She rattled off a list of complaints a mile long: spots in her vision that come and goes, left sided headaches and jaw pain, numbness around her lips, tingling in her hands and face, weakness in the arms and legs that comes and goes with the tingling, chest pain, palpitations, dizziness….
“You are super anxious, aren’t you?”
“Why is this such an issue right now? What’s going on in your life?” I asked.
Then it came pouring out of her.
Her husband was abusive verbally, emotionally, and physically. They were strapped financially. She was 39 and had a six year old son with a heart defect but more than anything else in the world, she wanted one more baby. A perfect baby. Her biological clock was nearing its end, she could feel it. She did not love this man but felt he was her only ticket to pregnancy.
Time was running out.
Except that being pregnant would make her even more of a target for his abuse. She already knew this because it had all started with her first pregnancy.
How do you make love to someone you hate without losing your sanity?
It was like a poorly written book. The ending was already clear. I wanted to take the pen right out of her hand, to rewrite the story the way it ought to be.
But it was not my story to write…