I’ll just preface this with saying that it’s been a bad week.
Today I would have been almost 32 weeks pregnant. But 16 weeks ago my Abby died. She’s been gone from me longer than she was with me now. I don’t know how I walk around with this empty hole in my chest.
So then after trying to come to grips with her loss and planning to move forward, today was supposed to be the day that I was going to get knocked up again via FET. But, since I made a horrible decision on the day my Abby left me, I now have a lead weight in my abdomen right below the gaping hole in my chest.
I just cannot wrap my brain around my life, the things that have happened to me that I had no control over and the bad decisions I made that I did have control over. I thought I could move forward but I just can’t right now.
I wish I had just stopped TTC after Sweetie. I would have had three miscarriages and then one beautiful baby. I wish I would have stopped then. I would have been a far happier person (not happy, because I would have always felt like I wanted more babies) but I wouldn’t have destroyed everything else in my life by pushing through two more 1st trimester miscarriages and then the 2nd trimester loss. I would have been a far better mother if I had just stopped after having Sweetie. I would have been a far better wife if I had just stopped. I wouldn’t have hated my body so much- I would have carried her to term and breast fed her for over a year and stopped while I still felt like my body could still do something ‘right’. I would have been sad that I only had my one child, but I wouldn’t have wished for my own death every single day like I do now. I wouldn’t have lost so many friends because I’m just a shitty, awkward person to be around because everyone just doesn’t know what to say and they feel sorry for me (and in the same breath they are really, REALLY happy that they don’t have to go through the shit I have).
I found out this week that two ‘friends’ are pregnant- not just new pregnancies or hitting the 2nd trimester. Like 17 and 18 weeks pregnant. Where I was when my little girl died. And as if that isn’t enough- one of them found out she was pregnant the very week my little girl died. She got a great Mother’s Day present and I had every future Mother’s Day ruined for me for the rest of my life. She got to celebrate life and I once again just get stuck with death. And grieving. And grieving.
My psychiatrist says that my depression/anxiety meds are working ‘well’- Um, ok, glad I’m paying you out the wazoo for this appointment when I don’t agree with you. She doesn’t want to ‘overmedicate’ me so I don’t properly grieve. What the hell? Please, just overmedicate me. I need something. Anything.