...I write lately seems to start with I'm tired, or I'm cranky, or I feel like crap.
But, it's true. I'm completely beyond exhausted, and I feel like a really ungrateful bitch not to be enjoying every second of this pregnancy after wanting it for so long. I mean, aren't I supposed to be running through a field of buttercups wearing a lovely white eyelet dress, and a straw hat, singing joy and happiness at every turn?
Instead I'm periodically breaking into tears, sobbing like a fool, over whether or not the potatoes will cook in time for the meat and grilled veg. Not that I can eat said meal....everything I eat tastes like paste, except for Halloween candy, and lemon pudding. I don't have nausea and vomiting per se, just an incredibly bad taste in my mouth at all times. I even went to the dentist to get a cleaning, thinking hey, maybe I just have a cavity, or some buildup? Nope... and funnily enough, even though I'm on all these blood thinners, I hardly bled compared to how I usually bleed after someone has poked at my gums with sharp instruments.
Worst neurosis? Last night, I couldn't sleep a wink because Kaz was out at a sleepover and he had left our house crying for various reasons. First he thought his favourite TV show couldn't tape because we had lost the TV clicker, then he didn't want to bring a very special & expensive model set and the other boy was pressuring him to bring it. Kaz didn't know how to say no to the kid, so he was bringing it, head held low, and I stopped him, pulled him aside quietly, and asked him if he wanted me to say no, and be the bad guy.
He looked relieved, so I did. I took the set out of his arms, put it back in his room, and told him to tell his friend that Kaz had a mean mother. Trouble was, part of the model set was already in the other kid's car, and I couldn't get it back, but at least it was in one piece, and it could come back that way the next morning, which it did.
The other kid is really a nice kid btw, Kaz is just reluctant to tell other people how he feels. He's very quiet and even stoic, until he falls apart, like last night. And the big thing that made him fall apart, wasn't toys or TV shows.
It was the new baby, or rather, what might happen with the new baby, and the uncertainty. I don't think he really wanted anyone to know about my pregnancy, because he knows the odds are slim it will work out. He remembers every loss, every time he got his hopes up, and every time it didn't work. At 11, he's an old soul, and he's no fool.
I didn't want to tell him yet, but he walked in on me weeks ago injecting heparin, and rather than telling my son a lie, like "Momma's doing drugs", I told him the far scarier truth, that I'm pregnant again, and Christ knows what will happen this time, but I'm taking medication, and here's hoping! He's been running around ever since, trying to help me carry things, lifting things, making dinner, offering to come with me to ultrasounds, support me during labour; completely invested in the process.
And then last week, Mac overheard a phone conversation I was having with a Doctor's office regarding appointment times---and figured it all out in three seconds flat. One minute after that he was already having anxiety about whether or not he was ready to be a Big Brother, where would the baby sleep, what toys he should get out of the basement....also getting ahead of himself and totally over invested in the process.
Yes, they are related to me, why do you ask?
Anyway, I thought they were doing okay, but then Mac tells Kaz's friend I'm pregnant and Kaz didn't want him to know yet and erupts in tears right there in the car, and is overly sensitive the rest of the night. The friend was very nice about it, very cool, still Mac shouldn't have said anything.
I felt absolutely awful, just terrible the entire night because I kept worrying that he needed to talk to me or be with me, or ask me something, and he was not with me. Anyway, we've talked some more today, and he seems fine, but I wonder.
The next time someone tells you that we're lucky, parents who have living children after infertility and loss, just remind them, it's not just about the adults, but our surviving children. They don't get a free pass from grief and anguish and worry. Even if we never tell them, the littlest ones can sense stress, they pick it up like sponges from the atmosphere around us. And if we do share and are open, is that any better? I felt I should tell them the truth in age appropriate ways, in ways they can understand, so I did. And now I can't unring the bell.
Even if this pregnancy works out, I wonder how much I've damaged my boys in my quest to have the big family I've always dreamed of. When I saw the tears dripping down my little boy's face, the guilt and blame were overwhelming.
I should've told him I was doing heroin when I had the chance.