Sunday, October 3, 2010

Hard

I promise to be honest. I promise to say what I need to say to heal. As long as everyone understands that this is part of the process for me. I am okay. I will be okay. We will come out of this on the other end more responsible, more appreciative, more loving, more empathetic, and more whole.

I have been soo sad since being home. Actually the day I left Southern California was an incredibly rough day for me. I knew what I'd be coming home to: the house I thought I'd be bringing Cole home to (I'm sure the stress of taking a 15 month old on a flight again wasn't exactly taking away from the situation, too). Thankfully, Mr. Howard and I had been procrastinators and hadn't started Connor's big boy room (so that Cole could be welcomed into the nursery). That would have been hard. Thankfully I had friends who knew how hard it would be for me, and they called and told me they loved me. I called my sister and vented and cried. I went to work on Friday and laughed and vented with my friends. Thank God for them.

Tomorrow is the day we call the funeral home to see if we can pick up Cole. I can't even imagine. I know we'll do it. Just like we get out of bed. Just like we smile and laugh with our friends. This milestone, too, will pass. But what are we losing in the process? Am I ever going to be the same? I already find myself unable to respond to texts and phone calls. What do I say? Everyone asks me how I am, which I wholeheartedly understand (it's a natural question), but it's a question without an answer. I don't know how I am. I can have a smile one second and the next be in hysterics. Only Mr. Howard has been privy to the hysterics. (And maybe Diana & Susan when I first told them what was happening.) I have to be robotic when I talk about Cole. I tell myself over and over and over to be strong. And I know this isn't healthy. But what will happen when I cry? Will I stop? I can't take care of my other child if I truly let myself feel the enormity of the situation.

 I find myself getting frustrated with things that don't normally upset me. I find myself lashing out at my old self that got stressed about my job. Are you kidding me? That was my biggest problem? Report cards? A job? How truly ridiculous. I understand that that was the place I was in and maybe some day I will be able to be stressed about a job or picking out a car or running errands. I welcome the day. Please, Lord, let me feel stressed some day about those things! Today it feels like that will never happen.

Now instead of report cards and job stress, I'm thinking about Cole dressed up in his beautiful little onesie. I'm stressed about dialing the keys on the phone to call the funeral home. I'm stressed about where we will put Cole when we bring him home. I'm constantly thinking about how I need to document everything and take photos of Connor because life is too short and one of us might leave. I'm stressed about whether or not we did the right things...said the right things. I'm focused on what having another baby will be like. Will I be able to tell my friends? Will I be able to announce it at work? What will people say? What will I say? Will I be able to attach myself in the same blindless way that I did to both Connor and Cole in my belly? Will I even be able to get pregnant? Will we ever be able to have children or is this condition hereditary? Will people judge us if it is a genetic condition and we decide to have children again?

And then I feel guilty for thinking about other children. I have two wonderful children. I don't want a child to replace Cole. I want Cole. I want Cole. I want Cole! I don't understand.

You know what's funny? I have never said, "why me?" or "why us?" I know why. We were smug. We were ungrateful. We were worried about things that we shouldn't have cared about. Our values were wrong. I don't want to know why we were chosen. I want to know how I'm supposed to function. How am I supposed to go back to work? What am I supposed to say when people ask? What happens if I burst into tears in the lunch room? Will I even be able to go into the lunch room? In the morning, I normally put my lunch away in the staff room...Will I be able to go in there? Is the ultrasound photo still hanging on my white board with the name Itty Bitty Howard lovingly written on it for all my students to see? Are all my prenatal appointments still in my lesson plan book? What will February be like? How about Cole's due date? Will I be able to get out of bed?

Will Mr. Howard be the same? The other day he told me he was depressed. I know this side of him. I know this side of myself. How do you snap out of it? I wanted him to put it into words. What was making him sad? Everything. Everything is making him sad. I wanted to hear the words I haven't heard since coming home from the hospital. I want to hear him tell me he misses Cole. That he wants Cole back. But I also know that this is what I need, not what he needs. In the hospital and since coming home, the focus has been on me: my delivery, my pain, my recovery, my milk coming in, my retained placenta. Now it's his turn to be sad. But that makes me sad. I want to make everything better. I want to reverse time and have Cole here with us in our arms. I want Cole. I'm thinking more and more that it might be necessary for us to join a support group.

Newest stage of grief: PISSED OFF!! I know this isn't PC. But I also know that my relationship with my creator is strong enough for him to hear that. He certainly has heard worse from me!

2 comments:

Lindsey said... Best Blogger Tips[Reply to comment]Best Blogger Templates

My friend,

Praying for you today as you make the call to the funeral. A call a mother should NEVER have to make. You're in my thoughts and prayers as this journey has just begun. I loved your real feelings. Keep them coming. Don't be afraid to shed the tears cause if you don't suddenly a dam will burst and you won't be able to stop. Tears are GOOD. They mean you hurt and lost someone SO SO SO important to you. You will not be the same. You lost your beautiful son. Don't feel guilty thinking about other children...my future children are getting me through the loss of their big sisters. There will be good and bad days. And you might have a string of good days and then out of the blue a really bad one hits...no explanation. Bad days suck. But you will be stonger coming out of this. For our faithful Father is with us every step of the way. He will see you to the other side. He loves you and hurts with you.

In Him,
Lindsey

Kirsten said... Best Blogger Tips[Reply to comment]Best Blogger Templates

Psalm 56:8
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.

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