Tuesday, August 08, 2006

He makes me better.

My husband has made me promise not to overuse the Doppler. He is right, you know. There is no reason to Doppler the brains out of this baby. I don't like it, but I shouldn't Doppler 3 times a day just because it is cool and I like to hear the baby. We own the Doppler to ease my mind when it requires easing, not to inundate Babe with ultrasonic waves at every opportunity.

Which is why I am excited for today's prenatal appointment - I get to have my doctor Doppler the baby. And that is good. I have felt little flutters all morning, so have no fears of problems and I get to hear a heartbeat this afternoon.

The nightmares have begun - well, technically they have just intensified. Two nights ago, I dreamt I was miscarrying and woke with a terrible pain in my midsection from really having to pee. Last night was about being incapable to breastfeed. A few weeks ago, I was presenting at ER because I knew that the Babe was going to be stillborn if there wasn't intervention and no one would listen to me.

Fortunately, I have been able (thus far) to shake off said dreams. Of course these dreams are going to dog me - I worry in my waking hours, so what do I expect?

As much as I hate to admit this, I am much better equipped to deal with these worries today that I would have been one year ago. I am not saying that I am glad that conception took a full year, I am just saying that things are possibly a little easier at this time. I would trade off this current peace of mind to have this baby already here and in my arms.

I was also thinking about all the of the emotional/spiritual changes that I have experienced since our son's death. About the people that I have met, the insight that I have gained, the empathy that I have developed, the relationship that has grown between the two of us, etc. These are important and beautiful things, and I cherish them. But if I were ever given the opportunity to change that one important fact - my son died - there would be no moments of thought before I said "do it - let him live". I think that most of the women/men who read here would understand what I am trying to say. I hate it when people tell me that these things were the gifts of my son's death, as though I should be grateful that he died, as though these things give meaning to his death. There is no meaning and I am not grateful. What I am grateful for is that I have managed to find some richness in my life despite the fact that he died, not because he died. And I am grateful for the people who have made that possible.

And, my love, the person who makes me better is you.

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