Or I guess, more to the point, not being pregnant. I feel a bit silly and ungrateful, but I am having some issues dealing with the fact that Scarlet came early and that I once again had an “incomplete” pregnancy.
I remember when I was trying to get pregnant, I read a woman’s blog about how she couldn’t reconcile the fact that she had a c-section and didn’t get to deliver vaginally. How months later she still felt emotional about the fact it didn’t go how she had planned. I was so upset reading this. I remember thinking “OMG! Get over yourself! You have a living baby…who the FUCK cares how he got here”
Except here I am now, seven weeks later, still staring at pregnant bellies like I always have. Feeling jealous that my last pregnancy came to an abrupt end, and once again, my body failed me and I had another abruption. She is here, alive, and I stare at her so in love…and yet, I still feel ripped off. Like I still want her inside me kicking away.
Getting up and going to the hospital calmly, excited to meet my baby, not driving there like a bat out of hell wondering if she is still alive and going to make it. The PTSD remains, and I still stare at bellies longing for a pleasant delivery…wishing it was me.
I told D and he looked at me like I was crazy…I don’t know if anyone out there in blog land gets me…but I kind of feel selfish and stupid for even writing about it, because she is here. I hold her and kiss her and cuddle her. She lives. Get over it right?