Thursday, December 8, 2011

Something in the Air

I've had a really hard time the last couple days.  It started out with an incident on WoW, which set me off in a major way.  My blood pressure went sky high, my hands were shaking, and I literally had to put the laptop aside and walk away to calm down.  How pathetic is that?

I knew something was off just from that reaction, but the day continued to get worse.  My husband's uncle died Sunday, a really wonderful man.  He lived a long, full, blessed life, and was a blessing to many.  Justin stayed home yesterday in order to go to the funeral.  From the moment he returned home, I was biting his head off, over every.little.thing.  He got called in to work in the late afternoon, and that made me even worse with my attitude.  I was just nasty when he called.  I yelled at the children.  I sat here and cried and cried because looking at the gifts under the tree, I feel like I've really let my children down this year.  I spent an ok amount of money (about $120 on each of them) but I don't feel like I got anything "special" for any of them...just a bunch of piddly little junk.  Justin's gift from me still hasn't arrived, and I'm starting to stress over it (ordered it on Black Friday).  I was only able to spend $30 on him, and THAT has me feeling blue. 

I miss Ruby so much it hurts.  I regret not holding her, not asking for her after she'd died and I finally came out of the drug-induced haze they put me in.  I have no memories of her.  I never kissed her.  I have her footprints, but not her hand prints.  I know how much she weighed, but not how long she was.  These things are driving me NUTS.  You can't take back regrets.  I knew that going in, and everything I RESOLVED to do when preparing for her birth and subsequent death, I didn't do.  I was sick after she was born, I had a collapsed lung, I was on oxygen...but none of that matters...I didn't do the things I KNEW I needed to do to help me have peace.  I look at the babies on her playgroup she would have been a member of, and my heart aches.  Such beautiful boys and girls...but one is missing.  More than one actually...our group lost far too many babies.

I guess losing her hurt so much because I so desperately wanted four children.  I found out I was pregnant with her later than in any other pregnancy I'd had, and for a week and a half I was absolutely giddy.  I knew almost right away she was a girl.  Then the news...she wasn't going to make it.  I carried her anyway, knowing the heartache I would endure, never imagining the physical consequences of carrying her.  I agreed to have my tubes removed because my doctors were concerned about my health and any future pregnancies.  I let everyone guide my decisions, in all but one (many, including "Christian" family members, begged me to consider terminating her pregnancy), and I've never forgiven myself for just letting people push me this way and that throughout her pregnancy.  Sure, I stood my ground in a couple areas, and I travelled out of state in an attempt to save her life, but in the end, I just sort of went with the flow, with what the "experts" were telling us, etc.

Now I sit here, on the cusp of forty-two years, and I know I'll never have another baby.  My "baby" is nine years old and as tall as many twelve-year-olds.  My oldest only has one more year at home with me, and then he'll be going off to college or maybe the military, he hasn't decided yet.  My middle is chomping at the bit, wanting to date in February when she turns 16 (God help us all).  I have no "baby" to cuddle, to depend on me, to keep me occupied day after day as I sit at home.  I have my "fur babies," and while I ADORE my Maine Coons, they're not the best pet in regards to being cuddled.  I know in my heart that its for the best that I can't have any more health is pretty bad, and my mental health is worse.  It doesn't ease the ache of missing Ruby.

Did I mention I'm off my meds?  Yep.  That happened over the summer, when I was in and out of the hospitals, vomiting blood, waiting for surgery to remove my cancerous tumor.  I couldn't keep the meds down.  Afterwards, I've stayed so nauseated that when I DO try to take my meds, they come right back up.  So, as many bipolars do, as soon as it becomes "difficult" to stay on the meds, they get tossed aside.  I know this is why I'm difficult to live with right now.  I know I need to be back on them.  I lack the energy to force myself to try again.

So here I sit, at my favorite time of the year, missing my baby, missing my Mamaw, missing my uncle, missing the sense of  "family" that Justin enjoys with his siblings and parents.  I don't have that.  I miss it, and I want it, but I don't have the desire to expend the energy to try to have it.  My family is very dysfunctional and full of drama...things I just don't feel I can deal with lately.  But I miss them.

Those of you who pray...please keep me lifted up in prayer over the next week or so.  I know I need to adjust my attitude, I know I need to be back on my meds, I know I need to do certain things to feel better...I just have to find the energy to take care of it all.

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