Almost Two Years

Mira’s 2^nd Birthday is just two short days away.  It is so surreal to be here.  I have used the word surreal before in relation to this infant loss journey and I just don’t think there is a better word for it. 

I can still feel on my fingertips how amazingly soft Mira’s cheeks were.  I mean, I didn’t know skin could BE that soft.  I can still feel her weight in my arms, and it feels so real if I let myself really think about it.  I can feel that pain and tightness in my chest that I felt when the doctor said she was gone and I broke down, wailing and proclaiming that I needed more time with her, if allow myself to go there.  It feels like it all just happened.  

But also, it feels like another lifetime.  It feels like an alternate reality that I got to feel a life grow inside me and then hold my own child in my arms.  It feels like the happiness of finding out I was pregnant could have been an overly realistic dream.  It feels like so very long ago that I was wheeled out of a maternity ward clutching only a stuffed animal, feeling so numb I’m not sure I knew what was happening. 

So, it is surreal for it two be close to two years ago.

Writing Out the Beginning

I started keeping this blog during the 17^th week of my pregnancy with Mira when things got too overwhelming to update family and friends after visits.  Since then, I have fallen in love with writing out my thoughts and feelings as a healthy way to cope and way to spread awareness about carrying to term, infant loss, and grief.  I also find it helpful to share my posts with friends and family that have remained supportive, so I can share how I am doing with a little more comfort than face to face sometimes brings.

Mira’s 2^nd birthday is quickly approaching, and I found myself thinking a lot about the beginning of my pregnancy, the part before I started writing and I was disappointed I did not have a record of that time like I do the rest.  I also know the pain, confusion, and trauma that occurs through a pregnancy with a fatal diagnosis is very isolating.  For these two reasons I decided to write out a summary of what Mira’s life was before I started this blog, from finding out I was pregnant through 17 weeks when I started this blog. I had actually intended it to be a short synopsis, but as I started writing I found that impossible so, if only for me to have it documented (but hopeful for others to read too), here is the beginning of Mira’s story:

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.