I have been wanting to write, but I just can't seem to this week. I'm having a really hard week. Monday, I had my 23 week ultrasound-everything looked great. Jackson is measuring perfect, and his heart rate was great, etc. Although I love the ultrasounds, I also find they make me really anxious. Really anxious. And although this lady was nice, she wasn't the tech we really like and I felt like she kinda freaked us out. She wanted to get him to turn around, he was facing backwards. So, she did a ton of jabbing on my stomach saying things like "this usually turns them" and "oh he's stubborn.". Of course this completely freaked C out and he thought that this meant something was wrong. He'd been kicking and moving all around all morning, so, I knew he was fine, but then I started to get freaked out. I mean the poor guy was trying to rest! I asked the peri when he came in and he said something to the effect of that "they do what they want, and they certainly don't always cooperate", but I was still a little nervous. He's going to see me again at 25 weeks for another ultrasound, because I asked. I lost Wyatt at 25 weeks 4 days and I know I'm going to need all the reassurance I can get that week. I went to my regular OB after that, rather uneventful appointment, all is well.
Then, Monday night, C and I started talking about the renovations at one of our buildings. We have a new tenant moving in and everything has to be ready by the 1st of October. I'd just gotten the run down from the contractor and it sounded like things were going great. I relayed the progress to C and he started flipping out (he's always a lot more negative than I am. I assume the best, him, the worst.), he thought that things should be further along, etc. Somehow this escalated into a fight and I ended up having a panic attack. I'm in charge of the renovations, but I started to think "oh god, i've f'd everything up!", etc. Then I realized that really, I'm worried about the baby. I'm scared to death. Scared to death. I don't know if I hadn't really realized how close I was to when I lost Wyatt, or if I was trying to ignore it, but all of a sudden it hit me like a tone of bricks. And damn it, I started to freak out. C and I talked about it for awhile, but I still couldn't sleep.
I am so afraid. Every moment, it's in the back of my mind. I'm afraid to do anything like I did those days right before I lost Wyatt. Fridays make me sick, because, it was a Friday I realized he was gone. If poor Jackson doesn't kick for awhile, I start to panic. I had a freakout today, because I hadn't felt him in hours. He wouldn't kick, I tried to do the doppler, but I couldn't find is heartbeat. I started to cry, and panic. C was mowing the lawn and somehow, I tried to relax myself, went and drank some juice and lay down. It took quite awhile, but he woke up and kicked. Of course he's been kicking away all night, now.
Then tonight, I realized that we aren't just coming up on the time when I lost Wyatt, but Saturday, the 18th, it will be 18 years since my dad died. 18 years. And my sisters, brother, and I are finally spreading his ashes. My grandmother had them in her closet for 18 years, and now that she has passed away, we can finally lay him to rest. We've chartered a boat and we'll be scattering him at sea, which is what he wanted. This is intense. 18 years, and I still miss him every day. And of course, Wyatt was born on my dad's birthday (what are the chances of that????) so, I feel their spirits are very close. No wonder I'm freaking out.