Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The quiet and beautiful voice of acceptance

I'll start with this, so there is no confusion:  No, I haven't accepted my daughter's death.  There's no peace and comfort there just now, and maybe ever.

But the yesterday I found this beautiful place in myself.  It was like the stars aligned and I had this overwhelming sense of serenity.  I was taking a bath after a full day of work and a decent run.  I had a cool drink.  Pandora seemed to be reading my mind and played all of the perfect songs for me.   Even the bath water temperature was perfect.  Like I already warned, I didn't make peace with Taylor's untimely death.  But in this perfectly peaceful and calm place, I made peace with another painful aspect of my life.  I thought of a person and situation that had been haunting me for years and suddenly it was no longer haunting me, it was no longer daunting.  It just was.  As in, it was in the past, but it still had been; and had had it's beauty and horrors, but was still a part of me.  I had an instant peace that I had never known about it before.  The best my unimaginative engineers mind can do is to describe it as "What has been, has been.   And it's okay." 

In a very un-Amy like fashion this didn't come with the need to describe it to anyone, explain it to the person involved or otherwise rationalize the experience.  I can't even explain why the situation came to my mind.  But I have a peace now that I never had before and I'm grateful for it.

I can never imagine 'coming to terms' with Taylor's death.  And I didn't really 'come to terms' with the situation I mentioned above. That phrase seems cheap and weird and empty.  I didn't 'come to terms' with it, it was more like I just got it and accepted it simultaneously.  It had so much more value than that phrase implies. 

It gave me hope.  It's a distant hope right now, even a half empty hope, but it's still hope.  A hope that someday, in a bathtub far far away, after a run much much further, with the concerns of a far more expensive project melting from my mind, I might think of my precious baby and somehow feel that same sense of completely unanticipated and undeserved serenity.  

Sunday, July 24, 2011

It's only life, we all get through it.

Dates are arbitrary and randomly assigned.  But it doesn't mean they don't matter.

It was a pleasant day yesterday.  I didn't want to get out of bed, so for a very long time I didn't.  Eventually I got up and we picked up flowers and took them to the cemetery.  I took white roses, Gavin took purple lilies.

If I had any doubt that my husband really knows me, it was vanquished when he said "I think we should buy some alcohol and clean the house from top to bottom." 

We are going to be okay.  We are going to get through this. 


Taylor, I wish we were holding you today.  I miss you.

Friday, July 22, 2011

The long anticipated crash...

Last night as I was driving home from my second 18+ hour day, I felt it coming on.

Tomorrow is Taylor's due date, so I'd been expecting it.  Plus, sleep deprivation and lonely roads tend to set the stage for sorrow.  It started with a thought that was trying to wedge it's way in that I was refusing to acknowledge it.  I turned the radio up a little and sang along.  The thoughts persisted.  I turned the radio up almost as loud as it would go and sang as loud as I could to songs I didn't really know the words too.

A loud radio won't always silence thoughts.

And the thought was a strange one.  When I was in the hospital for my surgery, my doctor was significantly less than supportive.  In fact, she was downright callous.  The nurses were better.  In recovery, I remember one of them took my hand, and said everything happened for a reason and she was sure she'd see my name in delivery this winter.  She was right, for two days, and now she's wrong again.

It's a simple thought, a short memory.  But it's funny how these things work and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I gave in and turned the radio off and sobbed.  I sobbed for my precious Taylor and her too short existence.  I sobbed for the baby who should have been my winter baby.  I sobbed for me.  It lasted less than 5 minutes.  I thought I wasn't done, so I played myself a song that always makes me cry.  Nope.  I was done.  That was it.

So I turned the radio back on, and I kept driving.  

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Rough days ahead

There are rough days ahead.  There are more due dates.  There are medical decisions to be made.  There are life decisions to be made.  There are more tears, more fights about what's best, more tantrums.

There are rough days ahead and I know it.  So maybe that's what making the not rough days so much more precious to me.  The 'good' days aren't necessarily the days without tears.  They are the days with smiles, and fun, and love.  They are days I appreciate having my husband home and my friends around. They are the days when even if and when the tears come, they come from a place of longing and sadness, but not despondency.

I wish I could skip those days, but I can't.  I know they are out there, but I'll face them later. 

