Another Sleepless Night

I’m not sleeping at night. I can’t. I try, but it’s not happening. Tonight I was laying there in bed and as usual I started tuning into my body. I felt the twinge in my right side, around the ovary, where the pregnancy is. I thought the twinge had finally gone away but it’s definitely back tonight. I felt the nausea in my stomach. The nausea that was morning sickness and then a Methotrexate side effect and now I don’t know. I felt the itch and irritation of my vagina, the frustrating side effect of five weeks of daily bleeding or spotting, five weeks of wearing a pad 24/7. And I felt the sting as the tears started to well up in my eyes again.

I am so unbelievably tired. I don’t know how much of the exhaustion is physical and how much is emotional. I just know that it’s there and it’s too much. My brother-in-law and his friend were in town last week and I couldn’t even come close to keeping up with them. I felt so old. But it was more than just that. It was like my body simply stopped being able to take anymore.

I know with absolute certainty that I need to find a counselor to talk to about everything. I simply need professional help right now. Yet it is also just one more thing on the endless to do list of things that I fear are not going to get done this summer. I need some dental work done, but it’s expensive so I’ve been putting it off for a while. My car, my faithful 18-year-old car, is on its last legs and will probably need to be replaced very soon. I need to meet with my academic advisor about my fall schedule. There are entire rooms in this house that basically haven’t been unpacked yet. I have a military spouse project that some friends and I conceived that I want to finish by the start of the fall semester. I don’t know how to start to do these things when just getting out of bed in the morning feels like an impossible chore.

My poor husband had a terrible day at work today. I felt so bad. He’s been so incredibly strong for me and just putting aside my shit to listen to him tell me about his day was a challenge. I did it, but it should be easier. I’m not really a narcissist. But sometimes I can’t see past myself.

The other day I was telling a friend about what was happening and she asked me when we would be able to try again. I told her they said to wait two months for the Methotrexate to clear out of my system, but that I wanted to wait until September anyway to improve our chances of a baby being due after I graduate. And it’s really unclear at this point when I’ll have a “normal” cycle again. But the real, honest truth is I am terrified of getting pregnant again. I am terrified of going through all this again. This has been, easily, the most difficult and traumatic thing I have ever experienced in my life. And there is nothing I can do to guarantee it won’t happen again. When my ex and I broke up and I lost a ton of friends and had to move across the country and back in with my parents, that was bad and traumatic, but I knew it was because of choices I had made. And I knew that not repeating such choices would prevent a similar situation from ever occurring. Here there is no such comfort. What happened is not because of anything I did or didn’t do. It was not in my control. And it’s not in my control if it ever happens again.

Not being in control of something, anything about this is making me insane right now. At least on those two weeks of Methotrexate I could focus on the crazy diet and control what I ate. It made me feel like I was doing something to affect change. But here, now, it’s just a waiting game. Maybe it worked and my levels will drop again this week and everything will be ok. Or maybe not. But either way there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing.

I am trying not to wallow in self-pity. I am allowed to grieve, but I fear becoming nothing but my grief. Tomorrow I’m supposed to go to an all day labyrinth walk and meditation retreat. It should be both educational and healing. Enough of a distraction but also an opportunity for some reflection. I have no idea if I’ll actually go. I can’t predict it. It would be good for me, I am sure. But in the morning, will that be enough to get me out of bed?

I feel like an empty shell of myself. I am either numb or so overwhelmed with emotion I can’t stop crying. I can’t seem to walk the place between. This is depression but it is more than depression. It is grief, fear, anger. Emotions I don’t have a name for. It is loss.

Writing sometimes soothes my soul. Tonight I write because I know of nothing else to do. Sleep is out of the question. To sleep I must first let go.