Today Keller's school had their Halloween parade. The kids dress up and then have a parade around the school. It's fun and sweet and everyone has a great time.
I was standing with some parents of kids in Keller's class. We were just talking about random stuff and all of a sudden I found myself telling the mom of one of Keller's friends my life story. The terrible pregnancy with Keller, the miscarriage, the turmoil we've been in. I hardly know this person. And I'm spilling my guts. She didn't mind, she made it very easy for me to just open up.
Why is that we can spill our guts to complete strangers? But yet we have trouble talking to the people we're closest to. I don't get it. I have to say how cathartic it was to talk to her this morning. I don't talk about what's been going on much anymore because it feels like everything thinks we should be over it. So it felt relieving to get some of it off my chest.
Things have been all right this past week. Last week was awful. But this week was all right. I have been really busy with work and home, so I guess the distraction has been good. There have been less days where I feel like I'm teetering on the edge.
Anyway, the next time you're feeling like you need to talk and get something off your chest, talk to someone who doesn't know you. There's no judgment, there's no history, there's nothing. It will make you feel better :)
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Nobody Knows
Sometimes it feels like we're living a double life. I guess we are, in a way. There's the life in front of other people and the life behind closed doors. We can be relatively normal in our everyday lives. We can do our jobs, have meaningful (or meaningless) conversations, etc. But we also go home and cry.
This Saturday marks the 3-month mark since we lost the baby. The thought of that makes me sick. On one hand, I feel like I should be better because it's been 3 months. And I guess we're better in the larger, abstract sense of the word. I don't cry every day anymore. But the feelings are just as intense. So, on the other hand, it's only been 3 months. Three months really isn't that long in the grand scheme of things. Three months is enough time to get to the point where I'm not crying everyday.
Sometimes being a sensitive person is really a character flaw. I have always had too-intense feelings. I take things to heart way too often. Sometimes it's great because I can feel intense joy and happiness, but I can also feel intense sadness. And I've never felt such sadness as I have these past 3 months. In the other times in my life where I've experienced loss, it's been sad. But nothing like this. Nothing.
So now it's time to bring myself back to life. Somehow. I have been underwater for the last 3 months and I have to get to the surface somehow. I am trying to get back to the things that have made me happy in the past. I have some races lined up that hopefully will spark my love of running again. It's hard to love anything when you feel dark inside. Hopefully training for something will shine a light. I'll take a flicker at this point.
I'm pretty scared of how the next few months will be. We were supposed to be welcoming a baby in those months and now that that isn't happening, I'm afraid of the sadness taking over. I'm trying to head it off by scheduling races to train for. Give myself something else to focus on. It works on some days and it doesn't on other days.
All we can do is our best. We can get out of bed in the morning and see what happens.
This Saturday marks the 3-month mark since we lost the baby. The thought of that makes me sick. On one hand, I feel like I should be better because it's been 3 months. And I guess we're better in the larger, abstract sense of the word. I don't cry every day anymore. But the feelings are just as intense. So, on the other hand, it's only been 3 months. Three months really isn't that long in the grand scheme of things. Three months is enough time to get to the point where I'm not crying everyday.
Sometimes being a sensitive person is really a character flaw. I have always had too-intense feelings. I take things to heart way too often. Sometimes it's great because I can feel intense joy and happiness, but I can also feel intense sadness. And I've never felt such sadness as I have these past 3 months. In the other times in my life where I've experienced loss, it's been sad. But nothing like this. Nothing.
So now it's time to bring myself back to life. Somehow. I have been underwater for the last 3 months and I have to get to the surface somehow. I am trying to get back to the things that have made me happy in the past. I have some races lined up that hopefully will spark my love of running again. It's hard to love anything when you feel dark inside. Hopefully training for something will shine a light. I'll take a flicker at this point.
I'm pretty scared of how the next few months will be. We were supposed to be welcoming a baby in those months and now that that isn't happening, I'm afraid of the sadness taking over. I'm trying to head it off by scheduling races to train for. Give myself something else to focus on. It works on some days and it doesn't on other days.
