I had a horrible dream this afternoon when I took a nap...and all I ever seem to do lately is sleep. In the dream, I was walking around this huge hall filled with people, carrying a dead baby (in the dream, I knew it was my own child) in my arms. My family and friends were with me, and we were waiting our turn for some kind of funeral ceremony.
When our turn came, I was led into a stark white room with a drawer that came out of the wall. I knew upon seeing it that this drawer led to a crematorium, and that I had to put my baby in there and say goodbye. I placed the baby in there, and someone reached over my shoulder and turned the baby's head away from me. I protested and said I needed to see her face.
I started talking about my child, put some little toys and such in the bin with her...the baby was suddenly not a rounded, full-term baby but a dried-up little mummy-child, brown and wizened.
I woke up from it aware that this was my mind trying to make sense of the knowledge that after the 27th, I will never again be able to have any more children. I never planned to, really -- Mara was a fucking miracle, considering that I almost died while I was carrying her, and Sean has had a vasectomy because we had decided not to have any more kids -- but in a way, I think I have to mourn the passing of my womb and the end of the possibility of having another child.
I feel very old and used up right now, very sad and restless and on edge. I cry frequently, for no reason at all. I almost burst into tears in the store today because a guy was staring at me -- Sean and I had to stop halfway through our shopping for me to sit down and get a drink because I was having a hot flash -- and this guy was sitting at the next table. He was young -- in fact, he was just about the kind of guy who would visit suicidegirls.com -- and he stared at me so intently that I felt like a freak and got up to go, even though I still felt hot and nauseated and gross.
I hate the way things are right now. God, I hope I feel better after the surgery...
When our turn came, I was led into a stark white room with a drawer that came out of the wall. I knew upon seeing it that this drawer led to a crematorium, and that I had to put my baby in there and say goodbye. I placed the baby in there, and someone reached over my shoulder and turned the baby's head away from me. I protested and said I needed to see her face.
I started talking about my child, put some little toys and such in the bin with her...the baby was suddenly not a rounded, full-term baby but a dried-up little mummy-child, brown and wizened.
I woke up from it aware that this was my mind trying to make sense of the knowledge that after the 27th, I will never again be able to have any more children. I never planned to, really -- Mara was a fucking miracle, considering that I almost died while I was carrying her, and Sean has had a vasectomy because we had decided not to have any more kids -- but in a way, I think I have to mourn the passing of my womb and the end of the possibility of having another child.
I feel very old and used up right now, very sad and restless and on edge. I cry frequently, for no reason at all. I almost burst into tears in the store today because a guy was staring at me -- Sean and I had to stop halfway through our shopping for me to sit down and get a drink because I was having a hot flash -- and this guy was sitting at the next table. He was young -- in fact, he was just about the kind of guy who would visit suicidegirls.com -- and he stared at me so intently that I felt like a freak and got up to go, even though I still felt hot and nauseated and gross.
I hate the way things are right now. God, I hope I feel better after the surgery...
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[Edited on Jan 09, 2004 6:55PM]
i truly hope you feel better in a very short amount of time following your procedure. it sounds as if you are going through absolute hell right now, i feel so bad for you.
if it makes you feel better, i think you look great in your profile picture.