The morning was spent reading books, then we went to Barnes and Noble for some new books. Lunch out at Pei Wei and a 2-hour nap where I was able to clean out the fridges and relax a little myself. Then a nice walk to the park with good friends where I got to flex my mom muscles by telling a kid not to throw sand at my daughter's face, and he listened. Then a great ceviche and wine dinner at a local seafood shack suggested by Bean and an impromptu family dance party to Macklemore when we got home. Zero TV! Except for us parents, who cried through the series finale of Parenthood. I can't even pick a highlight because we did so many of my favorite things.
But...
It's always there, even when I'm not thinking about it. Which usually, I'm not.
The searing pain. The shame and embarrassment that my body is somehow inferior. I don't feel inferior but I must be, and why didn't I figure it out sooner? I never thought I would be a good mom, and certainly I'm not that great because I don't deserve to have more. I must have done something to have so many of the most important people taken away from me.
I'm not handling it the way people think I should. I let people down, and I hurt them. I'm clinging to things that make this horrendous situation easier for me to handle because nobody in my life has been through this and so they can't possibly understand. And I don't want them to. As much as I'd like to have someone that I love be able to relate to my story, that means that they would have to go through this and I would never wish this on anyone. I was afraid when we saw Granny in her final days, I was extremely sad when Donna died, I broke into pieces when Bud died, and a part of me died when Baby B did. And then this stupid body of mine decided to try to make twins and it didn't work. I don't know what to do now, so I'm spending $77 to have a bathing suit altered to fit for our trip to Costa Rica because somehow that makes it a tiny smidge better. At least I'll look fashionable at the pool. (Please tell me the sarcasm is evident!)
One of the final scenes in Parenthood was the parents looking at their four children, plus spouses and grandkids, and one great-grandchild, and saying to each other, "We did good, didn't we?"
I wonder if I'll ever have that. I want it more than anything. The hectic life filled with things to resolve, fights to break up, terrible dance moves, unlimited crazy stories... I have this ridiculously huge house ready to be filled.
And then I wonder, "what's the rush? Abigail isn't even 2". Because all along I planned to be at some stage of pregnancy by now, to get through this part- the having babies and newborn stage- to try and get to the next part, the one I really wanted. I know that it's not up to me. I know that I don't get to choose. But I see my friends trying and succeeding at this, and one of them is now growing baby #4, and I wonder if I need to change my view. I don't need this dream house of ours if we only have one child, it's obnoxious if it's not filled with a rambunctious family.
The last two paragraphs went down the rabbit hole, the one I know is not productive. My friends and family think I'm crazy, that I've gone off the deep end. I keep getting calls and texts saying "I'm worried about you". Those people are not doing anything to help though. Who will pay for me to go to counseling? Who will come watch Abby for 2 hours and clean my house and cook dinner while I go and talk? Who will just ask questions that are scary and listen to the answers without trying to solve it? None of the above. And what if I just want several hours alone anyway? Not going to happen. Although I am keeping up with my house now, and I'm not avoiding my feelings like I did with Bud and Baby B, so I think I am doing okay.
In all honesty, I'm sensitive, and things that I don't show are still there. There are things that were said to me as far back as elementary school that I remember, including who said it and where we were. I remember how it made me feel at the time. I choose to let those feelings go if they can't be resolved, and I'm constantly working on myself.
I was told I was singing off key once (I was enjoying singing loud and proud), and it made me stop singing in public and in the shower. I'm in music class with Abby now and the teacher stopped class recently and told me she could hear me- approvingly- and that she wondered if others had noticed how much I'd grown musically, because she had. Apparently I was singing on key, loud and proud.
I think it's important to try and be a good person and have authentic connections with people and do the best you can in the situation you are in. I've also been a people pleaser most of my life. When Bud died, I decided I should try to change that. She thought I was too hard on myself (and I was/am), and usually encouraged me to be less harsh with other people. The things I usually contemplated saying to others were much nicer versions of things that were always going through my own head, directed at myself. It sure did make my work life easy- no matter what my boss said about my work, I judged myself much more harshly in advance. I was always surprised that they thought I was doing such a good job.
Here I am. Alternately happy with my life and sad about it too. I'm in a little glass box for people to look at and discuss, but they never just open the box and talk to me!
Earlier last summer, I thought things were going ok. I was still wondering what was happening with my body and when the spotting would stop and a regular period would happen, but generally feeling hopeful about our future prospects... kind of how I feel now, 2 weeks after my surgery.
