Mind Over Matter

Mind over matter. The therapist I saw after I went crazy last summer kept trying to get me to think this way. Instead of envisioning a negative outcome why not envision a positive one. Neither will prepare you if the worst does happen and it's not like focusing on the negative will make it hurt less. So, why not just think positive. At the time I was seeing her it made sense to me but I was not ready for it. I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of thinking that things were going to work out. The proverbial *&^% had just hit the fan. The mind is an incredibly powerful tool. It protects us in so many ways. It protected me in the past, it even protected me when Blaine was born. It selectively blocks out certain things we can't handle and lets in others we need. Any good doctor or midwife will tell you it can even help you overcome physical pain like those you experience in labour. Not to say that thinking positive will always result in cupcakes and butterflies. However, negative thinking almost always results in failure. If you go into a situation thinking you can't handle it then you probably won't be able to handle it. Why not give it a try? So, in the spirit of embracing this new attitude I wiped today and did not look for blood! For the first time since I found out I was pregnant I did not check the toilet paper for blood. It was literally a debate between my anxious self and my new positive self. Picture a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other... "just check it won't hurt" "but why I'm fine I don't need to check all the time" "why not, what if something is wrong, you want to catch it early on don't you" "yes but there's nothing wrong and I don't need to do this everytime" And positive Elaine won! The angel kicked the devil's butt right out of the bathroom! I really feel like I'm at a point where I can take these steps. There is nothing worse than losing a child. I would gladly suffer physical pain every minute of every day for the rest of my life to have Blaine here with me. I survived it. I always told myself I would never survive the loss of a child but I did. I am not totally responsible, I did it with the help of lots of people and God. I survived it. My mind did not completely break. I can trust it to help me get through the next several months without meds. And if I can train myself well enough then maybe I won't need to go back on them when I'm done breastfeeding either. For someone who doesn't even like to take headache medication that's huge. The idea that I can live my life without any meds. I hope this positive feeling stays with me. I hope it's not just some rush of hormones or self denial.

Anxiousness

I've been feeling slightly more anxious than usual the past couple of days. Everything is 100% fine so far and it's not even just the baby that's got me worried. I've been worried about something happening to me or to Abby or to hubby. I know it's just my anxiety. I have those moments which creep in everytime life is going well. I am great at catastrophizing things. My daughter had a cramp in her leg last night and I immediately started worrying about bone cancer and what if she loses her leg, etc etc. At least I am able to acknowledge my own issues with sanity! I'm a little worried about going off the zoloft next month. Yes, anti depressants/anti anxiety meds like this one are safe to take when pregnant but there are side effects in small percentages. I've been that 1%, not taking any chances! I know what will happen when I go off the meds and how I'm going to feel but it's worth the risk. Even if the "only" side effect Caleb would get was the shakes for a day or two after birth it's not worth it to me. So, psychiatrist and I decided to wean me off of them for the third trimester. I'm not a big fan of this guy, he's just not warm and fuzzy. I just don't want to purge my soul to him. I have kept seeing him because we are on the same wavelength when it comes to protecting the baby. It was actually his suggestion to do this and I feel good about the decision but am nervous. I've been feeling so much better on them. I remember how I felt those early days after Blaine died. I wonder if I have just reached a natural stage of grief or if the meds are responsible for my acceptance. I couldn't think before the meds. I couldn't focus on anything. I couldn't even decide what to make for dinner. I was a total mess. I know I won't be that bad now but I wonder how low I will get.

