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.

Big Girl Panties

The past couple of weeks have required a lot of me putting on my big girl panties and just doing what needs to be done, regardless of how I feel about it. For most people in their thirties, that is probably no big deal, they do it all the time. As someone with an anxiety disorder, I have spent many years of my life not doing what needs to be done because of how I felt. The way I feel after sucking it up beats out the discomfort of whatever I have to do every single time. I’m proud of me right now.

One thing that was a challenge recently was going to a baby shower for my friend and his wife. I am happy for them, but that shit is hard. And to add to the fun there was a problem with our invitation and it got sent back to the woman throwing the shower so I didn’t find out about it until pretty last minute. And it was the day after our big move. Fortunately, the shower itself was mostly just fun. It helps that it was co-ed and my hubby was there with me. It also helped that it wasn’t your stereotypical shower game madness, even before all the trying to conceive business that was never my thing. The hardest part was watching them open gifts. They are having a daughter and all the sweet little girl clothes nearly brought me to tears a few times.

I have to take a minute now and brag about our gift, because I think I did something unique and thoughtful (the gift is from both of us but it was totally my idea). Like I said, we found out last minute and we were moving the day before, so shopping for gifts was pretty much out of the question. Also, a lot of our money is tied up in this move right now until we get the deposit back from the house on base. So, we got them a small gift card for one of the stores where they are registered, but their main gift was something very different. I made little post-birth coupons. They got three coupons:

1. We will deliver a home cooked meal. We can just drop it off, we can watch their daughter while they eat, or we can eat with them, their choice.
2. We will come over and do one chore of their choice (laundry, dishes, bathroom cleaning, etc.).
3. We will babysit one night when they are ready and need a date night.

One upside to having so many friends who are parents and to reading lots of blogs and things related to pregnancy, birth, and parenting is that I hear a lot about what parents of newborns really need, and it’s not stuff. The parents-to-be were very grateful and doing something like that made me feel better being there.

On a less positive note, we still have a ridiculous amount of work to do to be fully moved out of the house on base not to mention unpack and settle in at the new place, another friend announced a pregnancy on Facebook this weekend, and yesterday we were awakened by the neighbor at the new house screaming at one of her kids in what I really, really hope was a fluke incident (before we decided to move here we asked the owners about noise from the neighbors and they said it wasn’t a problem). And now I should really get off the computer and get back to work.

 

Just a quick note to my regular readers: Because of the chaos of the move I have been on WordPress very sporadically lately so I’ve only been reading a little and mostly haven’t been commenting or responding to comments. This makes me feel like a bad blog-friend, but just know that I am still thinking about and rooting for all of you.

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Too Much?

I haven’t even had a full week of classes and the pain in my stomach is back. I’m having panic attacks regularly and nightmares every night. I’m starting to think I took on too much this semester. But how can that be? Yes I’m taking 16 credits and all but one of my classes are 300 or 400 level, but that’s pretty much to be expected for someone in the second half of their Junior year. It takes 120 credits to graduate, in four years, at two semesters a year, it averages out to 15 credits each semester. I took 15 last semester and I certainly struggled but I managed and got almost all A’s. So why does 16 make me feel like I’m drowning after three days?

What it comes down to is that I don’t know if I can do this. And if I can’t do this, how the fuck am I ever going to be able to raise a child?

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