It has been just over 4 months since I lost my 2nd baby, and almost 7 1/2 years since my first one was born. Today she finished kitah aleph. I never thought I would have a child going in grade school before having another. Of course, I never thought I would be married 13 years with only one precious little girl. I am so incredibly proud of how she is growing up- but it makes me sad that as each stage passes I don't know if I will ever see it again.
One of the reasons I was so incredibly excited for Gabbi was that it would take the bitter out of the bittersweet moments I have as Channah grows up and moves on. I would have had only the sweetness of watching her grow up without the bitter taste of knowing it is the last time xyz will happen.
I am watching her clean out her school bag from the year and it is making me a little sad.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
What do you do when you just can't stop the tears from coming? Where do you turn when you feel like even God has turned his back? This is not rhetorical. I am looking for practical suggestions. This has been the worst 4 months of my life and it just keeps going downhill, and I am not sure how much more I can handle.
Yes I know I have the hugest of brachot in Channah and Jason. And I know I have friends and family who love me. But that does not help at 1 in the morning when I can't stop The Sad no matter how I dress it up.
Yes I know I have the hugest of brachot in Channah and Jason. And I know I have friends and family who love me. But that does not help at 1 in the morning when I can't stop The Sad no matter how I dress it up.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Someone told me early on that there were two sorts of pain. The early pain that burns a hole in your very brings you to your knees with heart rending agony. And the later the pain becomes a dull ache that lives with you the rest of your life like scar tissue that never really leaves you alone.
Today while talking to my therapist I realized that I still have a real problem that comes and goes and that I need to deal with if I am going to be able to move forward. I have chosen to call it "The Sad". The Sad is moments of that first burning grief that come out of nowhere while you are working on living with the dull ache. It is those times where you are overcome and inconsolable and can think of nothing but what you lost. It is an entity of it's own and has its own timetable and until now I have been unable to contain it. In fact, until now I did not even recognize it for what it was. It is the essence of the pain of what I lost.
Bear with me.
There is a scene in Harry Potter, Prisoner of Azkaban where professor Remus Lupin intruder something called a Boggart to his Defense against the dark arts class. Nobody really knows what a boggart looks like, because the instant a boggart sees you in takes the form of your worst nightmare. It becomes that thing that scares you the most in an attempt to scare you off. But that is it's only trick. It has no other way to save itself from being thrown around by wizards. The minute you are no longer intimidated by it, it is forced to bend to your will!
So what does one do with a Boggart? One turns ones fear into a ridiculous satire of his or her greatest fear. Scared of giant spiders? Pictures it on roller skates with all its legs going in different direction. The same hold true in the real world. Intimidated of speaking in front of a group of people? Pictures those stiff necks in their underwear. The more ridiculous the image, the better it will work.
So I am thinking that now that I have identified the pain- now that I have given The Sad constraints and made it into something more tangible- an almost physical something I can fight- well now I just need to dress it up in it's best clown suit to be able to keep it under my control.
I picture The Sad as a giant grey cloud that comes and hovers around my head. There are lightening bolts and thunder booms and maybe some small dark flies for good measure. Pictures something like a bad guy in a Rainbow Bright Cartoon. Now in my head I am making it into a little Mr. Potato The Sad. I am giving it 2 little white arms, one holding a red balloon. I am giving it a top hat and a pair of Groucho Marx glasses with attached mustache and cigar, I am giving it the pink converse high top sneakers I always wanted but my mom would never let me have, and a flour on it's lapel that shoots water. How can I be sad about a cloud in a clown suit?
Ok, so I have not yet had a head on meeting with The Sad since I had this idea, but next time it shows its fluffy little face around here I am sure as hell going to try it. Hell, it can't be any worse than some of the other stuff I have tried. I am going to bring The Sad under my control and tell it that I am in charge of my emotions and while there will be times I will let it out and times I will need to see it and remember, those times are going to be on my terms!
When I do take out The Sad I want it to look like a beautiful little girl playing on a fluffy white cloud holding her arms out to me. When I can look at The Sad and see that, I will know I have really started the road back home.
Today while talking to my therapist I realized that I still have a real problem that comes and goes and that I need to deal with if I am going to be able to move forward. I have chosen to call it "The Sad". The Sad is moments of that first burning grief that come out of nowhere while you are working on living with the dull ache. It is those times where you are overcome and inconsolable and can think of nothing but what you lost. It is an entity of it's own and has its own timetable and until now I have been unable to contain it. In fact, until now I did not even recognize it for what it was. It is the essence of the pain of what I lost.
Bear with me.
There is a scene in Harry Potter, Prisoner of Azkaban where professor Remus Lupin intruder something called a Boggart to his Defense against the dark arts class. Nobody really knows what a boggart looks like, because the instant a boggart sees you in takes the form of your worst nightmare. It becomes that thing that scares you the most in an attempt to scare you off. But that is it's only trick. It has no other way to save itself from being thrown around by wizards. The minute you are no longer intimidated by it, it is forced to bend to your will!
So what does one do with a Boggart? One turns ones fear into a ridiculous satire of his or her greatest fear. Scared of giant spiders? Pictures it on roller skates with all its legs going in different direction. The same hold true in the real world. Intimidated of speaking in front of a group of people? Pictures those stiff necks in their underwear. The more ridiculous the image, the better it will work.
So I am thinking that now that I have identified the pain- now that I have given The Sad constraints and made it into something more tangible- an almost physical something I can fight- well now I just need to dress it up in it's best clown suit to be able to keep it under my control.
I picture The Sad as a giant grey cloud that comes and hovers around my head. There are lightening bolts and thunder booms and maybe some small dark flies for good measure. Pictures something like a bad guy in a Rainbow Bright Cartoon. Now in my head I am making it into a little Mr. Potato The Sad. I am giving it 2 little white arms, one holding a red balloon. I am giving it a top hat and a pair of Groucho Marx glasses with attached mustache and cigar, I am giving it the pink converse high top sneakers I always wanted but my mom would never let me have, and a flour on it's lapel that shoots water. How can I be sad about a cloud in a clown suit?
Ok, so I have not yet had a head on meeting with The Sad since I had this idea, but next time it shows its fluffy little face around here I am sure as hell going to try it. Hell, it can't be any worse than some of the other stuff I have tried. I am going to bring The Sad under my control and tell it that I am in charge of my emotions and while there will be times I will let it out and times I will need to see it and remember, those times are going to be on my terms!
When I do take out The Sad I want it to look like a beautiful little girl playing on a fluffy white cloud holding her arms out to me. When I can look at The Sad and see that, I will know I have really started the road back home.
Monday, June 27, 2011
For all my years growing up I learned that every yid, has inside of them, a single point of light that is there connection directly to Hashem. The pitele yid so to speak. That tiny spark of a soul in a Jewish neshama that no matter how far one pulls away from God, no matter how non-connected the soul to any form of yiddishkeit, no matter in how deep of a hole the light's owner might be- that tiny spark of a soul never goes out.
I spent a lot of years believing that this tiny point inside each of us that is the essence of who we are- some call it the pitele yid, some call it a shakra, some call it a spark, but a tiny point from where our entire being emanates. I believed that from that one tiny point came everything about who we are and what we become.
I believed God wrote our whole lives into that little point. Our hopes and dreams. Our wants. Our needs. It was the basic building block of every single person in the universe- Jew or non-Jew a like and when a person dies it is that tiny piece that returns to our maker to be judged based on how well it utilized it pregiven tools to fulfill a complicated series of tests and programs.
I believed God took out each tool one at a time and examined them.
"Ah, a good heart- you used it well to help those who needed it. You never let anyone struggle if you could help it. You gave of yourself whenever you could spare it- and sometimes when you couldn't. You used this tool well.
"The gift of music- you used this well to cheer the elderly and to teach the young. You enjoyed it. It made you and those around you happy. Yes, little spark, this tool you used well.
"A strong family name- you could have used this much better my little spark. You could have used the schlepp with this name to help more people to build greater things. This tool, my little spark you did not use as well as you could have.
And so on and so forth. Once the value of each tool was added up, God would look at the sum total of you did with what he gave you and your lot in the next world would be set based on his weights and measures.
I feel now as though I have lost that spark. Like I have lost that little package of tools that God gave just to me that was the essence of who Rachel was. I have spent 32 years learning how to use those tools to the best of my abilities, and now I can't figure out where I put them. It is like losing my port in a storm after running the same river for 3 decades.
For 30 odd years I was strong and tried to help others. I ran to do favours even if they made my life harder or took time from other things I needed to do. I stood up for what I thought was right with every fibre of my being that I could muster. I could go days on no sleep if it meant getting a job done for a good cause. I loved to read, to sing, to work. I was creative and aware of the world around me. I saw God's hand in nature and in everything I loved. Those were my tools.
Now I don't know where they have gone. I lean on others for support, and have no will to put effort into anything. I sleep to get away from my life, but in sleep I have dreams that make me want to run. I don't read. I barely play music. I feel like God is a million miles away and that he has no interest in me.
So who am I now? In 120 years how will I be judged having lost my toolbelt? Will I find a new set somewhere along the road that I will learn to use to do good things in new ways? Will someone come chasing me down one day to hand me my old worn out tools that I know how to use and tell me I just forgot them at my last rest stop?
They say there are many stages to artistry.
A bad artist will do bad work with great tools.
A mediocre artist will do mediocre work with great tools
A good artist will do great work with great tools
A great artist can do stunning work with bad tools.
