Hormones

Well, I think it should go without saying that having something life-changing and utterly devastating happen to you when you are so pumped full of emotion-affecting hormones is about 18 million and seven times more difficult with which to deal.

Apparently, that's not the case. People feel the need all the time to tell me where I should be and how I should be feeling. Thank you. Feel free to write a book; I'm a big reader and maybe I'll give you a little more credibility when you can tell me you know just what this is like because you've lived this life too.

So I was glad yesterday when in counseling, my therapist confirmed that this is NOT a 'normal' (if there is one) grieving process for a dead child. I'm chock-full of hormones that drive women to desperate, desperate things during periods of post-partum depression, or the death of their child. Don't believe me? Check this post of Kristin's out. You'll need tissues as you feel for those poor, poor women. At least I did.

Anyway, I'm glad she finally honed in on this for John. Not because I think John doesn't get it, though in honesty, I don't see how any man can *really* understand what effect hormones have on one's body--heck, even I didn't get it until I became pregnant. Seriously. I have never been one of those women who had, um...well, moody times due to hormonal goings-on in my body. John will testify to that. Even pregnant, hormones were raging, and John often said he was so glad that I wasn't what he was expecting--crazy woman. (Yes, friends, he REALLY does say these things.) I was just incredibly weepy. Really, really weepy. But purely HAPPY crying...always, always, always shedding tears of joy. Even when I was miserably uncomfortable, I was just so happy to be where I was in my life.

But...my point--my point is that while many, many people are watching me and monitoring me to see how I'm dealing with all of this, (and I know this is all completely and totally done out of love and concern)--I do not think that the gravity of this whole grieving picture is being fully measured.

I started back on hormones/fertility drugs at the end of January. Less than two months after Matthew died. So...remembering that the hormones a woman's body produces to maintain pregnancy don't often leave completely for 2-4 months after the baby has been delivered, and then factoring in the artificial hormones I have been pumping through my body in MASSIVE quantities and well, I am just going to go ahead and give myself a big pat on the back for putting my feet on the floor every morning. Seriously.

Grieving the death one's child is in and of itself something that is simply unimaginable if you've never walked in the shoes. Trust me, you *THINK* you can imagine it--I looked at the pictures on the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep site a week before Matthew was born and just cried and cried, *imagining* how those women felt...but I promise--WHATEVER it is that you imagine, when it is your life and it is real, it is a billion times worse.

Top it off with simultaneously pushing yourself through the arduous process that is IVF, and honestly, I'm surprised I have not just tucked myself in my bed for the last 165 days and been done with it all.

So when my therapist FINALLY realized that I have been, in light of the fact that I have TWO very difficult, very different, yet very much related situations (exacerbated by hormones on top of hormones) that are my day-to-day reality, doing an AWFULLY GOOD JOB of coping with all of this...I felt very vindicated. She then went on to tell me that unfortunately, as I probably have not been able to effectively deal with some of the things that go with missing Matthew because of the drugs and emotions of the IVF process, I'm still going to have to. At some point. And this 'process' (hate that word) will be longer.

Well.

I know that.

That's not news to me.

Just wish more people knew that too.

Tomorrow is our blood test. I am not feeling very optimistic. I want to--I am hopeful. I haven't taken a home pregnancy test because I WANT to MAINTAIN hope.

I'm really having a hard time believing that I'll get a phone call telling me we're pregnant again. I hope I am wrong.

And on Sunday, we go to Georgetown for a memorial service to remember all the babies who died in the last year.

SO:

>>>>Dead baby son. Still. Always.
>>>>Negative pregnancy test. Again.
>>>>Memorial service for dead baby son and other dead babies.
>>>>Hormones like you read about.
>>>>John goes out of town on Monday.

Sounds like the perfect storm to me.

Rambles...

I should start this by reminding one and all who read it that I am pumping myself up with hefty doses of estrogen and progesterone, so the melancholy is even more magnified. (Amber, I asked John. He said magniscope is not a word. I think it was completely fine. There goes the vocabulary neighborhood, huh?)

See, the hormones make me ramble as well.

