Losing the Battle…

October 6, 2009

I heard this quote this morning on NPR:

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ” – Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms.

I had forgotten about this book and this quote having read it YEARS ago.  When the person being interviewed said the quote, he was referencing his own war experiences.  He mistakenly thought the quote was a reflection of the character “Henry” and, by extension, Hemingway’s experience of being wounded in a mortar attack in Italy during World War I.

In fact, the quote is made by the character “Henry” in reference to his son being born still, not war.  I realized as I was driving that while the interviewee attributed the quote to the wrong loss for the main character, death of our boys was like a battle.  It was like a war.  I’m hurt, I’m bruised and bloodied.  Hubby is wounded – there exists collateral damage in our life.  There is tremendous loss and a deep well of anger.  There are days when The Battle of Grief and Loss is more costly than any other war I can think of…There are days when I’m sure I’m losing The Battle and those are days I am grateful for The Silent Army…

I just wish The Battle would end soon….

The Joy of….

August 20, 2009

I recently wrote to someone that I have lost my joy.  The joy I used to have for life is gone and I don’t know how to get it back.  I have brief moments of happiness but other than that, I am an emotional wasteland of pain, anger, jealousy, rage, fear, and disappointment.  I have things that I am very grateful for (like Hubby, doggies, and my wonderful friends – both physical and bloggy) but that’s not the same as joy.  I feel like a candle whose light has been snuffed out and can’t be relit.

I sobbed last night in therapy, begging the therapist and Hubby to tell me what to do to feel better, to not hurt, to get my joy back, to have some peace.  I will do anything, just tell me what to do, I said.  We talked a lot about negative and irrational self-talk aka the mean, nasty voices that I hear telling me that the boys were it, I get no other children, I’m broken and defective – you know, the good stuff.  I’m supposed to counter that with “a dispute.”  So if my head tells me, “You are never going to have another child,” I’m supposed to dispute that with, “I will have another child.”  I’ll try it.

The therapist really latched on to the idea of adoption.  She ran with that idea, offering to help us find resources and contacts and then she alluded to the fact that she didn’t think I was emotionally capable of conceiving and carrying a child in my present state and that we might need to take a break while exploring adoption.  That really hurt.  Prehaps it’s true but it still hurt.  I sort of shutdown at that point.  I’m not willing to give up the idea of getting pregnant and carrying a child right now.  Hubby and I agreed to keep trying while exploring the possiblity of adoption.  Her comment sort of overshadowed any excitement that I was feeling for making the decision to try to adopt and left me feeling sad and hurt (thus, possibly, proving her point that I am an emotionally fragile mess that needs electro-shock therapy). 

Along those same lines and possibly providing more evidence for Therapist’s theory, was the fact that I got a message last night from IAC (Independent Adoption Centers) that the information session we signed up for was full.  It wasn’t full when I signed up for it 5 days ago on their website but it is now.  Yeah, no idea how that works.  We are on the wait list for that session and signed up for the October 3rd session.  I was so upset and disappointed that I had to have Hubby return the call out of fear that my anger and snippiness towards the “keeper of the babies” would harm our chances of sitting down with these people.  Again, probably not the rational response the rest of the world would have but I’m starting to understand that not much of what goes on in my head these days is rational.

I’m an irrational, joyless, emotionally fragile lostbabymama and at this point, I think we can safely say, I’m not even surviving anymore….I’m in real trouble, aren’t I?

Quiet

August 4, 2009

I know that I have been quiet. 

I should be planning a first birthday party for my boys this weekend and I’m not. 

I don’t know what to do with how bad I feel without them.

A Second Poem…

July 21, 2009

Amy from Surviving the Day sent me this poem yesterday.  I love it, I think it’s perfect – I love the two petals.  It’s another one to add to my collection of “things”.  Not sure what I am doing with these “things” yet but I’m leaning towards a box…Still no word from the friend regarding the certificates.  I understand it’s hard to think about and I’m going to be patient until I hear from her.  Thank you for all the amazing thoughts and words…my little invisible army…thanks.
MEMORY
My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour – 
‘Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue moon in May – 
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.
~ Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Hiding

July 9, 2009

I’ve been hiding.  I admit it.  Except for a few select people, I don’t want to be around anyone.  I’ve been bad about returning calls, answering emails, accepting invitations.  I’ve used the excuse that I’ve been busy with work – which is partially true.  With several people being on vacation, I have been busy but that’s not the total reason.

I’m tired of hearing about this person is pregnant or that person just had their baby…it’s hard on me.  As much as I want to be that person who can rise above all of the pain and grief that I still feel and be happy for someone else…I can’t.  And honestly, I am too tired to pretend anymore.  If that makes me a bad person, that’s fine, I can live with that.  I’m protecting myself and while I hate that some people’s feelings are going to get hurt, I’m too sad and too broken to care anymore.  Congratulations and call me when it’s over.

And I realize that separating myself from people is not good.  I get that.  Particularly with the depression looming over me.  But honestly, I am tired of being the only person at the party with no kids.  I swear to God, if I hear one more person say, “I went off birth control and got pregnant the next month!”  Guess what?  So did I.  The boys still died.  Or I just love when the conversation drifts to, “oh and when I was delivering…”  Just once, I’m going to pipe up and say, “really? I don’t remember that but that could be the massive amounts of morphine that was coursing through my veins so that I would actually NOT remember delivering two dead babies…”

See, probably shouldn’t be around people anyway….

I’ve never been someone who sleeps well.  Even as a kid, I would sleep sporadically.  In college and law school, I required 4-5 hours a night (of course, there were naps to be taken too).  I take a long time to fall asleep and my mind is easily distracted particularly because I worry a lot.  People laugh when I tell them that I am usually in bed at 9:30 or 10:00pm because it will take me a good hour or so to finally pass out.  I think that’s why when I do falling asleep, I sleep like I’ve got earplugs in…nothing will wake me it seems…I go through cycles where I do okay and then I will have bouts of fitful, fragmented sleep.  Maybe this happens to everyone…I don’t know.  Reading before bed helps, so does consistent exercise…

I mention this because when we initially lost the boys, my biggest reaction was the lack of sleep and that didn’t surprise me.  Take a person who already doesn’t sleep well and throw in the weighty grief of losing two children and of course, I’m not going to sleep.  The result?  You get one tired me.  And when I did finally sleep, I would dream the same dream over and over.  Little baby boys crying and I couldn’t find them.  I would search and search and they would be just out of reach to me…telling isn’t it?

Last night I had a new version of the dream.  This is the first time in months, I’ve dreamed about them.  I was standing on a cliff, screaming their names…at the top of my lungs, I was screaming for them.  I woke up about 4 times last night with the same dream over and over.  Needless to say, I didn’t get up at 5am for bootcamp this morning.

And I feel like crap today.  Not only because I didn’t sleep worth a damn but I am obviously, completely and totally disturbed by this dream.  I can still feel what it was like to stand on that cliff and want my boys so badly.  Screaming for them.  I know they aren’t lost, they are dead – I know that – but to me, it feels the same, I guess…

I don’t know what to do with this today…

Baby Boys

April 7, 2009

Beans:

I miss you terribly and I love you. 

I cannot believe it’s been a year since you were delivered but your Dad and I will always love you and hold you in our hearts.

Love,

Your Mommy.