In my day job I am a mediocre artist who can do good work with great tools. In my life job I am now an out of work artist with no tools.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I am finally starting to put myself back together- gluing together the fragmented pieces of the outer shell that used to be Rachel. The problem is that the inner spark, the piece of my soul that made me who I was is sputttering and does not want to light. I am in desperate need of a spiritual recharge and have absolutely no idea where to turn. I suppose if I were of a different sort of sect I would be looking for a mashbia or some such thing, but I'm not and I don't have one.
I feel like the bulb is slowly coming back together, but the filament is burned out.
Please DO NOT just send me divrei Torah as no matter how wonderful they are I can pretty much promise they will not get read. I need a real live person, or place or some other proper noun I can turn to for advice and recharging.
I feel like the bulb is slowly coming back together, but the filament is burned out.
Please DO NOT just send me divrei Torah as no matter how wonderful they are I can pretty much promise they will not get read. I need a real live person, or place or some other proper noun I can turn to for advice and recharging.
Almost 4 whole months now since I thought my life ended. It didn't, I'm still here. In theory at least. A lot of who I was died that day- an innocence and invulnerability that comes with youth. I call my Bubbie almost every day now. I hug my daughter more. I have learned not to take a single minute with anyone for granted.
But in essence, really, really, really deep down inside, I am still me in a lot of the way that are important- and those ways are slowly starting to show themselves again. Sure there are still days where I do nothing by cry that I want my baby- but there are more and more days where I get up, go to work, and in the quiet moments shed tears over what will never be.
We did make the hard decision to jump whole heatedly back into treatment. I can't stand the doctor in charge- too slow and methodical- I have no patience for it- but that is what we are stuck with so long as we stay with our current kupah in RBSA. I have no idea how we are going to meet the costs and whatnot, but we have both agreed that living on pasta and petal is better than living with the hole in our hearts.
We also took a leap and filled out the initial paperwork for adoption. We have to photocopy a few documents tomorrow morning then it goes in the mail. Supposedly we should hear from a social worker within a month or so, but the process itself can take up to 5 years if you are a stickler for a perfect newborn. We're not so who knows what will be or how long it will take.
Channah is doing perfectly well. You would not know anything happened except for sometimes when she says something or does something she worries it mimght upset me- like telling me a girl's mother had a baby. She still gives me double kisses only instead of one for me and one for Gabbi they are now both for me because "sad immas need lots of extra hugs and kisses". It kills me that someone so small should take on such a huge responsibility.
Slowly but surely I am out and doing more and more. I have no idea how I will handle Toronto. I am terrible with crowds. Anxiety attacks have become my new best friend- but somehow I will manage.
Other than that, stuff is pretty much the same around here. The baby stuff is still at friend's of ours. I told Jason to bring it home and to put it in the machsan sometime and to just not tell me about it. For all I know it is already there. Channah's room is back to being all hers with no room cleared out for anyone else. For the most part daily medical stuff is, at least, on hold temporarily.
And I am ok. I am not good. I am not terrible. I am just OK. It is like floating somewhere between this world and the next, between heaven where my little girl is, and hell where I was and knowing I can't get to either one so I just need to find a way to get comfortable where I am. I keep looking for a nice fluffy cloud around the midway mark- maybe with a couple of friendly care bears for company, but so far I am mostly still just drifting aimlessly. I stop and reevaluate my direction when I hit something, but for the most part just sort of go where the wind takes me.
Is that good? Is that bad? I don't really know. I know my therapist and my doctors tell me I am doing really well and that I like to please them. I know I have gotten back enough of myself to argue with them when I think they are way off the mark on something. I know I have gone back to shopping doctors until I find who can answer my questions to my satisfaction. And I know all of those are very much "old me" things to do.
These last 4 months have obviously been the worst 4 months of my life. I look back at them and time seems to warp and stretch with it sometimes seeming like forever ago and sometimes seeming like yesterday. It is as if time is made out of silly putty and I can stretch and twist it however I want, but theend result is still always the same.
Me here. My arms empty. My soul black.
But even the blackness is starting, little by tiny little bit to lighten like the slow coming of dawn at midnight. A sparkle here from Channah. A twinkle there from Jason. A flame in the darkness from a good friend- and lots more good friends reflecting that light a million ways with mirrors trying to get me to find my way out of what seems eternal darkness. And I think it is slowly starting to work.
I am still sad a lot. And I am still angry a lot. But I am also remembering how to love a lot. How to care a lot. How to give a warm hug to an old friend getting married. How to snuggle my 7 year old under the blankets. In short, how to be me.
A final change- a huge one that is ongoing and I suspect will be for a long time, is my relationship with God. Early on in this blog I tried to define his roll. Was he my father? My king? Now I know he is both and neither. He is only what I let him be and right now, until I heal some more he is nothing to me. He exists only in an existential way that has nothing to do with me- sure he makes it rain and keeps the mosquito buzzing- but when it comes to me I am using my sechel to make my own decisions- no one or nothing is going to decide what is best for me but me. I had too many doctors, doctors who play God every single day of their lives tell me "well God knows best".
I believe God might know the outcome, but I do not believe he is working for my personal best interest. If that makes me a bad Jew so be it. But as of now, almost 4 months after losing one of my biggest joy's, that is who I am.
I don't know what will be- no one does- but maybe there is a special child already out there waiting for an imma and abba with just our set of skills. Maybe there's not. Who knows? I just know that one way or another losing Gabbi has lit a fire under me to grow my little family into a slightly larger one- and however that is meant to happen it will.
But in essence, really, really, really deep down inside, I am still me in a lot of the way that are important- and those ways are slowly starting to show themselves again. Sure there are still days where I do nothing by cry that I want my baby- but there are more and more days where I get up, go to work, and in the quiet moments shed tears over what will never be.
We did make the hard decision to jump whole heatedly back into treatment. I can't stand the doctor in charge- too slow and methodical- I have no patience for it- but that is what we are stuck with so long as we stay with our current kupah in RBSA. I have no idea how we are going to meet the costs and whatnot, but we have both agreed that living on pasta and petal is better than living with the hole in our hearts.
We also took a leap and filled out the initial paperwork for adoption. We have to photocopy a few documents tomorrow morning then it goes in the mail. Supposedly we should hear from a social worker within a month or so, but the process itself can take up to 5 years if you are a stickler for a perfect newborn. We're not so who knows what will be or how long it will take.
Channah is doing perfectly well. You would not know anything happened except for sometimes when she says something or does something she worries it mimght upset me- like telling me a girl's mother had a baby. She still gives me double kisses only instead of one for me and one for Gabbi they are now both for me because "sad immas need lots of extra hugs and kisses". It kills me that someone so small should take on such a huge responsibility.
Slowly but surely I am out and doing more and more. I have no idea how I will handle Toronto. I am terrible with crowds. Anxiety attacks have become my new best friend- but somehow I will manage.
Other than that, stuff is pretty much the same around here. The baby stuff is still at friend's of ours. I told Jason to bring it home and to put it in the machsan sometime and to just not tell me about it. For all I know it is already there. Channah's room is back to being all hers with no room cleared out for anyone else. For the most part daily medical stuff is, at least, on hold temporarily.
And I am ok. I am not good. I am not terrible. I am just OK. It is like floating somewhere between this world and the next, between heaven where my little girl is, and hell where I was and knowing I can't get to either one so I just need to find a way to get comfortable where I am. I keep looking for a nice fluffy cloud around the midway mark- maybe with a couple of friendly care bears for company, but so far I am mostly still just drifting aimlessly. I stop and reevaluate my direction when I hit something, but for the most part just sort of go where the wind takes me.
Is that good? Is that bad? I don't really know. I know my therapist and my doctors tell me I am doing really well and that I like to please them. I know I have gotten back enough of myself to argue with them when I think they are way off the mark on something. I know I have gone back to shopping doctors until I find who can answer my questions to my satisfaction. And I know all of those are very much "old me" things to do.
These last 4 months have obviously been the worst 4 months of my life. I look back at them and time seems to warp and stretch with it sometimes seeming like forever ago and sometimes seeming like yesterday. It is as if time is made out of silly putty and I can stretch and twist it however I want, but theend result is still always the same.
Me here. My arms empty. My soul black.
But even the blackness is starting, little by tiny little bit to lighten like the slow coming of dawn at midnight. A sparkle here from Channah. A twinkle there from Jason. A flame in the darkness from a good friend- and lots more good friends reflecting that light a million ways with mirrors trying to get me to find my way out of what seems eternal darkness. And I think it is slowly starting to work.
I am still sad a lot. And I am still angry a lot. But I am also remembering how to love a lot. How to care a lot. How to give a warm hug to an old friend getting married. How to snuggle my 7 year old under the blankets. In short, how to be me.
A final change- a huge one that is ongoing and I suspect will be for a long time, is my relationship with God. Early on in this blog I tried to define his roll. Was he my father? My king? Now I know he is both and neither. He is only what I let him be and right now, until I heal some more he is nothing to me. He exists only in an existential way that has nothing to do with me- sure he makes it rain and keeps the mosquito buzzing- but when it comes to me I am using my sechel to make my own decisions- no one or nothing is going to decide what is best for me but me. I had too many doctors, doctors who play God every single day of their lives tell me "well God knows best".
