after i wrote out that whole post, after i wrote about the things that are bringing me peace and enjoyment, i got angry. i became angry and hostile about the nerve of all those things, those plans, written down. i became confused about how to handle being in the moment and still thinking- musing- about what could possibly, maybe, come to pass.
after i wrote it all down, after i experienced excitement and happiness about those things, i crammed my face full of shit foods. obviously i had some kind of emotional issue with some or all of what i wrote. what? i'm not really sure. maybe it's the fear of being free. maybe it's the fear of being let down after a cushy pink-cloud honeymoon period of feeling free. maybe it's the fear of the true work of being free, the work of constantly breaking the chains i impose on my own self. it's all those things and a million more, but i can pretty confidently think that the bottom line is fear.
not only do i need to accept the things that i enjoy thinking about, but i need to accept that i am scared. i don't even think i need to know what i'm scared of, that's probably irrelevant. if i accept it, i think each item of fear will reveal itself over time and space.
you know, i've never accepted that i was afraid of anything. i never thought i was scared. i never thought i was needy or lonely or rejected...but i am all those things.
a charmed life. that's what i thought i had, what everyone thought i had. it was the dead baby that shattered that charmed image for everyone else. i now know in my heart that *a charmed life* is a prison. my dead baby, my dead daughter, her existence, the pain that is in me, is chipping away at the walls and letting some air and light and fire and earth and LIFE in.
it feels funny and creepy sometimes to think this way. it sounds all new-age bullshit. it sounds ridiculous and...why am i so at odds with myself? maybe this is some of the fear seeping in. maybe the hard-ass practical no-bullshit way is all built out of the fear i never accepted. i am rebelling inside. i am scared of giving up the walls, the prison. i was forced to face all this shit when my baby died and there's no turning back now...IF...i really want to live.
i think i really want to live. i think it's a choice that i have to make every moment. i think all these thoughts and feelings are of me, but are not me. i can't control it, but i can choose not to hold on. i can choose to stay open for the moment, for each new thing.
i have an apology in my heart for myself. i accept.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
attraversiamo
thirty-five.
35.
trentacinque.
it feels like a big one, to a girl who cares not about birthdays. thirty-five times two is seventy and then i guess after that...bonus years. in high school, i always thought that my forties would be the best years of my life. i thought i would reproduce in my twenties and be kinda free and settled by then, in a life and family and career. getting older never upset me.
coming up on paige's two years, i'm feeling...ok. i don't know how that can be possible, but it is. is it one of those things, though, where two years is "ok" and then you just go to utter shit yet again? that was cute at the dreaded four months mark, but at two years out, no one wants to hear about that shit anymore. but we all know that, don't we.
attraversiamo, crossing over. crossing over into 35+, into two years+. crossing over into the rest of my life, although every single day, every single minute, is the same thing, no? maybe it just feels good to have it feel like something bigger than that (WARNING to SELF! GRANDIOSITY SLIPS INTO SABOTAGE!!). well, anyway, whatever.
i read "eat, pray, love" within a few months of losing paige. i really liked it then. i just finished it again, and so much was lost into the miserable abyss during the first reading. it's a great and wonderful book, and seeing as it is a very open and emotional time for me, i've been inspired.
my life has taken a very different turn since the beginning of this year. it started with ivfs, and here, midway through 2009, i write check after check for (nothing? freedom from what-ifs?) failed ivf treatments with an IUD in place. my life is very different than it could have been this year.
crossing over. i'm crossing over to my other path, the one without another baby. that is sad for me, yet, this is my life. it is sad yet not sad, because another baby would have never been paige and really, if i'm honest, i wanted a do-over. it's not sad because it forces me to accept my dead baby without a buffer. if i can't do it over, i have to live, totally, with what is. it's all sad, but i'm learning. it's not sad, because i'm learning. it's also not sad because i have a new and mysterious path to walk.
