That Is NOT His Name!

I am so angry today. I was ok, sort of. Ville started 1st grade today! he’s getting so big and it breaks my heart, though I’m so very proud of him. <3 We got home and decided to go for a walk. I swear everyone has freaking babies or is pregnant. I hate it so much. I’m reminded of what I should have. This morning should have been chaotic, getting Ville ready and having an infant who would probably start screaming because he’s just realized he’s hungry as we head out the door. We should have been rushing because he woke up wet and decided to poo after I put a clean diaper on him. We shouldn’t have been calmly leaving for school right on time, but we were. It hit me once we og t home again. I should be wishing I had some free time and passing out in the middle of the day while my baby sleeps. Instead, I barely ever sleep. I should be laying in bed, nursing my son, not desperately clutching his teddy bear just to have something in my arms. It doesn’t make the ache go away, but at least I have something to cling to. God I miss him so much. We went and picked up Ville’s Spider-Man cup and the picture frame I made for one of Liam’s pictures, and I was a little better after that. I got home and checked the mail and found out that the collage I’d ordered of his pictures came in. I was excited, until I opened my other mail. One was information from Medicaid and the other was a Medicaid card, both addressed me. I checked several times because when I opened them, they were both regarding "Troy Clark Jr." I thought there was some kind of mistake, seeing as I had no clue who in the hell that was. I log into their site, since getting in contact with a human being is impossible, and I see the mistake. On the site, the account is listed as "BabyofRhonda…" the number matches the information with the card they sent me. I lost it. I threw the papers across the kitchen, screaming about how I was going down to the office tomorrow. Darryl flew into the room, not yet realizing what had happened. He asked and I just started screaming and crying, "That’s not our baby’s fucking name!" I’d expected to receive something, since I hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to call them and change my information, but I never expected to see someone else’s name on his stuff. I knew the day would come when I would have to take him off the account, but I just couldn’t prepare myself for it. I’m going to go up there tomorrow and tell them that they might want to at least get his name right if they can’t at least get the information from the hospital that we lost him. I can’t even describe how angry I was and still am, thinking back to it. Where the hell did that name even come from? They could have at least given him my name, even if they couldn’t figure out his last name, with his father on all of the fucking paperwork! Ugh! All this led into the discussion about how I do currently have Medicaid and Ville is "supposed" to, yet another Medicaid system fuck up I bet. I told him I didn’t care if I had it or not, since I probably wouldn’t much longer. He took that to mean that I want to die. Believe me, there are days when I don’t want to be here. I would be happy as hell to go home to my babies, but I know that they are ok and that Darryl and Ville need me because they wouldn’t be ok. I was honest about that, and explained that the only reason that I would even want to keep the Medicaid (which would probably be the only reason for them to continue it anyway) would be if I were pregnant and not have actual insurance. Obviously he doesn’t want that to happen, so no worries right now. Not about that anyway. I am worried about how increasingly depressed I seem to be getting. I expect to be depressed over losing my son and about missing him, but I don’t think I should be so depressed over the whole, waiting to get pregnant thing. It feels like I’m not only grieving my child, but future children, like I did when I was struggling to accept that we might never get pregnant. Maybe it’s like a scab being ripped open because Liam was my miracle baby. It took so long to conceive him, maybe I’m just scared I’ll never get another chance. hell, I already only have about half as much of a chance as "normal" women. I only have about 6 cycles a year. Then you add in how completely sporadic my cycles are, sometimes a little over a month, and sometimes 3 months or more. I never know when I’m going to ovulate, which makes it even harder. Maybe I’m scared that waiting means it might never happen. Maybe I just still can’t accept the fact that after five years, my arms are still empty.

No items found.