Just in the past couple days I have felt what I don't want to call depression, but probably defines it correctly, creeping in on me. I have felt pretty good. I reffed 13 games this weekend. I did 4 more monday night. My body feels really good. My kids are happy. They are busy and I am busy running them around and making dinner again. My oldest son is playing lacrosse and my 9 year old is playing soccer. My daughter is trying track for her middle school. My little son just turned 5. My husband got a big promotion and is now branch manager at one of the biggest branches in the credit union. Very soon, his income will pay all our expenses. All these great things are happening and I'm not really finding joy in any of it. Intellectually I can see how good it all is but my heart just isn't in it.
I know that I didn't lose a child. I lost the dream of a child. I still have 4 wonderful kids that I know. I really get them. I can tell you how they will react in a given situation. I can tell you what their teachers and their friends think of them. I can tell you how much they weigh and how tall they are. I can tell you their favorite clothes that they wear and their favorite things to do. I can tell you how they make me feel when we talk and how kind and generous they are. When they'll get mad and how they'll react. I am really nervous now that one of them will die. If I keep acting like things are bad maybe I will get shown how bad they can really be. I worry that my husband will have a heart attack or die in a car accident. I think that maybe I am too ungrateful and that I will have to learn a lesson about that too.
I just want to lay in my nice, cozy, warm bed in my dark bedroom and stay there. I don't even want to cry anymore. This is really not me. I'm not a gloomy, feel sorry for myself type of person. And so I don't go to bed. I get up and clean because I have a home inspection for our foster care license coming up. I stay up and make dinner and gluten free bread and the muffins my family loves. I stay up and watch tv with my husband at night. I run my kids around. But I keep feeling like I'm missing something. The world just seems to have lost some of its color. I keep hoping that I will feel happy and that soon I won't have to make myself do this stuff anymore.
I will run 5 miles again soon and often.
Losing this last baby and all the other miscarriages will not define me. I won't let it. I will get through this too and come out better for it. And I will be happy.
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