Last night, we had two amazing friends over for dinner. This is a great couple we met in grief counseling, and Mike and I just love them. Mike has lots in common with J, and C is too adorable for words, which entertains me to no end. The best part about our friendship, though? They get it.
So it wasn't awkward at all when I started talking about my nightmares. (Yes, I had another one last night.) C is pregnant with what they hope to be their rainbow, and she's 6 weeks ahead of me. She mentioned she had been having bad dreams as well, and I perked up immediately.
At least it's not just me!
Maybe I'm not crazy!
Could this be normal?
So I just asked her...what was her theory? And I realized once again that C is a genius.
She told me, "Of course it's normal. When we're sleeping, that's the only time we can't control our emotions. During the day we try our hardest to keep it all inside--keep pretending to be okay. The built up stress has to leak out somewhere. So we have the nightmares."
Genius.
Because she's absolutely right. We babyloss moms live a strange double-life. A few days, weeks or months after our children die, we realize that the world keeps marching on, and sadly, we have to keep up. But we wouldn't dare leave our children behind. So in public we paint on a face of "normalcy." We tell everyone--including ourselves--that we're fine. And after some time even we start to believe that.
But grief is an overwhelming force. No matter how strong we are--no matter how thick the mask--our grief still gets to us.
And it can be truly scary.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Nightmares
Okay, last night--again--Mike shook me awake. I was sobbing in my sleep over another scary nightmare. In this horrible dream, a weird hybrid of my husband and brother was playing with Liv--but a little too rough. He was shaking her, really hard, and I was begging him to stop. She eventually stopped laughing, and I sobbed while he yelled at both of us. I couldn't move to save her--I couldn't do anything.
I'm losing it.
Today I had my regular injection of Progesterone, and figured I should mention the nightmares to my nurse, just in case she had any suggestion. Ever the supporter, she mentioned that if this keeps going on long-term, we'll talk to the doctor about my options. There might be risks, but insanity is pretty risky, too. But that's a far-off discussion.
Anyway, as I was talking to her, I felt myself start to slip. I realize that right here, right now, 16 weeks is where I lose it. I have lost my grip on the numbness that kept me safe for so long. I have lost the shield that keeps me from reliving my son's short life in this pregnancy. I have lost the protective distance I kept between myself and this little life inside me.
It's over. I've lost it.
So what now? Well, apparently when those walls come down, my first inclination is to hide, hide, hide. I've barely left my house in two days. I have three emails waiting for a response in my inbox--which are kind of important. And what, you might ask, am I doing in my little cave?
I don't know.
Worrying? Staring at my newly-discovered bump? Panicking? Yeah, panicking seems fair. Today I called Mike freaking out about the baby names we've chosen because up until this week, I've honestly not given them a second thought. As if deep down, I wasn't sure we had any use for names. But suddenly we're creeping up on the anatomy scan.
And this is all just a little too real.
You see, with your first pregnancy, no one tells you anything except pregnancy is sunshine and puppies and maybe a little morning sickness. Your hair and nails will benefit from the prenatal vitamins. You'll have a glow.
Your first loss tells you that while this might be true, it couldn't be less important. You realize just a minute too late that every day of pregnancy is a delicate gift that you must take the time to be grateful for. You lament not cherishing every kick, every surge of heartburn.
Your first pregnancy after loss, you've lost the naivety. You know full well you should celebrate every single moment and kick and trip to the doctor for your millionth shot. But some of us are just a little too scared. Some of us are scared to death.
Yes, I know this sounds an awful lot like yesterday's post, but until today, I hadn't taken the time to say out loud to another person exactly how I was feeling. And today, when I spoke up...
I lost it.
I'm losing it.
Today I had my regular injection of Progesterone, and figured I should mention the nightmares to my nurse, just in case she had any suggestion. Ever the supporter, she mentioned that if this keeps going on long-term, we'll talk to the doctor about my options. There might be risks, but insanity is pretty risky, too. But that's a far-off discussion.
Anyway, as I was talking to her, I felt myself start to slip. I realize that right here, right now, 16 weeks is where I lose it. I have lost my grip on the numbness that kept me safe for so long. I have lost the shield that keeps me from reliving my son's short life in this pregnancy. I have lost the protective distance I kept between myself and this little life inside me.