i recently learned that i'm eligible for dual citizenship (italy). i tried a few years back, but didn't know the right answers, being estranged from my father. since reuniting with my father's side of the family (dead baby->therapy->reunion), i learned that i AM eligible. i am going to get my italian citizenship. i got rosetta stone and i'm learning italian. (this is all so incredibly SAPPY, and as we say in jersey, GAYYYY, having just re-read EPL...just so you know, it doesn't escape me...but fuck it...just a coincidence. HA!) the idea of it thrills me, and so, i will have thrills on my new path.
i made a reading list, and in my possession is 'radical acceptance: accepting your life with the heart of a buddha.' i need to accept. i need to learn ways to help me accept, and not just my dead baby. i need to accept every minute of every day, good and bad and indifferent, for what it is- nothing more or less. next september all my children leave for kindergarten and i'll be fucking damned if i spend this next year all tangled up in emotional bullshit. the idea of acceptance fills me with peace, and considering all there is to accept, i'll take peace where i can get it. i am a seeker on this new path.
since the IUD placement in march, i've kinda easily dropped 35lbs. it's amazing to me how much of that feels like an emotional release, not a physical one. letting go of the idea of another pregnancy made it almost easy. i have to be honest and say the whole thing- pregnancy? not? another baby? treatments?- made me quite depressed. when i was released from the 'trying,' i lost weight. i physically and emotionally feel so much better. i've learned alot about how i use food and the effect it has on my body and psyche. i intellectually know about health and nutrition but that means nothing when it comes to using food to cope. i've been dealing with it for decades. day by day, i'm gonna try to stay in touch and not cram food down my throat in an effort to make *it* all go away. i'm gonna try to use what i learn through my seeking (i dread to say 'spirituality') to fill the black hole in there. i don't want to suffer with diabetes (which, HELLO! two pregnancies of gestational diabetes, one of which was uncontrolled!?). i need strength and health to walk this here new path. i need to have clarity of mind and body to recognize the way when i feel it.
next year, when i am suddenly left alone (yay?), i will start nursing school. after paige was born, in the hospital bed like a huge rotten sack of potatoes, i had a brick wall smash into my brain that left an indent that read, "BE AN L&D NURSE, YOU IDIOT!" after graduate school (public health) i had triplets and so, needless to say, didn't start a career at that time. i've been wondering for years what the HELL i was going to do when the kids went to school. who the FUCK would take a degree i earned in 2003 seriously without, you know, ACTUAL WORK EXPERIENCE? no one. lying in that hospital bed, i knew what to do. why, actually, had i never considered it? all the jobs in public health i'd ever seen listed that i was interested in wanted an RN. almost two years later, i know i must be a nurse. i may not work in L&D forever, but i know i need to do it for a while. i hope to work in a hospital with an antenatal unit, but around here (the country!) there's one ward for everyone and the L&D nurses do it all. so be it. i will do all the normal work and, sometimes, when the worst happens, i will be there for that, too. not because i can "help," but maybe just not being the only woman in the world with a dead baby will help her at that moment. in that hospital bed, we were all "the only one," weren't we? i see it now, scheduling OB/GYN surgeries. i saw it yesterday, when i told a woman with a dead baby in her belly that it happened to me. i see it every time...none of them want to be alone. i want to do something with my life that helps people. i want to be effective, i want to make a difference. i hope i can do that; i hope that, by the grace of this universe, i can do that on this new path.
in EPL, in bali, she says that babies' feet never touch the earth before they are six months old. if a baby dies before then, it is given a special cremation ceremony and not placed in a human cemetery because this being was never human, it was only ever a god.
i think this may be so. who else but a god can touch someone this deeply, open someone to a new way of being?
my very own personal jesus.
now it is up to me; reach out, touch faith.
::::
edited to add:
that sounded pretty good, huh?? i published this what, ten minutes ago, and it's making me sick. who the fuck am i to plan any of it? i am not good at emotions, i am good at action. problem is, there's only so much ACTION you can take RIGHT NOW, IN THIS VERY MOMENT. i guess i'm glad that i posted again, that i wrote all that out in words...but it just feels like bullshit on a certain level. what is that? maybe it's the contradiction of seeking a life "in the moment" and then planning out all that other crap, including how to live in the fucking moment.
maybe i should just accept that i like to think about doing things and then see what i can accomplish.
maybe i should get the hell out of my head.
