Don't Want To

Ya'll, I am FREAKING OUT. The next step forward is just more awful than I can contemplate right now. Let me just tell you now that this is about to get graphic and awful... again... I couldn't throw away my baby. It was more than I could bear. I kept as much tissue as I could (it's in the freezer), and now I have to deal with it.

My mama found a box for me, and with the help of a friend she found some liturgy to read. I just don't know if I can handle something so structured.

This baby didn't make it any farther along it's journey than the others, and I didn't have anything to bury with them. It's my body that created this situation, and it feels weird to put the focus on this particular pregnancy when it shouldn't have been any different than the others.

Today I contemplated building a fire in our chiminea and saying goodbye on my own, but I don't want to presume that The Man doesn't need to be there... maybe it's important to him to say good bye as well... I don't know what he wants, and that worries me. He's been so busy lately that he's not here even when he's around. I'm working overtime at not freaking out. This is how his addictive cycle starts. He lets himself compartmentalize in order to get through what needs to be done for work, and then he's able to keep compartmentalizing and rationalizing... but it's not my battle to fight. It's his. All I can do is be a living reminder of why he wants to recover. Of course, I'm so whacked out right now that I'd pretty much kill for an addiction of my own to retreat into... o.k. fine. I don't really want that... but I'd dearly love a reason to act out.

I feel lost right now. I feel desperate to claim control over SOMETHING. Anything. I want to go back to work. I want to contribute to our family and this world. I want to stop losing my temper with my daughter. I want to get some sleep that feels like rest. I want to stop worrying that The Man will fall into addictive patterns. I want to feel as confident as I keep telling everyone that I am.

What the fuck am I going to do with the baby?

Making Room

There is not a lot of room for grief in our society. Instead of offering you a place to be sad, most people offer platitudes (it happens for a reason) and reasons why you should have perked up by now (you still have your healthy child).

To a large degree, most folks seem to have lost the ability to empathize. A good friend of mine lost her brother to leukemia when we were in our early twenties. As grief does, it would occasionally wash over her in waves. Friends would ask her what was wrong. 'I'm sad about my brother.' 'Wasn't that, like, last year?'

I had a massage client once who was trying to grieve a loss. She had been stoic for so long because showing her pain meant listening to 'well meaning' persons lecture her on how good her life still was. I made space for her grief, and she cried through her session. It was one of the most wonderful moments of my career. I felt blessed to have been a part of her process.

My own grief has felt like a cartoon amoeba. A little bit taller than me, and shadowing my every move. Sometimes It just hangs out near me and tickles the edge of my awareness with it's cilia. Other times it gloms on to part of me, but leaves me able to function. Yesterday, it engulfed me. It was hard to breathe and I cried every time that I slowed down even briefly. It left me hollow-eyed, unable to sleep and drained. 

I don't have time for this. The Toddler is an emotional sponge. She has taken my grief and turned it into endless whining tantrums and sleepless anguish. Even now she's glued to the floor of her room with her face pressed into the crack under her door BEGGING me to let her out. Protesting furiously that she can't sleep. She's been there for half an hour. I, on the other hand, am so tired that I can barely function. Yesterday, I fell asleep on her floor while she played boisterously. I didn't even wake up fully when The Man came home and took her. Today, after a mostly sleepless night, I broke down crying and begged her for sleep. She patted my face, hugged me, and announced that she wanted to 'go watch t.v. other room'.

Where is my room to grieve? How do I make the space to heal? 

Just to Clarify

When I look at what I've written for this blog, it seems like The Man isn't here. He is. He's loving us and taking care of us and doing the best that he can - just like me. He's still going to meetings. He still answers any questions that I have and allows me the space to act crazy as I try to work through all of this.

This blog is my story. I don't feel like it's my place to try and tell his story. Not that you asked... I just wanted to give him some credit for the good things that he does... especially since this is my space to bash him for the bad ones...

Anatomy of a Loss

You probably don't want to read this. It's a very graphic post. I'm writing it in order to clear it out of my head - like a Harry Potter pensieve. This is my outlet.

I’m not even sure what to say. I feel like writing about what actually happened might help me make sense of it, but it won’t. Because this doesn’t make sense. There isn’t a cut and dried reason for what is happening.

On Tuesday, I bent down to pick up The Toddler, and felt a small rush of fluid. It was a small amount of blood, and it stopped soon after.

On Wednesday, the same thing happened. I called the midwife group. I was told that it’s fairly common to spot when you squat down… and not to squat.

Wednesday night, I started cramping and the spotting continued. I called the on-call doctor. I told him that I was worried that I was miscarrying, but I didn’t think that there was anything that could be done if I was. He he was very kind, and he confirmed my thought, but said that I was always welcome to head to the ER if I felt overwhelmed or in medical danger.

