sorry about that. between the exhaustion... and well, the exhaustion, i haven't really had time to post. i've been spending as few non-working hours in front of the computer as possible (hence this post from work -- sorry work!).
so, even though i've seen the heartbeat, and have some confirmation that i wasn't making the whole thing up, i'm still pretty anxious about this being pregnant thing. i know it's natural. but still, with every friend i tell, i think, "okay, who would i ask to tell that person if something happened to the baby?" i know i shouldn't think like that, but it still doesn't seem real, and i'm hoping that the 12-week ultrasound will help knock some sense into me. other people are happy for me, and i know somewhere deep down i'm super excited, but the anxiety and the sorrow seem to dull the euphoria.
the sorrow is more painful than the worry. ever since i found out i was pregnant, i've been missing my mom like a lost limb... i've cried in the shower... i've cried myself to sleep. i just can't seem to digest the fact that my mom won't be here for this... isn't here for this. i picture her excitement just over the fact that we were going to start "trying" a year and a half ago. she was already saying what a great dad mil would make. i know she wouldn't be able to restrain herself from calling constantly to check on my symptoms. she'd assure me when i start to worry that my breasts don't seem that much bigger. we'd compare her symptoms to mine. she definitely would have already bought some little bit of baby cuteness despite my fears and gentle pleas that she wait till the second trimester. perhaps that's why this doesn't seem real. i had a picture in my head of how this would happen. i'd take the test with mil... i'd call my mom, and she would tell the world before i'd even have a chance to call my brother. she would coddle me, and comfort me, and spoil me with attention. for some reason, without her excitement and companionship, the whole "having a baby" thing -- which i've dreamed of for so long -- seems lonely and empty.
i know that this will pass (to some degree)... as i begin to feel the baby move, as we start to fill our home with little baby things... but i feel disappointed in myself that i'm not the glowing "happy mama" that i wanted to be. i worry that my sadness will make the little kumquat sad, too. so i try not to give in too much or too long to the sorrow. i try to remind myself of all the things i have to be happy about (and right now there's something truly wonderful to be happy about)... and when all else fails, i work or i read or i sleep or, if i'm really lucky, i hang out with friends.
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4 comments:
Awww, Moosk ... I'm so sorry that this aspect of your pregnancy hurts. It totally sucks when things don't go as we'd always pictured it, doesn't it?
Just know that your mom is probably looking down at you and mil and bragging to everyone up there about her daughter and son-in-law ... and her soon-to-be grandbaby.
Just think ... she's probably got a whole slew of angels watching over you and your baby!
I totally understand. I lost my Dad almost 5 years ago and feel sad he can't be here to share my good news.
xoxoxo
My mom passed away when I was seven months pregnant. I still feel jipped that she never met my little one on earth.
But I believe that she knew my baby before I held her in my arms...
Big, big {{HUGS}} to you!
I came over from Lost & Found. I recently conceived spontaneously after a couple of failed cycles of IVF, so can relate to much of what you've written in your past few posts.
I can also understand how being pregnant can cause you to miss your mother even more. My mother died a little over seventeen years ago, and yet it still hurts that she is not there to share this experience with me. I have written about this from time to time on my own blog (see for example http://reproductivechallenge.blogspot.com/2008/06/june-is-cruellest-month.html) and thought that you may find it helpful to know that you are not alone in having these feelings.
I am sorry that what should be such a happy time is tempered by these moments of anxiety and grief.
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