35.
trentacinque.
it feels like a big one, to a girl who cares not about birthdays. thirty-five times two is seventy and then i guess after that...bonus years. in high school, i always thought that my forties would be the best years of my life. i thought i would reproduce in my twenties and be kinda free and settled by then, in a life and family and career. getting older never upset me.
coming up on paige's two years, i'm feeling...ok. i don't know how that can be possible, but it is. is it one of those things, though, where two years is "ok" and then you just go to utter shit yet again? that was cute at the dreaded four months mark, but at two years out, no one wants to hear about that shit anymore. but we all know that, don't we.
attraversiamo, crossing over. crossing over into 35+, into two years+. crossing over into the rest of my life, although every single day, every single minute, is the same thing, no? maybe it just feels good to have it feel like something bigger than that (WARNING to SELF! GRANDIOSITY SLIPS INTO SABOTAGE!!). well, anyway, whatever.
i read "eat, pray, love" within a few months of losing paige. i really liked it then. i just finished it again, and so much was lost into the miserable abyss during the first reading. it's a great and wonderful book, and seeing as it is a very open and emotional time for me, i've been inspired.
my life has taken a very different turn since the beginning of this year. it started with ivfs, and here, midway through 2009, i write check after check for (nothing? freedom from what-ifs?) failed ivf treatments with an IUD in place. my life is very different than it could have been this year.
crossing over. i'm crossing over to my other path, the one without another baby. that is sad for me, yet, this is my life. it is sad yet not sad, because another baby would have never been paige and really, if i'm honest, i wanted a do-over. it's not sad because it forces me to accept my dead baby without a buffer. if i can't do it over, i have to live, totally, with what is. it's all sad, but i'm learning. it's not sad, because i'm learning. it's also not sad because i have a new and mysterious path to walk.
i recently learned that i'm eligible for dual citizenship (italy). i tried a few years back, but didn't know the right answers, being estranged from my father. since reuniting with my father's side of the family (dead baby->therapy->reunion), i learned that i AM eligible. i am going to get my italian citizenship. i got rosetta stone and i'm learning italian. (this is all so incredibly SAPPY, and as we say in jersey, GAYYYY, having just re-read EPL...just so you know, it doesn't escape me...but fuck it...just a coincidence. HA!) the idea of it thrills me, and so, i will have thrills on my new path.
i made a reading list, and in my possession is 'radical acceptance: accepting your life with the heart of a buddha.' i need to accept. i need to learn ways to help me accept, and not just my dead baby. i need to accept every minute of every day, good and bad and indifferent, for what it is- nothing more or less. next september all my children leave for kindergarten and i'll be fucking damned if i spend this next year all tangled up in emotional bullshit. the idea of acceptance fills me with peace, and considering all there is to accept, i'll take peace where i can get it. i am a seeker on this new path.
since the IUD placement in march, i've kinda easily dropped 35lbs. it's amazing to me how much of that feels like an emotional release, not a physical one. letting go of the idea of another pregnancy made it almost easy. i have to be honest and say the whole thing- pregnancy? not? another baby? treatments?- made me quite depressed. when i was released from the 'trying,' i lost weight. i physically and emotionally feel so much better. i've learned alot about how i use food and the effect it has on my body and psyche. i intellectually know about health and nutrition but that means nothing when it comes to using food to cope. i've been dealing with it for decades. day by day, i'm gonna try to stay in touch and not cram food down my throat in an effort to make *it* all go away. i'm gonna try to use what i learn through my seeking (i dread to say 'spirituality') to fill the black hole in there. i don't want to suffer with diabetes (which, HELLO! two pregnancies of gestational diabetes, one of which was uncontrolled!?). i need strength and health to walk this here new path. i need to have clarity of mind and body to recognize the way when i feel it.
