Trying

So now I'm starting to get the questions about when we're going to try again. It really doesn't bother me, which is somewhat of a surprise. I thought for sure that would surface all these emotions again and I would feel that anger rise up inside and be angry.

But I'm not.

For the most part, people are very respectful and are asking just because they would love to see me comforted with another pregnancy. But that's not what I want. Really, that's not what would bring me comfort. I know a lot of women can't wait for their first period so they can start trying again, but I guess I'm not in that group.

I'm in a completely different group, or maybe it's not even a group at all. Maybe I'm alone in my thinking. I just can't bring myself to start thinking about another baby yet, and I think it will be some time before I can. I've analyzed that perspective, and I think there are several reasons why I, personally, am feeling this.

1) There's the obvious physical reason. I get terribly sick. Horribly sick. Emergency Room sick. And I don't want to do that again any time soon.

2) Maybe it's selfish, but I'm kind of enjoying my time with E and with Ben and with...myself again.

3) I feel like trying this soon takes away from honoring the little one that we lost. I want there to be a spot in our family for him, more than just one extra month than we thought would be between E and our next child. I feel like there needs to be a space big enough for me to remember, "there's another child in between these two."

4) I want to be emotionally healed enough that if, God forbid, something like this happened again, it wouldn't totally destroy me.

5) I think the biggest reason is that I want to make sure I'm ready for the sake of our next baby. I want to make sure that I want THAT child, and it's not just that I want to be pregnant or I want to have a baby this year. I want to be able to focus on that specific little one that will come to us and not always be thinking and grieving for William.

So really, I think it will probably take me a good year. Past my due date, past the day we found out what had happened. Or at least close to that. Maybe Christmas. It has to be after Thanksgiving, because I think having another August due date would be too difficult. September or October would be great. But who knows? I may change my mind next week. Or God may have another plan in store for me too.

So in a way, I'm glad people are starting to ask. Because then I can tell them and they won't be watching for that pale, sick look, or that little pooch under my shirt, or for frequent runs to the restroom. They'll know that when it comes, it comes. And that may be a while off.

On a different note, I'm at the point where I've started sending this blog to a few of my very close friends. I'm okay now with people who actually know me knowing what I've been feeling. But I do want to say one thing to everyone who reads this blog that I've been thinking about writing for several weeks now, as a disclaimer of sorts. Don't feel like you have to feel sorry for me. That's not the purpose of this blog, to gain sympathy. Though it's been awful, and terrible, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, the only thing I would trade this experience for is having that baby in my arms. But I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I've grown like I've never grown before and learned things that have made me so much better. This blog is to help. It's to help those who are going through the same thing, it's to help those who know someone going through the same thing so they can understand, it's to help anyone who is grieving, it's to help people understand what this is like so they can see that perspective. And most importantly, in my eyes, it's to help me heal. Thank you so much to all of you who read this, whether I know you in person or not. I couldn't do this without you.

So if you are reading this, please take away some joy and understanding and the big picture of what life is all about--grieving, growing, and finding joy.

Starting Again

So two Sundays ago was terrible.

Sunday morning I woke up to terribly sharp pains on my right side. I was completely hunched over while I was getting ready for church. I could barely get dressed.

About a week-and-a-half ago I had the same thing, though not as severe. I thought for sure I had appendicitis, that on top of everything else going on, I would have to have an appendectomy, bringing me back to the hospital where everything happened. But I called my doctor and found that no, it wasn't my appendix. I was ovulating.

So I've been dreading the inevitable start of the bleeding. And that Sunday, doubled over in pain, I knew it was starting.

Sure enough, by the time I got to church, I was normal. I was having a normal cycle. My body knew it was no longer pregnant.

Ugh.

So then I walk into the meeting, and the first thing is a baby blessing.

You've got to be kidding me.

I thought ot myself, "I'll be fine. It's been over a month. Surely I can sit through a baby blessing." But no more than two words into it, I felt that sob creeping up into my chest, and I had to get up quickly before I disturbed anyone.

I had a good cry in the bathroom.

Just too many emotional things in one day. I hate having a period. I'm not supposed to have one for a good year at least. And the blood just reminded me of everything.

Sorry to be graphic, but...what else can I say?

New

I feel like a completely different person.

I don't know if I can pinpoint exactly what it is, but I'm going to try.

I think I just view life completely differently now. Things seem a little more fragile, a little more real, a little more temporary, but also a little more eternal. I just think of things in different ways. I notice more. I listen more.

But you know, I think I might be happier. Maybe not happier, but more carefree. I find myself not caring about what everyone else thinks. Today in Target, I ran up and down the isles and rode on my shopping cart just because it makes E laugh. And making her laugh is what I live for now. I could care less that other people are staring at me and probably thinking I must be her babysitter because I'm too immature to be her mom. But I love it. And I just talk to her all the time too. We have silly little conversations in the store and and sing at the top of our lungs and just have...fun. I don't feel that need to have adult conversation anymore, aside from with Ben, of course. I'm just, well, content. I think my priorities are finally right.

I realized today that it's been over a month since we lost William. I can't believe it's been that long. He is still so real, everything still feels so fresh. But I think I've grown up in the past few weeks, faster than I ever have before. And while it was the most terrible, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching growing up I've ever experienced, I think it will make me better.

I guess that would mean being William's mom makes me better.