Anxiety Returns

I believed I was all better. I hadn't felt paranoid or anxious in a few months. Not since Jude's seizure, really. It all began last Friday, when Daniel and I were out celebrating our seventh dating anniversary. It was one stupid thing after another, all strung together to pull down my happy mood.

I'm also struggling with all these pregnancy announcements, that seem to be pouring in daily. BLMs and non-BLMs. I think almost everyone who was also pregnant while I was pregnant with Jude is already having another one. I know if I had the choice, I wouldn't be ready to make Jude a big brother for probably another year, but just watching everyone else have their own choice and the ability to add another baby to their family has awakened a fierce ache. It feels a lot like the ache I had when Avery was gone and I was watching everyone else have their healthy living babies. Just so happens, last weekend, another announcement struck me at a vulnerable moment and I fell apart.

I felt so angry at God. In my head, I yelled at Him, asking Him why He chose this for me. And even if He didn't choose this plan for my life, how could He allow it while I had such a desire for the opposite? Why would He allow this desire to anchor so deeply since childhood? Then, inevitably, the guilt over my anger, mixed with the pain, and just made for a really down evening. It also set the stage for what was to come over the week.

Oddly enough, just like last April, my period decided to be late. Three days this time. I was supposed to get it Saturday, so when Tuesday rolled around, and it still hadn't come, I was panicking. The same thoughts from last year surfaced. The possibility of losing another baby or losing my life trying to get that baby here plagued me constantly. These situations are so painful for me, like being kicked right in the face. It's insulting to pray away what you wish so badly you could have. You are forced to not want what you really do want.

Daniel couldn't take it anymore and went out and bought me a pregnancy test. I never thought I'd have to take one ever again. I was so scared of what it would say. I felt like I was about to find out if I would live or die as I watched the test. When it came up with just one line instead of two, I burst into tears, clutching Daniel so tightly. I was so relieved that no one would be dying... but I was all over again, so upset that this is my reality. That I live a life like this where I'm denied so much of what I dreamed of... and having it anyway, could literally kill me... or innocent babies.

I thought things would be looking up after that. But I guess all of the anxiety and the fears came to head on Wednesday. That night, right before Daniel had to leave for work, I started having an anxiety attack. I was having hot flushes and nausea. It was coming in waves. Finally, being alone and fearing I should go to the hospital, I called my mom. I felt bad waking her, but she was exactly what I needed, especially since Daniel was at work. She knew I'd been under a lot of emotional stress lately and felt that my symptoms came from that. I hoped she was right. After all, some of my biggest fears involve my health and ending up back in the hospital like I was for my clots. But thank God, after talking to my mom for a while, my symptoms started to fade. She calmed me enough to distract me and the symptoms stopped completely.

I was so relieved that it was all in my head. I looked up the symptoms of anxiety attacks and I had almost all of them. Wow. It's never gotten that bad before. I spent the next day with my brothers and parents and I felt much better getting out of the house. There were a couple anxious moments over the weekend, but somehow I managed.

Today, I finally feel more like myself. I'm a bit disappointed that I have allowed myself to get that low again, to where I let my emotions make me physically ill. I'm aware that I can't help it, but I wish I was stronger. Some people suggest taking medication for my anxiety, but I would much rather not, if I can help it. I'm not against it and I believe it can be extremely necessary for people. But I would really like to try getting through this without it.

I really don't want to live this way. I don't want the joy of others to bring me so much pain. It makes me feel ugly. While I never wish any ill will toward them, it still makes me feel bad about myself that I don't know how to separate their happiness from my misfortune. I wish their blessings didn't trigger the inevitable reflecting of myself. I just want to be happy and enjoy what I do have, without being so reluctant. I don't want to compare myself to everyone else and feel so deprived. I pray it's something that will fade over time.

I'm hoping and praying that things get better from here and that the anxiety stays away!

Baby Girl

What's it like to hold your own chubby pink baby girl? What's it like to buy all sorts of pink and fill a room with girly cuteness? What's it like to hang and fold the sweetest of dresses? What's it like to paint tiny finger and toenails? What's it like to attend playful little tea parties, and watch your little girl breeze through the room dressed like a princess? What's it like to braid her soft hair on her small head, or give her a ponytail? What's it like to have your daughter?

I am left only to imagine what all of this is like. I've spent countless hours imagining all of this. The absence of this. The loss of this. I ache for my little girl. The one I lost. The one I can't have. I never dreamed I would never have the chance to have another girl after we lost Avery. I thought surely we could fix this monstrous defect inside me. That medical intervention would be all we needed to get the rest of them here. The sweet little lives I dreamed of bringing into this world. The ones that will never be. Who would they have been? I'm sure at least one would have been another girl. I still desire that so much. I ache to raise a little girl. To have the sweet relationship I share with my own mother. To watch her grow into a beautiful woman.

I had my heart set on raising my little girl. More than halfway through my pregnancy, I never thought I would lose her. I didn't know I'd be faced with a future without her. I believed she was my future, for the rest of my life. Then the rug was pulled out from under my feet, taking her away with it. All the plans and the dreams that were planted in my heart the moment she was planted in my womb. I have a daughter... but I don't. I have my daughter waiting for me and I will be with her again one day in Heaven, but here, my arms are aching for her. Aching for a little girl.

