Baby looked perfect. Feisty, big and healthy. The tech again spent the whole time chasing the baby and laughing because there was so much movement it was hard to get good measurements. I spent a few minutes quietly freaking out because I thought there was way too little amniotic fluid and she wasn't telling me. It wasn't until after the appointment that I remembered I had hydroamnios with Aiden because he couldn't swallow and process amniotic fluid. It underscored again how very different this pregnancy is.
Oh, by the way, the little dragon is a girl.
I have a confession to make. I'm disappointed with the gender. Don't think for a second that I don't want this baby, but in my deepest heart I think I was trying to replace Aiden. I know children aren't interchangeable. I can't really untangle all the feelings I have about this pregnancy but I'll try to explain.
I'm not good at explaining this so please don't be offended if you have a special needs child (or just don't read this). These are my thoughts and feelings about my pregnancy that failed, not about sick children in general.
Part of what really screwed me up when Aiden died is that I didn't ever mourn the son I had. I mourned the son who never really existed because I had this picture in my head of a healthy infant who would have eventually walked and talked and joined in our daily lives. I never imagined a shell of a child that may have lived for hours, days, or years, but never would have done any of the things that children do. I still think that if I had any way of knowing he wouldn't have been in pain, I would have done things differently, but I still wouldn't have lived the image in my head. It's really that image that I mourned, and that image I still clung to before I knew the gender of my little miracle. I hoped I still had a chance of making that dream come true and now I never will. I think this sadness is just continued mourning for the lost possibilities, not really disappointment.
I suppose I wasn't really trying to replace Aiden, just the dreams I had when I was pregnant with him. That thought makes me squirm inside because it feels too much like apathy towards the little life I held so briefly. I have forgotten much of that last pregnancy, out of a twisted kind of self-preservation. The good parts hurt too much to remember and the bad parts were so LOUD. Now I am left with what feels like a really awful dream and the fading feeling of being the mom of a little boy. He feels less real now and I hate that.
I don't know if this makes much sense. Maybe when I've had a little time to process this news I will feel different and be happier. Right now I just wish I had a healthy 2 year old running me ragged and driving his sisters nuts.
This fucking sucks. I haven't hurt like this in over a year and I should be happy.