It’s weird for me to think back five and a half years ago to the day when I married Tyler. There were a lot of good and bad decisions I’d made in my life up until then, but I can (and will always say) that marrying him is the single best decision I’ve ever made. I remember we both had big, toothy grins through the entire ceremony and the sealer who married us just laughed and said, “I’ve never seen two people smile as much as you two are today!” We just fit together, unlike any relationship I’ve ever seen or been in.
And the best part is, nothing’s changed since then. Despite all the crap our little family has been through, we’re still that giddy, innocent, smiling couple. I wish I knew our secret.
But on to other things that weigh much heavier on my mind. I think I’ve mentioned before that this pregnancy has been unexpectedly hard. Hard on me physically, and hard on me emotionally. I thought going in that I would get an overwhelming sense of gratitude, for this is supposed to be the great blessing I’d longed for, the great blessing that was robbed and ripped from my arms.
It hasn’t felt like I thought it would. I’m still scared and uneasy, when I should be full of excitement and gratitude for my rainbow baby Owen. I’m trying. It should feel like a blessing to be pregnant again with a healthy baby, but why can I not wrap my head around it? I have nightmares that he is taken away from me, or born with anencephaly like Amelia. I’m scared he’s not truly mine.
I’ve really struggled to know where I fit with friendships and acquaintances since we moved here. How much of my burden should I give to my new friends and how much do I need to hold within myself? I’m tired of being the “broken” friend, the one who is emotionally vulnerable and weak. I lie and say I’m fine most of the time, but I can only keep it in for so long before I start to explode with my deep, dark feelings upon some poor, undeserving individual.
I’m a feeler, a crier, a compassionate and emotionally sensitive being that apparently cannot be tamed. I’m exhausting as a friend, is what I am.
Baby Owen is not unwanted or unloved, but he hasn’t been easy to accept, either. I know our family needs him. I need him. And I’m sure, just as everyone tells me, that when I see those baby blues look up at me when I hold him in my arms, that I’ll fall in love. I believe it, because I’ve seen it. But where is the peace and solace to be found until then?