Uncertainty

It's been a while. I still find myself slipping sometimes. I know I'm not supposed to but I can't help it. It's easier when I'm busy at work. I really tend to forget but when things die down, I start to remember. What's worse, I've started to look for it again. Here I am planning our anniversary trip and suddenly I'm wishing I could get pregnant. I'm counting months and wishing again. I can't help it. I'm still jealous of everyone else. Funny thing is, I literally am jealous of everyone else because everyone else either has a new baby or is expecting one soon.
I actually thought I was over that but I'm not. I'm getting better or I'm just getting better at hiding it. I don't know. I think I really will name my next boy James. He will need to be an usurper. I need someone to calm this swirling emotion inside of me. Not just a temporary fix that I get from work or from going out. I need someone or something more permanent.
I'm just afraid I really won't be contented until I have someone growing inside me again. I'm also afraid that right now I have more expectations. I won't be contented until I have a healthy normal boy again and that's just too hard and too harsh for my next child. How can I put so much pressure into someone whose yet to be conceived?
Maybe all this wishing will just keep me from getting what I want. I know that but I still can't stop it. The months are practically trickling by me. Nothing concrete is happening and I just can't wait anymore.
Frankly, I don't know if I can handle another friend giving birth without being pregnant. It's just so sad.
I know this may be kind of pathetic. Sometimes I think people expect me to recover quickly since I didn't really have my baby for so long. Some of them even give a sigh of relief when they find out I haven't even been able to breastfeed my baby. I think people just forget to count. They equate my baby's death to a miscarriage. A miscarriage is not the same. They didn't give birth. They didn't hold their baby. I still had him for 9 months. Just because he was born doesn't mean the time I was with him resets.
Besides, the fact that we don't really know why this happened still stings me. The fact that I failed and the possibility that I may fail again scares the hell out of me. I wish there was a cure for that too.
In fact I do wish there was a cure for depression. I'm still a functional human being but I know that deep down I still can't be completely happy.
I fool myself sometimes but I know that I'm just fooling myself. Putting layers and layers of bandages on top of my wound just to make it better.
Hopefully I become more successful at this. It's only been 4 months. I don't think you can be called patient if you only wait for four months. Actually I don't think I've been waiting at all. I've been nagging and whining the entire time. I really am not patient.
I'm also ranting. How do I end all of this feelings? The same way I'll end this blog: with uncertainty.

Moving on...

I have mostly good days now. Last Saturday when I visited my son's grave I was actually able to talk to him. I still cried but at least I got a few coherent sentences out instead of just shedding tears. I got to say Goodbye even though my voice broke. To day I'm deleting messages from my cellphone. I should have done this at home. I'm getting teary eyed because I can still read parts of the messages and they started way before everything happened. I'm shaky and well, sad. I need to get this over though. I have to move on and this will help me. If I did this at home, I might not make it.