I Last Posted A Year Ago Tonight

I reread the entire blog, short-lived, like my pregnancy…after weeks of trying to figure out what to do, I’d decided to wait until after the genetic testing was done to make a decision about an abortion. I didn’t make it that far. On February 10th, I miscarried. It honestly broke my heart.

I still don’t know that I could have continued the pregnancy if I’d found out that the baby was going to be born ill or with genetic defects…

Almost a year later I wonder what my child would have been like, a boy or a girl? Out-going or shy?

I went through months of debating with myself if having the miscarriage is what triggered an intense desire to have another baby, or whether it was only hormones? What I do know was that I was SEVERLY depressed for six months and I only now feel like I am thinking like I did before my pregnancy.

Talking About It

R came over, and sensing my mood, decided we should talk about the baby. More specifically, the reasons behind why I’m feeling so terrified. I pointed to the statistics, which aren’t good. The odds of a woman my age having a child with genetic defects is one in thirty-five. Then there are the genetic tests themselves which can cause miscarriage (one in thirty chance).

I also talked about the blogs and websites of pregnant women my age who seem to be rampantly bitter. That almost made me laugh because I could assume that this blog is seen as a pretty dark cloud in the world of blogs.

So, what’s the answer, I asked? You want me to not do research when we agreed that I should be well-informed about the decision I’m going to have to make (meaning am I going to have an abortion?) “Yes. I want you to stop going to negative baby sites.” He then joked about getting a parental control for the computer to block my searches before asking me on a more serious note, “If we have all the genetic testing done and this baby is fine, are you going to want to have an abortion just because you are going to be the oldest mom at soccer practice?” (He’s a pretty smart guy btw because after knowing me as short a time as we’ve known each other, he thinks like I do.) My answer was, “No.” Emphatically. Without a doubt. “If this baby is healthy–WE are having a baby. Can you get excited about that?”

“I light a candle every day with the prayer that this baby will be healthy.” He said and in that moment I wondered why I’ve been so worried. Yes, I’m still terrified that something will be wrong with this baby, and if something were terribly wrong that would still make me want to abort, I would be very sad…but at this moment, I want to be as positive as he is. I want to believe that everything is going to be alright because he believes everything is going to be alright.

Today, I’m lighting my own candle.

Baby Names

If you’re following this post …you will assume I am schizophrenic …and at this point I would agree. I want this baby but I may be having an abortion so I don’t talk to my fiance about the baby. I want this baby so much that I went to a baby name site this morning …and cried over the child that may not come to be …and deciding even if I have an abortion this baby will have a name.

Liam is the only boy name I liked.

As far as girl names …I couldn’t come up with any.

Still Not Talking About It

R came over tonight and we did normal things. We went to a movie, talked about the house we’re buying, there was a brief mention of our upcoming wedding date and honeymoon … Yes, we’re excited about moving into the new house, starting a life together, going to sleep in the same bed, waking up together …we will have a wonderful life together.

We didn’t mention baby. I did talk some about the symptoms …my boobs hurt…not a little, a lot …enough to take Tylenol and I never take anything. I told him he really didn’t want to know about the gross and disgusting things my body is going through. I don’t even want to know about the gross and disgusting and it’s happening to  me. I feel a little bit like Alice in Wonderland, having fallen down the rabbit hole. I am marrying a man I’ve known only a few months and I don’t know him well enough to divulge pissing a little when I cough, the fact that I have birthed three babies and never had even a single symptom of hemrroids but now, I can’t seem to go into the bathroom wth noticing I’m bleeding a little and it’s because I’m so freaking constipated, or that every time I brush my teeth my gums bleed, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot…

Yeah, it’s all disgusting …and not something I’m even remotely prepared to share.

I want to share this pregnancy with him, but for now, I can’t. I can’t talk about a baby that I’m not certain I’m going to have. I can’t even hint at how excited I might be getting because then he might break down and tell me he’s excited and then how would I ever be able to have an abortion if I decide I must. So, laying side by side, talking about other things, everything except the baby thing, his hand drifted over my still flat stomach and I knew he was thinking about the baby growing inside of me.

