There is a reason.
It was a blog of an online friend who, after years of infertility, is pregnant. She had her first ultrasound and it showed a beautiful baby. It also showed an empty sac. She was faced with that mix of joy and sadness that comes in those situations and it reminded me of my own.
At six weeks we had our first ultrasound. I thought it was twins. I knew there were more than one, but who thinks, "I bet I'm having triplets"? So we had our ultrasound and the RE showed us each of our babies. Baby C was two weeks smaller than the other two so he recommended we didn't talk too much about there being three. His caution was for naught, but that is actually another post.
There was never any mention of another baby. Until about 10 weeks when we moved back to the OB. At the first ultrasound, he was pointing out the babies and sacs and whatnots and then mentions, "there's the fourth sac being reabsorbed."
First thought: What? What fourth sac?
Second thought: Thank G-d there isn't a fourth.
Third thought: Oh my G-d I can't believe I even thought that.
I mean, here I was. A woman who had done everything I could to have a baby. I prayed. I got myself healthy. I took drugs. I went through some of the most embarrassing medical exams a woman could. There was even a third person in the room when my children were conceived via a catheter. I spent thousands of dollars and years getting there. I even gave myself shots. And there was no reason to believe that any future conceptions would be any different. And yet I was thanking G-d that my baby hadn't even gotten to 10 weeks. How ungrateful could I be?
And yet, almost three years on, I can honestly say it was for the best. As I sit here writing this, Chaya is whining. (She's still teething.) Shira is taking her sister's smoothies and figuring out which one should go to which sister. Batya is "helping" in the kitchen and trying to wash dishes. I'm exhausted from late nights and toddlers who are being toddlers. We won't even mention the bird food. I find my patience being stretched with three. How would I deal with a fourth toddler? Could I deal with a fourth toddler?
Every so often I find myself wondering how would things have been different? How would I do everything I do now? Would I be happy? I also find myself wondering if that fourth baby was my little boy. Or another little girl? A blondie like Batya? Brown-eyed like Shira? A dancer like Chaya? Would that baby love the Grouchy Caterpillar or prefer Snuggle Puppy?
So really, those four words aren't that bad. But I still can't bring myself to say them.
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