late, and I just KNEW I was pregnant. I finally got up the nerve to buy a pregnancy test. It was negative. But of course, that couldn't be right, my period is never late. I must have bought a faulty test. I would buy a new one tomorrow. The next day at work I started bleeding. I went home and cried for two days, partly because it was so painful and mostly because I was so heartbroken. That was a year and a half ago now, and still the closest I've come to a baby. All my friends who started trying after me have babies already. I'm so happy for them, but it hurts.
It took me about 6 months after the MC before I was ready to think about it again. Give your psyche more time to heal even if your body already has.
Post a Comment