"Dead, there's nothing we can do for them, and we don't know what they'd want, we can't even guess...And so in my grief I understand that mourning is a kind of ventriloquism; we put words into the mouths of our bereavers, but of course it's all entirely about us, our wants, our needs, the dead are satisfied, we are greedy, greedy, greedy, unseemly, self-obsessed. If your child did not survive his birth, everyone can see that clearly. I want. I need. Not him. No pretending."
A big THANK YOU for sending all the books. I've been reading them and re-learning some of the points I had apparently forgotten.
I KNOW it seems obvious, doesn't it? But it's something that has to be understood with more than just shock and horror. There is nothing I can do for them and my missing them is purely selfish. There is nothing I can do for them. They are gone. How I choose to integrate their little existences into my own is entirely up to me. When I realized this, it was a freeing moment, the likes of which I haven't really felt before.
So how selfish am I? Selfish enough to let it tarnish the happiness I have with my little living family? No.
Selfish enough to let it scare me away from hoping for another child? Guess what? No.
Though it will seem fast and possibly inappropriate, we have made a decision. With an eye on the ticking clock and a knowledge of ALL of the things that are going against us, we have decided to try again (how I hate that "try again" terminology, but I can not escape it here). As I told Dr. A, "We didn’t have any testing done because we were SURE we were done. But we have realized that even though it was a “surprise” pregnancy (and we weren’t sure about it when we first found out), we really would like to add another child to our family."
We go into this with our eyes open...with our hearts open. We know the potential for disaster is great. But we can't let that make our decisions for us when the potential for joy is...beyond words.
I spoke with Dr. A [interestingly enough, a crow WALKED across the highway in front of the van while I was on the phone with him (no, I wasn't driving)] and he was awesome. He will have another high-risk OB review my medical history/file just to see if there is "anything new" that he's not aware of that might help.
Dr. A said that as long as I can handle it mentally and emotionally, then he's willing to do whatever it takes to make it successful. He fully acknowledges that I'm a medical freak...though he says it in much nicer terms. I got a chuckle when he said, "it (recurrent early miscarriage) is different than what happens to you." What happens to me. I don't know...that was just an oddly appropriate turn of phrase.
We all know the biological facts and statistics...it's going to be a medical gamble. I'm physically healthy and there is no reason not to try.
As far as my mental state, it is very helpful that he seems to honestly care. I mean, how many doctors give you their cell phone number and tell you to call whenever you need to talk? He answers my questions and always always listens to my concerns. And, strangely enough, it is comforting when he admits he doesn't know what to say. He's my doctor, but he doesn't think he's super-human...which works for me.
I have no illusions (or delusions) about what this will be. I know it very well could end in disaster again. But if we lose again, at the very least I will be able to say that I didn't let fear dictate my decisions...that I did everything I could to realize my dreams.
This doesn't mean I won't be afraid or have days where my hope disappears. But I have to try. I realize now that when Little Bug died I was more sad about the prospect of no baby than I was that I had lost this baby. This baby didn't even have a gender assigned to it...so how could I really miss it? But the loss of all hope was too much to bear. We want another child. It took an accidental conception to make us realize that. I suppose that was Little Bug's gift to us.
Little Bug, accidental conception or not, was worth it. Alex and Travis were worth it. Worth the love and happiness they brought. But they are gone and they are satisfied. I can't put my own words into their mouths and then blame them for the fear that is created. It's all me. And it's time I take back my life.
Wish us luck...we're gonna need it.
**update: Dr. A's consult doctor wants to see me. *gulp*