7
It seems as if I am always blogging on a Tuesday. And I guess just by proxy, it'll be this way until I am at work on a Tuesday, which so far, I have no idea when that'll be, until I get my November schedule anyway.
Coincidentally, its been 7 weeks. I am showing signs of ovulation. I won't get into that. But its a good thing. But also of course, like everything else in my life, leaves that same bittersweet taste in my mouth. It reminds me of how things taste after you vomit. I hate to refer and compare it to that, but that is the feeling the pit of my stomach gets, whenever I think about certain things. And its not certain things you'd think. Not when I think of her, in general, but just specific things. Like I remember the other day, thinking about laying on the OR table. IV in my right wrist. Drape up over my chest. Monitors beeping, the sound of my own heart rate fluctuating up and down with movement or nerves. The soft and low tones of Dr. Sink and Dr. Murphy and the techs, nurses, and other staff communicating back and forth with each other, so's not to alarm me since I would likely know what they were saying. The soft sounds of my husband's sniffles in my left ear. The cool, harsh blowing of the nasal cannula in my nose. My somewhat swimmy head from laying on my back and from the fentanyl they pushed. My numb legs that felt like they were still spread eagle, as that was the position they were in when they finally went totally numb. My eyes, burning with tears, my throat full of a giant lump of emotion just waiting to jump out as a primal scream full of terror, sorrow, and anger. How warm she was when they laid her in my arms, like a perfect scene, except for there were no breaths, no rise and fall of her chest, no screaming, lusty cry. But it wasn't all of that stuff, or even one of those things. I just had a flash back of the OR and my stomach churned. Like I could vomit up the day's food and drink in an instant. My head spun, my vision went tunnel, and a shiver came over me. I had the sudden urge to run away, just get in my car and drive until I ran out of gas, then get more gas, and get more gas until I drained our bank account dry and just sit wherever I got to. Hopefully somewhere with a beach. I was at work though. My responsible head wouldn't let me do that. So I clenched my teeth and went on about my business. I feel like I have a severe case of PTSD. I think of, hear of, smell something, and go straight back and a flood emotions pour in like someone bombed the dam of my brain and heart, and I feel like I could crash and burn immediately. Sure, smells and sights take us back every day, but not like this. I probably have a severe case of a LOT of things, truthfully. But, I will never take the time to get them addressed because I will never sit in front of a shrink and spill my guts.
My mind always fast forwards when I think of the OR. To the next baby I hope that I am blessed with. I dream of going in to the hospital, getting hooked up to all the monitors and hearing that sweet heart beat thumping away (because I didn't get any of that this past time, there was no sweet heart beat to hear anymore) and getting wheeled back to the OR, excited but worried, flashing back to my previous experience will take some of the glory away I'm sure... but excited overall, being laid back, strapped down, prepped, and cut open, and a few minutes later holding a warm, screaming, needy, precious baby in my arms. And that high feeling you get after delivering a baby, I even got it just a little after delivering Emma, even though things were as they were. I won't mind the IVs, the loopy meds, the sticks and pokes and prods, as I will have a precious new life beside me in a bassinet or in my lap, or draped over my shoulder, burping from a good meal, added to the already 2 precious ones I have created already. And I think, time can't go by fast enough for me. I've never been one to wish away my days, except in the winter. Or when I'm miserable. Even then, I usually find a reason to convince myself that I'm being irrational. Like, Shade is only little once, and I better not wish my days away with him. And I don't, I just fear that if I don't fast forward just a bit, that I will lose my mind eventually.
Its a nice fall day. Overcast, but filled with colors and leaves and a cool breeze. There's chili in my crock pot. I am going back and forth between laundry, cooking, taking care of Shade (aka bottomless pit today) homework, photo editing, and blogging. Of course there's always 1 thing missing. Normally I'd be soaking this time up, as it is perfect this time of year... and I would even be enjoying cocoa or coffee on my front porch (which is covered in huge totes of winter clothes that I have to address next week or this weekend getting into the closet and getting the summer clothes out), but I just have no desire to be outside right now. I'll let fall pass, and winter be in full swing, and my depression will ease up at some point hopefully and I won't be able to enjoy outside, on account of the weather. But... there is nothing I can do about that. Once again we are back to the fact that I am wasting my days, by not enjoying them, but again... there is not much I can do to help that. I can feel myself slowly getting better. Better than last week anyway. But, of course I will never be 'better'. This is not a sickness or a condition. This is a lifetime club that nobody wants to be in, that I have signed up for. Its as slow as molasses on a winter day, but I have a wave of comfort over me this week that I have not had the past 2 weeks. I'm sure I will regress shortly. It may be today, it may be tomorrow, it may be in a couple hours. I don't know, but that's how it goes. Slowly but surely. How I wish things were different. I kind of wish I could just block the entire experience out of my mind, but then I would be blocking my newest child out of my mind. I would never and could never do that. I just long for the old me, the normalcy, the optimism to return.