I spent Thursday on the couch hoping to stop the spotting. The Toddler was strangely accommodating. We watched tv and napped. Later that night, I called my mom and cried a lot.

After I dropped my sweet girl off at Parent’s Day Out on Friday, I called the midwife group. My bleeding had increased. They asked me to come in immediately for a sonogram.

The sonographer's room had a big tv screen mounted up near the ceiling. When she began, I could see the embryonic sac and a circle that should have had a beating heart. I tried to tell myself that she was taking still images in order to measure. Then I took a deep breath and said 'there's no heartbeat.' She very kindly said 'no, I'm so sorry, but there's not. My measurements are showing right at six weeks. I take it that you're farther along than that?' 'Ten weeks' I said. She was amazed that I could interpret the image. 'Are you a nurse too?' 'No. I just pay attention...'

I went back to the midwife for a consultation. She was wonderful. Just the right mixture of sympathy, information and anger for what I had to go though. She told me that I had had a 'missed miscarriage' - the embryo stops growing, but your body doesn't get the message right away, and still thinks that you're pregnant.She offered to set up a d & c, but agreed that allowing my body to take care of itself was a healthier option. She prepared me for the fact that it could take up to another month before my body was ready to cleanse itself. We talked about how emotionally hard it might be to wait. She offered to test any tissue that I was able to keep for chromosomal anomalies - no thank you. She told me that I could meet with a neonatologist for testing before we tried for another pregnancy. She hugged me for a long time.


I thought that since I had miscarried previously, that I knew what was in store. I didn't ask enough questions.

As I drove home, a loop began to play in my head... 'the baby stopped growing at about 6 weeks. 4 weeks ago... My body has been carrying a dead embryo for four weeks. All this time I’ve been bloating, nauseated, dealing with heartburn, making plans. My body still thought it was pregnant. I look pregnant. I bought new maternity clothes.'

My mom and dad took the baby girl for the night. The Man told me that I am beautiful, and took me out on a date. He was wonderful. He took all of his cues from me. He took me to a movie and plied me with wine. He took me home and stuffed me with more wine and some dessert. We were just… together.

The next morning, I woke up just before my mama called to say that our darling was awake and asking for me. She brought her home, and since I felt fine, the two of us headed out for The Man’s office to help him rearrange his furniture and clean up.

I should have stayed home. I started contracting in earnest around 9 am. Soon after, I felt the pressure on my tailbone that signals movement down and out the cervix. The Man kept the baby girl occupied. I spent the next hour and a half breathing through contractions every 5 to 10 minutes and losing blood and tissue at a steady rate. I felt like a lunatic. Acting normal then running to the bathroom. We weren't the only ones there, so I had to keep it together and I was in so much pain that I couldn't drive myself home.

I finally had to leave. I had The Man drive the kiddo, and I drove his car. By the time I got home, I was crying so hard that I almost couldn't see.


I continued to contract and cramp for all of Saturday. I spent most of the day alone in our bedroom resting and trying to nap.


Sunday, I lost a little more tissue, and continued to bleed heavily.


Monday, I felt pretty good when I woke up. I even scheduled a playdate for The Toddler and a lunch date for me, but by the time we got back to the kiddos, I was feeling odd, and my bleeding had been steadily increasing for several hours.I eventually had an extremely intense contraction cycle, and passed a very large amount of tissue. When that happened, my heart rate shot up, and I was nauseated. I almost passed out. I called mama to come and take me to the emergency room. We dropped The Toddler off with friends, and called The Man to meet us there. 


I was convinced that I was hemorrhaging. I could feel blood rushing out of my body, and I almost passed out several times on the way there. When I was admitted to the ER and the nurse was helping me change, there was almost no visible blood. They did a long ultrasound and a pelvic exam. I'm fine. No problems. No remaining tissue. My cervix was closed. By the time we left (maybe 2 1/2 hours later), I felt fine. Let me rephrase that - I felt physically fine, but I was completely bewildered by how awful I felt earlier, I was angry at myself for having scared my family and friends, and I was furious that we had to spend $150 to be told that I was fine. By the time we got home, I felt crappy again.


I was very uncomfortable for the rest of the night. Looking back, I'm fairly certain that the cramping I felt then was my uterus contracting down to it's normal size, but at the time I was terrified that there was something really, really wrong and I was afraid to say anything because I already felt like The Boy Who Cried Wolf.


