Well some good news today...the siding on the house is fixed. Wasn't too expensive to get fixed but still expensive enough. Thankfully it seems as though we will have it covered which is a huge blessing. Even with a hurt big toe I also managed to run to the post office and mail the financial aid application I've been working on for months to the hospital, now we just continue to play the waiting game and hope they give us some assistance. This is such a bitter/sweet process because I'm glad that we are finally getting it taken care of and on a path to pay that bill with a plan; on the other hand though it is hard because we know that if Katherine had lived our family would definitely qualify for assistance but because she did not and we are still, technically, a family of four, we may not qualify for anything.
Yesterday was a painful day for more than one just the biopsy being done on my toe. I had to fill out the questionnaire at the podiatrists office and on it the paperwork asked how many pregnancies how many births. A part of me just wants to ask why the hell does it even matter? Really, the podiatrist knowing how many pregnancies and births I have had makes a difference in how he treats a foot issue? Well that was just the beginning to my emotional pain at the podiatrist office of all places. So it just "so happened" that the receptionist has the same birth day as I do. She said she had noticed it on my paperwork and asked me how my birthday was this year. I politely responded with "not so good, really terrible actually." She went on to say "MINE TOO!!" she was really a lovely lady but in trying to connect she had know idea the can of worms I was about to open on her...as she was about to tell me how horrible her birthday had been I quietly said "I buried my daughter 4 days before it." and then was the silent "Oh" followed by the "I'm so sorry." and then awkward silence as she realizes my birthday was definitely way worse than hers.
So I made it through the paperwork, and past the receptionist and was now face to face with the doctor's assistant and she goes on and asks the regular questions and of course Katherine's death made it's way into the conversation (not purposely just how things happen at the doctors). She asked how far along I was and I told her full term, went into labor, uterus ruptured, baby died and left it at that. I could tell she felt bad for me. She then shared how her daughter lost her baby at 23weeks but how they went on to adopt and get pregnant again. For whatever reason her rationale went on to explain how here daughter and the babies moved in with her and for 2 months she got no sleep at all and how everyone was saying how much better she looked once the babies were out of the house and she could sleep again. At this point I wasn't really sure what she was trying to do. Why she thought complaining about the sleepless nights ( when I should be having my own with my baby) would comfort me? Like I should be thankful that I at least get to sleep now?
I really don't think this was her intention as she was very sweet and I can usually tell when someone is being sincere and when someone is just be careless. After all of that I finally got to see the podiatrist and was thankful that he did not bring up babies with me...lol.
Side crazy thought (please no judgement)...a part of me wants this biopsy to turn up with something negative....Maybe because if it does then I may see losing Katherine as some part of a bigger picture to save my life and still be here for my kiddos and my family. Because maybe if I was completely sleep deprived I wouldn't have worried so much about a stupid spot under my toe nail and wouldn't have gotten it checked out until it was too late. Does this line of logic then mean I am going to be disappointed if I don't have cancer? In trying to rationalize and make sense of Katherine's death does this mean I will always be searching for something bad to happen so that I will feel like something good will come of Katherine dying?
Today, after resting my toe, I got up to go check on the kids. I opened Zachary's bedroom door just enough to hear him praying; Ellie was standing there too; there little hands folded, eyes closed, and the two of them praying. On the floor in front of them was one of Ellie's baby dolls. I gently asked what they were doing. Zachy said "we're playing, the baby, in the grass" and Ellie said "Yeah, but we don't get to keep her. She is in the grave. At a big grave with other people. Safe in the grass. One day we will see her with Jesus." Zachy throws in "Yes, she with Jesus." I know that playing is one way kids process, in one way it is so good to see them processing. In another way I fear for them, I fear that they will grow up thinking that they won't get to keep any baby that may come into their life. That this experience with Katherine is going to make them fearful of their own possible futures with their own children.
I will admit sometimes the thought of having another baby crosses my mind; only because a part of me is hopeful that the next baby will live and that my kiddos will get to "keep" that child, that there is hope for them to learn that sometimes bad things just happen but that they don't always happen. Yet my own fear and a list of other things will hold me back for the time being of pursuing another baby. One being, I"m not so sure that I want to have another baby. Another pregnancy would be very risky for me. Katherine didn't die from a cord accident, her heart just didn't give out unexpectedly under the pressure of labor. She died because my uterus ruptured. My uterus exploded, she came out of the womb, while I was in labor and she died because what baby can live inside the belly without a womb to protect her. Though my uterus was saved the chances of it happening in another pregnancy is just as great. In this moment of time I don't know if my heart could handle saying goodbye permanently to another child.
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