I Wrote the Letter I have been DYING to write

We recently had a doctors appointment, which always makes me nervous and happy. I'm always scared that there will be bad news. I'm working on staying positive, but it can be hard. It honestly, is hard to be positive, period. While answering the typical questions, "how are you feeling?" (Which is always a two part answer, physically and mentally.) I said something that even struck me. I was discussing my fears, the doctor observed, that whole most women lose anxiety as they progress through their pregnancy, I'm likely to be the opposite. April seems like so far away. It's nice to know that we have a date already. We know that we won't go farther than April 11 for induction, but April is still a long ways away. However, every school year, April vacation rolls around and I always say, "where has the year gone?" Every year, time goes by faster and faster.  While talking, some words stumbled out of my mouth that made me think, "listen to yourself !"  It dawned on me, whether I choose to be positive or I choose to worry, the time is going to pass anyway. I have the choice. So as hard as it is, I'm going to try and choose positivity. I'm going to try and quiet the worry. 

     Our nurse in the hospital was our angel. She was amazing and knew exactly what to say. She was my voice, my cheerleader and my tissue! She advocated for me and try to make me as comfortable as possible. She also made my family comfortable and took care of James at the same time. She made sure I was never alone. When we left, we said we couldn't wait to see her at a more joyous time and we hope she will still be working at the hospital when we get pregnant again. She has kept in touch with notes, which has been nice. We have been waiting to respond to her latest correspondence so we could tell her the good news. As much as I wanted to write this letter, I kept wondering how I would word the letter that might follow. The sad one that would say how something is wrong. Morbid, right? 

   After the little pep talk with our doctor and made that statement, I went home and wrote the letter. I told her our good news and how we hope that somehow, the Stars might align and she can be our nurse again. It was scary, but I can't wait for her to recieve the letter. I can't wait for her to read the good news. I know she will be just as excited as we are. I'm not sure if she knows the impact she has had on our lives, but I hope she has some idea. 

Now I have to find some stamps! 

The Fear of Hope

This past week has been difficult. My anxiety has been ramping up again, which has triggered my depression. Sometimes it sneaks up on me without even realizing that it's even there. I had been feeling off and not like myself, but I just shrugged it off as anxiety. It's was when, for the fourth day in a row, I didn't want to go to school. I love my job and I have had moments where I just wanted to keep driving past and not go in. However, never so many days in a row, did I just not want to face my students. It was the moment I wanted to hide under my desk and cry, that I realized something had changed.
   Luckily, I had an appointment with my therapist that night. My session proved to be enlightening. Sometimes, just saying it out loud, acknowledging the depression, helps to take some of the weight off. It came to light that my fear is getting in the way of hope and bonding with this new pregnancy. It's not uncommon and completely understandable, but it's not how I want this pregnancy to go. I would give anything to reclaim my naïveté. To feel like, we are out of the danger zone, this baby is a guarantee. It's not. Having that knowledge sucks. It's sucking the joy right out of this pregnancy. How do I combat this? How do I attempt to reclaim some of the joy? How do I fight the fear of hope?
    I shared a few things I didn't do during my pregnancy with Fi. Things that, in the long run, I was happy for. Other loss moms have suggested to do something different this pregnancy. Something that others do. Take the weekly belly pictures, write letters to the new baby, purchase items for the baby. When I spoke about this to my therapist, I voiced that inner demon in the back of my head. What if this ends tragically and I have a pile of pictures I never want to look at, letters I want to burn and more stuff to add to the room we hardly open? Before she could say anything, I answered my own question. It's going to be devistating if this should end badly, whether we have the "stuff" or not. So I promise to "fake it till I make it" and try one technique to try and bond.
     Since I think having tangible items will give me something to look at and hold to remind me that I am pregnant ( seriously, sometimes I forget and a lot of times I don't even really FEEL pregnant). So each week we progress, James and I are making it a point to purchase one item for the baby and not put it "in the room." We need to keep it visible. Today we went to target to find something to buy. It was the first time I had been in the store and not avoided the baby section, let alone enter it willingly. It was HARD . I couldn't look at it for long and just wanted to grab something off the shelf and leave. James pushed that it should be something we like and we will use. I asked to walk away. We did a little Christmas shopping. The. We found ourselves in the sports section. James found a 3 pack of Patriots onesies that would be the perfect size for this baby and it's first football season. I took it and we bought it. At this point, I'm totally faking it and I hope that by going through the motions, eventually something will click.  Eventually, I will stop saying "with any luck" "hopefully" and knocking on wood.  Eventually, I will stop cringing when others take about baby E. It's difficult for me to even put a name to this little thing. When others say it, the little demon voice of fear speaks up and sings a song of doubt that only I can hear.
     Some have asked how they can help. Honestly, I don't know. The best is to listen, give me hugs and reassure me that I'm not insane or insensitive. Encouragement when I act like its normal and ignore the fear, understanding when I let some of the fear out.
     We were told that we will be delivering at 37 weeks. So as of today, only 24 more weeks to go. It seems like an eternity, but after years of teaching, I've learned that April vacation comes fast and furious.
Here's to 24 more gifts for baby E.
   