next year, when i am suddenly left alone (yay?), i will start nursing school. after paige was born, in the hospital bed like a huge rotten sack of potatoes, i had a brick wall smash into my brain that left an indent that read, "BE AN L&D NURSE, YOU IDIOT!" after graduate school (public health) i had triplets and so, needless to say, didn't start a career at that time. i've been wondering for years what the HELL i was going to do when the kids went to school. who the FUCK would take a degree i earned in 2003 seriously without, you know, ACTUAL WORK EXPERIENCE? no one. lying in that hospital bed, i knew what to do. why, actually, had i never considered it? all the jobs in public health i'd ever seen listed that i was interested in wanted an RN. almost two years later, i know i must be a nurse. i may not work in L&D forever, but i know i need to do it for a while. i hope to work in a hospital with an antenatal unit, but around here (the country!) there's one ward for everyone and the L&D nurses do it all. so be it. i will do all the normal work and, sometimes, when the worst happens, i will be there for that, too. not because i can "help," but maybe just not being the only woman in the world with a dead baby will help her at that moment. in that hospital bed, we were all "the only one," weren't we? i see it now, scheduling OB/GYN surgeries. i saw it yesterday, when i told a woman with a dead baby in her belly that it happened to me. i see it every time...none of them want to be alone. i want to do something with my life that helps people. i want to be effective, i want to make a difference. i hope i can do that; i hope that, by the grace of this universe, i can do that on this new path.
in EPL, in bali, she says that babies' feet never touch the earth before they are six months old. if a baby dies before then, it is given a special cremation ceremony and not placed in a human cemetery because this being was never human, it was only ever a god.
i think this may be so. who else but a god can touch someone this deeply, open someone to a new way of being?
my very own personal jesus.
now it is up to me; reach out, touch faith.
::::
edited to add:
that sounded pretty good, huh?? i published this what, ten minutes ago, and it's making me sick. who the fuck am i to plan any of it? i am not good at emotions, i am good at action. problem is, there's only so much ACTION you can take RIGHT NOW, IN THIS VERY MOMENT. i guess i'm glad that i posted again, that i wrote all that out in words...but it just feels like bullshit on a certain level. what is that? maybe it's the contradiction of seeking a life "in the moment" and then planning out all that other crap, including how to live in the fucking moment.
maybe i should just accept that i like to think about doing things and then see what i can accomplish.
maybe i should get the hell out of my head.
Monday, July 13, 2009
the thing
reece is ok, he just has rocks in his belly. he has to drink lots of water to keep his rocks wet or they will get too scratchy. his uncle brought him a THE THING comic to show him a rock-man superhero...
his urine calcium levels are very high, so he is likely to either have very small kidney stones or is developing them. apparently his grandfather also had kidney stones since he was a boy, so I AM ACTUALLY GETTING ANSWERS...and it's not that bad.
why does it feel so insanely strange for this to end up ok? i feel like this can signal a time to get past the fatalistic attitude, get back to *normal* life where everyone doesn't end up dead.
the truth is, neither are ok.
not everyone lives, not everyone dies. you can't know when or how or who. it will sometimes not make sense, so don't even bother with the analysis; sometimes knowing why and how will be worse than not knowing.
the truth is, there is no truth.
say 'truth' 15 times fast and you won't even recognize the word anymore; it sounds more like a dental procedure.
at this very moment i'm blogging about kidney stones and death and who knows what will come next today. i'll probably go outside and break up 97 fights over the swing-for-two on the swing set, but who knows.
who knows.
::::
looking through the pictures for one of reece, i noticed the drunken, elated one of marc with the girls that he dragged out of bed when the pens won lord stanley's cup (there's a 16x10 magnet on my fridge, lest i forget). am i happy or sad to then see her name on his arm?
Friday, July 3, 2009
all clear, yet not
the sonogram was clear. the urinalysis, also clear. there's a tiny little bit of skin, a tiny little flap, on the bottom of the pee-hole (so technical, huh?) that can be snipped. turbulent flow of urine can cause irritation, and also sometimes cause some bleeding.
are you kidding me??
can it really be that stupid and simple?
somehow, i seriously doubt it.
he's been peeing blood every week for about 6 weeks now. can it really be turbulent urine flow?! i'm putting that one on the back-burner (we have an appt to get the snip beginning of september). in the meantime, i'm taking him to a nephrologist (kidney specialist) next thursday. i'll bring the ultrasound films and urinalysis reports, but come on! what the fuck is he going to tell me, besides GET THIS OR THAT OTHER TEST. i mentioned a biopsy to the urologist and she looked at me like i was bat-shit crazy, so...i just don't know.
