Saturday, April 23, 2011
Yesterday was six weeks. Six weeks since I held my son, six weeks since I kissed his little cheeks goodbye. Appropriately it was also my six week checkup. The visit where I should have taken my little boy to show off to all the nurses and my doctor. Instead we talked about how much harder it is to lose baby weight without breastfeeding. We talked about autopsy reports and chromosomal analyses. We looked at my scar and commented how quickly and easily I heal. Nonetheless, my doctor told me she'd like me to wait six months before trying to conceive so there would be enough time between c-sections. She told me to come back when needed. I asked if there was anything we should do before trying to conceive. She laughed and told me that I know the drill. It somehow felt incomplete, like I'm a special situation and should be doing something different than everyone else in the world who is trying to have a baby. Funny that it should be put so simply, just get pregnant and give me a call. Sadly that is all we can really do. Get pregnant and hope for the best. We've lived through the worst, the best and the worst again. I say this time we've earned the best but we'll have to wait and see.