I'm a fighter...... A Foo Fighter

In May of 2006, a group of Australian miners got trapped underground after a shaft collapsed. Rescuers were able to get a little hole drilled down to the survivors for provisions such as food and water. One of the survivors asked for an iPod with Foo Fighters songs on it. They were trapped in the mine for two weeks. They credited listening to the Foo Fighters helped them in their darkest time.
     In the weeks after Fi's death, I couldn't listen to music. I had spent a good part of my pregnancy listening to various songs in an effort to educate her in the wonders of music. So, I didn't turn on my radio. I didn't want to listen to anything, but man, the car can get really quiet and your thoughts can get loud. My thoughts were worse than the music. So, for some reason, I was reminded of this story about the miners. I thought, if they could stare down the idea of possible death with the help of this band, I could wade through my grief with their music.
      Every song became my anthem! Even songs that were about things not related to my situation, somehow had meaning to me. I would sing the lyrics of "The Best of You" at the top of my lungs in the shower. I was serenading the demon in my head that was getting the best of me. I would take a moment to cry or say a prayer of gratitude during "Times like These." Or heck, just blast "congregation" in the car to drown out my thoughts. It was therapeutic. There wasn't any emotion already attached to these songs. I could listen without fear of suddenly remembering being pregnant and happy. I could have whatever emotion I wanted! Somehow this music gave me a bit of control.
     On the day of my first appointment, "Everlong" came on the radio. I took it as a small sign. I said a thank you and began to relax as I approached the office. At my next appointment, "Walk" was playing on the Muzak in the office. I thought to myself, "hmmm., what a nice coincidence." Then when I heard yet ANOTHER song on my way to an unexpected appointment I said , "ok, I get the point. You're here!"
         At our last appointment, I hadn't heard anything on the radio and although it didn't worry me, the thought was in my head. Then the most amazing, weird, awesome (fill in the blank) thing happened. A nurse came out to get a patient and called out the name Elizabeth. Two women stand up and the nurse was about to clarify when one of the said "You mean, Elizabeth Taylor?" And the nurse nodded. It was that the woman's name happened to be the same as my adorable kitty, but the woman, I SHIT YOU NOT, had a Foo Fighters t-shirt on. For real. Let that sink in.
       Do I think that the dead are trying to communicate with me? I don't know, but what I do know is that the universe is sending me messages. I am receiving the, loud and clear! I love being open to seeing the signs that someone is listening. I can't wait to have more.
The Foo Fighters helped me to fight through my grief and continue to enjoy music without fear. Now their music brings a different level of comfort.

