On the brink.

I'm fighting this so hard it hurts. I'm screaming inside for any and every reason you could ever imagine.
As of Tuesday I will be induced to begin labor. I'm angry about this. I have gone through weeks of pain because the doctor didn't believe me when I told him I wouldn't dilate on my own. Now he's saying we can induce Tuesday. At that point I asked to hold off til Friday because my oldest son has school, even if that meant bearing through this pain a few more days. It's just more feasible for my family's routine. That's apparently not an option either. I hate feeling so helpless. I hate that he hasn't listened, or even that he has but hasn't been able to do anything about it. I hate that I've gone through weeks of unnecessary pain all because of a stupid fucking insurance claim. Because they apparently won't cover it unless I'm a week past due. I mean seriously? Since when do insurance companies tell the doctors what to do? And now here I am left worrying and trying to plan everything to make sure Anakin is taken care of, that I don't come home to a fucking mess, that my family is cared for. I'm angry that every plan has gone to absolute shit, but then again this pregnancy itself wasn't planned.  Oh, the irony there. And now here we are being induced in absolute horrible timing. I'm also infuriated that this child's father could not possibly give a fuck less about anything but himself. It may not matter to those around me, but it matters to me a great deal. I need to know that they will have things handled and yet again that responsibility falls on me. Everyone keeps saying everything will be alright, but nobody has the words or actions to prove that to be true. Nobody realizes the weight of the world on my shoulders to make sure this goes smoothly for everyone. The little things that add up every day keeping my head in order. Nobody understands the impact of being nine months pregnant, bipolar and OCD. And it isn't their fault. Everyone is so used to me handling everything that they have no clue what the weight of that responsibility feels like to me. I have to make sure everyone else is taken care of first and by the end of it all I'm so frustrated that I'm on the brink of losing it entirely. Which is where I am today. Someone can literally say hi and I envision myself strangling them. I literally have to withhold myself from doing so. I want silence, but the blaring thoughts in my mind refuse to quiet. So here I am, yet again, in the bathroom floor trying to get it out anyway I know how. And I moved to outside, the walls were reflecting my emotions and smothering me. Which makes me angry all over again. I miss running. Pushing myself to the physical limit, sweating out the worry and anger and darkness. Welcoming the physical exhaustion, the wind tearing through my lungs and clearing out the webs of these disorders stuck in there. As of today I'm not even allowed to fucking swim. The toll that takes on me emotionally is indescribable. A big body of water is my refuge when all else fails. There isn't enough hot water in the world to sting away the fury burning within me currently so my 30 minute shower only wasted money, it did nothing to calm me. Everyone is sleeping, so even my favorite past time of tearing apart the house and cleaning out the corners like the inky blackness seeping through my soul is out of the question. I'm losing my grip on this y'all. I used to have help. The St Johns Wart eased the black tendrils of fury burning through my every blood vessel. Nine months without it has proven just how much it truly helps. It's been a very long time since I've been so on edge. The nightmares have returned. Night terrors that I try to hide memories coming back to haunt me. The irritability is a dead give away though. And I see the concern in their eyes. The sideways glances just to make sure I'm still checked in, that I still have a grip on this disorder. The constant "are you okay". The tentative Hello and obvious suppression of anything at all that could set me off on another tirade. The relief in their eyes when my rant isn't directed at them. The pain when I physically and emotionally can not return the love that is so graciously yet cautiously showed to me. I see these things. I hate myself for it. I hate being like this. I'm desperately grasping at straws, begging for mercy from myself. Drowning in my own emotions and praying they see that it's not them, it's me. I'm tearing out my hair in my mind, screaming at myself to knock it off, breaking down at the slightest failure because I know where this path leads and it isn't somewhere I want to be. This isn't me. But that's just it. This IS a part of me. Part of me that I've controlled so long I no longer know how to handle losing that control, even briefly. And I feel myself on that edge. The Dark corners of my soul edging me closer to jumping into the black abyss being bipolar can create out of nowhere. It feeds on every negative you try to forget. Hungrily eating all that is good and beautiful in this universe. The nothingness that screams so loud it'll shatter your soul. I'm crying out for anyone to save me. Save me from myself, pull me out of these emotional rapids. But there's nothing we can do. Only endure until Tuesday. And that knowledge is gut wrenching in a way words could never describe. Top that with having to plan out every little detail of EVERYTHING while completely disrupting your family's newly engaged routine. Every time someone tells me it will all work out I physically restrain myself from spitting in their face. Who will sweep the floors? Fill the ice trays? Wipe down the counters? Will anyone else think to wipe down the bathroom