One of the things I lamented after we lost Fi was that I would never be able to tell her the greatest love story ever. The story of James and me. Truth be told, I was terrified to have daughter. There are so many scary things out there for girls. There are emotional issues, middle school friendships (ugh!) self-esteem, unrealistic body expectations from the media. It all scared me. How could I raise a strong young woman when I was still discovering my own confidence. One thing that never scared me, she would know how a man should treat a woman. She would have a great example of love and what she would be worthy of.
James and I met through my step sister. the first night we meant, we talked about books. Lots and lots of books. He listed a series he thought I would like on a napkin, wrote his phone number below and said to call if I ever wanted to borrow a book. (Nerd alert!) I was seeing someone at the time, so I never called. We saw each other a couple of times, but six months later I found myself single. After a few texts and some coy remarks, James FINALLY asked me to dinner. My thought was, "what the heck! Worst case, a free meal."
Look, we had both kissed a lot of frogs. We had both been through some difficult relationships, we went in to this knowing that there was a slim chance we would hit it off. I had a list. Lots of girls my age had them. You know, that list of criteria guys should meet before you date them, such as; college degree, taller than me, blue eyes, non-smoker, a pulse. Just to name a few. Anyways, James met some criteria on my list, but honestly, he didn't meet most of list. But hey, my list was producing terrible relationships.... Ones that were on the verge of emotional abuse. What did I discover? I was missing a few things on my list. I never once thought of the characteristics that made a gentleman. What I found out was, James is just that. A chivalrous gentleman.
Our first date was typical but extraordinary at the same time. We had dinner. When we finished, James asked to walk we home. I lived about two blocks from the restaurant, but he wanted to make sure I made it safe. I invited him up for a drink and movie. He accepted and was a total gentleman. When he left, he didn't even kiss me goodnight! Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't want to rush things.
The beginnings of our relationship was sprinkled with roses, love notes and little gifts. Nothing fancy, just special. I had never felt so special.
Our love story is a sequence of simple, yet extraordinary acts of love. Proposal in my pjs! Wedding at a brewery, holding my hand and loving me through the worst days of my life.
As we were coming home from a family weekend last night I realized that Fi never got to hear our love story, but she's part of it. She is one of the fixed points in our story. In some relationships, the death of the child is a fork in their relationship. One person going one way the other taking a different road. Fi is a reinforcer in our love line. She helped us to come closer, show compassion and love deeper.
Some things happened this weekend that normally would have resulted in a petty argument. Instead of placing blame or arguing or saying "I told you so." We were able to look at one another with compassion, understanding and some good team problem solving!
Obviously Fi knows our love story, but I can't thank her enough for showing us just how deep our love is and how much deeper it can go. When life is overwhelming and things seem insurmountable. Breath.
Love is all you need
PS- friends and family please know that your love is extrodinary too! Thank you for holding us up in prayer and thoughts.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Dear Ultrasound Tech
Dear Ultrasound Tech,
First, let me apologize that I don't know your name. As someone who has played a pivotal role in my life history, I feel like we should be on a first name basis. So, I'm sorry. There are so many things I want to say to you.
I want to apologize for being angry at you for awhile. I shouldn't have "shot the messenger." It has occurred to me that you have a difficult job. I thought you were always the deliverer of good news. You spend you days saying, "it's a boy!" Or girl. You get to say "congratulations! There's your bundle of joy!" I never thought of the flip side. I never thought about the fact that you are sometimes the first one to notice terrible news. You are the first one to see a growth abnormality or the fact that the little heart has stopped beating. You have this knowledge, but you don't have any authority to relay any of it. You are trained to not let anything show on your face and calmly say you need to get a doctor.
Thank you for trying to keep your cool and show no emotion as you were searching and trying to get information. I'm sorry I caught on and outed you. I knew something was wrong. I saw the heartbeat bar. I know too much. You calmly said you were sorry and went to get a doctor immediately. I'm sorry I screamed and yelled, but thank you for your calm analysis relayed to our doctor.
It struck me that on these horrible days, you too, might morn. I wonder if you go home and cry for those patients you see crumble on your table? Do you say prayers for them? Do you debrief with staff after to calm down? I can't imagine it's "everyday stress." It would be a heartless person not to feel something when you end up being the messenger of terrible news.
