Moving On

Today is Pregnancy/Infant Loss day. It is a day that I wish, with all that I am, did not have to exist.

I have written about our struggles and losses a few times. We have been trying to conceive another child since 2011. We have lost 4 pregnancies (that we were aware of). Positive pregnancy tests no longer cause joy, just anxiety over future heartbreak. I would love nothing more than to have another baby.

That, actually, is not entirely true. There is one thing I want more than another baby. I want for my child, the one I have here and now, to have the very best life possible. It was this realization that made us decide to stop trying. For now.

Charting and temping and timing everything was consuming me. The symptom watching and day counting occupied areas of my heart and mind that I would rather give to my daughter. Pressure to ween her, pressure to take medications, pressure to not feel pressure were all too much.

I can't do it anymore.

We finally know what is wrong. Why I keep losing pregnancies and then not conceiving at all. We even know how to fix it. All it would take is a phone call, an appointment, and a prescription. Just like that we could be well on our way to parenthood 2.0. Then, what? What is it that is stopping us?

I am exhausted. I am scared. I am over the sad looks from people when they talk about conceiving. I am over the "it'll happen, someday" comments. I am over all of it.

The stress of the past 2 years has had an enormous toll on me. I have developed severe anxiety and insomnia. I can't deal with stress well and am not nearly as present as I would like to be. I need to move on from this all.

I need to focus on myself before I can care for another human being.

At first, I felt selfish. Then I felt liberated. I talked with my husband. We agreed that taking a break from it all would be best. Then, the very next day, the question I always hate, was asked:

Do you think you will have another?

But this time, instead of sad eyes and an explanation of our losses, I simply said: We aren't sure yet.

Because we aren't. Maybe we won't try again. Maybe we will. Maybe we will adopt, or foster, or get a hamster. Maybe we will find comfort in the family we have and stop breaking our hearts over what we don't have, what might have been.

My heart will forever have tiny pieces missing. Each little soul that I carried will always be a part of who I am. I will never forget the intense love I had, no matter how fleeting their lives were. And, when we are ready, if we are ready, we will try to add another amazing person to this crazy life of ours. Meanwhile, I am soaking up the light that radiates from the very being of my daughter.

My sincerest love to you all who have felt the unimaginable pain of loss.