u/Interesting_Bass6063

TW: LC

It has been 7 months since surgery and MTX on my interstitial ectopic. I’m so fortunate that it was caught before rupture and my doctor (some stranger who saved my life while my LC and I were on vacation) managed to save my tube and uterine corner.

I live a good life. I’ve got money, education, a good marriage, and two healthy children. So why can’t I move on?

I know this is stupid, but my husband booked a tour to Katmai National Park for my due date to distract me and look at bears. In a super rare circumstance, zero bears showed up for tour groups, guides, or rangers. I wanted to get out of my depression and live a special moment for my baby on her due date and can’t even manage that.

Plus I happen to be ovulating and was going to try again, but I’m too depressed to do the BD right now.

I’m in therapy. I’ve been avoiding meds to try to have the healthiest next pregnancy possible. Don’t know what to do.

**TW: living children**

Long-time reader, first-time poster

I’m not really sure what I’m looking for by posting this. Maybe I just need somewhere to put all of this where people will understand.

My husband and I always wanted four children. We are incredibly fortunate to be high earners in tech with advanced degrees, so financially, having a big family is something we can comfortably provide for. But lately I’ve been wondering whether I have the *emotional* means anymore.

I have two living children. I adore them. They are my entire world.

And I also have two pregnancy losses: one chemical pregnancy, followed by my two successful pregnancies, and then my ectopic.
My ectopic was horrific.

It happened while we were on vacation, and it was diagnosed relatively late. It was an interstitial ectopic with a heartbeat. I ended up needing surgery, followed by methotrexate because surgery alone wasn’t enough to make me medically safe.

There is something uniquely awful about knowing there is a heartbeat while simultaneously being told that the pregnancy cannot continue and that it is putting your own life at risk.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to completely explain what that did to me.

And the aftermath was almost as difficult emotionally. I didn’t feel particularly supported by some of my extended family. When I was struggling with the loss, I heard things along the lines of, *“You should just be grateful you have two children.”*

And I AM grateful.

I am profoundly grateful for my children.

But I didn’t realize that being depressed about losing a baby meant I wasn’t grateful for the children I already had.

The truth is, I wanted a big family. I wasn’t done.
I wasn’t done with babies.

I wasn’t done with toddlers and little kids and the chaos and the cuddles and the ridiculousness of having a house full of tiny people.

I wanted to be parenting this stage of life for a long time. I wanted three or four babies. I wanted to stretch out this amazing period of my life where my children are little.

And it’s already going so fucking fast.

My firstborn is going to kindergarten.

My youngest is getting bigger.

And instead of feeling excited about watching them grow, part of me is grieving that this chapter might be ending much sooner than I ever wanted it to.

The timing is making everything so much worse.
My due date for the baby I lost is **right now**.

At the exact same time I’m sending my firstborn off to kindergarten.

So I’m simultaneously watching one of my babies take this huge step toward growing up while thinking about the baby who should have been arriving around now.

It’s brutal.

After the ectopic, my doctor didn’t want me traveling while trying to conceive again because of the risk of another ectopic and the need for early monitoring.

That was extremely difficult because I travel a lot for work.

So we waited.

Six months.

Six months of wanting another baby, being afraid of another pregnancy, trying to figure out how to make the logistics work, and essentially putting this part of our lives on hold.

And now we’ve finally started trying again.
We tried over the last few days.

And instead of feeling happy and hopeful, I’m just… depressed.

Like, **really depressed.**

My mental health is garbage right now.

I lose it over every little setback. Every small disappointment feels enormous. I’m constantly bracing for something else to go wrong. I feel numb one minute and completely overwhelmed the next.

And honestly, I’m starting to wonder if I should stop trying altogether.

Part of me thinks maybe I should just accept that our family is complete, get serious about treating my mental health, get on medication if I need it, and learn to be happy with my two children.

Maybe I need to let go of the family I always imagined having.

