Last night I was talking to my husband about how I realized I am probably dealing with low level depression. (Ya think?). He smiled so compassionately at me... but with a look that said he already knew that. Really? Here I thought I was doing "so well". Which I probably am, depression isn't a bad thing it's just an honest emotion.
So we also talked about how good it felt to be feeling a bit more normal. As I laid in bed unable to fall asleep (which luckily hasn't been a problem most nights) it hit me... we've only had this diagnosis for 1 week. ONE WEEK. This may have been the longest week I can ever remember living. Really, one week?
We have such a long road ahead of us. We haven't even reached the hard part, the painful parts. Possibly caring for a child with intense special needs, and then losing her. Or not even having the opportunity to give her care.
It's overwhelming, it makes me want to curl up in a ball and close my eyes. I suddenly realize why people are motivated to terminate. I'm still not, it's not even an option in my mind. More honestly I realize that it is an option but it's not one I'm even tempted to use. However, I get it. I get the need to speed up the process.
I'm not always in this much pain, there are moments where I can focus on the joy. I really do love being pregnant. I love feeling Abby wiggle inside me, and Trever was able to feel her last night. I love seeing my belly grow (it's finally starting to out pace by butt!) Along with all of that joy I am filled with sadness. I find myself being so sad that this will be our last pregnancy, so sad that it's tarnished with grief.
Some days are just so much harder than others. Maybe tomorrow will be more gentle on me.
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