And then my friend Jess came to stay for a night. We had a few minutes where her husband was still upstairs sleeping, and Bean took Abby up into the game room to play. We were sitting in couches across from each other and we both wanted to talk- really talk- about what was going on with me but hadn't had a chance. I knew we wouldn't get into anything because time was limited, she was leaving soon, and it just wasn't a good time.
I think it's important to try and be a good person and have authentic connections with people and do the best you can in the situation you are in. I've also been a people pleaser most of my life. When Bud died, I decided I should try to change that. She thought I was too hard on myself (and I was/am), and usually encouraged me to be less harsh with other people. The things I usually contemplated saying to others were much nicer versions of things that were always going through my own head, directed at myself. It sure did make my work life easy- no matter what my boss said about my work, I judged myself much more harshly in advance. I was always surprised that they thought I was doing such a good job.
Here I am. Alternately happy with my life and sad about it too. I'm in a little glass box for people to look at and discuss, but they never just open the box and talk to me!
Earlier last summer, I thought things were going ok. I was still wondering what was happening with my body and when the spotting would stop and a regular period would happen, but generally feeling hopeful about our future prospects... kind of how I feel now, 2 weeks after my surgery.
And then my friend Jess came to stay for a night. We had a few minutes where her husband was still upstairs sleeping, and Bean took Abby up into the game room to play. We were sitting in couches across from each other and we both wanted to talk- really talk- about what was going on with me but hadn't had a chance. I knew we wouldn't get into anything because time was limited, she was leaving soon, and it just wasn't a good time.
"So how are you, how are things?" she asked. "I'm ok," I responded.
The way she looked at me when she said, "You don't look ok" was a turning point. I burst into tears and said, "I'm trying, so hard, and it's just not getting any better." Here's one of my closest friends, who I could talk to for hours and never feel bored, who I can always be honest with, who now lives out of town, and who I haven't seen in months- looking me in the face and she knows I'm hurting. It was equal parts embarrassing- am I walking around daily looking like crap?!- and exactly what I needed.
Certainly I don't expect everyone in my life to know me this well, or handle things superbly like a select few that I have, and perhaps this is part of the process I have to learn how to endure: others are uncomfortable with things that hurt and that they haven't experienced and therefore don't understand, so they either clam up and don't say anything, avoid the situation, give unsolicited advice, and/or get hurt if I don't act the same way I did before.
Before what?
Before my miscarriages, or before Bud died? Before I decided to stop people pleasing or before I realized I should put my needs first?
I don't have the answers,and I don't have a good way to end this post. It's been a really great day, and finding the words for some of my feelings has been the icing on the cake. Or the lemon juice in the ceviche. Or truthfully, the Evolution wine (that I first tried with Jess) in my now- empty glass.
The way she looked at me when she said, "You don't look ok" was a turning point. I burst into tears and said, "I'm trying, so hard, and it's just not getting any better." Here's one of my closest friends, who I could talk to for hours and never feel bored, who I can always be honest with, who now lives out of town, and who I haven't seen in months- looking me in the face and she knows I'm hurting. It was equal parts embarrassing- am I walking around daily looking like crap?!- and exactly what I needed.
Certainly I don't expect everyone in my life to know me this well, or handle things superbly like a select few that I have, and perhaps this is part of the process I have to learn how to endure: others are uncomfortable with things that hurt and that they haven't experienced and therefore don't understand, so they either clam up and don't say anything, avoid the situation, give unsolicited advice, and/or get hurt if I don't act the same way I did before.
Before what?
Before my miscarriages, or before Bud died? Before I decided to stop people pleasing or before I realized I should put my needs first?
I don't have the answers,and I don't have a good way to end this post. It's been a really great day, and finding the words for some of my feelings has been the icing on the cake. Or the lemon juice in the ceviche. Or truthfully, the Evolution wine (that I first tried with Jess) in my now- empty glass.
1 comments:
Celebrating bits of joy does not dishonor the loss of your cherished babies. The recent sorrow and heartache of losing your twins is a significant and painfully devastating physical and emotional trauma. Let people know you are unwilling to brush aside your grief with cliches. Don't allow others to rush your grief. You are healing from lives cut short ... it is a life-long journey traveled at your speed. Having a baby die changes you. Part of your grief journey will be getting acquainted with your new self. 36 years and 28 years after the losses of my babies, reading your journal of your grief journey is positive to my life-long healing process. Integrating grief in a meaningful way into our life is both a challenge and a struggle. In my experience there will always be anticipated triggers and unexpected situations which will create setbacks or at least tears.
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