Eight Months — still breathing

“‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?' ‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat. ‘I don't much care where,’ said Alice. ‘Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat. ‘So long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation. ‘Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.’” (Lewis Carroll, ALICE IN WONDERLAND)

I feel like I am losing my mind.

I feel trapped. Stuck. Paralyzed. Unable to move out of my head.

Fears. Anxieties. Insecurities. Doubts. Apprehensions. Worries.

They are crippling me.

I’ve been fighting off a cold for over a week now, and it’s causing me to sit. And I’m sitting with my thoughts. My preoccupations. My worst fears. I am my worst enemy these days. Misery loves company, and I don’t want it. My mind is misery. My thoughts are burdensome. I’m driving my own self crazy, and I can’t find an escape. There is nothing rational going on within me, and I can’t find peace.

I’m not sure how I will keep going.

How will I keep moving forward, when the fear of the unknown is hanging over me?

It’s been eight months. Eight months? How is that possible?

I look at her picture on the mantle, the one I force myself to move to each night as we gather to pray. Her rosary rests upon her picture. And I remove it and study the beads made of her flowers with each prayer. And I am misery.

How did this happen?

I look at that picture, and although she looked so full of life, she very much was not. And I scream inside. I rage. I fall apart. I want to break something. I want answers. I want a reason. I just don’t understand. When will my sadness go away? When will this unbearable heaviness lift? How does life keep moving forward?

And my anxiety explodes. My fears become relentless. I can’t snap out of it. I spiral. It’s been unbearably heavy the past two weeks.

How will I survive the remainder of this pregnancy? This “pregnancy after loss?” How will I get to my maternity leave? How will I keep working? How will I keep going? I just want the end to be here NOW. But what if it doesn’t make things better? Nothing will ever, ever fix this.

I am literally terrified of the unknown. An unknown delivery. An unknown future past May. The unknown of this baby. The unknown of my life, my profession.

I had a baby. Eight months ago. And it didn’t end like I had hoped. There are no guarantees this time around either. And I’m so tired of waiting.

I want to race to the future. I want to know how it all ends. My body is growing. And expanding. And so much of what is going on inside me and around me is out of my control. I feel caught in a tornado of circumstances. When and where will I land?

But mostly, I just want her here. With me. I want to sit with her. Hold her. Look at her. See her. Hear her. Watch her. Marvel at her.

I don’t want to hold it all together. I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to keep fighting. Honestly, I feel like I am at a breaking point. I need peace. And I need it to come now. I beg. I plead. I long. I wait. And I tire. And grow weary. I’m being so impatient.

I’m struggling to see the lessons. I’m struggling to see the fruit of my suffering. I’m ready for a change. Something redeeming. A break from the pain. I’m ready for things to “work out for me.”

I’m walking into the future blindly. And it’s frightening me. I have no security. No resolution. Just the choice and the decision to trust.

But grief is slamming me. It’s hammering me down hard. I’m finding it impossible to come up for air.

Eight months? Impossible. I’m stuck in that moment. That day. That week. Have people expected me to move on? Do they feel I should be better? Do they think I’ve gone crazy, too?

I doubt myself. I’m trying to learn who I am. It’s not easy.

Eight months is too long without my baby. Yet, I have my whole life ahead without her in it. And that is daunting. That is harrowing. And I fear when I look too far ahead.

I do not know where I am going.

But I need to go SOMEWHERE.