All This Fear

10 Things Bereaved Mothers Fear You’ll Think by Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I read this article a week or so ago when a friend shared it and have not stopped thinking about it since.  Then this week, it showed up in my email as well from NILMDTS’ mailing list and I read it again.  And the words still rang true, so I just had to write about it myself.  I encourage you to take the time to really read the linked article as the writer share things so eloquently. 

The reason I haven’t been able to get this list out of my mind, is every single item listed is a fear of mine as well.  Usually when you come across list articles, some apply, and some do not.  This article hit so close to home, it was like the author read my mind and put words to fears I hadn’t known how to express.  I would like to list them here and talk about how they affect personally.  I know getting the words out will help me, and I hope they will help those in my life understand me a little too.

I Need a Hand to Help Build Up Some Kind of Hope Inside of Me

I have been carrying my pain fairly well for the past few months.  That does not really mean it hurts any less that my daughter died, but it does mean I that I know I can survive it and have been able to continue living life while carrying her.  It means that there are really hard days, especially around certain dates, but they don’t have to be hard months, they can just be hard days.  It means I can cry and miss her and be angry she is gone, but also be grateful to be Mira’s mom and find joy in my life. It means I can feel full of hurt and pain some days, but know it won’t kill me, and better days will come. I had been doing fairly well.

Then August 2 happened.  About a week and a half ago, I had foot surgery.   I have been being treated for pain in my foot being caused by an extra bone that shouldn’t be there since the beginning of February, and with no other treatment options, I agreed to surgery.  The surgery itself went well, no complications and I am healing as expected.  The pain was terrible in the beginning but started improving after only a few days.  My mental health on the other has taken a hard hit.  This is not something that people often talk about, but problems with depression or anxiety after surgery, especially when general anesthesia and opioids are used are, not uncommon.  Add in a diagnosis of PTSD and history of anxiety, and I was certainly high risk for postoperative depression. 

I have been wanting to take the time to write about this, because I know writing helps me.  But also, because I hope to spread some more awareness with this post.  I am always looking to spread awareness of infant loss and the grieving process with my posts, but with this one, I also ask you to think about how triggering situations affect anyone with PTSD, no matter what trauma lead to the diagnosis.  And I ask you to be aware of the level of anxiety and depression that can occur after receiving anesthesia and/or certain pain medications.  These are things we just don’t speak about enough. 

I Matter Too

The 2-year anniversary of Mira’s initial diagnosis, where we first got a clue something was wrong, is coming up this week (July 19^th). With all the emotions that come with anniversary dates, I have realized over the past few weeks that I have forgotten something rather important over these past 2 years.  I have spent so much time and all my energy trying to make sure everyone remembered that my daughter mattered, that I forgot that I mattered too. 

I think every new Mom goes through this to some extent.  The new baby is the most important thing in the world, and Mom gets shoved to the side a bit (or a lot depending on your circumstances).  New moms can easily lose themselves in this new role and forget that the other pieces of them have value too, not just their motherhood.  It is similar for loss Moms in some ways, but so incredibly different in other ways.   We are mothers too, so we need to learn to find our way in this new role, but there is no baby to show off and no traditional things to do to care for that baby.  We also must find our “new normal” amongst all this, whether we want to or not.  Through this process, we also have the challenge of the world around us telling us (often by accident) that our baby does not matter.  What is a loss Mom to do?  The same thing any mother would do if she was told her child did not matter, fight for her child’s value to be recognized.  This takes an emotional toll, so it is easy to forget about yourself in midst of it all.

Over the past two years, as I have lovingly found ways to mother my daughter despite her being in Heaven and I on Earth, I forgot that I matter.  Her short life matters and impacted many, and I will never, ever, stop finding ways to share that.  I will never stop making sure she matters and mothering her the only way I know how. But through all that, I can matter too. 

