Wednesday, January 14, 2009


Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly...
Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see...

This is one of those songs that even now I can't listen to without crying. It used to make me think of leaving home. In my graduation card, my mom had written the single word "blackbird". But now... How it calls of going on when we are broken... Now, it is just a daily struggle without the hope of feeling like you can go on. The Long and Winding Road is another one that I find hard to listen to, yet Here Comes the Sun, as hard as it is to hear, reminds me of our children, so I make myself listen.

It's been a while since I've posted, and for many reasons. Things havent been so great this week. Monday, I just had a complete breakdown at work. I really want to leave at this point. Dealing with everything is getting to me and the realization that I would have to deal with storytimes, including an infant storytime where it seems like every mom in the group is ready to pop with another baby, was weighing heavily on me. (Ah, the joys of a lack of staff...) Peter and I were on the phone and the realization that I was still working and probably would be for some time hit, and I just broke down into sobs. Had other people been in the building, I'm sure they would have called the county library. It was that bad. Well, after that, it was as though the true depth of my numbness and pain set in. I functioned at work, but when I came home, I just stopped trying. After all, who the hell was I trying to impress? Not Peter, who has said over and over again that he wants me to be "me" at home. Well, not so much... I don't think he realized what that really meant.

I'm pretty good and playing a decent version of the real me but without the deep pain when I'm at home. It's not a fake me, like the me at work, it's a me that can, on some level, deal with the anguish and at least find a way to make conversation, clean house, etc. It's the me that still cries because she hurts but can pretty much hold in the wails of a woman who is lost and without purpose. It's the me who gets excited about the Respect Life group and working at the church and is able to feel peace and hope and all those wonderful things by being there. It's the real me, just a better looking version. It's not the me who gets out of bed with wacked out hair and in need of a shower; it's the me who is clean, with a gorgeous hairstyle, and a classy outfit. Still me; just better looking. Not quite the fake me who deals with the rest of the world.

Well, this was the me out of bed. For the few minutes I was at home before we went to church, when the better looking me came out (although it was a struggle) and then went back into the "real" me at home. I was sad, didnt' want to talk, and just wanted to lay around. So I did. Everything hurt and I just didnt have the energy to pretend that it didnt.

Come Tuesday morning, I woke up feeling just as sad, and not over my meldown. I got showered and was getting ready to leave when, while I was in the midst of making Peter an english muffin for breakfast, he said"So when are you giving your notice." To which, I'll admit I gave a smart ass reply, "Funny" was answered and went on about my business. Then he goes into how nothing is worth having me like this every day, etc., etc. To which I reply, again, smart ass, I realize, that sure, I'll quit my job and also give up the aspirations of us adding to our family because CSS sure as hell wont place a child where the family cant meet their financial responsibilities and if I quit, we wont be able to afford the copays alone to see Dr. Lee even though our insurance covers everything. To which, he replied something along the lines of how I'm not an effective or good parent this way.

Now, being the rational thinker I am right now, I know that he didnt mean it the way it came out of his mouth. But, what I heard was "You are a bad parent". And I flipped. I grabbed my lunch and tried to get out of the kitchen. He stepped in front of me to which I reply that he'd better get out of my way because I need to leave. That he cant say that to me and even expect me to stay. He moved. Well, once I'm in the living room grabbing my stuff together, I cant leave bad enough alone and yell how dare he judge me. At least I didnt finish the thought. Then, as I'm leaving, my bag catches on the table by the door and pulls it out, causing the children's u/s pics to fall and their little statues to turn over. Well, now I really freak out. I'm crying, he's crying. Eventually, I'm not sure how, we ended up on the floor. I remember screaming and wailing so much that my throat hurt (and still hurts). The worst part was that I couldnt even stay home because of staffing and payroll issues, so, in the midst of this hell, I got up and left. I heard him sobbing from outside, at my car. I go back inside, we hold for a few minutes, and then, once again, I leave. All this before 9am.

