Waiting out the burn

I must be getting really near the end of my rope with this pregnancy.  I am starting to not be able to dust off the little irritants.  Words are beginning to be potent, cutting daggers.  Life and its every day occurrences are beginning to wear me down.

An acquaintance wrote me a message the other day.  She wanted me to “tell her everything that is going on in the pregnancy!  Thinking of you Mommy-to-be.”

I could not hit the delete button fast enough.  I felt the vomit build up from my belly. The words spun off my laptop screen and were suddenly life sized.  Both sentences are so highly offensive I promptly turned the ringer off on the phone and decided I was done with people for the day. And my laptop while I was at it.  Tell an acquaintance “everything” about the pregnancy? I think not.  It is none of anyone’s business, we are back to my life being rubbernecked for people’s entertainment.  And Mommy to be??? Could there BE a more offensive thing to say to a BLM? I know I do not have to detail why my reaction was so visceral.  The woman who sent the message is, in actuality, quite sweet and nothing was meant by either statement.  She probably thought she was being cute and just wanted to be part of our lives but with how raw I am I simply could not compute it.

Raw.  Very raw.  Raw from talking about the pregnancy, from answering CONSTANT questions about it and from consoling those around us.  Raw from the game and yet entirely bored of it.  I have waited so very, very long to have a living baby. Bored of this life, bored of this chapter.  Bored from coming up with things to do, other than what I wish to do, caring for my daughter.  No, I do not want to read or see a movie.  No I do not want to walk the shops, cook or even curl up with Charlie.  I do not want to “take it easy” or “be sure to enjoy this time before Beta arrives.”  How can I possibly enjoy this time?  What is to enjoy?  The constant wonder if she will live? The obsessive observation of my body for swelling, pain, floaters or the creeping deathly hell that is HELLP? Perhaps I should “enjoy” the fact that I do not have 20 month old as well as a high risk pregnancy to manage. Words suck right now.  That is about as eloquently as I have it in me to write.  They simply suck and it is all on me and my inability to process them.

There is a raw, burning numbness that has settled over me. It is much like the scars that snake my belly with the sensations that they posses. I can feel it in my bones and soul.  Stinging, burning and numb.  Complete psychological burn out and I am simply waiting.  For her.