I met a (pretty young) woman the other day who's pregnant with her sixth child. Six. How can some women just keep popping out babies like it's nothing? I get pretty jealous. I'd love to have six kids. But I'm pretty sure having more than one, maybe two, more is pretty much impossible.
I think we've ruled out adoption, for now. It might be in our future still, but for this next time around, I think we're trying the old-fashioned way one more time. We've fasted, we've prayed, I got my Patriarchal blessing, we've seen multiple specialists down at the University of Utah, and I've read more studies, articles, and forums online than I probably did my entire college career.
We know we're just about guaranteed to have one (most likely quite a few) miscarriages. One part of me wants to say that I hope they're early miscarriages, because losing another baby further along would be so so hard, and because putting my body through more c-sections gets riskier every time. But the other part doesn't totally mean that, because the little time I had with Brooklyn was so very precious. It's just about all I have. Though I'd imagine losing her was much harder than an early miscarriage would be, I'm still grateful she didn't leave me earlier. An earlier miscarriage would be hard because I wouldn't get time to know the little life growing inside of me.
Anyway, we know we have a hard road ahead of us still. We don't know when exactly we'll be beginning on that road yet. I know I need to be responsible and let my body heal from this c-section so that we don't have even more risks posed to us. We're scared but we have faith, somehow.