Thursday, June 24, 2010

Falling tears

June 24, 2010

I just wanted to see her picture. To reassure myself that she wasn't a dream. As if the sadness in my heart doesn't remind me of that every day. But still, I wanted something physical. There is a particular picture of her that I love. I love it because she looks like a living baby to me. It's not that I want to fool myself that she was alive. That's not why I like it. It's that when she looks alive I can focus on her and not on the fact that she was dead. I looked at the soft skin of her shoulder and wanted desperately to kiss her. The tears dropped down my cheeks. I didn't even realize they had been building inside me but as they released I felt myself open up and relax. I let myself feel my love for her. I didn't keep it at bay. Along with the love comes the pain, but I let myself feel that too. She was a little person, I thought. Sometimes I really do feel like she was a dream and I'm almost surprised at the fact that she wasn't.

I analyzed her features. Everything about her face was Jeremy. Everything. But darn if that little girl didn't have my hands. I could almost feel her skin against my lips. But I never kissed her. I had a daughter that I never kissed. Oh that makes me ache inside.

My second favorite picture is of Jeremy holding her. You can see how tiny she was in that picture. Jeremy is smiling a sad and tired smile. And this time I noticed that his eyes were wet. I had never noticed that before. My heart broke for him; for the strength that he maintained for me, the gentility he possessed, the exhaustion he must have felt. His eyes in that picture said so much. So much. And my tears kept falling.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Pouchoscopy

June 21, 2010

I had one of my frequently reocurring dreams the other night. It's one where I'm back in college. There is this time warp thing happening so that it's simultaneously the mid-90's and the present time. The time warp creates this kind of anxious confusion for me. I'm not exactly sure what I should be doing. I'm trying to settle into a dorm room in some type of hostile environment which makes settling impossible. I'm keenly aware of the fact that I need to get my mail, only I get lost trying to find my mail box and I worry that I'm going to get in trouble because there are months worth of mail waiting for me. I get lost trying to move my clothes from some unknown location to my dorm room. And then there's Jeremy. All of a sudden I realize he's not with me and so none of this can be right. And I don't know how to get to him, but I know that I need to be with him.

I hate that dream. I hate it. I wake up all anxious and feeling guilty for some reason too. I look over at Jeremy sleeping next to me. It was just a dream Abby. Just a dream. Friday morning before we left for my dilation we took Django for a walk. And as we walked, we talked about Harper. We talked about the guilt we both have felt over everything that happened. Guilt is a normal part of grief and loss. It's a part of the process that can really mess you up too. We talked to each other about how we handled our own respective guilt and reflected to each other how we viewed the other's guilt. There has been this balance we have had to find as we go through the healing process together, a balance of separateness and togetherness. There are times that we desperately need to know we are in this thing together, and other times where we need to acknowledge how individual both of our experiences are. Yesterday's conversation was a beautiful mixture of both.

As I laid on the gurney with the IV in my arm, I looked up at Jeremy standing out of the nurse's way. I saw his blond eyebrows. They always remind me of Harper. We heard a voice in the bay area next to ours. Jeremy mouthed the name of a doctor. I smiled and nodded. Dr. C. He was with us through it all. He was a fellow who worked with Dr. I. I can't see Dr. C without remembering him sitting in my room with my mom and me on the labor and delivery floor. They had already started to induce my labor. It was dark outside. He sat next to my bed with a defeated look on his face. He told me we could have another baby. I knew he said that because he wanted to make everything better. His bottom lip quivered with emotion as he talked with mom and me.

The dilation went well. I actually didn't need to be dilated. And even better than that, Dr. T said everything looked really good. She said the enemas I started in January were making a big difference for me, she could tell. She also said she eventually wanted me to have the revision surgery. (Why I don't know. She talked to Jeremy about it while I was in recovery, so I didn't to ask questions and I don't think he got into that with her.) So while this is great news, I'm still confused about all the pain I was in last week. The pain is gone now though, so I guess I'll take it as a blessing. I would have had to have the procedure done in August anyway for my annual exam, so even though the dilation wasn't necessary, the scoping served a purpose.

Thanks for your well wishes and good thoughts. That's the word for now.

Friday, June 18, 2010

It's his cheese too

June 18, 2010

I have my dilation scheduled for 10:30 this morning. We have to get there an hour before for paperwork and prep. Because I have no colon, the only prep I have to do is not drink or eat for four hours before the procedure. I don't have to drink the colon prep stuff that those of you who have experienced a colonoscopy have had the pleasure of drinking. Whew. So here I am now, up at 5:00 a.m. trying to hydrate myself good and plenty for the next hour so starting my IV is easy for the nurse. The last couple of days I've been drinking more water than I usually do (which is a lot anyway) to try to stay hydrated too. They have enough problems starting IV's on me due to scar tissue that's formed on my veins from so many needles (I sound like a drug addict don't I?), dehydration is the last thing I need! I also thought I better have a cup of coffee while I can so I don't get a caffeine headache. I don't mind getting up early because I know after the procedure I'll be all drugged up and sleepy and will nap the afternoon away anyway.

