I am becoming an Oscar worthy actress. I can fake my way through my day, my life, seemingly without effort. Acting is hard work though, and I end my days exhausted from the performance. Lately I have been having some flashbacks from labor and delivery. Flashes of holding Sawyer for the first time, when he was still warm and his heart was still beating. Flashes of being wheeled to the OR, shaking uncontrollably, knowing Sawyer would not be warm when I returned. They hit me when I least expect it, rendering me quiet and often trying to fight back tears. While they are painful, I treasure the memories of my son, I have so few.
Another friend announced her pregnancy online today. I knew she was pregnant before I lost Sawyer, but it was still a sharp pain in my heart to see it. I want to be happy for people, but I am just bitter. I want to yell "Fuck you and your happiness" to these people. Why do they get this happiness? Why are they so sure that a positive pregnancy test, or a sonogram means they are going to bring home a baby? I was sure, and now I will never be sure of anything again.
I am making an effort to be happy again. I just can't seem to find my footing in this new world. This world where I am always reminded of what I have lost. Our neighbor had her baby. She is a former student of mine, and she had a healthy baby, and I am so angry. I really only like to watch TV that I have recorded so that I can fast forward through the plethora of commercials for baby items or that just feature babies (that stupid insurance commercial.) I have begun to hide anyone from my Facebook feed who has a baby, I just can't look at the pictures and happiness. I am hoping that someday all of this will be easier. I am hoping that the fertility doctors will help us conceive a little brother or sister for Sawyer, and that my experience with childbirth will not always be one of sadness and grief. I will not take it for granted that a positive test equals a living baby ever again though.
I am dreading the holidays and my birthday. Sawyer was supposed to be my birthday present this year. I was supposed to spend Christmas celebrating my impending motherhood. I hate this new life, but I will continue to be an actress, and I will let my exhaustion consume me at the end of the day.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Back to Reality
The first week back to work was a mix of emotions. I spent the first day doing my best to hide from the adults in my building. My AP kids seemed happy to have me back, but a little overwhelmed at the amount of work we needed to do to get caught up. The second day I was back in the front of my classroom, and it felt good to be in control of something again. Teaching is a comfort (the bullshit that comes along with it is not) in the sense that it is something I know, something I can do without constantly second guessing myself. My kids have not asked me about anything, all they have said is they are glad to have me back. I decided to play in the class olympics volleyball game, and quick and dirty way to let everyone know I was back. Also, volleyball is a refuge for me. No time to think about anything but playing.
I feel like I still need to avoid most of the adults in the building. They are not unkind, but if I am going to be at my best in front of the kids I need to save my strength for that. I cried on my way home every day this week. A thirty minute ride to think about what I have lost, and how much life truly sucks right now. I try to get it out before I get home, but sometimes, even if the tears don't make it home, the mood does. I can't fathom how people do this, how do other baby loss moms go back to the real world and carry on as if nothing happened? Every time someone asks how I am and I respond okay or fine, I am lying. I am not okay or fine. I hate life right now, but I need to keep faking like I don't because eventually it might be true. Halloween was hard, I had plans to wear a funny maternity shirt. The thought hit me that I would have been hitting the 30 week mark on Halloween. I would have been ten weeks away from full term. Sawyer would have had more than a fighting chance at surviving if he had been born at 30 weeks.
Monday is November 4th. Two months since Sawyer was born, two months since he died. Two months since I felt him kick or heard his heartbeat on the ultrasound. Two months since I almost died. So much has changed for me, but not for other people. People announce their pregnancies, and make comments about what its like to have children. I don't count. Sawyer didn't live long enough. I wonder what long enough would have been for other people to consider me a mother? Would he have had to have lived a whole day? Or would he have had to come home with us?
Everything reminds me of what we lost. Commercials. Being around people who have babies, being around people who are pregnant. Driving past the yard sales and seeing baby items for sale. Talking about redecorating our house and knowing that it won't include painting his room. If I had made it to 30 weeks, I would have been pushing Colin to get his room painted. Instead Sawyer is in a box on the vanity in a room full of stuff. I don't know what to do with all the plans I had made for him. So I will continue to do the only thing I can, fake it.