I believe God might know the outcome, but I do not believe he is working for my personal best interest. If that makes me a bad Jew so be it. But as of now, almost 4 months after losing one of my biggest joy's, that is who I am.
I don't know what will be- no one does- but maybe there is a special child already out there waiting for an imma and abba with just our set of skills. Maybe there's not. Who knows? I just know that one way or another losing Gabbi has lit a fire under me to grow my little family into a slightly larger one- and however that is meant to happen it will.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
I don't even know where to begin with today. Like I said, saw the fertility expert. She thinks I will get pregnant on my own before she finishes running all the preliminary tests. Not looking at any sort of treatment cycle until September. I feel like I am staring into a summer made up of that giant black hole in my soul that sucks all the energy out of me. I wish there were some sort of magic pill where I could just turn into a robot until I have a baby in my arms. No need to think or feel. Just do what I am told and not feel the humiliation of being a broken machine every single day of my life.
We went to a wedding tonight for an old friend from Toronto. I am so happy for him. He looked so thrilled and full of hope. I remember the day I got married. I was so happy and hopeful. I did not think I ever wanted kids- now just look at me! I remember my dreams being big enough to fill the social hall, the whole shul and even the whole world. I remember picturing my future as so full of hope and promise-
And yet here I am. 13 years almost to the day later. 1 child and desperate for more- but not a very good imma to the one that I have. The hopes and dreams in my heart have been replaced by a giant black cloud that leads me like the cloud used to lead the people by day in the desert- but there is no fire to lead me through the night. I just wander in smaller and smaller circles until I stand in one place for so long the desert sand blows over me and buries me in place.
I have tried so hard through all of this to get better. To keep my spirits as high as I can make them- and today I feel like they were smashed to earth like a piece of old pottery that no one is going to bother even thinking of trying to put back together. I feel like my heart shattered to learn I have to start from scratch.
Sitting in those offices where I was once so excited hearing about my next selection of hell on earth is/was just so much more than I can bare I don't know if I can do it. I need to- unless she is right and we conceive on our own- yeah right. Gabbi was my miracle child and I don't expect that to happen twice. I would like to think that going on vacation to Toronto again will somehow magically do it, but I am not naive enough to believe that.
The truth is, the process is going to break us both emotionally and financially- yes even here. The rumour that it is free is not exactly true- not even close- cheaper than in North American maybe, but lets not forget for one moment that we also earn less than most North American's. I don't know how I am going to get through this. Maybe I should just quit while I am ahead with one precious little girl the the memory of another sweet tiny face I only saw for a few minutes.
I just feel so lost and broken again right now. Our anniversary is Friday. Last year we didn't do anything special. We had no idea yet the roller coaster the year would bring. This year I think I plan to just stay home and cry and wish that God will let me forget a year I wish never happened.
We went to a wedding tonight for an old friend from Toronto. I am so happy for him. He looked so thrilled and full of hope. I remember the day I got married. I was so happy and hopeful. I did not think I ever wanted kids- now just look at me! I remember my dreams being big enough to fill the social hall, the whole shul and even the whole world. I remember picturing my future as so full of hope and promise-
And yet here I am. 13 years almost to the day later. 1 child and desperate for more- but not a very good imma to the one that I have. The hopes and dreams in my heart have been replaced by a giant black cloud that leads me like the cloud used to lead the people by day in the desert- but there is no fire to lead me through the night. I just wander in smaller and smaller circles until I stand in one place for so long the desert sand blows over me and buries me in place.
I have tried so hard through all of this to get better. To keep my spirits as high as I can make them- and today I feel like they were smashed to earth like a piece of old pottery that no one is going to bother even thinking of trying to put back together. I feel like my heart shattered to learn I have to start from scratch.
Sitting in those offices where I was once so excited hearing about my next selection of hell on earth is/was just so much more than I can bare I don't know if I can do it. I need to- unless she is right and we conceive on our own- yeah right. Gabbi was my miracle child and I don't expect that to happen twice. I would like to think that going on vacation to Toronto again will somehow magically do it, but I am not naive enough to believe that.
The truth is, the process is going to break us both emotionally and financially- yes even here. The rumour that it is free is not exactly true- not even close- cheaper than in North American maybe, but lets not forget for one moment that we also earn less than most North American's. I don't know how I am going to get through this. Maybe I should just quit while I am ahead with one precious little girl the the memory of another sweet tiny face I only saw for a few minutes.
I just feel so lost and broken again right now. Our anniversary is Friday. Last year we didn't do anything special. We had no idea yet the roller coaster the year would bring. This year I think I plan to just stay home and cry and wish that God will let me forget a year I wish never happened.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Just came from the fertility specialist. Basically we are starting from absolute scratch. She thinks I will be pregnant on my own before we are throu all the preliminary testing- yeah, as if. 13 years and it will all just magically come together now? So
Somehow I don't think so.
Everything is done in the women's centre of the kupah. Sitting in those same offices where I was so incredibly happy going through this is just more than I can bare. I really don't think I am goi g to be able to do this and survive.
I know they are all trying to help and to make things as painless as possible- the problem is there is no such thing.
This is going to be expensive and draining and I just don't know how I am going To make it through- never mind pay for it all! The genetic testing alone looks like it could run in the thousands of shekel And the will not move forward without it.
All I want is my baby.
And it ain't gonna be this Month or next Month either save by the grace of god and I do not trust his grace as far as I can throw it. Looking at possibly getting around to cycling once we get home- next fall :(
Now off to a wedding where I need to nehappy and on the ball for an old friend.
Back to living in pure dark hellish hopelessness.
Somehow I don't think so.
Everything is done in the women's centre of the kupah. Sitting in those same offices where I was so incredibly happy going through this is just more than I can bare. I really don't think I am goi g to be able to do this and survive.
I know they are all trying to help and to make things as painless as possible- the problem is there is no such thing.
This is going to be expensive and draining and I just don't know how I am going To make it through- never mind pay for it all! The genetic testing alone looks like it could run in the thousands of shekel And the will not move forward without it.
All I want is my baby.
And it ain't gonna be this Month or next Month either save by the grace of god and I do not trust his grace as far as I can throw it. Looking at possibly getting around to cycling once we get home- next fall :(
Now off to a wedding where I need to nehappy and on the ball for an old friend.
Back to living in pure dark hellish hopelessness.
I was not expecting tonight to be nearly as hard as it was.
At dinner I almost started to cry a few times thinking how much happier we were last year on our anniversary before any of this had happened. It got me thinking, would I have been happier had I never had the chance to "get to know Gabbi"? I don't think so. I know now that in the next world I have a 2nd beautiful little girl waiting for me. It also served to remind me that I want more children and get my tush in gear.
I hate that God took her from me, but as the hitchiker we picked up tonight reminded me, there is nothing we can do but to be happy with our lot from God. Not like we can change it so we might as well get used to living with it. Can't say I like it, but I can sort of see her point. It is not "it is all for the best" and trying to cut out the pain- it accepts the pain and says we have to learn to live with it because there is no other option. A subtle difference but a big one. It has given me something to think about.
The Jerusalem festival of lights was lovely but much, much harder than I expected it to be. The last festival we went to in the old city was with a rather pregnant me. Through the Jewish quarter where I go all the time it was no problem. Through the Christian quarter where I had only been that one other time it was like a mockery of my former happier time there. The festival itself was so, so much better than the last one, but I was miserable to the point of a fairly major anxiety attack. I took a full 2.5mg dose of clonex- something I almost never do, to try to calm down.
Once it started working I was able to relax a little bit and enjoy myself- especially once we got into areas I had never seen before.
Until I sprained my ankle. Tripped on a wobbly manhole cover and bashed my shoulder into the wall. I managed to stay upright, but my ankle went right over. Icing it now and we will see how it looks in the morning to figure out what I should do next.
I think I am going to take tomorrow morning to sleep in and spend some time thinking. Then I will spend the afternoon panicking over the appointment with the fertility specialist and if she will take one look at me and write me off. Oh, and trying to figure out what to wear to a wedding tomorrow night.
Basically, a day to just go where my brain leads. I think I have earned it.
I made it through a hard night tonight and even managed to enjoy myself a little. Some people will complain I am too slow to come back to my normal fun loving self- personally I see getting through the panic attack and going on to have a decently good time as a huge step in the right direction.
But then again what do I know?
At dinner I almost started to cry a few times thinking how much happier we were last year on our anniversary before any of this had happened. It got me thinking, would I have been happier had I never had the chance to "get to know Gabbi"? I don't think so. I know now that in the next world I have a 2nd beautiful little girl waiting for me. It also served to remind me that I want more children and get my tush in gear.
I hate that God took her from me, but as the hitchiker we picked up tonight reminded me, there is nothing we can do but to be happy with our lot from God. Not like we can change it so we might as well get used to living with it. Can't say I like it, but I can sort of see her point. It is not "it is all for the best" and trying to cut out the pain- it accepts the pain and says we have to learn to live with it because there is no other option. A subtle difference but a big one. It has given me something to think about.
The Jerusalem festival of lights was lovely but much, much harder than I expected it to be. The last festival we went to in the old city was with a rather pregnant me. Through the Jewish quarter where I go all the time it was no problem. Through the Christian quarter where I had only been that one other time it was like a mockery of my former happier time there. The festival itself was so, so much better than the last one, but I was miserable to the point of a fairly major anxiety attack. I took a full 2.5mg dose of clonex- something I almost never do, to try to calm down.