My OB/GYN called me this week with the results of my lab work I did last week. She said my thyroid was normal, which was great. When it came to the results of my hormone levels she said there are three ways those results can go. One, they can show very clearly that my hormones are normal. Two, they can show that I am very clearly going through premature menopause. And three, they can be confusing and not show clearly either way. Guess which way my results went? Yep. Number three. She said if we were trying to get pregnant, which we are not, she would want to explore the results further, or if my symptoms got worse, but since neither of those things are issues for me right now, she recommended that I do what women who are going through menopause do. Which is, that I take calcium, vitamin D, and do weight bearing exercises to address the issue of bone density. Okay. No problem. I already do the exercising.

When I was at my appointment with her I had also talked to her about my migraines, which I think are hormonal. I'll be seeing a neurologist/headache specialist on the 29th (it's been ten years since I did that last), but in the meantime, I've started on progesterone pills to see if by stopping my ovulation I can decrease the migraines because I've noticed I get them the worst when I ovulate. So I've been on the pills for almost two weeks now. And I thought everything was going fine, but last night I started connecting some dots, and I'm not so sure this is going to work out for me. I think the pills are affecting my depression. Which is just crazy to me. Seriously.

Earlier this week I told Jeremy that something's been happening to my thoughts lately. Out of nowhere these really negative thoughts will pop into my head. And when I say really negative, I mean really negative. It's not like the thoughts are connected to any train of thought I'm having either. They just pop in and out. They don't stick around long, and I don't obsess about them. I know this isn't normal for me. I've also been incredibly irritable. I'm having to do a lot of self-talk to keep myself from being annoyed and lashing out about things that really don't matter at all. Come on Abby. Do you really need to rip Jeremy a new one for eating the last piece of cheese? No. You don't. It's his cheese too. Things like that all the time. I know, it sounds kind of funny. And I can get some perspective and see that these things that are happening are not me.

At first I thought maybe something was happening with my anti-depressants and so I put a call in to Dr. N (who is out of the country until November), asking him if we needed to tweak things a little maybe. I still haven't heard back from him, but after I left the message for him telling him the timeline of these symptoms, I realized that they coincided with when I started taking the progesterone. Last night I hopped on-line (God bless the internet, right?) and looked into the side effects of progesterone. Yes, I did read through them when I started them, which is why there was something in the back of my mind saying they might be the culprit. Sure enough, my symptoms were on the list of possible side effects. I'm not going to make decisions about these things without talking to my doctors, but I'm pretty certain that's what's happening.

Having an explanation is helpful. Absolutely. But last night I felt so discouraged about it all. So am I going to have to choose between the pain of migraines versus depressive thoughts? As I closed up my laptop I sat there on the couch and pictured all the chemicals in my body that all the medications I'm on produce. I've never liked the idea of taking medications. (Not that anyone likes taking medications.) But what can I do? I felt helpless and needy. But maybe I need to shift my paradigm on this. I could be grateful that there are these things that can help me. Were it not for medications I would be dead right now. Plain and simple. Or maybe I should just allow myself to be frustrated and not beat myself up for not being grateful all the time. I don't know . . .

In the meantime I'll cope by, as Dr. N would say, observing the depressive thoughts and recognizing that's what they are, and buy stocking the fridge with extra cheese.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Ugh

June 15, 2010

Things have been a little rocky for me lately health-wise. The last couple of weeks I haven't felt well and this weekend they got worse. Saturday night I was in a lot pain when I went to the bathroom (which was frequently) and then for quite some time afterwards as well. Then all day Sunday too. Monday morning I got up and showered and dressed for work only to break down crying as I approached my front door, realizing that I wasn't going to be able to manage with all the pain I was in. I called in sick yesterday and pestered Dr. G's office till they got me in to see him yesterday afternoon. He said he thinks I need a dilation. I'm guessing he's right. He wrote orders for Dr. T to do a dilation ASAP. He said if she couldn't get me in right away to page the resident working with him and let him know. I'm guessing she'll be able to get me in. She's usually pretty good about that. Because he's now the Dean and only sees patients on Monday afternoons, it will be easier to get in to see her than him. I'll be calling first thing this morning to get it scheduled.

It's disappointing to have this issue creep up on me again. The pain is exhausting.

