I woke up sad today. I've been feeling "off" since Monday afternoon. I though maybe it was seeing my cousins at the funeral, reliving the past. Tuesday when I felt off, I thought it was just not having a set morning task and Ellie and I butting heads, Wednesday when I felt sad, I chalked it up to the inevitable letdown of being anxious about something then having it be over. Adrenaline leaving your body so to speak. Today I woke up miserable. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep sleep sleep. It's going to be a Very Long Day. Surely.

Doug woke up early. "I had a bad dream" he said. "I woke up a 5:30 and was scared you weren't ok. I put my hand on your back but I had to wait a really long time" I'm a notorious still sleeper and shallow breather. Many a college roommate has woken me for fear of death. “I’m fine” I kissed him goodbye.
“I just don’t feel myself, you know?”
“Do you think it’s because you are getting your period?” he asked. (47 points on Monday??? Oh yeah, that’s pms!)

Now, normally that would aggravate you, right? You’d be all “Hey, just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t function. Just because I feel off doesn’t mean you aren’t an asshole. My house IS a mess, my stuff IS un-filed. My bamboo pillowcase DID rip and I need to get the damn sewing machine out and do a half ass job fixing it. Jerk” etc.

He continues “Did you want to be pregnant?” stressing the word “want”.
“I don’t know” I said into the front of his shirt. “Maybe. Not really. I don’t know. I don't think so” It’s not as if we tried. My doctor and I discussed going off the pill and I started not taking them this month. I’m taking vitamins “just in case” but we weren’t “trying trying”. I think, in the exact moment, his words were “Oops, I forgot.” Followed by something like “Can I get you a tissue?”

It’s not as if I want another baby.
It’s not as if I don’t.

I just can’t imagine functioning. I can’t imagine being good at it, I’m not sure if I had enough time with Ellie, and I’m definitely afraid of not being able to take care of her. Of Ellie. While pregnant.

It’s the same old thing. Unless you were with me the last time, during not post, I can’t explain what it was like to go from week 8 to week 28 wishing your baby would just die NOW so you wouldn’t have to bear the pain of her dieing after. “If you are going to take her, please take her.” I must have thought a thousand times, then cried through the night. “I’m a monster” I told Doug. Everyone thought I was fine, a trouper, a great sport. But I’m not sure that I want to feel that all over again. “It might not happen.” “Think positive” “Look how Ellie turned out.” Is what friends say. My doctors say “It’s likely going to happen again.” “Come see me BEFORE you even start trying.” “You’re going to need to come in every week”. How can I do this again? How can I shortchange Ellie for 28 weeks knowing that I could end up with a damaged baby regardless? What if I get pregnant, and then can’t “stay down” the same way? Who will lift Ellie out of her crib in the morning? A stranger? Someone I PAY to take her? When will we cuddle, walk, run, climb slides? I don’t want to lose one minute with her - the last minutes we are alone for life- to usher in another baby, that may not even make it.

Perhaps, if it happened accidentally, I wouldn’t have to make the choice.