Tuesday, more bouts of tailbone-tugging contractions. More heavy bleeding and lots more clots. Wednesday, same as Tuesday. I started to get worried again. If all of the tissue is gone, why is the bleeding still so intense, and what is trying to clot? I finally caved in and called my midwife again. She empathized with my frustrations, but told me that I was still within the range of 'normal'. Everybody's body reacts differently. Since I felt like the bleeding had slightly decreased, she was encouraged. She said that since my cervix had closed, the rounds of contractions were actually opening it again to release the built up blood. She told me to wait another day or two, and if the bleeding increased or didn't continue to decrease by Friday afternoon, then call her again. A few hours later, I lost ANOTHER piece of tissue. How could they have missed it? It was not tiny! Almost immediately, the bleeding slowed to practically nothing.


By Thursday morning, my baby belly was gone. The boating finally stopped - my intestines are working again!


It's Friday, and I finally feel more like me. I'm in regular clothes. I'm not in pain, and the bleeding is almost over. I PLAYED with my baby girl instead of encouraging her to play by herself. I got stuff done for our family.


Now I just have to make the space to deal with the emotion of what just happened. The physical part I understand. I hate it, but I get it. Now is the time when I have to bury the baby I never got to meet and say good bye. I'm not ready.

:-(

I thought that knowing this was coming and having to wait for it was the worst part. I was wrong. Going through it is the worst part.

...........

The baby stopped growing about a month ago. My body is just now catching up. All that is left is waiting and bleeding and pain.

I don't want to do this. I don't want to be strong. I want to howl and rage and I want SOMEBODY to fix this.

When will it be my turn for joy again?

Do Over

Today sucked. It sucked when I was still awake with a toddler at midnight, and it only went downhill from there.

I had a fight with my mom just after I woke up. I haven't had a fight with my mom since high school.

My laptop took a dirt nap. There's nothing important on it. Just every photo that I've taken of my daughter since the instant of her birth.

Our stupid pool has been cloudy for over a week. Not even the guy we PAY to keep our pool nice has been able to fix it. When I went out to backwash the filter, I slammed my finger in the lever and covered myself - head to fucking toe - in dirty, cloudy water.

The child who refused to sleep last night also refused a nap. She was pretty nice about it, but she did not nap. Therefore, I did not get a break or a rest. Even people who work for minimum wage get breaks.

Because of the exhaustion and general freaked-out-ed-ness, I missed a reunion committee meeting tonight. I have since received several snarky messages - even though I've already apologized. I absolutely cannot stand to be talked down to and deliberately misunderstood. I felt like laying my Greek tragedy of a day out for this woman even though I don't owe her anything... but she would only intentionally misconstrue what I say and stay mad anyway. So I haven't responded, and I intend to sever communication. Good thing I'd already decided not to attend!

The icing on this shit cake? I got a damn stretch mark. I made it through my entire last pregnancy with no new stretch marks. The existing ones from my teen years are finally beginning to mellow, and I was feeling a bit smug about the whole thing. Until tonight. I had a tugging pain just below my belly button. I grabbed the massage bar and attempted to ease it. All I could feel at first is the absolute void of muscle tissue down the center of my belly - no support there! As the pain eased, I could feel a definite line in the tissue. A break. A tear. A new stretch mark. In the center of my belly.

And now I can't sleep. Again.

I demand a do over.

*** Note: My life is not shitty. I know that for a fact. This is my place to vent, and as such, it can get a little negative over here. This will blow over, Folks. Just wait. Tomorrow will be a new day full of it's own share of unpaid bills, dirty dishes and temper tantrums. It's all in how you go about it. Perhaps tomorrow I'll have the strength to fight for good instead of surrendering to the forces of negativity. We'll see...

What's Different?

So, I finally got around to voicing my biggest concern to The Man : 'What has changed? You used to spend hours on your addiction. That time has to be filled. How are you filling it without the addiction?'

You see, I've been anxious a lot of the time. And by a lot, I mean A LOT. It has felt like he's telling me that  just flipped a switch and he's all better. I know that this cannot be the truth, so my fear has been that he's just lying. It's not outside the pale for me to think that. I mean, he was actively keeping a huge secret from me for almost three years. What makes me so sure that he's changed?

What he was able to tell me last night is that he's conducting his days differently. In part, he works through the twelve steps if he has a quiet minute or needs a break. Or he does part of a crossword puzzle. Mostly, he keeps a careful eye on who he wants to be, and the consequences of choosing his addiction over what he knows to be right.

Apparently, in addiction, there are three circles. The inner circle is feeding your addiction - acting out. The middle circle is the things/actions/situations that lead you to follow your addictive patterns - it leads directly to the inner circle. The outer circle is regular, healthy behavior. The key is to be keenly aware of your middle circle, and to observe your triggers before they set you off.