What Am I Thinking?

I picked up my teen at school today. I parked on the curb behind a van I assumed was also waiting for their child to come out and noticed their bumper sticker. It said, “My kid has more chromosomes than yours.”

My world tilted in that moment because I knew who was parked in front of me. It was Kaylee’s mom and Kaylee has Down Syndrom. I love Kaylee, she’s a beautiful girl, always so happy…so intuitive. It wasn’t her Down’s Syndrom or the thought that my child might have genetic defects because of my age …it was the thought that I see her mom as an old woman that tilted my world and sent me into panic mode.

I don’t know her age and I don’t want to … all I know was that in that moment I did  the quick math. If I am 44 when my baby is born, by the time she is my daughter’s age, I will be sixty. when I am picking up my child at shool, I will be the one the other’s see as old. My god, what am I thinking? I haven’t stopped crying since.

What am I going to do?

The question remains, should I have this baby?

I told R not to come over and see me again tonight. It’s been days but I can’t face him. I know in my heart that even though he hasn’t said it that he really wants this baby. I managed to ask him how he would feel, if I decided to not have this baby and he reassured me that it is my decision but how can it be solely my decision? My gut is wrenching. I’m a mess. I can’t imagine life with a baby … and now that I know I’m pregnant, I can’t imagine my life without this baby, because I think about the three daughters I have and I cannot imagine life without them and in another year, I will feel the same way about this new baby … if I can get to a year from now.

I made R sad while we talked and he thought he was saying all the wrong things but it wasn’t that. I couldn’t stop crying because I was surfing the web, trying to remember what it was like to have a baby in the house, so that I would know if I am excited about this pregnancy or not. I pulled up Maya Wraps, picked out the color of the one I want. I found leg warmers and found myself honestly wondering if I would be buying boy colors or girl colors. Then that led to the question that has came about each and every baby before, cloth or disposable? By then, I’m sobbing and R feels worse because he has no idea that I am looking at baby stuff and trying to work out the details in my head. He has no idea how much I really do want this baby …or that I am so terrified of wanting this baby.

I regretted having him stay away tonight.

I wish I had someone to talk to.

Can I do This Again?

I want this baby, even though I’m too old to be having a baby. Yes, I know it’s going to totally disrupt my life. I think almost every day how thankful I am that my children are grown (or at least very self-sufficient in the case of my teen at home) and that I am regaining freedoms long done without. I like staying out too late, drinking too much, sleeping until noon. I like spending a large portions of my income on non-necessities and cannot even imagine diverting my fun money back into diapers and formula. I really cannot imagine walking the floor all night with a feverish baby…

Then I think of the way it used to be…when I had a toddler that followed me everywhere and even going to the bathroom was no longer a solo event. I remember the tears because I just wanted left alone…if just for five minutes…and I wonder if I will be as selfish this time around.

I wasn’t patient last time.

Hell, I have no patience with my granddaughters …I want them to hurry up and learn to talk in full sentences so that I can communicate fully with them. Although, I’m constantly telling my oldest how lucky she is because I was so impatient. She talked and walked early, probably too early, because I pushed her. She was reading words by the time she was four and the classics by the time she was nine. We had intelligent conversations by the time she was nine as well …and she could consider major world issues before she was even a teen and articulate an informed opinion. I watch her now, pushing her own daughters …and I realize I may not have had her patience, but I did raise an incredible human being that I am so proud of. I raised a good adult.

The question is, can I do it again?

A Doctor’s Appointment Scheduled

Oh my god, who would think that there would be a waiting list to get into the OB/GYN?

Three weeks!

