The Two Parallel Lines That Are My Life

Monday, March 12
11:18 a.m.

I haven't blogged in a while because I have this idea of what my next post should look like, but it just doesn't seem right to write it now.  Maybe I'm not ready...I don't know.  So, I keep wanting to write this particular post but not feeling it and having so many uncertainties about what to keep to myself and what to share with others, and so I just don't write it.  So, what do I write about?  Here's a mostly vague picture of what my life has been like lately:

The other day, someone told me that they'd heard life described as two parallel lines, instead of one line consisting of ups and downs, highs and lows.  One of the parallel lines has good things happening on it and the other has bad things happening.  The two lines keep going on simultaneously, no matter what.  I'm finding that to be true right now.  One of our lines consists of sad hearts longing for our baby, frustration toward God and others, huge hospital bills for a procedure we didn't want to need, etc.  The other line has heart-to-hearts with good friends, visits to the park with Felicity, new opportunities on the horizon, a reunion with high school friends, etc.

I like extremes.  I am an all-or-nothing kind of person.  Learning to be happy and sad at the same time is new territory for me.  It is an in-between area that I rarely willingly explore.  Expressing my feelings is pretty unfamiliar too.  Someone asked me how I was doing the other day.  She said it like she really wanted to know-  like she didn't want me to pretend to be okay.  I said that I was "okay", but then I started crying.  It felt good to cry.  It felt good to know that it was okay to cry.  The next morning, another friend sought me out just to give me a hug.  I cried then too.  I like being open about my feelings.  Why haven't I always been like this?

But I also wonder if, after a month or so, I will feel that it's not okay to be honest about my feelings.  As if people will expect me to have moved on.  I hope I do not feel that pressure to hide my heart and if I do, that I ignore the pressure and continue to express myself.  I think I am learning that that's okay with true friends.  People who care, really do care-  they really do want to know how I'm doing.  Isn't that a beautiful thing?  It's as if through tragedy, I'm learning what friends are for, being forced into closeness with them, and learning to accept love.  People truly love me, and that is just about the hardest concept for me to grasp, yet it is one of the most precious and wonderful things that I have ever experienced.

I can't deny that I need friends and that I need love.  I know that I can never repay all of my friends and family (whom I consider my friends) for the kind, thoughtful, loving things that they have done for me over the past 5 1/2 weeks.  I do hope that, going forward, I continue to accept love (and to do a better job at it!) and that I love my friends, neighbors, and even strangers as I have witnessed and experienced love lately.

Sad

Tuesday, February 28 10:12 a.m.


I am sad.



Saying so makes me uncomfortable, but it is the truth.

I like to look on the bright side.  To attempt to move on and look optimistically at the future. To think about taking a fun family trip this summer or getting in shape.  To think about buying cute non-maternity clothes once this extra weight is gone.  To think about things I couldn't do during pregnancy that I can do now.  I do have things to look forward to, but I am sad.  And it is okay to just be sad.

I like trying to explain my sadness.  To analyze it and to make sense of it.  To offer reasons.  But sometimes I can't, and that's okay.

I like boasting about my accomplishments and small victories.  Then my pride is inflated and I don't feel so bad when I think about others whose lives seem to be happily moving along right now, especially those whose lives involve babies.  But when the day is done, they have their babies and I don't have mine and I am sad, and I think that's okay.

I like finding temporary distractions.  I've bought 6 bottles of nail polish since my baby died.  I've eaten  lots of chocolate and ice cream.  I like watching movies so that I can pretend to be a part of a different world for a couple of hours.  I listen to my favorite songs from high school and college, because they remind me of a time when my cares were different.  But these things only get me so far, and then I am sad, and that's okay.

I am learning that it's okay to be sad.  And to be honest, I like allowing myself sadness.  Allowing myself to feel, without fixing the problem.  My body aches for the baby it once held, the baby that was a part of me... but I think that's okay right now.  Most of the time I try to turn from the sadness, but I know the distractions only offer temporary solutions and the sadness is still there.    To feel something so deeply in my heart... to just sit it in it, is uncomfortable right now.  But it's also freeing.  When I allow myself to freely feel, I allow myself to just be.  Then, I can heal.  I am allowed to be sad, and I don't have to hide it.  And I think that that, at least for now, is okay.

