Tuesday, June 28, 2011

I went, I saw, I conquered!

Yesterday was the big ultrasound day.  Well, technically, last Tuesday was the original date.  I had worked myself up and was ready to tackle the ominous ultrasound room; then they called to reschedule.  Yesterday ended up being the show-down day and I was not as well prepared as I'd hoped.

First, I was a ball of nerves all morning.  I couldn't focus, couldn't think straight.  I was just full of dread with the impending date with doom (or so I anticipated).  I left work a few minutes too late and in my frenzy and stress I forgot my water.  Later, this proved to be an issue as only half the ultrasound could be done, since my bladder was not full.

I finally arrived and they called me back.  My heart was going a good thousand miles an hour by the time I entered the room.  The ultrasound tech was so wonderful and nice.  Thankfully she was not the same lady that was there the day we confirmed Colton's passing.  (She was really nice as well; I just don't think I could have handled that too). 

AS she did the ultrasound we made small talk then I finally mustered the courage to ask what I really needed to...

I asked to see the screen.  She asked what I wanted to see in particular and I explained I just needed to see the screen.  I needed to see that it's just a diagnostic tool.  There isn't a sleeping child in my womb, locked in suspension on that screen.  It's a harmless tool to reveal truths, not bring despair.  She was kind enough to turn the screen, show me my uterus, empty of child but fluffy and full of hope for another. 

In that moment so much anxiety and fear swept from me.  As many times before I will confess the insanity and irrationality of my fears.  I understand there wasn't going to be Colton on that screen.  I understand that an ultrasound machine cannot administer doom, it simply reveals what's already there. I logically understand that.

Nevertheless, seeing proof of it helps.  Confirming the reality and simplicity helps.  And I am one step closer to removing fear from my life and finding hope again.  Another hurdle behind me, another step.  Another day in the right direction.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Flight of the Fear

The last two nights I have hardly been able to sleep.  Anxiety has riveted through me and kept me at a level of unease that has made it impossible to sleep, focus, or believe that things would be okay. 

Today, though, I made it past those things and am another day ahead in my path to healing...

My youngest son flew all by himself today.  He will be seven in just a few short weeks.  You wouldn't know it by hanging out with him, though.  He is articulate, outgoing, witty, and fun.  He has a security about him that most adults I know only strive to achieve or at the least appear to have.  So I was not concerned about him flying alone (he did have an unaccompanied minor attendant, so he wasn't ALL by himself). 

Matter of fact, as we drove to the airport (at 3:30 a.m.) he talked to me about how excited he was.  He explained to me that when the airplane takes off it's like a motorcycle popping a wheelie off of a big ramp.  And that it's "awesome".  He fully planned to make friends; at which time I tried to reiterate 'stranger danger' and that he needed to not talk the ear off of his neighbors.  He talked about having a snack and a drink and went on and on about how cool it was. 

See I wasn't afraid of how he'd do on the flight.  I wasn't afraid of  him getting lost, or being scared, or crying for the next five hours.  Those things really didn't cross my mind. 

No, I was afraid he was going to die.  That his plane would crash.  Because that's what my kids do ... they die. 

After I put him on the plane I went to the window and waited until the plane left and I watched him soar safely into the blue sky before leaving.  As I was standing there, praying that God not take another child from me, a butterfly floated up to the window, hovered, then flew and landed on the wing of the plane.  I suddenly had peace.  I knew that was God's promise.  That he was sending peace, comfort, and a special angel to watch over the flight, to watch over my son.  I felt a peace and a closeness with Colton.  I fully and firmly believe both my sons were on that flight.  And I felt calm; a calm I hadn't felt in days (maybe months).

My son made it safe.  He says his flight was "awesome".  He - luckily - sat by two other unaccompanied minors who he made friends with.  Grandma reported they all waved and yelled goodbye, without a care in the world.  Innocent pure happiness. 

Today wasn't just a flight to vacationing with granny and pop for my son.  Today was a flight of my fear, leaving me and being replaced with peace.  Peace that God is in control.  Do I believe my children won't die? No.  I know fully they could still be taken from me at any time.  The truth is our children are a gift from God, on loan to us, until they are called back  home.  However I do have peace that I cannot control this life.  Worry and fear do not prevent bad things from happening; they do prohibit happiness from coming in.  The peace of the fear taking flight from me is freeing.  The peace of a flutter of a butterfly, the giggle of a little boy safe and sound, and the promise that an angel is always surrounding us. ~xoxo~

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Shit Happens

Today there was a news report posted on a site I visit that discussed stillbirth and the link with how much and how you sleep.

For reals?

All I could think is for fuck's sake!! It was the most uneducated, narrow, stupid article I have read in a long time.  I mean, it was like 300 ladies they talked to and asked about sleeping before stillbirth.  Namely sleeping on your left side v. any other way. 

