Everything has been mostly fine, up until this morning when I realized I had to face my biggest fears in 7 days. Then the anxiety started up majorly. You know, the racing heart, feeling like you are suffocating feeling. 7 short days. Most of the time, I feel like everything will be okay, But then I remember the words of my dr to my husband...it rings in my ear contantly....."this is bad situation, really bad". What happens if my bad/really bad goes bad, really bad in surgery. I hate being in this situation, especially as it gets so close.
My dad was over yesterday and yelling at me for having Doug take off 3 weeks after the surgery. Because of all that potential lost money. He has spent enough of this last month yelling at me for having Doug take FMLA and working less hours so that he could stay close to home....my dad reasoned that he could "help". His version of helping includes critically assessing everything we do and letting us know how much he disapproves. Every day he mentions that I need to send the kids to school, like I should put them in the car today and just drop them off. Oh, and I desperately need to get a job once Ansen is here...I got the degree and now its time to do what I am "supposed" to be doing. And of course, his newest that Doug doesn't need to take 3 weeks off. 1 week is more then adequate. I am sure I will find loads of other people that are willing to help dress my 12+inch incision I will have on my abdomen, who will help me empty the urine bag I will mostly likely have from a 2 week catheter, who will help me take care of the kids, help with Ansen, help with whatever aches and pains I am having, help get me to my appts, etc. No problem. I have people just LINING UP right now to do that so that Doug can get back to his "most important" job...working.
I love my Dad so much and I know he means well, but most of his loud and brazen suggestions about what we are doing right and wrong with our lives are money based. I am one big money making failure in his eyes. Money makes the world go 'round, you know. Forgive me for caring very little about money right now. I tried to keep it together and just ignore it, but I wanted to scream "what good will money be to me if I don't make it through this surgery". Money can't buy me or guarantee my life. Money doesn't control everything. Money doesn't buy happiness or joy either. Oh, and I haven't yet heard of a way that money could buy me or Doug or my children's souls a way into Heaven either btw. I am SOOOOO sick of hearing about money and how we are failing at life bc we don't have loads of money pouring out our pockets. Our mortgage is paid. Our bills are getting paid, slowly but surely. Tonight's call from my Dad that Doug should work basically every day up to delivery was just another slap in the face to me. Can I just enjoy a few days of Doug being home (in between him working, which he IS still doing), so that I can spend and enjoy these special days with my entire family together before I have to face this nightmare head on?? I don't want or need the daily phone calls asking when Doug is working and WHY he isn't working tomorrow....or any other days...thankyouverymuch.
Anyways, enough with that rant. The other night, I got really freaked out. I woke up in the middle of the night and I "think" I was in the middle of a dream, bc I thought there was a really tall bookcase in the corner with a black shadow sitting at the top-I assumed a man or person. Of course, then I shook myself awake, and there is NO bookcase in that corner to begin with. But then the freaky part. Kylie suddenly sat up (yes, she and all the kids are sleeping in our room right now, on mattresses on the floor, bc we haven't made the time to put together all their bunk beds that are in pieces in the other bedroom)...and she pointed to the SAME corner and said "mommy, do you see that BIG bug over there". I reassured her that there was no bug in the corner and she laid back down and went to sleep, but it really freaked me out. Then I was laying down, starting to drift back asleep when I heard someone say (I am assuming it must have been on the radio???) that "everything is going to be okay". And I feel asleep with a small feeling of reassurance. Of course, now I am trying to think WHAT song it could have been....I don't know what to think?
Today I went in for my NST....Ansen was asleep the beginning and his heart rate kept dipping down into like 115 and it was kinda worrying me, but then he woke up more and started having some good accelerations and his baseline heartrate was up to 130, instead of 120. Then I went into the office to get my steroid shot. As soon as I walked in there, I started feeling dizzy and my heart started racing. It just hit me all the sudden AGAIN that in 1 short week, my dr will be attending my surgery and finding out for himself how involved this all turns out to be. I was looking at the other pregnant people in that office...and thinking how lucky they are not to have to face this kind of delivery (since I am the only one in the high risk hospital office with this right now, I am safe to assume that.)
I am doing my best to walk forward bravely, knowing that God is certainly with me in my journey. But as strong as the faithful part of me is, the human part of me is still absolutely terrified. I want to drag my feet (or maybe kick and scream and run away is a better analysis), but I know I can't. It's like standing at the top of a 20ft building...oh, and the building is on fire, burning bit my bit. I am now on the ledge, and altlhough I have been promised that everyone will be trying their best to be at the bottom with a safety net...there are no guarantees the net WILL save me. I have felt God's love around me, and it certainly is the only thing that will help me make this final jump....or leap of my journey. But I am still scared. I can't shake that fear, bc every day I have all these reminders around me....all these special little people, and my loving husband, and the sweetly singing birds, and the hot sun and cool breezes, and the beautiful world around me....of what I could potentially lose at the end. Maybe it would have been easier if I had been hospitalized the last few weeks, bc then I would have been a bit more numb to the joy all around me.
This is definately the most difficult part of my journey so far. Its easy to talk the talk, but when it comes down to physically walking that walk, its just so incredibly hard...and humbling. Can you imagine how Jesus must have felt, on the last leg of HIS journey, dragging His own cross, walking off towards His own certain death, humiliated every step of the way. And to think that I am having a hard time dealing with THIS??? His faith was so strong and so true. I am trying to trust and embrace my faith, but I am embarassed that I am not braver and stronger...and that I still can't help but cry too often...and worry too much about my Earthly life. *sigh* Its just so hard....and we are only hours away from making this only six days til my surgery. Just wish there was a fear switch I could simply/easily *turn off*-how much easier that would make this....
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