Once it started working I was able to relax a little bit and enjoy myself- especially once we got into areas I had never seen before.
Until I sprained my ankle. Tripped on a wobbly manhole cover and bashed my shoulder into the wall. I managed to stay upright, but my ankle went right over. Icing it now and we will see how it looks in the morning to figure out what I should do next.
I think I am going to take tomorrow morning to sleep in and spend some time thinking. Then I will spend the afternoon panicking over the appointment with the fertility specialist and if she will take one look at me and write me off. Oh, and trying to figure out what to wear to a wedding tomorrow night.
Basically, a day to just go where my brain leads. I think I have earned it.
I made it through a hard night tonight and even managed to enjoy myself a little. Some people will complain I am too slow to come back to my normal fun loving self- personally I see getting through the panic attack and going on to have a decently good time as a huge step in the right direction.
But then again what do I know?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
We are going out for our 13th anniversary tonight (although our anniversary is not until Friday). I know I should be grateful for everything that I have received in those 13 years, but all I keep thinking is that I should have had to plan tonight around a 3 month old in a stroller. Instead this morning I went for bloodwork again to see "how I am doing". Got the results back and I have no idea what they mean. I hate the stupid 2 week wait.
In any case, while I wish I could be looking back on all the good things of the last 13 years, Channah, a lovely home always full of guests, amazing friends and neighbours, better relationships with my family, Channah, living my childhood drream having made aliya, a closet full of gorgeous Israeli style clothing that I love, a husband who has stuck by me through thick and thin, star trek -like technology on my iphone, kosher grape flavoured Popsicle Channah- the only think I can seem to focus on today is what God took away.
Maybe I really am too negative.
In any case, while I wish I could be looking back on all the good things of the last 13 years, Channah, a lovely home always full of guests, amazing friends and neighbours, better relationships with my family, Channah, living my childhood drream having made aliya, a closet full of gorgeous Israeli style clothing that I love, a husband who has stuck by me through thick and thin, star trek -like technology on my iphone, kosher grape flavoured Popsicle Channah- the only think I can seem to focus on today is what God took away.
Maybe I really am too negative.
Monday, June 20, 2011
A comment a friend made on my last post made me realize something. I am living my life as an orthodox Jew, believing in God and abiding by his rules, but I in no way trust him to look out for my best interests. Seriously, in no way.
It was God who decided it was in my best interest to take my Gabbi from me. After all the love and all the work I put into that pregnancy, it twas God who decided to send me hell on Earth and a nervous breakown. Sure it was also God who sent me a fabulous community after the fact, but I would rather live in a neighbourhood filled with thugs and drug dealers with my baby in my arms than in this fabulous area with my baby in my heart.
I now go out of my way to plan everything down to the tiniest detail- checkig and double checking everything two, three, even four times. I have started making packing lists months in advance- sure God can still destroy my plans, and in many ways I expect him to, but I can no longer trust him to look after things for me so that they will all work out in the end.
It is funny, living in Toronto we always assumed nothing would work out, but since we made aliya we have to accept with ease the idea that God is in charge and it will all work out in the end. It is amazing how easily and quickly I through that idea out of the window. Almost 3 years of learning to trust God's hands out the window in a single missed heartbeat.
I will never, never NEVER forgive God for what he took from me. We learn in various places that for stealing the punishment is to pay double, quadruple or even quintuple times the amount stolen in payback and so far as I can tell GOD OWES ME for what he stole. God should be found guilty in beit din shel malah and forced to repay what he stole from me. Until such time he should be considered a rasha who does not follow his own rules.
About a rasha one can speak lashon harah, he ccan be banned from the kehillah, and one need not associate with him.
But I like my life. Other than the constant pain in my heart and in my soul it is comfortable. So I continue to abide by his rules and pretend that I believe in a God of kindness and love and fairness. A God who listens and loves his children like a father. Who hands out reward and punishment with equal fairness- but in my heart, the same heart that pains for eyes I never saw open, for hands I never got to hold, for diapers I never got to change, while I continue to believe he created the universe and controls every minute aspect of it, I do not believe he has, for even a single moment, my best interest in mind.
I live by his codes and I follow his rules, but like an abused child who listens out of fear and not love, I hate the God I have come to believe in. And no one who ha snot been in my position, no one who has B"H never had to sign chevra kadisha papers for a child, who has had to go through life not knowing where their child would spend their days until mashiach arrives, who ever got to hug each of their children and watch them grow into beautiful, beautiful people, can even think to tell me otherwise.
God is a big boy. He does not need anyone to protect him or speak for him. As for me, I am much smaller and yet still stand on my own two feet and speak for myself. And I am saying, Until God pays up what he owes, he can put me in whatever book he likes, he is on my !@#$ list.
It was God who decided it was in my best interest to take my Gabbi from me. After all the love and all the work I put into that pregnancy, it twas God who decided to send me hell on Earth and a nervous breakown. Sure it was also God who sent me a fabulous community after the fact, but I would rather live in a neighbourhood filled with thugs and drug dealers with my baby in my arms than in this fabulous area with my baby in my heart.
I now go out of my way to plan everything down to the tiniest detail- checkig and double checking everything two, three, even four times. I have started making packing lists months in advance- sure God can still destroy my plans, and in many ways I expect him to, but I can no longer trust him to look after things for me so that they will all work out in the end.
It is funny, living in Toronto we always assumed nothing would work out, but since we made aliya we have to accept with ease the idea that God is in charge and it will all work out in the end. It is amazing how easily and quickly I through that idea out of the window. Almost 3 years of learning to trust God's hands out the window in a single missed heartbeat.
I will never, never NEVER forgive God for what he took from me. We learn in various places that for stealing the punishment is to pay double, quadruple or even quintuple times the amount stolen in payback and so far as I can tell GOD OWES ME for what he stole. God should be found guilty in beit din shel malah and forced to repay what he stole from me. Until such time he should be considered a rasha who does not follow his own rules.
About a rasha one can speak lashon harah, he ccan be banned from the kehillah, and one need not associate with him.
But I like my life. Other than the constant pain in my heart and in my soul it is comfortable. So I continue to abide by his rules and pretend that I believe in a God of kindness and love and fairness. A God who listens and loves his children like a father. Who hands out reward and punishment with equal fairness- but in my heart, the same heart that pains for eyes I never saw open, for hands I never got to hold, for diapers I never got to change, while I continue to believe he created the universe and controls every minute aspect of it, I do not believe he has, for even a single moment, my best interest in mind.
I live by his codes and I follow his rules, but like an abused child who listens out of fear and not love, I hate the God I have come to believe in. And no one who ha snot been in my position, no one who has B"H never had to sign chevra kadisha papers for a child, who has had to go through life not knowing where their child would spend their days until mashiach arrives, who ever got to hug each of their children and watch them grow into beautiful, beautiful people, can even think to tell me otherwise.
God is a big boy. He does not need anyone to protect him or speak for him. As for me, I am much smaller and yet still stand on my own two feet and speak for myself. And I am saying, Until God pays up what he owes, he can put me in whatever book he likes, he is on my !@#$ list.
Ok, now what?
I woke up this morning with no motivation to do anything whatsoever. Now that the two shoes are done I am sort of at loose ends. I don't really have anything to keep my mind off what I wish I were doing right now instead of what I am doing- which is nothing.
Ok, so there are a lot of things I like to do and summer is coming so I can even do some of them with Channah which tends to make them more fun. I can go to a museum. I can go to the beach. I could go shopping if I had money to blow which I don't because we spent it all on a pregnancy that went no where. I could volunteer somewhere if I actually enjoyed being with people- which I don't really.
I could start looking into adoptions or seeing a fertility specialist (both of which we have already set up) but lets be honest, even if I do, please God, get pregnant right away, which I doubt, I am in for 9 months of hell as no matter what I do, and I could do every single thing right, it could still all end with me watching my husband hold a dead baby in his arms.
Talk about not willing to get attached. I told Jason that if we are lucky enough to have it happen again I do not even want to know if it is a boy or a girl so I do not start dreaming about things. Too dangerous.
I feel like I am at loose ends. To soon to start packing for vacation. but nothing really to do until then but put up a new item or two a day into my web shop.
As always, please keep davening for whatever is in my best interest- hopefully an infant in my arms as quickly as possible.
Thanks.
I woke up this morning with no motivation to do anything whatsoever. Now that the two shoes are done I am sort of at loose ends. I don't really have anything to keep my mind off what I wish I were doing right now instead of what I am doing- which is nothing.
Ok, so there are a lot of things I like to do and summer is coming so I can even do some of them with Channah which tends to make them more fun. I can go to a museum. I can go to the beach. I could go shopping if I had money to blow which I don't because we spent it all on a pregnancy that went no where. I could volunteer somewhere if I actually enjoyed being with people- which I don't really.
I could start looking into adoptions or seeing a fertility specialist (both of which we have already set up) but lets be honest, even if I do, please God, get pregnant right away, which I doubt, I am in for 9 months of hell as no matter what I do, and I could do every single thing right, it could still all end with me watching my husband hold a dead baby in his arms.
Talk about not willing to get attached. I told Jason that if we are lucky enough to have it happen again I do not even want to know if it is a boy or a girl so I do not start dreaming about things. Too dangerous.
I feel like I am at loose ends. To soon to start packing for vacation. but nothing really to do until then but put up a new item or two a day into my web shop.
As always, please keep davening for whatever is in my best interest- hopefully an infant in my arms as quickly as possible.
