I have diligently tried for two years to drown the memories of the life I almost had in a sea of alcohol - unfortunately my tolerance for booze has become too high for these thoughts to be swept away... so grab another glass of wine and a huge bowl of ice cream and let's stroll down memory lane!
In the handful of days before entering the hospital to terminate Toren's pregnancy I did a lot of reading and learned that a fetus at a mere 20 week gestational age can be born alive. They don't stay that way for very long though. Toren died before he was delivered. I knew he wouldn't live no matter what gestational age he made it to and it was both a relief along with huge a disappointment that I never got to see him alive outside of me (I wanted desperately for him to die with me rather than with nurses tending to him so I did get this wish). At the 6 week follow-up visit with my doctor I asked her why he wasn't born alive and learned that with delicate fetuses who are not cushioned by amniotic fluid the force of the contractions often kills them. My uterus crushed Toren to death.
Another confession - I like to watch the show "I didn't know I was pregnant". Doesn't that sound ideal?! No known pregnancy to worry through and everyone on the show ends up with healthy take-home babies! Unlike the women on the show who recognize no signs of pregnancy I have frequent pregnancy symptoms, despite the absence of sexual encounters (until recently) and the baby. I have pregnancy daydreams. Almost two years after Toren and I DAYDREAM about being pregnant. Why not daydream about fantastic vacations to Greece or discovering a major cause of bilateral renal agenesis? Or why not at least daydream about paying all of my bills on time every month or being caught up on laundry?
What next? I am still suicidal every so often, like earlier tonight, and I think I have figured out a major contributor... add PMS to the list of self-diagnosed health issues! (Also on the list are PTSD and a sprained toe) Before August when my housemates moved in and I met the snugglebunny I was depressed 24-7; during the last couple of months I have been truly happy at times, but then around a week before my period I become so "moody" (as in amazingly depressed, suicidal, and out of my mind crazy). I'm afraid I will drive this awesome guy away by being insane and that makes me very, very sad to think about. I'm really trying to hold it together and I take my meds everyday and see my therapist once a week but I still can't quite make it to "normal".
And back to the start - at least I think Toren was dead when he was born. He and I were alone and I didn't quite know what had just happened due to the sedation I'd been on all week, pain medication for labor pains in the form of morphine which it turns out I'm allergic to so benadryl was added into the mix too. Gravity took over and it seriously took a few moments for me to figure out what I was looking at. He was all curled up and just when I was starting to stroke him with a finger a nurse leaned over me, cut the cord and swept him away.
I have confessed my way to sober. Good night.