I feel like I'm drowning. I don't think I am strong enough to survive this pregnancy. I wish Oliver was here with us, where he belongs, and that we weren't even thinking about having another baby yet because he's keeping us so busy.
But he's not. And so I am six weeks pregnant again. Or not - the sonogram was not terribly promising.
I am so afraid. I feel like I could sit on the couch and cry for days, in a way I haven't cried since the first month after Oliver was born. I'm so afraid I am going to run Richard off, acting like such a nut. He says it's okay, but I know watching me this way, needing so much, must wear him down. How can you keep loving a person who has nothing to offer you but her own fears?
He said the kindest thing a couple of weeks ago, he said "Sarah, you're so strong. It makes me proud to be married to you." It made me feel all the more ashamed now of how weak I truly am. I feel skeptical of this baby, and I am ashamed of feeling that way. I feel like we will go in for the sono on Thursday and they will confirm what must be true: this is not a real baby. It will never come home with you. And I will say goodbye again, except this time to a baby I could never really believe in in the first place.
I keep trying to find perspective. I don't handle early pregnancy hormones well - they make me emotionally labile I know. I cried a lot more often than usual during the first trimester of my pregnancy with Oliver, and then there was no reason to. I guess it's to be expected that I would be a wreck now. But knowing that doesn't get rid of that weak feeling I carry around - like I'm constantly on the verge of melting into a puddle on the floor where I belong.