Who's my bitch now?

There are some who would call me a control freak. When I hear that term, it brings to mind a person who seeks control merely for the reason of wanting it. No logic, no exceptions, just control, control, control. That's not me. Or then again is a control freak someone who wants it but justifies it by listing multiple reasons aka excuses for wanting control?

I choose to believe I have my reasons.

I like to be in control of my mind and body. That means I've not done drugs and I drink only in moderation. Inhibitions are there for a reason. There's a reason why my sober, conscious mind keeps me clothed and out of harm's way.

I remember meeting with my doula to talk about the birth and at the end of the meeting she asked if there was anything else she should know about me. My husband said "She doesn't like to be out of control of her own body." As if this was a weird thing. Maybe it isn't so common, I don't know, but reflecting on my deliveries with both kids I can understand why her eyebrows were raised after that statement. Labor and delivery are in many ways a big lesson on what you can and can't control. Contractions are definitely your body's way of saying "who's my bitch, now?" You're pushing with or without your conscious consent.

I'm going to have surgery on the 24th, and I've never felt so out of control in my life. I don't know what's wrong with my body, though I can now add a raging UTI/kidney infection to the mix. What doesn't kill me, blah blah, blah.

I'm struggling with the concept that I won't know what they had to do during my surgery until it is over. I know for sure they are doing a laparoscopy to look around at my organs. I know they will do hysteroscopy to look inside my uterus. What I don't know is whether I'm *only* having a D &C or if it will be an ablation, or if I will wake up missing my uterus. I've consented to any and all of the above, but I know only the minimum of what they will do.

I'm churning through these lists of things to do before my surgery - stuff for our business, our home, our kids. So many things to prepare when all I really want to do is sit on the couch and hold my children. Because there is this part of me that is beyond scared. I'm freaking terrified. Terrified, and nobody around me seems to get that.

Before my first surgery, there was a moment in the waiting room with my sister and husband. I was trying to explain that I was nervous, and among other things I hated that I would be in such a vulnerable position and completely unconscious at the same time. It wasn't about trust or lack of trust, wasn't about worrying that something inappropriate would happen - just that I was about to be naked from the waist down, spread eagle in a room full of strangers and asleep. I don't think it's illogical to be uncomfortable with that. My husband and sister started joking about it, trying to lighten the mood, and saying that it didn't matter because I wouldn't be awake for any of it. MY POINT EXACTLY and they totally missed it. It wasn't until I started crying and told them they weren't helping that they grasped just how serious I was.

Now I'm doing it all over again, but the stakes are higher, the anesthesia longer, the potential for organ removal and the fear that I just really don't know what they're going to find in there. Maybe my son left his Red Hot Chili Peppers poster in his womb, I don't know....but I'm worried and no amount of trying to think positive is changing that.

Before I had kids, I didn't worry about what would happen if something happened to me. Now it matters. I mean, yes, my husband would likely miss me a bit. ;) But the thought of missing out on life with my family is mortifiying. I can't control whether or not I wake up from this, what they might find while they're in there, and if I could I'd cancel the surgery RIGHT NOW.

The good news is I'm a little bit over the whole naked in a room full of strangers thing. The bad news is that there is still the anesthetic portion of the evening that has me worried. And, it's not like I'm going in knowing my uterus is coming out. That would be easier for me than wondering. But, here I am. I don't know if my recovery will involve a hospital stay, don't know if I'll have to be away from my babies. I just don't know, and I don't get to be the one to decide.

I hate how awful I feel physically, how tired I feel mentally and I hate that so much is weighting on my mind that I am not even being the mom I want to be because I'm stressed. What if my daughter's lasting memory of me is "Not now, I've got to get this done?:

This is a jumbled, chaotic mess of a post and I'd try to fix it but the fact is it's at least honest even if it isn't good.

If one more person comments on how surprised they are that I haven't lost it, I will probably die from laughter. I'm not ok. I haven't been ok for a while...I'm just treading water with the hope that eventually I will be. Right now, I am not giving my all, my most, or even my best to anything and I hate that. My son is almost 6 months old, and I feel so angry, so robbed, so very very frustrated. He's never seen the best of me, and my daughter doesn't see it as much as she should.

I'd take even the illusion of control back, if I could have it.