I failed to mention a few things about my birthday. My amazing mother-in-law, who I couldn't love more if she was my flesh and blood, made me strawberry cupcakes with rainbow chip icing, per my request. She also has been cleaning my house, cooking for me, and making me feel horribly guilty as I've just been sitting on the sofa for several days now.

I got a lovely bouquet of flowers on my front porch when I got home from church. A very full bunch of pretty white daisies, but more special to my heart were the two very special roses also included. One was red, one was yellow. My heart melted.

Today, I got another beautiful flower arrangement...a beautiful yellow bouquet of daisies. The card read, "....I know you love red, but I am thinking of Yellow Fish too."

You know, some people just don't get it. They *think* they do and try to tell you things that DO NOT MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER. ("Hope Yellow Fish makes it and is a boy because then you'll be SET!") Seriously?

Some people don't get it, KNOW they don't get it and just don't say anything at all. I am so thankful for their silence in lieu of the wrong words.

Some people don't get it, KNOW they don't get it and tell you as much...while they tell you they love you and wish it was better. That love and wishing is priceless.

And then there are some people who may not get *it* but TOTALLY get YOU. I am so, so blessed I have so many of those people in my life. Both bouquets of flowers made my days.

John sort of forgot about my birthday. Well, I guess he remembered, and more sort of forgot to do anything for it, in light of the fact that he has been trying to get his aircraft out to Minnesota since January. (Good thing he makes pretty babies and cooks well, huh?)

Today, I got a FEDEX package. To save the driver the aggravation of my zealous hounds, I went outside and met him. As I signed for it, I told him that it was my birthday gift from my husband. He said, "Oh, happy birthday!" I told him it was yesterday. He said, "Oh. Oops. Funny, because it was supposed to be for Tuesday delivery...I just got it to you early."

Did I mention my husband makes pretty babies and cooks well? Oh, yeah, I did.

Anyway, he sent me a watch. (Which should make anyone in our family, or good friends of ours who read this, laugh seeing as JOHN is the one who has love affairs with watches, but I digress...) My current watch doesn't fit so well as my wrist has changed in size since my pregnancy (along with my hip size, my shoulder size, my shoe size and my rib size) and so he replaced it. Very thoughtful.

What I love, though, (and what redeems his lack of memory) is his card. It's a small, very colorful card with lots of little kids on the front. Inside it says, "The whole world is smiling." His words are what gets him out of hot water: "The more I look at greeting cards, the harder it is to find one that says the right thing. At least this card benefits children. (It benefits UNICEF, so we'll have to have a discussion on that later, but anyway....) Also, sometimes, when I feel very alone, especially now that I am away from home, but when I see how many people around the world care about you and me because of our story and your amazing ability to communicate, I feel like the whole world is crying, praying, hoping, feeling and yes, even smiling with us...." There's a bit more, but that's my favorite part.

So please, if you think of me or Matthew, lift John up as well. He misses his baby boy, he is away from home (without the pleasure of his lovely 3-ring dog circus) and it really, really means something to him (and me too) when we are lifted.

As for the disclaimer at the beginning? I cried throughout the entire writing of this. I miss that little boy of mine.

35 weeks...AKA I-want-to-eat-it, I-don't-care-if-it's-healthy-or-not, I'm-going-to-eat-it, so-BACK-OFF!

Now, before the title of this post makes one wonder what I am talking about, it's not as life-shattering as some may make it to be. Those who would make it to be a big deal can just stop reading now.

I'm talking about junk. And better yet, my patience with eating well wearing thin in favor of all the candies and junk throwing themselves shamelessly at me on a regular basis. In my car now, at any given time, are the following: Sour Jelly Belly jelly beans, ginormous boxes of rainbow flavored Nerds, Razzles, Necco candy wafers, Tic-Tacs of various flavors, chocolate covered raisins, A Handful of Everything trail mix, Sour Gummi worms and Fiber One bars. (See, even with all that junk, still watching my fiber intake!) Today, I had some of all of the above. Although I need to replace the Neccos and Jelly Bellies.

