Panic attacks

I used to deal with extreme anxiety.  There was a period of time in my life, my freshman year of college, that I had chronic nightmares and panic attacks so bad that they were waking nightmares.  Thankfully, that's gone now.  Comparatively, I have virtually no anxiety now.  Though, compared to a "normal" person, I probably have them more often.

For instance, yesterday Patrick woke me up at 7am.  I had a chiropractor appointment at 10, so at a little after 8, I decided to take a shower.  I took Patrick in with me so that he wouldn't get into anything while I was busy.  During the shower, I peaked out at the clock.  It was nearly 8:40, and I thought to myself "Wow, Erin's sleeping late, I hope she's okay."

I guess you can call these my "famous last words."  Within minutes, I was having mental images of walking into Erin's room to check on her and finding her cold.  She's 3, well past the age of SIDS risk, but still.  I quickly rinsed out my hair, wrapped myself in my towel and left Patrick in my tub as I all but ran (wet and dripping) to her room.

I woke her up checking on her.  She's fine.

But before that, I was crying I was so sure that my other baby girl had died too.

Right now, typing this, it feels a bit ridiculous.  She did the same thing this morning, but thankfully I managed to avoid the panic attack.  Maybe it's a new schedule.  Maybe it's just a growth spurt.

I hate that at every small change I react like that.

Cora's songs on the radio

So, the other day one of the songs on my Cora playlist came on the radio.  During the beginning I was musing on how little time I got with her.  How it wasn't enough.  I regretted failing her, not being able to give her more time here on earth.  You know, mommy guilt stuff.

Anyway, the song was If I Die Young by The Band Perry, and one particular line hit me really hard:


Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She'll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
ain't even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time




It felt like she was telling me it was okay.  I mean, I know it wasn't my fault, but sometimes it's good to know that she doesn't blame me.

envy or jealousy?

In loss support forums there are a lot of ladies who discuss jealousy.  I usually don't mention it, because I use the word jealousy, too, but it's the wrong word.

When I was in college, I took a Shakespeare course.  One of the plays we studied was Othello.  For those who don't know the play, it focuses a lot on Othello's suspicions that his wife, Desdemona, is being unfaithful.  It ends with him killing her in a jealous rage and then killing himself.  It truly is a tragic play.

One of the days of the week we studied that play was focussed entirely on the difference between jealousy and envy.  Our society has pretty much stopped using the word envy, and therefore jealousy has taken on its meaning.  But it comes down to this:

Jealousy is when you are afraid of someone else taking what you have.

Envy is when you want what someone else has.

Baby loss moms cannot be jealous of pregnant women and new mothers.  We are not afraid that they will take what we have.  We have already lost what it is we want so much.

We envy them.

And even now I battle envy.  I have 2 beautiful children, but I still can't help but envy women I see shopping in the baby section of stores.  I envy that happy expectation that they have on their faces.  I envy being able to say "when" instead of "if."

When it's at its worst, I remind myself that I don't know that woman's history.  Maybe she finally reached full term after several miscarriages.  Maybe she battled years of infertility to finally make it to where she is right now.  Maybe this baby is her rainbow baby after a stillbirth and she's forcing herself to be happy so she won't feel the anxiety crashing in on her as her loss date draws near.  Maybe, just maybe.  I hate imagine those things happening to others, but in the end it helps me to remember that she deserves to be happy about her baby too, no matter what her story.

Was it worth it?

I've spoken before about how insanely sick I get when pregnant, especially when I was pregnant with Cora.  And whenever I talk about pregnancies with friends I usually at some point I say "but the babies are worth it."

But that line inevitably gets me to thinking about the horrid pregnancy from which I didn't get the baby.  I think the fact that I was so incredibly sick with her is the final thing that makes me so bitterly angry that I just can't get past.  It just seems like so much of a crime that it shouldn't be possible that someone can be as sick as I was for 38 weeks and not take the baby home.

So, obviously my sickness with Erin and Patrick were worth it.  But was it with Cora?

