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One step forward….

I had a rough day yesterday. The kind of day that, by the evening, made not drinking seem like an absolutely impossible task.

I’ll be honest, it was rough, and I really wanted to. I felt like I needed to. The anxiety was just…it was bad. It felt like everything was completely out of my control, and I needed the one thing that I could be in control of…alcohol. I won’t make you sit through this entire post to find out that in the end, I didn’t do it, but even the fact that I felt like I needed to so badly made me feel like a failure.

Let’s back up though. Let’s start with what actually led to it all.

At my doctor appointment yesterday, they talked about delivering me early, possibly soon, because even though baby looks good right now, they are concerned with my symptoms. I’m only 29 weeks right now, so baby boy still has a while to go.

Because my disease (Myofibrillar Myopathy type 6) is progressive, my doctors are concerned that if my symptoms progress too much during pregnancy, they will become more permanent and not revert to their pre pregnancy state. It also becomes more dangerous for baby to stay growing in me if my heart becomes even more insufficient.

So…really…either I need to lie about my symptoms (not ideal or recommended), or I need to prepare for this little buddy to be here at any given time. Which, honestly, I already have been.

After my doctor appointment, I got bad news about my kids therapies. My 5 year old, because insurance has been paying for 2x a week for 3 years, has now only approved him to be seen once a week, despite his test scores have him testing in only the 2nd percentile in OT and similarly in PT. It’s just an insurance thing, and doesn’t reflect his actual progress. It’s like this weird 3 year rule that they have. They want to see the child actually lose progress before they’ll approve 2x a week again.

So, that leaves ME with a fun choice. Allow insurance to dictate my sons care and not let him get the help he does need…or, self pay for 2 visits a week. Paying nearly $200 out of pocket every single week for the next 6 months is….well, it’s disgusting. But it’s what we need to do, so…it really isn’t a choice.

Then my husband and I got into a very small, very short lived argument, which he actually apologized for less than 10 minutes later. So it was really no big thing at all…but it just did not help with the anxiety that I was already feeling.

It all just left me feeling so out of control and panicky. Like there’s just…there’s nothing I can do about any of it. I can’t fix any of it, I can’t make it better…I’m just stuck at the whims of everyone else it seems. Of insurance, of my body, of just this brutally unfair life…it got to me.

But I didn’t drink. (When I say drink, I know I’m not really going to like…drink. What I want is a few sips of a hard seltzer just to feel like I can, or like I’m doing something to feel better. I haven’t, and won’t, actually drink at all right now.) But I am aware that even having a half of a seltzer is a very slippery slope.

After all that, I started feeling really bad and got a horrible headache, which I still have now. I don’t know if things will be okay.

That’s just it.

I don’t know if things will be okay.

I live a life where 4/5 of my family members, myself and my 3 kids, (my poor husband 😢) are medically fragile. And that reality has us living in fragile territory.

My husband was worried about me enough to stay home today, and I’m worried my doctor might want me to go get checked out at the hospital again. I’m very against this…just because I freaking HATE hospitals…but I’ll do what I need to do to keep this little guy as safe as possible.

Even if that means doing things that are hard for me.

At the very least, I’m glad I have therapy tonight. And if nothing else, I’m glad I’ll have the day with my husband home to deal with the kids so I can rest.

I know I need to appreciate the small wins, no matter how small they are. So I know I need to feel good about the fact that I didn’t drink..not even a little bit..even though I really wanted to.

It might make me feel like a failure that I even just wanted to…but that’s ok.

One step forward.

(We’ll just ignore the steps backwards for now.)

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