We talked throughout the day, about our misunderstandings, about the expression of grief. By last night, we were better with one another. But now, I'm back to being the "better me". The me who can't even openly be grieving on the level that actually heals because I am grieving in a way that is better for the others involved. And maybe, who knows, that is better. I'm the type of person that can even convince myself of the role to play, and perhaps this person is better suited for a life after loss than the deeply rooted me that came out on Monday. And, perhaps this me will beat the other one into such a corner that I wont have to worry about her for a while.

For those of you who may have just stumbled onto this blog and think it is my battle with Multiple Personality Disorder, I hate to disappoint. I'm just an orphaned mother who is dealing with her grief.

But, onto other things (says the well dressed version!)... We had our Respect Life group meeting last night and, even though I find this hard to believe, we have filled the bus we are taking to Washington in a week! When Peter and I started this, we were told how the bus was rarely even halfway full, yada yada yada, and to get the smallest bus available. WELL! We have filled that bus and have had to upgrade to another bus, which we very well may fill also! As this group is the one thing that really energizes me to action, it's a great feeling to know that so many have come out to take part in this and that we have played a role in that. I'm nervous about the March, especially because it is so cold, but we shall see how that goes! Once that is over, the focus changes to bringing the FOCA legislation into perspective and delving into deeper avenues of outreach.

We have choir practice tonight. It's horrible, but I'm so tired that I'd rather just sleep in. Of course, that doesn't work out so well when folks are depending on you. And, we are starting the music for Lent and Easter, which I really enjoy. Adoramus Te is one of the most beautiful pieces we sing...

Our application for fostering was received and is being "reviewed". God only knows what that means. Once that is over, they will call us to set up a time for a home visit. Who knows what they will think of us? The application didn't ask if we have other children. I can't imagine what they will think to see the pictures of Nick and Sophie and Alex... to see the nursery that is missing a baby... to find the twins' room perfect except that it is empty... But, I suppose these are things that they have to see eventually.

On a medical front (TMI alert), the CM has tapered off. I think that I've had an estrogen crash. To back up, I dont normally produce enough estrogen or progesterone naturally to cause ovulation or menstruation. Hence, the seeing of an RE and the drugs to conceive, etc. After Nick and Sophie, I actually produced enough to cause a period before we went back to Dr. Lee. Then, blood work showed enough Estrogen to use Clomid instead of Gonal-F. This led to a chemical pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage. This baby would have been due on Sophia's birthday and we felt she was a little girl... After that, no more estrogen/progesterone, so we went back to Gonal-F and that whole regiment. I think that has happened again, although not on the same scale. I havent had a period, but CM production is a result of estrogen, so I think that the increased CM was a result of that. Now that it is tapering off, I think that my estrogen levels have dropped. I really wasnt keen on doing another Clomid cycle, since it made me feel rotton, so perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. I can't believe we are less than 4 weeks from seeing Dr. Lee again. That seems like so far away, but I know how quickly weeks can go by.

Where do you find the strength on this journey? God, I wish I knew. I dont even know how I get out of bed and come into work everyday. And continuing on the path to expand our children... Where does that come from? Among the fear and the helplessness, something comes out and presses you forward, convinces you to try. Somewhere, from deep inside, the hope that "everything will be fine" convinces you until you can believe it for yourself, even in spite of everything else.

Sophia's 11 month birthday is Friday. Where did that time go? That means that Alexander's 2 month birthday is around the corner and that the month is almost over. Where has my life gone???


A n T said...

Have you and your hubby went to see a counselor or talk to someone on a regular basis? You both have been through so much and I think it would be good for you emotionally, physically and together as a couple for your marriage. (((hugs)))

c. said...

An entire year has passed for me, more than a year actually, and I have no idea where the time has gone. It sounds so cliche, I know, but I sort of feel like I've just emerged from a long hibernation and I can't remember one minute of the last 14 months.

I don't know where you get the motivation to go to work, Michele. No wonder you're having meltdowns, you've lost so much and yet you're still expected to pretend you live a real life.

Thinking of you...