I know that I will see you again someday. I will go in to that room again one day. When I do, I don't know if you will remember me. I don't know if I made the same impression on you that you have on me. However, I hope that I can express to you my thanks and admiration for your job. I hope that you will be able to give us good news and we will fade in to the blur of happy parents rather than be imprinted on your mind as the Grieved. Hope to see you soon.
Warm regards,
Carole (aka the woman who lost her mind in your office)
First, let me apologize that I don't know your name. As someone who has played a pivotal role in my life history, I feel like we should be on a first name basis. So, I'm sorry. There are so many things I want to say to you.
I want to apologize for being angry at you for awhile. I shouldn't have "shot the messenger." It has occurred to me that you have a difficult job. I thought you were always the deliverer of good news. You spend you days saying, "it's a boy!" Or girl. You get to say "congratulations! There's your bundle of joy!" I never thought of the flip side. I never thought about the fact that you are sometimes the first one to notice terrible news. You are the first one to see a growth abnormality or the fact that the little heart has stopped beating. You have this knowledge, but you don't have any authority to relay any of it. You are trained to not let anything show on your face and calmly say you need to get a doctor.
Thank you for trying to keep your cool and show no emotion as you were searching and trying to get information. I'm sorry I caught on and outed you. I knew something was wrong. I saw the heartbeat bar. I know too much. You calmly said you were sorry and went to get a doctor immediately. I'm sorry I screamed and yelled, but thank you for your calm analysis relayed to our doctor.
It struck me that on these horrible days, you too, might morn. I wonder if you go home and cry for those patients you see crumble on your table? Do you say prayers for them? Do you debrief with staff after to calm down? I can't imagine it's "everyday stress." It would be a heartless person not to feel something when you end up being the messenger of terrible news.
I know that I will see you again someday. I will go in to that room again one day. When I do, I don't know if you will remember me. I don't know if I made the same impression on you that you have on me. However, I hope that I can express to you my thanks and admiration for your job. I hope that you will be able to give us good news and we will fade in to the blur of happy parents rather than be imprinted on your mind as the Grieved. Hope to see you soon.
Warm regards,
Carole (aka the woman who lost her mind in your office)
Saturday, September 5, 2015
I swear I was stung by that poisonous caterpillar that's all over Facebook
I've always been a bit of hypochondriac. I'm lucky enough to have a nurse for a sister who answers all my questions. I had (have) a terrible habit of looking up symptoms on WebMD and end up with a daignosis of cancer. I know, it's bad.
About five years ago, I was diagnosed with mild anxiety and depression. I was waking up in the middle of the night and having trouble panic attacks. I was not able to use any coping mechanisms that my therapist suggested and finally she recommended I start a medication. I was on medication for about 6-8 months before I was finally at point where I could use my coping skills and wean off of the medication.
As you can assume, my anxiety has been creepy up since I lost Fi. However, it is a very different monster this time around. It now shows itself in irrational fears regarding my health or James' health. Here are three wonderful examples.
1) while camping with my family in July, we were hanging out at a park before going to dinner. The kids were playing and the adults were sitting under the tree chatting. I sat on the ground and put my hands behind me so I could recline a bit. When I put my hands on the ground, I felt a prick on my hand and retracted it immediately. I looked down to see what I had put my hand on. There was a dead caterpillar next to me and I immediately remembered a post I had seen on Facebook. There are new poisonous caterpillar that has prickly fur that can paralyze and/or kill you. I had put my hand on said caterpillar. (Well, not really, but at the time I was convinced.) my sisters asked me what was wrong no I informed them of the caterpillar and my imminent doom. After about, 3 terrifying minutes, I realiEd I was not going to die, my hand was not swelling and the pinch I felt was actually the crusty already dead caterpillar that had dried in the sun. But for 3 minutes..... I was a goner.
2) James snores. Like a freaking train. Certain situations make his snoring worse. One night, he was fast asleep and I was awake. James was not snoring. Very odd, but it happens occasionally. I didn't think, "How lucky! I will be able to sleep easier tonight." No, no, no... What did I think? Was he breathing? Did he die? Is he suffering from some other internal ailment that I can't fix? I had to put my hand in front of his mouth and nose to make sure he was actually breathing. For about 2 minutes.... He was dead. (Not really, but in my head.... I was a widow.)
