Sunday, October 24, 2021

Preggo On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown


I don’t know how I am going to survive this. And by “this,” I mean, the next few weeks, months, years. Regardless of whether I keep the baby or give her up (and don’t come at me with your bullshit PC language of “making an adoption plan,” because for the birth mother, adoption is very much about giving up – a piece of your soul, your heart, an entire being you made with your body), the foreseeable future is going to be hell.

I feel like I am on the verge on a nervous breakdown. I wish I could be sedated through the end of the year and in the meantime, the rest of the world, or fate, or God could make the hard decisions for me. Then I could wake up and work on accepting whatever unfolded while I was out.

I am anxious about when I might give birth. I feel like I have a bomb in my body that might detonate at any moment. I fear I do not have the emotional and physical strength to get through it.

I know I should give the baby up – it probably is best for everyone involved – but I feel so deeply sad about it.

I feel so alone. No one fully understands what it is like to live in this limbo day after day. No one else has to shoulder the burden of this decision or its consequences.

Sometimes, when I am calm, I can imagine texting the adoptive couple after the birth and saying, “Come and get your daughter.” How happy that would make them. But then I also imagine looking into the sweet, sleeping face of the baby and knowing I may never see her again. How intense and enduring would that devastation be?

I think about “karma points” (even though I know that’s not how the universe or God work) and wonder how many I would “get” for giving the baby away. Is going through with adoption some twisted form of penance for all the ways I've sinned in the past? Is God punishing me by putting me in a position where I feel forced to consider adoption? I fear He has more bad things in store – like some fatal medical mishap during the birth – and, even worse, that I deserve them.

I am angry at my husband. I feel like his failure to stand up to me pre-pregnancy has brought us to this place. I feel like he abandoned me in this decision. I am furious that he won’t step up, or give up his creature comforts, so that I don’t have to feel like this baby –and its future – are my sole responsibility. Sometimes I fantasize about divorce, if only to break his heart as much as he has broken mine.

I feel resentful toward the adoptive couple. I feel like they got IVF and surrogacy for free – no medical appointments or needles or medications or body-destroying pregnancy or postpartum recovery. They just get a perfect baby handed to them. All they had to do was wait! I feel like they should try harder to entice me to give them the baby. Even if they express gratitude at some point (odd that there hasn’t been more of that thus far, no?), is there enough gratitude in the world that would make this all feel OK?

Women are often told that giving birth is like crossing a narrow, rickety bridge. People can stand on either side and encourage and support you, but no one else can walk those terrifying steps from one side to the other. You have to do it alone.

This feels like that, only so much more precarious. Nobody knows how much this hurts and even if they can approximate a guess, no one is able to – or even offering – to relieve the pain. They are all spectators, waiting to see how the soap opera ends.

Sorry (not sorry) for this word vomit pity party, but this blog exists for nothing if not catharsis. By putting my ugliest thoughts out there, perhaps I can be free of them, if just for a little while...

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