Perspectives

It's interesting how your whole perspective shifts during grief. Ken put an old tv in the bedroom, so we can watch movies at night before bed. Friday night I ended up watching "Sleepless in Seattle", a classic feel good movie for me growing up.
Until it came to the part where Sam (Tom Hanks) is on the phone with Dr Marsha Fieldstone, and she asks how he's coping a year and a half after his wife died, and what he's going to do.
From the movie: "Well I'm going to get out of bed every morning, breathe in and out all day long. And after a while I wont have to remind my self to get out of bed and breathe in and out... and after a while I wont have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a little while."

This really struck me. I've seen the movie a million times, and as sad as that part is, I never truly understood it until a couple of days ago. All I could think was "Hm... wow, I actually really understand that". It didn't really make me sad, it just struck me hard in the pit of my stomach, how deeply I understand how he must have been feeling. How sometimes I do have to remind myself to breathe in and out.

So my second movie perspective came from "Steel Magnolias", another movie I've watched countless times growing up and love. I couldn't help but cry at the part where Shelby (Julia Roberts) explains why she almost didn't want to marry her fiance, she thought he was throwing his chance of having children out the window because she couldn't carry a child due to a chronic illness.
From the movie: "Jackson said, Shelby don't be stupid. There's lots of children out there that need good homes. We'll adopt ten of them. We'll buy them if we have to"
I couldn't help it, the tears welled up and spilled over, and Ken just gave me a hug. It hit a little too close to home, and it was a part I completely forgot about. I understand EXACTLY how Shelby felt at that moment, I've had fears that Ken won't want to be with me either if he can't be a father.

It's interesting how your whole perspective on life just shifts slightly due to grief, and how well I can relate to those characters in movies I love who are experiencing similar emotions and hardships through their grief. Grief is such a weird emotional roller coaster. There is no predictability whatsoever, and things that were fine 6 months ago now seem like a mountain that is impossible to climb. When will the load that is my grief get lighter, easier to carry?

Broken

I almost broke down in the middle of grocery shopping in Walmart yesterday. It was a very difficult weekend, between Ken and I having a major fight (which for us isn't even yelling, it's laying in bed crying together) dealing with things in our marriage, and the reality and finality of having only 2 more days of work I guess finally hit me. All of this: the miscarriages, my marriage going through a rough patch, and my job being over have really taken a toll on me. Between the stress I'm always carrying in the back of my mind, and the stress of my finances, it was almost like I couldn't go on, like I needed to just fall to my knees in the middle of the store. I feel so broken, like I'm trying to climb a vertical mountain 10 miles high. It doesn't get easier every day, it seems to get more difficult.

Perfect

I was driving to work today and right before getting on the highway, I received a couple of texts in response to ones I had sent the previous day. After reading and responding again, I was thinking about my miscarriages and my disappointment and anger and everything I've been feeling up until now. And I have another emotion to add to the list, it came up suddenly as I was thinking. Guilt. Not guilt in a way that I feel guilt that my miscarriages happened because I did or did not do something (which is there too, but not nearly as much anymore)... but guilt in the way that I'm disappointing people. I know so many of my family, friends, co-workers, want me to have a baby, are excited for me to, say all the time what I wonderful mom I will be, and I feel like I'm disappointing them by having these struggles with carrying. I never imagined having a baby would be something I'd struggle with, I always thought it would be perfect. I know it's impossible to have anything be perfect, or be a perfect person, but I honestly never thought I'd have a problem. And now that I do I almost feel bad for everyone, knowing they feel bad for me and wish me the best, and I can't give them what they expect of me. It's such a weird feeling, but it's one I can't shake.
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I want this to be over. I want to "get over it". I want to stop the random crying, the always thinking about it, the getting angry at people for things that are not their fault regarding children or pregnancy, the no one understanding. I want the fear to go, I want the intimacy back in my relationship with Ken (not just sex), I want to let go of all my bad feelings and hardened feelings, the shield I've built up around myself to be taken down, I want to be genuinely happy again. I want the guard on my heart to soften, the mask of happiness on my face to melt, and be true, not a facade. I want to wake up and have all this be a dream.
I am so grateful for my husband though. Ken is my rock, the force that keeps me grounded, my best friend, the only one I want to see or hear at the end of a long day. I miss him during the 8 hours we're apart for work, and seeings his pictures when he's not here makes me smile and my heart sing. I don't know what I'd do without him in this time of stress, fear, and unhappiness.

Heart Heart Heartbreak

I know this makes me a bad person, and probably a bad friend too, but I honestly can't help it. On my lunch break at work I was checking facebook as usual, and I got a big shock. A dear friend of mine from high school is pregnant. My honest first reaction was anger. And I hate that. I wish her all the best and I hope her baby is well, full term, healthy, all that she hopes and dreams. But it's not fair. Not fair at all. My first reaction may have been anger (not at her, but at the situation) but then my heart broke. It's so hard when people who I don't honestly think were trying or whatever, getting pregnant and having babies, and here I am, Ken and I have been struggling for over 6 months. I was upset when I went back to work, but driving home with nothing but my thoughts and my iPod, I started to cry. I can't help but be so depressed about all this, it's so hard to deal with. It's constantly in the back of my mind, like a nonstop itch that I can't get rid of. And I don't know how to heal, to get over it, to be ok again. No one I'm close with understands, and ken obviously has no clue what I'm feeling. It's like the world keeps turning and I;m the only one stuck in one spot, wondering how to go again.

