worry

How will I ever love another child as much as I love Nolan?

Will Nolan and the baby get along?

Will it be a boy or a girl?

What if we don’t pick the right name?What if they don’t like their name?

Do we have everything that we need?

Will the baby be a terrible sleeper like Nolan? How will I survive the sleep deprivation?

How will we ever pay for two kids in daycare?

How will the baby be born?

Is it a boy or a girl?

Will the baby be as silly as Nolan?

Will I remember how to breastfeed?

Will we ever get any sleep?

Will the baby also be allergic to milk like Nolan?

How well will the baby breastfeed?

What if I don’t produce enough milk?

Will I be able to go back to work and survive?

How long will I have to pump? I hate pumping.

Will we be able to afford two kids?

What if I just don’t go back to work and stay at home with the baby?

Will I be able to give Nolan and the baby equal attention?

How will Nolan be affected by the transition?

Who will the baby become?

What type of person will he/she be?

 

I can’t believe how meaningless, how asinine, how ridiculous all of these worries are. I can’t believe I ever worried about even one of these things. And now, I can’t believe how much my worries have changed. How real they are. How constant they are. How all-consuming they are. 

 

What if something happens to Nolan? Seriously, what if something happens to HIM?

What if he gets hurt? What if he gets sick? What if he gets hit by a car? What if he gets cancer?

What if he dies?

How can we keep him safe? (The world doesn’t have enough bubble wrap.)

Will Simon’s death completely fuck Nolan up?

Will Nolan ever know how much I love him?

Will Nolan think that I love Simon more than I love him? Will he understand grief and how it takes ahold of someone? 

Will it ruin all of our relationships? All of our friendships? Will friends continue to step away?

The support feels like it has already slipped away, is that just how it is? Where did it go? Why did it stop? What did I do wrong?

Why are there so many friends, so many family members that have completely abandoned us?

Will anyone ever understand how it feels?

Will the depression, the anxiety ever lessen?

Will we ever feel complete again? Will I wake up every single day of my life feeling like something, someone is missing?

Will I ever feel whole again?

Should we try again? What if I get pregnant? What if I don’t get pregnant?

What if I have another miscarriage? Can I handle that pain? The despair?

What if we aren’t able to have another baby?

What if I am never able to share the love that I so desperately want to share with another child?

What if something happens to Brett?

What if something happens to me?

What about Little Guy? Why did he die? Did I do something wrong? Why didn’t he make it? We were at 12 weeks, the safe zone. 

Will we ever tell Nolan about him?

Will I ever feel safe again?

Should we adopt?

Should we try again?

What if we try again and it doesn’t work? When do we stop? For how long do we continue to try?

Do I put energy in relationships that feel strained? Ones that feel over?

Will I always be this lonely?

Will I always be this sad?

Will I ever look at a baby again without immense grief and sadness?

Will I ever be happy again?

Who will die next?

Will my life always be an uphill battle?


2 thoughts on “worry

  1. Tera, I sure don’t have many answers to your painfully honest questions.  But I think I might have a few. First, worrying about your child’s health and safety is a Mom Thing and perfectly normal.  Add to mine the fact that I was suffering (we found when I was almost 50) from clinical anxiety, and you know I understand your anguish.  This is not the perfect world that our kids and grandkids deserve, and it’s tough to know how to prepare them for what IS.  You would be just as scared and anxious if you had a dozen kids.  It’s what we do. Second, I saw you with children for many years, and I think I can guarantee that Nolan will grow up to be a caring, loving, compassionate person by watching you.  (And Brett must be the same—I can’t see you marrying any other kind of man.). You are honest and open with Nolan.  He’s going to be just fine. So you.  Your heart is shattered.  Never have I known someone so willing to hold her grief up for all to see, and so articulate about the agony.  Reading your posts is painful, and some people just avoid pain.  We don’t know what to do, how to help, so we do nothing and you feel abandoned.  You’re not.  There is a great, mysterious kind of loving support around you that you can call whatever you like.  That support holds Simon, holds you and your family, and takes all the anger we hurl at the universe and still holds on.  Those of us who are still here with you, are tangible symbols of the support you have.  It’s not enough, but it’s all we can do.

    Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPhone

    Like

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