I feel like I still need to avoid most of the adults in the building. They are not unkind, but if I am going to be at my best in front of the kids I need to save my strength for that. I cried on my way home every day this week. A thirty minute ride to think about what I have lost, and how much life truly sucks right now. I try to get it out before I get home, but sometimes, even if the tears don't make it home, the mood does. I can't fathom how people do this, how do other baby loss moms go back to the real world and carry on as if nothing happened? Every time someone asks how I am and I respond okay or fine, I am lying. I am not okay or fine. I hate life right now, but I need to keep faking like I don't because eventually it might be true. Halloween was hard, I had plans to wear a funny maternity shirt. The thought hit me that I would have been hitting the 30 week mark on Halloween. I would have been ten weeks away from full term. Sawyer would have had more than a fighting chance at surviving if he had been born at 30 weeks.
Monday is November 4th. Two months since Sawyer was born, two months since he died. Two months since I felt him kick or heard his heartbeat on the ultrasound. Two months since I almost died. So much has changed for me, but not for other people. People announce their pregnancies, and make comments about what its like to have children. I don't count. Sawyer didn't live long enough. I wonder what long enough would have been for other people to consider me a mother? Would he have had to have lived a whole day? Or would he have had to come home with us?
Everything reminds me of what we lost. Commercials. Being around people who have babies, being around people who are pregnant. Driving past the yard sales and seeing baby items for sale. Talking about redecorating our house and knowing that it won't include painting his room. If I had made it to 30 weeks, I would have been pushing Colin to get his room painted. Instead Sawyer is in a box on the vanity in a room full of stuff. I don't know what to do with all the plans I had made for him. So I will continue to do the only thing I can, fake it.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Anxiety, hooray
I have always had a little bit of anxiety, but I have also always been able to push it aside. I am not the social butterfly that is my husband, but I can usually make conversation in a group, and around my friends and family I talk a lot. This overwhelming anxiety is a new feeling for me. I had to go to school Wednesday afternoon to talk with the teacher who has been substituting for me. I did not plan well. I chose 3 o'clock, thinking all the kids would be gone. I didn't think about the fact that all of the adults would still be there. As I walked through the parking lot, a less than tactful colleague (we'll just call him Jeffrey) said hello, and then asked where I had been. My response was "out." He said, loudly, "No, you have been gone for 2 or 3 weeks, where have you been?!" I responded with "Actually, Jeffrey, I have been gone for 8 weeks, and I would rather not talk about it." I managed to make it past him, but I could feel the tension in my chest increasing. I was taking in huge gulps of air. I just wanted to run back to my car. Thankfully another colleague came around the corner at this exact time and helped me calm myself down as the tears fell. I pulled myself together and walked through the doors. Nothing feels the same anymore. My classroom doesn't feel like it is mine, the hallways (which I have not only walked as a teacher for the last 7 years, but also as a student for 4 before that) don't feel right somehow.
My department was having a meeting, but I didn't go in. I did not stop to say hello. I can't be that person right now, I don't want to be that person anymore. I went straight to my room and sat down with Rich. He sat behind my desk and I sat in a student desk. It was like an out of body experience. This is my room, these are my things, but this is not right, none of it is right. Rich was great, we discussed what the kids had been doing, and talked about how we saw the rest of the semester going. I told him that since he will be with me first period, I would really like for him to take the lead in that class. He agreed, whatever I needed we would do. He asked me if I wanted him to tell the kids what happened. I said yes, and then yesterday I emailed him the statement I wanted him to make. I told him it was very important to me that he did not use the term "miscarriage" or the phrase "lost the baby." I explained that Sawyer was born alive, and that those two things really grate my nerves. I asked him to tell the kids that I had a baby, but that he was much too early and did not live very long. He emailed me back that he appreciated me helping him know what to say, and that he himself was a victim of not understanding what happened. Before I left, we went down and talked to my principal and vice-principals. They all seem very sympathetic and willing to help in any way they can. I hope that continues. By the time I left my anxiety had eased, but I know Monday is going to be the hardest. I am trying not to dwell on it, but the pit in my stomach has already started to form, and sometimes just the thought of having to go back makes my chest tighten.
