Going to the OB or even just the office is a mixed bag of emotions for me. I've spent SO much time there. It's very familiar. It holds some of my happiest moments and some very very sad ones. I heard both of my babies heartbeats there for the first time, I found out my dream of having a girl would be a reality there, I met the doctor that would walk through hell with us and a team of medical staff I owe the little sanity I have to. It's like home there and yet, it gives me anxiety. Going there means there WILL be other pregnant ladies and those things are still hard for me. It means embracing all those feelings and walking down a very sad memory lane.
January has been a good month. No tears and feeling very light hearted, but my drive to the OB made me feel a bit sick. Seeing my "peeps" felt great and talking with them was even better, but also hard.
My OB had a heart to heart with me and I was not expecting it...I mean I was, but I also was not. He asked some hard questions. Hard questions for me, ones I usually shy away from answering. His first question was if Brian and I had started to think about growing our family. I immediately burst into tears. Brian and I discussed that we would wait until Mason was two (3 more months) to have that conversation, but of course it's something that is on my mind every single day.
I'm so torn because I don't feel done, but I also don't feel anywhere near ready to walk down this road again.
He asked if I needed a living sibling for M. The answer is yes.
He asked if adoption was an option (he has an adopted child so it's not like a "why don't you JUST adopt" question) he knows how big and scary adoption is in itself. My answer was no. The funny thing is that in high school I talked seriously about my desire to adopt one day. I even knew which country I wanted to adopt from. After everything we have been through, knowing a little about adoption and its uncertainties, I can say that does not seem like a road I am willing to go down.
We talked for a long time, much longer than I expected and I cried the whole time. We talked about my fear of pregnancy, my fear that Mason may or may not get a living sibling, my fears about never having a living daughter, my jealousy and anger over other people getting to have their "whole families", daughters, fearless pregnancies etc.
We talked about what a hard infant Mason was and how that was not a happy time for me. He even said that I needed to do this again to have a pleasant newborn experience because I deserve it, but we all know that deserving things doesn't mean shit. Plus at the end of the day, I feel like Mason being alive is all I was really allowed to wish for.
I could tell he wanted to promise me that another pregnancy would end in a happy healthy baby and mama. I could tell that he wanted to "fix" me and make me better, I could tell that each tear of mine was killing him, but nothing he could say fixes this. Nothing brings Addison back and anything else will never be enough.
We talked about Addison and said her name. She is a person to us both and that is validating. It's not enough, but it was nice.
I think he was surprised to see how much I am still grieving. He gets it, but he doesn't. He tries, but all his children are all alive and he still believes things happen for a reason. I explained that there are no reasons good enough and nothing will ever be worth the price of Addison's life. He gets it, but he doesn't.
An emotional visit to say the least. Good, but also very sad (the actual appointment part is less than fun, but over quickly).
I stayed for a while and had my blood drawn. Got my birth control prescription refilled, we joked to keep the BC coming by the truckload.
I pulled my shit together, fixed my face and headed out. I left feeling like I wouldn't be back until next year's appointment...I suppose that means baby plans do not feel like they will take place in 2014. Brian has given me a cutoff "baby making" date of June 2015. For his own reasons (which are important to him) he doesn't want to have children after he is 35...no pressure.
I hate that this is such an emotional decision, I hate that another pregnancy would only mean fear, I hate that another pregnancy would make me take so many steps back with all the steps forward I have taken in happiness. I hate that without another pregnancy a living sibling won't be possible. Most of all I hate that another pregnancy won't bring my Addison back. Hate it.