Tuesday Again? Oh Bloody *&^%

Today started off better than most. Due to a couple of early morning appts I had I actually got an extra half an hour sleep. Then it was off to therapy. Therapy session was brief. Mainly we talked about how amazing I am and how I really did it all on my own. I came into therapy with an action plan and have spearheaded my own recovery. I am the model patient. I couldn't love my therapist more at this point! So, we chatted for a bit and decided that while I would contact her if I had a relapse or needed to talk again, today would be my last official appt. I am no longer in crisis which is good but I will miss that quiet peaceful office. Then it was off to the psychiatrist. I'm not a big fan of this guy but whatever. We talked for a bit about how the meds are treating me. We talked about Blaine and how I was able to get him from the hospital and have him cremated. I did not mention to him that I sleep with the ashes although I did tell the therapist cause I know she gets it. I'm just more reserved talking to him because I feel like he might judge me. I'm sure he wouldn't but that's how I feel. I left the hospital feeling pretty darn good. Got to work. Started to go about my day. I snuck online of course to read some blogs. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Today is the 19th Tuesday. Every Tuesday will now have a number attached to it. Can't wait for the 543rd Tuesday. Today was the 19th Tuesday and I spent the exact moment of Blaine's death at the same hospital, on the same floor, talking about how much progress I've made in 19 weeks. And I was so concentrated on that that at the time I didn't even realize it. I had totally forgotten it was Tuesday. I forgot it was 8:40am. I forgot the only thing that seperated me from the scene of the crime was a corridor. So bye bye good day. I became increasingly agitated as the day wore on. Developed shoulder pain and headache. Hadn't the therapist just said how refreshed I looked? Puke. It didn't help that my IPOD battery died on me and so I had to listen to the drone of the keyboards clicking around me and the sound of people asking stupid questions. Thank God that this super nice guy I love at work brought me chocolate today. And my Mom who usually buys me lunch had plans and didn't invite me so I had to buy my own lunch! Okay that sounds like whining. But but but. I'm just frustrated that a great morning where I felt totally reassured and like I was making real progress turned into such a crappy afternoon. And that's how quick it is. One thought. One line on someone else's blog. One quick peek at the calendar. And I'm back scrambling around trying to find the sane girl again. And to top it off while I'm writing this I am talking to my sister on FB. Her and I are not really close. I love her and all and we get along but she lives in another province and we rarely rarely see each other. I'm talking every ten years rare. But still she is my sister. She is on my FB. I have a ticker on my FB that says "it's been blah blah blah since we said GOODBYE." I have an album of photos of Blaine's name which clearly is marked "Born and Died April 13, 2010" Almost all of my status updates are about finding strength in God or even "never thought she'd be so excited to pick up her sons ashes." One might think that even a casual observer might look at all of these things and think "Hmmm, did she lose a baby?" BIG LIGHTBULB GOING OFF ABOVE YOUR HEAD!!! or "Hmmm, several months ago I "liked" her status about being pregnant, wonder what's up with that?" I guess my sister never got it. She hasn't said one thing. NOT ONE THING. SHE HAS NOT SAID ONE THING. And here is the conversation we just had... the words in red were not part of the conversation but was what I was thinking at the time...

Her: hi elaine
7:03pm
Me : hey how are you doing? missing (her daughters name) I bet!!
7:04pm
Her: i am doing fine....i am missing her badly it was the hardest thing to do was saying goodbye (Really? I wouldn't know what that was like having)
7:05pm
Me : I see all of her facebook updates, she seems so grown up and like a very intelligent woman. You did an amazing job raising her.
7:11pm
Her: ya we did all i can tell you is teach them the right things and do as much as possable with them cause they grow up quick...(if they don't die first that is)
7:12pm
Me : we are trying to have another one but it's been a bit difficult since the baby died in April...can't seem to get pregnant for a third time! (ok maybe if I mention it she'll actually talk to me about it)
7:15pm
Her: yes i seen that on face book sorry for your loss...but for me baby day are over now i wait for grand baby hopefuly that is not for awail yet (really?)

ugh!!