This past weekend, Colin and I went to Williamsburg (some pictures above) for a little break. We left Thursday afternoon. On Friday, we went to Colonial Williamsburg. The weather was beautiful, and we had a great day together. We walked through the streets, checked out the shops and went through some of the tours. There were people there with babies and pregnant women, but it wasn't crowded so I didn't feel overwhelmed by it. I could simply move away, and that felt better. We had lunch at The King's Arms Tavern. It was fantastic. That night we went to a sushi restaurant in town, and it was great sushi. We will definitely go back to that restaurant on our next visit. Saturday was a different story. Before we went we had looked at the weather. The prediction had been rain Friday, sunny Saturday. We decided on the order of our visit, and chose Saturday for Busch Gardens. It rained. We stopped at K-Mart and bought rain jackets and headed to the park. At first it was great, not a lot of people, so the lines were short. We rode a roller coaster and had some beer. We decided to walk through the park, maybe see a show. We saw what might have been the worst Halloween musical ever designed. It was a mesh of every scary creature (Frankenstein's Monster, Dracula, Wolfman, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon,) eighties music, half-naked dancing nurses (not really sure why Dr. "Freakenstein" needed nurses) an The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was awful. When we got out of the show, the park was packed. My anxiety reared its ugly head. Babies everywhere! WHO BRINGS AN INFANT TO A THEME PARK? Apparently lots of people. By the time we ate lunch I was miserable, but I tried to hide it. We saw an animal show (which made me want a pet fox) and then we both decided it was time to go. A couple with a brand new baby (I swear it couldn't have been more than a month old) was in one of the gift shops we stopped in on our way out. I quickly exited, but then there they were again, on the tram to the parking lots. And getting off at the same stop, and parked in a row near us. I felt like I couldn't get away. I know I am going to have to see babies, and peoples announcements, and pregnant women, but I wish I could just shut off the part of my brain that zones in on it. My chest hurts when I see them. Seeing friends announcements makes me want to scream "Something could go wrong! It did for us." But that wouldn't be fair, I can't take their happiness just because mine is gone.
My grief counselor said she believes that I am a strong person and that my anxiety will decrease as time goes on. It is part of my grief and my minds way of trying to protect me. She said my hope will return too, but that I have to be gentle with myself. Maybe she is right, but to be honest, I don't feel very hopeful for the future and anxiety sucks.
My department was having a meeting, but I didn't go in. I did not stop to say hello. I can't be that person right now, I don't want to be that person anymore. I went straight to my room and sat down with Rich. He sat behind my desk and I sat in a student desk. It was like an out of body experience. This is my room, these are my things, but this is not right, none of it is right. Rich was great, we discussed what the kids had been doing, and talked about how we saw the rest of the semester going. I told him that since he will be with me first period, I would really like for him to take the lead in that class. He agreed, whatever I needed we would do. He asked me if I wanted him to tell the kids what happened. I said yes, and then yesterday I emailed him the statement I wanted him to make. I told him it was very important to me that he did not use the term "miscarriage" or the phrase "lost the baby." I explained that Sawyer was born alive, and that those two things really grate my nerves. I asked him to tell the kids that I had a baby, but that he was much too early and did not live very long. He emailed me back that he appreciated me helping him know what to say, and that he himself was a victim of not understanding what happened. Before I left, we went down and talked to my principal and vice-principals. They all seem very sympathetic and willing to help in any way they can. I hope that continues. By the time I left my anxiety had eased, but I know Monday is going to be the hardest. I am trying not to dwell on it, but the pit in my stomach has already started to form, and sometimes just the thought of having to go back makes my chest tighten.
