I think I’m afraid to sleep. Every time I try, I end up in a puddle of tears. I hate the silence, the darkness, thoughts that circle in my head. I know that I have to stop the “what if’s” and “if only’s”. I can’t. I’m so scared to know the reasons if any we get from the pathology reports, yet I can hardly wait to know. I’m terrified to know if it was my body that failed or if it was an abnormality with the baby. On one hand I find myself hoping that our sweet baby boy died peacefully inside of me, tucked away in my womb, warm and dark and cozy. I’m terrified to find out that he died as he splashed into the cold water of the toilet while hearing his mother wail in the arms of his daddy.
I hate that I’m blogging about this, I hate that my happy blog about the joys of Greyson has turned into my heart wrenching, getting it out of my system, therapy. I hate to know that in about 3 weeks I’ll be thinking how we should be going for our ultrasound when we would have found out that we were indeed expecting another boy. Hearing Greg telling me that “he told me so” and going straight to Gymboree to buy his first outfit. I hate that in the end of May I’ll be thinking today should have been my scheduled c-section. I hate that I cry every time I use my bathroom because that’s where my baby was born. I hate that my 3 year old asked me tonight if I was crying “because the baby wasn’t going to come out of my belly button”.
I want to wake up. I want for this all to be a nightmare.
No comments:
Post a Comment