First, I can almost guarantee you they have no idea how they slept the night before their child died.  I know that I don't remember most anything from the moment I confirmed my son was dead until I don't know when before.  Most women I know that have gone through the same trauma say they are the same; they have no clear recollection of the days (or months) before "that moment".

Second, give us a break.  By us I mean all the woman who have tried to recount ever step, scrutinize every sneeze, every trip, every twinge, every headache, every.single. freaking.second of their pregnancy and wonder where we went wrong.  What did we do. 

Coulda-shoulda-woulda.

I am done with the blame. I didn't do anything wrong. I ate right, I rested right, I took good care of myself and my son.  SHIT JUST HAPPENS.  Unfortunately, this is the crappiest of all crapies that CAN happen and it DID happen and blaming myself or my foods or my stinking sleeping habits just won't change a damn thing. 

Stillbirth sucks.  Plain and simple.  Reaching for answers that just aren't there just adds to the frustration and grief.  I refuse to live like that.  And I wish people who don't know what they're talking about wouldn't pretend like they do.  If they did they'd know they aren't helping anyone.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Anxious, so very anxious.

Two weeks from now is my follow up appointment with my OB/GYN.  We will be doing another PAP which will tell us if the precancerous cells are gone, the same, or growing.  And you'd think that would be the most terrifying part of it all, right?

The doctor is also going to do an ultrasound.  He's going to check for any cysts or fibroid.  My periods have been changing and some symptoms point at those possibilities.  Even that I am okay with.  We can treat those things.

We can't treat the anxiety I feel though.  The anxiety of having an ultrasound in that office.  I tried to talk the nurse into letting me go elsewhere, however they insisted on their ultrasound techs completing the scan.

I have to give her the benefit that she doesn't realize WHY it's such a big deal to me.  She doesn't realize that the last time I was in their ultrasound room I saw my son's motionless heart and had to accept my son was gone.  I let out the most primal, excruciating scream, one that I didn't even realize at that time belonged to me.  That room is the place part of me died.  Part of me shut down, went dark, and will never see light again. 

Of course that room also only holds bad news for me. So there is the anxiety that the evil machine will again reveal bad news.  Will it this time say I'm dying? Melodramatic, yes, but who'd have thought it would have provided that result last time?

I rationally know it's JUST A ROOM.  I rationally know it's not cursed, I'm not cursed.  I also know, rationally, that babies just shouldn't die.  And that, obviously, this world is far from rational and anything is possible.

I pray that the next two weeks pass quickly.  These migraines, nausea, and panic attacks need to leave with the passing time.  I need calm.  I need some good news and some encouragement. I need peace.

I just need it to be done.

Friday, June 3, 2011

My little man Colton

A beautiful poem I found.. .. ..

An Angel Never Dies

Don't let them say I wasn't born,
That something stopped my heart

I felt each tender squeeze you gave,
I've loved you from the start.

Although my body you can't hold
It doesn't mean I'm gone
This world was worthy, not of me
God chose that I move on.

I know the pain that drowns your soul,
What you are forced to face

You have my word, I'll fill your arms,
Some day we will embrace.

You'll hear that it was meant to be,
God doesn't make mistakes.
But that won't soften your worst blow,
Or make your heart not ache.

I'm watching over all you do
Another child you'll bear
Believe me when I say to you,
That I am always there.

There will come a time, I promise you,
When you will hold my hand,
Stroke my face and kiss my lips,
And then you will understand.

Although I've never breathed your air
Or gazed into your eyes,
That doesn't mean that I never was

An Angel never dies.



Author Unknown

Small Feats

I didn't clean the room.  I tried.  Well, I thought about it.  But I didn't do it.

I did however make a large step toward 'recovery'.

I visited the L&D department.  A huge fear of mine has been returning to a labor and delivery ward.  Seeing pregnant people, newly delivered people ... and babies.  Hearing them, seeing them ... yearning for one. 

This weekend, though, I had the opportunity to face my fear.  A friend of mine was so blessed to delivery beautiful twin girls as a surrogate mother.  The opportunity to celebrate with her pushed me toward the courage to venture into a place of great emotion.

Amazingly, I was fine.  I walked onto the ward and didn't collapse - as I feared.  I didn't cry. I didn't panic. 
I was excited.  I was full of hope and wonder.  I was OKAY.

When I met these babies ... I cannot explain the feeling.  I was given the opportunity to hold them.  I chose to hold the smaller one for two reasons: one, I love the underdog and two, she represented hope.  She was only 4lb4oz.  She was smaller than my Colton.  And she was alive. 

When she was born the doctor understood why she was so small.  Her cord was attached at the side of the placenta.  Not only was she alive, she was a miracle.

And if she could be a miracle, I could have one too.

I don't know if my friend picked up on how much seeing her and these babies helped me.  I went because I wanted to congratulate her and the new mother.  I went to celebrate life, the life of two precious little girls.  And in doing so I regained part of my life.  Part of my spirit.  I regained hope. 

And, to me, packing away the emotions trumps packing away the totes any day.