I've been having flashbacks lately. Flashbacks not to the trauma of Cora's death and birth, but to the trauma of my pregnancy with her. I don't think I can really explain it. There was on day, the worst day, just about 10 weeks along, when I spent almost the entire day laying on the bathroom floor. I was actually throwing up once and hour, though after the first couple of hours all it was was dry heaving. But in between I'd lay on the floor gagging, having stomach spams. I was crying, but I was so dehydrated I didn't really have tears. I truly, deeply, believed that I was going to die, and I remember at one point begging God to just let me die quickly rather that this long, drawn out end.
By the next morning I was throwing up blood, and I called in sick to my job, called the mother of the boy I babysat in the mornings, and told them I was going to the hospital. Matt came home during the hour between morning classes to see how I was, and when I told him I was throwing up blood he went pale.
That moment won't happen again. It didn't happen again. I start anti-nausea medication the moment I get a positive test now. But...that is my fear. I've been feeling lately that it's time to have another baby, but I can't. Right now, I just cannot handle the idea of being so sick again. I look at my two rainbow babies, and the desire for another baby feels selfish when I think of the cost to them.
I hate that every time I think about the short time I had with my beautiful Cora, the trauma is what comes to mind. I did have happy moments, but I have to dig to remember those. I think that's one of the hardest parts of her death. I never got a time with her when I truly felt well and happy. And that just breaks my heart.
I also have so few pictures of me when I was pregnant with her. I never felt photographic because I felt so awful. Looking back at the pictures, it's not true, but that's the way I felt anyway. Here's one, my first trip to Yellowstone. I felt SO sick during all the driving, but I managed to look happy.