Life is moving too fast for me today. I don’t feel comfortable with the pace. I’m afraid of being sucked in like a whirlwind sucks in tumbleweed. I want to hold onto something stable but nothing seems to be within reach today. Tomorrow maybe, but that new feeling of tomorrow being nothing to count on sets in and then I feel despair.
I just feel like sighing heavily all day.
The energy it takes to look the part stresses me out and I’m so much more in tune with my stress these days. The guilt is soon to follow, though, because stress translates through screaming for me and I really shouldn’t be screaming at the innocent.
There are lots of innocents in my life lately at whom I’ve been screaming which causes me to feel even shittier. Among others, I think I’ve been directing stress at my mother and she doesn’t deserve it any more than anyone else. But she’s not paying attention. She’s asking too much and I resent having to always say no when she keeps asking me to do things I don’t want to do. So I say yes sometimes but then I resent her for making me and that’s when my resentment comes across all second-hand and passive aggressive.
This is not the me I want to be. I’m looking forward to a therapeutic conversation tomorrow to help me gain that balance again. Perhaps it will help me slow the pace again. The holidays, afterall, are speedy days and require a quick stride. I understand this but I feel I’m leaving Olivia behind already and it’s much too soon for that. Much too soon.
Her urn is still sitting on our bookshelf; the silly doll meant to represent her connection to Lily leaned up against it. I want to do something special but don’t want to think about her in such an end-of-the-story kind of way. I suppose that could mean I’m not ready but I suspect it means I’m stalling.
Oh, and also, it’s starting to irritate me when people compare what losing Olivia to having a miscarriage. I’m sorry, but those are two completely different scenarios and I resent the comparison. Olivia was almost here. If I’d had her sooner, she would’ve been fine. She had 10 fingers, 10 toes, hair and organs and a heart and soul. She was complete. But she died. It’s different. It’s tragically not the same at all.
Speaking of losing Olivia – as if that’s not the only thing I’m actually ever speaking of here – I haven’t received official results yet but I believe I know what happened.
Olivia was extremely active very early, like around 16 weeks, so much so that I could feel her flittering around in my belly already for about a week. And then I didn’t feel her again for about a period of 2 weeks after that. Around 18 or 19 weeks (or whenever Baby Center says you should start feeling kicks), I started feeling them again. I believe she may have twisted her cord into a knot at that early point.
From that point forward, what happened was inevitable. I just didn’t know. I carried her like I was going to have a baby but if I’d been able to read the future, I would’ve seen that she was already doomed. What was done was done and no one would ever know until it was too late.
What does this teach me? It teaches me that nothing should be counted on as a sure thing. Nothing. Just because you set a course of action in motion that should lead to a certain result, it may not.
Anything could happen and something may.
So, I think her knot was formed early on and it was just a matter of time. At my regular doctor’s visit the Monday before I delivered her, I had lost 1.5 lbs and my blood pressure was slightly high, though it’s never been high before. I’d lost weight in my final weeks when I should have been putting on a pound a week. I should’ve gained 2 pounds but I lost them instead. I believe her cord was already cut off and she wasn’t receiving nutrition any longer. She had already quit growing and her heart was the last thing to go; it was the final sign that she was not going to live.
No matter how sure you think you are, nothing is a sure thing.