I have my doctor's appointment tomorrow. My check in. It was supposed to be my 36 week check up. But it's not. Not anymore.
I'm terrified of the walking into that building - even though there are already plans to bring me in a side door to avoid the pregnant mamas and babies. I'm terrified of sitting on that table that I've sat on so many times before. I'm terrified of seeing my doctor. I'm terrified of what she'll be able to tell me about Lydie's death. I'm terrified of what she won't be able to tell me about Lydie's death. I'm terrified that there will be answers. I'm terrified that there will be no answers. I'm terrified to learn that there was something I could have done
differently, something that could have prevented this.
(Even though our
counselor told us yesterday that she has worked with many families in
this situation and never, not once, was it because of something the
mother did or didn't do. I am repeating that to myself so often right
I'm terrified she'll tell me I'm healing well. I'm terrified that she'll tell me that I'm not. I'm terrified of her examining me.
After Ben, I didn't care about that at all - after that experience, my doctor could do whatever she needed and it didn't bother me at all. Now I feel violated. I don't want to be touched.