Friday, February 22, 2013

Floating, Swimming, Sinking, Repeat

I've been a mess of emotions lately.

Jon has been doing really well with his weight loss program. He's been exercising regularly (aiming for 1 hour per day). He's been sticking to the shakes/bars. He's been tempted and resisted temptation. This should make me extremely happy, and it does, yet... the same time I'm sad, in a state of despair, my level of hope ebbs and flows. Why, with all of the good that Jon is doing am I feeling like this? Trying for another child.

I know I haven't written about it yet, but in November we had a pre-conception appointment with the MFM to come up with a game plan for our next pregnancy. We came up with a plan that we felt good about, but Jon and I weren't ready to start trying yet. We knew that our relationship needed work (a fair amount of damage was done after Oscar and Bella were born, and then after Tittle died) to help us reconnect as a couple. When Jon returned from his business trips in December, he told me that he would be okay if I didn't go back on birth control. I was happy elated that he was ready (we were a step closer), but I wasn't ready yet. Then, after his appointment with his primary doctor he told me that he wasn't ready anymore.

This definitely crushed me a little bit. I had hope that we were moving closer to another child, but then that hope was taken away because Jon wanted to work on him. I know that he needs to do this, but it just felt like another delay in getting to my dream of another child at home. Jon and I continued to talk, and he said that he might not need to wait until he was completely through the program to try for another child; my hopes were raised, and we continued to work on our relationship.

Jon said to go ahead and schedule an appointment with our fertility doctors; my hopes were raised again. Why would Jon suggest we go talk with our RE if he's not moving closer to being ready? After the appointment, I asked Jon what he thought about the conversation we had (I'll share in a future post) and he said he needed to process everything. Later that night, he told me that he wasn't ready to talk about it, but it was "positive". My hopes soared! I knew our relationship wasn't to the point where we needed it to be, but if Jon knew he wanted to try again and I knew I wanted to try again, we were making progress. All we then needed to do was make sure we both felt our relationship was improved.

The next night, after we put Gus to bed, Jon said that he was ready to discuss the appointment. I don't remember the entire conversation, but the end result is that Jon's fears are too big for him right now to try again. I was, and am, absolutely crushed. I was completely blind-sided that Jon would say anything other than some of his fears were relieved and the only thing standing in our way was us working on us.

Through a lengthy conversation, with lots of crying, we are, effectively at a standstill, with Jon planning to attend my next counseling appointment on March 15. I hope and dream with all my heart that we will bring another child home. Jon's fears, while they are his fears and he has a right to his feelings, stand in my way of achieving my hope and dream. I'm upset. I'm upset that I've been on a roller-coaster for so long. I'm saddened that I've already given up the hopes and dreams I had for three of my children and now I may have to give up the hopes and dreams I have of a fourth child. I know that we aren't pregnant, and that this child only exists in my mind, but that still is a form of existence. I have already had visions of Gus playing with both a little brother and little sister. I've had visions of Gus putting his ears and hands to my tummy to try to hear or feel the baby. I've had visions of the two of them trying to gang up on Jon and me to get what they want. I have visions of them fighting, crossing their arms at each other and just glaring.

I don't know why, but I feel in my soul that I am meant to be the mother to two living children, and if that doesn't happen, I will again be grieving the loss of a child; a child that never had a physical hold on this world, but definitely has a hold on my heart.

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