In Treatment

Today is another blah day. I had my first appt with a shrink yesterday. * Disclaimer: I do not mean any offence by using the words "crazy" or talking about ocd in a lighthearted way. I'm not really making fun it's just my way of talking about it. * He was not warm and fuzzy. His office was a mess and he had the light off but the curtains wide open so the sun was lighting the room. He didn't look more than 45 and he was a low talker so sometimes it was hard to hear him. I didn't dislike him. I guess I was expecting a male version of my therapist. Has anyone ever seen the show "In Treatment?" It's Gabriel Byrne playing a therapist and he's got a very warm and cozy office. That's what I was hoping for. But this guy was alright, he was at least very easy to talk to although I was not as comfortable crying in front of him as I am with Dolores. This is what free health care gets you right? lol...I was hopeful after leaving his office because he does not think I'm crazy or that I am going crazy. That is a concern with me because most days I feel like I'm borderline. Like if one more trauma happens I'm going to be flipping the light switch 14 times before I leave the house. I know I shouldn't watch the show "Obsessed" or "Intervention" or "Hoarding" but I can't help it. And sadly I can now relate to these people. There were two people on "Obsessed" the other night and I totally got what they were saying. I have the same anxiety and the same thoughts. At one point the therapist on the show was telling the ocd patient to do something as part of his cognitive behaviour therapy and the ocd guy was looking at the therapist like the therapist was insane and I totally agreed with the ocd guy!! The only difference is I still have my sense of logic. But if that goes I can totally see myself cleaning the house for 20 hours a day. Logic. That is what is separating us. The shrink who I will call "Fraser" for lack of a better nickname says as long as I worry about going crazy then I won't go crazy. He didn't quite word it like that but that's the gist of it. If you think about these things from a logical perspective then they will most likely not happen to you. That gives me hope. The few compulsions that I've had since April 13th are not going to push me over the edge. That is very good news for someone who feels as if they are living at the edge. I am not going over.

Today I am feeling a lot of anxiety. I know I have to go back to work either next week or the week after. I think I'm ready but I'm still anxious about it. I've been able to solely focus on me for a month now and it's felt good. I'm also worried about how I'm going to be treated when I get back. I've been a little bored and I miss the hustle of things around the office and having lunch with my friend Lisa. I think I'm ready to go back I'm just worried that I'm not going to be able to handle the stress. I'm worried I'm going to have a breakdown right there at my desk. But I won't know unless I try right?

On a lighter note. I may be going up to my in laws again in about a month...not for sure but most likely. If you look in Blaine's gallery, I have a pic of his name written in the sand by a waterfall and also, one of his name on the beach in the sand. They are labelled "up at Papa's house" If you would like me to do one for your little one please email me lilyorange2@yahoo.ca I don't know for sure if I'm going but if I do I will definitely take some pics. There's lots of beautiful spots up there.

Back

Back to the real world. I had such a nice weekend away at my father in laws. If I won the lottery tonight I wouldn't even pack a bag I'd just be gone up there. It is so quiet and peaceful. And while I miss my creature comforts it's nice to be able to breath and sleep. I slept so peacefully, no nightmares, no waking up for hours in the middle of the night. Just sleep. And breathing. I could breath, no chest pains, no anxiety. I remember when I could feel that way everyday. When I didn't need to escape from real life to feel that good. When that was my normal.

I missed Blaine too when I was up there although I wasn't sad or depressed. I took my framed ultrasound photo with me and my little book I write his letters in. But I didn't take my painting or candle holder or the rest of my memory box. And I feel like I left him here by himself. Isn't that strange? We made sure to take a photo of his name when we were thinking of him. By the waterfalls, on a rock, at the lake across from his Papa's house. His Papa would have loved him. Even though he has two grandsons already I know Blaine would have been the favourite. His son's son. The only time I got a little depressed was when they were talking about the family name. My husband is the last on that side of the family with the last name. If he doesn't have a son then the name ends with him. And it made me sad that our son died and we may not get another one. And it isn't my husband's fault and maybe not even my fault but who knows.

Had therapy this morning and Dolores gave me a relaxation CD to listen too and see if it helps. I just can't relax. Maybe the music will help. I just have to find sometime to sit and play the CD and try not to think. Have to block everything out of my head. Might as well ask me to perform brain surgery!

A Random Act of Kindness

I'm glad I postponed writing today until this evening. I took my daughter to the wading pool at the park. I'm sitting there minding my own business when out of nowhere comes this beautiful little boy. He couldn't have been more than 18 months. He was walking but not steady, still wobbly. He walked right up to me grinning from ear to ear. And then he did the kindest thing a little boy could ever do for a dead baby momma. He put his arms around me and gave me a huge hug. I almost burst into tears. It was so sweet. His dad of course came running over apologizing about how friendly he was. I couldn't really say anything. I just said "no problem, he's such a sweetheart." And then the dad ushered him away but he kept looking back at me and smiling.

