I know I’ve been quiet the last two weeks. I realize that I don’t owe anyone any explanations, but I’ve been in a funk recently. I think it started last Tuesday. We started telling close friends that we were pregnant with Isaac a bit after the 12-week mark. On a cold day, we cuddled up on the couch with our 12-week ultrasound images and Facetimed our friends down in North Carolina. With one particular set of friends, just after we showed them our pictures, they responded with their own. They were expecting too and just two weeks behind us. A bunch of our North Carolina friends ended up expecting Fall babies, but no one was due quite so close to Isaac.
Last Tuesday, our friends gave birth to a healthy baby boy. I saw it on Facebook while I was laying in bed, and, at first, I was okay. I was happy for them. Then I started to worry about telling my husband. Should I tell him? I had recently told him that another friend of ours was pregnant, and he had told me that he didn’t want to know that. I ended up waking him up to tell him. Moments later, I was crying. I am so happy for them. It just hurts so much to see what we are missing out on.
The next day was even more difficult. I woke up in a bad place and things just kept going wrong. I had to challenge a contractor on the project I am managing, and I stressed for most of the day over how to do it. A package I was excited to receive that day got delayed. Then the MFM we were supposed to meet with Friday called to say they couldn’t see us Friday and needed to reschedule even though my husband had reworked his whole week to be home Friday. Then at the end of the day, in response to my questions, the contractor quit. Every last one of those things ended up being resolved just fine, but I was a wreck on Wednesday.
We ended up getting to meet with the MFM on Thursday. It went well. They have a plan, part of which is getting my arthritis under control before attempting another pregnancy. It seems there is some link between autoimmune diseases and preeclampsia. They even got us an appointment with a rheumatologist in the same hospital for this week (I had tried independently and was told they couldn’t see me until next year). I actually left the hospital smiling, because I felt so much hope. Then, I saw another baby boy had been born to a sweet girl that I went to high school with. I didn’t have any immediate reaction. However, then I started thinking more about our new doctors and how seriously they take our care. It made me realize how NOT seriously our care was taken during my pregnancy with Isaac. Isaac deserved this care just as much as our future baby does, but he did not get it.
If the doctors had taken us more seriously and paid even half as much attention as they are now, we’d probably be cuddling Isaac instead of figuring out how to keep living after losing a lifetime with our baby boy. It’s hard to see how easy it is for doctors to help us now when it is too late to save Isaac.
All of this stuff has made be feel a bit uninspired lately. I’m not excited about my pottery class and I haven’t been able to come up with coherent blog posts. It’s even resulted in me struggling to write the letters to Isaac in his journal. Times are tough, but I know that’s to be expected. Hopefully, if I keep plowing forward day by day, things will get a bit more manageable.