This past weekend, Colin and I went to Williamsburg (some pictures above) for a little break. We left Thursday afternoon. On Friday, we went to Colonial Williamsburg. The weather was beautiful, and we had a great day together. We walked through the streets, checked out the shops and went through some of the tours. There were people there with babies and pregnant women, but it wasn't crowded so I didn't feel overwhelmed by it. I could simply move away, and that felt better. We had lunch at The King's Arms Tavern. It was fantastic. That night we went to a sushi restaurant in town, and it was great sushi. We will definitely go back to that restaurant on our next visit. Saturday was a different story. Before we went we had looked at the weather. The prediction had been rain Friday, sunny Saturday. We decided on the order of our visit, and chose Saturday for Busch Gardens. It rained. We stopped at K-Mart and bought rain jackets and headed to the park. At first it was great, not a lot of people, so the lines were short. We rode a roller coaster and had some beer. We decided to walk through the park, maybe see a show. We saw what might have been the worst Halloween musical ever designed. It was a mesh of every scary creature (Frankenstein's Monster, Dracula, Wolfman, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon,) eighties music, half-naked dancing nurses (not really sure why Dr. "Freakenstein" needed nurses) an The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was awful. When we got out of the show, the park was packed. My anxiety reared its ugly head. Babies everywhere! WHO BRINGS AN INFANT TO A THEME PARK? Apparently lots of people. By the time we ate lunch I was miserable, but I tried to hide it. We saw an animal show (which made me want a pet fox) and then we both decided it was time to go. A couple with a brand new baby (I swear it couldn't have been more than a month old) was in one of the gift shops we stopped in on our way out. I quickly exited, but then there they were again, on the tram to the parking lots. And getting off at the same stop, and parked in a row near us. I felt like I couldn't get away. I know I am going to have to see babies, and peoples announcements, and pregnant women, but I wish I could just shut off the part of my brain that zones in on it. My chest hurts when I see them. Seeing friends announcements makes me want to scream "Something could go wrong! It did for us." But that wouldn't be fair, I can't take their happiness just because mine is gone.
My grief counselor said she believes that I am a strong person and that my anxiety will decrease as time goes on. It is part of my grief and my minds way of trying to protect me. She said my hope will return too, but that I have to be gentle with myself. Maybe she is right, but to be honest, I don't feel very hopeful for the future and anxiety sucks.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Ranting
Okay, I just need to vent. I posted on Facebook today about it being Infant Loss Awareness day. Just a reminder to people to think kind thoughts. I put nothing about God because I AM AN ATHEIST. I DO NOT believe that my son is with any god, or that he is an angel now (which by the way drives me bonkers because if Abrahamic Dogma were true, people don't become angels, they are a separate fucking species.) I believe that my son was energy, and that energy can never be destroyed only changed. He came from stardust and like the rest of us will, he is dust again. If you think there is a being that is able to do anything, and did not save my son, then why would I ever worship such a piece of shit. If there is a God and he has my son, he better hope I never make it to heaven. If you know people that feel the need to spew religious bullshit to me, please tell them to stop before I use facts to make them realize how stupid their fucking faith is.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Making Plans
I went to my second grief counseling session this morning. It helped to sort through some things that have been bothering me, but also some things that have been really helping me. I had a rough weekend. One of my best friends announced her pregnancy on Facebook. As happy as I am for her, it was like salt in an open wound. If Sawyer had been carried to term, our kids would have been very close in age. If Sawyer has survived, we could have shared in the joys of our first children together. I tried to pick myself up. I went to book club Friday night, and I talked about what happened, surprisingly I was able to do so without crying. Book club was nice, but I still feel very awkward around people, and I can tell that many of them feel awkward around me. Rhonda keeps reminding me to stop worrying so much about how other people feel and focus on me. It is hard to remember some times. Saturday we went to a surprise party for my cousin's wife. When we walked in her sister was there with her 11 week old son and I felt my heart break all over again. Why did this happen to me? Why didn't my body do it's job and protect Sawyer? So I drank, but in reality it didn't numb the pain. I cried the entire way home from Rock Hall, sobbing. I told Colin that as selfish as it sounds, sometimes I wish I hadn't survived. If I hadn't I wouldn't have to feel like this. I would never hurt myself, and I know that it would have hurt my family, but there is a a little part of me that is selfish enough to wish I didn't have to feel at all. Sunday we watched football. My other cousin's wife (there are so many cousins it would be pointless to try and be more specific) is trying to get pregnant. I referred her to my fertility doctor. I was a little taken aback when she said she is going to demand a cerclage. As far as I know, she doesn't have a history of a incompetent cervix. It is almost like she is taking what happened to me and making it about her. I wish her the best of luck, but that just struck me as being a strange thing to say. I also talked about how wonderful my sisters, my brother and my friend Holly have been through this entire ordeal. I don't know what I would do without them. Sawyer is loved by them, and that helps me to know that he will not be forgotten.
