Moments Of Sanity

I am on a twin parenting board. I don’t actually post there often, I don’t really have the time. I do lurk a good deal, and occasional email in private.

I was checking in today when I learned that one of the moms who is currently pregnant again after twins found out that her baby died this week.

No parent should ever have to face that. I can’t begin to imagine facing Christmas with that hanging over you. No parent should have to be told that they have to figure out to cremate or bury, to autopsy or not, to say goodbye. No parent should have to plan a funeral. No parent should ever have to face that silent ultrasound. No parent should lose their child.

I can’t help but remember the pain. It immediately came rushing back. It’s never all that far away, but hearing things like this shove it all to the front. Every single second of dispair came crashing down on me in that moment. It took my breath away, and brought tears to my eyes.

I had planned to write much more, but I just can’t right now. I have to stop myself before I lose it. I can’t visit that place again right now.

I think I am winning the war, but not too sure. We have had a few accidents. There was the moment when I told Torie to go sit on the potty, she said no, and promptly peed on herself. There was also the 5 minutes I finally couldn’t hold it any longer myself, went to pee and came back to a massive flood. Both kids were dancing in it, so I had no clue who’d done it.

AJ loves wearing pants. He won’t take the underpants off unless he messes them up. Torie has completely embraced nudity. She is my child. AJ, my sensitive, anal retentive baby, has to have clothes on. Air touching his unclothed body seems to equal time in a torture chamber. He is firmly convinced that being without clothes is cruel and unusual torture. I guess this is what happens when your husband freaks the hell out over you letting the kids run around nude in the summer inside the house, or when he comes home and they only have a shirt on.

This has actually been less problematic than I expected. While I can not remotely call it fun, entertaining, or well, anything I really want to do, it has been ok. It has also helped me learn more about my children. That is always valuable ammunition information for the future.

One question though…..how the heck do I decide if the hyperactive boy is just moving or if he has to pee? 

I do well most of the time. Quite often it doesn’t really cross my mind that someone from our family is missing. I don’t spend much time anymore thinking about what should/could be. I usually am content with how things are, even if not always happy. There is always this awareness that someone is missing from my life, but not actually anymore than for anyone else who has passed on.

Once in a while though, something happens. It’s usually something small. Usually on a rainy day I think about her. Days that appear warm, clear, and sunny from inside but are actually cold make me think of her. Hearing the name always makes me think about her. There are other, small things. Normally, I am as prepared for it as I can be. When the small things occur, I try to make a point to remember her as a ray of hope. I try to remember some good moment along with the bad. I allow myself to feel momentarily sad, then move on.

Sometimes I am not prepared. Occasionally, something blindsides me. I was sitting on the couch this morning snuggled up with the twins. We were watching the Disney channel when Handy Manny came on. One of the characters was having a baby, and the baby’s name was Isabella. This hit me hard enough that it took my breath away. I just wasn’t expecting to hear her name.

I am home. We got home yesterday afternoon. I seem to have gotten a cold during the trip, so I didn’t spend too much time online last night. Tony is back at work today, and I am recovering from my vacation. I had a great time, even if I did miss my kids.

I did find myself getting tired of explaining that I wouldn’t be having any more children. I used to work at this business also, but quit to have the twins. There were many who supported us as we recovered from losing Bella. Many have worked with Tony while I was pregnant with the twins. I got asked more times than I can count if we were having more children ever.

I know some of my weariness at this question is because I have so many unresolved issues about the topic. I wasn’t really ready for the tubal. I couldn’t stop thinking about the doctor I know who had one after having her b/g twins, and then the girl died. She has now spent a fortune to have the tubal reversed, and has since had 2 more boys. All who know her suspect she will continue to try to have the girl. I was certainly aware I didn’t want to ever be pregnant again. I have never sucked so badly at anything in my life as I do being pregnant. I am not a happy, glowing endorsement for the condition. I even suspect the idea of me trying to do it again made my own beloved doctor consider choking me. Then there was the hysterectomy. I was much more ready for it than I was the tubal. Seriously unfun female problems helped with that, along with the fact that I had done my grieving several years earlier at the time of the tubal.

Motherhood didn’t come easy to me either. I have blogged about that several times before. I am currently too sick/lazy to link to them. I had trouble figuring out how to be a mom, a health care worker, a wife, a friend, and mostly a lover all at the same time. It took me almost losing my husband to figure it out. I still don’t balance them all that well, but at least he knows I am trying now.

Generally this past week I simply answered with something along the lines of "We have one of each and are done."  I did finally get irritated at one point and explain that not only did I not plan on having more, I might just end up slitting my wrists if I had to endure another pregnancy.

I am really glad Tony was home last night. I don’t know how well I would have done watching ER last night had I been alone. I started watching that stupid show back when I was in nursing school. It was always great for a big discussion in class, and somehow the show’s topic parallelled our class topics. I have cried my way through many an episode over the years. There are usually a couple of episodes each season that hits too close to home for me and my life.

I will never forget the one I watched after I had gotten home from the hospital after losing Bella. It was the one where the mom got sick with pre-eclampsia and died, but they were able to save the baby. Tony and I both found that one particularly painful. 