All we can do is our best. We can get out of bed in the morning and see what happens.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sun's Gonna Rise
Wow. I'm really touched at all the emails I've received from people reading my blog and connecting to our story in some way. Thank you for reaching out and thank you for being there.
This past weekend was pretty ugly. For a couple of weeks now I've been all right. I've been able to manage, even be social and not freak out. I've been able to be around my pregnant friends, my newborn-having-mom friends, whomever.
But I think I was trying too hard to be "normal" and prove to myself that I can handle things as they were before we lost the baby. Well, things are not like they were before we lost the baby and I am not like I was before I lost the baby. I was a fool to think I was normal and things were all right.
And, well, needless to say, this weekend was not an emotionally sound weekend for me. Saturday was manageable, but Sunday did not fair as well. I was cleaning up the kitchen and was going through a pile of papers. I save just about every receipt I ever receive for some reason. And I came across a receipt for all the pregnancy tests I bought when I first found out I was pregnant with the second baby. When I found out I was pregnant that Monday morning in April, I was in shock. Seriously, I really didn't believe it. So that day I went to CVS at lunch and bought 5 pregnancy tests to hold me over until I got the confirmation from the doctor. The pharmacist laughed at me and I felt like a dork, but it didn't matter. I practically ran back to work and took another test in the bathroom. And that one and the four others I bought were all positive.
And here we are.
Anyway, I just want to thank all of you who have reached out to me. It definitely means a lot. And while the sun continues to rise, and I am "carrying on" and getting through the days, I still need help and support from you. Keep those shoulders handy because I'll need to lean on them soon.
This past weekend was pretty ugly. For a couple of weeks now I've been all right. I've been able to manage, even be social and not freak out. I've been able to be around my pregnant friends, my newborn-having-mom friends, whomever.
But I think I was trying too hard to be "normal" and prove to myself that I can handle things as they were before we lost the baby. Well, things are not like they were before we lost the baby and I am not like I was before I lost the baby. I was a fool to think I was normal and things were all right.
And, well, needless to say, this weekend was not an emotionally sound weekend for me. Saturday was manageable, but Sunday did not fair as well. I was cleaning up the kitchen and was going through a pile of papers. I save just about every receipt I ever receive for some reason. And I came across a receipt for all the pregnancy tests I bought when I first found out I was pregnant with the second baby. When I found out I was pregnant that Monday morning in April, I was in shock. Seriously, I really didn't believe it. So that day I went to CVS at lunch and bought 5 pregnancy tests to hold me over until I got the confirmation from the doctor. The pharmacist laughed at me and I felt like a dork, but it didn't matter. I practically ran back to work and took another test in the bathroom. And that one and the four others I bought were all positive.
And here we are.
Anyway, I just want to thank all of you who have reached out to me. It definitely means a lot. And while the sun continues to rise, and I am "carrying on" and getting through the days, I still need help and support from you. Keep those shoulders handy because I'll need to lean on them soon.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Stand in the Rain
This week has been pretty tough for me. Nothing happened, there wasn't a moment that made it all come crashing down. It was just a bad week.
I don't really have a mechanism for getting through tough times anymore. This experience of losing our child has stripped me of that capability. Yes, I'm surviving and carrying on, but it's not the same as living. I don't really know how to be truly happy anymore, to feel the light inside, to want to see what the day brings.
In the past, I've turned to other people who have gone through heartache to hear their words, to try to understand that through their example, maybe I can get through my trouble too. I've turned to Molly Barker, Founder of Girls on the Run, to read her words and through her find some strength. So, this morning, I turn to her again and I've spent the majority of this morning reading her blog. Molly is truly an amazing person. She has been through so much in her life, and somehow has found the strength and courage to not only pull herself back up onto her feet, but start an amazing organization that helps girls (and women) do the same.
