In the years since we had Liam we've dealt with concerns about insurance, maternity leave, and job changes. But in the past year, it seems as though things have settled in to a point where having another should be relatively easy (as if having a newborn is ever easy). In February, Craig accepted a promotion that moved us closer to my family. I accepted a teaching position in a traditional K-12 school, and while teaching is never "just 9 months out of the year," this position would offer me some freedom that my previous teaching position did not. Yet, adding a fourth member to our family has seemed nearly impossible.
For over a year, we've been "not really trying to get pregnant, but also not really doing anything to prevent it," we've experienced the joy of two positive pregnancy tests, and the utter devastation when seemingly "normal" spotting turns into not so normal bleeding. The night before Liam's fourth birthday, we found out about the most recent miscarriage, when an ultrasound revealed "no fetal pole." Devastating.
And I've coped with that devastation in the same way I've coped with every other stressful situation in my life -- by burying myself in textbooks and work and every other random project that will keep my mind off the actual stressful situation.
"Um, he's ..."
"Oh, no," I thought. "He's clearly not talking about Liam. Liam's not even a toddler any more."
"Well, actually, I miscarried," I responded.
When the dentist left, the hygienist slipped a post-it in my hand. "Here," she said. "It's an organization out of Minnesota. They do great work."
"Thanks," I said, as I buried the post-it deep in my pocket.
In my most recent appointment with my OB, I brought up the fact that I had recently read something about Vitamin D and fertility, and well, you know, I've always been concerned about my Vitamin D levels.
Ever so carefully, he let me know that I should indeed be taking a multivitamin that has Vitamin D, among other important nutrients, but, perhaps, before I start trying to get pregnant again, I should make sure and consider my health, including my mental health.
That night, I walked into my bedroom to find Liam sneaking out of the bathroom well after his bed time. "Mom," he whispered, "Do you think you could lay with me?" And, in spite of all of my fears of raising a spoiled rotten only child, I put aside whatever else I was working on and said yes.
It's a start.