I'm so not OK

I thought this was getting easier - that I was starting to deal with this and move forward. I thought that just because I am not crying anymore, that things are looking up. I think I am disillusioned.

I'm nervous of getting depressed again. I don't want to talk to anyone. I'm almost on autopilot. And staying awake is a feat in itself. I feel like a terrible mommy. I managed to take Sophia to the beach this evening. But I didn't manage to play with her. I kind of sat there in a crumpled heap, my mind miles away. It was the most perfect evening - I live in paradise. The ocean was like a lake. Sun setting. Sea birds and a yacht. Perfect. Perfection. Breathtaking. Maybe I have no breaths left to take. The profound beauty and perfection managed to pull me deeper into my sadness. Just over a week ago I was the happiest I've been in my life. On the same beach. In solitude I marveled at the perfection. I breathed it in. It enveloped me. And now it flows through my broken heart like lava. Burning and seething. Looking for any extra crevices to char which might have been left untouched from this sadness.

The sadness seems bigger now. Broader.

I feel that the loss of my child is but a part of it. The other part which is stalking me like a feline hunting in the dark, is this heart disease. My broken heart. I found a forum of mothers who have all had miscarriages whilst taking Atenolol. ARVC. ARVD. Whatever this is that is wrong with me. It has taken up such a large part of my life already. I am not ready to acknowledge that it might have taken away my ability to have another child. That is too big for my mind to fathom. But it is there. Lurking in the shadows and flickering up like hungry flames. Licking at my thoughts tauntingly. Waiting to make the kill.

Will I be able to mother another biological child?

I'm not ready to acknowledge that perhaps I can't. I don't want that taken away from me. I've had enough taken away from me.