Girls on the Run started back up here 3 weeks ago. I'm lucky enough to be coaching over at Ronald McNair this season. We have an amazing group of 12 girls. They come to each session with excitement in their eyes. And through them, I feel excited. I feel alive when I'm with them. I know that I can be myself and not be afraid of judgment, because we're all in the same boat. We're all just doing our thing.
I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'm just typing words. I guess what I'm saying is that reading Molly's words and being a part of Girls on the Run is a wonderful way to get through tough times. It helps me feel a little stronger. I'm really looking forward to Tuesday morning, when we meet again.
I don't really have a mechanism for getting through tough times anymore. This experience of losing our child has stripped me of that capability. Yes, I'm surviving and carrying on, but it's not the same as living. I don't really know how to be truly happy anymore, to feel the light inside, to want to see what the day brings.
In the past, I've turned to other people who have gone through heartache to hear their words, to try to understand that through their example, maybe I can get through my trouble too. I've turned to Molly Barker, Founder of Girls on the Run, to read her words and through her find some strength. So, this morning, I turn to her again and I've spent the majority of this morning reading her blog. Molly is truly an amazing person. She has been through so much in her life, and somehow has found the strength and courage to not only pull herself back up onto her feet, but start an amazing organization that helps girls (and women) do the same.
Girls on the Run started back up here 3 weeks ago. I'm lucky enough to be coaching over at Ronald McNair this season. We have an amazing group of 12 girls. They come to each session with excitement in their eyes. And through them, I feel excited. I feel alive when I'm with them. I know that I can be myself and not be afraid of judgment, because we're all in the same boat. We're all just doing our thing.
I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'm just typing words. I guess what I'm saying is that reading Molly's words and being a part of Girls on the Run is a wonderful way to get through tough times. It helps me feel a little stronger. I'm really looking forward to Tuesday morning, when we meet again.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Speechless
So what do I write about now? Most people use their blogs as a way to "talk" about the things that cross their mind, both inane and meaningful. But I don't really have a lot crossing my mind other than just trying to get by. I have never really lived my life like that, just trying to get by. I've always had motivation, but now I don't really have much. When you are on course for a certain future and that future is suddenly taken from you, it's kind of hard to just move on. We're trying though.
It's really hard to talk about what we're going through with most people. Not because of the subject matter. It's easy for me to talk about it, it's a part of who I am. But talking to certain people is difficult because of how they react. Some people can actually listen and they get it but others are so incredibly uncomfortable. I was telling John this morning that it's those uncomfortable people that I want to talk to the most. They need to know that just because they want us to be "normal" because it makes them feel better doesn't mean that we actually are. Does that make sense? People that ignore what's going on with us make us feel insignificant. It makes us feel that our baby was somehow insignificant. Which he wasn't.
I guess if you're a regular reader of my blog you'll be pretty disappointed with my posts in the foreseeable future. I don't have a lot of amusing things happening in my life right now. Yes, there is still laughter and life. I mean, we have Keller to fill our days with laughter. But at the end of the day (and the beginning, middle, etc.) we feel like something is missing and that something will never be returned. Something was taken from us and while we only had it for a short time, that something will always be a part of us.
It's really hard to talk about what we're going through with most people. Not because of the subject matter. It's easy for me to talk about it, it's a part of who I am. But talking to certain people is difficult because of how they react. Some people can actually listen and they get it but others are so incredibly uncomfortable. I was telling John this morning that it's those uncomfortable people that I want to talk to the most. They need to know that just because they want us to be "normal" because it makes them feel better doesn't mean that we actually are. Does that make sense? People that ignore what's going on with us make us feel insignificant. It makes us feel that our baby was somehow insignificant. Which he wasn't.
I guess if you're a regular reader of my blog you'll be pretty disappointed with my posts in the foreseeable future. I don't have a lot of amusing things happening in my life right now. Yes, there is still laughter and life. I mean, we have Keller to fill our days with laughter. But at the end of the day (and the beginning, middle, etc.) we feel like something is missing and that something will never be returned. Something was taken from us and while we only had it for a short time, that something will always be a part of us.
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