I couldn’t sleep last night.
I couldn’t sleep because I’m exhausted.
Right before I shut the light off, I told Tim how hard it is sometimes to keep living the day-to-day while going through something like this. It feels impossible to process this kind of loss and grief when, for the almost two years I’ve been battling this, I’ve still been waking up every single day and going to work, coming home, making dinner, going to bed, and waking up all over again. Every day my actions are pretending that I haven’t been going through this incredibly life-changing ordeal.
I’m not saying I want a medal, or recognition, or even a slight pause or glance from anyone else….what I want and need, is a pause from myself. As I shut the light out, I had visions of a month away in solitude;* a month break from everything in my life just to process the huge weight of these losses that I’ve been carrying with me. It feels impossible to do so when your daily life is still present, acting like nothing happened (how dare it!).
With each loss, a part of me has shifted permanently. And yet a very large part of me keeps having to go on like nothing has changed. Which is completely and utterly fair, I understand that…it’s life after all. But all I ask for is a break. I think I’d even take a week at this point to process it all. Two days a week that are usually spent helping to take care of my step-daughter is not enough.
Before I went to bed I recalled what a friend told me earlier in the day: that my acupuncturist is no longer working on pregnant women. I know it’s not mine to take on, but I felt an immense amount of guilt take over me when I heard this. The day I found out I had lost the fourth, I called to cancel my appointment that was planned for the next day because there was no point. I had left it on his voicemail, telling him the baby was gone. The days following I felt unfairly betrayed by him and still do. Prior to this last pregnancy, I had tried everything Western medicine was willing to do for me at the time, and I wrongly laid all my hope on acupuncture. He was going to make it work, he was a miracle worker after-all, and I had friends who were proof. But it wasn’t his specialty and I knew that and I need to stop blaming some of the loss on him. It’s just easy to do because there’s no one else to blame. As a result of my disappointment in his hands, I haven’t contacted him since. Despite my therapist’s wish for me to see him so he’ll help my body heal, I just can’t do it. And now I find out he’s no longer accepting pregnant patients. There is no way that this is not a direct result of me and my loss. I felt while I was seeing him that he had a special fondness for me and my case. With my loss, he lost some of his hope, too. And now pregnant women throughout the area are missing out on his miracle hands, and it’s all because of me. I know that with this change he’s just admitting that it’s not his specialty, but it still stings to know I was the cause of that.
I just need a break from all of this. Two years and four losses amongst daily life feels too much for me to handle sometimes.
* I’d like Tim to visit, please. A month is too long away from that part of my life.