Saturday, April 17, 2010


Invitation in the mail today to the annual DB memorial at my local hospital. C will not go. I probably won't.

The last (and only) time I went was the day before my due date. The actual day before my boys were actually due.

I will probably skip it again this year for a multitude of reasons. The religious aspect is not comforting. I have been shown in several ways by many people I love that our loss, our little ones are remembered. That means more to me.

Certainly, my state of mind these days would indicate that not going is the better choice. I had to go to the local hospital for a blood test (just to check for therapeutic levels of my antidepressants) a couple of days ago and wound up having to sit for a while in the general waiting area by registration. I wound up near the gift shop, and thought about the sweet nurse (Brianna?) who coordinated our transfer to the University Hospital, and, who, when I mentioned to C that I didn't have any tissues for the ride, ran into the shop to get me some.

At one point as I waited, a big burly man tramped through with big grin on his face and a b0ppy around his neck, a bunch of bag and balloons, clearly off to get the car ready for a new arrival. I hoped hard that I would miss the big departure, be called in for my registration. I did.

I thought about Sara, the nurse who spent time with me all that Friday, and volunteered to be our labor nurse when it came time. And Janet, the nurse who had her own loss at 20 weeks almost 30 years earlier, and worked as the hospital's grief counselor. And Renee, who was married to one of the ER doctors. And the nurse whose name I don't remember, but wore something over her hair, a cap of some sort for Quaker or Amish women? I don't know.

There were others, a few I guess. It's a small hospital. My intake for this blood work was in the ER, yes, at that desk.

I hadn't realized how long it had been. Or, maybe, seem to have let time pass without thinking about all these details.

That's good, I guess. Progress.

Even though it doesn't feel like it very much today.

Somehow, the rawness seems to have returned. Maybe that's where so much of my anger comes from. Angry and sad.

Upon hearing that I considered, just for a fleeting moment, the half-bottle of K in my hand after a stressful moment, at the end of a stressful day...upon hearing this, my current a-d dose is increased. Mention of more intense outpatient services at a city hospital is made by my pharma.

My therapist is...not opposed to something more intense. I am not entirely opposed. She thinks maybe it would be a good thing. I don't entirely disagree. But I cannot believe this is my life now. I think, maybe I am as broken as I feared. Maybe I can believe it. Give in to the myth.

Couples counselor thinks I am not broken. She thinks I need to change my situation, school, work, I don't know. To what? I don't know that, either.

Where do I go from here? As C reminds me (trying not to panic), I need to work. I have debt to pay. Bills. A life to lead.

This is the best work I've done. Most I've ever connected with ideas, with people. But I'm not feeling it. Not now. I don't know where to go with it. And then family squabbles tax me (yes, middle child). Friends grow closer as I prepare to send some on their way, to new homes, new adventures.

My body, my mind swings from okay to crying to okay. To heart-pounding anxiety. To okay. The meds make me want to sleep, as I have not entirely adjusted to the new dose.

On April 14, 2001, in front of my whole family, C asked my parents for their blessing on our marriage. My mom was sitting up in her recliner, blanket over her legs. "You've made us very happy," C remembers her saying.

Three weeks later, she was gone. Maybe 10 days before Mother's Day. We wed about year later, inadvertently, on Mother's Day. Or maybe it was subconscious. Once we realized the day and date, of course we acknowledged it in our wedding, and in the program, On this day celebrating the importance of family, we are honored to spend it with you, as our two families become one.

Spring is here. Driving around, down the highway for errands today, waves of pale green, lilac, shades of pale pink bend to the breezes.


Tash said...

You have an awful lot packed in during this time of year -- I'd certainly ride it out in any way you can and leave decision making until it's in the rear-view mirror.

I think going back to the hospital is a really big thing. I remember last year, actually this month, walking back into the cafeteria at Children's to speak to some parents. It was all shades of awful and yet kinda like slaying the dragon just to go and out of there again.

Thinking of you, Sue.

It is what it is said...

So sorry you are contending with so much.

As Tash said, perhaps this is a better time to just 'be' rather than 'do'.

Perhaps greater clarity will come on the other side of this time of year.

k@lakly said...

I think so too. Just let things be, for a bit. Let the days that carry so much with them pass and spend your time focusing only on what they mean to you.
If you are ready to make 'bigger' decisions, ones with regards to work, school, family, etc., you need to make those when you can truly focus only on them and the future you see for yourself and C.

Hearing about the nurse who went to get you tissues...I suspect she will never forget you either and she probably will never know what a tremendously kind thing she did in taking that extra time to bring them to you. It's the little things, isn't it, that matter so much.

Thinking of you and all you are carrying and hoping, so much, that load gets lighter in the coming days.


luna said...

just thinking of you, sue. hoping this load gets lighter.

Aunt Becky said...

I don't have anything to offer because really, I don't have any solutions for anyone (even myself), but I'm here. And I wish your burden was lighter. I wish like hell I could help.

Sara said...

I was always fortunate in MI that our hospital was the size of a city so I didn't have to be in that part of the concrete town for other reasons.

She wouldn't be Amish working in the hospital, around here perhaps Old German Baptist or Brethren. That's my helpful contribution. Otherwise I don't know; I just wish I could make things pause for you, to give you some breathing room.

Unknown said...

Just sending you hugs...

Betty M said...

Thinking of you.