As you can imagine, or at least my BLM moms who have carried a rainbow can imagine, my anxiety is starting to creep up. I have moments where it consumes me.
This morning as I was driving home from work, I started crying. My car rides home from work are usually my time to reflect, and often cry. Tears were streaming down my eyes out of anger this time. I was angry at the fact that Foster and I even have to be in a situation of such anxiety and stress.
I am in a strange place in regards to the other pregnant women around me. I feel a complete disconnect from those that are naively awaiting their little ones, those that will never know the reality of a dead baby. I am jealous.
As my pregnant friends are trying to decide how many onsies and diapers and which things to put on their registries, I am keeping all my purchases in a corner with the receipts...."just in case". The only items I have washed and put away are the ones that are non-returnable or were previously washed or purchased before Rosie passed.
They are getting anxious about the new addition to their family. They are wondering how they will juggle this little bundle of joy along with work, their other kids, finances, and how they will deal with the lack of sleep. I am just praying every night that I get to bring this child home, that I will get the opportunity to experience the sleepless nights.
Their biggest concerns right now is what type of delivery they will have, if they will go natural or have the dreaded c-section. I am just praying we make it to my c-section date!
As they are stressing over decor for the nursery, I am TRYING to get my nursery together, but at the same time, have the plot at the cemetery picked out in the event Ava will be sleeping there instead. I am hoping that my aunt, uncle and mom would agree to let her lay with my grandfather next to my grandmother so that she is next to Rosalynn. I know...I KNOW....morbid. But these are the thoughts of a Babyloss mom.
So as I drove home listening to "She Just thinks We're Fishin", I started pleading with God that Foster gets the chance to do these sorts of things with Ava. He confided in me the other morning that he is "Already falling in love with her." I don't want to let him down! I don't want to disappoint him again.
I am aware that Rosie's passing was not my fault, but it was my responsibility to keep her safe, my body's JOB to nourish and protect her, and it failed....I failed.
Realistically and statistically, I KNOW the odds of this happening again are soooooo slim, but it can happen...it DOES happen. As I sit here, Avaleen is kicking away, as if to tell me that everything will be alright; truth be told, I, along with a lot of you, have a great feeling about this little one. (And now I want to erase that sentence for fear I just jinxed myself). However, it angers me about how unfair it is that these thoughts have to even run through my head, that I even have to stress over losing another child. But as Foster said before kissing me goodbye this morning, "Life isn't fair, honey."