There are times when it is expected, seeing a new baby, hearing a pregnancy announcement, attending a baby shower. In these instances you know the emotions are going to run rampant. You know that you may feel out of control – angry, jealous, sad, self-pity. But the knowledge that it might happen seems to lessen the pain. The blow doesn’t feel quite so hard.
But then there are instances when it hits you like a freight train going full speed ahead, destination unknown. It’s these times where the wave of emotions is truly unbearable. Where it burns in your gut and feels like a knife in your heart. I had no idea Mother’s Day was going to be so difficult. I simply didn’t see that train coming.
And as I went to bed last night I had no inclination that still today I would be such a mess. That my emotions would still be swinging all over the board. One minute I want to hit something, throw something, make something/someone else hurt. I’m so pissed off. The next I want to cry, maybe if I shed enough tears these horrible feelings will be washed from my mind and my heart. I’m so desperate and alone. And at still other moments my thoughts are consumed by possibility and hope.
The thing is the drugs; they might have actually worked this month. There is no way of knowing for sure yet and honestly, I don’t know when we will know. But I feel like the possibility, the hope that they did their job that should be enough for me right now, right? Isn’t that what I wanted? Just a chance?
But it’s not. And I feel guilty and sad and angry and pissed off at the world and depressed and scared.
I’m scared that the drugs didn’t do their job and that I’m going to have to face the negative test result in a few weeks time.
But I’m also scared that they did. It sounds insane, but I’m actually scared of getting pregnant.
I’m scared when we announce our pregnancy that people will have a hard time mustering up excitement and joy – because lets face it, I’ve always had a quick temper, but these last ten months I’ve been a royal effing bitch. And that makes me full of anger at myself. And days like today I want to punish myself for my defective body and punish myself for letting my emotions get the best of me and punish myself for some of the thoughts and feelings I’ve been having.
And I’m also scared that if people are happy they may say things like “See, you just needed to relax.” Or “I knew it would happen when the time was right.” And the thought of those comments, well, right now I don’t think I’d be able to handle them. And that makes me mad at myself for not being able to control my feelings, my words, or my temper. And I’m fearful that if I were to hear these words I might snap. I might utter something back that is mean and degrading. And just the thought that I might do that makes me angry at myself.
And I’m also scared that if we do get pregnant that somehow this whole experience, these last 10 months will be discounted because I didn’t suffer long enough or have to endure enough. That I’ll feel like this depression I’m in right now is unwarranted, devalued.
But most of all I’m scared that regardless of what happens this month or next month or the month after that, that the damage of the last 10 months is already done.