I couldn’t get an appointment until February 8th which means I will be at least ten weeks pregnant. Which, really, I don’t think they can do genetic testing before ten weeks anyway and that is the point for going …but three weeks?! I am going to go insane in that amount of time. I am trying so hard to not think about what is going on in my uterus as a baby being created, because since seeing the picture of the six week old fetus, it’s getting harder and harder to not think about a baby being inside me …again, i wish I was younger. I wish I could be guaranteed that I was having a healthy baby but the odds aren’t in my favor. As a matter of fact, I have a one in thirty chance of having a very sick baby and that scares the hell out of me.

Reality Sets In

I spent the night with R last night. We didn’t talk too much about the pregnancy, just deciding that I need to make a doctors appointment as soon as I can. I wish I was twenty again, or even mid-twenty …I could be excited about this pregnancy then, but the reality is that I am old. I am forty-three years old with two grown and one almost grown daughters …and two granddaughters.

He made me breakfast and while he cooked omelets, I searched the web for anything that would help me clarify my thoughts because I still don’t know how I feel about this …

I went to a site that had a due-date calculator on it … and made the mistake of putting in the date I believe I conceived …placing me at about six weeks pregnant …with a link to photos. Not photos of a lump of cells, but photos of a fetus with webbed fingers and toes, eyes, internal organs…

R brought me breakfast and found me crying because no matter how firm I am in my decision to not continue the pregnancy if this baby is unhealthy …I don’t know that I can do it. How do you kill a baby?

Reactions To The News

Oh hell, I told him over the phone …in a moment of fear and frustration …not at all the way I’d rehearsed in my head.

The sound he exhaled said more than any words could. It would take a while for the news to soak in, for the shock to wear off, but his immediate reaction wasn’t devastation, it wasn’t anger or pain …it sounded more like hope (but maybe it was just my own mind wanting it to be so.)

In the end, we agreed, the final decision will be mine …but that no decision will be made until genetic testing can be done because one thing is certain, as uncertain as I am about this pregnancy, I am very certain that I cannot raise an unhealthy baby. That sounds so selfish, so cold when I consider the implications …but I also have to be realistic. I know my limitations. I don’t want to abort but I can’t bring a child into this world who will be unable to be a functioning adult someday and I will not place the burden on my three grown daughters to take on the responsibility of a severely handicapped sibling after I’m gone.

Speaking of my daughters, I have no idea when or how to tell them. They are twenty-three, twenty-one, and fifteen. It has only been a few weeks since I told them I was marrying this man I barely know and they are still reacting to that news, each in their own way …though I seem to have the support of two out of three of them (and knowing their personalities as well as I do, that isn’t so bad.) But this news …this will have to wait until I know how I’m feeling …I have to be more certain that this baby is going to be born …and right now, I don’t have a clue. I just don’t know how I feel about this.

Tough Decisions

The only thought on my brain since finding out has been whether to share the news with the father of this baby, or keep it all to myself and make any important decisions…alone.

Then I think about the decision itself. Am I going to have this baby? Or the alternative, am I going to abort this baby?

I’ve always been Pro-Choice, but then it’s so easy to be pro-choice when it isn’t my body, my baby, my moral delimma. I sit and cry because the decision is too much to bear alone. I may be unsure about how I feel about being pregnant, about having a baby at forty-four years old (because I will be forty-four by the time this child is born,) but one thing I am absolutely sure about is that the decision to abort this baby will scar my soul and mark my psyche in a way I’m unwilling to consider. Leaving my only option to tell the father because at some point it does become his decision as well.

So, how do I tell the man I barely know that I am disruptting the marvelous, insanely fast paced romance that has only been in progress two months? It hardly matters that he wants to marry me … to spend the rest of his life with me.

I remember only the words he said when we talked those first sweet moments on the phone … pre-dating, pre-relationship: “I don’t have any children, I don’t want any.”

The bigger fear, even bigger than the news that I am pregnant becomes, what if he doesn’t want this baby? What if he insists on an abortion? What if I say no? Can I do this again …alone?

The question now is not, do I want to raise a baby at forty-four years old? But, do I want to raise a baby at forty-four …alone?