So I was keeping a secret from the blog. Trying to decide how much to disclose and when. Writing and rewriting posts in my head. I wanted to talk about ambivalence and what goes into making life-changing decisions and then how it feels to have made one. I wanted to talk about plans and hopes and fears and more ambivalence. And I wanted to talk about the future, about just letting go and having faith and moving forward. I still want to talk about those things, but now I have to talk about something else too.

When O was diagnosed in February, I thought that I might be pregnant. Marc and I had been talking about having a baby. Or I had been talking about having a baby. Marc had put in his two cents ("Let's do it!") and then listened patiently while I went through my pro and con lists ad nauseam. I was concerned about Olivia. She is a very hands-on little girl. She is at my side an average of 20 hours out of any day. She wants to be where I am when I am there and wants all of my attention on her. I lay down with her for naps, I lay down to get her to sleep at night, and now I get up several times a night to check her blood sugar. She still prefers to be carried. Just typing that makes me feel tired and I feared that I would not have the energy for another baby now. I know that we could wait awhile, wait until O is a bit older, but I am 36. I don't want to be pregnant at 37 or 38 and then start over with a baby when I have just gotten O out of diapers and fully into her pre-school years. I was also concerned about our resources. We carry some fairly massive debt from Marc's student loans. I didn't want to take on the responsibility of another child if we could not afford it.

But I do want another child and so does Marc. I want to raise siblings and I hope for Olivia to have another close family member who is invested in helping her take care of herself. I know that sounds like I want to have another child just so that she or he can be of assistance to O, but I don't mean that. I just want there to be more people to love and care about each other in our family.

Thankfully, I was not pregnant in February. It could not have been a worse time. But once we got O home and started to get back on our feet as a family in our new world, I started thinking again about a baby. Now in addition to my initial concerns, I felt ashamed at wanting to have another. What if this baby also developed type 1? How could I live with myself? How could I take the chance? How would I explain to that child that I knew he or she was at risk, but I went ahead just because I really wanted another baby? I wound myself around and around with worry. Constant ambivalence. I talked with our nurse practitioner whose husband has type 1 and with whom she has two children. I talked with some other D bloggers (thanks!). Marc and I eventually had genetic counseling through a diabetes research study and were told that any future children of ours were low-risk. We talked more, talked with our families. And finally I just decided to lay all the worry down, relax and see what happened.

And I got pregnant, just like that. We were going to wait to tell people, but I told my mom and Alish and Marc told his family and it just snowballed. I was still nervous, still having cold sweats just thinking about the constant worry that I will have over whether or not this child will be diagnosed. But I was excited, too. And I was excited for O, looking forward to telling her about the baby in Mommy's tummy, looking forward to seeing my two children together.

But something wasn't right. I felt crampy too often. I didn't really feel any other symptoms. I got nervous about the pregnancy. And Sunday morning, I woke up in pain and bleeding. By afternoon, it was over. I had miscarried at seven weeks.

So where am I now? Ambivalent. It wasn't meant to be. Do we try again? Do I leave it alone? I'm still too numb to start making decisions. But I wonder if being back at square one is an opportunity to make a different choice this time.