It’s been a rough few days.
I decided that it would be good to have a weekend free from socialising, just quiet, not doing much. I think it was definitely what I needed, but at the same time I really didn’t want to go through it.
Friday was a good day, looking back, the surgery went well. I didn’t sleep well on Friday night, but I suppose I can put that down to eating a lot on Friday afternoon, and the anaesthetic & painkillers filtering their way out of my body.
Saturday was when the sadness hit. And I wasn’t expecting it. I was feeling so positive about just moving on and feeling better on Friday, that the way I felt on Saturday almost blindsided me. At first it manifested itself in just quietness, observing life. It was quiet but at the same time it was so full of talk. There was so much thought going on inside my head it was exhausting. I’m not sure what my husband thought of it, but he was doing well in dealing with me and my silence, however I seemed. I did some reading and journaling later in the afternoon after we went for a drive in the hills, and it did help to some degree. After we watched a movie we went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I felt so anxious, I was feeling uncomfortable all over and I was still so tired, but yet I couldn’t seem to find rest. That’s when the tears came. I’m not sure how long I cried for but it felt like my whole face was swollen. The sadness was unrelenting and it felt like there was nothing I could do but succumb to it. I just sat there on the bed crying with my husband slowly but surely wrapping himself around me in the dark. I think it was about 11pm when I decided that I had probably stopped crying enough to go to sleep. It was an effort to get my mind to stop ticking but eventually I drifted off.
I still felt so sensitive on Sunday morning. Better, but, I don’t know. Sensitive. There seems to be no other word for it. I helped my husband with a few things but I was still uncomfortable from the surgery. I had been having cramps occasionally since Friday (not that I was bleeding much, barely even spotting, which was a massive surprise considering what the doctors & nurses were telling me), and I was also still quite tired. Darn this whole recovery process!
Monday – today – arrives, and the floodgates open. It took it’s sweet time, and I decided that I should stay home. I didn’t want to be at work with a potentially overwhelming crime scene happening in my pants. I only had 2 people to train today, and they were flexible enough to reschedule. I’m staying home to watch movies and eat and rest. I’m still tired and emotional too – not helped by the movies I chose to watch!
I feel like I’ve done so much thinking over the past few days. Still nothing really makes sense (and I apologise if this post doesn’t really make sense either). Oh well, such is grief. I feel like I’m on a never ending roundabout. Both in life and in my head. When we try again, I’m just going to have to go through another 12 week wait. The first 2 weeks are waiting for ovulation. The next 2 weeks are waiting to see if I’m pregnant. Then the 8 weeks that follow are just hoping like mad that this pregnancy is actually going to last. So far my track record isn’t that good. How long do we keep going around in circles for? How many times am I going to have to go through this before we decide that enough is enough? How broken am I going to become through this? Will my sadness ever go away? Will I ever be truly happy again? Will my life without children be enough? For goodness sake, I’m supposed to have an 8 month old and be 18 weeks pregnant with my second child. This is not how life is supposed to be. I’m a happy person and it’s very hard to be happy right now! I know I have so much but it seems so hard to be focusing on anything but what I don’t have. I feel so overwhelmed by the future and I’m tired of the old mantra “take one day at a time”. But when things feel this awful it’s really more like “take one breath at a time”. Sometimes a day seems like too big a chunk of time to get through. And I know that I will meet my babies one day – but when a day seems like too big a chunk of time, “one day” way off in the future seems so freaking unbearable.
I’m slowly chipping my way through the book of Job. His brutal honesty is refreshing. I could honestly be saying the things he said. I feel like I have no hope, no prospect, my patience is at it’s limit, and I am definitely not feeling strong. I am feeling wilted and beaten.