properly? Double check to make sure we have everything we need? Make sure everything is organized so it can be found in the middle of the night, stumbling around in the darkness while half asleep with a newborn crying in your ear? These things may seem frivolous to you, but they're imperative to me. How will I know Anakin is on time for school while I'm hosoitalized? What will happen if he has a melt down like he did today? Can they handle it? Can they ease his fears? I'm his mother. That's my role. I know that this pregnancy is a blessing, deep in my heart I know that to be true. I hold no ill feelings towards my growing, soon to be here, son. But it has been one thing after another since the beginning of this journey and it's becoming harder and harder to bear when I didn't want this in the first place. My anger and resentment there is towards his father. That mother fucker that "wanted to start a family and settle down" didn't even make it to the appointment today. Said he was up all night puking and didn't want to spread it. I don't even trust him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt there. He gets to go on about his daily business gallivanting around and pretending as if he's prince charming while the ENTIRE weight of this pregnancy and child thereafter has fallen on MY shoulders. He gets to put on his front of being the good guy (yet do absolutely NOTHING except respond 'k' to the message letting him know his child will be born Tuesday). It's me and those around me dealing with every emotional/physical/financial issue that has risen. Then when he gets the results of the paternity test (that he expected ME to arrange) he'll just swoop right in and be Oh so fucking let me shove it down your throat wonderful. He doesn't have to deal with taking care of our child those first few months. No, he gets to wait until mediation because he CHOOSES to. He gets to stop by randomly to see his son, because I'm trying to be fair. Drop in, coo a little and oretend to be a daddy, then leave and go back to his life. We get to deal with the responisibility of caring for this child. And don't get me wrong, I'm beyond overjoyed that the Lord blessed me with another child. I embrace that responsibility with everything in my heart. I know that the joys of little William Clay will far outweigh anything else. His father though? I hate him. I despise his very existence. I can't blame (though blame sounds negative, I can't find other words) him entirely for this pregnancy but I have no doubt he wanted this to happen thinking it would somehow bring us back together. He hinted at such himself. The thought is sickening. The thought of him literally makes me physically sick. He hasn't been here at all. Made no effort to be any part of this pregnancy other than showing up to doctor appointments. Let's not forget me being cussed out because originally I didn't have insurance and they didnt reimburse him for the first few appointments. Yet he'll get to reap all the benefits of being "daddy" because I can't bring myself to lie to my child. He's no more a father than the dirt on my shoe. I seriously wish the ass would just walk away. The man that HAS been here through it all and DESERVES to be called Daddy is instead taking a back seat out of respect for what is "right". Let us raise this child because we're obviously the ones that truly care. Walk away and continue living your lie of a life. Don't drag my child through this. I already feel sorry for my child that my own naive decisions caused him to have such a lying, manipulative jerk as a father. That is my only true issue with this pregnancy. I burn in anger that I will never allow myself to let my child know these things. He'll learn on his own in his own time. I pray to God that he grows with the ability to see the truth beneath the facade his father puts on. But even I fell for it, if only for a short while. Even still, with all of my anger burning within, I pray that things work out in the best interest of my child. I have grit my teeth and tried to be as reasonable as possible. I can honestly say that. It may not be getting us anywhere, but when the day comes and my child asks, I can honestly say I've tried my hardest to be fair. That small triumph is doing little to ease my fury tonight though. An hour into writing and I'm still burning within, though not as on edge as earlier. I believe I could now face humanity without acting like a savage. All I can do right now though is ask my support group to bear with me at this point. Hold me when I cry, but silently. I do not need your words, I need your presence. Take my anger and tears with a grain of salt because I promise it is not truly directed at you. Genuinely want to help, but don't let it tear you apart if there's nothing you can do. The problem lies within my chemical/hormonal imbalance, not your actions. Your presence during my suffering means more than you'll ever know. Understand that I know things will work out, but that I reserve the right to lose my shit every now and then. See the struggle in my eyes, but know that relief is around the corner. And for the safety of my sanity I pray you fill the damn ice trays and wipe the hair out of the sink. And yes, even I laughed there. But while you're at it, I would be eternally grateful if you also swept the floors ;) Those of you that love me so deeply, I know you are reading this.  I see your love. Even when it seems hopeless, know that it helps. Know that even in the midst of this emotional turmoil I am currently listening to Cher 'You Haven't Seen The Last Of Me' and my heart is singing every word faithfully. We will get through this as we have gotten through so much else. It will be alright.