3) while on vacation in Mexico, James and I were out to dinner with another couple. We were eating some delicious food that had ingredients I wasn't sure about. I wasn't too concerned. I don't have any food allergies (that cause anaphylaxis). While eating, I got a little tickle in my throat. It made me cough, but you can just guess what my mind did. I had a tickle, and I tried swallowing , which I could, but was it labored? Was my tongue swelling? Does the resort have an epi pen on hand? Do they even have medical staff? Great, I'm going to end up in a Mexican hospital... Make that a filthy Mexican hospital where I will die, if not from asphyxiation, infection. I went from tickle to death in 5 seconds. I was trying to act all cool, but for 5 minutes I was silently freaking out and predicting my own death.
It was after this figured I should see someone. I have found an amazing therapist, who is trying to help me negotiate these crazy thoughts. I am suffering from PTSD. I thought it was a bit of an over diagnosis, but after looking at its definition... Yup. I have night terrors, panic attacks and triggers. There are SO MANY triggers. Shit I didn't even think would bug me, bug me. I will save my triggers for another post.
After a month of therapy, I have some coping skills, but it's hard to use them. I'm still working through all this grief. Luckily. I haven't contracted a new disease in almost two weeks :o)
About five years ago, I was diagnosed with mild anxiety and depression. I was waking up in the middle of the night and having trouble panic attacks. I was not able to use any coping mechanisms that my therapist suggested and finally she recommended I start a medication. I was on medication for about 6-8 months before I was finally at point where I could use my coping skills and wean off of the medication.
As you can assume, my anxiety has been creepy up since I lost Fi. However, it is a very different monster this time around. It now shows itself in irrational fears regarding my health or James' health. Here are three wonderful examples.
1) while camping with my family in July, we were hanging out at a park before going to dinner. The kids were playing and the adults were sitting under the tree chatting. I sat on the ground and put my hands behind me so I could recline a bit. When I put my hands on the ground, I felt a prick on my hand and retracted it immediately. I looked down to see what I had put my hand on. There was a dead caterpillar next to me and I immediately remembered a post I had seen on Facebook. There are new poisonous caterpillar that has prickly fur that can paralyze and/or kill you. I had put my hand on said caterpillar. (Well, not really, but at the time I was convinced.) my sisters asked me what was wrong no I informed them of the caterpillar and my imminent doom. After about, 3 terrifying minutes, I realiEd I was not going to die, my hand was not swelling and the pinch I felt was actually the crusty already dead caterpillar that had dried in the sun. But for 3 minutes..... I was a goner.
2) James snores. Like a freaking train. Certain situations make his snoring worse. One night, he was fast asleep and I was awake. James was not snoring. Very odd, but it happens occasionally. I didn't think, "How lucky! I will be able to sleep easier tonight." No, no, no... What did I think? Was he breathing? Did he die? Is he suffering from some other internal ailment that I can't fix? I had to put my hand in front of his mouth and nose to make sure he was actually breathing. For about 2 minutes.... He was dead. (Not really, but in my head.... I was a widow.)
3) while on vacation in Mexico, James and I were out to dinner with another couple. We were eating some delicious food that had ingredients I wasn't sure about. I wasn't too concerned. I don't have any food allergies (that cause anaphylaxis). While eating, I got a little tickle in my throat. It made me cough, but you can just guess what my mind did. I had a tickle, and I tried swallowing , which I could, but was it labored? Was my tongue swelling? Does the resort have an epi pen on hand? Do they even have medical staff? Great, I'm going to end up in a Mexican hospital... Make that a filthy Mexican hospital where I will die, if not from asphyxiation, infection. I went from tickle to death in 5 seconds. I was trying to act all cool, but for 5 minutes I was silently freaking out and predicting my own death.
It was after this figured I should see someone. I have found an amazing therapist, who is trying to help me negotiate these crazy thoughts. I am suffering from PTSD. I thought it was a bit of an over diagnosis, but after looking at its definition... Yup. I have night terrors, panic attacks and triggers. There are SO MANY triggers. Shit I didn't even think would bug me, bug me. I will save my triggers for another post.
After a month of therapy, I have some coping skills, but it's hard to use them. I'm still working through all this grief. Luckily. I haven't contracted a new disease in almost two weeks :o)
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