Obviously I wish I could have taken her home. Or at least that the universe could have made my pregnancy and easy breezy one.

But I truly believe that the people you love the most are the ones you sacrifice the most for, and the more you are willing to sacrifice for them, the more you come to love them.  And that sacrifice and that love changed me forever.

Yes, my pregnancy with Cora was worth it in the end, because even if I didn't get to take her home, I got Cora. And even if I'm wrong and I will never get to see her again, I would rather have had the sickness, the love and the grief then never have had her at all.

In this instance, I truly believe it is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.  I wouldn't give it up for anything.

Making people feel bad

It's interesting how innocent comments people make are hurtful.  They don't know my history, so they don't know what it does to me.

Stake conference was yesterday at church, so there was a lot more traffic in the church parking lot than usual, since EVERYONE in the area was there.  I had my hand on Erin's shoulder as I herded her through the lot, saying "Stay close to me Erin, let's not get hit by a car!"

A lady I didn't know passed me with her teenaged daughter, smiled at Erin, and said "Oh, but then you'd got straight to Heaven! Your mom wouldn't have to worry about you being a teenager!" And then gave her daughter a joking smile.  It was meant to be one of those good-natured parental jabs at their teenager, that's all.

But I admit, all the breath was nearly sucked out of me, and I almost burst into tears right there.  I can't even describe to people what thinking of Erin dying does to me.

I said, "No thank you, I've already done that once, I would really prefer NOT to do that again."

Her eyes went really wide in shock, and she opened her mouth, for an apology probably, but Erin decided to run ahead of me at that point and I had to chase her.


I almost feel bad when I do that to people.  They certainly don't mean to do it.

I almost feel bad.

Catistrophization

In the season premier of Parenthood this week, one of the mothers is explaining to her daughter why she is being so crazily irrational over her learning how to drive.  She uses the word "catistrophization" and explains that it's the word her husband made up for when she gets into the mode of seeing the worst and not being able to get out of it.

It's anxiety, really, and I think that the character would benefit greatly from medication.

But it made me think of those times in my life when I catistrophize.  When I have a friend or family who is pregnant and I'm just waiting for the phone call to tell me that the baby died.  When my children sleep too long and I have to go check and see if they're still breathing, even my 3-year-old.  When I follow Patrick closely as he's climbing up the stairs outside because I can just SEE him falling in my mind, and it's all I can do to not pick him up and just carry him up.  When I hold my breath to hear from Matt after he takes a plane somewhere, so that I can know it didn't crash on the way there.

I was this way before Cora died.  I'm worse now.  It's not debilitating, it's just a constant worry.  I manage to suppress it most of the time, or rationalize my way out of it (which takes a LOT of mental energy, by the way!).  I don't keep my kids inside all the time to keep them safe.  I let them do things on their own.

But sometimes....it's just so hard not to expect the worst all the time.

What should be

Many times in the last couple of months I've gotten the question "well, shouldn't Erin be in preschool this year?"

Every time I've wanted to answer, "No.  Cora would have been.  Erin's a year younger."

*sigh*  It's a good thing Erin will be starting preschool next year.  Maybe it'll distract me from the fact that Cora would have been starting kindergarten.


I hate that this awareness of what SHOULD be follows me around.  It's not like a spend a lot of time thinking about it, but sometimes it just hits me.

For instance, I teach the 6-year-old primary Sunday school class at church.  Sitting on the row in front of us during our Sharing Time meeting are the Sunbeams.  They're the children who turned 4 this year.  Last Sunday as I was sitting there with my class I suddenly realized that Cora should be sitting on that row.  It's a good thing that they were singing a really sweet song so that I could cover up the reason I was crying.  It was so hard to look at those children after that.  I've been teaching this class since May, so I've gotten to know them a little bit, but now that I have connected that they are all Cora's age....just hurts.  Hopefully it won't hurt so much again this coming Sunday.


I miss her a lot today.