back to work tomorrow and i can't sleep tonight. it doesn't help that we've been going to bed well after midnight and sleeping til late. it's been lovely, though. even though D had to work between christmas and new year it's felt that i've had a lot of time with him.
i don't want to go back to work. i want to stay at home with D and hide from the world. i wish i could.
the house is a state. i haven't done a single one of the things i planned to do while we were off. except chill for a bit, i guess. there are still piles of stuff piled everywhere. more than there were before.
i was reading frustrated fairy before and she mentioned flylady.net. it's a site/support thing/email list for those who need a bit of help/guidance to tidy up and declutter, i guess. i signed up and have been reading the beginning parts which start with cleaning your sink. so i cleaned my sink (unfortunately can't make it shiny as it's white plastic so i kinda feel like i already failed) and then i cleaned the kitchen surfaces and the bathroom. and got things ready for work in the morning. yay, right?
except that i cleaned the bath. and lifted the hoover. and did some bending and stretching. and then panicked because i'm scared that all that will somehow have hurt the baby.
except that there's a part of me that won't shut up, that's telling me i can't have hurt the baby, because it's dead already.
and i'm just sick of this. the constant uncertainty. the fear and the dread. the not-knowing. the fact that even if i get through my next scan in ten days or so and my 20-week scan at the beginning of feb there are no guarantees that this baby will be alive and well.
i make D say good morning and good night to the baby. i rub my belly. i make sure i don't lie on my back or my front. i obsess about whether my bump is growing or shrinking; panic when it seems smaller than it did the day before. i panicked this morning when i weighed myself and realised i've lost a pound (lb, not £). i do everything i'm supposed to do; don't do anything that's not considered safe.
but there's a voice in the back of my head that talks too loudly for me to ignore. a voice that tells me i can do what i like, but that it's all pointless. that the baby is dead and gone already, that i can't do anything to hurt it now.
i hate the way pregnancy after loss is tainted by fear.
it's not that i want to sleep through this pregnancy. i don't. i want to experience it. i think all i want is a glimpse. july 2011. did we make it? is the baby alive and safe? and if we did, and it is, then i can relax.
but unfortunately, it doesn't work like that.
if i get to sleep now i can scrape 4 hours sleep before work. not enough. not enough at all. but i guess it'll have to do.