Detached

This is ridiculous.

We're watching an episode of Voyager, and one of the officers is exhibiting all kinds of signs of some sort of depression. It looks all too familiar... And I mention that she looks and is acting like I have felt for the past week. Not sad or anything... Just apathetic. Unfeeling. Detached.

And she's looking for ways to hurt herself... She says it's so she can feel SOMETHING. I'm not doing that. I don't care whether I never feel again.

One of the other characters tells her she can't turn off her feelings and emotions. The hell you can't.

I don't feel a thing these days. I don't mourn the loss of my baby because I rarely have enough emotional response to feel loss. I don't eat because I hardly feel hunger. I haven't been sleeping well because I haven't felt tired.

I barely feel a thing... And yet, I still desire to feel LESS. I want to medicate myself into obliviousness. I never want to feel anything at all ever again.

One thing I do feel: Dread. My return to work tomorrow morning means interacting with people again, which I have so successfully avoided for the past 10 days. It means facing questions about how I'm feeling, what happened, etc. I can't face that. If anyone asks me tomorrow at work about ANYTHING related to this, I can't be sure I won't break down and walk out without a word. One pair of sad eyes looking at me could be enough to cause a breakdown. I can't feel. I can't afford to feel. If I feel, I will fall apart. I will think... And I can't let myself think.

I never want to leave this room. It's safe here. Here, everyone knows what happened. No one asks. No one pries. Here, I don't have to think or feel.

Every Tear A Mother Cries

I sang this song in voice about two years ago. I found myself singing it again about two weeks ago. Perhaps some part of me knew before I was consciously aware of the status of things.

"Every Tear A Mother Cries" from the Broadway musical, Honk!

Every time I turn around
I expect you to appear
Everyone may call my name
But it's your voice that I hear
Every moment that you're gone
Is a moment dark and gray
Every tear a mother cries
Is a dream that's washed away

Every day will seem to me
More empty than the last
Everywhere the sun once shone
A shadow has been cast
Every moment that you're gone
Is a moment dark and gray
Every tear a mother cries
Is a dream that's washed away

Every moment seems an hour
Every hour lasts a day
Every tear a mother cries
Is a dream that's washed away




My dreams may have been washed away, but not by my tears. Which is sad. Baby deserves far more tears than I have shed...

Baby deserves a lot that Baby will never get, it seems.

Numb

I want to grieve.

I feel I should grieve...

And yet, I can't. I can't face it, can't accept it, and therefore cannot be sad about it.

I just keep thinking I'll wake up tomorrow, and it will all have been a dream.

I Should Have Bitten Harder.

Sure, I might have bitten through my tongue, but it would have hurt less than this.

I'm not ready to talk about it. I feel like I'll never be ready to talk about it. I feel like I'll never be okay to go back to work and face my coworkers who now know all about it, thanks to my having to suddenly leave work to go to the ER and then notifying them I won't be back for a few days. I feel like I should just curl up in a little ball and die.

The only--and I mean THE ONLY!--reason I'm still around is Asher. I couldn't leave him a widower so soon after getting married. It just didn't seem fair.

I never want to get out of bed again.

Biting My Tongue

I can't believe how difficult it is for me not to tell Mom & Dad. I want to call them up and spill it all SO MUCH!! But I keep remembering that I've got 2.5 weeks to go before I can start to breathe more easily, and I don't want to tell them to expect another grandchild if there won't be one on the way. I keep remembering Mom's words when someone else near us lost her baby: It was really too soon for her to be telling anyone. That's why I wait. That's why I decided to keep my mouth shut until 12 weeks, or at least until the first exam where we hear Baby's heart! Besides, it just happened to work out perfectly that Asher and I will be going to visit on the very day I reach 12 weeks, and we can tell them then, when we're past the most dangerous phase of the game. :o)

My tummy feels ENORMOUS today! I'm aware that much of it is bloating and bowel distention rather than actual Baby mass... But I still get exciting knowing I'm resembling a pregnant woman these days. ;o) A week ago, I was worried that I was showing much too soon, but then I found this wonderful site, where I can compare my bump to that of other women who are at various stages of pregnancy, and I see a lot of women who are 8, 9, and 10 weeks pregnant whose tummies are about my size, or bigger! That was really comforting for me.




That's where we stand now. (I know, I know... I realize there's probably not a soul alive who can see the difference between that and the picture a few days ago, but *I* can see it! :o) ) I'm a little bigger at present, as I'm currently all bloated and HUGE, but that's what Baby and I looked like last night and this morning. I can't wait to see where we'll be next week! :o)

But AHHHHHHHH!! I just want to call my Mommy and tell her how excited I am!!!!!!!!!

Hormone Crazies

This morning, I woke Asher up with my sobbing. I was CRYING for minutes on end because, get this: I wanted a turkey sandwich! As ridiculous as it sounds, I'm even starting to get emotional NOW, remembering! I just, I really really really really REALLY want a turkey sandwich... And I can't eat deli meat. This is horrible and cruel and unbearable! Why on earth would I crave something so desperately that I cannot eat?!? *whimper*

Asher's still sleeping, so I tried to find someone to get lunch with me, but to no avail. Now, of course, I'm so dizzy from hunger that I'm afraid to even attempt driving to one of the fast food joints I'm trying so hard to avoid. *SIGH* This pregnancy thing is hard. And as good as Asher is to me, I can't help but feel that it's unfair that I'm going through so much and he doesn't get any of it. He can see the irrational and overly-emotional responses to things, and he can write them off as evidence of hormonal changes. He can hear my complaints about my sore breasts or nausea or food aversions, but to him, they're nothing more than little annoyances. He will never understand how a turkey sandwich could bring me to tears that way, or how I can get to the point where I am too hungry (and, therefore, too dizzy) to get something to eat. I can't make him understand why I'm tired by 7, exhausted by 9, and out cold by 10, only to turn around and wake up at 7 and be upset that he sleeps in until 2! I hate that he doesn't understand it, and I hate that, as much as I remind myself that it's not his fault he doesn't get it, I still find myself unreasonably irritated with him for things beyond his control.

The hormones have taken over, and I'm absolutely positively insane as a result. Heaven help us!