The resident that was working with Dr. G yesterday introduced himself to me when he came in the room like we had never met. Seriously? He saw me pretty regularly while I was in the hospital too. He's been seeing me for years. I never liked him. Even when I was in the hospital he would stand close to the door like he was afraid of me or something. Yesterday he never let me finish my sentence before he moved on to the next question. Not once. So annoying. It wasn't till I was up on the gurney with him palpating my abdomen that he remembered who I was. "How many times have you been admitted?" he asked. I laughed. "Hmmm . . . eight, maybe ten. I don't know." "Do you have children?" he dared to ask me. "We lost a child when all this happened in the beginning." Then he remembered. "Oh yeah. You saw Dr. I then right? You were on cyclosporine? You look different. That was a tough time." Well, at least he remembered that much. Someone seriously needs to talk to that man about his bedside manner. I don't really put much stock in what the residents say anyway. I wait till I hear things from Dr. G because I've heard him contradict what they've said too many times. But he was just outright annoying.

So anyway. I'm going to work today, pain and all. Grumpy, down mood and all. And I'm hoping to get in for my dilation by the end of the week. Cross your fingers for me. Ugh.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Away from the past

June 7, 2010

"Who's your doctor?" the brunette with the baby in a carry seat sitting next to her asked the heavy set blond woman.

"Dr. C," she answered. "She's really soft spoken. Do you know her?" The brunette squinched her face and shook her head affirmatively.

"You don't like her?" the blond asked. Hmph. I know her. Soft spoken yes, but that woman was not straight with me about my choices when it came to how Harper needed to be delivered. Did I really tell her I was angry at her? I think I did. There on my hospital bed, tears flowing, I told her I was angry because I was told I had more choices than delivering my dead daughter when she had told me I did not. Let it go Abby. Let it go. Forgive. You have to forgive her and consider how things turned out a blessing. This anger is not going to do you any good. Let. It. Go.

In the exam room the nursing student began with her questions. And then she came to the one I knew she would come to. "And how many pregnancies have you had?"

"One," I said.

"And it was a live birth?" she asked looking at her paper.

"No. It was a still birth," I responded and looked at the floor.

"When was the date of your last period?" She moved on. No "I'm sorry." No eye contact. And did we really just refer to the most imporant thing in my life as "it?" I think we did. Both of us. I suppose keeping "it" impersonal is easier. Easier for who? Not for me, that's for sure.

I sat on the gurney in the paper outfit, legs dangling over the edge, and I thought about how other women answer that question. I thought about my friends who have been struggling to get pregnant and have had numerous miscarriages. They know how hard it is to answer that question too. I thought about how I used to feel so good about these appointments. I know that sounds crazy, but there used to be a part of me that walked out of the OB/GYN's office and felt like I was really taking care of myself. Now I dread it. Now I wish I could ignore it all. And so there was a part of me that was relieved when my doctor said she wanted to do tests to see if I was going through premature menopause. Thinking about my fertility is just downright painful sometimes. Yes, I'm only 35, but the nightsweats, change in my cycle, increase frequency in migraines, all those symptoms made her wonder. So we'll see.

The exam was traumatic for me. A rush of memories flooded me. When I was alone in the room again I stood to change my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. My nose was red and my eyes were full of tears. Maybe if I wait a few minutes I won't look like I've been crying. I walked out of the office and as I waited for the elevator to arrive, I stepped into the hallway and peaked through the doors to the Labor and Delivery floor. Just through those doors is where I last saw Harper. I hesitated. Should I go down there to see the room? Part of me wanted to. But no. Not today. Besides, I doubt they would let me down there anyway. The elevator arrived and I went back to my life. Away from the hospital. Back to the present. Away from the past.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

So much in a nod

June 1, 2010

This morning as he was heading out the door, Jeremy gave me a mix CD he had compiled this weekend of songs about and for Harper. I put it in to listen to on my way to work, but I couldn't listen to all of it. Especially the song that he wrote that has her heartbeat in it. I had to skip that one. I remembered a time when she was still with me, when the song was new, I listened to it for hours on repeat.

The man I was sitting next to at a training today asked me if I had kids. "None living," I said. "Oh. You lost a child?" he asked. I told him I had. He said, "Me too." He told me he had a child who only lived for three days. He must have been 60 years old. He went on to say, "Oh and you were probably going along having a good day and I had to ask you that question." I smiled and reassured him that it hadn't ruined my day. It was so nice to hear someone understand how that tiny little question could send one reeling (and had done so in the past to me). "It's just a part of life for me now. Something that will always be with me." He nodded in agreement.

When I think about Harper and the love I have for her, I always end up thinking about Jeremy and the blessing he is in my life. I think about how sharing her has brought us closer to each other. And then I sometimes think about how long we will be together, and, ultimately I end up thinking about what I will do when I lose him one day (meaning when one of us dies). Isn't that horrible? But I can't help it. I get really angry sometimes when I think about how we will spend our lives together as partners only to be separated by death in the end. It just isn't fair and it doesn't make much sense to me. And then this is where I do a little self talk: Okay Abby, let's try the glass is half full approach shall we? How lucky are you that you have him to share your life with now? Enjoy what you have now.

Oh, and tonight I'm tired and not feeling well. Would that I could drift off to sleep and my little girl would come and visit me in my dreams.