Last night was a night of strange dreams. Maybe it was the three beers I drank. Maybe it was the kick ass buffalo burgers I cooked for dinner. Or maybe, and far more likely, it was suppressed anxiety and depression about being unable to bear live children and also having a pretty terrible self image and hating my own body. Yeah, it was probably that.
As much as I love reliving my most painful experiences while I’m supposed to be resting, I rather think there might be something better I could be doing during that time. Right like, sleeping or resting, or just not reliving the moment when I realized my baby was dead over and over and over again. But alas, no. That is how I spent my night last night. Finally being able to see arms and legs, feeling happier than I’ve ever felt in my life, then hearing the hubs say “where’s the flicker? won’t we be able to see the heart anymore?” then feeling my entire world crash around me. Over. and over. all night. Well, not all night. After getting up to pee it morphed into trying to seduce G and him shutting me down because I wasn’t sexy enough for it to be worth anymore dead children this year.
I wonder if this will stop if I ever do manage to become a mother. Will I ever get to the point where I don’t toss and turn all night in pain? Will I ever feel like I’m good enough to be a mother, or wife or anything? Will I ever be whole? Yeah, I didn’t think so either, but just thought I’d check.