Having this knowledge helps. I like the idea of him having steps to follow and things that keep him from allowing himself to act out... but it doesn't keep me from acting like an asshole in my own head. I've gotta figure out what will help keep me in my own outer circle.

Just 'Off'

Today is an 'off' day. There is nothing specifically wrong. Nothing in particular happened in the preceding days. I even got plenty of sleep - sort of... but sort of enough sleep is pretty much the best that the mother of a toddler can hope for most of the time. So, in theory, I am ahead of the game. But that's not how I feel.

I feel isolated. I really only have 2 (maybe 3) friends who have kids around the age of my Darling. Only one of them is also a stay at home mom. Everybody else has wildly different schedules. I'm lonely.

I had just decided that I was ready to shove myself back into the work force (in some capacity) when I found out that I was pregnant. I had gotten myself all jazzed about being part of a community of grownups again AND having some additional income to help cover the deficits in our household budget. *sigh* I'm now questioning the timing of this baby, but, um, the baby is going to show up in February even if we're homeless... which we won't be... I'm just feeling dramatic...

SO, my stupid high school reunion. I thought that I had extricated myself from the planning, but I was still up in the air about weather or not to go. WELL, the classmate who picked up the reigns now wants help. Specifically, my help. She feels like I offered, even though I was deliberately vague... *sigh* So I told her I would help (for real this time). Then she went ahead and 'finalized' all of the details - including price - and posted it all before we could all meet. The price that she set per person is WAY above what I would pay for any meal in that venue, and it doesn't even include drinks or an actual meal - just appetizers. Now I REALLY don't want to be involved, and I sure as heck don't plan on paying that price to hang out with those folks.

The Toddler is two. Which is awesome in so many ways. It is also exhausting and frustrating in so many other ways. I have no idea what will set her off into a tantrum. I usually have no idea how to stop said tantrum once it has begun. Today at the park, she lost her shit because I was drinking water while I pushed her on the swing. Seriously? I'm not allowed to hydrate? But then she turned around and put herself down for a nap without protest. Ah. maze. ing. and probably never to be repeated. *sigh*

Because of travel for work, The Man has only attended one meeting a week for the last two weeks. This makes me very nervous. It's none of my business, and there's nothing that I can do about it. He'll either go, or he won't. He'll either learn how to get better, or he won't. But it's freaking me out.

I'm gonna take a nap.

What Now?

It hasn't even been a month. It has only been 28 strangely long days since I opened a giant can of worms disguised as a secret e-mail account. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Since then, I've become even more pregnant, even more sweaty, and even crazier. Despite The Man's fervent protestations to the contrary, I'm convinced there are more secrets left. That there is more waiting around the bend. I feel like there's a giant cartoon hammer waiting to fall... on my head.

Because of the way he went about everything - conducting encounters during work hours and on business trips - I have no idea how to begin to rebuild some sort of trust. I was so sure before that his hours completely precluded that kind of activity. That they were signs of his commitment to me and to our family. Finding out the lengths that he went to in order to deceive me means that I am left with no certainties other than a deep and abiding surety that he could be doing whatever (whoever) he wants in any. damn. moment. that he is not with me.

Part of me says 'go ahead. Do it. Fuck up again 'cause I'm outta here if you do.' The rest of me says 'Please let him be sincere. Please give him the strength to be the man that he claims to want to be.'

Since my initial fury subsided, I have been left with the deep feeling that I want this relationship to work. I understand that this sounds delusional and maybe even sad. I understand that there is still a HUGE chance that we won't make it, but I want to try.

I still need an outlet. I am driving myself crazy trying to figure out if there is anything left and/or new to find. The Man has offered to attend couples therapy or to let me go by myself if I want to be on my own.

The other night, I freaked out again, and he said that if I needed for him to leave, he understood, and would figure it out. He said that when I said it the first time, he didn't get it, but he does now... but honestly ya'll, having him gone would SUCK for me. Even without the pregnancy, I am so drained mentally and physically by raising a two-year-old, that I don't know how I'd do it alone. A lot of days, I am completely unconvinced that I am cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. I know that I could do it alone. Of course I could. I just feel like every damn thing is so hard right now. The thought of intentionally adding another hard thing infuriates me. So he stays, and we do the best that we can. Most days, that's actually pretty good.

So where does all of this leave me? I have NO idea. Hopefully by continuing to write, talk and stay in motion, I can progress in some fashion. While I absolutely hate not knowing what's next, I am beginning to accept that whatever is next, it will not happen tomorrow. There will be time involved. For both of us. He needs time to figure out what it means to live as a recovering addict. I need time to figure out if trust can be rebuilt here.