So I know it’s going to be a bad day here when tears start flowing over the lack of diverse breakfast foods in the house. But it doesn’t have to be. These are the kinds of mood-affecting events I can control.
We’re about 22 hours away from the next doctor’s appointment, and I seem to be doing okay. Some uterus tightening and infrequent aching around the pelvic bones, but nothing becomes rigid and the pain is negligible (according to my pain register anyway.) The ache makes me walk a little weird sometimes or have to turn over slowly in bed and I definitely need that body pillow. Occasionally, very occasionally, I get a sharp pain near (I think) to my cervix. But all of this feels like no big deal so I think this must be the normal pregnancy stuff I’ve been hearing about. I’m still anxious, however, although not nearly so much so as two weeks ago, about what we’ll find out at the appointment tomorrow. I suppose it’s too much to expect that I still have a 4.5 cm cervix, but I’m not prepared to hear it’s 2.5 or even in the low 3’s.
I think my best coping mechanism so far has been my complete ignorance of dates. I like for time to pass, and weeks to flow by, without my counting them, or even thinking daily, “how far a long am I?” That’s why you’ll see no tickers on this blog ever. I was considering a Harry Potter ticker a while back, but even that date passed before I got around to it. I know vaguely that we’re in the 20th week. I don’t even know why people ask me my due date. I’m not thinking that far ahead.
I don’t want to make any plans, or create any new events which didn’t happen to remember after they’ve fallen through. I need to consider how I’ll cope if this pregnancy goes bad. And while I want people to be excited about this baby, I cannot conceive of speaking of it (very often) as if it will arrive. I’m not fatalistic, just self-preservationist. Optimism will not bring this baby happily and healthily into the world, anymore than pessimism killed my son, or anyone else’s. It might help other people cope, but what helps me cope is recognizing my own needs and limits. I can determine somewhat my overall mood – moments are more difficult. This baby will not have a mom who cries every day or is plagued by constant bad thoughts. Calmness. That’s what s/he and I seem to be aiming for together, and need.
I’m not doing as well with directing my moods as I have at other times in my life, but losing my son pushed me to the brink. Getting up, functioning, engaging with other people took effort. I’m a cheerful person. That’s a trait I somehow acquired, rather than earned. I don’t know what it’s like to be clinically depressed because I’ve only had the most momentary glimpses of what it’s like not to be able to pull myself back.