Lying in the bed, in the middle of the night, I realized I am terrified of getting pregnant.
A number of the baby lost mamas who blog and whose babies died in the last year are pregnant again. I am happy for them. I wish them peace as they negotiate the immense fear of pregnancy after loss. I look forward to the news of their rainbow babies being born, healthy, perfect…alive.
I do not want to be one of them. Not yet.
First, I think my knees, ankles and feet would up and quit if I put on another twenty or thirty pounds. I am not physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually ready to attempt to bring another child into the world. It might be different if I didn’t already have a live child. Maybe.
All I have to do is think about the blood. I could have died.
At my six week follow up to the surgery, the doctor looked at me and said, give yourself a year, then decide.
I am not ready. Getting pregnant, adopting, having an only child – all of these thoughts make me ache.
I am not ready to decide.