I am heading to school next Wednesday afternoon to see the teacher who has been covering for me and work out some transition stuff. My boss told me that we will take it slow when I get back. She also told me that there is a pregnant student in my class, but because of her IEP and ESL needs my principal has been unable to move her. She said if it is too much for me we will figure out how to make other arrangements. I appreciate the effort she is making to make this easier for me. I am not always good at asking people to help me, but I am working on it. I know that asking for what I need right now is not selfish (mostly because Rhonda keeps telling me that.) I will get through this, I know I can, it just sucks so much that I have to. This was not the plan I had, and now making plans seems pointless sometimes.
Looking forward to this weekend in Williamsburg, maybe it will help me clear my head a little.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Like waves in the ocean
I read a quote on Pinterest (of all places) that discussed how grief is like the waves of the ocean, ebbing and flowing, receding and returning. That is certainly true. My first meeting with the grief counselor went well. She really helped me feel validated in my grief. It sometimes feels like people are expecting me to be done being sad now (no one in particular, and no one has said this, it is just a feeling I get.) I have more good days with bad moments right now, then bad days with good moments. I have enjoyed getting out on weekends with Colin and spending time with just the two of us. The counselor said this was a good idea, just the two of us spending quality time together. Even though we are grieving in different ways, it is important for us to be together enjoying our life together. She also validated my guilt at being able to do things like drink a beer, or get highlights in my hair. I spent most of the hour crying as I talked about my guilt and anxiety. It was nice to talk to someone who didn't mind the tears, and who consistently validated everything I was feeling. She thought I was doing really well considering everything I have been through. That felt good to hear too.
She did tell me that my intelligence is probably increasing my anxiety about trying again. I have been reading other women's stories of their losses, and realizing that I could have more to battle than incompetent cervix next time. She told me I have to find some way to relax myself, whether it be meditation or soothing music. I have to find a way to not stress my body if we are going to try again. She also told me to think about a statement I could make to people at work if they say something I do not find helpful (like "Sawyer is an angel now.") I also liked that even though she is a religious or spiritual person, she dealt with my atheist frustrations with religious explanations for what happened.
I still get really anxious about being with big groups of people that I know, but I feel like that is getting a little bit easier. I am going to try going back to book club this Friday, and maybe volleyball next week. Everyone in book club knows what happened, no one at volleyball (except for one person) knows. I think when they ask where I have been I am just going to respond, "It is a long and not happy story, I would rather not get into it." I don't want to feel like I am denying Sawyer, but I also don't want to sob when I am trying to get back into the sport I love.
As for trying again, I am going to ask the doc his medical opinion next week for how long I should wait, physically. After that I am going for it. If anything Sawyer has shown me that life is short, sometimes blink of an eye short, and I want living children. I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. I will never replace Sawyer, he will always be my first child, and I will always have an immense amount of love for him. I think I am looking forward to sharing that love with other children in our future.