Thanks.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Well, I guess even if my body and I hate each other I can take some comfort in the fact that I am good at what I do. I had a sale tonight as part of a a local "MegaMall" and did better than I expected to. My new animal line seems to be make people go wild ;) Seriously, I just wish I could focus on my positives rather than my faults. I guess it is hard to move past years and years of having thrown in your face.
Well, the last of the people due anywhere near where I was have had their babies. I am the only one who struck out. I guess in it's own way that is a good thing- I just wish it did not have to be me.Those who had just found out they were expecting when we lost Gabbi are really starting to show. We are starting to consider other options. Meeting with the fertility specialist this week for the first time. Looking into fostering and adoption.
I just want someone tiny who needs me to love.
Feeling really really low tonight. Low and alone.
I just want someone tiny who needs me to love.
Feeling really really low tonight. Low and alone.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Sorry loyal readers, not much to report today. Today was for the living and its posts can be found on our main blog at Moving on Up - Cherry Picking Festival
Suffice it to say I survived crowds, families, pregnant women, strollers, and all sorts of other triggers and I WAS OKAY!
Suffice it to say I survived crowds, families, pregnant women, strollers, and all sorts of other triggers and I WAS OKAY!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Well this is another first. I am on the bus to Jerusalem for the first time on my own since the whole disaster. Not only that but I am going to meet the generous Neshama who helped us with a donation to help cover the shrink. I feel like I owe her my life! I was nothing more than a puddle of Rachel-goo before her assistance with seeing the right shaliach.
I wish I had what to give her to express the extent of my gratitude, but what on this world holds the value of even a damaged soul? All I can give is my Bracha that she always find herself in a position where she can help others.
I wish I had what to give her to express the extent of my gratitude, but what on this world holds the value of even a damaged soul? All I can give is my Bracha that she always find herself in a position where she can help others.
Tonight Channah and I had a date to go watch Jason play softball. It was a real treat since the game started half an hour after her bedtime. I packed up lots of stuff to do for when she got bored (I figured the game would keep her occupied for maybe 5 minutes. I think I overestimated), some snacks and we headed off.
We were in the middle of a huge open field. No lights but the ones on the diamond. We could see the lunar eclipse perfectly with no interference from nearby light sources. We got to make the bracha ose maaseh bereshit together while we watch the moon completely disappear from view.
And you know what? I made the bracha without any resentment towards God that if he could create such amazing things why couldn't he have let Gabbi live. It is a hard time, we have a number of friends due any day, but I was able to see the amazing feat of nature for what it was- an amazing feat of nature.
One small step for me, one giant leap for my recovery.
We were in the middle of a huge open field. No lights but the ones on the diamond. We could see the lunar eclipse perfectly with no interference from nearby light sources. We got to make the bracha ose maaseh bereshit together while we watch the moon completely disappear from view.
And you know what? I made the bracha without any resentment towards God that if he could create such amazing things why couldn't he have let Gabbi live. It is a hard time, we have a number of friends due any day, but I was able to see the amazing feat of nature for what it was- an amazing feat of nature.
One small step for me, one giant leap for my recovery.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Well my therapist thinks I am one of the strongest people she has ever seen, but also that having to fight for every single thing all the time for the last little while is taking a physical as well as mental toll on me. She wonders if there is anyway I could just avoid the people who hurt the most- unfortunately once I explained she understood why that was just not really possible.
She commended me for not giving up, and expressed real concern over the damage other people can do to me.
She also told me that Jason is a really good guy who loves me a lot- as if I had any doubt about that part of the equation. She thinks we are a really strong couple and will land on our feet. That we are mostly there and the next step is to build a wall around ourselves so certain people can't hurt us anymore. I hate to admit it, but I think in this case she might be right. It is something I have been thinking about for years but I never really thought my therapist would tell me that sometimes it is a good idea to find ways to shut out the world when the world is too hurtful. I just assumed that I always needed to deal with pain the way everyone else in my family does- head on and move past it and don't look back.
It never rally occurred to me that maybe for me there are other options. Maybe for a lot of us there are other options- we just never really thought to go looking for them because we have been conditioned not to.
Starting next week she is going to work on helping me build a wall to keep out the hurt that comes from contact with certain people.
She commended me for not giving up, and expressed real concern over the damage other people can do to me.
She also told me that Jason is a really good guy who loves me a lot- as if I had any doubt about that part of the equation. She thinks we are a really strong couple and will land on our feet. That we are mostly there and the next step is to build a wall around ourselves so certain people can't hurt us anymore. I hate to admit it, but I think in this case she might be right. It is something I have been thinking about for years but I never really thought my therapist would tell me that sometimes it is a good idea to find ways to shut out the world when the world is too hurtful. I just assumed that I always needed to deal with pain the way everyone else in my family does- head on and move past it and don't look back.
It never rally occurred to me that maybe for me there are other options. Maybe for a lot of us there are other options- we just never really thought to go looking for them because we have been conditioned not to.
Starting next week she is going to work on helping me build a wall to keep out the hurt that comes from contact with certain people.
Had a long talk with one of the women I know who have gone through this and now help council others before I went to bed last night and, while I did drug myself to sleep for fear of never getting there on my own, I did feel quite a bit better afterwards. I am really, really glad that I found this woman. She is actually a longtime family friend who I never had much to do with on a one to one scale because she was my mom's friend, but the truth is that I have no idea how I would have gotten this far without her.
Anyhow, she reminded me that there are just some people who will never "get it"- and that even if they do they might be to overwhelmed with their own grief that they just look for reasons to put it out of their heads and not deal with it. There are just those people who take an "ok, it happened, now lets move on and never speak of it again" sort of approach to life. That is obviously not my approach at all and so of course I am going to find those people hurtful, and it will seem that they don't care.
Now, being a touch further away from the puddle of tears I was last night, I can also look at it a little bit more objectively and say that there are just those people for whom emotional pain does not "count". So long as I was still recovering from the c-section, I "earned" understanding. Now that it is "only" emotional pain, I should just get over it and move on.
The truth is, I was really hurt last night when I found out that someone close to me was given the opportunity to come be with me during those first few horrible days, and while all along I was being told there was no way, in truth they just chose not to take the option. As it is someone who is supposed to care about how I am doing and want to b there for me, I am more than a little upset. The truth of the matter is, as my conversational companion pointed out, she might not have wanted to come because she was worried that by being here she might make things worse.
On the other hand, even if they only came for a few days I would have appreciated it.
So I guess the long story made even longer is that I need to remember that there are those out there callous enough to really think I can just get over this and move on. But that's not me. The fact that they choose to handle their problems that way and that it might work for them, does not mean that it would for me. If they can't understand where I am coming from, no amount wasting my breath trying to explain it will make one iota of difference.
Why is it that God chose to make it that those who love you the most can hurt you the deepest?
As always, please keep praying for Rachl Marmel bat Mindle Hinda Chaya for a speedy and complet pregnancy that ends in a healthy, happy baby.
Thanks for listening.
Anyhow, she reminded me that there are just some people who will never "get it"- and that even if they do they might be to overwhelmed with their own grief that they just look for reasons to put it out of their heads and not deal with it. There are just those people who take an "ok, it happened, now lets move on and never speak of it again" sort of approach to life. That is obviously not my approach at all and so of course I am going to find those people hurtful, and it will seem that they don't care.
Now, being a touch further away from the puddle of tears I was last night, I can also look at it a little bit more objectively and say that there are just those people for whom emotional pain does not "count". So long as I was still recovering from the c-section, I "earned" understanding. Now that it is "only" emotional pain, I should just get over it and move on.
The truth is, I was really hurt last night when I found out that someone close to me was given the opportunity to come be with me during those first few horrible days, and while all along I was being told there was no way, in truth they just chose not to take the option. As it is someone who is supposed to care about how I am doing and want to b there for me, I am more than a little upset. The truth of the matter is, as my conversational companion pointed out, she might not have wanted to come because she was worried that by being here she might make things worse.
On the other hand, even if they only came for a few days I would have appreciated it.
So I guess the long story made even longer is that I need to remember that there are those out there callous enough to really think I can just get over this and move on. But that's not me. The fact that they choose to handle their problems that way and that it might work for them, does not mean that it would for me. If they can't understand where I am coming from, no amount wasting my breath trying to explain it will make one iota of difference.
Why is it that God chose to make it that those who love you the most can hurt you the deepest?
As always, please keep praying for Rachl Marmel bat Mindle Hinda Chaya for a speedy and complet pregnancy that ends in a healthy, happy baby.
Thanks for listening.
I quit. I need help. I am sitting here a puddle of tears on my couch. There are some people you can't avoid for various reasons and they never stop hurting you. And you just keep going back for more and more and more punishment. I am a freaking masochist when it comes to this sort of thing. I don't know why I even bother trying.
Lord knows I know other people have their problems, but that does not mean that mine are so simple that "things will get better" and that "I am a fully functioning adult with a family of my own" so therefore I do not need a shoulder, or attention in any way shape or form.
I know I don't matter much in the grand scheme of things, but this is going to be the end of my undoing.
Monday, June 13, 2011
I have decided that in some cases the side effects of the medication are not worth the good they do. One drug in particular I am trying to cut cold turkey- the withdrawal effects may be awful for a few days, but today being day 1 of my experiment I have a supreme headache, but for the first time since I started taking it I can breathe without my mouth drying out, blink without pain, and was able to get out of bed without needing help because my knee joints were so sore.
