My Mask

The glue holding my mask firmly in place has gotten stronger over the last 10+ months.  Early on, my mask had a shelf life of minutes.  I could only keep it on in spurts and it fell off easily if I hit a bump, the wind blew in the wrong direction or the flood gates opened.  But over time, the glue has strengthened.  It takes a strong gust or a significant bump to completely knock my mask off.  It is getting to be fairly water resistant.  The problem with my mask however, is that wearing it is still just as exhausting as ever. 

The mask hides what I feel on the inside from the world but it doesn’t take away the pain I still feel every day.    That’s the problem with the mask.  It doesn’t keep me shielded from the hurt.  My heart still aches and every day I am forced to continue my life without the best part of it.  No mask will ever help me forget what I am missing.  It may help others feel better, but it doesn’t bring me any peace.

I’ve been finding that I keep my mask on so tight through the week so that I can make it through work and my daily routine that I try to repress the pain.  At work, I work I force myself to push through and I force my thoughts to other places when they wander.  I get through most days at work fairly well.  But slowly as the week progresses, the pit in my stomach grows and grows.  Saturdays generally are full of busy tasks to get myself out of the house and keep my mind busy as well.  But as Saturday continues, the glue holding the mask on wears thin.  And by Sunday, my mask is all but off.  Sundays are the worse day for me.  The reality of another week gone catches up with me, guilt sets in and I generally lose it enough to make up for the entire week.

This weekend the guilt has hit me hard.  I’ve forced myself to be so focused at work and busy at home that in the last week I visited the cemetery only twice.  I feel like I am continually forcing my thoughts to anything but Avery so that I get through each day.  I feel like I don’t think of her enough.  I feel like my mask is keeping me from remembering her.  I feel like a bad mom. 

How do you find a happy medium?  When I didn’t wear my mask, I wasn’t able to work, I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t function at all.  But now, my mask allows me to function but the guilt is tearing me up on the inside.  How do I function but not feel guilty?  I wish there were a GPS to help me navigate this road I am being forced down.  I’m not doing so well on my own. 

Please explain how I'm supposed to "fake this, until I make it"

I've had one dream about Avery in the last 7 months and it was amazing. I pray every night that God would bring her to me in my dreams. So far that hasn't happened. Instead I have dreams, correction, nightmares about babies/children.

Each dream is different but the same. Last night for example, my husband and I were in the hospital after having twin girls. It seemed like it was going to be a happy dream but in an instant it shifts. It goes from happy to panicked. In every dream I have involving children this happens.

One minute things are fine and the next minute, I have to save them. Last night, one of the babies stopped breathing. Instantly, I tried to wake them up without success then I start CPR. Every ounce of me terrified for the outcome. In the dream last night just as I was able to start one breathing, the other would stop. Round and round we went until I finally woke up shaking and sweating.

Last night it was twins, it's been baby boys, toddlers, all shapes an size of children. But it's always the same-I must try to save them. And it always ends before I know the outcome.

Thank you SIDS for doing this to me. For making me feel like this. I couldn't save Avery that morning no matter how hard I tried. As soon as I woke up and noticed she hadn't changed positions since I checked on her barely an hour earlier my heart sank. I knew something was wrong. My husband ran to her bassinet, picked her up while I screamed for him to give her to me. I tried to wake her. She wouldn't respond. He called 911 while I checked to make sure she didn't have anything in her mouth and immediately started CPR. I was trembling but calm all at the same time. I was so focused on what I was doing, I didn't have time to fall apart. I needed to save her and I tried, I tried so hard. It was only a few minutes until the ambulance arrived but I hadn't made a difference. She still wasn't breathing. An hour later at te hospital we were given the awful news.

As much as I try to push that morning into the back of my mind, it will always be there. Waiting until my guard is down to attack me in my dreams.

As much as I know we did nothing wrong as parents. I still feel guilty. As much as I know I took every precaution they have for reducing the risk of SIDS, I still feel like I could have done more.

As much as I know barely an hour before she was sleeping safely next to me, I still doubt myself for falling asleep. I blame myself for being tired at 5 in the morning.

As much as I know I did everything I could to try to bring her back, I still can't escape the feeling that I let her down, that I failed at saving her.

My day is shot and its barely 9am. I cannot shake my dream or my feelings of failure and guilt.

For that therapist on Ricki Lake, I'd like to see you try to "fake this until you make it." I cannot fake through this until I make it. This will FOREVER be my life. She will FOREVER be my daughter who passed away for no reason. And I will FOREVER have to live with the memories of that day.

This is my life now and there is no faking it until I feel better. Yes, these feelings are awful but I would rather feel what I feel than to pretend I feel fine. While all I want to do today is curl up in bed (and to be honest, I just might do that), feeling this way reminds me how much I love my daughter and reminds me that no matter how much time passes, she will always be a part of me. Good or bad emotions, they are still rooted from my absolute, unconditional love for her. Faking it would disgracing to her, to her memory and to her life.

