We move.
For about 3 days I’m starting to feel content. Picking up some of the pieces. Some. Slight optimism. But no. I’m still not doing well. Panic attacks. Insomnia.
I am not functioning. I haven’t been functioning for months.
I lost two babies. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I go to a new OBGYN. I like this guy. He’s sympathetic. he’s sweet. I think he and I will get along just fine.
Next stop: hemotologist (how the heck do you spell that?) to check why the heck this keeps on happening.
I feel better for two days.
And then – not.
Every time I scrape my way up a wall I slide right back down.
I am stuck. Everything is stuck. I am shattered.
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