Last night was another of the same painful, torturous shows. I wish I had enough self control to just stop watching the damned show. I don’t though. Not only did I hurt for myself, Tony, our children, Bella, and our family, I hurt for Cecily and her family, and also for all the women I know who have experienced something similar. I watched that show, and wondered how I managed to escape that one complication. I had so many signs I was headed for DIC myself after Bella. I was reminded of just how lucky I am to be alive, much less have two living children.

I heard about this on my local news tonight. I promptly went to Yahoo and searched it out. I find myself sitting here with so very many feelings. I definately am excited. This is a huge medical breakthrough that could prevent many fetal deaths. There’s also a bit of envy that this wasn’t found years ago. Had it been, my daughter might be alive. I might not have gotten so sick that I almost died myself. My husband wouldn’t have had to spend days and weeks wondering if he was going to lose his wife along with his daughter.

I also can’t help but realize how many people I know, both in real life and online that wouldn’t have had to go through all they went through if more research, time, and energy had been put into this years ago.  It also comes to mind that there are so many children that were born premature, that might could have been spared the hell of the NICU and all those complications.

Sometimes it’s the little things that make me catch my breath and feel the initial pain of that loss again. I do pretty well at this point in my life. Something as simple as someone asking my children’s names, or how many I have. It almost always hits when I have to write their names. I can’t help but realize how few times my hand has actually written her name.

Yesterday was a bit of an off day for me. When I have those days, it is usually because I am hyper aware that someone is missing. There isn’t a way to prevent that, or to change it once it starts.

Right after we lost Isabella I desperately wondered if I would ever be able to move on. I was impatient to be done with the intense grieving I was experiencing. That was the most intense emotion I have ever felt. I had days where I quite literally screamed at God.  While I am a very emotional person, what I was feeling was just too much. I needed less intensity.

As time went on, the intensity did fade. There were other times it came back with a vengence, and usually when I was least prepared for it. My mother assured me those days would start coming less often. I was at times scared to not have those bad days. I was terrified she would fade from my memories. I was worried needlessly.

I was reminded sometime during the day yesterday that I am here for a reason. Twice in my life I really should have died. Both times, I was politely told not yet. My time was not yet upon me. From the time the first incident happened, I was convinced I was here for a purpose. I have not forgotten that. However, this has left me feeling as if I was simply drifting where the tides took me. It isn’t that I had no control, I just had no clue which direction to go in. I was afraid if I worked too hard on my own that I would miss the clues of what I was supposed to be doing. (I have missed those clues before, and it took me 7 years to get out of that situation.) That is not how a controlling personality operates.

Yesterday from no where thought of my purpose hit me. I don’t know why. I had originally thought it had something to do with my children. After having them I realized they were not my actual purpose. At least not directly anyway. I have been feeling lately that I am getting closer to my purpose. I don’t actually know what it is though. I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete. Tony and I were talking about it last night. I firmly believe I don’t have to search for it, it will find me. I can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. I feel like I can almost touch it I am so close.

We went to church yesterday at the same place we went before we moved. It is the church Tony’s parents attend, and the church that our daughter was placed in. I love that church. It helped me find my way again. I almost didn’t move to this house because the church is an hour away. It ws the first place in many years that I felt I could call my church home. I was raised Methodist, so I had to adapt to the Episcopal church. I love it. I have never felt quite as welcome in any other church as I have that particular one. I really do get a sense of coming home when we go there.

When we placed Isabella, it was one of the more difficult things I have done. I felt like she was dying all over again. When she first died, we had no clue how to begin to deal with the actual logistics of it. I thank God every day for the people we were surrounded with.  I quite literally could not deal with her being placed in a grave and left alone. The church did not yet have the columbariam in it, however it was in the works. It would mean that she was with us at home during the building process. When the twins were born, I knew I emotionally had to bury her before moving on with life with the twins. I knew I had to do it before I brought them home. So, on the 2nd anniversary of her death, we placed her in her niche. I had not been to church much since getting pregnant with the twins due to bed rest. I will never forget how many people were at her informal service that day. (She had a very formal memorial service on Wednesday following her death.) So many people were with us and our family in support.

The point of telling you all that is so that you can understand how hard it is for me not to "see" her every Sunday. We always sit in the trancept  near the little chapel for the columbariiam. We enter and exit through that door. I always kiss her plaque. Sometimes I sneak back in and just spend a few quite moments with her in the only real way I can. I miss her so very much. She had the same due date as the twins, April 19th. I had hoped and prayed while pregnant with her that she would be born and home with us in order to be able to come to church on Easter in my arms that year. I never got that chance. I did with the twins. They had been home one week, and were not supposed to be out. I had to take them though. I couldn’t handle not being there with my beautiful babies. I will always work very hard to be in that church on Easter Sunday. Easter is my holiday with all of my children. I need to be as close to them all that day as I can.

I hope everyone found some remote piece of the peace and happiness I found yesterday at knowing that my core family (me, Tony, and our children) were all together for a short while. I pray no one knows any part of the pain I feel today at knowing we are not all together anymore.  

I can’t decide whether or not to include a link to the church. I would never want my issues to reflect back on the church. The issues existed before the church, and have no reflection on it.