The fear is back. It’s manifesting differently but after six splinters, two scraped knees, complaints of tummy pain and a huge fall all in the last five days, I’m terrified that a) my fear caused all of this and b) something horrible will happen to Ada and it will be all my fault. My fear will have called it into being.
Two steps forward. One step back.
That internal space I was raving about earlier in the week? Gone. Replaced by complete overwhelm and massive amounts of tears.
We are moving in 8 or 9 days and I can’t get anything packed because Ada won’t leave my side and doesn’t want me to leave hers – even if it’s to sit 3 feet away and sort books. She needs to be on top of me, in my lap, clinging to my clothes. I understand her life feels unsteady and I am her medicine, her anchor, her life raft. Then fear freaks me out again with whispers of something else being wrong, something I don’t know yet, something she can’t tell me any other way.
It’s crazy. I feel crazy. Fear can make you crazy.
Then there was the woman in the doctor’s office yesterday with her infant son. He couldn’t have been more than 3 months old and her belly was flatter than mine before I got pregnant. I had to numb myself to his eager nursing sounds until later, when I collapsed, sobbing on to the bathroom sink and couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.
When will I stop looking pregnant?
When will this stop hurting so much?
When will life feel normal for more than a moment?
When do I get that damned guarantee?