Maybe I need to accept that I wanted four children, but life gave me two, and that’s enough.
But then there’s this other part of me that desperately wants to keep going.

Because what if a rainbow baby is what finally gives me some closure?

What if I get to have another healthy pregnancy and bring another baby home, and it doesn’t erase what happened, but it gives all of this grief somewhere else to go?

What if I stop now and spend the rest of my life wondering if I should have tried one more time?
I genuinely don’t know which choice is kinder to myself.

I’m in therapy. I have SSRIs in my back pocket if I need them, although I really, really don’t want to take them if I can avoid it. They have caused pretty extreme side effects for me with sleep and sex in the past, and I also strongly prefer to be medication-free during pregnancy. I know some medications are considered safe during pregnancy, but personally, I’d rather avoid them if possible.

But I also recognize that I can’t white-knuckle my way through another pregnancy if I’m already falling apart before I’ve even gotten a positive test.

And because apparently I make questionable decisions when I’m emotional: I decided to start trying while we’re on a family trip, AMA. But I’m in a place with colleagues in medicine that I trust so I decided to try on vacation anyway.

Which means I won’t even know if I’m pregnant before we get home.

Part of me likes that because I don’t have to spend the entire trip obsessing over a pregnancy test.

Another part of me is thinking, *what the hell am I doing?*

I’m scared.
I’m sad.
I’m angry.
I’m bitter.
I’m exhausted.
I’m having very dark thoughts.

And underneath all of that, I still really, really want another baby.

I want to be happy about trying again.

I want to feel hopeful.

I want to believe that maybe this time I’ll get to bring a baby home.

But right now I feel like a woman who has run out of emotional capacity for the life she always dreamed about.

And I don’t know whether I should keep pushing forward toward that dream or finally accept that pursuing it is destroying me.

I know I am extraordinarily lucky to have two healthy children.

I know that.

I also know that loving my children and grieving the children I lost can coexist.

I’m just not sure how to reconcile being incredibly grateful for what I have with being completely heartbroken over what I don’t.

So I guess I’m asking other people who have been here:

**How do you know when you’re grieving versus when you’re hurting yourself by continuing to try?**

And if you eventually had a rainbow baby, did it actually bring you some sense of closure, or did the anxiety and grief follow you into that pregnancy too?

And did you take meds to help? Should I start meds? Even if they’ll interfere with my ability to conceive, which is what we are trying for?

Thanks for listening and sharing thoughts.

TW: living children

Long-time reader, first-time poster

I’m not really sure what I’m looking for by posting this. Maybe I just need somewhere to put all of this where people will understand.

My husband and I always wanted four children. We are incredibly fortunate to be high earners in tech with advanced degrees, so financially, having a big family is something we can comfortably provide for. But lately I’ve been wondering whether I have the emotional means anymore.

I have two living children. I adore them. They are my entire world.

And I also have two pregnancy losses: one chemical pregnancy, followed by my two successful pregnancies, and then my ectopic.
My ectopic was horrific.

It happened while we were on vacation, and it was diagnosed relatively late. It was an interstitial ectopic with a heartbeat. I ended up needing surgery, followed by methotrexate because surgery alone wasn’t enough to make me medically safe.

There is something uniquely awful about knowing there is a heartbeat while simultaneously being told that the pregnancy cannot continue and that it is putting your own life at risk.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to completely explain what that did to me.

And the aftermath was almost as difficult emotionally. I didn’t feel particularly supported by some of my extended family. When I was struggling with the loss, I heard things along the lines of, “You should just be grateful you have two children.”

And I AM grateful.

I am profoundly grateful for my children.

But I didn’t realize that being depressed about losing a baby meant I wasn’t grateful for the children I already had.

The truth is, I wanted a big family. I wasn’t done.
I wasn’t done with babies.

I wasn’t done with toddlers and little kids and the chaos and the cuddles and the ridiculousness of having a house full of tiny people.

