There
are days when I'm laying in bed at night, watching tv, and I feel
something, like a gentle kick or a rolling over, and I get caught off
guard. Obviously it must be gas, or my dinner digesting, but it does
make me stop for a moment. I wonder if this is similar to amputees, who
tend to feel their limbs after they've been removed. I never had these
moments after Whitney, but I do now, and it just reminds me that I miss her.
Whitney
and I were watching the movie Annie, as we had many times before, but
this time was different. I am still getting emotional surprises from time
to time, and today, as we were watching the film, I had to turn away
from her as tears were streaming down my cheeks. It was the part of the
movie where Miss Hannigan, Rooster, and Lily kidnapped Annie
from Mr. Warbucks. They sang a song and when Mr. Warbucks sang, "And
maybe I'll forget how much she meant to me...and how she was almost my
baby...Maybe." I just lost it.
It's now been
nearly 5 months, and everyone who was pregnant or has become pregnant in that time
has had a girl. At first this was really hard to deal with, because I
was supposed to have one too. And every time I heard about a girl, it was a reminder that I was missing one. For months, I kept wishing boys on all my friends (but it didn't work). Luckily, I'm at the point now where it's not so bad to hear. I have convinced myself that this is the
way the universe is being kind to me...the more it happens, the more
numb I am getting and the less it bothers me. And, I am hopeful that
I'll have the opportunity to have another girl in the upcoming months.
I
was watching Dr. Phil the other day, and he said something that struck a
chord with me..."We remember the days that changed who we are." And
that's very true. As I am writing this, with a few months' perspective,
a lot of what happened has grown fuzzy. But certain parts are
vivid...like they happened yesterday. And those really are the moments
that forever changed me, for better or worse. Those are the moments
that broke me and the moments where I learned or grew. They changed the
way I viewed myself and my world.
I am just two days shy of
the 5 month mark. I have been feeling really good and really positive
for a while. I am able to talk about my experiences and tell people what happened much
easier now. But just when you think that you're alright, something will
happen and remind you that emotionally you're still frail. Tonight, I
got a phone call from one of my best friends to tell me that she was
moving to Texas. She got offered a job and the opportunity was too good
to pass up, so in 3 weeks, she'd be leaving. We've been friends for
more than half of our lives and in all that time never lived more than a
few miles away, except while she was in law school. We were roommates
in college, and we bought houses within walking distance of each other.
We were each other's maids of honor. And tonight, when she told me her
news, I was truly happy for her, but sad for me. I was fine throughout
most of our conversation, but then when we hung up, I started feeling
like I wanted to cry. About 10 minutes later, after thinking,
"Jenny...she's your friend. It's not like she's your spouse or child.
Your schedules haven't meshed in a while and you hardly hang out with
her anymore, so nothing is really going to be changing on a day-to-day
basis. What's with all this emotion?" And then all of a sudden, it hit
me...It's just another person I love that was being taken out of my
life. And that was it. Even though we don't see each other a lot, even
though our kids are different ages and don't play together, even though
we live different lives, she is my one friends that I can always count
on to be there, to support me, and to drop whatever she is doing at a
moment's notice if I needed her to. She is the closest thing I have to a
sister. She was the one person I called when I was in the hospital to come
keep me company at night. And, although she had worked a full day and
had two kids to take care of, she found the time to come sit with me
when I needed someone. And even though she'll be just a phone call
away, it won't be the same, and I'm going to miss her. I told Andy the
news and how upset I was, and he tried to console me. And I told him
that I mentally know things are going to be fine, but I'm just having an
emotional over-reaction to it, and it's coming from dealing with
another loss. It's such a strange thing when you cannot control your
reactions. There is a split between my mind and my heart that still
hasn't healed, and it's times like these that I know I still have
healing left to do.
I went to Kansas City for an annual trip I make with one of my part-time jobs, and the people I ran into there either didn't know me
or hadn't seen me in a year. One year ago, I wasn't even pregnant yet.
And in 5 days time, I felt the need to explain my situation to 10 or
more people. (I lost count.) Getting to know people or just in
catching up, I talked about my almost 3 year-old daughter, and I heard a lot of, "It's about time for another one" or "Have you
thought about having more kids?" and "When's the next one coming?" And I
just told them that I have one more month before I can start trying.
The funny look on their faces begged me to explain that I was pregnant,
had a stillbirth, and my doctor asked me to wait 6 months before getting
pregnant again. I am so glad that I'm in such a state of acceptance
and peace, and glad that I can talk and explain about what happened
without the tears. I'm in a place of being able to remember, but not
needing to relive the emotions. Sometimes I elaborated and gave more
details and sometimes not, but they are kind of awkward questions to
answer. This experience is just one more way in which I can see that
stillbirths are very much not private matters. And that's okay.
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