Maybe it's that I worry too much.
I've always been a little anxious. In recent years, I've grown little suspicious, particularly if things go easier than I expect. I'm usually uncomfortable if things seem to be going well. Lord knows I was still a little worried that something would go wrong (especially after 3 losses and my other "conditions"), but behind it, I felt good. I loved the idea that I was pregnant, that we would have our sons -- even if I was sick, and so sick and tired of being sick.
I recall actually thinking, Well, I'm almost 17 (?) weeks now, probably things will be okay. But at the same time, I was trying to push away the thought of that one blogger I had read before I was pg, who lost her daughter at 19 weeks. (She went password protected after trai.nwreck.ing; I never got to hear the rest of her story.)
I recall actually thinking, Wow, I have a great marriage, I'm working towards a degree I love, my family is mostly healthy, we have good friends. Yes, we have debt, we have struggles, we miss my mom. But now we're going to have our own family: our sons, our sons would each have a brother. I'd hoped they'd be good friends. I looked forward to seeing our family evolve.
I looked forward.
It feels, in my lizard brain, like I've been slapped down. Like the universe is saying, See? You did have plenty to worry about. You didn't think you were going to get this, did you?
As I write this, I know it sounds crazy. Like some neurotic coping mechanism I developed in childhood has just been proven useful. Like I'm saying I sabotaged this, or I don't deserve to be happy, to get this one thing. Like the universe is saying, this is all you get; and not only do you not get this, you get punished for wanting it.
Like I should have kept worrying.
Like I should have held my breath until I held them in my arms. Living. Breathing. Squirming.
Rationally, I know it's not true. But.
9 comments:
I feel the same way - I look back at my blog posts from when I was pregnant, days before our loss, where I said it was too early for my shower, what if something goes wrong, and think that I should have focused more on that, that I jinxed things by being happy and have positive expectations. And then sometimes I wonder if it would hurt less if I hadn't worried, hadn't assumed that nothing that good could ever happen.
Per your post below - I can't speak from experience since you're farther out than I am...but I do think it will get better. I say to DH every day that I don't see how it can get better, but deep down I have to believe it must. I believe that for you too, even more so than for me.
Sorry for having nothing more for you today besides "me too!" and platitudes. I just wanted you to know I was here, and reading, and understanding.
Busted, the "me, too"s do help, really.
Thanks for reading (and writing).
I've just caught up on some of your recent posts.
I just wanted to say "sorry that you are having a rough time"
~a
I want to say you're not being punished, but you know that already. The randomness of it is what really sucks--you don't have to deserve it, shit just happens. I'm so so sorry it happened to you and your husband and your beautiful boys. I wish I could help.
:(
It was at 20 weeks that I took a deep breath and told myself, "Ok now I can relax and just be happy." Ha! I was so foolish.
But isn't it natural to think that once you get that far that things are going to be okay?
unfortunately worry has nothing to do with it -- you could have worried every minute or not at all and the outcome would have been the same. as freaky and out of control as that sounds, and it is, there is an odd disconcerting kind of comfort knowing that *nothing* I could have done would've made a bit of difference. ~luna
Oddly, when I look back on my pregnancy with Maddy, I feel that I was getting rained on with anvils and I should've known it would blow up spectacularly. I think I did start retreating, but more out of practice than a real sense of danger. I feel like I should've known. Not that it could have changed things a single bit in my case.
I use the "if I worry enough maybe the bad things either (a) won't happen or (b) if they do it won't suck as much cuz I'll have already worried about it so much, method of coping all the time. Guess what? It doesn't work for shit for me. The good stuff still ahppens and I'm happy and worried and the bad shit still hapeens and I am devestated and worried. Why I keep doing it I have no idea, I think it makes me officially crazy/insane tho, you know, doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.
I do think things will get better, time really does have magical powers. Hang in there.
You know this is magical thinking, right? And you know this is both natural and not true, I am sure. Randomness in the universe is so hard to accept, so hard that sometimes we try to come up with reasons. Reasons that most times end up being hurtful to ourselves.
I knew, kinda. I fessed up to it on my blog, finally, a few weeks ago. Didn't do shit. Didn't help the grief any either.
it's not you, and there is nothing you could've done. I am sorry.
Post a Comment