Eighteen Months

Two years ago, I was blissfully pregnant.  I was nauseous, exhausted, and having trouble walking due to a pinched nerve, but still joyful and so, so happy to be expecting a baby come winter.  At 9 weeks along, we had gotten passed the misdiagnosis of a blighted ovum scare that happened from 6-8 weeks.  Everything was perfect.  I had a great job, a wonderful husband, great extended family, owned a home, and I was pregnant.  Everything was just perfect.  I was moving at just the pace I wanted.  Then 3 weeks later I received Mira’s initial diagnosis, and it was like I got hit by a train and my whole life derailed over the next 6 months. 

Over the next six weeks while we underwent tests and saw specialists and the news got worse and worse with each test, my life was in triage mode, just pushing through the chaos.  I kept working and pushing through everything. I couldn’t take time off; I needed the money and insurance.  I needed PTO saved for a maternity leave.  This is how things work in our country, no time for a break during a crisis, because the benefits don’t allow this.  I did everything I used to, while also fighting for this little life inside me. 

After finding out no treatment was available for Mira and moving to a palliative care team, life moved at a strange pace. I wanted time to just stop, but it moved forward just like it did before. I filled every moment I could with special time with Mira.  I talked to her in the car as I drove between sessions at work. I sang to her.  I read to her every night between dinner and my early pregnancy bedtime.  Joe and I took her to so many places and described them to her.  We took pictures and prepared for her birth so we could squeeze everything into the time we would get.   The world spun on around us, but for Joe and I, that time was lived in a bubble of nothing but Mira.  When you only get a few months with your child, you need every second to be about them.  We invited lots of people into our bubble and they got to know her too and share many special moments with her.  We invited some people in who walked away instead, but we just stayed in our bubble of love.  Time moved on while we existed in this bubble, and I was aware of every second going by.  Then she was born and died and our bubble continued in the hospital, but burst with an indescribable amount of pain as she was wheeled out of our room by a nurse, never to be seen by us again. 

May We All Heal: Part Eight

May 29th: Day By Day

Everyone says you have to take it day by day right after the loss, just think of one day at a time.  But that is a lie.  You have to literally take it a moment at a time in the very beginning.  Then slowly you get up to an hour and then eventually day at a time.  I still take it a day at a time mostly.  Asking me to plan far ahead is terrifying.  I had plans, wonderful, beautiful plans.  They fell apart.  When Mira died, so did all the plans I had for life with her.  All the plans I had for my life.  It makes it hard to go about planning anything significant again.  I have certainly made progress in this area!  I have started an adjunct teaching position, and will be teaching my first class this summer.  That took a lot of planning and commitment!  I can plan ahead just fine at work and for anything professional.  It is personal planning that is still a major struggle.  Planning a trip, planning an event, planning a future.  It is still scary.  But I work through it day by day.

May 30th: Power

We have so little power or control over our own lives.  I did not fully understand this before losing Mira.  I knew and completely believed the God had all the power and was in full control, but I did not fully comprehend how little power I had.  I followed all the books' advice and doctors' recommendations for pregnancy from the time Joe and I started trying to have a baby, long before I was even pregnant, just to be safe.  I took the vitamins and ate the right food.  I avoided what I should and added in the right things.  In the end, it didn't matter. I lost my baby anyway.  When Mira was diagnosed, I researched like crazy and tried everything to save her.  I found I had no control over her health at all. I begged God, the one with the power, to save her.  And he did not.  It seems, I did not have any power at all to control my life or save my daughter's.  That was a hard, hard, lesson to learn.  And there is no sugar coating it.  My daughter died.  God did not save her.  I could not protect her. And I had no choice, and no power, in the matter.  In realizing this, all I can do is continue to submit to the One with all the power.  I have to trust that God has the power because He knows so much better than I what must happen.  I will never know while I am still alive, why He did not use His power to save my Mira, but I do have complete faith that He has a plan bigger than I do. 

May 31st: From Now On...

From now on....

I will keep loving you, Mira.

I will keep trying to live my life in a way that is honoring to you, your daddy, and Jesus.

I will not give up, even on the hardest days.