I was in a car accident one week ago. I was leaving work, was at an intersection, and I felt the sudden jolt of my car jumping forward, crashing into the car in front of me, then being rear-ended a second time. I did a quick assessment of my body. It seemed okay. I nervously pulled over to the side, stepped out of the car and immediately felt my stomach contracting. Luckily, there was a police officer driving behind the lady who hit me.
I waved my hand and told her that I was pregnant and needed a paramedic. After we all exchanged information and such, I drove myself down the street to the hospital. My boyfriend met me there. I was sent to Labor and Delivery to be checked out. Adrenaline was still pumping through my body, so the effects of the accident were still setting in.
After a few hours on the monitor, we had a full ultrasound down and the baby was perfectly healthy. The technician even told us that she had a cute nose. She was moving around, kicking happily away. I was discharged and went home.
The next morning, however, my neck and back were killing me. I’m a behavioral therapist and I work with little kiddos. So especially since my accident last week, I can’t work. It is almost physically impossible.
I start disability this coming Monday.
Meanwhile, my anxiety is relentless. When I’m away from my boyfriend, I can’t help but worry if he’s okay, if he’s been in an accident, if he’s dying. I’m actually terrified of losing him. I’m scared of something happening to me.
I want my baby here so I can hold her and make sure she’s okay. I’m scared of something happening to her before she’s born.
I’m getting anxiety attacks more frequently. My emotions are all over the place and I burst into tears at the drop of a hat. The only moments when I feel okay and able to breathe are when all three of us are together.
I think I’m feeling residual anxiety from the accident, too. A car came to a stop behind me this morning and I braced myself and screamed a little. I’m on edge. It wasn’t even THAT bad of an accident. But it was my first one, ever.
My abuser turned 50 on Monday. My grandmother (who is my mom, really, since she raised me) and my aunt (abusers mother) went to his 50th birthday party. Who even attended his birthday? I have no fucking clue.
I went over to my grandmas house yesterday to go shopping for a baby present since she won’t be here for the shower next month. The party favors were on the table. My grandma knows about the abuse.
It really aggravated me to see them on the table. He just gets to go on living with no repercussion.
I think I’ll go to sleep now
PS- there was a highlight of my weekend, though. BF and I went to an NFL game this past Sunday. It was my first NFL game ever, so that was really fun actually. I really enjoyed being a part of something that he’s so passionate about.