I got the news with Blue that BOTH his parents were cystic fibrosis carriers on day 6 and 22 weeks. The next day I went in for an amnio. It was at that point that I started thinking what it would be like to have a child where every time he was sick, every time he coughed even, we would think, "Is this when we lose him?"
As I lay in bed the night before that day in THIS pregnancy, all those terrible thoughts came back. And I was thinking of Blue and my shitty ex and how I didn't hold my baby after he was born. I was turning to Mr. E to tell him I was sad, but he was already turning to me to see what was wrong. I told him what was happening and he said "I know. I know it was that time." He got up with me to eat ice cream and watch TV until we fell asleep on the couch together. He stayed up past 2 and never said a word about it. I write this now and I think some of my tears are in disbelief, and awe, at having a partner like him.
Two days later--amnio day--I was driving across Pennsylvania for six hours by myself, and I was reminded that it is STILL HARD to be alone and not think about Blue. And not feel intense sadness. After the return trip I told myself I am not doing that again.
One day at work last week I had another little break down. Same thoughts. Except this time I also acknowledged how scared I am that I could lose Sprout too. He can't have cystic fibrosis, all the genetic tests are fine, but something random could go wrong. I'm not naive anymore. While my brain is fighting to be rational, telling me that if things went wrong all the time we wouldn't all be here, my heart is trying to prepare me for another dead baby. What if...? Thankfully my brain wins a few arguments here and there. But I wish I wasn't this afraid. Being pregnant and happy is exhausting enough! Sprout gave a few kicks as I was settling down. Sweet boy already, just like his dad.
One week from today will be termination day one, measured in this pregnancy. And after termination day three, everything will be strangely new again. And then Blue's birthday will come on August 10, with the two days prior being hell as well. But what I know so far on this grief journey is that the anticipation of bad days is often worse than the days themselves. Time will tell me. Then I'll tell you.
. . .
In the blahdy-blah boring department: we're moving to a new apartment because the old/current one has mold (and at least one cockroach). Total pain in the ass but in another week that will be all done for at least a year. Upgrades include a gas stove, central air, a second-floor unit with lots of light, and a significant increase in rent. And now we'll be in a