Someone is Listening

Right after Fi died, I began writing her letters. Talking to her out loud or even in my head seemed too painful, but writing was okay. I would tell her things that I wish I could have said to her face. I asked her questions. I always ended with "I miss you. Please pick out a brother or sister to send down."
I didn't know if she would hear my request but I figured it wouldn't hurt.
After a month or so, I got my voice back and I would sometimes talk to her while I was alone in the house. When I would get really sad or cry, I would imagine her placing her hand on my heart and all the tension would go away. I wasn't always sure if she could hear me, but I kept talking. Someone was bound to listen.
August 19 was the "day of hope." A day to recognize babies that were gone too soon. It was also the 3 month mark of Fi's Angelversary. The night before, I had asked Fi for a message. Boy did I get one! I woke up early and actually posted this on Facebook
    "I find it rather fitting that I woke up at 3 am starving and having to pee. I ate a granola bar and chugged some water and found myself unexplainably awake. It's how I spent most of my 9 months of pregnancy.
Today marks 3 months since we had to say hello and goodbye to our sweet little girl. I honestly never thought I could make it this far. We have taken it one breath at a time with support and hugs from so many.
So, here I am, awake, missing the quiet hours we would spend in the middle of the night, but what a fantastic reminder of her."

After I wrote that, I sat awake, missing being pregnant and asked Fi again to send a brother or sister down. As if on cue, a car went by and it made a reflection of light on the wall that looked like two lines on a pregnancy test. It made me pause and I thought. What the heck, I'll test in the morning.
So, exactly 3 months to the day of her passing, I was holding a positive pregnancy test, crying, saying thank you and pleading at the same time.
Since then, I have had little signs of reassurance as I face some pretty big fears.  I am thankful to have a daughter who listens so well!
I couldn't have asked for better timing. We will be able to face the holidays with hope and joy. And if all goes well, we will be holding our rainbow as we observe Fi's one year Angelversary.
I am so thankful that someone is listening.

My biggest fear

I have a very real and very big fear. I am afraid of Fi being forgotten. I'm afraid that as the years go on, and as life moves on, people will forget that she existed. Because she did. Very briefly, but she existed.
  It's been in my mind, how best to remember her. How can I make a positive change out of something terrible? I'm still working on that, but I have some ideas. But I deeply fear that people will forget that, we should be celebrating milestones, birthdays, first days of school etc.
  As life has gone on, I have had to move forward. I have gone back to work and that's been good. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to teach with the same openness and joy that I had before. Honestly, I think my passion has deepened because I feel a stronger drive to do what is best for these beautiful children. I wake up every morning, out on my emotional armor and face my day. I know I'm going to think about Fi. I know that something will remind me of her daily, even if I am moving at the speed of a 3 year old, something will make me think of her. Last week, I had two children, not from my class, mention "I know you have a baby." Or "is there still a baby in there." I calmly pretended that I didn't hear them and moved on to help other students. I have put protective armor on to help deflect these comments and worries, so I can do my job. I'm fairly certain, people think I'm doing great. That I'm "moving on" and "over it."
Surprise: I'm not. I go home. I take off my badge. Like batman taking off his suit. I become Carole, again, and allow myself to be me. If I need to cry, I cry. If I want to break things, I do it. I save it for my safe place. I will never be over it.
Yes, life has moved forward. We can't stop time. Yes, I have accepted that I need to participate in the daily ins and outs. But no, I'm not great. I haven't moved on. I have perfected the alter ego. Mrs. Ryan, courageous bereaved mom, teaching children and loving it. When you ask me how I'm doing and I relply, "good" or "great." Please hear the silent clarifier, "but I'm still not "me."
So as I have faced the idea that life has gone on, my fear that Fi will be forgotten has grown. As my visible grief disappears, I worry her memory will. I ask you, reading this, to remember her. it doesn't have to be daily, but if you see a butterfly, say a prayer, or look at the stars, say a little hello.  I received a message last night from a friend that she looked up at the stars while walking her dog and said hi to Fi. So simple, but it meant so much to me.
Thank you.
I know this entry was pretty scattered.