i
just
don't
know.
are you kidding me??
can it really be that stupid and simple?
somehow, i seriously doubt it.
he's been peeing blood every week for about 6 weeks now. can it really be turbulent urine flow?! i'm putting that one on the back-burner (we have an appt to get the snip beginning of september). in the meantime, i'm taking him to a nephrologist (kidney specialist) next thursday. i'll bring the ultrasound films and urinalysis reports, but come on! what the fuck is he going to tell me, besides GET THIS OR THAT OTHER TEST. i mentioned a biopsy to the urologist and she looked at me like i was bat-shit crazy, so...i just don't know.
i
just
don't
know.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
red smoke, updated
reece has no infection, according to the urine culture. i had to call the ER multiple times to get the result, but i suspected no abnormalities; they don't call you when tests are normal. this is NOT the result i wished for.
i've been avoiding dr. google (and the computer in general) since i saw blood, and i mean SOLID RED BLOOD, streaming from my son's...you know...weenie. i'd been suspecting it for a week or two before that; i think i thought i saw something maybe possibly in the toilet after i think reece went. then i forgot about it. then two fridays ago i saw it with my own eyes. i collected his next sample in a white mug and went to the ER. it was a good thing, as silly as i felt with a plastic-wrapped blood filled steaming mug of piss, because of COURSE, his clean-catch was yellow.
i made an appointment with the ped urologist, and we need an ultrasound. i taped up a sheet of paper and pen above the toilet so i can document every occurance of red pee, or, as reece puts it,
"MOM! my red smoke is coming out of my peen again!"
red smoke. i've asked him if it burns, hurts, tickles...i've pressed his back and belly and asked if it hurt. NOTHING. he's peeing a lot, i've noticed, but i suspect that is more out of curiosity than urgency. he wants to see the red smoke. it's fun for him; it's like a game.
IT'S NOT FUN FOR ME.
i don't want to know what else it could be, but i already kinda do. the infection would have been great. with this many obvious occurances of bloody urine, i think we are going to have to get a renal biopsy.
this could really, really turn out badly...and there's nothing i can do about it.
::::
the first appointment they gave me was july 20th. i called back yesterday and got an appointment for TOMORROW, friday. it's with a different doctor in the practice, but how much can i care about that? he's going for his ultrasound today and he'll see the urologist tomorrow. thanks for the kick in the ass.
i've been avoiding dr. google (and the computer in general) since i saw blood, and i mean SOLID RED BLOOD, streaming from my son's...you know...weenie. i'd been suspecting it for a week or two before that; i think i thought i saw something maybe possibly in the toilet after i think reece went. then i forgot about it. then two fridays ago i saw it with my own eyes. i collected his next sample in a white mug and went to the ER. it was a good thing, as silly as i felt with a plastic-wrapped blood filled steaming mug of piss, because of COURSE, his clean-catch was yellow.
i made an appointment with the ped urologist, and we need an ultrasound. i taped up a sheet of paper and pen above the toilet so i can document every occurance of red pee, or, as reece puts it,
"MOM! my red smoke is coming out of my peen again!"
red smoke. i've asked him if it burns, hurts, tickles...i've pressed his back and belly and asked if it hurt. NOTHING. he's peeing a lot, i've noticed, but i suspect that is more out of curiosity than urgency. he wants to see the red smoke. it's fun for him; it's like a game.
IT'S NOT FUN FOR ME.
i don't want to know what else it could be, but i already kinda do. the infection would have been great. with this many obvious occurances of bloody urine, i think we are going to have to get a renal biopsy.
this could really, really turn out badly...and there's nothing i can do about it.