I am not sure yet if I can expect the withdrawal effects to get worse or better, or at what point they will peak, but day 1 has me achy and shaky, but feeling better overall. The only problem is that it was the one drug that actually seemed to be helping.
Had a huge fight with Jason over it, but I have decided that until someone is living in my shoes they have no right to judge my decisions when it comes to pain management. I am not doing anything dangerous, merely possibly stupid, and I can always go back onto it if the withdrawal effects get to bad.
In other news I am not making any serious plans for the next few days.
This all started because my family doctor was unhappy with the drug and made me feel terrible for still needing drugs at all. I asked her to help me deal with one of the side effects and she responded I should not be on it anymore anyway. While technically I think that is between me and my shrink, it did get me thinking. This is the result.
She was willing to send me for bloodwork to show me that what I thought was going on was probably all in my head. She tacked on what I tend to think of as the "fat lady" panel. Colesteral, tryglicerides etc. Which I had done less than 6 months ago and were all fine. I blacked them out. I did not have them done.
I thought I had finally found a family doctor who accepted who I was despite the numbers on the scale. I guess I was wrong. I went to her for something totally not related, and she just decided, without discussion to tack on the flp even though it has been less than a year since I had it done and everything was fine. Oh, and no, I am not still loosing weight, but I was stable, which I have been told on the drug in question is a minor miracle- so hopefully taking myself off of it will allow me to keep loosing.
In any case, between fighting with her, and fighting with Jason and skipping the first dose of the medication, lets just say yesterday was not my best day in a while.
I am not sure yet if I can expect the withdrawal effects to get worse or better, or at what point they will peak, but day 1 has me achy and shaky, but feeling better overall. The only problem is that it was the one drug that actually seemed to be helping.
Had a huge fight with Jason over it, but I have decided that until someone is living in my shoes they have no right to judge my decisions when it comes to pain management. I am not doing anything dangerous, merely possibly stupid, and I can always go back onto it if the withdrawal effects get to bad.
In other news I am not making any serious plans for the next few days.
This all started because my family doctor was unhappy with the drug and made me feel terrible for still needing drugs at all. I asked her to help me deal with one of the side effects and she responded I should not be on it anymore anyway. While technically I think that is between me and my shrink, it did get me thinking. This is the result.
She was willing to send me for bloodwork to show me that what I thought was going on was probably all in my head. She tacked on what I tend to think of as the "fat lady" panel. Colesteral, tryglicerides etc. Which I had done less than 6 months ago and were all fine. I blacked them out. I did not have them done.
I thought I had finally found a family doctor who accepted who I was despite the numbers on the scale. I guess I was wrong. I went to her for something totally not related, and she just decided, without discussion to tack on the flp even though it has been less than a year since I had it done and everything was fine. Oh, and no, I am not still loosing weight, but I was stable, which I have been told on the drug in question is a minor miracle- so hopefully taking myself off of it will allow me to keep loosing.
In any case, between fighting with her, and fighting with Jason and skipping the first dose of the medication, lets just say yesterday was not my best day in a while.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Had a bit of a moron moment and thought today was Father's Day. Sent out my father's day emails. Gave Jason his gift (well, got it out, will wait for Channah to get home before he can open it, but now that he has seen it I am not going to take it back into hiding. Good Lord what is happening to my brain. It is like being pregnant but without the reward at the end.
I hate that. Seems so often that line floats through my head.
In any case, I am doing a little better than last week. It is a new box of the drug and I think something must be wrong with it as I am reacting really badly to it. Going to see my family doctor today and have a call in to my shrink.
I hate that. Seems so often that line floats through my head.
In any case, I am doing a little better than last week. It is a new box of the drug and I think something must be wrong with it as I am reacting really badly to it. Going to see my family doctor today and have a call in to my shrink.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Oh God. Ran out of resperidone. NOT GOOD. Normally I take it at 7 am and it is now 12:45. Eating everything in sight. I am jittery and have 0 self control. I have now noticed that I am shaking and that I am sad and that my brain is doing that running around inside my skull thing again. Also, I am ready to scream bloody murder at anyone making noise. I am biting my tongue so hard to keep from shrieking at Channah who is doing nothing more than playing nicely with her playmobile that I think I may bite it off. Oh well, at least that way I will stop eating everything else.
Trying gum now. Seriously, I must have gained 200 kg this morning. This is NOT good considering the medication itself leads to weight gain and I had been doing so well. Everyone knows a fat woman is worthless unless she is on a diet (or so I have been told by so many people so much of the time) that I seriously do not want to put any of what I have lost so far back on. Maybe if I keep losing people will treat me like a normal human being instead of like some sort of hideous slob monster who obviously has no self control (which, this morning I don't so they are at least partially right.
Do you ever wonder if your family would love you more if you looked different. I used to but I don't anymore. Now I have no need to wonder because I know it is true. Do you know that one person, one stupid, idiotic person made their first question to me after burring my daughter "so where is your weight holding now without the baby?
Ok so I just hung up the phone but that stupid moronic question is going to stay with me every time I see that person just like the person who told with with my first pregnancy that I was nothing but a fat slob and he hoped I died during childbirth. Never have really looked at him the same way.
Oh lord I am rambling. Have I mentioned any names? No I don't think I have so I should be okay to post this. The two comments above were not from the same person so do not assume you KNOW who must have made them. Cause I can assure you that you are at least partially wrong. Seriously, it is not necessarily who you would suspect.
Yeah. I am fat so I deserve whatever I get right. Losing Gabby was just a punishment in their minds I am sure for the way I look. The medication is just an excuse for anything I do gain back because in truth I have no self control and never excersize (Even though I do a hell of a lot of walking and manual labour for a living!).
Great. Ever notice how other people can make you hate yourself when they are not even there. Ideas can worm their way into your head and become seeds. The seeds germinate and take root and before you know it that tree of self hate has wrapped itself around your brain and you hate yourself even more than the other person hates you.
Funny isn't it how things said to you can hide in your head for years and only come back at the worst possible time. I remember one relative telling me no one would ever date or marry a fat girl. That I would always just be the fat good friend. Well, I proved them wrong didn't I? I got married to a nice guy who loves me for who I am and I do have friends both fat and thin and I still have that comment spin round in my head every time I meet someone new. Are they going ot hate me just because I am so freakishly abnormal.
Do you have any idea how excited I got now that I can but clothing in real stores? Ok, only some stores and some clothing, but I have bought so much in the last few weeks I think I am going to bankrupt us because it is just so darn exciting for me to find clothing that fits for a reasonable price at a normal store!!!
See what I mean by no self control? I can't stop my brain from thinking of all these terrible moments. Of all those people "just trying to help". Now when I am sad and in withdawel those moments come back to me with all the weight they had the first time. AND I CAN'T MAKE THEM STOP!!!
Good lord. The inside of my head is one big fat Rachel Hate-Fest right now AND I AM ENCOURAGING IT. What in the world is wrong with me. I am a lazy brat. Sat around all morning while Jason was at softball watching doctor who, sleeping and playing monkey bloons 4. Yes I know bloons is spelled wrong but that is how the game spells it.
Ok, I think I need to sign off before I start pointing fingers and naming names. God I hope Jason gets home soon with the refil on the medication. Maybe then I can bury the self hate for a while until something brings it up and it becomes like the whomping willow at Hogwarts and kills my broomstick. Who am I kidding. It is never really burried all that deep that I can't find it with anything more than a broom.
Which I do not use anyway since I am such a sob and that is the reason that people will not come visit (ok, one person in particular, but it was enough to have it told to me that apparently I am such a terrible home keeper I am poisoning my guests with mould and dust. I LIVE NEAR A FREAKING QUARRY!!!! How in the word am I supposed to avoid dust. And so sue me I would rather live my life than steralize it! Come shabbat most weeks the place is in good order and everything is fine, no clutter during the week does not bother me. Yes the toilets get cleaned regularly, so do the floors and the fridge and the stove. Just maybe not to THEIR standards.
What is wrong with me? I am like pouring out every vent I have ever had. God hep me no one is ever going to speak to me again. First I told them I was fat (it was a secret you know) now I am saying I am a bad housekeeper. Wow, it is a wonder that I have any friends at all.
Now don't your worry those who actually do like me. I am not planning to hurt myself (even though Jason just called from the pharmacy and they do not have the drug in stock that I need. He is trying other pharmacies). 1) That would put certain people out of their misery of having to know me and 2) It would give all the pall bearers hernias.
AAnd people wonder why I am so bloody negative all the time.
Trying gum now. Seriously, I must have gained 200 kg this morning. This is NOT good considering the medication itself leads to weight gain and I had been doing so well. Everyone knows a fat woman is worthless unless she is on a diet (or so I have been told by so many people so much of the time) that I seriously do not want to put any of what I have lost so far back on. Maybe if I keep losing people will treat me like a normal human being instead of like some sort of hideous slob monster who obviously has no self control (which, this morning I don't so they are at least partially right.
Do you ever wonder if your family would love you more if you looked different. I used to but I don't anymore. Now I have no need to wonder because I know it is true. Do you know that one person, one stupid, idiotic person made their first question to me after burring my daughter "so where is your weight holding now without the baby?
Ok so I just hung up the phone but that stupid moronic question is going to stay with me every time I see that person just like the person who told with with my first pregnancy that I was nothing but a fat slob and he hoped I died during childbirth. Never have really looked at him the same way.