My little one.

I can not get it through my head that he started school today. We've been preparing for weeks. He has all his school clothes, his back pack, his supplies, even his own agenda. But it never really hit me until we walked through the doors this morning. The fear that struck through me is unlike any I have ever faced. My baby. My first born. Wee little one of seven pounds five ounces. It was inevitable that one day he would grow up. He would step out on his own and start forging his own journeys. I just wasn't ready for this so soon. He held my hand as we entered the classroom, said hello to his teachers, and in an instant grew inexplicably. He found his own cubby, his own seat, then set about exploring his classroom. I am now the proud, absolutely terrified mother of a preschooler. From this day on there will be three hours Tuesday-Friday where I can't protect him. There will be other children his age, and new adults in his life. What if they are mean to him? Will he be made fun of because of his glasses? Will he find the strength in himself to say Hello and make a new friend rather than hiding behind my leg? Who will cling to my skirts as I'm trying to make lunch? Who will jump from behind the couch in an attempt to scare me? What on this earth could possibly fill the void left by merely a few hours absence of my little big man? What if he doesn't like the food? Or he gets bored and decides to act silly crazy as he so often does at home? Will he miss me while he's there? What if he likes them better than me? What if he doesn't want to come home? I so badly want to encourage him on this new path, yet I also want to snatch him up in my arms and never let go. A mothers love is unconditional. It is also very selfish. In my heart of hearts I know that he will do great. He's intelligent, witty, fearless, full of laughter and eager to explore. I can't help but worry though. Today as I shut that classroom door and forced myself to walk home I left not just a piece of my heart, but a large part of my soul. For four years he has been my every reason to breathe, to grow and to move forward. Now he's venturing onto his own path and I feel helpless as I sit back and watch my baby boy grow up. And the underlying fear behind it all: what if he decides he doesn't need me anymore?

If you're reading this, please read from a place of love and understanding in your heart.

Well, just a little earlier I said I wasn't writing in this for a bit, but I decided it's slightly easier than writing everything out by hand.  Especially after three pages front and back of a hand written portion. So here is what has been on my mind:

My home: is a whirlwind of projects that need to be done. A never ending list that only I seem to see, probably because of my inability to leave well enough alone when it comes to organization and cleanliness. I am extremely detail oriented and it shows through my pages upon pages of to-do lists in my head. I stopped writing them out a while back because it was overwhelming for those around me. But I need an outlet. I feel as if I'm driving myself crazy over what seems like silly things to other people. They're important to me though, even if I don't quite understand why. How can I ask others to understand though if I don't? I guess acceptance is the main thing I seek, but that's hard to find when you're the project oriented crazy ocd pregnant lady. I don't even know how to begin asking for that acceptance without understanding first. I need the help of my support group and don't know how to tell them what I need exactly. Mostly because I'm not quite sure what I need. Some days I need space to work through it on my own, other days I desperately cru out inside wishing they would take the initiative to complete something without my having to ask, there are even days I want them to stay out of my way but at least ask me if I need help.

