A squandered opportunity

Today I had a glorious 3 hour window of opportunity. My aversions were minimized and I actually felt relatively good about eating. No nausea, just a feeling like a normal person for once. I was at a birthday party for one of A's friends when it hit. So I ate real food and felt fine. I enjoyed myself and it was great.
I watched food network without gagging. I made plans for a dinner party I will be attending next week and actually looked forward to the food that would be served.
Then the panic set in. Just like always. I flashed back to my first miscarriage where I woke up one morning and felt absolutely fine. I figured since I was 12 weeks along that it was just the end of morning sickness and the beginning of the "golden trimester." What my naive little self didn't realize was that my baby had died and within a week's time I would be experiencing the most horrifying trauma of my life...delivering my dead fetus.
Even though I had just seen little baby bean dip on Wednesday growing just fine and looking like a little gummy bear with a perfectly beating heart, I still couldn't get the fear out of my mind. What if my baby is dead again? How could I live through the loss of another? My fear was starting to build and I began to feel helpless.
I remembered the bone crushing pain of months and months of blame and asking myself what I did wrong to make my baby die. Was it the beer I had before I knew I was pregnant? Was it the hot bath I took the day I took my pregnancy test? I didn't know what had happened and I thought that there must've been something I could've done to prevent it.
With A's pregnancy it felt like I was keeping him alive through my sheer will alone. I paid attention to every symptom obsessively. I was terrified of the times when I didn't feel him moving. It was not a fun time for me to say the least.
The day he was born was a relief for me because I had brought him safely into the world. A live baby. I did it, finally.
I resolved when I found out I was pregnant with baby bean dip that I wouldn't follow that path again. It was stressful and unproductive and now that I had A I didn't have to prove myself again, right?
I slipped up today. I fell down again for a frightening afternoon into the abyss of terror that comes with me having to give up control. I felt sheepish as I was puking my guts out in the toilet after dinner tonight. I had wasted a few precious hours of normalcy with my obsession.
I don't know if I can ever do anything that will put my history out of my mind completely. But suddenly in this helplessness I found a measure of peace. Because really, I am helpless and powerless in this. I have no control over whether something bad happens. Yes, I take precautions and do what I can (take prenatal vitamins, see a doctor, etc.) but if something really is going to happen there is nothing I can do to stop it.
So I should just accept it.
And let go.