I realize that I do NOT need these things and I am not adding healthy weight to me or Matthew. I have now decided I do not care if I need them or not. I am not sleeping, can rarely find a comfortable position to sit/stand/live in, have ankles, hands and arms that are so swollen one would think I've spent the last two weeks being stung mercilessly over and over by killer bees, am sore morning, noon and night, and am tired of my toilet looking at me and saying, "You, again? Seriously?" every 10 minutes...which is about how frequently Matthew dances around in there and tricks me into thinking I need to go to the bathroom. Again. So I am indulging in some candy. You wanna make something of it?

So, now that *that's* out of the way....today was my 35 week appointment. Honestly, I don't even know why I go. I love, love, love the doctors I see and feel like they are highly competent. They just aren't very proactive, which is probably a good thing but SO not how I operate. For instance, when asking, "How are we going to know if his head is going to fit...you know, down there?" the reply was, "We won't until you go into labor and we see what you do." SO much for all this reading I've come across about doctors having the baby's head measurements and deciding whether or not the mom's pelvic measurements will match. My doctors say, "Eh...we'll see and deal with it then."

Or...in response to "My last specialist appointment is next Monday. After that, how are we going to keep track of his position so we know if we're going to have to do a C-section?" I hear, "Frankly, it doesn't matter until you go into labor, so when you go into labor, we'll check." Now, this DOES make sense to me, and I'm ok with that answer because I know babies turn the day they make their debuts...but it was just so..."Eh...we'll see and deal with it then."

Of course, he also went on to say, "We do this all the time. Every day. You have great questions, but don't worry." I understand that this is probably comforting to about 95% of pregnant women out there because he is VERY right...they DO deliver babies, all the time....every day. They are probably one of the most respected OB-GYN practices in the area. The thing is....I don't want to go into labor, spend an uncomfortable amount of time there, and then have people come to the realization that it's not going to work and I'll need a C-section ANYWAY. Talk about torture. So we came to the agreement that I wouldn't worry, I'd cross bridges as they come, and he was ok with me making sure that I would, under no circumstances, suffer through any labor I didn't have to if I was going to have to be C-section anyway. I can live with that.

As long as it's with some Sour Gummi worms.

Thank you, Lord...

As I drove to church this morning, that same nearly-crippling fear that I tend to be having these days just overcame me. Will John be safe? Will the baby be safe? Is he okay? Will we be here a few more years? If we aren't, what will we do about the houses? Will Dixie be okay? What will I do as my poor Matthew grows up in an increasingly God-less world? What would happen to us if something happened to John? Is healthcare reform going to make already bad healthcare even worse? What are those crazy North Koreans going to do? When and where will the next act of terrorism be? And so forth...I'm talking just overwhelming, heat-flash inducing panic and fear and anxiety...anxiety and I are certainly well past the "getting-to-know you" stage, and probably have been since birth. I've been really trying very hard, though, to just not worry and not stress because I want no extra stress for Matthew. How does one literally turn her brain off, though, and just stop thinking? Because really, sometimes it seems all I think about is anxiety producing.

So...in Sunday School, not even 15 minutes after my hot flash, what do I read? Phillipians 4:6 -- Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

Can it get any clearer? Right before? Phillipians 4:4 -- Rejoice in the Lord always. I say it again: Rejoice!

I always joke that I'd love for God to just write me a note here and there and let me know what He wants me to know. Yep...He's that good and I feel great.

I know I wrote that having a human being move around inside was weird and I still stand by that. I want to add though that it is absolutely amazing also. Matthew has been hiccupping and it's just unbelievable that I have been given such a gift and am able to experience it. I often say that pregnancy is just a means to an end for John and me to be parents...and it is. But I don't ever want to forget what an amazing and miraculous means to an end it is. Just thinking that there's a little human inside who is floating around and dependent upon me is a feeling that I never thought I would have, but more than that, such an awe-inspiring one. I am so humbly and truly thankful to God that I was given this miracle of life I don't even know how to put it into words.

While this mush and gush *may* be hormonally inspired, it is nevertheless true...I do not know what I've done to deserve the sweet baby boy I am carrying, but I'm so thankful for him.