Oh lord I am rambling. Have I mentioned any names? No I don't think I have so I should be okay to post this. The two comments above were not from the same person so do not assume you KNOW who must have made them. Cause I can assure you that you are at least partially wrong. Seriously, it is not necessarily who you would suspect.
Yeah. I am fat so I deserve whatever I get right. Losing Gabby was just a punishment in their minds I am sure for the way I look. The medication is just an excuse for anything I do gain back because in truth I have no self control and never excersize (Even though I do a hell of a lot of walking and manual labour for a living!).
Great. Ever notice how other people can make you hate yourself when they are not even there. Ideas can worm their way into your head and become seeds. The seeds germinate and take root and before you know it that tree of self hate has wrapped itself around your brain and you hate yourself even more than the other person hates you.
Funny isn't it how things said to you can hide in your head for years and only come back at the worst possible time. I remember one relative telling me no one would ever date or marry a fat girl. That I would always just be the fat good friend. Well, I proved them wrong didn't I? I got married to a nice guy who loves me for who I am and I do have friends both fat and thin and I still have that comment spin round in my head every time I meet someone new. Are they going ot hate me just because I am so freakishly abnormal.
Do you have any idea how excited I got now that I can but clothing in real stores? Ok, only some stores and some clothing, but I have bought so much in the last few weeks I think I am going to bankrupt us because it is just so darn exciting for me to find clothing that fits for a reasonable price at a normal store!!!
See what I mean by no self control? I can't stop my brain from thinking of all these terrible moments. Of all those people "just trying to help". Now when I am sad and in withdawel those moments come back to me with all the weight they had the first time. AND I CAN'T MAKE THEM STOP!!!
Good lord. The inside of my head is one big fat Rachel Hate-Fest right now AND I AM ENCOURAGING IT. What in the world is wrong with me. I am a lazy brat. Sat around all morning while Jason was at softball watching doctor who, sleeping and playing monkey bloons 4. Yes I know bloons is spelled wrong but that is how the game spells it.
Ok, I think I need to sign off before I start pointing fingers and naming names. God I hope Jason gets home soon with the refil on the medication. Maybe then I can bury the self hate for a while until something brings it up and it becomes like the whomping willow at Hogwarts and kills my broomstick. Who am I kidding. It is never really burried all that deep that I can't find it with anything more than a broom.
Which I do not use anyway since I am such a sob and that is the reason that people will not come visit (ok, one person in particular, but it was enough to have it told to me that apparently I am such a terrible home keeper I am poisoning my guests with mould and dust. I LIVE NEAR A FREAKING QUARRY!!!! How in the word am I supposed to avoid dust. And so sue me I would rather live my life than steralize it! Come shabbat most weeks the place is in good order and everything is fine, no clutter during the week does not bother me. Yes the toilets get cleaned regularly, so do the floors and the fridge and the stove. Just maybe not to THEIR standards.
What is wrong with me? I am like pouring out every vent I have ever had. God hep me no one is ever going to speak to me again. First I told them I was fat (it was a secret you know) now I am saying I am a bad housekeeper. Wow, it is a wonder that I have any friends at all.
Now don't your worry those who actually do like me. I am not planning to hurt myself (even though Jason just called from the pharmacy and they do not have the drug in stock that I need. He is trying other pharmacies). 1) That would put certain people out of their misery of having to know me and 2) It would give all the pall bearers hernias.
AAnd people wonder why I am so bloody negative all the time.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Started real monitoring today for a new cycle. Never thought when I pregnant with Gabbi that this is where it would lead me. We had decided that 1 was enough. But now that I have had the taste of two I am selfish enough to want more.
On the other hand, how can I want more when lately I am so short tempered with the one that I have?
I am so confused about my parenting it is an unbelievable mess.
On top of that my blood sugars are going insane, we are not sure if it is a result of my phsych medications or not, so I made an appointment with an endocrinologist. I was supposed to wait 6 months before going to see the fertility expert but I made the appointment for early so we could at least talk before I go away.
On the whole, people seem to be right. To some extent time does heal. Then it all come landing back on me with one fell swoop and I am just as hysterical as I was that first day in the hospital. I feel like why am I even bothering to try if God is just going to be able to take it away just as quickly.
I go for reasonably long stretches functioning normally- but then I fall apart. It is like a row of dominoes or a house of cards- standing tenuously ready to trigger an epic collapse at any moment. And I do mean at any moment. Seeing a pregnant woman can bring it on, as can being in a store with baby clothes.
Do you realize that if everything were to go smoothly from this point out, and Iy"H I have a full term pregnancy, I would have been pregnant for 17 of the previous 21 months?
There is just so much random crud going through my head all of the time that I don't know where to stick it a. I guess that is what this blog is for huh? All of you get to read the nuttiness that I normally keep inside my skull.
My gosh I need a Chaya Tova hug. Or a friend. Or just someone who isn't judging me based on any criteria other than "Hey look, you are managing to hold yourself together right this minute! That's awesome! No one expects anything else of you right now." Except they do. It has been more than 3 months. My "mourning period" *should* be coming to an end and I should be rejoining the real world. But how can I when the real world keeps throwing what I am back in my face? Nothing is going smoothly. It is like this nightmare just keeps going and going and going and there is no way that I can pinch myself to wake up.
Ever since February 28th it is like my brain has a mind of it's own (no joke intended) and I have very limited power over what it is going to think about. It decides how I am going to feel and when. It decides who will be allowed in to bring comfort and who won't. Who I will trust and who I will shut out. It has decided we are cycling as so we are- terrified as I am that it will be an epic disaster either way.
I was so close last time before God took it away. Why should I think he would not do it again?
Someone please help me. I am so miserable tonight and I really don't know why. I had a good day. I am catching up on work. Jason and I are mostly getting along well. Channah is thriving. We have a great trip booked for this summer for a wonderful occasion. I have a roof over my head. Food on our plates. Clothes on our backs- and yet I am still miserable. Why? Give me one good reason why I should be sitting here with silent tears running down my face.
Oh right. God took my Gabbi from me without even letting me hold her. Would it have been more compassionate to give me a few minutes with her? I really don't know. But either way he took her and every so often that springs to the forefront of my head and other people might have moved well past it but I haven't. I suspect I never will. I don't think I even want to because then it is like she never was.
Dear God, what if I do manage to get pregnant and he takes another one? The thought is enough to shatter me never mind going through 40 weeks of torture knowing it could all go bely up at any moment.
I will never, ever forgive myself for that night. I will never ever forgive Jason either. And I am terrified it could happen again.
On the other hand, how can I want more when lately I am so short tempered with the one that I have?
I am so confused about my parenting it is an unbelievable mess.
On top of that my blood sugars are going insane, we are not sure if it is a result of my phsych medications or not, so I made an appointment with an endocrinologist. I was supposed to wait 6 months before going to see the fertility expert but I made the appointment for early so we could at least talk before I go away.
On the whole, people seem to be right. To some extent time does heal. Then it all come landing back on me with one fell swoop and I am just as hysterical as I was that first day in the hospital. I feel like why am I even bothering to try if God is just going to be able to take it away just as quickly.
I go for reasonably long stretches functioning normally- but then I fall apart. It is like a row of dominoes or a house of cards- standing tenuously ready to trigger an epic collapse at any moment. And I do mean at any moment. Seeing a pregnant woman can bring it on, as can being in a store with baby clothes.
Do you realize that if everything were to go smoothly from this point out, and Iy"H I have a full term pregnancy, I would have been pregnant for 17 of the previous 21 months?
There is just so much random crud going through my head all of the time that I don't know where to stick it a. I guess that is what this blog is for huh? All of you get to read the nuttiness that I normally keep inside my skull.
My gosh I need a Chaya Tova hug. Or a friend. Or just someone who isn't judging me based on any criteria other than "Hey look, you are managing to hold yourself together right this minute! That's awesome! No one expects anything else of you right now." Except they do. It has been more than 3 months. My "mourning period" *should* be coming to an end and I should be rejoining the real world. But how can I when the real world keeps throwing what I am back in my face? Nothing is going smoothly. It is like this nightmare just keeps going and going and going and there is no way that I can pinch myself to wake up.
Ever since February 28th it is like my brain has a mind of it's own (no joke intended) and I have very limited power over what it is going to think about. It decides how I am going to feel and when. It decides who will be allowed in to bring comfort and who won't. Who I will trust and who I will shut out. It has decided we are cycling as so we are- terrified as I am that it will be an epic disaster either way.
I was so close last time before God took it away. Why should I think he would not do it again?
Someone please help me. I am so miserable tonight and I really don't know why. I had a good day. I am catching up on work. Jason and I are mostly getting along well. Channah is thriving. We have a great trip booked for this summer for a wonderful occasion. I have a roof over my head. Food on our plates. Clothes on our backs- and yet I am still miserable. Why? Give me one good reason why I should be sitting here with silent tears running down my face.
Oh right. God took my Gabbi from me without even letting me hold her. Would it have been more compassionate to give me a few minutes with her? I really don't know. But either way he took her and every so often that springs to the forefront of my head and other people might have moved well past it but I haven't. I suspect I never will. I don't think I even want to because then it is like she never was.
Dear God, what if I do manage to get pregnant and he takes another one? The thought is enough to shatter me never mind going through 40 weeks of torture knowing it could all go bely up at any moment.
