Oh you guys. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. My husband and daughter just left the hospital, her in tears and him dreading the ride home. It’s so hard. When he started with the motions of leaving she just started screaming and clinging to me and while I’m glad she still remembers me and knows that I’m her Mama, is there anything more heartbreaking than your child crying? She doesn’t know what’s going on. She doesn’t understand why I have all but disappeared. I have been in this damned hospital for nearly two months now. I have missed out on two months of my daugter’s young life, two months of my marriage, two months of my job, two months of my life. After they left I burst into a giant angry storm of tears and of course the nurse came in to check on me and then tried to make me feel better. I am not one to share my grief, especially with strangers, so that actually made me feel worse – so embarrassed and pitiful. I want so badly to go home. The doctors all say different things – oh, if you make it to 34 weeks we may consider letting you go home, you’re here for the duration, you’ll be lucky if you make it to 34 weeks, and on and on. You know what, doctors? You’re not very good at making people feel better. This burden of terror that has been resting on my cervix for 8 weeks now is not getting any lighter and you saying YOU’RE A TICKING TIME BOMB, YOU’LL GO INTO LABOR ANY SECOND, OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL PREGNANT is not helping. Not one little bit.
And because I’m a mom I feel guilty all the time. Guilty because I’m not there for my first kid, guilty because my faulty body is going to cause my second kid to be born prematurely and have potential lifelong problems, guilty because other people are cleaning my house and cooking meals, guilty because my husband is a suddenly single father who has to fill my prescriptions and do my laundry and drive out to the hospital to visit me while still working full time and he doesn’t ever get a rest.
And because I’m a woman who is not only pregnant but on supplemental hormones I just feel so weepy all the time. I cry in the bathroom so that nobody will find me and see me and try to hug me because while I like most of the nurses they are not my friends. They don’t know me. They don’t love me. They’ve put IVs in my arms and given me cervical exams but they don’t know my heart. My poor breaking heart.
And because I spend most every minute of every day alone I am lonely. And sad. And worried. And terrified. And angry. And all alone in it with nobody to talk to because I’m so sick of hearing myself talk about it that other people have got to be tired of it too. They have lives to lead, jobs to do, people to see, food to eat – who cares about me and my fucking cervix? I don’t want to burden anyone so I put on a happy face and pretend I’m being positive when all I want to do is scream.
I want to go home.