Progress

I wanted to really make a note of the progress that I have made.  That was my original intention with the previous post.  But then before I got the chance to rethink my journey thus far, I slipped back a bit.

Here goes...

Initially I felt numb.  It's hard to describe that state of fogginess.  I understood what was happening, but I did not believe it was actually happening to me.  There were many moments during that day that I almost felt like I was watching the scenes from a movie.  Maybe it was the drugs they were giving me to help with the labor pains, but maybe it was just a coping mechanism.  I felt very removed from the situation.

Once I saw her I felt overwhelming sadness mixed in with the numb fogginess.  I cried more than I thought possible.  I didn't know what to do or how to feel.  Part of me just wanted to run away, part of me wanted to freeze time so I would never have to let her go.  I didn't know what to expect...I was scared of what she would look like...I didn't know if I wanted to hold her.  I was very guarded with my heart at first, but I was already so head-over-heals in love with her there was no real way to protect myself .

The next emotion I felt was brokenness.  They exact moment I had to lay her in her bassinet and walk away felt like she was being ripped from my arms.  Tears are welling in my eyes as I write this because that was the most painful moment of all.  I was the one who laid her down, but it felt like she was being forced out of my arms.  That was the last time I held her.  My heart broke in that moment.  And then I had to leave the Family Birth Center.  Without a baby.  That's just not natural.

The emotion following was aggravation/annoyance.  The nurse was trying to make small talk with me as we waited for Joel to pull up with the van.  She mentioned something about the weather and blah, blah, blah.  SHUT UP!  DO YOU REALIZE THAT MY BABY JUST DIED AND I AM GOING HOME EMPTY HANDED.  I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE WEATHER!  This is what my heart is screaming, but instead I just nod my head and will Joel to pull up.  I did not realize how often I would continue to have this feeling; even with the most well-meaning people.

That night I was relieved to be home.  Things somehow felt normal there.  It was me and my husband and my kids...just like the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that.  She was never really part of our daily routines...it wasn't the whole "some one's missing at the dinner table" thing.  Denial set in.  I honestly thought I might wake up the next morning and feel normal.  Like it was all a bad dream, or just a bad day.  But the next morning felt anything but normal.  It was all so surreal.  Going to the funeral home to make arrangements when I should have still been at the hospital getting to know my new baby.  The next few days went on like that.  Just feeling so much like, "This is not really happening to me."  I was thankful for the business of planning funeral stuff though.  It kept my mind occupied.

After the memorial service was over I panicked.  Now what?  What am I going to do now?  How am I going to get through the next day?  It was all over.  We had buried her body and celebrated her short life.  Was I now supposed to carry on a normal life?  It was so overwhelming.  Joel was off work for another week and we tried to keep life as normal as possible for the kids.  We took a trip to the zoo and that was the first time I was confronted with my emotions when seeing newborn babies and pregnant women.  I felt like they were everywhere.  I saw a woman pick a tiny baby up out of a stroller.  Her legs were still curled in like she was still not used to life outside of her mother's womb.  My heart sank.  Then I saw another women sitting on a bench nursing her newborn baby.  Was this not supposed to be me right now?  What happened?  How did things go so wrong?  I did not want to be envious of women with babies...and that has proven to be a hard bridge to cross.

After Joel went back to work it was back to reality for me too.  I still had to take care of my two living children.  I felt as if I was going through the motions.  At first my children were my only source of joy, but by the time Joel went back to work I began getting frustrated with them.  The guilt set in big time.  I wanted to work on Harper's scrapbook and I would snap at them when they were demanding things from me.  I just wanted them to leave me alone.  It hurts so much to bring back these feelings.  I still loved my kids, but I needed time to grieve.  I did not know how to keep being a mom when I was hurting so much.  There were so many nights that I would tuck them in and I would look at them and think "What have I even done with you today?  Did I even talk to you or read to you?"  And then I would lay in my bed and cry.  The internal tug-of-war was exhausting.  I felt guilty for not being a good mom to them, but I didn't know what else to do at the time.  I needed to grieve Harper; I knew that.  It took a long time to find that balance of grief but still enjoying time with my children.  This is one area that I know I have made tons of progress.  I thought for sure I was going to miss out on their entire childhoods, or that they would somehow be forever scarred by the lack of emotion they received from me, but that phase was short-lived.

