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Will You Be Happy Tomorrow?

I’ve had a rough day. I’m edging into my third trimester, so I’ll blame my quarterly hormonal shift for the increased anxiety and irrational fear I’ve been feeling lately. I monitor myself closely and try to take as little medication as I can while still feeling normal and capable of coping with life.

But this week it’s been rocky, and I’m sick of asking myself, “Am I afraid for a real reason or are these cyclical thoughts and this tight feeling in my chest and the pit of my stomach just my brain rebelling against me again?” When I picked up my anxiety meds yesterday, the pharmacist asked me whether I was familiar with them and I started crying. Oh, I’m familiar with them. I was familiar with them for 2 years after Magoo was born and I’ve been familiar with them again throughout this pregnancy and I don’t want to be familiar with them anymore. I want my independent, strong, unbroken brain back.

Walking out of the Safeway, I felt a heavy sadness that physically, mentally, and emotionally I cannot handle doing this one more time. I think 3 may really be the number for us. This is likely our last baby. And it hurts not to feel capable of doing something you’ve always wanted to do. I feel like a woman who’s spent her life training to climb Mount Everest, only to start hyperventilating ¾ of the way up the mountain and have to abandon my mission.

And when I start crying during pregnancy, I just can’t stop. Off and on the leaking continues until all the liquid is gone from my body. I cried last night and while Laylee, being female, is used to emotional outbursts, it hurts Magoo to see me upset. He just kept staring at me with troubled eyes, asking “Why?” over and over again. But I couldn’t really explain to him why I was sad. I couldn’t really even explain it to myself.

Because my hips and pelvis are separating in a way that it hurts to walk and even lie down at night. Because I still throw up periodically and spend a lot of time trying to hold it in. Because I can’t control my own thoughts and mental state. Because I’m not strong enough. I’m just not strong enough.

This morning I woke up and spent over an hour on the phone with insurance companies, billing offices, hospitals and doctors’ offices, only to be lectured on my unwillingness to pay for medical care and told that there was nothing that could be done about the fact that the doctor and his office had completely misled me about whether the services they provided following Laylee’s ER visit were covered by my insurance. I felt belittled. I felt lied to. I felt gypped out of $200 that I could easily have avoided spending if the doctor had been honest about what he was doing and how he would bill my insurance. The crying started again. And Magoo was traumatized.

Again he asked, “Why?” This time it was easier to answer. “I’m crying because some people were dishonest. They lied to me and now they’re blaming me for their mistakes. It’s not nice to lie, is it?”

Magoo agreed. Watching his sad confused face staring at me, I cried harder. He went and got his Big Ducks blankie and draped it over my knees. Then he stood a couple of feet away with a concerned look on his face and his hands over his ears so he couldn’t hear me crying. A minute later he unplugged his ears and asked, “Will you be happy tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I answered and scooped him up into my lap. We cuddled while he kissed me periodically on the knee, on the cheek and on the shoulder. He rubbed my arm.

And I will be happy tomorrow. I’ve decided I will, and I’ve promised this to a young gentleman friend of mine. Things could be worse. I could be without the beautiful children I’ve already been given. I could be without insurance so the doctor would have nothing to mislead me about. My legs could actually fall all the way off, and I could still be yorching several times a day rather than once a week. I could completely lose my marbles and be unable to carry on.

But none of those things are likely to happen and I can be happy tomorrow. Magoo has asked me to be, and it’s very hard to turn someone down when they’re kissing your knees.