Every time I close my eyes, I am transported back to the nightmare of being in the doctor’s office and hearing his words telling me that my baby was gone. The most recent nightmare, not the first one. Or if I do manage to fall asleep, I wake frequently in a terrified, cold sweat. I can only hope that the nightmares will diminish over time as I get further away from my most current hell.
Then on top of things, Quentin was sent home with a fever on Wednesday. Yesterday, he was better, but cranky. Ger is working from home so we are alternating watching him. Being sent home means he will be home today as well, per day care policy.
I am trying to fill the spaces in my day, because it is in quiet moments that I feel the worst. So yesterday I attacked the master bathroom, clearing clutter and expired medications. It served as an adequate distraction, but then at the end of the day I was sore. Guess I need to heed the doctor’s advice to take it easy.
I joined a private Facebook support group for parents who have had pregnancy or infant loss, hosted by the hospital. Scrolling through the posts, I’m not sure if it will do a lot for me but I will give it a try.
Today marks one week since my world was shattered for a second time.