Stew

April 19, 2009

I haven't been feeling great lately. I'm in denial. Yesterday Jeremy suggested that I ask for Fridays off at work again because it seems like I'm going to need to have the time available to have dilations done again. I really just want to complain for a minute. I've been trying so hard to stay positive, but I'm feeling pretty discouraged right now.

I'm sick of this whole ordeal. I'm sick of having to go to the hospital, get stuck with needles and IV's, and then have what is really a quite painful procedure done. My doctor is literally tearing open scar tissue that's inside me when she does the dilations. It hurts. And I'm tired of experiencing the pain. I'm dreading having to do it again. Drugs can only take care of so much.

I'm having more pain now too. I just want to be done with all of this so I can move on, but my body doesn't seem to be where my mind is.

But what's really underneath it all is that Harper's birthday is this week. A year ago tomorrow, April 20th was when I believe I experienced her spirit leaving my body. We found out on the 21st that she had died, and I delivered her on the 22nd. It was the worst night of my life. It's not fair that a woman should have to give birth to a dead baby. It's just not fair.

My little girl weighed 14 ounces. She was formed perfectly. I pushed her out of me in one strong push. There was no cry. There were just somber faces looking at me with controlled fear. I was numb. I couldn't believe it was happening to me. My whole life was completely out of my control. Part of me just wanted to move on; not to deal with her. I had been sick for so long. I just wanted to get my life back; to feel better again.

I felt all trapped inside myself. I didn't even have time to grieve for her. It was just a couple of weeks after her birth that I had surgery to have my colon removed. I was in the hospital over Mother's Day last year. My colon had just been removed a couple of days before. I was learning how to empty my ostomy appliance and how to care for the part of my intestine that was sticking out of my abdomen before they sent me home. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed in that hospital room. No one knew what to do with me.

When I think about all of this, I feel very angry. I'm angry at how helpless I am; how helpless we all are at the circumstances that life throws us.

I have this conversation going on in my mind as I write this. Things like, "But there are people who have it worse than you Abby," or "Look how far you've come!" But honestly, I just don't want to talk myself out of what I'm feeling right now. I guess I want to wallow a little bit. Tomorrow I'll give myself the pep talk that I need to focus and find peace. Tonight - tonight I just want to stew in the anger a little. Sounds like fun, huh? Bet you wish you were here!