Friday was a bad day. I am going to have some of those, no matter how much people tell me I'm doing well, and how put together I look, and how much I joke around and laugh.
I woke up with terrible pressure in my lower back and pelvic region. As far as I can tell, it was all relatively normal, because once I got myself out of bed and moved around a little bit it eased up. But it was the first time I had that amount of pressure. It's really hard to describe, because it's just pressure, not really pain, but the pressure becomes painful. And I tossed and turned hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep, but it became so unbearable I began to cry. I cried because it's scary to not know what's going on with your body. I cried because I was alone, and I wanted someone to hold me and tell me that they are going to take care of me. I cried because I knew I had to come to work today because the other secretary is out. (Not that I've ever called out sick due to my pregnancy anyway. But it's just the knowledge that I really COULDN'T that was stressing me out.)
You know, it's not just the "living with my parents" thing that's a problem. It's the fact that I was (am!) MARRIED. I wanted to be married. I enjoyed being married. But for all intents and purposes now, I'm not married. And I don't know how to do this on my own. And it's not just that I'm on my own now; it's that I don't even have my privacy to cry or be in pain. I'm both alone and yet, I'm never alone. I'm back to being this little girl that no one lets do anything because I'm pregnant, when I used to be the one running the household. It's utterly devastating. There's no other way to put it.
There is no one to help me when that back pain comes on. I just want someone to kiss me and tell me it's going to be okay.
Especially after my last visit to the doctor on Wednesday. The baby's heartbeat is good, movement is good, my fluid is good...everything is good except the baby only gained 5 oz since my last visit. He's suddenly not growing as he should, when this whole time he was basically exploding in my tummy. Granted, it could be nature naturally slowing things down for the sake of my tiny body. My doctor wasn't even worried enough to send me for a more detailed ultrasound right away. He said in two weeks they will measure again, and if the baby still isn't where they would like him to be, then they will send me. And that it's possible (probable) that the baby is just fine; smaller than average but in a healthy percentile size-wise based on my size.
But you never want to be told that they need to "keep an eye" on something. You want to be told that everything looks perfect, that the baby is perfect, perfect perfect.
And then I had to go home alone and let my mind wander into devastated depths. No one to talk out my fears with. Instead I just hold my dog. And he is amazing. He's really picked up the slack. Sometimes I will rub his neck and he will put his head down, and rest the top of his head on my belly. And he will stay that way for a long time. That's why when he's not around, I am even more devastated.
And sometimes he isn't around, because sometimes he's with my husband. We both rescued him. I picked him out. Fell in love at first sight. I can't give him up. He is the only thing that brought me some semblance of comfort over the past few months. Gave me something else to focus on, and someone to take care of. And to top it all off, he took care of me. There were times when he was off doing his own thing, and if he sensed me crying, he would stop what he was doing, come up to me, and sit with me. At night he starts off the night with me in bed until I'm comfortable and then sleeps beside me on the floor or in a chair right next to the bed. In the mornings sometimes he will jump back on the bed and cuddle with me until we have to get up.
And the poor thing has been sick-ish all summer. The vet is telling me it's allergies, and I'm aware it could be, because he is just over 2 years old and may be at the point of developing those adult-onset allergies. But the only way it's manifesting itself is in that he is chewing on all his paws down to the skin. This started immediately following us moving out of the apartment. So I'm convinced it's separation anxiety. And I am devastated that we are causing him to do this. I wish I could describe the extent of my love for him. That I need him.
Going through this alone really makes me a little crazy. For instance, I took Chester to the vet yesterday. When we were getting ready to leave the exam room, the vet tech bent over to get Chester's leash for me and hook it onto him, because I was struggling. The vet asked when I was due, and he asked me in this gentle, loving, and sincere way. And it made me want to cry to HIM. And kiss him. And not kiss him in thanks, but make out with him. The fucking vet.
Maybe it's not so crazy though. I'm lonely (have you noticed?), and he's a young guy, he told me he has a 1 year old, and he's so good with Chester (which is my current version of somone being good with my son). Isn't that the kind of stuff that's supposed to be what gets me going now? I don't know, maybe it's still crazy.
And how wildly innappropriate is it that I want to do the same to my own doctor, especially when he gently wipes the ultrasound goop off my belly. That's when you know real lonlieness has set in, because that's the extent of physical contact I've had in some time. Granted, he's known for being a bit of a cutie. And years ago, during my first visit with him, he spent a good 10 minutes with me ignoring his other patients and asking me questions about poetry. Now, you want to make me fall in love? Talk to me about [my] poetry. Talk to me about finding something that makes you look forward to waking up everyday. He agreed this was important. Apparently, vaginas make him want to get up in the morning! Well, I'm glad they do. Because I get to be his patient. Besides, and a friend of mine and myself just had a conversation about this, the female OBGYNs seem to be a bit rougher, and the males are just, in general, much more gentle (hence my doctor's sweetly wiping off my tummy, as opposed to one of the women there who just tossed me a towel.) Speaking of, for all the women out there, what do you do with your hands when you are getting a regular gynecological exam performed? I always feel awkward and need to do something with my hands, like at least look at my fingernails or something.
Pregnancy makes you lose all shame.
Listen. You can be a strong woman and still cry. You can miss your husband and still know that what might be best might not be easy. You can make mistakes and be genuinely sorry for them. You can regret things but still find the time to laugh. You can pray for things to be different. It doesn't make you weak or stupid. You can hurt someone you love. It doesn't mean you don't love them still, more than you know how. It makes you human. Nothing is easy, no one is perfect, and we all travel through different lives, on the same earth, to end up the same.
When a massive life change happens to you, you shouldn't also be forced to explain yourself or your situation to anyone. You show me a person that has the right to judge me, and I will let them. Show me someone that has no regrets, someone that has never chosen incorrectly. Show me someone that hasn't chosen perhaps correctly, but still hurt someone in the process. You go out and look, and get back to me when you do.
I won't hold my breath.