I was having a conversation at work Friday with Chris Johnson, a super nice person who works patient access. He is also someone who goes around and does evangelism. He has some really good stories that have happened in his life and made the comment that all the bad things that happened to him, or to other people, if they can use that experience to minister or to help just ONE person... just ONE, that it was all worth it. I hope I can use my story to help others. I know I have helped a few people in the ER already (the preggos, they flock to me) and a few of my patients whom I have told about my situation since it came up in conversation, have told me some stories, and given me hope. I've had patients when they found out, just tear up and grab hold of me a hug me. People that don't know me from Adam. That is comforting, knowing that something like this, could impact someone who doesn't even know me.
I still don't understand why all this has happened. I don't know when I'll be me again, if ever. I don't know if my life will ever make sense again. I don't know if I'll ever be truly happy again. Can you? Does anyone know? It might be a good question to ask in SOBBS (support group for Stories of Babies Born Still on facebook), if you ever feel happy again, feel yourself again, and how it happened. I know everyone's story is different, and all timelines are different, and I know its only been 7 weeks, which in reality is a short, short time. But life is short. And I can't imagine being so depressed for the rest of it, or for the good part of the rest of it. Not that I wouldn't do anything on this earth for my children, or my sweet Emma, but it just doesn't seem right for someone to have to live like this for an extended period of time. I pray God sends me more comfort.
Life is weird. I resent life sometimes. sometimes I'm thankful, sometimes I'm not. I really wish I was back to being thankful for every little thing. I feel like I'm missing out on so much with Shade. And I have already missed out on so much with him between school, work, and other stuff. Why am I doing this now? Why did this happen to me now? Ugh. I have to get off of this train..
xoxo
Coincidentally, its been 7 weeks. I am showing signs of ovulation. I won't get into that. But its a good thing. But also of course, like everything else in my life, leaves that same bittersweet taste in my mouth. It reminds me of how things taste after you vomit. I hate to refer and compare it to that, but that is the feeling the pit of my stomach gets, whenever I think about certain things. And its not certain things you'd think. Not when I think of her, in general, but just specific things. Like I remember the other day, thinking about laying on the OR table. IV in my right wrist. Drape up over my chest. Monitors beeping, the sound of my own heart rate fluctuating up and down with movement or nerves. The soft and low tones of Dr. Sink and Dr. Murphy and the techs, nurses, and other staff communicating back and forth with each other, so's not to alarm me since I would likely know what they were saying. The soft sounds of my husband's sniffles in my left ear. The cool, harsh blowing of the nasal cannula in my nose. My somewhat swimmy head from laying on my back and from the fentanyl they pushed. My numb legs that felt like they were still spread eagle, as that was the position they were in when they finally went totally numb. My eyes, burning with tears, my throat full of a giant lump of emotion just waiting to jump out as a primal scream full of terror, sorrow, and anger. How warm she was when they laid her in my arms, like a perfect scene, except for there were no breaths, no rise and fall of her chest, no screaming, lusty cry. But it wasn't all of that stuff, or even one of those things. I just had a flash back of the OR and my stomach churned. Like I could vomit up the day's food and drink in an instant. My head spun, my vision went tunnel, and a shiver came over me. I had the sudden urge to run away, just get in my car and drive until I ran out of gas, then get more gas, and get more gas until I drained our bank account dry and just sit wherever I got to. Hopefully somewhere with a beach. I was at work though. My responsible head wouldn't let me do that. So I clenched my teeth and went on about my business. I feel like I have a severe case of PTSD. I think of, hear of, smell something, and go straight back and a flood emotions pour in like someone bombed the dam of my brain and heart, and I feel like I could crash and burn immediately. Sure, smells and sights take us back every day, but not like this. I probably have a severe case of a LOT of things, truthfully. But, I will never take the time to get them addressed because I will never sit in front of a shrink and spill my guts.