God's perfect timing

It’s bittersweet; her headstone is finally placed at her graveside.  It’s is beautiful.  We are very blessed to have known the man who created the stone for her.  He did an amazing job.  The stone stands out, just like she would have.  It adds even more beauty to the part of the cemetery in which she is buried.  I am so thankful that the stone is finally there; marking her resting place for the entire world to see.  For the last 3 plus months, her place has been marked by a plant and a few pretty pin wheels that someone placed there for her.  I am glad to see that her space finally looks official.  But I also know this is one of the last few things I get to do for my daughter.  I should have a lifetime of buying her things but instead I am purchasing a piece of granite to mark the burial place for my 6 day old daughter. 

The timing of the headstone being placed is perfect.  For the past several weeks I have been anxiously awaiting her headstone and her autopsy results.  As always, God’s timing on placing her headstone was perfect.  I received a call from the Medical Examiner’s office today.  They were calling to let me know all the results from the tests they conducted were back and as soon as the Examiner reviewed everything and finalized the report they could release the results to us.  They were at least able to tell me the results indicate an actual cause, that it would not be ruled as SIDS.  Receiving this news put me in a tailspin. 

Surviving vs Living

I survived another month.  Yesterday wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and I woke up this morning to a new day.  Maybe it was because I kept myself busy, that I kept myself from dwelling on the many emotions I was feeling, maybe I just blocked it all. Whatever the reason, I survived.

But today, I am down, really down.  I feel exhausted even though I slept for 9 hours last night.   Without my baby girl, I feel broken; I don’t feel whole or even relatively like any part of the old me.  I find myself just going through the motions of life in survival mode and yesterday made me realize this.  I am not actually living like but rather just getting through it. 

When Avery passed, I felt a need to live.  I realized how short life is and I didn’t want life to pass me by.  I told myself and my husband that we weren’t going to let excuses hold us back from things.  We were going to travel, do more things together, try different things, etc.  I am sorry to say that in the past 3 months, I haven’t lived at all. 

Anxiety

I went back to work August 13^th, the day after we marked her 2^nd month in Heaven.  I had been out on leave since June 4^th just 2 days before she was born.  It’s now going on the end of the 3^rd week since I’ve gone back and I still haven’t made it through a full week without calling in “sad.” 

Some days, I think I am doing well.  Yesterday, I was in the office a full day.  I dealt with the normal employee issues that come along with being an HR Manager.  It was overwhelming at times and I wanted to give up but I pushed through.  I got home from work and we ran errands.  It was one of the more productive days I have had in the past 3 months.  But it all hit me last night as I was trying to go to bed.

I spent most of the day not allowing the grief to overtake me but I cannot fight it all day.  Last night was hard; I missed her-missed everything about her, I felt empty and the house was too quiet without my baby cooing beside me and waking me up to feed.  I felt like I hadn’t spent the day yesterday remembering her on her 12 week birthday, remembering her the way I should have.  I felt like I neglected her.  I felt it all last night; depression, anger, guilt, hurt, etc.  It was a rough night, I couldn’t sleep and when I dreamt dreams of babies and children, dreams where I long for her but she isn’t in these dreams. 

Fear of the Unknown

Most days I try not to focus on why my daughter is not here with us, why she left us so early.  She was healthy for 9 months of pregnancy and released from the hospital after the normal 2 day stay.  6 days after birth she was gone.  No obvious warnings, nothing or was there?

Did I miss a fever?  She never felt too warm, too cold.  She never got sweaty or seemed cold.

Was her slight bit of fussiness that night a warning sign?  I had trouble burping her during a big feeding that night so I wrote it off as gas.  She seemed to feel better once she burped a few times and went to the bathroom. 

Did she sleep too much?   I thought I was lucky that she slept well and was told by Dr. Google and my parent friends that babies like to sleep.  It wasn’t like she slept 24/7.  She was up at least every 4 hours to feed and would get active when we changed her.

Was she having problems feeding?  I wrote off occasional latching issues as us getting adjusted to breastfeeding.  I also consulted the lactation consultant, Dr. Google, the What to Expect 1^st year book and other moms who told me that if she fed every few hours and had at least 6-8 diaper changes a day, she was doing fine and she was, I kept record of every feeding-the length, the start time, which breast, etc., and record of how many diapers I changed and whether they were just wet or dirty too.  Once she was latched, she was good to go.

My mind likes to play tricks on me and tell me I missed something.  My mind likes to place the blame on me.  Obviously a healthy baby just doesn’t stop breathing for no reason.  I had to have missed something, my mind tells me over and over until I am full of guilt and anxiety.  This paralyzes me; I sob uncontrollably, my chest tightens, my breaths become short and I am at a point of no return.  I let it overpower me until I am physically and mentally exhausted and slowly I just become numb.