Lately I've been really emotional. Most of this I have kept to myself which is pretty rare. But quite frankly, there's some part of me that's just had trouble processing it. And I'm busy, so most of it I've just shoved down into the new found well that I've never had in my entire life. I'm a get it off my chest type of girl.
This morning though, I caught a glimpse of jennepper's story over @Maybe if you just relax on my facebook account. I went back on her blog and caught up with what had happened to her twin pregnancy since I last read like six months ago. Heartbreaker.
Later when I ran to the store, Taylor Swift's song "innocent" came on while I was driving home. I started crying because I finally got a grip on why I've been feeling liking crying so much lately.
I'm so scared I might not even try.
I always try. Always.
I'm not so much scared of trying for a second child and failing in the DE-IVF process. I am dreading possibly putting Fairyeggs through the process again. I am dreading laying out that much money on something with the equivalent odds of playing red or black on a roulette table. What I'm terrified of is getting pregnant and losing the baby.
By the time I finally got over my infertile fears of losing the pregnancy during the first trimester, I was on my way to Alaska.
I felt a few stretches of happiness during my second trimester but really spent most of my time somewhere in between happy and scared.
Then I went to California and finally celebrated with my baby shower. For about two weeks I felt joyous and excited. I find that ironic because during that time I was losing my mucus plug and had no idea that the signs were there that something wasn't going right.
Back in Alaska, we closed on our house and then that night I was admitted to the hospital. I laid immobile for two weeks. Then infrequent trips to the restroom and shower. You know the rest--everything turned out fine.
I know that there are many babies who are born early and do just perfectly fine. But let me tell you that for me, when I hear there is an 85% chance of my child living. I hear that there is a 15% chance of him not. In all of this, I have learned that I rarely come out on the good side of the statistics.
Part of me rages at the stupidity of going forward with a second try. What the hell am I thinking in trying to do this again? Why would I put my family through this again?
So here I sit crying.
I know I need to go into the OB and discuss this but that's all rational and shit.