Wednesday, September 16, 2015
It has been 12 days and 19 minutes since I gave birth to Nelle. She was born at 6:22 p.m. on September 4th and she had already left this world.
I started seeing a therapist the week immediately following. The first session, Ger and I went together. Today, she wanted to see me alone. She gave me a small journal and told me to write down three things I am grateful for each day. The journal’s pages were too small. This one is bigger wand was in the box of mementos from the hospital in honor of my baby girl, so it is significant. Here goes…
1. I am grateful for the small ring I ordered. It has a heart stamped on one side and NELLE stamped on the inside.
2. I am grateful for my boss at work. She has been incredibly supportive.
3. I am grateful for the people who continue to reach out to me. I get a message or something almost every day and they are comforting. Today, it was a private Facebook message and a card in the mail.
Thursday, February 11th, 2016
I haven’t written lately. I’ve been afraid to. As the date of my ultrasound approaches, I have become increasingly terrified. I am scared when I go to bed at night that the way I sleep will hurt the baby, crazy things like that.
I am afraid to write because I am afraid of looking back on what I’ve written later. Each day is a bit worse as I become more and more paralyzed by fear.
Three weeks until my ultrasound and I am terrified that I will not have a different result than with my pregnancy with Nelle. My therapist told me to tell myself “stop”: stop having those negative thoughts, but I told her that I can’t, because I don’t fully believe it. She told me to use the words “I can survive” but I don’t know about that either. How much can one person survive? I fear breaking in half if something happens again.
Tomorrow is my monthly prenatal appointment with Dr. Martin and I have a mixture of anticipation and fear.
Every day now I look at my shape and wonder if I am big enough. If she is growing enough. I cry constantly in fear.
Sunday, February 14th, 2016
Email to my therapist:
Would you have any appointments either Monday afternoon or anytime on Tuesday this week? We lost the baby. If I’m able to get in sooner than my regular Wednesday appointment, I’d like to do that.
Monday, February 15th, 2016
I saw my therapist. I nearly had an anxiety attack at the idea of needing to retell and relive story, but I planned ahead. I asked her if I could read my blog post to get the story “out there” and then we could talk after. That way, I already had the words. She told me that I could scream in her office. As I left, she gave me the tightest hug while I sobbed into her shoulder, and said “I’m so sorry, hun. This is not what I wanted for you.”
Wednesday, February 17th, 2016
I guess I will have to answer my own question of “how much can one person survive.” The day after I last wrote, on February 12th, we found out that Iris was gone.
I have been flung into a combination of overwhelming grief and numb. I feel so alone. If there was only a small group of people who could relate to me before, not it is an even smaller subset of people. I feel so alone and isolated. I feel like people are not reaching out to me, probably because they don’t know what to say.
Been to therapy twice this week, and going again on Friday.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
I am paralyzed by fear. I feel like I am under a constant attack of anxiety. As I look to the future, I wonder. And I’m scared.
There is a combination of writing and talking. There is my blog. There is my journal. There is therapy. There is some lengthier, private writing that I do on the computer. There is texting with friends. There are emails. There are conversations over wine or coffee. All mediums of coping, all with a purpose. All therapeutic.