This has been a good but trying week. I got a new job, which I’m really excited about. It will be MUCH closer to home, and I’m psyched about that. I don’t know if they know I’m pregnant, though, and that worries me. I mean, it’s against the law for them to discriminate, and they hired me when I was visibly pregnant (but for all I know they didn’t notice or just thought I drank a lot of beer), but I still don’t want our sweet girl to be a source of contention. I don’t want my new co-workers to resent me because of it. I hope that everything will work out with my new job and it will be as good as I’m hoping it will be. I will work there for approximately 2.5 months before my scheduled c-section and I take about 2 months off work.
I am so excited about this baby, I really am. But it’s so hard not to be negative some days. I had some days dealing with that this week and as the weeks progress the days in which I struggle get more frequent. I am terrified. The further we go, the longer I’m pregnant, the harder she kicks, the more scared I am. She’s really healthy. She’s really strong. At this point when I was pregnant with Angel I had just started feeling concentrated kicks. With Eddy, Jim has already felt her moving, and we can see my belly move when she wiggles excessively. It’s great! But I’ve been here before. I’ve had a healthy pregnancy. I’ve gotten all the way to labor. And she’s gone. And I’m terrified. And I don’t want to even think about the possibility of losing Eddy in the same way. But it’s hard not to think about it; it’s hard not to imagine it. It’s hard to stay positive. It’s hard not to fall back into the place where I find ways to blame myself for losing Angel. It’s hard to think about finishing the nursery and then the possibility that we might come home with an empty car again with no baby to put in there. It’s beyond terrifying. I’ve never been more scared of anything in my entire life. I doubt I ever will be again. I know I’m not crazy, that it’s something that just has to be dealt with, that every parent that loses a child goes over and over and over and over a million more times the way his or her child was lost and how things could have and should have been different.
The further I get, the harder it is. But the more hopeful I am, too. An Internet acquaintance posted on Twitter the other day this link about a couple whose adoption was turned over when their son, who they adopted at birth, was three years old. His biological father, who was not his legal guardian when he was born/put up for adoption, wanted custody and a judge awarded it to him. Heartbreaking. This acquaintance has a son adopted from Vietnam and tweeted about how scary the domestic adoption option is because of stories like that. I agree. It’s hard for me to express it in 140 characters or less on Twitter, but I really feel for this woman and her husband! Jim and I had a horrible, terrible thing happen to us, yes, but we are still able to get pregnant, and I am still physically able to carry a child to term. I have done it. I hope to do it again this time. But this lovely woman is unable to do that. I feel selfish, in a way, for being so scared about this pregnancy, for being so nervous about the possibility of trying to get pregnant again. But at the same time, the heartbreak of losing Angel made me this way, not the fear of having a baby in general, not being scared of being pregnant or childbirth or being a parent. Even though I love Eddy more than I thought possible and she’s still 11.5 weeks away from her scheduled delivery, I loved Angel this much, too, from the moment I knew she was in there. I know for a fact that I can’t go through this again, emotionally. I have the same fears as Jessica about domestic adoption. I know personally a couple who, several times, dealt with the sorrow of bringing home a child and then the birth mother changing her mind. I have reservations about adoption in general. I’ve read the stories about international adoption problems! But I don’t think I can be pregnant again after Eddy’s birth. I’m done.
You, my faithful readers, know that Jim and I leaned toward adoption before I got pregnant again. We decided to leave things in the hands of the God we believe in and believe that if we were able to get pregnant again things would work out differently. But if we decide to add to our family in the future international adoption will probably be the way we do it. That, or we’ll decide not to do it. These last 20 weeks have been too scary for me to think about attempting to grow a baby again. Every day I prayed that she was still in there, that she was still okay. Now if she’s still for too long I get so scared (by too long I mean about 45 minutes – that’s how easily I scare! lucky for me she’s really wiggly and I don’t usually have to poke at her too much to get her to move). I listen to her heartbeat every night before I go to bed, even if she’s super active all day. I scheduled my c-section for 37 weeks, 1 day gestation because I was too scared to wait longer than that, for fear that since I went into labor at 39 weeks the first time, it will happen naturally earlier if I wait. I am so excited to get to 30 weeks because the doctor will have me coming in twice a week for non-stress test monitoring and every two weeks for ultrasounds. I will be so glad to have that extra care because I will be so glad to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m as okay as possible and that she’s as okay as possible.
I know that life in general is never guaranteed. That’s why I always tell Jim that I love him before we part. I want that to be the last thing he hears me tell him and the last thing I hear him tell me if we never get to speak again. I also know that life is too short to be scared to try things, to be pessimistic about life and the possibilities it holds. If I were too scared, I would have told Jim I couldn’t try again. But despite the fact that I’ve been strong, that Jim and I have made it through something horrible and come out together on the other side, that we have decided to dive in to try again, that we are more hopeful about Eddy’s chances of making it than we have ever been about something else, I can’t do it again after this.
The further I get, the harder it is. I am so ready for December 22. I am so ready to meet our baby. I want so badly to hold her in my arms, to feel her moving outside of my body, to hear her cry, to feel her warmth, for her to react when I kiss her, to not have to leave her in a cold morgue, to not have to leave her with someone that will give her back to us in a ceramic urn. The further I get, the more ready I am, and the more I know that I can’t do this again.