I’ve been feeling funny all day. I can’t really put a name to it. Off-balance, yes, and a little bit sad. I’m still processing pieces of my last relationship.
A friend sent me a photo from a year ago, and I almost cried. I look so different in it; I almost didn’t recognize me. But I’m pretty much always near tears. That doesn’t change.
I was sitting in class today, and I noticed the bottom of my stomach was itchy. A weekend ago, I started feeling pain underneath my right side ribs. These are both potential symptoms. There could be something wrong with this pregnancy. And it all feels so unfair, and I’m realizing I am terrified. I can’t handle losing this baby. And now come the tears.
A year ago, life felt simpler. Even having lost my son, I was focused then. I was comfortable in my pain. I was taking care of my body and getting ready to try for a second child, and I was feeling pretty good, all things considering. I miss that simplicity.
Six weeks from now, it will have been one year since I started classes. Six weeks from now, it will have been one year since I first met Liam*. And those two things, together — I’m realizing that was a lot for me. And life got so quickly heavy. And I’m still learning how to swim.
And this little girl inside me, she kicks and I am full of feeling. Everyday I love her more, and every day, I’m scared. She’s helpless, and I’m responsible for her. And I’m helpless, too, just with more knowledge.
I called my doctor this morning, and he sent me for another lab test. It turns out the one that’s needed isn’t standard. The results will take a week to come back, and I don’t know if I’m hoping for them to be negative or for an answer. I just want my little girl to be okay. And for now, I’m living in this slowest kind of panic.
* Names have been changed to protect privacy