Hate

I hate Mondays because those were the days when I would reach a new week in my pregnancy.

I used to look forward to Mondays so I could check my pregnancy apps and read about what size my baby was. Today I should be 26 weeks. I can't get it out of my head- every Monday I think about what week I should be in.

I hate Tuesdays because that's the day my water broke. 

Do you know how often I have flashbacks to that moment when I use that bathroom? How wrong it felt and the immediate sense of dread. How I called the triage nurse to ask what to do and sat there sobbing, water still gushing out, as I was on hold.

I hate Wednesdays because that's the day I found out my baby was dead.

After thinking everything was over on Tuesday, I had a tiny bit of hope on Wednesday morning when I hadn't gone into labor yet. I went into the hospital to get antibiotics in the hopes that I wouldn't get an infection and could stay pregnant. I went there alone. And I was alone when I found out he was dead.

I hate Thursdays because that's the day I gave birth.

I remember the complete silence in the room, seeing that none of the doctors or nurses wanted to be there, the terror when the epidural only worked on one side and I thought I would have to feel everything, and many other horrible moments. The best and worst part was holding our baby. I hope that's the hardest thing I ever have to do.

No verdict yet on the other days of the week, but I'm sure I could come up with reasons to hate them too if I really tried.

I have no idea why, but I feel like this is getting harder instead of easier. Last week was terrible. I hated everything.

I had a fun few hours on Tuesday (Italian market and museum), a distracted few hours on Thursday (teaching dance), and a good day on Saturday (road trip to Madison). Other than those breaks... I felt depressed and angry every second.

On Sunday a speaker at our virtual church meeting was talking about trials. He mentioned that trials can sometimes make you more empathetic. I'm still laughing about that one.

I used to feel empathy and compassion for other people. Now all I can think about is myself. I hear about something bad that happened to someone else, and all I can think about is how it's not as bad as what I went through. How I wish I would have had that trial instead of my baby dying.

Besides not caring about anyone else's problems... I have two other poisonous thoughts that have been haunting me. These are not thoughts I have all the time. In moments when I feel okay, they seem ridiculous. But I have a lot of moments when I'm not feeling okay, and these horrible thought reoccur. Please let me emphasize that I realize these thoughts are awful and completely irrational.

I wish other people's babies would die.

It's not fair that they haven't. I'm talking about people who are either younger than me, already have other kids, didn't have to struggle to get pregnant... or a combination of all 3. 

Now I feel like I can't go to work, church, or family events. There are people who were pregnant at the same time as me (and still are, or they had their babies). I used to talk to them about being pregnant, and now if I'm ever around them again I will either see their stomachs or their babies.

It's hard for me to stay isolated (clearly being alone with my thoughts is not fun at the moment), but I don't feel strong enough to be around these people. If their babies died too, I wouldn't be alone. Not only would there be other people around who would understand, but I could leave my house.

I wouldn't be sad if I died.

My baby can't come back to me, but someday I will be reunited with him.

I assume that will be very far in the future and I hate how far away it seems. I have moments where I wish that moment wasn't so far away and we were together.

I struggle because I really feel like I can't be happy again. That even if I'm able to have kids someday, I couldn't be happy because my son still wouldn't be with me. That's one of the things that makes me feel hopeless.