You Got THIS

It's all a mess.

I have to mail out the documents to prove who I used to be and who I currently am, just because my son's birth certificate arrived with a typo. At least it conveniently arrived with a letter acknowledging the typo and the steps I need to take to fix it.

I need to bang my head against a wall.

I need to call our insurance to inquire which local dentist offices accept our insurance because I need to take care of myself too. That's a hard thing to remember. And after that, I will find an eye doctor. I really can't tell if my eyes are just tired all the time, or bloodshot from crying, or what, but I should get those things checked out.

I have to call the social worker and find a way to get Son signed up for a disability program. I also have to ask her if I can keep getting vouchers for $5 off my meals from cafeteria since I am still a pumping mom. Trust me, I am not starving in the hospital, and all the snacks from friends and family are hugely appreciated, but surviving on lemon bars and mac & cheese packets are not gonna help with losing weight.

These days, sometimes even something as simple as a $3 cafeteria salad is a huge treat to myself. And honestly, sometimes I don't even feel I am deserving of that. In a sit down conversation with the geneticist, while talking about what might "be wrong" with my baby, I was entirely honest; because I've always felt this was my fault, and I was prepared for her to tell me, "Yes, Son's condition was YOUR fault."

I told her I didn't know I was pregnant until about 6 weeks in (I somehow felt pregnant, but the tests kept saying negative).
I told her I drank alcohol during that time.
I told her I cleaned the chicken coop just weeks before his birth and fell hard on my belly.
I told her I played bingo in a smokey casino.
I told her that my seat belt had been yanked too tight, and that I'd hit the shopping cart when a wheel jammed, or anything and everything that could somehow make this my fault.

She told me, "No, his defect was NOT YOUR FAULT. It's chromosomal."

Yet I still don't know how to get past this feeling of guilt. Babies don't just have these issues! And it's not fair my son to get played these cards!

*bangs head against wall again*

I need to work on myself a bit. And I am about to write another post but it's on an entirely different subject so I'd like to keep them separate.

And no joke, there is a man sitting on the computer RIGHT next to me, LITERALLY 10 inches from me, and he is jamming to sound track of Beauty and the Beast.

*bangs head against wall again*