I try not to look for signs. Yes, it seems like I see more Monarch butterflies this year but maybe that's just because I didn't notice them before. But I've had more than one instance in my life where I've felt that something or someone was showing me something. Just last week when I am 80% certain I had another miscarriage I was walking over to the doctors office and two things happened. I was in a pretty pitiful mood. And out of nowhere comes this little puppy dog. He starts following me and jumping on me wanting to play. I had to walk him back towards his house because he wouldn't leave my side and go back to his owner. And then I didn't walk more than ten feet away from him and a butterfly flew right smack into my face. Were they sent to cheer me up? Was the little guy at the park sent to give me the hug that Blaine cannot?

Maybe it's cheesy but I hope so.

After I dropped Big Sis off at daycare today I was walking home in another pretty pitiful mood. And this voice came into my head and I am convinced the thoughts were put in my head by God. He was saying to me more than once "why are you in such despair? do you not know where he is? do you not know he is safe with me?" And of course I answered I know where he is and that he is perfectly happy and safe. But I am here and I am not. And the voice asked the same things over and over the entire walk home and each time I could not deny that I knew my son was perfectly happy where he was. The problem is that I am impatient, I am scared, I am sad, I am wanting him here with me. So, the voice and I did not get anything resolved this morning. But then he sent this little boy to give me a hug. One random act of kindness that has given this sad momma a smile and a sigh of happiness.

Today is just Blah

I went to my first group meeting last night with a Bereavement support group. It was very emotional. I sit here for hours reading blogs from other baby loss momma's and hearing stories but I don't actually have to see the look on the faces of these women. Last night was hard. It's hard to sit in a room with 5 other women and see the pain. To see the tears and the grief. And all I wanted to do was have a big group hug. But that would have been kind of weird right? I'm glad we went though and we will go again for sure. I think it got my husband questioning some things. He was very talkative this morning which isn't normally his style. He normally listens to me and says the reassuring things I need to hear. He's not one to sit and pour out his feelings. That's what I was hoping. I was hoping that having him around some other dads would kind of get his brain processes going. Last nights discussion was on how men and women handle grief differently. I don't think I really learnt anything. Last night was our first night so I was just a little overwhelmed by the experience. I gave a very very brief synopsis of why we were there. During it I said "and we have a living daughter at home who's five." It didn't faze me but then we got in the car to come home and it hit me. I turned to my husband and said "I never thought I'd describe Abigail as my 'living child'." That was tough.

Today I saw my therapist but really didn't have much to say. I'm just in a blah kind of mood today. I don't really want to talk about. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to do anything but eat ice cream and watch t.v. But that's not really productive. All I've been eating lately is toast and ice cream. I think I've actually lost weight so I may start a blog about it and see if I can market it as a specialty diet!!

I stopped by the gift shop at the hospital and decided to buy myself something for Blaine. So I got a really nice butterfly candle holder. I don't have a proper table or anything for his stuff yet so I've got his memory box on my dresser in the bedroom and I've got a painting for him and some knickknacks on the t.v. stand in the living room. I want to get like a little square console table to have in the corner of the living room and put all of Blaine's stuff on it. And then hope Sissy doesn't knock it over with a ball or something!! This is probably going to be a debate between my hubby and I as he made a comment before that we should keep this stuff in our room. But I want it in the living room so I can see it and so when people come over they will see it. I know he's not trying to hide it, he just thinks it's more private. But no one comes to our house except family so I want them to know I'm still thinking of him and that he's a part of the family and we're just as proud to call him our son as we are to call Abigail our daughter.

I am also thinking of having a little service for Blaine in October, that will be the 6 month mark. I've heard bad things about the 6 month mark so I want to be prepared with something special. We never had a funeral but I don't think I want anything that formal. Any ideas anyone?

I've Come Undone

I had my first therapy session today. The minute I walked into the hospital I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. I haven't been back since April 13th. The chest pains came on. I wanted to run out the door. My therapist is on the 5th floor. That is the floor my son died on. I hate the 5th floor. I wondered when I was losing him why they would stick me on the 5th floor where the Continuous Care (elderly care) is and the Outpatient Mental Health Clinic is. Maybe they thought I'd snap.

