Feeling crappy-perspective

Here's a little tidbit. This has been dwelling in my brain and needs OUT.

I got to WATCH one of my babies DIE on camera!

I thought I knew devastation when I watched the tiny little heartbeat of my second miscarried baby flicker and slow live on the ultrasound screen. This was before Nigel. But, yet another February disaster. It was early, I think around 7 weeks. Far enough that I had scheduled our first prenatal, but soon enough that we were simply touring the clinic.  The memory of that stupid dildo cam (transvaginal ultrasound) recording those faint little beat, slower and slower, as the asshat doctor announced that there was no way to stop this miscarriage.  And people said things like I could try again and I railed and screamed "but I wanted THIS baby!" I cried on the couch in the basement and bled my guts out for several days. I don't remember how long. But once again, Heather was there. She is a rock.

And...we did get to try again very soon, and I got pregnant with Nigel in May. And all was as well as could be expected, until he decided to not want to come out.

I resented that c-section so much. UNTIL...

I would have gladly had them cut another person out of me if he had only been alive. But, guess what? If your baby is already dead you get to have a VBAC, even if he is breech. And they will completely back off and let you do whatever the hell you want and won't even touch him until you say it's okay. And they will give you all sorts of lovely medications and even let you take a bubble bath.

So I want to try again. And I might just get to. And I will never know if it is safe. There will be no time when I can coast along and know things will work out. I have no faith, but I have to try.

This weird rambling post brought to you by the fact that someone innocently wrote about researching baby names on their Facebook status. To which my brain replied "oh, but if you name it then you get all attached" and "oh, but if you don't choose a name then you will have a dead person with no name and you will have to grasp at straws."

So my *next* child will either have a name from the moment of conception, or no name at all until it has survived for oh... 5 years or so.