Sunday, October 16, 2011

Worst. Dream. Ever.

Last night I had the absolute worst dream I have ever had in my life. Ever.  It didn't even fall into the "horrid nightmares that occasionally return to creep me out to the point of not wanting to look in the closet or under the bed" category.  It was absolutely awful.  I woke up shouting and sobbing, and held on to hubby for half an hour in the middle of the night.  Then I only slept for 10-20 minutes at a time for the rest of the night because every time I fell completely asleep, one scene kept repeating itself and I just kept waking up trembling.  I have thought about it all morning, and hope that it just stays a dream and NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER TO INFINITY HAPPENS IN REAL LIFE.

Normally, my nightmares fall into 2 categories:  Critters I despise, and harm coming to those I love.  I've gotten to the point where dreams of me falling and breaking various limbs has turned into a "Stooge-esque" affair, where I just shake my head and think, "yeah, that's probably what's gonna happen one of these days."  But it doesn't SCARE me.  The recurring critter nightmare is one where I have the Midas touch, only everything turns into poisonous snakes or spiders.  And of course, the spider one is all the more disturbing because spiders do actively seek me out to bite.  After one of those nightmares, I find myself praying for kittycats and puppydogs, or sitting up and counting my blessings and then turning on the TV to watch a movie for about 15 minutes until I've cleansed my mind of the terrifying thoughts.  It always works for me.  The nightmares about those I love are a little harder, because they have that small element of truth to them.  I find myself praying for that person or people, and then telling my husband the dream.  He's really good at soothing me back to sleep, and he usually turns on the TV or radio to quiet my mind until I get calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

Last night, though, nothing worked.  In that weird way that dreams work, time was flexible, locations appeared that I have never seen before, and you find yourself doing things that seem impossible in the light of day.  The dream started off innocently enough.  I was in the hospital having a baby. I have those kind of dreams every now and then.  No biggie.  We bring him home to our house and life goes on as normal.  (And by normal, I mean that one second we're bringing him home and then the next second, we've been home for a month.)  I don't recognize the house at all, never been in it before in my life, but I don't think twice about the fact that it's my house.  (Everything sounds great, right?)  Anyway, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table eating a Sub.way Meatball Sub.  (Which I have never had in my life--What's up with that?)  I find myself getting ready to send them an e-mail on a pizza sub idea I had.  Then I sort of sigh and smile as I pick up my iced tea, and reflect upon the fact that hubby and I had been cozy the night before and that it might be possible that we could have two children within a year...(And right now is when my mind should have been red-flagging this as a total dream, due to my PCOS, but it didn't.  I am still not realizing that this is a dream.  It is all as real to me as this computer is.) that exact instant, I drop my iced tea glass to the floor and realize that I have not heard my son cry or make any noise whatsoever.  Furthermore, I can't remember when the last time was that I saw him.  It strikes me that it's been over 24 hours since I fed him, and that I don't know what's wrong...(I know now that this would not be possible, but once again, at 3:00 in the morning when I woke up, this was NOT an impossible situation).  I scream for my husband, and he rushes into the baby's room. By the time I get there, he's screaming and crying and trying CPR.  I see him holding our baby, and there's no movement, no sound, no nothing.  And because of my vast knowledge gleaned from all the crime shows I've seen, I know that our baby has been dead for at least 12 hours, and I never had checked on him in that time.  Who doesn't notice their baby is dead for 12 hours?  What kind of horrible person was I?  I just fell to the floor sobbing and screaming...

And then I woke up.  In my head I know that I will be a good mom when that day comes, but in my heart right now, I'm wondering if I would be a good mom.  It's just scared the bejeebers out of me.  I spent at least 30 minutes just sobbing and shaking, and apologizing to my husband for not being a good mom.  He just kept holding me and comforting me, and praying over me until I stopped shaking and the sobs had subsided.  I have seen that baby's face every time I close my eyes since then.  You would think that something so obviously NOT real wouldn't stick so strongly in my mental movie gallery, but that's all that's playing right now.  Ugh.

