Monday, September 12, 2016

Keep on Keepin' On...

Alex started his new job last week. That was probably the quickest week ever. It was so nice to have him home. Of course, now we will get him home more anyway.

In a way it was almost nice to get back into a routine. I feel like we were stuck too much in this whole, free, do whatever we want mentality. It was nice to be able to grieve and process without the added stress of a lot of things, but at some point it is time to get back to reality.

John and I managed to get out the door without the first morning. In fact, I was at work earlier than I had been in awhile. The rest of the days weren't so great. It will be hard to get used to this new routine, Alex has done drop-off since I went back to work when John was 8 weeks old. But, we managed, although Little Man was looking for Daddy and wanting to tell him all about the big trucks we saw. Thankfully, he stopped crying during drop-off awhile ago, so it was a lot easier for my Mama heart. He LOVES his new classroom something fierce so that helps a lot. We were a little worried about him moving up to the next classroom, since he loves this one so much, but it turns out that his Toddler teacher that he was obsessed with just moved up to the next classroom so he will have her again. That makes me feel a lot better.

Things have been going alright. I mean, as well as to be expected. Well... I did just find out that the FOUR times that I had to do blood work were charged at a whopping $50 a pop, so that's fun. (And Alex wonders why we are switching to his health insurance...) I understand that insurance is a business and that there's no emotion involved, but there's just something about getting a bill for $200 and not having a baby to show for it. Kind of a kick in the face. But, whatever. It wasn't nearly has devastating as the bill for the hospital visit for the first time. See? Better!

I'm trying really hard to let myself feel without drowning. It's quite the slippery slope. I've been throwing myself into projects at home. Brainstorming ways to not be ridiculously broke. You know, fun stuff. Trying to find anything that takes my mind off the craziness of it all. I try not to think in terms of "this isn't fair", "we don't deserve this", "why us". That doesn't really seem to get us anywhere good. I tried to put on a brave face for awhile and talk about how if John is all we get then we are still so blessed. Unfortunately, Alex has been trying to remind me of this when I'm down and the more I hear it, the more I hate it. I know I said it first. I know he's just trying to help. But, I don't want that to be our life. John needs siblings. I want to be able to choose the number of children I have. I don't want to be limited by health, fertility, money, fear, etc. etc. etc. I want to be free to be the next Dugger family (minus the scandal) if I want. So I think I'm in the "tantrum" throwing part of the grieving process. Next I'll be stomping my feet and kicking rocks...

I've been waiting, not so patiently, for the "time for another one" conversations to start back up. The universe has seemed to have smiled upon be and put a break to them for the time being. Even people who don't know what is going on have stopped asking. I haven't really formulated my response yet. I can tell them we are done. I can tell them we aren't ready. I can tell them we are trying. I can tell them we are trying, but lost one. I could tell them to go fuck themselves because the last time that I checked, my reproductive plans were no one's business but Alex and I's. So, yeah, we are still working on that one. Maybe I'll be in a better place when I get asked.

I got a new tattoo on Thursday. I thought for awhile about what I wanted, but seemed to struggle with it. This tattoo seemed a little more personal and raw than tattoos of the past. I talked with my artist, who I'm obsessed with, and we came up with the idea of a single black/gray feather. It's on my side underneath the tattoo of John's name and birthday. All of my babies together. I originally wanted to do two feather to represent them, but I thought the symbolism of them was more important than the individual representation of them. I've grown to love it, but it definitely took me a couple of days to be anything but numb to it. It was just a glaring reminder of where I am. Maybe I should have waited awhile before getting it. I wouldn't have changed what I got, or where, I just think maybe it might have been a little easier to process emotionally.

I've been trying hard not to sensor my writing. I can't remember who can and can't see this. I don't know who still reads it or not. I'm sure my mom still does (Hi Mom!) and is just letting me process my thoughts without calling attention to them in the real world. She's good like that. It's hard though, when you wonder what people are going to read about you. That's why I had such a hard time when my blog was more advertised. People in "real life" knowing stuff about me that I didn't tell them directly. Some people used it as their way of knowing what was going on with me, without actually making the effort to be in my life. That was tough. But, I'm just trying to do things a million ways different than last time. Last time I hid this. Didn't talk about it. I drank too much. I got angry. I slipped deeper into depression. It wasn't good. So, I think I'll stay in the light this time. That includes talking about it every time I feel like I need to talk about it.

It's hard to plan life though. I keep looking to the future and wondering what we will be doing at certain times. My Sister in Law is getting married in November. We are trying to figure out a plan for John. He's in the wedding and invited to the festivities, but he's two and not always the most behaved party guest. So we are coming up with plans on plans on plans. Part of me just wants to know that I'll be pregnant and therefore all of these plans with be mute. No need to plan to attend an after party until all hours of the morning if you're all knocked up and unable to drink. Ya know. But, I don't know my future, so who knows where we will be.

Alex and I have been talking about planning a trip in May for our 10 year anniversary. I don't know where we will be then. Part of me wants to plan this fun getaway. Finally get Alex on a plane. Go somewhere warm. Enjoy ourselves freely, but what is the point if I don't know what our life is like. And how long do I plan my life around a "what if"? When do I actually start living it again? Although, "living" it more seems like "giving up", so I think I should probably process through that first. I think that will be pretty important to my timing choice.

Then again, what if this is all for nothing? What if we just had this absolutely shitty experience, again, and I get pregnant relatively quickly and all ends well. That brings up the whole discussion of a 3rd child and possibly facing this again, but I guess that's another monster that we could probably deal with later. I mean, let's work on this one first.

I hope that's our story.

I hope that we just look back on this as some terrible experience that had a profound effect (affect?) on our lives, but we do that while looking at our beautiful children running around. Remembering the darkness while staring at the light.

Oh how I hope that's our story.

I've been praying a lot. I don't consider myself to be overly religious. I started praying the night John was born though. I don't think anyone knows that. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I prayed every single night for God to keep him safe. I was so petrified that he would be taken away from me. After everything we had been through. I had a really hard time when he was first born, I constantly checked him to make sure he was breathing. For months. So I prayed, hoping that there was a higher power somewhere that would watch over him when I couldn't.

I prayed when I got pregnant this time, but I already knew that the decision had been made before I started. I tried, half-heartedly for a miracle, but I knew in my heart that that story was already written.

So, now I pray. I don't like to talk about it. It's almost like when you're little and don't tell anyone your birthday wish because it won't come true. Although, I'm sure that prayers are a whole different set of rules. I think you can talk about them. But I pray. I pray for our family. I pray for the family that we want. I pray that this season is quick and that we are blessed with another sweet baby soon. I pray that we find a way to make it all OK. I pray.

But there are still those dark moments. Like when I lost my temper at John on Saturday. Frustrated of saying the same thing 12,000 times and him not listening. Frustrated that I can't find a way to get him to stop hitting when he is mad. So I lost my cool. I yelled. We both ended up in tears. And that's when the darkness came. For a second, the thought crossed my mind, "this is why God isn't giving you another baby, because you're a bad Mom. Because you can't handle it". Which brought more tears. That's a whole rabbit hole that I've been trying not to go down. The "whys". Maybe I can't handle another baby. Maybe I can't afford another baby. Who knows. Maybe wanting one isn't enough.

I try not to go down those roads though. They don't lead anywhere good. 

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