I just need to keep the pre-appointment freakouts at bay for 26 more days...but I'm running out of distractions that work. The doubting chorus is too loud to drown out these days. I can't concentrate on much other than keeping track of the last time I tested my blood sugar, the last time I ate, and the last time I felt Myles move. So I'm watching a lot of television, crocheting on multiple projects (I promise an update soon), shopping for gifts for friends and secret pals, shopping for baby, and hanging out with my guys and my animals (and trying not to be too cranky with them).
Speaking of cranky, I feel like maybe I should issue an apology to any friends and family I have offended or irritated recently. I'm sorry. No excuses. I'm just sorry.
A friend emailed me today and I found myself nodding vigorously and saying, "Yeah...that's exactly it!"
I know I can't possibly put my mind, heart, and body in your place, but to the best of my ability I think I would probably, best case scenario, be mentally shutting down right about now and waiting in some way for it all to be over, to breathe again.
I'm waiting for it all to be over...one way or another. So I shut down until then and just wait. I have all these thoughts and feelings swirling around that make no sense without context...and I simply can't provide the context for them right now. It's easier to just mentally shut down and wait. At first I thought it was laziness. But now I realize it's just self-preservation.
The possibility of failure...of another dead baby...became very real to me the other day when someone made an off-handed comment about how things would "work out" for me "this time." I wanted to scream, "You don't know that!" And suddenly the thoughts I had so neatly pushed away came flooding in. I was back in that place...making that phone call to my mom, riding in the car to the hospital with my Dad driving and Steve crying in the seat behind me, hugging my Sam and telling him his brother couldn't come home to live with us, hiding at work so I didn't have to face the looks...it's all there.
Next Wednesday is another ultrasound and NST. Then there are two appointments after that...and November 25th is the confirmed date to "push the eject button early"(yeah, my OB is a laugh riot). I try to imagine that day. I hope for that day. Because that other day...the one from two years ago...
I can't do that again.
5 comments:
It's always gonna be there in some way, how could it not? Everything you went through, go through, is a part of you now.
Shutting down a little with you, holding my breath and just waiting, hoping... *squeeze*
Things from over here have been quiet because, well, I don't have anything to say. I can say all the empty platitudes about how I just 'KNOW'! Myles is going to get here safe and sound, but I was in your shoes not 9 months ago and all I could do then was breathe, and then breathe after that, and then breathe after that. And really, that's all that you are required to do. The moment we hear the news that he has the loudest cry the doctors have ever heard, Lucy and I are going to go and get his present. :) I just want you to know that I think about you so much, but I have nothing to say. Because there IS nothing to say. And that's the sucky part. I remember 4 days before my c-section; my mother in law telling me to just wash all of the stuff and rolling her eyes when I told her I couldn't because 'what if something happened'. "Oh, nothing will happen! You've already been through a hard pregnancy!" Wow, the naivete. I wanted to smack her. I would cry myself to sleep because no one understood the gut-wrenching, paralyzing fear.
So anyway, no stupid comments from me. Just know that I am praying for you and once again I realize why we did a c-section at 37 weeks (I was doubting it AGAIN the other day when I told myself I could have gone 40). You can do it, Catherine. One breath at a time. That is all you can do. Then a breath turns into 2, and a day turns into a week, and a week turns into 3, and Myles is here in your arms and very much healthy and happy!
I love you.
I searched and searched for some magic words that would give me comfort...some stupid sign that would let me know that "this time" it would result in the ending I wanted. I never found it.
In some wierd way, I think the more vocal I was about my fears made me feel like a.) I was somehow self-protecting myself if something bad did happen, which is nuts but you do allow yourself to believe it b.) trying a different angle at luck...since I was optismistic the first time, why not try pessimistic this time. Maybe I'll get a different result. Both of which I'm sure are things to deal with in therapy but it's how I passed the day.
The negative...you can't speed up time but the positive...despite what you may feel, you can't slow it down either.
I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better but I know there is not. Just know that we are all thinking of you and hoping and praying for it 'to work out'.
This is so so hard. I am hoping for you and baby Miles, but I can't even imagine how terrifying it must be for you now. One step at a time.
I wish you some great benign distractions in the meantime. Eh, like it would work...
Post a Comment