It's like satan is using my biggest fears against me.  Add to that the fact that my cousin lost her little boy last week, and I know kinda where this dream came from.  But my dream was sooo vivid, and so realistic...

Let me state what I know.  I know that I do not actually have a baby son.  I know that I do not live in that house.  I know that I don't eat that kind of food at Sub.way.  I know that I would not ever "forget" that I had a living baby.  I know that I would worry if I didn't hear my baby breathing over a monitor.  I know that I wouldn't "forget" to feed my baby. I know...that this was a nightmare, using things that I hope about and things that I fear, twisting them together until it becomes something that would never happen...I know these things, but like any good lie, there remains that niggling doubt in my head and heart. 

It's going to be hard to go to sleep tonight.  I need to watch something completely benign before going to bed, and then have something in the DVD player that is just funny to get my mind off of things so that I can go to sleep and NOT have this dream again. EVER.  I don't even want anyone to joke about it.  It bothers me greatly, and is still giving me the willies. 

I know that if you're still reading this, you've probably decided that I'm certifiable.  Right now, you're probably not far off the mark.  If there's any consolation, it's that I'm not normally like this.  You also probably didn't want to hear or read any of this, but I needed to kind of "write it out", in the hopes that it would keep it out of my head tonight.  Here's hoping for a better night tonight.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

Today is one of those days that few outside of the Infertility and Infant Loss Community ever hear about, but for those of us who have experienced such a loss, it is a day you don't forget, because it means that someone, somewhere in this world, is praying for you and your family.  It means that you are not alone in your grief, and that feeling is freeing, especially when it seems that so many people have forgotten that you had a child.  My heart also mourns with my sisters who also lost their pregnancies early on, when all you have is that one ultrasound picture, if any.  It is a day we stand together, arm in arm, hankies at the ready, as we remember our children, the dreams of our children, and the hopes we had for our children.  We remember that we are not alone; that no race, no age, no level of health, no socio-economic status is exempt from this tragedy.  We remember oh so deeply that life is a precious gift, not to be taken lightly, not to be discarded or trampled upon.  We REMEMBER. 

One of the ways we remember this day is to light a candle at 7:00 and keep it lit for an hour, creating a wave of light around the globe. While so many will not know why we light our candle, we know.  I have many friends across this country and beyond who will also light their candles tonight.  We pray that someday lighting a candle on this day will just be lighting a candle, but for us, for now, this is our memorial; our tribute to the lives that could have been.

This year it's hitting even harder than the past two.  This is my third year to light a candle for my Elizabeth.  It's actually her expected 2nd birthday.  I should be bustling around planning a party, but instead, we're spending a quiet evening at home--just the two of us (and the pets).  But as I sit tonight and remember my loss, I also pray for my cousin, who lost her 3-month old to SIDS last week.  He was born soo premature--just 3 pounds, but he had made it all the way to six pounds, and the doctor was so pleased with his development.  That was on Friday.  On Saturday, his mom took him to a family gathering with the cousins (I stayed home--I just knew I'd see them at Christmas, and I had a bad cold that I didn't want the babies to catch.).  Then on Sunday, while he was laying on the couch sleeping while his daddy was sitting in there with him, he just stopped breathing.  He couldn't be saved, even though everything was tried. 

I just don't understand it.  I understand that miscarriages happen.  I know (in my head at least) that there are all kinds of things that can cause death in utero.  I even know that infants die--how can I not know that, since I scream at the TV every time I hear about one of these precious ones being thrown away by their "mothers" or killed by "mom's boyfriend" who shakes him or her to death.  But it just boggles my mind that a family who fought so hard to bring a life in this world has to now lay to rest all of their hopes and dreams for his life.

So tonight as I light my candle, I'll light another one for my cousin, and remember to say a prayer for all of those who grieve as I grieve, who mourn as I mourn, in the hopes that one day we can rejoice with those who rejoice.  I light my candle to remember that innocence I had that has now been lost, and pray that not one more person has to lose that innocence through the loss of the life of their child.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Right Battle, Wrong Armour

Wow!  It's been one heck of a week, just like I thought it would be...anytime I try to get more serious about something, my week just explodes around me, as if daring me to make plans and try to stick to them.  So this post will be some randomness, some thoughtfulness, and a whole lot of just stuff I want to write down so I don't forget it.