I will never, ever forgive myself for that night. I will never ever forgive Jason either. And I am terrified it could happen again.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I just had my first acute heart stopping pain attack in weeks. I was cleaning up for chag and came across one of the last utrasounds of Gabbi- one where she already looked like a baby and you could see how much her profile looked like Channah. She had my brother Josh's nose. God it has not hurt this much in a while now. I don't want to medicate myself as I still need to cook for yom tov but I think I am going to anyway.
I want my baby. She should have been here with me tonight. Jason should have been learning all night with the 3 girls at home. Instead he will be home with me in case I lose it and there are only 2 estrogen based life forms.
Crap I really did not need this today.
On top of that I light a yartzheit candle again tonight for my Gabbi. I do not say yizkor, but the candle is a private declaration of mourning. Lighting that candle is so painfu, but it is a good pain. It is the only thing I, as a mother, can do for my Gabbi and I like to believe she is close to me while it is lit. Pessach time I lit it than sat and sobbed for 45 minutes in front of my candles.
3 months later. Still not pregnant. Still miserable. I have stopped making sure to say my tehillim every night as it does not really appear that God is listening to me anyway. What difference does my stupid little voice make amongst billions anyway. Like he is really listening to sad little me anyway. So many brachot this month. So many signs. My body playing tricks on me, and still nothing. Why is God teasing me like this? What did I do to deserve this sort of pain? I must be a truly awful person to deserve this sort of gut wrenching agony.
And it just keeps coming back when I least expect it. I hate the surprises. My God I so did not need this today.
My Gabbi. My Baby. How did this happen. Everything was going so well. I was supposed to be so happy by now. Recovered from childbirth with a happy 2 month old smiling up at me. Not a bag in my closet with a picture of a dead little girl and her unused hospital tags.
How did I come to be stuck like this? How am I supposed to spend tonight remembering accepting ol malchut shomaayim when I think God hates me. If I were to be asked again I am not so certain that I would say yes. "Take your rules and stuff 'em" seems more accurate right now.
Keep davening please. Not sure it is worth anything, but please keep doing it anyway.
I want my baby. She should have been here with me tonight. Jason should have been learning all night with the 3 girls at home. Instead he will be home with me in case I lose it and there are only 2 estrogen based life forms.
Crap I really did not need this today.
On top of that I light a yartzheit candle again tonight for my Gabbi. I do not say yizkor, but the candle is a private declaration of mourning. Lighting that candle is so painfu, but it is a good pain. It is the only thing I, as a mother, can do for my Gabbi and I like to believe she is close to me while it is lit. Pessach time I lit it than sat and sobbed for 45 minutes in front of my candles.
3 months later. Still not pregnant. Still miserable. I have stopped making sure to say my tehillim every night as it does not really appear that God is listening to me anyway. What difference does my stupid little voice make amongst billions anyway. Like he is really listening to sad little me anyway. So many brachot this month. So many signs. My body playing tricks on me, and still nothing. Why is God teasing me like this? What did I do to deserve this sort of pain? I must be a truly awful person to deserve this sort of gut wrenching agony.
And it just keeps coming back when I least expect it. I hate the surprises. My God I so did not need this today.
My Gabbi. My Baby. How did this happen. Everything was going so well. I was supposed to be so happy by now. Recovered from childbirth with a happy 2 month old smiling up at me. Not a bag in my closet with a picture of a dead little girl and her unused hospital tags.
How did I come to be stuck like this? How am I supposed to spend tonight remembering accepting ol malchut shomaayim when I think God hates me. If I were to be asked again I am not so certain that I would say yes. "Take your rules and stuff 'em" seems more accurate right now.
Keep davening please. Not sure it is worth anything, but please keep doing it anyway.
Monday, June 6, 2011
My GOSH there is just something about both retail therapy and organizing the house/making things pretty that is good for the emotional stability of my brain. Bought a new table cloth that matchees my nice dairy dishes for shavuote. Found perfectly matching napkins at ikea. The whole thing just appeals to my sense of order and style. The table is going to look awesome.
The only tricky moment was walking through the baby section, but I managed to do it without crying and once we were through I was good again.
The only tricky moment was walking through the baby section, but I managed to do it without crying and once we were through I was good again.
I just realized that one of my biggest triggers is talking about our trip to Toronto this summer. In my head from the very first time I heard it might happen it was the time to introduce Gabbi to all the family there who would not have seen her yet. We would have spent our summer surrounded by people wanting to see us, to meet Gabbi, and oooing and ahhhing over the little pink bundle of joy.
We are still going to Toronto, but now we are going exactly the same as we went last year. In fact, when I see people for the first time I expect tears not giggles. Someone else will be getting the oooing and ahhing and "do you need us to sow down a little for you's) (I am THRILLED for her that she does not have our problems, just sad for me that we do).
I did not realize until just now how excited I was to being, for the first time in a long time, one of the centres of attention for something good. Yeah, not the best reason to be grieving I know, but I am the first to admit that while parenting is one of the most altruistic things you an ever possiby do, there is still something in it for yourself when people oooh and ahhh and compliment your child(ren).
As always, please keep davening. Same bat name. Same bat idea.
We are still going to Toronto, but now we are going exactly the same as we went last year. In fact, when I see people for the first time I expect tears not giggles. Someone else will be getting the oooing and ahhing and "do you need us to sow down a little for you's) (I am THRILLED for her that she does not have our problems, just sad for me that we do).
I did not realize until just now how excited I was to being, for the first time in a long time, one of the centres of attention for something good. Yeah, not the best reason to be grieving I know, but I am the first to admit that while parenting is one of the most altruistic things you an ever possiby do, there is still something in it for yourself when people oooh and ahhh and compliment your child(ren).
As always, please keep davening. Same bat name. Same bat idea.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Show went great. Shabbat was really nice, so why am I in such a crabby/stupid/moronic mood today?
Seriously I am stressing over everything (even though I had a really productive day and got all my new website photos done of this season's work and got them all edited and started putting them on line and did some repairs and restructuring to my website). I went for a walk, got in some retail therapy- yet I still feel like I want to kill anyone who comes anywhere near me?
I tried to stick my shoe in my purse and my phone on my foot. I ran out to a doctor at the mercaz before checking to see if the sniff was even open (it wasn't) so started heading over to the other branch before even thinking to call the main line to see if there were any family doctors working in our kupah anywhere in Beit Shemesh at all tonight (there aren't). I tried to stop at a new bakery only to discover they were essentially closed.
Oh, and I found out that it looks like one of the two family doctors who I really like is no longer working at my sniff.
Meantime the blood test results that were supposed to be in today to I could give them to my shrink tomorrow aren't. There is a slim chance they might come in by 9 but if not chances are I will not have them by the time I need them, which means I will not be allowed to keep taking the medication that is actually sort of almost working.
I am full of nervous energy for some reason, feel like I am going to cry. I totally feel like God is playing games with my body right now and I SERIOUSLY DO NOT APPRECIATE IT. I am inisanely furious with the way God is choosing to treat me right now and the next person who tells me God does not give you more than you can handle is going to get shot.
I am, like, so full of nervous energy I am shaking. My blood sugar is going nutty and I have no idea why. I am going to call the endocrinologist tomorrow to try to get an appointment asap as I have no idea what is going on. I have a raging headache, not a migraine, just the headache of a lifetime and my brain feels like it is on speed and running circles around the inside of my skull.
I am at a total loss as to how to calm down. I am frustrated, angry, furious and doing dumb things and all for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON. Yes I know everyone can have a bad day but this is totally getting ridiculous.
I can't make my brain stop doing really dumb things. HELP!!!!
Seriously I am stressing over everything (even though I had a really productive day and got all my new website photos done of this season's work and got them all edited and started putting them on line and did some repairs and restructuring to my website). I went for a walk, got in some retail therapy- yet I still feel like I want to kill anyone who comes anywhere near me?
I tried to stick my shoe in my purse and my phone on my foot. I ran out to a doctor at the mercaz before checking to see if the sniff was even open (it wasn't) so started heading over to the other branch before even thinking to call the main line to see if there were any family doctors working in our kupah anywhere in Beit Shemesh at all tonight (there aren't). I tried to stop at a new bakery only to discover they were essentially closed.
Oh, and I found out that it looks like one of the two family doctors who I really like is no longer working at my sniff.
Meantime the blood test results that were supposed to be in today to I could give them to my shrink tomorrow aren't. There is a slim chance they might come in by 9 but if not chances are I will not have them by the time I need them, which means I will not be allowed to keep taking the medication that is actually sort of almost working.
I am full of nervous energy for some reason, feel like I am going to cry. I totally feel like God is playing games with my body right now and I SERIOUSLY DO NOT APPRECIATE IT. I am inisanely furious with the way God is choosing to treat me right now and the next person who tells me God does not give you more than you can handle is going to get shot.
I am, like, so full of nervous energy I am shaking. My blood sugar is going nutty and I have no idea why. I am going to call the endocrinologist tomorrow to try to get an appointment asap as I have no idea what is going on. I have a raging headache, not a migraine, just the headache of a lifetime and my brain feels like it is on speed and running circles around the inside of my skull.
I am at a total loss as to how to calm down. I am frustrated, angry, furious and doing dumb things and all for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON. Yes I know everyone can have a bad day but this is totally getting ridiculous.
I can't make my brain stop doing really dumb things. HELP!!!!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
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