"In this Corner..."

When we first lost our son, Jackson, 3 months ago I bought some books on how to deal with losing a child. I went on blogs and joined support groups both online and in person. I was arming myself with every tool out there to not only survive this, but beat it! That's the kind of girl I am. I am strong and I am a fighter. And fight I did! Yes, I cried, yes, I was sad, mad, and even angry with God. (All of these very "healthy emotions" that you must feel...or so I have been told.) I was doing all the right things. I couldn't understand why all these people talked about how 3 or 4 months down the road, that's the hard part. I thought those women were not tough like me, or that they refused to move on, or that they didn't have the faith I have to get through this.

I thought wrong...

This past Sunday was the 3 month mark of my son's birth. We are just under one month away from his due date, April 15. And very suddenly, "my ass has fallen out from under me." I won't go into all the dirty details of the past week, but you can imagine lots of tears, fights, and exhaustion. And sadness...deep, deep sadness. I remember saying to a dear friend and confidant, "I shouldn't have to be stressing over getting pregnant, I should be stressing over getting ready to bring my son home." Oh and my poor, poor husband. I would look at him sometimes in the middle of a rage or breakdown and see in his eyes a woman he didn't know how to help or what to do with.

The fighter was losing the match...


Sunday morning I found that I wasn't pregnant, and much to my disbelief I was surprisingly relieved. My husband and I survived a busy and pleasant Sunday and went to bed. Monday morning, I woke up, got Tom off to work, and decided it was time to throw in the towel. You see grief isn't a match you win. Grief is grief, and it doesn't work on your timeline and it isn't a 12 step program. Sometimes grief deals the cards. Yes, I have choices. I still choose to get up every day and shower. I still choose to see friends and go shopping. I still choose to love God, despite the fact that He called my son home too early from me. But grief is going to happen and you can fight it or take it, but you will eventually deal with it. And friends, I was way too tired to fight anymore. So I made 3 calls. One to a priest friend of mine for confession and spiritual direction and the second one was to my doctor. Yesterday I saw both. I received help from both. The third call was to a social worker friend of mine who gave me the name of a counselor who helps women who have lost a child as I have. The last 2 days I have slept for almost 3 hours during the day. I realize I am literally exhausted from fighting for 3 months. My doctor and my priest both gave me good advice to slowly get back on my feet. I am working on routines. And yes, I am taking medication too. I need it. Probably not forever, but definitely for now. I am focusing on getting healthy again. I have gained about 20 lbs since I lost my son from comforting myself with food instead of dealing with this the right way. That too needs to change for me and for my future children.

Sick of faking...

It's only day 2, and even though the medication will take awhile to kick in, I feel better. I feel better because I finally decided to give myself a break. It's ok if I am still sad. It's ok if I am not ready to be pregnant yet. It's ok if my house isn't perfect...or even close to it. So many days I would run around for the 30 minutes to an hour before my husband got home from work so he wouldn't know I just sat around for most of the day. When people ask me how I am doing and I say fine, or better, or ok (because really that's what they want to hear) I guess I feel like I don't have to anymore.

This doesn't mean I have chosen to walk around moping now that I had this revelation. In fact, most probably won't notice a difference. But I will know. My husband surely will notice. And I imagine soon the fighter in me will resurface. For now, I am learning about asking for the help you need. It doesn't make you a coward or make you weak. In some ways it makes you brave, I suppose. It's not easy to ask for help. But "I get by with a little help from my friends..."