I also experienced a lot of joy when I thought about Harper.  I would look at her pictures over and over and just marvel at how beautiful she was.  I knew she was something special and I knew she had a great purpose even if she never took a breath of air.  I wanted everyone to know about her.  The cashier at Wal-Mart, the pharmacist at Shopko...any random stranger that glanced my way.  I wanted them all to know about my beautiful daughter in Heaven.  Most of the time I resisted the urge to tell everyone, but as time wears on I don't hold back as much.  I feel great relief when I talk about Harper.  Even if people don't really want to hear about her I want to talk about her...and so I share.  It makes me so much happier if I can talk about her, as apposed to situations where I don't feel like others really want to know.  Its kinda like the elephant in the room...I'd rather talk about her.

The next phase I experienced was the endless "why" questions.  I replayed my pregnancy over and over, trying to figure out what I missed or where things went wrong.  I thought somehow I had the capabilities to go back and do it all over.  "I should have been more vocal with my concerns."  "I should have demanded a NST (non-stress test)."  "I should have called the minute I realized she wasn't moving."  And on and on and on.  I would research things on-line and get myself even more worked up.  All of the would-a, should-a, could-a's became tormenting.  I had to just let it go.  That was when I did a lot of God-searching.  What did I really believe about God and his sovereignty?  Let it go...I knew he was in control.  I knew that from the beginning of time he knew there was going to be a little girl named Harper who would be born still in 2010.  He knew it all along...before he even created the heavens and the earth...HE KNEW.  And he was in control.  And as much as I wish I could turn back the hands of time...I can't.  As much as I replayed it, the outcome was always the same.  She is gone.  Nothing will bring her back.  I had to accept this and let it go.

This was the point when the denial faded and I was faced with the black-and-white reality.  I had a baby and my baby died.  I would say it over and over again.  Just to remind my self it was real.  I had a baby and my baby died.  That was when I knew I had to embrace the grieving process...I had to let myself feel the pain.  I think I had always relied on some false hope that somehow I could hurry up and grieve and get on with my life.  I now accepted the fact that this was something that was not ever going to go away.  For as long as I live there will always be a little girl named Harper who is missing from my life.  I will be one of those little old ladies on my death bed who says "Now I can go meet my baby."

I would have to say that the latest phase I have been dealing with is the one place I said I would never go.  But somehow it found me anyway.  ANGER/RESENTMENT/BITTERNESS.  I never wanted to deal with this uglier side of loss.  I didn't know I couldn't really control that though.  I feel like the closeness I felt with God in the beginning has started to diminish and then the anger creeps in.  And that scares me.  I don't want to be angry with God.  I don't want to question what he was thinking.  But it has happened anyway.  I'm not giving up on him and I know he's not giving up on me.  I still believe all of his promises are true, even I can't make any sense of them.  I long for that all-consuming presence again.  That feeling of being safe in his arms again.  I have to keep plugging forward in my relationship with him to get to that place again, and then I feel that the bitterness with subside. 

Its amazing when I look back at all I have been through in four and a half months.  The initial fog has lifted.  I'm not consumed by sadness anymore.  I enjoy my kids like I used too.  I'm dealing with my loss instead of denying it.  I am making progress...I have come a long way in a relatively short amount of time.  I'm sorry this is such a long post, but I had to do it for me.  I had to put in perspective where I've come from.  And how much God has carried me through.  I know he loves me.  I know his plans are good.  I trust him that he will continue to carry me through...through this rocky phase I am in...through the next leg of the journey...through the season of grief all the way to the season of dancing!