Cancer: the biopsy is getting closer and closer the farther along I get in this pregnancy. It's terrifying to me as I've mentioned before. Those feelings are amplifying and everyone keeps brushing it off as if it isn't a possibility until it becomes a reality. The possibility is very much so real to me though, and the repercussions that would follow in the aftermath if it is cancer. I have no outlet for those emotions either as I feel it would unduly stress others to talk about it at this time.

Custody of baby William: lets face it here, I was extremely unwise and naive in my perception of his father. Now I am constantly worrying about the welfare of this baby emotionally. I am bringing a child into a very unstable environment where his father and I are concerned. We can't seem to reach any agreements and though I am trying my hardest to be civil and fair, I find myself wishing I had lied to him and told him this child wasn't his. Given my own past, I can't do that to my child though. He deserves to know who is father is, no matter how difficult the situation is to deal with. I feel guilt for bringing my baby into such a ridiculous facade of decency. In my own personal opinion his father is childish, not at all ready for this child or the responsibility he will find himself facing soon. You can't sweet talk, lie or manipulate your way out of caring for a child. Though I wouldn't feel any remorse if he chose to give up his parental rights and walk away, I would forever harbor guilt where our son is concerned. He deserves better than the situation he it's being born into and my being naive about his father is a large part of the reason he is being born into such a situation. I can only pray that his father grows quickly and does what is best for our son, regardless of our personal differences. Please allow me to clarify here. I don't think his father is a bad person per say. I think he often had good intentions, but went about things horribly and then his character turned south when things didn't work out his way. That is why I am still fighting (against everyone around me as well) to handle this as fairly as possible. Do I resent him? Yes. But I still believe that he will do his best when it comes to our son IF he can work past his immaturity. I am not saying I'm prefect either, but I am working on my own faults in order to be fair. I triple think every decision to make sure it's what would be best for my kids and not just something I want out of spite or ill feelings towards him. I believe he may be trying to do the same, but I currently see no results from his efforts if there are any.

Country Boy: we've been back together for six months now. I can honestly say I learned a great deal about myself and grew exponentially in our separation, but I've grown and learned even more since deciding to "join ranks" again. I've come to realize my own fears and insecurities and the problems they created that led to me leaving. Not to say he's perfect, but we're definitely good for each other and our relationship is now a healthy one that continues to grow stronger every day.

Life: I am struggling internally. Emotional hurricanes are sweeping through me daily along with the constant babble of the issues mentioned here. Most days I am beyond drained without the words to express the emotional turmoil I'm feeling inside and it seems nobody notices the light slowly fading from my eyes because they have their own concerns to deal with. I feel enough like a burden with all that people are doing to help me, but honestly what I need most is for someone -anyone- to realize that I am NOT okay. I need emotional release and currently have no healthy outlets other than this blog and the words I fill it with. Sometimes, I wonder if even this makes a difference. If one of my crew were to read it, would they understand? Or would they lash out feeling hurt that I don't have the actual words to SPEAK what I so intensely feel. Sometimes a woman just needs an understanding compassionate hug to hold her together while she falls apart. It seems silly to ask for that though, so I'll improvise with writing all those jumbled words here. This also goes hand in hand with the fear that opening up that kind of vulnerability will make those around me think I am weak and need constant emotional care. The reality of the matter is that I generally have my emotional ducks at least swimming together, if not all in a row. Sometimes though, a few choose to wander off and I end up here again ;)

Anywho, I'm going to attempt sleep now. I know that this all seems a bit drab and dark, but please be assured that there is still plenty of light and blessings in my life. This is merely a place I can release the dark. I choose to share the light with those around me rather than burdening them with the dark moments/thoughts/worries/fears. Sweet dreams world.

Google fail.

So, as this biopsy looms closer this cancer shit had been on my mind. And to ease my fears I decided to look up symptoms of cervical cancer. Fail.
Pain during/after sex
Irregular spotting
Constant discharge
Lower back pain

All of these are things I've written off over the past few years. Scar tissue can cause pain during/after sex (except apparently mine healed). Ovarian cysts can cause irregular spotting and discharge (though it should only happen when cysts are irritated). Messed up muscle can cause back pain (though the dull constant ache is apparently abnormal). Way to freak yourself out Sarah...