Why does everything feel so fragile?

Does anyone have a cure for gloom and a sense of impending doom? In my heart I know that God is my hope and His sovereignty over my life and all of creation should be enough to dispell these feelings. But, my head won't get it. I keep wondering when something else will go wrong, when the next piece of bad news will arrive. The welfare of my family and myself seems always to be at risk. Millie is currently dealing with a spider bite and some diarrhea. I'm worried that my dietary measures and comforting her is not enough and she is going to become deathly ill. It's usually a fleeting thought, but it's there. My breasts feel lumpy and sore, but that may just be because my milk hasn't completely dried up and I am still returning to unpregnant "normal". Perhaps the bras I'm wearing don't fit right at this point. My mind keeps pinging to words like cancer and masectomy. I have nightmares about something happening to Royce or my parents. I'm fearfull of someone breaking into our house. Why am I so fearfull? I believe that God loves me and is in control of my life. I trust Him to do what is best for me. Perfect love casts out fear. What's wrong with me?
I feel a sense of failure about the pregnancy and about Bryce. Not that I conciously did something wrong, but more that my body failed or just a general sense of failure. I want to give my husband children, and losing Bryce fails at that in a sense. We want children, to raise a bunch of kids together. My reproductive system does not work like it should. My OB/GYN diagnosed me with PCOS due to my irregular periods and other factors. I have to take fertility drugs to ovulate in order to get pregnant. Hopefully someone will discover a cure for my condition, find out how to get my reproductive system functioning normally. Wishing for things doesn't make them happen though. My prayer is that God will enable me to trust him with this and every other area of my life. He loves me and wants my good. Only He knows exactly what that looks like.

Feelings about the death of Bryce and the aftermath

It seems hard to believe that it has been 19 days since I delivered Bryce and held his lifeless body in my arms. I feel like it just happened, and yet part of me feels afraid that things are starting to be too "normal" again. My baby boy is almost all I can think about right now, but I am trying to take care of my daughter Millie and be part of other people's lives as well. I want to stay connected to family and friends, yet I am still hurting and grieving over the loss of my little little child. I don't want to sit around wallowing in self-pity but I don't want to pretend nothing happened. I was pregnant! We were eagerly anticipating the August delivery of our little boy, Bryce. We found out February 22nd that Bryce had died and I delivered him at Norton Suburban Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky on March 2, 2007 at 2:45 a.m. I don't expect other people to be thinking about this as much as I am, nor do I want to only talk about the loss of our son Bryce. But it hurts when people don't acknowledge the fact that I'm grieving. I like to be asked how I'm doing, it's nice to know that people care. Sometimes, I know, people don't know what to say or feel awkward. But saying nothing feels like they either do not care or expect me to be "over it" already. I'm not going to "just get over it" this quickly. Bryce is a real person, that I really knew and that I really miss. I did not just lose the dream of a child, I lost a person! It takes a while to grieve, and I'm an individual who will grieve in my own way and for the length of time that I need to take. I don't want to get over this, I don't even want my breasts to dry up. Perhaps my squeezing milk from my breasts each night is a bit like scratching off the scab of a wound. It hurts, but it holds a morbid fascination for me. It sort of "hurts so good". I'm not ready to let go of the physical feeling of being the mother of an infant. Every part of my being longs to still have my son Bryce, to be able to care for him. For my breastmilk to dry up is to lose the last vestige of my pregnancy and a severing of that link to my son. I want empathy, emotional caring, expressions of real concern. I want comfort and acknowledgement of the personhood of my son Bryce. I want to function, to get my house in order, to be a good mother to my daughter Millie. Yet, in some ways doing that feels like a betrayal of Bryce or like I am trying to forget him. Sitting around moping or crying constantly doesn't seem right either, though. I am a Christian, and so I don't grieve as one in despair. I believe that my son Bryce is in heaven being loved and cared for by our heavenly Father. I believe that I will see my son again and that I will finally be able to hold him in life, the life to come. How should my grieving look right now? What ought I to be doing? Is sleeping and crying and not doing more than absolutely necessary being selfish or is it appropriate? How much should I do in the way of housework, child care, and involvement in regular activities (church, errands, community events, family functions, etc.)? I want to be real, and not put on some act to garner attention or praise for my "bravery". Perhaps that means that some days I will be really productive around the house and some days I will appear to have done nothing of consequence. My relationship with God is deepening and for that I am grateful. I am able to keep the kitchen picked up and my family fed. Millie seems to be doing okay under my care. I'm doing some things to keep up my relationships with family and friends. I think that I could do more to keep up with family and friends though. Housework and unpacking from our move are things that I want to get done. Perhaps I am afraid of "returning to normal" and I need to find a "new normal" that includes the reality that I have two children, one of which is in heaven. I don't want to appear to be trying to forget Bryce nor do I want to wallow in self-pity.

A Poem for Bryce Elliott Hunt

My son, how I longed for you to be,
to see you bouncing on your Daddy's knee!
Momma and Daddy love you so much,
oh to have you feel the tenderness of my touch.

How excited I was to know you were real,
I jumped all over Daddy, it was such a big deal!
When I told my family you were coming,
how happy they all were, such a blessing!

How I long to nuture you and cuddle you close to me,
now I know God in heaven cuddles you for me.
I love you and toward you feel such tenderness,
while I know our Heavenly Father loves you best.

How your Daddy loves you,
and sought earnestly to provide for you.
He wanted to protect you from harms,
and cuddle you sleeping in his arms.

News of you was the best Christmas gift this year,
to your grandparents who wanted to hold you near.
How thrilled they were that you'd be a little brother,
and play with your sister Millie like no other.

Hearing your steady heartbeat was so precious,
and feeling you move so playfull, so curious.
Daddy put his head on my belly while you were still inside,
and at feeling you move his pleasure he could not hide.

You have met your sister Millie,
one afternoon as I held her close to me.
You kicked your big sister
and she squirmed, for you suprised her!

I looked forward to hearing your little sounds coming from your crib,
and wiping who knows what from your little bib.
I wanted to have quiet moments just you and I,
feeding you and hearing your burps, oh my!

I was curious to see your personality unfold,
and seeing if boys are as impish as I've been told!
Daddy's wanted to hear you call his name as he comes home from work,
and to see if you share his very ticklish quirk.

How we'd love to see you smile,
and find ways to make you laugh for just a little while.
It would be fun to see what games you'd play,
and hear what you would say.

Baby Bryce, we are so sad to see you go,
we will miss you so!
How we want to play with you,
and share so much with you too.

Daddy and I know we will see you in heaven,
though we will be separate for a little while we will see you again.
God has you in His arms now,
and one day you will run to ours and we will wait somehow!

~for my son, Bryce Elliott Hunt, born into the hands of Jesus March 2, 2007.