Devil's blood

Everybody has been poppin' me the question lately. Well, not THE question, but A question that I dislike more than most. The question "when are you and Jon going to have another one?" gets asked of me literally, not figuratively, on a daily basis. Not only do they ask, these folks tell. "It's your turn." "You're next." "Nicholas is getting older." "You really don't want your children so far apart do you?" While I know that people really mean no harm by the questions and comments, they hurt me more than anyone can know. Truth is, when someone says any of these things to me, I immediately have flashbacks. Eyeballs on fire, tears, pain, agony, fear, and of course lack of sleep, poopy diapers, spit up, drool (oh my the drool). I do my best to be polite.. My rehearsed answer is usually "not right now but maybe in the future". Honestly though, another child scares the shit out of me. (Pardon my language, crap wouldn't be sufficient here) Even some of my closest friends do not know what I went through after Nick's delivery or the severity of it. I had major blood pressure complications. These complications gave my doctor only 1 option. The morning after my precious baby was born, I had to go on a medicine called Magnesium. Take my word for it, this medicine is extracted straight from the blood of the Devil himself. The magnesium was intended to help draw fluid off of me so I didn't die basically; however, dying would have probably been less miserable. My whole body was on fire! I literally thought there were flames coming out of my eyeballs. It hurt to move, to talk, and to be touched. My brand new baby couldn't be left alone with me. I couldn't hold him. I couldn't feed him. I could not enjoy the newness of him because I was miserable. 24 hours of hell, and I still felt awful after coming off of the magnesium.

After leaving the hospital, I was taken back to the doctor to inspect my incision. I had fluid leaking out (tmi sorry). While on the table in the doctors office, they had to re-cut me open on a portion of my incision. No anesthesia. Alone. Fluid poured from my stomach. It hurt. I was embarassed. I wondered what had happened. I was scared because I had no idea what was happening. Turns out I had a seroma. Which is a pocket of fluid that builds up when the outside heals before the inside. The result of this was 6 weeks of hell.. Not feeling well, having an open wound, having to get it packed twice a day, and visiting the doctor's office once sometimes twice a week. The precious moments of my baby's first 2 months of life were over shadowed by my own health problems.

Selfish. It would be selfish of me to choose to have a baby. I want another baby eventually. While no one would come right out and say it, I know that my weight and health problems had something if not everything to do with my complications. I can not knowingly place an unborn child in danger because I'm selfish enough to get pregnant when I am not in good health. Maybe one day, when I'm healthier and more financially stable, my sweet hubby and I will have a serious discussion about whether or not to have a child. When I was 16, I was told that I would have a very hard time getting pregnant, and then Nicholas came to be unexpectedly. I do NOT want to take this sweet miracle God has blessed me with for granted. I must lose weight, get my insulin levels down, and lower my blood pressure before I will even think about having another. This road is NOT easy. I struggle on a daily basis to eat healthy, exercise, and make good choices. Sometimes I slip up, but it's how we bounce back that matters the most! 

Plus, what's the rush? I'm only 26, my female goodness has much life left in it's years.