Monday, February 6, 2012
3:47 p.m.
I am alone for the first time today and I don't know what to do. I have been with my husband Daniel since Wednesday at about 5:00 p.m., with the exception of my time in surgery on Friday and a couple of brief outings as a means of escape over the past several days. I miss him in a way I've never experienced before. Being apart doesn't feel right.
Going to bed would probably be a good idea, considering that my body and heart are recovering and sleep hasn't come easily lately, but I don't want to be there without Daniel. I don't think I want to be alone. Being alone means thinking things that I don't feel comfortable thinking right now. I also don't want to rest where my baby used to rest with me, where'd I'd lay down and try to feel the baby move, where I'd wrap my maternity pillow around my body and make sure to lay on my side, where I'd drink my water to wash down my prenatal vitamin each night. Being without my baby doesn't feel right either; in fact I don't know if I've ever felt something so unnatural in my life.
Daniel went back to work today. It was a difficult decision for us to make and I think when he comes home at the end of the day we will both be wondering if it was the right one...but nothing at all is right right now. I don't think tomorrow or the next day or the next would have been the right day for him to return either.
Right now, faking a normal life seems wonderful at first thought. We can "be us" and be "normal" and live like we used to. "Maybe we can just pretend nothing ever happened, then we won't have to feel sad," says my mind. But I know that, even if I fake normal now, that weeks or months down the road, it will hit me that our baby is not in my belly and that July 2 will most likely not be a joyful day and that I will not be 27+ weeks pregnant at Felicity's birthday party and that I will not have a 5 1/2 month old baby next Christmas.
Even when I am faking normal and trying to convince myself that I'm alright, I know that normal is impossible right now. Doing dishes and laundry and baking muffins this morning felt good, but I knew I was only doing those things to avoid feeling sadness. Productivity makes me feel important and successful. It reminds me of what life was like up until I saw our still little one on the ultrasound. But I'm finding that even in faking normal, the sadness still creeps up on me. I used to make breakfast with my baby in mind. I'd think, "What would be best for the baby?" Or, "What will make me feel the least bit of nausea?" or, "Will I get enough calcium for the baby in the meal?" or, "I should not eat too much fat so I don't have to get my gallbladder removed before the baby's born." Everything involved the baby, and then it just stopped without warning. The baby was gone and that was that; nothing I could do. And now I try to do normal, and it's just not the same.
Right now, faking a normal life seems wonderful at first thought. We can "be us" and be "normal" and live like we used to. "Maybe we can just pretend nothing ever happened, then we won't have to feel sad," says my mind. But I know that, even if I fake normal now, that weeks or months down the road, it will hit me that our baby is not in my belly and that July 2 will most likely not be a joyful day and that I will not be 27+ weeks pregnant at Felicity's birthday party and that I will not have a 5 1/2 month old baby next Christmas.
Even when I am faking normal and trying to convince myself that I'm alright, I know that normal is impossible right now. Doing dishes and laundry and baking muffins this morning felt good, but I knew I was only doing those things to avoid feeling sadness. Productivity makes me feel important and successful. It reminds me of what life was like up until I saw our still little one on the ultrasound. But I'm finding that even in faking normal, the sadness still creeps up on me. I used to make breakfast with my baby in mind. I'd think, "What would be best for the baby?" Or, "What will make me feel the least bit of nausea?" or, "Will I get enough calcium for the baby in the meal?" or, "I should not eat too much fat so I don't have to get my gallbladder removed before the baby's born." Everything involved the baby, and then it just stopped without warning. The baby was gone and that was that; nothing I could do. And now I try to do normal, and it's just not the same.
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