Friday, March 14, 2014

Decisions and recovery

During my pregnancy with James, everything with him went perfectly. He hit all his check points throughout, and was even born on his due date. With me, I suffered through the pregnancy.

He brought me joy, quiet moments of fluttering, sturdy kicks that made me dream of my boy kicking a ball in a yard. In the darkest hours of that pregnancy, my son was my lifeline. I was so depressed and alone, the only thing that I could cling to was the hope and promise that he represented to me. I dreamed of him growing into a beautiful strong intelligent and good man. I still dream of the man he will be even as he is my little boy. He is funnier than I ever dreamed he would be and he is constantly surprising me with his multitude of talents and the depth of his feelings and thoughts.

I learned a lot about my body during the pregnancy. I learned a lot about genetics.

The labor and delivery went about as well as could be expected. Thirteen hours of labor, resulting in a perfect beautiful baby boy.

I was told that the problems I had during the pregnancy with James would be worse in any subsequent pregnancies and that it would effect any baby I tried to conceive, possibly even causing miscarriage or stillbirth.

I have two sisters. We have not always gotten along, but I wouldn't trade having them for being an only child. I dreamed that James would have a younger sibling, but the doctors scared me, and my body scared me.

Last year I had a surprise surgery and learned afterward, that I could ameliorate some of the difficulty with another pregnancy through another surgery.

I knew that I wanted James, but not until after he was already a fact, and then nothing in the world could change my mind about him.

I know that I want another baby. Even though I'm afraid of being older, and I worry about how James will react. I worry about the work and the time and the money involved. I also worry about being abandoned again while pregnant, but I know that my partner truly loves me and isn't afraid.

I put off the surgery because I was afraid, partially because no one enjoys going under the knife, partially because I knew and know the recovery will be hard, and partially because it's one of the last things standing between me and another baby.

I know that whatever happens, I will survive and I will not let my family fail or fall. If another baby is meant to be, I will welcome it. If not, that will also be okay. James is enough.

What I have to do now is focus on recovering and getting well and healthy. We have time.

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