I wanted to be parenting this stage of life for a long time. I wanted three or four babies. I wanted to stretch out this amazing period of my life where my children are little.

And it’s already going so fucking fast.

My firstborn is going to kindergarten.

My youngest is getting bigger.

And instead of feeling excited about watching them grow, part of me is grieving that this chapter might be ending much sooner than I ever wanted it to.

The timing is making everything so much worse.
My due date for the baby I lost is right now.

At the exact same time I’m sending my firstborn off to kindergarten.

So I’m simultaneously watching one of my babies take this huge step toward growing up while thinking about the baby who should have been arriving around now.

It’s brutal.

After the ectopic, my doctor didn’t want me traveling while trying to conceive again because of the risk of another ectopic and the need for early monitoring.

That was extremely difficult because I travel a lot for work.

So we waited.

Six months.

Six months of wanting another baby, being afraid of another pregnancy, trying to figure out how to make the logistics work, and essentially putting this part of our lives on hold.

And now we’ve finally started trying again.
We tried over the last few days.

And instead of feeling happy and hopeful, I’m just… depressed.

Like, really depressed.

My mental health is garbage right now.

I lose it over every little setback. Every small disappointment feels enormous. I’m constantly bracing for something else to go wrong. I feel numb one minute and completely overwhelmed the next.

And honestly, I’m starting to wonder if I should stop trying altogether.

Part of me thinks maybe I should just accept that our family is complete, get serious about treating my mental health, get on medication if I need it, and learn to be happy with my two children.

Maybe I need to let go of the family I always imagined having.

Maybe I need to accept that I wanted four children, but life gave me two, and that’s enough.
But then there’s this other part of me that desperately wants to keep going.

Because what if a rainbow baby is what finally gives me some closure?

What if I get to have another healthy pregnancy and bring another baby home, and it doesn’t erase what happened, but it gives all of this grief somewhere else to go?

What if I stop now and spend the rest of my life wondering if I should have tried one more time?
I genuinely don’t know which choice is kinder to myself.

I’m in therapy. I have SSRIs in my back pocket if I need them, although I really, really don’t want to take them if I can avoid it. They have caused pretty extreme side effects for me with sleep and sex in the past, and I also strongly prefer to be medication-free during pregnancy. I know some medications are considered safe during pregnancy, but personally, I’d rather avoid them if possible.

But I also recognize that I can’t white-knuckle my way through another pregnancy if I’m already falling apart before I’ve even gotten a positive test.

And because apparently I make questionable decisions when I’m emotional: I decided to start trying while we’re on a family trip, AMA. But I’m in a place with colleagues in medicine that I trust so I decided to try on vacation anyway.

Which means I won’t even know if I’m pregnant before we get home.

Part of me likes that because I don’t have to spend the entire trip obsessing over a pregnancy test.

Another part of me is thinking, what the hell am I doing?

I’m scared.
I’m sad.
I’m angry.
I’m bitter.
I’m exhausted.
I’m having very dark thoughts.

And underneath all of that, I still really, really want another baby.

I want to be happy about trying again.

I want to feel hopeful.

I want to believe that maybe this time I’ll get to bring a baby home.

But right now I feel like a woman who has run out of emotional capacity for the life she always dreamed about.

And I don’t know whether I should keep pushing forward toward that dream or finally accept that pursuing it is destroying me.

I know I am extraordinarily lucky to have two healthy children.

I know that.

I also know that loving my children and grieving the children I lost can coexist.

I’m just not sure how to reconcile being incredibly grateful for what I have with being completely heartbroken over what I don’t.

So I guess I’m asking other people who have been here:

How do you know when you’re grieving versus when you’re hurting yourself by continuing to try?

And if you eventually had a rainbow baby, did it actually bring you some sense of closure, or did the anxiety and grief follow you into that pregnancy too?

And did you take meds to help? Should I start meds? Even if they’ll interfere with my ability to conceive, which is what we are trying for?

Thanks for listening and sharing thoughts.

