This road is full of needles. I'm so glad that I don't have a phobia of them because I'd be screwed otherwise. In the past two weeks, I've given at least 10 tubes of blood and been pricked 5 times (twice with IV catheters which SUCK) causing bruising on both arms so they have to keep alternating arms/veins. Oh and the sucked water bottles worth of blood out of me too. Sorry, that's gross, but it's true. I've been felt, examined and ultrasounded like crazy.
I've been to the E.R. twice, the O.R. once, the doctors office a bazillion times and Ikea once.
In the E.R. and prepping for the O.R. they kept saying that I was in such good spirits. The people at work today welcomed me back and said I looked great, all smiley and stuff. But urgh you guys I'm so not okay. Well technically I am, and physically I'm practically back to normal, just 8 pounds lighter because now that I don't have a baby to feed, I don't feel like eating. Just your average symptom of depression. My pants fit buttoned again which is fantastic. But everytime I look out the window, I see my little baby in his pot of flowers. And every time my stomach starts hurting, I immediately tell Zach "the baby doesn't like it" because my baby literally hated when I ate certain foods, but now it's just a stomach ache; no baby.
It's great and all, really, I know how to fake this. I've had tons of practice.
But then I have another doctor's appointment at an office that specializes in obstetrics so there's PREGNANT women EVERYWHERE and even worse, NEWBORNS. It sets me off you guys. I literally curled up in a ball on my husbands lap because we knew we were losing the baby but it hadn't happened yet. The sweet nurses' professionalism faltered because let's be honest, no one wants to bring anyone news like that, and it's hard watching people hurt.
So then me and Zach went to Ikea yesterday. Should be safe, right? We're walking around the maze, looking for a fantastic new bed frame (with a head board, because I move too much at night and lose my pillow if I don't have a head board). And then there's the baby cribs. And there are couples looking at them with big bellies and big dreams that will actually get to come true for them. So we quickly run away with unshed tears in my eyes and sympathetic glances and back rubs from husband-bear. But the next section is the kid section. So now there are pregnant women, fresh babies, squishy babies and toddlers that are Ben's age walking around. On the outside, I'm running away as fast as I can. But on the inside, I'm falling to the floor, screaming.
24/7 since that first day this all started, I'm on the floor, screaming and crying. If at any moment of the day, your thoughts wander to me, just picture me doing that, and you'll be right. I wake up every morning with some degree of swollen eyes from crying.
I'd like to get back to the normal everyone thinks I'm at. Maybe I should stop faking it. But then I'd just cry more. I want to be at peace. I've been waiting for peace for 3 years.
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