I was going to call this post “numb” but I realised I’ve already called one that not so long ago. It feels wrong to put “numb part II”. The situations are completely different and I want them to stay that way.
Like I wrote with Yogi, my mind is still protecting me. I’m still going through the physical side of things and I know that once that is over the real pain will start. I’m functioning quite normally and maybe there is a part of me that feels relieved to not be in the limbo of That Weekend (where we didn’t know if our baby would live). It’s not the ending I was hoping for in the slightest but at least it’s closure on some levels.
During the weeks with Peanut I came to the conclusion that pregnancy is not fun for me anymore. Oh how I wish it could be but my innocence around the subject has been long gone. To constantly be scared of visiting the bathroom is not a way to live.
I’m not sure where this post is going, I guess I wanted to document my thoughts on this loss but the truth is, I don’t have any. I simply cannot go there. As soon as I start to think even a little I get so angry I fear I could do some real damage to my house.
I want to cry but Little Man will be up from his nap soon and so I feel I won’t have time. No time to cry. No time to stop and listen to what I really need to do. Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to. I feel like I’ve spent months grieving for Yogi and was just coming out of it into a new normal and I don’t want to lose that feeling. I don’t want to go back to the dark place. I don’t want to do anything but be present for my son.
But I know that Peanut deserves the time. I deserve the time. Hubby and I have named them and it’s hard for me to say it out loud, heck, I can’t even say the nickname of “Peanut”, so I know I need to acknowledge this hurt bubbling away under the surface and release it somehow. I need to acknowledge that my number has increased from three to four. Put simply, I need to acknowledge what’s happened.
But I don’t want to.
Until next time,