[ Removed by Reddit on account of violating the content policy. ]

Hi All,

We've had our house manager for four years and she's been with us through a lot of life changes. New jobs, new babies, health problems, miscarriage, and more. She's always been excellent, and really stepped up when we were going through a transition. We don't have local family and we travel a lot for work, so she's done emergency 24 hour shifts and travels everywhere with us. When we travel, she has a work credit card and separate bedroom/bathroom from us, and we schedule breaks for her where grandparents visit and she doesn't have to work, which is separate from her vacation time. She's paid in the top 15% for our area, because we really value what she brings to our family. She works 3 days per week for us as a nanny, has one day to run errands, clean and do laundry for us, and one day off. It has been a great arrangement.

Lately she really seems to be slipping. She's having problems at home, and she's bringing her attitude to work. She's harder on the kids than normal, interrupts me when I'm talking to them, gives them way more screen time than we are okay with, and is feeding them too much junk food. More context below.

We've previously asked that they get very limited screen time on rainy days or sick days, but lately, she gives DC2 over an hour every day, and some days it has been 3 hours. I know that's not a lot overall, but it isn't in line with our parenting style. We do less than an hour per week because we save screen time for flights and car rides (we fly a LOT). We also have one TV in the house, but instead, nanny provides kid her phone. I've explicitly asked that nanny not give DC2 the phone because DC2 gets scary movie adds on nanny's phone and then doesn't sleep.

We provide a lot of very health focused fruits, veggies, and crackers at home. Nanny has repeatedly been taking the kids to events where they are fed junk food, which is fine sometimes, but DC2 was given so much junk food last week that DC2 got sick. Then they've been "stocking up" on junk foods and bring them home. I'm fine with the kids having treats, but not to the point of getting sick.

Nanny has a credit card to use for lunches when she and kids are out, but we also provide meals at home that are ready made for nanny. I've noticed lately that she hasn't been enjoying the ready made meals, which is totally fine, because I won't police what she eats. That's why she has a card. But I've noticed that she puts lunch on the credit card and then takes a ready made meal home for dinner. It is a small nit, but it feels a little like I'm being taken advantage of when we already provide all meals at work that now she's also taking food home with her. I can afford it, so I haven't made a fuss, but it just feels a little dishonest.

Then when I'm correcting either kid, nanny has been stepping in to interrupt me and offer her own corrections. When I'm home and "on" with the kids, I expect them to follow my rules.

The other thing is that one day per week we try to schedule an "early out" for nanny. Lately, she's been scheduling other babysitting events on early outs, which I'm okay with if we pre-discussed. But one day she walked to my office and said, "I was planning to get out early today to do X, so I'm leaving now." Spouse and I had to cancel afternoon meetings. The early-outs are a gift, not guaranteed.

The last thing is the biggest one. My partner and I forgot to install our DC1's car seat after a trip to the grandparents. Rather than waiting for us to get get out of meetings (WFH) and install the carseat ourselves, she self-installed. After getting home from being out with kids, she asked us to check and it was installed completely incorrectly, kid was not safe at all. This is an enormous sticking point for me, and I almost fired her on the spot but held me tongue.

I don't know if I'm looking for advice or if I'm just venting. I've had chemo, surgery, a life-threatening miscarriage, and almost lost two extended family members in an accident just in the last 6 months, so I know that I am a grumpy, overreacting parent right now. And yes, I'm already in therapy.

Here's the final item. Spouse and I are very high income. My job is optional, though I spent many years training in technical skills to get here. I'm debating stepping away from work to stay home with kids myself for a while, because I wonder how much of my frustration is the fact that I feel like I'm living on borrowed time and just want to enjoy my kids. I'm healthy again, but I just know how limited time can be.

None of this probably makes sense. Thanks for listening.

Update: Thanks so much for everyone's response. Due to resistance toward feedback and another safety incident, we've decided to let her go next month. I really appreciate all of your help, advice, and comforting words.