Sons are amazing. I would know, I have one. He satisfies my desire of having a son. He fills my heart with joy. He is exactly the son I dreamed of raising, when I named my first son Jude long before I even married his father. His entrance into this world was not what I had in mind, but I'm just thankful he made it here at all. If given the impossible ability to have more sons, I would accept them in a second and be grateful for them and love them completely as well. But still, my heart would ache for what I was supposed to have here.

I just wish so badly I could have another daughter to watch grow up. I think about it so often. I feel so incomplete. It's so difficult to have already lost what you wish you could have.

Jude's 2nd Haircut

We finally gave in and decided to let go of Jude's longer hair. It's been a while since anyone has mistaken him for a girl, so that's not the reason this time, but lately, during his baths, when all of his hair is slicked back, wet, away from his little face, I'd been wishing he could look like that all the time. We bought him some kids hair gel, but it was just too long to stay any way we styled it. We already know what Jude looks like at this age with long hair, but not with short, cute, styled hair. That was how I decided to part with Jude's returning curls once again. Tonight, we had our hairdresser sister-in-law, Margaret, cut it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A part of me was afraid I'd regret having Jude's hair cut so short, but when I saw how cute he looked with his hair styled, I fell in love all over again. He looks so different! But oh so handsome. I love his little face. You can definitely see it (and his little ears and sweet little neck) much better! I love my little cutie!

April Fools

I have always disliked April Fools Day. Even as a kid, I was overly compassionate (not gullible, there's a difference) and I despised the embarrassment that would ensue when I fell for a friend's poor excuse for a joke. I don't know who came up with this ridiculous day, but I'd like to think that they didn't intend for it to be used to harm and hurt anyone. I think the jokes were meant to be light and silly. But they never are.

Of course, as anyone would expect, my biggest April Fools pet peeve is the fake pregnancy announcement. I hope to not rant too much or make a huge deal about this but honestly, I have yet to come across a baby loss mom or a woman struggling with infertility that isn't hurt by these "jokes." To us, it's not a joke whatsoever. It's a serious, sacred thing to be pregnant. Even before I lost Avery, I held it to that high esteem. I can't fathom how not everyone does. My loss didn't change that, I grew up that way. I understand that everyone is different.

Sadly, there have been several women in the baby loss community who were berated for expressing their feelings about the "joke," hoping to spread awareness that there are countless numbers of women out there who could be hurt by it. I cannot believe they were treated so poorly, with such ugly words thrown at them for being honest and asking for sensitivity. I try to put myself in a "normal" person's shoes and look at it from their point of view. I still can't imagine getting so defensive and going against a person who knows such agony and defending a stupid joke over their pain. If I had no idea what losing a baby (or what not being able to have the kids I wanted to have) was like, I'd be grateful for the heads up, as I may not realize that it could be hurtful. I would never want to unknowingly hurt someone with something as petty as a joke. It's okay to not know. Our community doesn't expect people to understand. But we ache for sensitivity and validation. That's why we share our hearts... to raise awareness. We have to journey through this life without our babies. We need help from those around us. It makes it so much more bearable when we feel like people care. I just don't understand why people could get so angry to find out that certain jokes hurt people. It's sad that we live in a world where people don't want to choose compassion for the needs of others. Instead they get defensive and mean. I wish it could be different.

Real pregnancy announcements strike my heart with this searing ache that I can't really describe. It's not a spiteful jealousy, but I long to be like the woman expressing her joy. When I see/hear an announcement, it's like someone held up a mirror for me to look at myself. In my reflection, I see a broken mother with an incredibly flawed body, with arms only half full. The announcements remind me of what I have lost and of what I cannot have. They have nothing to do with the mother sharing her happy news, or with her precious unborn baby. But it reignites this internal struggle I've been battling to be content and happy with what God has allowed for my life.

That being said, I know many other women who struggle with pregnancy news for similar reasons and with similar feelings. I'd do anything to be pregnant again. It's not a joke to me. So to see an announcement that is intended to fool people and see them accept all the kind congratulations and excitement from the gullible ones for a baby they essentially made up, just hurts. Some may think it's overly sensitive, some may think it's asking too much because everything is going to offend at least one person... But why can't some things in life just be universally sacred? Babies/pregnancy/baby loss. Cancer. Handicaps. Things like that should never be joked about.

I was watching Jimmy Fallon last night and Alec Baldwin was one of his guests. Alec told a story about how he pulled an April Fools prank on his daughter by pretending he was having a heart attack. He went as far as to let her call 911 before finally letting her know it was a joke. He laughed as he told the story and thought nothing of it. Okay, that's just rotten. How could you put your child through that for even a minute? To let them think you may be dying and they're about to lose you. I would be so upset with my dad if he did that to me (he would never). It would hurt me that he would put me through that for the sake of a prank. Jokes and pranks should leave everyone laughing at the end with a playful, "Oh, you got me! Good one!" Not trying to stop tears as you realize no one is dying or trying to hold your heart together as you are once again reminded that pregnancy is something that brings you devastation while others can easily throw it around like it's nothing. It makes you feel all alone all over again.

I wish we were more unified as people. That we would understand that everyone has their battles and that we all need grace for those journeys we walk through. No one likes to be the so-called party pooper or to demand people to meet their needs. But we could all think twice about the things we say or do that could cause people unnecessary pain, and not just on April Fools Day, but in our day to day lives. Why is it so hard to be nice? To care? To lighten the burden even just a little for those going through hardships. To have patience and understanding for people who seem to have unrealistic needs. It may seem ridiculous from the outside, crazy even, but just have a little grace. They walk a much different road, one that they'd never want you to walk down, even if you chose to show them no compassion. <3