My therapist's name is Dolores. Whenever I hear the name Dolores I think of "She's Come Undone." I liked Dolores as soon as I saw her. She's got this peaceful mother Earth kind of look and vibe. I started crying as soon as she shut the door to her office. And I didn't stop until I got home. I felt safe in her office. Like I could be myself. There are not many places that I feel that. At home, at my parent's home, at my daughter's karate studio (that probably sounds weird but I love that place and the people who run it) and now Dolores's office. I am all cried out but it felt good. It felt good to be sad instead of angry. I am angry a lot but not today. Dolores lost a baby too. It's nice to have a professional who can not only tell me something she read in a book but who has lived it. I don't think I could take advice from someone who hasn't been here.

I have to start making decisions and focusing on what will help me heal. Decision number one: I am taking some time off of work. For now two weeks. We'll decide again after that. It's going to be a pain cause I will have to fill out some paperwork I'm sure. I know they're not going to be happy about it. But I have to get rid of one of my stressers for now and focus on me. I have to focus on breathing. I don't breath very well these days. I feel like I have asthma but I don't actually have asthma. So for the next two weeks the only work I'm doing is breathing.

Flight or Fight

I've always had a very strong flight or fight reflex. I've always gotten the "gut feeling" when somethings not right. It's kept me safe, kept me close to people I can trust. Kept me smart. Lately though, I am all about the flight. I have that "gut feeling" 24/7. Even when I know logically I don't have to have my guard up.

Anxiety is not new to me. I had post partum depression after my daughter was born, was in therapy for a short period and medicated. I had learnt to control it though on my own. When I felt an anxious moment coming on I could reign it in...let reason take over, say a little prayer. Since the death of my son I have lost that ability. I sit at work at my desk, that's where it's the worst, and I can barely breath. I feel like a 300 pound man is sitting on my chest. The pain, physical pain, is so bad I have to get up and walk around and try to take deep breaths. But when you're having fairly intense chest pains you can't take a deep breath so you feel like you're suffocating. I have to do this about 3 times a day without letting anyone around me know what's happening. Cause I'm at work right and it's inappropriate to grieve my dead son at the office. I walk to the bathroom lock myself in the stall and just repeat, keep it together five more hours five more hours...then later in the day...three more hours...then...one more hour. Then I come home, take care of everything I need to take care of. If my husband isn't home then I put my daughter to bed and I fall apart. If he's home I "keep it together."

And then there's the nightmares. Mostly I have nightmares about old horror movies I've watched. Freddy Krueger is after me or Jason or some one just as deadly. They're after me and I"m running away. I have a recurrent dream that I'm trying to escape the Holocaust. Weird cause I'm not Jewish and it is like the actual Holocaust...like a scene from Schindler's List.

Then I wake up and start the next day.

The moments I don't feel anxious are amazing. I feel almost like my old self again. I'm laughing, playing with my family, having a great time. And then I start to get anxious about when I'm going to start feeling anxious again. Damn!!

Maybe I do have a little ppd again. I did technically give birth. Which brings me to a story of how insanely insensitive some people in the medical field are. When I called the hospital to make an appt with the out patient therapist the woman who was doing my intake on the phone asked if I would prefer to go to a ppd support group since I had with my daughter. So, she was asking me if I would like to go to a group with a bunch of women who had living babies and were suffering ppd. Would I like to go there with my dead son and sit around and look at all these living babies? She is very lucky I was at work during this conversation.

I spoke with a Pastor recently about all of this. I figure when something tragic happens we have two options, turn to God or turn to man. There's a quote I have on my Facebook right now from Max Lucado and he says "When all of earth turns against you, all of Heaven turns towards you." That's a really nice thought. I like to think that at this, the hardest time of my life, there are angels (my son among them) looking down on me, praying for me. The Pastor I spoke to suggested I memorize Phillippians 4: 6-8. It will hopefully help to relieve some of the anxiety and help my brain convince my body that there's no reason to fight or take flight. That I'm safe right where I am.