Should've known this would be tough...

Today I had my first visit to my lady doctor since losing JP.  In fact, the last time I was there, Max was 8 weeks old (I was getting the green light to start Crossfit), and the worst part was that I was leaking milk all over the gown.

I'd already alerted the office about JP's death, and because I wouldn't have to answer a "what's new since your last visit?" or "are you here because you're thinking about baby number two?" question with "my husband died," I didn't really give it much thought.  Until I sat down in the waiting room and saw the other patients: women with their husbands (these are usually the ones with the little bump, either eager to both be involved, or there for the 20-week ultrasound), and women with big bellies getting their glucose tests done, or there for their weekly checkup.  And so when my doctor, who has known me since 2006, who saw me through the frustration of not being able to get pregnant for a year, who helped me breeze through a healthy, wonderful pregnancy, asked "did I read this correctly in your file?" I dissolved into a weepy mess.  I'm not sure if I was able to convince her that I'm actually doing better than I seemed to be, but when she asked if I'm talking to anyone about it, and I said I tried therapy but hated it, so now I blog and Crossfit, she didn't push the issue.

Being in that office, 2 weeks away from 33, reminded me that if JP hadn't been taken from me, right about now is when I would have hoped to coming to the end of my first trimester with baby number two.  Now I worry that by the time I am ready for that again, if I even ever find someone with whom I would want to have a family, it will be too late.  I try not to think about that too often - I mean, I'm not even ready for dating - but it's hard not to think about the baby stuff when I see Max with other kids and want so much for him to have a sibling.

Good thing I only have to go to that office once a year.