I bought a knitting loom. I made a tiny baby hat with it. I was so excited and proud of myself. And then....I started crying.
I hate this. Knowing that babies out there are tiny enough to fit this hat. Knowing so well what these babies look like. Knowing that when most people think of pregnancy and new babies, they picture a healthy, full term baby kicking and screaming its way into the world.....and when I think of it, all I can see is a silent, tiny baby just big enough to fit across both palms.
I hate being here, in this world of being a mother but not quite a mother. I hate that so many of you know exactly what I'm talking about because you are right there too.
I've been seeing a lot of prenatal issues and infant death articles in the news lately. I hate those too. I'm happy that someone is pushing the issue, don't get me wrong about that. But I get so mad when I read them because it sounds like the issues are being pushed for all the wrong reasons. And the statistics and facts sound so misleading and unimportant. I hate that I can tell the people writing them have most likely never lost a child.
There's an awful lot of hate in this post today. But it's the truth. Hate and depression. I don't have the
My flashbacks at work are getting worse. I started noticing a trend with them. The worst ones always happened when I was having to use a ladder. And then I realized that the last thing I did at work was on a ladder. My boss argued that I could do this particular job because it was in the hangar, since I wasn't supposed to be allowed on the flight line. He completely ignored the fact that I had been told I should be completely pulled from maintenance at this point, but he said I still had to do something since I was still in the shop, at least until they could find something else for me to do. So at five months pregnant, I spent about half the shift standing a ladder, trying to help them route a heat sensing element (it's a thick wire that runs through the engine compartment to sense an overheat/fire). It hurt so bad. I would get off the ladder to throw up and then have to go right back up. I hurt in muscles I didn't even know I had. I held my aching back and tried to hold back tears. I started spotting that night. The ER found loose blood in my uterus, but they couldn't tell where it was coming from so they sent me home. I followed up with my OB, who said there was no blood and that everything was fine. Within four hours of being home from the OB, I was delivering my son in my bathroom floor. I left work 5 months pregnant and miserable. I came back a month later not pregnant and even more miserable. And now every time I climb onto a ladder, that entire weekend replays in my head.
I really need a new job. But Bryan is still in school. Until he graduates and gets a decent job, my job is the only thing we have keeping us afloat. So I can't do anything but keep dragging myself out of bed and forcing a smile onto my face and making it through, one day at a time.