::::
the first appointment they gave me was july 20th. i called back yesterday and got an appointment for TOMORROW, friday. it's with a different doctor in the practice, but how much can i care about that? he's going for his ultrasound today and he'll see the urologist tomorrow. thanks for the kick in the ass.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
permission
reece peed blood yesterday. i collected some and took him straight to the emergency room, cause, you know, you never know. i've never been the rush-to-the-ER kinda girl, but since knowing babydeath, that's changed. shocker, right?
on the drive over, i started to feel funny. i'd made that drive (to the hospital and past it to many other places) but it felt different. suddenly i realized it would be my first time back in the ER since i went there to check on my non-moving baby the day before her due date.
when we walked in, i didn't remember the waiting room at all. did they take me from triage straight back into a curtained room right away? i can't remember.
they called us to the back, and lo! THE SAME ROOM. THE SAME FUCKING ROOM. room 7...not so lucky the first time. i was surprised to lose it. i've been really, really pretty good...i haven't cried in a long time. i looked at the tv and remembered watching survivorman, looked at the little bed and remembered laying there, uncomfortable. i remembered the l&d nurse coming in with the heavy-duty doppler and going over and over and over and over and over my huge belly looking for something...anything. i remember trying to hold on, i wouldn't let myself believe my baby was dead for a long, long while, probably the whole time in that curtained room. the more i remembered, the more the tears came- to the point i was scared that i wouldn't be able to stop when the doc came in.
i am really grateful for that cry.
the nurse came in, and when i looked at her face, i realized it was the same nurse. THE SAME FUCKING NURSE. she looked at me kindly and said, "i remember you."
she remembered me. she was part of it, one of the few. i go along daily, knowing that it happened to ME, that people don't dwell on someone who never really lived. we all know how it goes; we should be moving on, we should get over it, it's been a year and a half, we're talking about that again?? we also know that only people who never had a dead baby can actually believe that horseshit. that nurse, she wasn't scared to remember with me. i love her for that. she hugged me and let me cry and just, simply, let me remember too.
i'm really glad that i was able to go to that place. i've been thinking (worrying, a little) that i've buried paige and turned to denial. i've been thinking that maybe, underneath all of the getting-me-back action, i've been denying paige her place. how can you EVER be ok again after having a deadbaby if you don't just completely delete it from your life?
but...paige is there. she's always there. and that doesn't mean i can't live, too. i can let go of the alive her, and keep the dead her. and that's ok.
on the drive over, i started to feel funny. i'd made that drive (to the hospital and past it to many other places) but it felt different. suddenly i realized it would be my first time back in the ER since i went there to check on my non-moving baby the day before her due date.
when we walked in, i didn't remember the waiting room at all. did they take me from triage straight back into a curtained room right away? i can't remember.
they called us to the back, and lo! THE SAME ROOM. THE SAME FUCKING ROOM. room 7...not so lucky the first time. i was surprised to lose it. i've been really, really pretty good...i haven't cried in a long time. i looked at the tv and remembered watching survivorman, looked at the little bed and remembered laying there, uncomfortable. i remembered the l&d nurse coming in with the heavy-duty doppler and going over and over and over and over and over my huge belly looking for something...anything. i remember trying to hold on, i wouldn't let myself believe my baby was dead for a long, long while, probably the whole time in that curtained room. the more i remembered, the more the tears came- to the point i was scared that i wouldn't be able to stop when the doc came in.
i am really grateful for that cry.
the nurse came in, and when i looked at her face, i realized it was the same nurse. THE SAME FUCKING NURSE. she looked at me kindly and said, "i remember you."
she remembered me. she was part of it, one of the few. i go along daily, knowing that it happened to ME, that people don't dwell on someone who never really lived. we all know how it goes; we should be moving on, we should get over it, it's been a year and a half, we're talking about that again?? we also know that only people who never had a dead baby can actually believe that horseshit. that nurse, she wasn't scared to remember with me. i love her for that. she hugged me and let me cry and just, simply, let me remember too.
i'm really glad that i was able to go to that place. i've been thinking (worrying, a little) that i've buried paige and turned to denial. i've been thinking that maybe, underneath all of the getting-me-back action, i've been denying paige her place. how can you EVER be ok again after having a deadbaby if you don't just completely delete it from your life?
but...paige is there. she's always there. and that doesn't mean i can't live, too. i can let go of the alive her, and keep the dead her. and that's ok.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
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