I am just going to write because I am not quite sure how to begin talking about the fear going on in my head right now.
Today (8/11/14) I am living in fear for the fetus residing in my womb. I have reached the point of this pregnancy where I am emotionally exhausted. I am in my shell trying to figure out how to handle this fear. Heck, I even closed myself off from my confidant.
If I make an attempt to respond to anything via my phone, Michael yells, “Get off your phone! Put your phone away!”
If I am feeling well enough to sit at the computer to do the minimal work I have on my plate, Michael says, “Stop working and cuddle on the couch with me.”
I know I shouldn’t close myself off. I know people do not consider me and my problems a burden because they care. I know it’s all in my head. I know this because I treat my MS symptoms the same way. I refuse to be the person discussing the problems at every family function. No.
There is so much happiness going on around me right now. My brother had a bridal shower and wedding ceremony in June. July consisted of my other brother’s bridal shower and Michael’s 3rd birthday. Just a few days ago I attended another bridal shower for a family member on Michael’s side. My bestie is about to rip her own vagina any moment now. This weekend I will legally gain a new sister-in-law. And today in general is ‘a good day to be a beaver’.
So much happiness. So many reasons to not rain on the parade.
So what do I do? I put on my party dress, make sure my eyebrows are fierce, double check that I don’t ‘look pregnant’, and celebrate the happy times.
I’m sure it doesn’t help that I haven’t been (what I consider) a good friend. I don’t get on social media much at all because taking care of this threatened miscarriage, pelvic rest, modified bed rest, and my effing MS symptoms is a lot of work. I’m tired.
Which means I sleep. I have 12 hours a night blocked off for sleeping and peeing and I sleep a few hours during Michael’s naps. Every day. And when I’m not sleeping, I’m in bed watching mindless television because I am supposed to rest.
But I digress…
At the fucking crack of 4am, I had the typical urge to pee. No surprise there. So I pee. And since I live in fear, I look at the toilet paper each time I wipe. Every time.
Even though there were no lights on, I saw more than a little pregnancy spotting.
I set paper aside to be examined when I was a little more awake and crawled back in bed. Except I didn’t fall back asleep. At this point I was annoyed because I was now hungry and crampy, which meant I had to trek downstairs. Waking up before 8am is not my thing. Not even a little bit.
I popped my bagel in the toaster, poured a glass of apple juice, and watched a trickle of blood stream down my right thigh.
Fuck. Not again. No. This isn’t happening. I can’t handle this.
I’m light headed, but I manage to take my shorts off so I could wipe my vagina and thigh in the middle of my kitchen with a paper towel. A paper towel.
But that didn’t stop me from eating. Nothing stops a pregnant woman from eating. I finished making my bagel and scarfed it down before scurrying to the upstairs bathroom for a pad and new pants. Fuck, where are my pads? Fuck, why am I cramping so bad? Fuck, when did I last feel any movements? Fuuuuuuck.
And then I got back into bed and cried.
I cried because anything more than spotting is scary. I cried because cramps are uncomfortable. I cried because I was tired, physically and mentally. I cried because there wasn’t a thing I could do.
So here I am, another day in bed. Another day I had to bribe Michael with cookies because I didn’t feel like being a mom. Another day I had to tell him no because ‘Mommy is sick’.
Which is why I asked Michael to buy me a fetal doppler.