The world just doesn't make sense...ever. Yesterday's local paper had an infant obituary, and so did today's paper. Why the hell are babies dying? All the time. Everywhere. It just doesn't make any sense at all. None. I read something somewhere on the internet shortly after Gracie's death that has apparently stuck in the back of my mind since. I cannot for the life of me remember where I read it or what the context of everything was, but what sticks in my mind is something to the effect of 'if every product of every conception was carried to term and resulted in healthy, live deliveries, the world would be incredibly crowded and out of control.' The logical part of my brain says 'yes, it would be a pretty crowded place'; the BLM part of my brain says that that thought process definitely did not originate from a BLM or BLD. The BLM part of my brain also says that there certainly must be a better way for mother nature to carry out her survival of the fittest game. There is just nothing natural about babies dying. Not a damn thing.
It has been a rough week for me. Although she has not part of every conscious thought, Gracie has seemed to have extra strong presence this week. Perhaps the rough week and Gracie's extra presence are why I have been here blogging so much this week. I don't know. What I do know is that last night I wanted to do two things. I wanted to climb to the top of the highest building around with megaphone in hand and just start screaming f-bombs as loud and for as long as I could; not at any specific person, just at the world in general...and I wanted to drink myself into complete oblivion. I did neither; instead I read for a little bit and went to bed early since the hubby is out of town. To be perfectly honest, I have wanted to drink myself into oblivion since the day we came home from the hospital without a baby and I have not. I have definitely had enough, on two occasions, to put me over the legal limit, but I was far from oblivion. Quite frankly, I think I am (well, was, since drinking hasn't been an option since January) too afraid to go there. Most nights I think I was too afraid to even have a drink.
Yesterday was a horrific day for me, which is why I wanted to do the aforementioned yelling and drinking. I had something that could be classed as a cross between a breakdown, a meltdown and an 'episode.' The acute part of this incident lasted for 80 minutes...80 minutes of hard and uncontrollable sobbing. The subacute part of this incident lasted for the remainder of the day and evening in the form of sore eyes, a runny nose, fatigue, a complete lack of desire to be around any other people, and slightly befuddled dogs. I am sure that Gracie's stronger than normal presence played a large role in this incident, but she was actually not actively on my mind when I fell apart, and honestly, she was not an overly active thought while I was sobbing. I was almost mindless while my tears did their own thing. I am sure that it was exacerbated by the lack of air conditioning while trying to work with preschoolers over a 5 hour period in yesterday's 100 degree weather, but that was certainly not the cause. It my have been exacerbated by some type of hormonal deal, but that certainly was not the cause. It may have been exacerbated by my increasing angst about Jellybean's arrival, but again, it was certainly not the cause. It may have been exacerbated by the fact that I am again overwhelmingly feeling like I have little to no control over anything in my life, but this was not the cause. It was definitely exacerbated when I came home and found that both dogs (in a period of only 6 hours) had pooped on the floor, one of them had peed in the house, and one of them had pulled a several pound bag of doggie chicken jerky off of the counter for both of them to devour (very likely leading to the pooping incidents), but again these were not causative factors. This incident, quite simply, was caused by the fact that I am mother to a dead baby...and all of the things that come with it. The entire incident started like a switch was flipped on. No warning, no active thoughts about Gracie and no obvious triggers.
Like many people here in our little corner of the world, I am okay, but I am obviously not fine. I have been on this ride long enough now, and I am very much ready to get off. I cried for a week after Gracie died. I cried so much that I had a headache for a week and was pretty dehydrated. I cried a little less in the second week, and in the third and fourth weeks, my crying tapered off to almost nothing. I can count on one hand, with left-over fingers, the number of substantial crying 'incidents' that I have had since September. I can go for months at a time and be 'fine'. And then, out of the blue one day I am completely not fine. It doesn't happen often, but I am so tired of falling down. So very tired.
Yesterday I was so 'not fine' that I missed a couple hours of appointments in the office until I could somewhat compose myself enough to see patients in the office. Everyone says that they 'understand' and blah, blah, blah....but when I have to cancel school services or patients in my office, all of that understanding and patience seems to go out the window. Everyone understands until it's their (or their kid's) service that is disrupted by my temporary inability to do my job. No one seems to consider that, out of necessity and dedication to my job, I took only two weeks off after Gracie's death, and that that was not nearly enough time. No one seems to understand that it's not the same as a parent dying. No one seems to understand that I am not creating these moments at will. They don't get that there is no telling how long these incidents will continue to creep up without warning...but everyone certainly seems to have the same underlying sense of annoyance when they do.
Anyone who reads here even somewhat regularly knows that I encounter my share of idiots during my daily travels. I suppose that's what I get for staying in central/rural PA. But there are a lot of normal people in my life, and I sometimes forget that...probably because even those people frustrate me sometimes. I know that they all mean well, but sometimes there just isn't a correct/right thing to say, no matter how much thought they put into their response. Sometimes I talk without really wanting a response...sometimes I just want to get it out and I want someone else to hear it. Sometimes I just want people to know what it is that lingers in my brain and my heart without them necessarily saying a word about it. BUT...those with half a brain usually feel compelled to respond with attempted rationalization. Rationalization of why I feel the way I do. Rationalization of why I should feel differently or have a different perspective. Rational suggestions about how to feel better or develop a different perspective. Sometimes what they obviously feel are rational thoughts about how they anticipate they would feel, act or react if they were in my shoes. SURPRISE, none of it makes me feel any better. I don't really expect them to say anything that makes me feel better, but it would be nice, if just once, someone said something sympathetic and realistic.
I don't know. I think that this week was my illustration of 'the higher you climb, the harder you fall.' I have been having so many more 'up' days than 'down' days that the down days probably seem to sting a bit more than they used to. I know that it will always hurt, but I am ready for it to hurt a little less. I am ready for the sting to disappear completely.
Wishing you all a peaceful weekend...