Today I am looking through the pictures from the day Max was born and as I'm sitting here crying all over the computer the phone rings, it's the genetic counselor wanting to book an appointment. I'm trying to compose myself and tell her that we'd like to meet with them and discuss their findings (even thought I'm sure there isn't any new news), but they'll give us an idea of chances of having another child with CDH. She starts telling me how sorry she is for my loss and asking me if I've been doing ok and saying how she knows that anniversaries of certain dates can be difficult and even just getting a phone call about this can be difficult. What are the chances that she calls and wants to talk about this just as I'm bawling all over the place? Seriously!
Anyways, I feel like we failed him as parents. That's what I was thinking, looking at the pictures. Why couldn't he have been healthy? I don't even ask what did I do that caused this because I know that I can't find an answer, but I'm his mom... I was supposed to be able to bring him into this world safely and I was supposed to be able to kiss all his boo boos and make everything ok. I couldn't fix him, nothing I could do could make him better. I'm so sorry baby Max, I'm so sorry mommy couldn't make you better. That is probably the worst feeling a parent could ever have.
Some days it makes me hate the world. Anyone watch Grey's Anatomy? Some days I think I would be like Meredtih Grey if I were to have another baby, absolutely no faith in my own ability to carry and grow a healthy child. I have a hostile uterus.