Update

Well, I left this blog on an ominous note and I feel inclined to note that I haven't fallen off the planet, at least.

What has happened since we lost Eva and today is mostly a lot of daily life. We didn't fall apart as much as circumstances might have allowed. In fact, in the early days, I was flooded with this very odd, very deep sense of gratitude for Sam in particular, but for all the other good things in my life. I feel that there's this trick that happens immediately after some losses. Maybe it's grace, maybe it's a neurological response, maybe it's both. But something cushions the blow in the beginning, if you're lucky. Even when you're on your knees sobbing and saying, "I can't do this," there is a moment soon afterward where you think, "We'll be okay." I think it's much harder after the initial crisis when you realize that the shitty thing is still there, only without everyone rallying around you. And the shitty thing shall remain evermore, get used to it.

I now understand what Joan Didion said about magical thinking. I've had so many moments, particularly when visiting the hospital where we were during the pregnancy, where I've had the half-conscious thought that maybe Eva didn't really die or that maybe this new doctor will be able to make things turn out differently. It's hard to even articulate because it's so nonsensical. It evaporates when brought up to the level of words.

Now the grief hits in occasional storms. Not waves, but storms. More storms lately because my due date is this week. When I'm in the storm, I absolutely can not see out of it. I feel desperate. Clawing, screaming, pounding desperate (I save it for when I'm in the car alone. Parked). In those moments, I feel that I am ruined, that Adam and I are ruined, that I must have another child right now because that is the only way I'll ever heal from this. Or, I'll feel that we can never take such a terrifying risk because surely that will destroy whatever good is left. And now we're even more ruined because I'll never stop longing for another child and never stop feeling jealous of every family with more than one and oh my God it is exhausting to be like this. God bless my parents who have gotten two such phone calls from me in recent months. Thank God they're still here to talk me down from the tree. I feel irrational rage toward Adam in these times and I'm glad I at least have the sense to shield him from it.

And when the storms pass, they're just gone. Most days I can feel quite happy. There is a shadow over things maybe. I can see it if I look for it. But most of the time it doesn't distract me.

If we want to have another child, if we want to take that risk, we have three options: use a sperm donor who is Kell negative, do IVF with PGD, or adopt. I suppose we could throw a non-Kell-sensitized surrogate into that mix, but it's not going to happen. I have no idea if we'll try any of them. Adam is so very wary (part of the reason for my rage during the storms). And when I'm not feeling desperate, I tend to agree with him. We got this one beautiful, perfect (within the range of human imperfection) child. We're lucky in many ways and happy on most days. Let's just be grateful for what we have and move on. Think of all the easy traveling we can do! A cozy family of three.

And yet...I think about my life ten, twenty years from now and will I be at peace with it then? Do I want Sam to live his life without a sibling? No answers yet.