I feel like I have all these things to say that are so random. So many things on my mind, and no real structure to write them out in. It’s so annoying; I shouldn’t have these types of things on my mind. No one should have to think them. Forgive this post as it is very very random and probably makes no sense. I just need to get it out.

Tomorrow, I go for my baseline ultrasound (the RE checks my uterine lining, checks my blood work, and answer any questions I may need answered). If everything checks out well, we will start our shots (Follistim and Menopur) on Sunday. Stabbing myself with needles does not scare me; what scares me is the simple fact that we are moving on. We’re doing this again.

IVF is intense; it’s a lot to take on without the added grief of losing Kenley. I think starting IVF (had we not lost K) would have been seen as exciting, and given me so much hope. Now, in the after, it just leads to stress, anxiety, guilt, fear and exhaustion. I’m excited at the possibility of having another child, obviously. I’m very lucky to be able to even go through with IVF. I know all of these things. It doesn’t matter; I can’t help the way I feel when thinking of going through it all again.

I could be pregnant very soon. So what does that mean? Oh, Right…vomiting, food aversions, food cravings, more vomiting, pubic bone pain (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction) and a lot of other really uncomfortable things, like peeing every 3 minutes. I get to be pregnant, again, approximately 6 months after giving birth to my dead child. I get to spend 9 months in straight fear of losing this child, if were even lucky enough to get pregnant again. I loved being pregnant with Landon, and I loved it even more with Kenley. Sure, she made me sick up until the day I had her, but I enjoyed every second she spent inside of my body.

There are just so many random things going through my mind. A woman who I follow on WordPress wrote about her son, and his “things”. His physical things; the crib, the clothes, the grave, the ashes. She spoke of them and how it was hard for her to go to his grave; that she just did not find comfort in it. It breaks her down emotionally for days to come after she leaves. I get that; it is exactly why we did not bury Kenley. I couldn’t because I know for a fact that I would be there, every day, crying. I don’t think that I would be able to function. I would feel incredible guilt not going, or when I left.

I don’t know if it’s any better that she was cremated and sits on my dresser. I don’t know…Is there any good way to lay your dead child to rest? Nope, there isn’t. No matter what, you’re always going to feel some sort of guilt, or shame about your choice. Someone commented on her post and I swear it could have been me writing the post. It made me think; I know logically that Kenley is not her ashes. I know that they are just that- her ashes. But it is physically the only thing I have left of her. I think that I cling to them, and feel connected to her when I kiss them goodnight. I have nothing else, what else am I to do?

I printed her picture out and it’s now sitting on my night stand. I looked at it on my phone every night, but taking that step to actually print it out and physically have it took a lot of courage. I cannot tell you why it took me so long to do that; I literally have no idea why. I just couldn’t do it for some reason. Maybe it made it feel too real. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I didn’t want to take on the task of finding a picture frame that was fucking worthy of holding my dead daughters picture.

It’s never just as easy as taking the step; there are 1,000 things to think of before you move your feet. And sadly, it’s going to be that way for a long ass time. I’m sure the things I “need” to do before taking steps will decrese. Maybe one day it will be 500 things,then 200 things, and maybe one day I will just be able to take that step with out all of the other shit in my mind. Maybe one day I will have clairty and be able to make choices without considering ALL the things first.

I hate that I think of IVF and think anything other than “I’m so excited to try and get pregnant again”.

I don’t know that I will ever be “excited” to try again. Maybe one day I will feel that twinge of excitement, but for now I’m fucking terrified.

And I’m allowed to feel that way.

So please don’t tell me I should appreciate the opportunity, or be happy that I have a living child already. Don’t tell me that I need to feel hopeful; or that “life goes on”.

Because I know those things.

I shouldn’t even have to worry about those things.