6 years later...it's breaking me.
When Olivia was just about 10 months old is when we started the process back up. We figured we would get a jump start on baby #2. I was nervous and hesitant because of everything we went through with our pregnancy with Olivia, but I knew that Dr. Binor was going to do everything he could to play it safe- and we really wanted another baby.
I couldn't have been more wrong. We faced disappointment after disappointment. Heartbreak after heartbreak.
Olivia turned five last month.
In my head I always give myself a cutoff. I always wanted children close in age. At first I said, when Olivia turns two is when we'll stop. Then two came and went. When Olivia turns 3, that's it. Then three came and went. When Olivia turns 4, for sure that's it. Four came and went.
Now keep in mind, due to other unknown health issues we've had to take a break from IVF- two years to be exact.
Olivia turning five was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. For one, five years old officially closes the chapter to her toddler years. I have a big girl now and that in itself just about kills me. Five is also the year she starts Kindergarten. Holy hell, how did that happen? I just toured preschools, now I'm shopping for school supplies for kindergarten!? Ugh, dagger through my heart!
Five was also the year that we were going to close the door to ever trying again. 5 years is a big age gap. They'll never go to school together. Their interests most likely will never line up. It's just not what we had planned in our heads. On Olivia's birthday I remember looking at her thinking- how is my baby no longer a baby? Why does time move so damn fast!?
Last week was a bad week for me. Just dealing with stress of the unknown has been bringing me down lately. After tucking Olivia in for bed she kept telling me she wasn't tired and that she didn't want to read her books. She told me she wanted to keep talking and asked if I could bring the phone into her room. She doesn't know how to dial the phone, but it made me chuckle wondering who she would have liked to call for a quick chat. Regardless I said no and told her to go to bed. She asked me who she could talk to and I suggested that she say a prayer. She didn't sound amused by my thought and informed me that she always says prayers and that that's boring. I kissed her head, said goodnight and told her I was going to bed. When I closed her door I heard her little voice not sounding so little anymore.
"Hi!"
For a second I thought she was calling me back into her room.
"Can I have a sister?"
My eyes filled up immediately. I wondered how many times she's asked. I wondered how many little prayers she's said on her own, without me knowing. My heart broke for her.
I was talking to a friend the other day whose kids ages are pretty spread out. I told her about my dilemma of knowing when it's time to close that chapter.
"If you could tell yourself that you tried everything and that in 20 years you won't regret not trying one more time then it's time to close that chapter."
I can honestly say that we have tried everything. We've put our whole heart into trying for another baby. Regret is a heavy thing to live with though- and it's not something I am willing to live with.
One more try wouldn't hurt anyone.