It's over. I've lost it.
So what now? Well, apparently when those walls come down, my first inclination is to hide, hide, hide. I've barely left my house in two days. I have three emails waiting for a response in my inbox--which are kind of important. And what, you might ask, am I doing in my little cave?
I don't know.
Worrying? Staring at my newly-discovered bump? Panicking? Yeah, panicking seems fair. Today I called Mike freaking out about the baby names we've chosen because up until this week, I've honestly not given them a second thought. As if deep down, I wasn't sure we had any use for names. But suddenly we're creeping up on the anatomy scan.
And this is all just a little too real.
You see, with your first pregnancy, no one tells you anything except pregnancy is sunshine and puppies and maybe a little morning sickness. Your hair and nails will benefit from the prenatal vitamins. You'll have a glow.
Your first loss tells you that while this might be true, it couldn't be less important. You realize just a minute too late that every day of pregnancy is a delicate gift that you must take the time to be grateful for. You lament not cherishing every kick, every surge of heartburn.
Your first pregnancy after loss, you've lost the naivety. You know full well you should celebrate every single moment and kick and trip to the doctor for your millionth shot. But some of us are just a little too scared. Some of us are scared to death.
Yes, I know this sounds an awful lot like yesterday's post, but until today, I hadn't taken the time to say out loud to another person exactly how I was feeling. And today, when I spoke up...
I lost it.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Two Strange Developments
So, I'm 16 weeks 4 days now with M, and we're having a strange time recently. Of course, most of that is probably due to the toddler who has decided to start her terrible twos about 8 months too early. I'm beginning to suspect she knows I'm pregnant and cannot have a stiff drink the moment Daddy comes home.
Anyway, for about the tenth time in the past month, last night I woke up sobbing. I've been having terrible nightmares that generally end in Mike having to shake me awake and console me back to sleep.
Last night was pretty scary. Mike was a soldier suffering from PTSD, and during his treatment, somehow Liv and I were able to enter one of his flashbacks. He was walking through an old prison which was ankle-deep in rotting pumpkins. Slowly, zombies appeared before us, reaching out, trying to grab Liv. Mike was behind me, crying, saying he didn't want to die. I kept pushing forward, scared, but reminded him that "even if you do, at least you'll have someone wonderful to look forward to meeting in Heaven."
I woke up sobbing.
I hate these nightmares. But I keep having them, despite having a generally wonderful day yesterday (disregarding the terrible twos).
But I have a theory, based on my newest development. I'm beginning to accept and become conscious of my pregnancy. Yesterday I put on an old t-shirt and noticed a baby bump that was just weeks ago a malformed blob. I'm 16 days from finding out M's gender. This baby is slowly becoming something I cannot put out of my mind. And I'm more afraid than ever.
Obviously.
Here's hoping that week 25 will bring a little comfort my way. For the next 9 weeks...I guess I'll just steer clear of scary movies.
...off to deal with the toddler.
Anyway, for about the tenth time in the past month, last night I woke up sobbing. I've been having terrible nightmares that generally end in Mike having to shake me awake and console me back to sleep.
Last night was pretty scary. Mike was a soldier suffering from PTSD, and during his treatment, somehow Liv and I were able to enter one of his flashbacks. He was walking through an old prison which was ankle-deep in rotting pumpkins. Slowly, zombies appeared before us, reaching out, trying to grab Liv. Mike was behind me, crying, saying he didn't want to die. I kept pushing forward, scared, but reminded him that "even if you do, at least you'll have someone wonderful to look forward to meeting in Heaven."
I woke up sobbing.
I hate these nightmares. But I keep having them, despite having a generally wonderful day yesterday (disregarding the terrible twos).
But I have a theory, based on my newest development. I'm beginning to accept and become conscious of my pregnancy. Yesterday I put on an old t-shirt and noticed a baby bump that was just weeks ago a malformed blob. I'm 16 days from finding out M's gender. This baby is slowly becoming something I cannot put out of my mind. And I'm more afraid than ever.
Obviously.
Here's hoping that week 25 will bring a little comfort my way. For the next 9 weeks...I guess I'll just steer clear of scary movies.
...off to deal with the toddler.
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