So yeah, as a family we’ve come to the conclusion that Disney’s Aulani in Oahu is prrrrretty much as good as life gets. We’ve spent the week here hiding from the SuperBowl 50 madness that has taken over San Francisco and it was an excellent decision if I do say so myself.
But enough patting myself on the back, that’s not what I’m here for. I’m just here for the reason I’m always here. Whine, whine, fret, overthink. Been doing it in my head for awhile now so I figure I may as well get some use out of this blog and use it for the outlet it was meant to be. This way my friends don’t have to hear it (and the ones who want to know where to find me – here).
Anyway, I saw my nephrologist again last week post kidney ultrasound and fresh labs (which were better but still above my baseline…again). He was still mystified and confused, which is exactly how you want your medical specialist in practice for several decades to feel about you right? No? Okay, yeah no. I told him I was at a loss, which is weird since I know how to read my labs pretty well by now, and he was all, “Wish I knew what to tell you but, me too.” So that wasn’t very helpful but it was kind of reassuring I guess because he was just like, well hopefully it’s a weird flukey thing, and told me just to get my labs repeated again (for the fifth time now). Exact words, “If it goes down to 1.2 then we’ll just chalk it up to a weird blip and move on.”
So the day before we hopped on a plane headed for heaven on earth (aka Hawaii) I got my labs repeated and then I tried to just sort of forget it all. It actually wasn’t that hard to do given the view (see above). I did end up calling on Tuesday just to see if they had my results and guess what? It went down to 1.2. So….
I see my rheumatologist next week (why am I leaving paradise? Whyyyyyy??) and basically this means we have the all clear to start changing my meds and *gulp* TTC.
Here is where things get weird. I should be all “yippee!!!” right? Growing up I always imagined having two kids, P and I always talked about two, more if it weren’t for my stupid crappy body.
But see…here’s the thing…I think with all we went through to have T, the whole NICU thing, almost losing him, and then watching my best friend live that entire nightmare without the happy ending, part of me just let go of the idea of having more. Part of me decided that T was the one I had to have. Before T, I had this feeling like I would fight through anything to get my baby. And I feel like one some level, I’ve lost that fighting spirit. More than before, there is fear instead of fight.
My life is so good. It really is. I feel like the most blessed person in the entire world. I have my wonderful husband, I have my perfect little boy, a supportive family, still employed, I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, heck, I have vacations in paradise. The world can be such an ugly, ugly place, I can’t even stand to watch the news most days anymore (I stick to reading articles about how awesome my Dubs are because yes even my NBA team is just ridiculously, unbelievably good right now – life is THAT good!), I just feel so lucky. And I’m scared that in reaching for more, somehow I could screw up the whole rhythm and balance I feel like I have right now.
Obviously, if we do end up having another healthy baby (God willing), I would never admit this to that baby, but I don’t feel like I need another one. And if I don’t need another one the way I needed T, then is it fair/right/whatever to have another one? I mean, wait, don’t get me wrong, I would LOVE LOVE LOVE another baby. We are here in this place surrounded by ridiculously adorable, chunky little ones and there is definitely a part of me that kinda wants to steal them and snuggle their chub rolls until security comes for me. And there is this huge tug on my heart when I watch all these siblings playing together while T is just playing in the sand by himself all lonely and sad-like (but not really cause he’s a happy kid). So it’s not that I wouldn’t like to have another kid, it’s just not the same visceral, animal-like need that I felt before we had T.
I just…know too much…I know what can go wrong, I know what’s at stake. Also, I’m more afraid for myself this time because I know T needs his mommy so I can’t even just be like “fuck it” like last time where I was like well if I die trying to do this then so be it. I’m not being morbid, just realistic, you know?
And then on a less dark, more normal level, I’m also worried about just the practical stuff. How do we actually raise two kids? I don’t think we can afford the preschool we’re trying to get T into if we have two kids. But the public schools in SF are literally shit, like so shitty that a public school product like me who always thought I’d send my kids to public school just won’t do it (and I know SO many other people who feel this way). So do we move? Do I keep working? I’m not really built to be a SAHM so I assume yes, but if we move out of the city how do I physically deal with the commute, how does it all affect my health? What if another kid doesn’t love sleep as much as T does (and as much as I do!)? What if the stress of it all affects my relationship with P? What if I really suck at being a mom of two kids? Sometimes I feel like I suck at just one, so am I being selfish bringing another human into the world to be raised by ME? I mean, is it even fair to do that to T and the as of yet unconcieved other potential baby?
I mean, I literally yelled at T and called him a chicken two days ago because he wouldn’t go down the water slide with me again. Shall I remind you? He is three and the poor kid just needed a nap. What kind of mom does that? Me, apparently. (Don’t worry, I apologized to him after I went down the slide alone and thought about what a mean horrible mommy I am, luckily he didn’t seem to remember because his dad had gotten him shaved ice, so at least the poor kid has one good parent).
So this is all the stuff I worry about. I worry and worry and worry more. And then my husband is all just like “meh, why worry about this? If we have another one, we’ll figure it out.” And I KNOW he’s right. But my stupid brain just can’t stop with all the worrying. So stupid. This is why I can’t tell people what goes on in my head.
At the end of the day my kid makes me a better person (except when I’m yelling at him for not going down waterslides with me). I’m sure that if I can survive another pregnancy and come out of it with a healthy baby, I’ll be better for that baby too.
Where’s the positive thinking fairy when you need her?