Wishing you courage

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying 'I will try again tomorrow'."
- Mary Anne Radmacher

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Blog anniversary

My blog is two years old today :)

This is kind of sacred territory - still hidden from the people that I know in real life but it doesn't exactly feel anonymous anymore since I feel so close to fellow babylost bloggers and some of you are fb friends. Anniversaries seem like a time of reflection but I can't sum up the past two years neatly. It's like the answer isn't known yet.

Baby died = devastating
Husband left = betrayal and shame on top of devastation
Figured out how to take care of myself = housemates, boyfriend, therapy, antidepressants

Devastation + betrayal and shame - learning independence = ?
Has it all balanced out yet?

But the really important parts of the journey don't have words yet. Am I ok with the baby dying and my husband leaving? It feels like events that sad and life altering leave a permanent imprint on your soul and body. Time and antidepressants and new love ease the anguish but the memories are still so fresh. Dividing the line between being sunk in sorrow and being a capable adult again is this huge wall built of "Once the Universe decided that my baby would die", "Once I held my son and knew that I would do anything to protect him and that loving him was what I was on Earth to do, and then his body went to the morgue while I left the hospital cradling his memory box", "Once my husband left me without warning and I was so alone, so embarrassed, and so lost that I tried to kill myself and was taken to a mental hospital, involuntarily, in the back of a police car".

The stories of "I knew someone who bled through their entire pregnancy and the baby was fine", "I knew someone who had a scary ultrasound and their baby was fine", "I knew someone whose baby was sick but we all prayed and the baby turned out fine" don't apply here. And no one tells tales of "I knew someone who loved their baby as much as you love yours and hers died". Those life stories are silenced until they have no importance in life away from a grief blog or support group. Those life changing, beyond important stories, are silenced.

Leaning on that wall is where I remain. I am capable of doing so much in terms of being a "normal person" but not everyday; some days I'm back to feeling so sick that I can't possibly leave the house. Going out to see anyone from "before" other than my closest friends is not even considered anymore. I have a wonderful boyfriend but I can't tell him that I love him. That level of commitment is simply not safe.

Love is not safe. But love is the most beautiful thing in life. How can one release themselves to love after learning that what you love dearly can be ripped away?


Ooops, I meant to tell you about other things, fun things, and show garden photos. I meant to comment on the progress made from the beginning of this blog so that others would know that healing is possible. Snuggle bunny is here which means it's time to perk up, so real fast:

I thought this Clematis was dead two years ago but check out the mass of blooms it has this year.

Squash blossom

Fading yucca blooms - these flowers are amazing
This is what I'm listening to - fun, energetic music :D

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Prelude to divorce #2

I guess that last email from him provided the inspiration needed to clean out the garage a bit. Every so often I'll tidy things up and toss things out in the garage but mere weeks later what remains never fails to explode, leaving memorabilia of a marriage as shrapnel. After deciding that I definitely should toss the candle holder that he made in high school into the donation bag at the last minute it ended up being set aside to consider later. It's not just memories of our marriage left behind, it's memories of our respective childhoods.

I remember using that candle stick in his room that was in the basement of his mother's home. We spent countless hours together in that room and when things became too strained at my house I moved in to his room. Was that the first time that he rescued me? No... we had known each other too long by then, but it's the memory that stands out now. When we were teenagers I viewed him as so safe and gentle; I was sure that he would never hurt me the way my mother had been treated by her husbands. It was like striking gold and I clung to him - he was my ticket to a secure lifestyle. I believed that we would live our entire lives together and even if we divorced one day it was inconceivable that we would not have regular contact. He was my best friend. I loved him and believed in him. I was 22 when we married.

Hindsight can hurt so much sometimes.

Considering the situations I lived in while a minor, it's clear why a marriage to such a private person was not only acceptable but something to be proud of. Years ticked by and our marriage lasted longer than some of our parents marriages (they were all married quite a few times). We were going to make recent family tree history by growing old together. Frequently others would say they wanted a relationship like we had.

Somewhere along the way things started to change and it was so gradual that I guess neither one of us noticed how wrong things were becoming. He became more secretive; I started to act erratically and loneliness and jealously towards the women he would spend so much alone time with led to huge crying spells. He would be able to explain everything and over time I became the emotional and unpredictable one. I needed to be cared for; he wanted to "fix" me.

He later said that he could never make me happy, that it was impossible for him to fix me. And he was right, but not because I was beyond repair.


His email included a reminder that I got everything - the house, furniture, the weird/cool household maintenance tools that he deemed unimportant enough to leave behind: rakes, a few screwdrivers, box cutter, socket thingies, but where is the part they snap into?

I did end up with all of these items but only because he left them/us behind. While he was moving out, when asked about what he wanted to take, my pummeled heart received another punch when he didn't want much. It was like he wanted no memories of the "us" portion of his life to follow him on to greener pastures. Why is he now saying between the lines that I'm ungrateful for making use of the objects he rejected? That's much easier to answer than "how is it possible that we matured into our 30's in such different directions?"


Sifting through the garage odds and ends was unfortunately short lived. Where health is concerned, you will not believe the series of events during my blogging hiatus but it is indeed all true.

3 weeks ago a day long fever evolved into conjunctivitis in both eyes, laryngitis for 5 days and a round of antibiotics (I was negative for strep at this time). Instead of getting better my throat became even more sore. Today my health care provider diagnosed a viral infection AND a strep infection. Already this round of antibiotics is helping. Since I was sent home from work until 24 hours of antibiotics were completed and I don't feel that bad besides a cough and raw throat, it seemed like a great time to tidy the garage. I kid you not after about 30 minutes I tripped over an extension cord (so essentially nothing) and landed hard on my knee onto the concrete floor. It didn't swell up too bad (I say this even though almost all of the definition of my knee is gone, despite hours of ice and ibuprofen) so I'm waiting before seeing a doctor but walking is painful and since I'm in cootie isolation SnuggleBunny can't come over to help me.

My blogging hiatus was intended to be all about action and experiences and while I have had some great times, the Universe seems to want me to be still. So here I am, reluctantly acquiescing to a period of rest. It's frustrating but my spirits are oddly good! Things are not going as planned, I have been in minor pain and tired for 3 weeks, I've replaced contact lenses, mascara, and toothbrushes, bought new glasses (easing the insult of pink eye by replacing glasses that were a nearly decade old), I may have messed up my knee (cross your fingers that it will just be a bad bruise), I have missed work, I am adjusting to a higher dose of wel.bu.trin. But also I'm not sinking into depression or becoming engulfed with anger when I think about how difficult my husband is being. He is simply behaving as he often did by ignoring me until responding in a demeaning manner and defending himself, but instead of following the habit of negative reaction I think "this is how he is, why would I expect anything else?"

I wish he could really hear me but it is impossible. Anyway, that's all for tonight.