Most of you know that I've lost a few pregnancies, some that I've posted about here and some that I haven't. I should be over it by now, and I know it. Instead, I still find myself freaking out for no reason. I'll be reading through a craft book, see something with a child's drawing on it, and have a panic attack. I mean, trouble breathing, shaking, the works. My mind keeps running in circles and telling me that I'll never have a child--everyone else has children, why can't I, when I'd be a better mother than half of them and provide so much love?--it's not fair--I'll never be able to do these things--and on and on. It doesn't matter that I'm holding my squirming kid on my lap at the time. I can't look at the magazines in the check-out aisle at the grocery store because they're covered in pictures of baby-toting or pregnant celebrities. If a show about twins, in particular, comes on the radio, I have to turn it off.
Ignoring the whole "when does life begin?" question, I know that I didn't really lose a "child," not like so many other people have. My heart weeps for those people. I never held my would-be babies. They didn't have personalities. Most didn't live beyond a few weeks. I have a beautiful, vibrant little boy who's as alive as it's possible to be. We've been struggling to have another, but the wait isn't as bad as it was the first time because of our existing kid. Still....
How am I supposed to get over this and move on? Therapy isn't an option. It wasn't when all of this started because I was working at a government facility and had a clearance that mandated that I report any sort of mental health issues, including talking with a counselor, and that I be investigated to make sure I wasn't a risk to the program. I know I would've been cleared due to the nature of the "issues," but I didn't want to risk giving my already-flaky employer a reason to get rid of me (which they did in 2010 anyway during a plant-wide layoff). It's not in the budget now that I'm not working and have less inclusive insurance, and I know my husband wouldn't be happy about it anyway. He's the pragmatic type and doesn't really get it.
I just wish I could be normal again, or at least as normal as I ever was. I know some of you have been through similar situations. How did you let go? It's not like I'm walking around thinking about this all the time. I just feel like a ticking time bomb, going through life as normal and then BAM! wanting to curl up in a ball somewhere and lament that fact that I'll never be a mother.