I fear having another child.
I am not afraid of experiencing the same thing I went through with Seraphim. Having a child for however short a time we would get with him or her would be enough for us. Even if he or she died too soon, at least we got to know that little one just a tiny bit.
I fear “moving on.” I fear what it means for my relationship with my deceased child if suddenly a currently living child is between us. I fear the things that others will say.
I fear offending those I know who have also lost their babies because I will have a new child.
I’ve already lost the friends I had before Seraphim died, and I fear gaining them back because I have a child who isn’t dead. I fear their comments: “See I told you everything would work out.” “See I told you you’d have other kids.”
Could we just never talk about a new baby? Never tell anyone else? Even my husband has started saying that the new baby will be “just for us.”
I’m sick of hearing the same things from the same people, justify their actions and words for which there is simply no excuse. You don’t leave someone you care about when they’re having a hard time. That’s not “caring.” Telling someone “We did enough for you,” when you never asked or listened to us when we said what we needed is not caring. I don’t want these people to even be in a position where they feel “obligated” to help us out by bringing us meals or whatever. If we just keep everything in our lives to ourselves from now on, no one can get in and hurt us.
I have shut down completely on myself, I have erected tall walls around me, and I rarely go anywhere except work. I don’t spend time with friends because there are none left.
I’m ready for something to change, but I’m not ready to left anyone hurt my bruised soul any more than it already is.