Last week was a doozy.
We had a three-day weekend, and it was just Rainbow and me pretty much all weekend. It consisted of a lot of toddler tantrums, a lot of counting, and some of me battling my own demons to get through the day. I realized that my beautiful plans for Rainbow’s birthday party were going south as the weather is predicting cold and possible rain. Tuesday was International Wave of Light, and I went to a concert for my favorite band. So, no, I did not light a candle for our babies, but I was thinking about it and putting it out into the universe that I was honoring them. Wednesday was Rainbow’s actual birthday. I took the day off work and we had a fun birthday day of us.
By Thursday I was out of spoons. (Don’t know what I am talking about? Read about the Spoon Theory. In summary, it says that when you are sick with an invisible illness–mental health, Crohn’s, Lupus, etc.–you have a set amount of energy throughout the day and every activity takes that energy, spoons in this analogy. Some days eating breakfast might take one spoon, others it takes four, just depending how you are doing.)
Between growing a tiny human, spending a larger amount of time than usual with a three-nager, and office politics, I was OUT OF SPOONS. I was chatting with another loss mom about my day and venting about what was going on.
As one does in talk therapy, I came to the undeniable conclusion that I am scared.
Scared that this baby won’t make it. Scared of my husband starting and being in rotations during the first year of baby’s life. Scared of how Rainbow is going to react to having a baby brother actually in her domain. Scared that I will not have enough time to bond after he is born due to my lack of time off at work. I struggle to say engaged now, I struggle to clean the house, make sure everyone is showered with clean clothes. So, how on earth will I handle this with two tiny humans?
It took a lot for me to realize this. I think it’s normal? I have given up the idea that I will have normal thoughts about much in my life. I have a lot of trauma that compiles to keep me skeptical, and on edge. I want to be carefree like other moms I know who can go with the flow, and figure it out as they go. I cannot. I need plans. I need the ability to trace the steps I took and see what went wrong.
So how does one reconcile this? What do we do in these situations? Therapy? Hope for the best? Pray (says the woman who doesn’t pray)?
I suppose it all boils down to control. This is a common response to a trauma.
We desire to control things in our lives that we typically cannot due to the loss of control due to trauma. Ever since my first miscarriage I have had a strong need to control all the things. As many of you know, we cannot control all the things. So how do we, control freaks, deal with not controlling and not being able to predict exactly what is going to happen? These are genuine questions. I do not remember how to let things go to chance/universe/god/whatever you believe. In other posts I have set the intention to let things “come what may.” As I get further along I am struggling with this, a lot.
Any suggestions welcome.
I hope you all are having better thoughts, and times this week. As a friend told me, this will pass, and you can get through whatever is happening.