The tide goes high, the tide goes low. For me these days, there are a lot more 'low tide' moments than there are high tide. And the saltwater flows, oh yes, it does, usually several times a day.
I'm definitely traveling a slippery slope here. One that I'm giving my all to, trying my best to scale it, and I think I can say with all confidence that it's not working.
I'm dealing with some major thoughts and anxieties here. I heard you all on how it'll take time to heal, to find a "new" me, to come to terms with what I've been through recently. Thank you, each of you, for sharing your thoughts and experiences with me. It is reassuring to know that I'm not alone and that my thoughts and feelings are somewhat typical given what I've been through. And though I'm not alone, I'm starting to realize that I can't 'go it' alone this time.
My postpartum OB appointment is next week. I think I'm going to have to let it all out. I just know that when he asks me how I'm doing, I'm going to crack and lose it. It's not going to be pretty and you know what? I'm embarrassed to tell him the truth (also, my OB has called me every 5-7 days or so for the past few weeks to see how both I and Daniela are doing and I've always told him that I'm doing "pretty good"). To now turn around and tell him that I'm not processing all of this very well seems to me like admitting failure.
But the truth is, I'm not doing so well emotionally. I've been trying to take things one day at a time, but it's hard when you've got future days to think of--namely, we won't know until Daniela is at least 3 or more months old if she's progressing normally developmentally.
I keep mulling everything over in my head, wondering where things went so wrong, knowing it's likely we may never know where things went wrong (though--and this is the first time I've brought this up here--there is the possibility, and one that can never be proven medically, that a local injection made by the OB into my perineum as Daniela was close to crowning may have nicked her head, gone through a soft spot, and caused the bleed). And know this, if that was indeed what happened (though like I said, it can't be proven), it was an accident, and accidents happen. I place no blame on anyone (other than myself it seems, good lapsed Cath0lic that I am).
Yet, all of my musing and mulling keeps drawing me back to the same question: why me? why us? why after everything else, why this?
Why, why, why...like a petulant child (and believe me, we've got one of those here already, in the form of Miss J who seems to have hit the terrible twos a little ahead of schedule, courtesy, I'm sure, of everything that's going on lately).
Yes, I'm babbling now, aren't I? Back to my point...I'm floundering, trying to make my way. It's just that I think I need a little more help in the form of pharmaceuticals perhaps. We shall see. The hard part is coming...admitting to the OB that I need help. Perhaps the sooner I get help, the sooner I can begin to heal, and to move on, embrace the new chapter of me that's here and that's to come.
I can do this. I will do this.