Sad

This is a little late, but I need to write it nonetheless. I feel horrible. I called my mom on Mother's day to wish her a happy day, and she didn't answer (neither did Cyndi, sad) but she left me a voice mail the next day. My mom said that she appreciated me calling, but the day wasn't happy for her either. She said she kept thinking of me all day, wishing I could still be pregnant and celebrating with her. I appreciate her concern for me, and the obvious rough day I had, but it makes me also feel horrible at the same knowing that her day sucked because my day sucked. Bleh. I hate knowing that I was partly the reason my mom didn't get to enjoy Mother's Day. And I know it's not my fault but I still feel bad.

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I haven't gone to the doctor yet, I want to wait a little more. And I think I'm going to another doctor, my older sister's doctor in Enumclaw. I want to meet with him first before I try to get pregnant again. I've decided at the start of next week too I'm going to start taking my prenatals again, to get my health back on track for when we are ready to try again. Things are still really uncertain here, but I think we're moving toward healing and getting closer to want to start trying.
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My friend Amy told me that there is an organized walk for the TEARS Foundation on June 11th, kind of a memorial thing and fundraiser for people who have lost children (the foundation helps parents pay for funeral expenses and graveside things like headstones for when a child dies.) and she's walking in commemoration of my two lost babies. I'm going to walk with her, and I think it will help. Anyone who is interested in walking with us is more than welcome, just let me know. June 11th, 10 am at Cheney Stadium here in Tacoma. 

Conflicted

So today I got my first period after the D&C. And all day I've been feeling scared and conflicted. I want a baby so bad, but I'm scared of trying again. I honestly don't think I could handle another miscarriage. I haven't talked to the doctor yet since I had my blood tests done, so I guess that's step one. But I'm still scared to death in the back of my mind. I don't know what to do. I really hope it's an easy fix like my thyroid or the progesterone.

Morther's Day

As much as I love my mom, and my mom in law Cyndi, and appreciate all they do and what all the other mom's out there do, and especially those I love dearly, I wish it wasn't mother's day. It's kind of making me feel like crap to see all the happy Mother's Day posts on Facebook, and everyone posting about their kids birthday's, birth weights, how much they love them, etc. Or a person saying happy Mother's Day to everyone we work with besides me. I didn't expect to feel like this, and I don't want to ruin anyone's day with my depressive feelings, but this really sucks.

The Compassionate Friends, Olympia Chapter

Tonight was my support group, my first meeting. It's called The Compassionate Friends, and there are chapters all over the country. It's a group for those who have experienced the loss of a child in their life... whether miscarriage, stillborn, child death, or death of a sibling (which there was a young man there with his mom, who lost a sister/daughter, which I thought was awesome they came together). I was a little upset at the possibility of not going due to car troubles, but it resolved itself and I made it to Olympia with extra time to get a small sandwich and a drink before the group. There was about 15 people total, and right from walking in the front door everyone was very polite, inviting, understanding. A woman sitting next to me thought I was in school, which I thought was kind of funny, and was funny to see her face when I said I wasn't. The group was pretty diverse, and it made me nervous for the first 10-15 minutes being obviously the youngest one. The majority of the people there are over 40, the closest to my age was probably only like 32 or 35. We started (after the leader welcoming me and saying a little about the group and this chapter) with the leader reading The Compassionate Friends credo, which made me cry from the very moment he started reading. Took all of 4 minutes into the meeting for me to start crying. We then went around the room and briefly (or longly) told our story of who we lost. There were all kind of stories: suicide, drug overdose, illness, and my own story of miscarriage. We went around again to add any other details or to talk in general, and people commented and discussed certain things. We then all stood up and held hands, and said the name of our loved one and an "I love you" or "I miss you", and the meeting was over. Several of the women came to hug me or talk to me after the meeting, and even one of the older men came over to give me a hug. Three women asked if I was coming back, and I told them of course. One of the other men watched me walk to my car as I left, which I thought was nice. Even though I cried pretty much the entire time, especially when I was speaking (guess I'm not so over the telling people about it like I thought), it was a positive experience, and I definitely want to go to the next meeting in June.

Hate It

So everything is not peachy keen in the Dudley household. Due to an accident (without going into the details), I may be out of work very soon. On the day I found out about this, I couldn't help but think that maybe the miscarriage was a good thing. Being 16 weeks pregnant and being out of work would be horrible. And I hate myself for thinking that, but I couldn't help it. How can I think like that? My heart and my head are saying two different things right now... my head says to wait, to let myself fully heal or something before trying again, but my heart wants a baby so much. I'm not sue how Ken feels about it anymore, since going into the military so quickly has been put on hold. I need to talk to him about it though, see how he is feeling.
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I've found I can easily talk about what happened now, without getting emotional, which I think is a step in the right direction. I'm also going to a support group tonight in Olympia called The Compassionate Friends who deal with child loss (miscarriage, stillbirth, and child death) and I'm really hoping that it helps. I know that losing the baby has had a profound affect on my life, but I don't think that this blog is going to help me through it alone. I know it's hard for people to understand or know what to say when I bring it up or it somehow comes into conversation, and I don't know anyone else personally or profoundly that knows what I'm going through, so I'm really hoping being in a group will help me sort through everything.