Decisions

Day 12 prompt here.

I got pregnant and carried my oldest two kids with no problems.  Other than emergency c-sections, everything was just fine.  My husband had applied to and had gotten into Physicians Assistant school with the Army.  We had two years of intense school ahead of us.  And because of that, I decided that I would not get pregnant and have a baby while he was in school.  Towards the end of the second year, We decided that we would get pregnant.  Everything was fine, as far as I knew.  Went to an appointment about 17 weeks, and no heartbeat.  Decided to induce labor, rather than wait for my body to do it.  This crushed me.  Shortly after we moved, and then moved again, and then my husband deployed.  No getting pregnant.  He came home.  We tried again.  Again, got pregnant.  All was well.  My body was contracting for two days and I didn't realize that was what it was.  On the third day, the contractions began to feel like contractions.  I was only 16 weeks along.  My water broke at home, and what followed after was fairly traumatic.  I ended up losing a liter of blood, almost had to have a transfusion, and was a disaster.  As I was coming out of anesthesia after my D&C, Matt said 'We should just adopt!'.  I hadn't even begun to process what had just happened.  I was torn.  These miscarriages were awful.  They were almost halfway.  What was going on? Why was my body doing this?  Should we try again?  Should we just adopt?  My mental health wasn't that great, but I had a fantastic therapist.  I made a deal with God.  Which isn't something you're supposed to do.  I decided I would try again.  Only once more.  And then if I lost that one too, then I was done.  I couldn't go through that nightmare again.  So.  I got pregnant.  As with the previous pregnancy, I was terrified that something would happen.  I didn't tell anyone until I was 5 months.  And now I have a crazy four and a half year old.  Because I didn't have a good track record, as well as getting the worst Postpartum Depression I had had yet, (yay zoloft!) we decided we were done.  It was a difficult decision.  Occasionally I regret it when I discover sharpie on the walls or can't seem to ever not have duplos on the floor.  But mostly I'm glad.