Monday, July 11, 2011

Due Date(s)

I always assumed a due date was pretty exact.  When I got pregnant, I found out that's not exactly true.  In fact this "due date" seemed to be a bit hard to nail down even.  My NFP teacher, my doctor, and my ultrasound tech all gave me different dates.  All of them were in July. 

I always accepted July 23rd as my due date. 

My first due date is tomorrow.  In my opinion it's the least likely to be correct as it was decided by the first day of my cycle with no regard for my actual cycle length.  July 28th was deemed a due date by u/s tech and also seems unlikely to be correct.  Taylor was probably too small because she wasn't going to make it.

No, July 23rd was my due date to me.  So logically, that should mean that tomorrow should be fine.  Just another day.  And maybe it will be.  But today isn't.  Today I sit at my desk drinking coffee and clearly not nearly 40 weeks pregnant.  Despite my lack of self esteem lately, I have a much better body than I wish I had just now.  I should be giant and miserable and since I started drinking coffee only a month ago, it should still be repulsive to me.  I should be completing Taylor's blanket and frantically checking every last detail for her arrival.  Instead of clients calling to compliment my dedication to my job, I should either be off completely, or my coworkers should be grumbling behind my back about how I'm not focusing on my work.  I should be a new mom, not an RE. 

Jehovah Witnesses came to my house over the weekend to visit my husband (apparently their on a first name basis).  I told them I'd pass along the message and as I closed the door they said "Someday soon, there won't be any suffering."

I can tell you without any doubt that today is not that day.    

Sunday, July 10, 2011

What Cemetery is this?

I went to the cemetery today.  It's been two weeks, the longest I've ever gone without visiting Taylor.  I was immediately sad to see a the tent up meaning there was another baby funeral recently.

And there was a giant broken tree limb across Taylor and quite a few other baby's graves.  I don't know why that upset me as much as it did.  I did my best to move it, but it was too big.

And there was sand everywhere.  It seemed to be concentrated around Taylor's marker.  I couldn't figure out where it came from or what it was but for some reason I found in incredibly disconcerting.

I couldn't help but wonder, what cemetery is this?  Why do I feel like I don't belong?  I didn't stay long, but the visit still resulted in me feeling sad and scared.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Diseased

I spent all day with doctors.  It looks like I have a disease. 

A disease that killed our babies. 

One doctor wants to cut a few holes in my stomach and run a million tests and give me an answer.

Another doctor wants to wait until "You experience a third miscarriage, then we should start looking in to it."

Me?  I want to crawl in a deep hole and curl up there.  I don't think I can find a deep enough hole, so instead I've done nothing but work and sleep and intend to keep it that way for a while.   

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Writer's Block.

I've been writing, I just haven't been posting.  I  can't finish a post lately.  I can't finish a thought half the time, so really I suppose that's not surprising. 

I have this huge burden of guilt about my second pregnancy.  Guilt that I didn't need even a day off of work to cope with it.  Guilt that I don't have a name for our second baby.  Guilt that when I think about these losses, Taylor is so much more real to me.  But more than anything, I feel guilty that I really don't feel all that guilty about those things.

I went to a new OBGYN.  She was fine.  Better than the Dr. Evil who I'd seen previously.  She told me that I was right, I had been pregnant.  I had lost the baby a few days later.  Everyone always told me you can't be a little bit pregnant.  Seems correct.  But it sure felt like I was a little bit pregnant.  I had the crappy pregnancy symptoms, I had the positive pregnancy test, but....

Apparently miscarriages this early are sometimes called chemical pregnancies.  I get that.  But if I truly believe that life begins at conception, than chemical or not, that pregnancy is a person.  If I truly believe that, why don't I feel more... everything?

My only explanation is that I'm either in shock or that I've completely shut down.  Objectively it seems possible, although not likely.  I work nonstop.  I've continued to systematically destroy my social life and isolate myself from most people I used to spend time with.  Any social interactions tend to require a larger amount of mental energy than I remember.  But I'm doing my work well.  I'm growing professionally.  The time I spend there pays off.  I'm still a contributing member of society.  I cope with free time, being around pregnant people, babies, awkward questions regarding when I want children.  I pay my bills on time, do my chores, balance my checkbook.  I answer enough phone calls from family that no one has to worry that I'm hurt or missing.  But if I haven't shut down and I'm not in shock, than on some level... maybe I don't truly believe that.  Maybe that's were this guilt is really stemming from.    

This week, I'll have my last medical appointments associated with my second pregnancy.  And then, I suppose, that's that.