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.
In All Things, Rejoice 
oh yes. I have the same fears- a new baby- “finally we can focus on something happy!” forgetting my first baby, the one that died. the “i told you so”s. I do love your husband for saying you could have another “just for us”, even if it feels like pressure.
I also hold a grudge against people who went away in my grief- those who “gave me space” and “waited until I reached out.” Really? I think it was I was just too hard to be with and they didnt want to deal. you said it perfectly: You don’t leave someone you care about when they’re having a hard time.
When people would or do tell me still, “You can have another baby,” I grit my teeth and clench my fists. Though plenty of doctors have told me I wouldn’t have children in the first place, even if that weren’t the case, the point of being sad for ONE BABY that died is not because I think it is the ONLY BABY I will ever have. It’s because THAT ONE died. That specific one. I’m not going to have that baby again. It’s as ludicrous as telling someone to just trade their 5-year-old for some other 5-year-old. They’re all the same, right?
I have the same fears at times. I think it is totally normal. We will never forgot our children who have passed. They will always be a part of us. I look forward to the day when I can tell our next child about Jackson and how he or she has this amazing big brother who is looking over us everyday. Of course, there will be things that change in our lives when we have another child, but things changed when we had our first child as well. Just take it one day at a time and pray every step of the way. You will know what is right.
I carry the same fears, and there is actually another layer of mourning that ensues when your womb houses someone new. It consists of desire to in no way, shape or form wash over any part of the life of the child lost. Its like you want to somehow insert a spacer into your family make up so everyone always knows “One existed here!” In a way, the pain and the mourning keeps life to Gideon for me and although now a new baby grows where he once did, I have realized for me it is a parallel experience. One not at all taking away from the other. Gideon actually feels closer to me now than he had in months past. I think he knows when his momma needs him close. I love you ladies, and think of you often.