***Remember, feel free to comment---I won't bite, and I might even find a way to bless you, too***

First things first---after spending over 45 days with either spotting or heavy bleeding, I can finally say for 100% certain that my cycle of doom is FINALLY over.  Where are the helium balloons, the streamers, the cake...?  Now I'm on to a new adventure of a cycle--and I have no idea of what day I'm on, simply because I was counting how long it took to stop bleeding, not when to chart as the new cycle.  Oh well, I'm just going to roll with it.

Secondly, I was surprised by something my mom did for me this weekend.  I went over to her house to help her with some computer stuff, and she handed me a box with HCG pills in it.  She watches Dr. Oz, and he had said that they're unsafe when you use them with that drastic diet plan, but that he often prescribed them for patients suffering with infertility.  So my mom wrote down all of that information, and got me a month's supply.  At this point, I don't think anything will hurt, so here I go for a month.  It was just weird, because just two weeks ago, she was chewing me out over worrying about what was going on with my body.  Massively chewing me out---as in "you should stop moping about this, the world doesn't revolve around you".  "You're making a mountain out of a molehill...if you just stop thinking about infertility your attitude will get better" kind of stuff.  She also included the "don't talk to you brother and sister about all of this stuff because they get worried about you and then I hear about it.  Some people just aren't supposed to have children and you need to get used to that idea."  Yeah...there are times when I can have conversations with her about what's going on and she's super supportive, and then I get..."the talk".  So, I'm not going to talk with her about stuff when I'm actually emotional anymore.  I really am to the "matter-of-fact, shrug-it-off" stage of this struggle with infertility.  Maybe because we have no money to go further medically and have no way to go forward with adoption/fostering, but I'm usually NOT weepy or crying anymore. 

However, every now and then, a perfect storm of stuff happens to me and I get the gloomies.  And I really want to be able to call my mom and just hear words of comfort, but that's not gonna happen, because then it means that I'm "having a fit" and "need to get off of my high horse". calls to family when I'm weepy.  (And if you know my mom in real life and you tell her about this vent, I will have to hunt you down...OK, not really, but I need this blog to be a safe place to vent and telling her what I said totally undermines that, so keep this on the QT, OK?)

OK, that was a rabbit trail I wasn't planning on talking about, but I'm not going to delete it, because, well, it happened and I want to be honest on this site.  I need to face things head-on, even things when I'm in a not-happy spot.

But the main purpose of this particular post, the one that explains the title is this:  We're well on our way to reading through the Bible in 90 days.  I am daily finding new ideas, new thoughts about the Old Testament that I hadn't ever thought of before.

ANYWAY, this morning our youth minister was leading our weekly teacher's devotional time this morning before school and he brought up something God had just hit him upside the head with---and to be honest, it was an upside-the-head moment for me, too.  He said that God impressed upon him that many times our lives are like David's when he went to battle with Goliath.  David was supposed to fight that battle.  He had prepared for it by fighting the bear and the lion that had attacked his sheep.  God had set aside that battle for David, not for anyone else.  However, when he went to fight, he was waylaid by well-meaning people like the king of Israel, who insisted that David wear the king's armour.  David was fighting the RIGHT BATTLE, the one appointed for him to fight, but if he had gone forward with someone else's armour, he wouldn't have had success, because it would have been the WRONG ARMOUR.  Just as David had to hand back the wrong armour, we too need to make sure that we are 1) fighting the right battle, and 2) wearing the right armour. 

How does this apply to my journey with infertility?  I don't know right now.  I need to meditate on this right now.  I think it's going to involve lots of prayer, talks with the hubby, and discussions with the doctor.    Check back with me in a few days..

Hopefully by then I'll be able to actually talk about it.  I've had a wordless weekend due to laryngitis, and I'm hoping that it goes away soon.  Have a blessed week, and remember that smiles go farther than frowns!