My mind always fast forwards when I think of the OR. To the next baby I hope that I am blessed with. I dream of going in to the hospital, getting hooked up to all the monitors and hearing that sweet heart beat thumping away (because I didn't get any of that this past time, there was no sweet heart beat to hear anymore) and getting wheeled back to the OR, excited but worried, flashing back to my previous experience will take some of the glory away I'm sure... but excited overall, being laid back, strapped down, prepped, and cut open, and a few minutes later holding a warm, screaming, needy, precious baby in my arms. And that high feeling you get after delivering a baby, I even got it just a little after delivering Emma, even though things were as they were. I won't mind the IVs, the loopy meds, the sticks and pokes and prods, as I will have a precious new life beside me in a bassinet or in my lap, or draped over my shoulder, burping from a good meal, added to the already 2 precious ones I have created already. And I think, time can't go by fast enough for me. I've never been one to wish away my days, except in the winter. Or when I'm miserable. Even then, I usually find a reason to convince myself that I'm being irrational. Like, Shade is only little once, and I better not wish my days away with him. And I don't, I just fear that if I don't fast forward just a bit, that I will lose my mind eventually.
Its a nice fall day. Overcast, but filled with colors and leaves and a cool breeze. There's chili in my crock pot. I am going back and forth between laundry, cooking, taking care of Shade (aka bottomless pit today) homework, photo editing, and blogging. Of course there's always 1 thing missing. Normally I'd be soaking this time up, as it is perfect this time of year... and I would even be enjoying cocoa or coffee on my front porch (which is covered in huge totes of winter clothes that I have to address next week or this weekend getting into the closet and getting the summer clothes out), but I just have no desire to be outside right now. I'll let fall pass, and winter be in full swing, and my depression will ease up at some point hopefully and I won't be able to enjoy outside, on account of the weather. But... there is nothing I can do about that. Once again we are back to the fact that I am wasting my days, by not enjoying them, but again... there is not much I can do to help that. I can feel myself slowly getting better. Better than last week anyway. But, of course I will never be 'better'. This is not a sickness or a condition. This is a lifetime club that nobody wants to be in, that I have signed up for. Its as slow as molasses on a winter day, but I have a wave of comfort over me this week that I have not had the past 2 weeks. I'm sure I will regress shortly. It may be today, it may be tomorrow, it may be in a couple hours. I don't know, but that's how it goes. Slowly but surely. How I wish things were different. I kind of wish I could just block the entire experience out of my mind, but then I would be blocking my newest child out of my mind. I would never and could never do that. I just long for the old me, the normalcy, the optimism to return.
I was having a conversation at work Friday with Chris Johnson, a super nice person who works patient access. He is also someone who goes around and does evangelism. He has some really good stories that have happened in his life and made the comment that all the bad things that happened to him, or to other people, if they can use that experience to minister or to help just ONE person... just ONE, that it was all worth it. I hope I can use my story to help others. I know I have helped a few people in the ER already (the preggos, they flock to me) and a few of my patients whom I have told about my situation since it came up in conversation, have told me some stories, and given me hope. I've had patients when they found out, just tear up and grab hold of me a hug me. People that don't know me from Adam. That is comforting, knowing that something like this, could impact someone who doesn't even know me.
I still don't understand why all this has happened. I don't know when I'll be me again, if ever. I don't know if my life will ever make sense again. I don't know if I'll ever be truly happy again. Can you? Does anyone know? It might be a good question to ask in SOBBS (support group for Stories of Babies Born Still on facebook), if you ever feel happy again, feel yourself again, and how it happened. I know everyone's story is different, and all timelines are different, and I know its only been 7 weeks, which in reality is a short, short time. But life is short. And I can't imagine being so depressed for the rest of it, or for the good part of the rest of it. Not that I wouldn't do anything on this earth for my children, or my sweet Emma, but it just doesn't seem right for someone to have to live like this for an extended period of time. I pray God sends me more comfort.
Life is weird. I resent life sometimes. sometimes I'm thankful, sometimes I'm not. I really wish I was back to being thankful for every little thing. I feel like I'm missing out on so much with Shade. And I have already missed out on so much with him between school, work, and other stuff. Why am I doing this now? Why did this happen to me now? Ugh. I have to get off of this train..
xoxo
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