Time Bomb

I feel like I’m living in limbo. Part of my life is normal. I’m Finnegan’s mom. I go to work, I do day care drop offs, I work the birthday party circuit on the weekends, and life is everything I could hope for.
Then reality sets in. And someone asks me about my pregnancy, or admires my glow, or reaches out to touch my swollen belly. No one feels the absolute kick to the guts I feel when they say “wouldn’t it be nice if you had a girl?”. Because they don’t get it. They don’t know pregnancy like I do. They don’t even see it as the ticking time bomb it is. The one that that so meticulously needs to be diffused. One wrong move, one slip and life blows up and I’m left tattered and broken again. No one sees the scars, or the hesitation marks, no one knows all of the rebuilding that had to take place so I could stand here holding this new life inside of me, again. A storm of a pregnancy so I can see that rainbow once more.
And I feel so guilty that this is how I feel about my child. I love this baby more than anything but I’m so scared to acknowledge it and give it the excitement and the joy it deserves. I hate that I’m scared to death to buy anything for them, because all I can picture is another bedroom in my house being made into a living tomb like Everlee’s was.
And what if something does happen and I have nothing? No memories, or hopes of memories to hold on to, what if I’m left with less than nothing? Then what?
It’s exhausting trying to react to people in a way that doesn’t make them feel awkward around me me, but at the same time honours Everlee and what I have gone through to get Finnegan. What if I’m asking too much of the universe to have two living babies? What if I’ve tempted fate?
I’m not sure how to handle the anxiety and the fear and still be the best mother I can be.

Advertisements