She did tell me that my intelligence is probably increasing my anxiety about trying again. I have been reading other women's stories of their losses, and realizing that I could have more to battle than incompetent cervix next time. She told me I have to find some way to relax myself, whether it be meditation or soothing music. I have to find a way to not stress my body if we are going to try again. She also told me to think about a statement I could make to people at work if they say something I do not find helpful (like "Sawyer is an angel now.") I also liked that even though she is a religious or spiritual person, she dealt with my atheist frustrations with religious explanations for what happened.
I still get really anxious about being with big groups of people that I know, but I feel like that is getting a little bit easier. I am going to try going back to book club this Friday, and maybe volleyball next week. Everyone in book club knows what happened, no one at volleyball (except for one person) knows. I think when they ask where I have been I am just going to respond, "It is a long and not happy story, I would rather not get into it." I don't want to feel like I am denying Sawyer, but I also don't want to sob when I am trying to get back into the sport I love.
As for trying again, I am going to ask the doc his medical opinion next week for how long I should wait, physically. After that I am going for it. If anything Sawyer has shown me that life is short, sometimes blink of an eye short, and I want living children. I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. I will never replace Sawyer, he will always be my first child, and I will always have an immense amount of love for him. I think I am looking forward to sharing that love with other children in our future.
Friday, October 4, 2013
One Month
Today has been one month. What a bizarre thought, my son has been dead for a month, but he wasn't even supposed to have arrived yet. I feel like I am coping better with the reality of everything that has happened. I have been getting out, walking, making plans, etc. It doesn't take much to make that shell of "coping" crumble though. Driving in my car gives me too much time to think, and my thoughts can't help but go to Sawyer. Little things can set off a chain reaction until I am sobbing again. It doesn't last as long anymore, but the tears are still there, always ready to spring. A sympathy card always brings the tears.
I made an appointment with a grief counselor for Monday. I am hoping she can help me with the anxiety I feel about going back to work in a few weeks. I am worried that a co-worker or a student may say something and I will not be able to stop the tears, or the anger. I also want to talk about my anxiety for trying again with my OB at my next appointment. My first feeling was we would not try again until the summer or spring, but now I am not sure I want to wait that long. Losing Sawyer has not decreased my desire to have another child, if anything it has increased it. Colin and I talked about it yesterday, and he has the same sentiment. Having Sawyer, even if we only had a few minutes with him, has made Colin more certain that he wants more children as well. If the OB says it is okay, we might start trying this winter. Obviously I may change my mind. I do know that when we try again, if we are successful, we will not be announcing it via Facebook or anything else. Looking back at the congrats messages, and the picture of our announcement are heartbreaking. We looked so happy, and I am grateful for the happiness Sawyer brought us during my pregnancy and his few minutes in the world. It is just hard to remember how happy we were and then feel the crushing sadness I feel now.
I read a quote from Tinkerbell and it struck me "You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting." I feel like I could replace Peter's name with Sawyer, because I am always waiting for him in between sleep and waking up.
I made an appointment with a grief counselor for Monday. I am hoping she can help me with the anxiety I feel about going back to work in a few weeks. I am worried that a co-worker or a student may say something and I will not be able to stop the tears, or the anger. I also want to talk about my anxiety for trying again with my OB at my next appointment. My first feeling was we would not try again until the summer or spring, but now I am not sure I want to wait that long. Losing Sawyer has not decreased my desire to have another child, if anything it has increased it. Colin and I talked about it yesterday, and he has the same sentiment. Having Sawyer, even if we only had a few minutes with him, has made Colin more certain that he wants more children as well. If the OB says it is okay, we might start trying this winter. Obviously I may change my mind. I do know that when we try again, if we are successful, we will not be announcing it via Facebook or anything else. Looking back at the congrats messages, and the picture of our announcement are heartbreaking. We looked so happy, and I am grateful for the happiness Sawyer brought us during my pregnancy and his few minutes in the world. It is just hard to remember how happy we were and then feel the crushing sadness I feel now.
I read a quote from Tinkerbell and it struck me "You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting." I feel like I could replace Peter's name with Sawyer, because I am always waiting for him in between sleep and waking up.
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