Caring for Felicity, Caring for Ourselves

Helping Felicity through the grief process has been one of my top priorities lately.  She was her usual self for a few days after finding out that her little sibling would no longer be coming into the world, but it was obvious that things were not right in her world after that.  Two year olds don't have an understanding of death, but I know that she knows that Mommy and Daddy are sad and that her schedule has changed over the past week or so.  We've worked hard on getting her normal schedule and routine (mostly) back, but she is still being incredibly fussy and clingy and I can't blame her for that; I am doing the exact same thing!  I've been looking up resources so that I can help her to cope, but haven't ordered any of the books I've looked at yet.  I was so glad to find an article on babycenter.com today that gave me some clear direction for helping our Little Girl.  I've put the link for the article below so that our family and close friends can read it and better understand the decisions we've been making for Felicity lately:

http://www.babycenter.com/0_how-to-talk-to-your-2-year-old-about-death_64608.bc

And, while it's easy to put our own feelings on the backburner, don't think that Daniel and I have put our needs aside.  Well, at least we're trying not to do that.  Tonight I think I am going to a support group that Northside Hospital offers for people who've lost a child in situations similar to ours.  I am afraid to commit (as I am with most things!), but have made plans to attend.  Though my parents offered to babysit, Daniel is going to stay home with Felicity so that they can have some much-needed quality time together.  With all of the fussiness we've experienced lately, it's been hard for them to have good time together.  Honestly, I don't like being away from them right now but I pray that our time apart tonight will be good for each of our hearts.

Because I know there are a lot of sweet friends and family members who are wondering how we're doing...

Monday, February 6, 2012

3:47 p.m.

I am alone for the first time today and I don't know what to do.  I have been with my husband Daniel since Wednesday at about 5:00 p.m., with the exception of my time in surgery on Friday and a couple of brief outings as a means of escape over the past several days.  I miss him in a way I've never experienced before.  Being apart doesn't feel right.    

Going to bed would probably be a good idea, considering that my body and heart are recovering and sleep hasn't come easily lately, but I don't want to be there without Daniel.  I don't think I want to be alone.  Being alone means thinking things that I don't feel comfortable thinking right now. I also don't want to rest where my baby used to rest with me, where'd I'd lay down and try to feel the baby move, where I'd wrap my maternity pillow around my body and make sure to lay on my side, where I'd drink my water to wash down my prenatal vitamin each night.  Being without my baby doesn't feel right either; in fact I don't know if I've ever felt something so unnatural in my life.  

Daniel went back to work today.  It was a difficult decision for us to make and I think when he comes home at the end of the day we will both be wondering if it was the right one...but nothing at all is right right now.  I don't think tomorrow or the next day or the next would have been the right day for him to return either.

Right now, faking a normal life seems wonderful at first thought.  We can "be us" and be "normal" and live like we used to.  "Maybe we can just pretend nothing ever happened, then we won't have to feel sad," says my mind.  But I know that, even if I fake normal now, that weeks or months down the road, it will hit me that our baby is not in my belly and that July 2 will most likely not be a joyful day and that I will not be 27+ weeks pregnant at Felicity's birthday party and that I will not have a 5 1/2 month old baby next Christmas.

Even when I am faking normal and trying to convince myself that I'm alright, I know that normal is impossible right now.  Doing dishes and laundry and baking muffins this morning felt good, but I knew I was only doing those things to avoid feeling sadness.  Productivity makes me feel important and successful.  It reminds me of what life was like up until I saw our still little one on the ultrasound.  But I'm finding that even in faking normal, the sadness still creeps up on me.  I used to make breakfast with my baby in mind.  I'd think, "What would be best for the baby?"  Or, "What will make me feel the least bit of nausea?" or, "Will I get enough calcium for the baby in the meal?" or, "I should not eat too much fat so I don't have to get my gallbladder removed before the baby's born."  Everything involved the baby, and then it just stopped without warning.  The baby was gone and that was that; nothing I could do.  And now I try to do normal, and it's just not the same.