So having opened up Pamdora's Box in my head, I suppose I'd better address some of the monsters crawling out of the trap door....
Umm. I supposed to be venting here about all the stuff that's swimming around in my head. Except it's all really abstract. I've been a miserable git today, but I'm not sure if the flashing stuff in my head is because I'm fed up with being in pain or if it's actually stuff to deal with. If I'm concentrating on something, it's ok, but as soon as I stop my mind decides to go back to my 'big vent' post and chucks up these stupid flashbacks of stuff that happened. I have no control over it and it's driving me a bit loopy. I was driving home and lost concentration for a sec - all I could see was being back at the flat and some of the arguments (loose term that... I never shouted), I keep trying to work out why I used to go after him when he sulked. What idiot, knowing someone has a temper, sees someone sulk and follows them to apologise and make things better. It still plays on my mind that I must have just wound him up by not just leaving him alone. But then sometimes I wasn't near him so.. who knows.
Since getting stuff out it's dawned on me why I've been so desparate for another baby - and the reasoning behind it just backs up not having one (other than i'm intensely crap at being pregnant). It won't solve the guilt I harbour about the past. It won't stop the termination from being true, and it won't take away the guilt that I have because I didn't stand up for myself, it won't make up for me neglecting thing1 when she was tiny (DH took over as I fell to pieces and couldn't bond with her.... ), it won't take away the image of being in labour with her - bits of that have come back now - I can remember sobbing hysterically in pain as a woman tried to put a sensor on her head (via a not very dialated cervix), it won't stop me from having gone into labour early with thing2 and wondering if it was something I did that caused it, it won't stop me remembering being left in the labour ward - the only one without a baby and unable to move after the c-section (the morphine wasn't THAT good) and not allowed to see her, it won't take away watching her tiny little body covered in tubes only to be wheeled back off because I was disturbing her, it won't change the fact that I remember every time that she stoped breathing once we were home and DH or I had to revive her while she was going grey, it won't make me a better mother, it won't make me less emotional and more of the hippy type that I aspire to, it won't make up for the weird relationship I had with my mum as a child (although we're trying to make up for it now - it's bizarre being affectionate now and saying I love you when we didn't for 25 years). It won't change any of these things. But knowing that I pin all on these things of doing it properly the next time, at least means I know my reasons are wrong, understandable, but ultimately wrong. (having re-read this I can just picture the german-style psych "so ze problem it began wiz yur muzzer" - oh dear.)
I'm just fed up of remembering. I was happy enough without dealing with this.
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