Healing - Week 1

Physical Healing

The most difficult part this week was not the bleeding or muscle soreness or even the milk coming in, it was having to stay busy without being physically active. It seemed every time I pushed myself my bleeding got worse, and I would have to lay back down starring at the ceiling, having nothing to do but think. Those who know me well know how dangerous that is.

Having said that, the physical healing was, and continues to be a bit of a challenge.

The first few days weren't as bad as I expected them to be. Emotionally it was very difficult but physically, other than exhaustion and stiffness, I felt OK. The bleeding was under control, the IV bruising started healing, my headaches were going away. Then the milk came in....

Milk coming in is excruciating painful when your need to let it pass. Your hormones try their best to convince you that you should be breastfeeding an infant. Normally a mother would welcome this milestone. In cases like mine, you count the days until it's over, applying ice packs, avoiding showers and losing sleep because of the discomfort. It's especially difficult because everyone wants to give you hugs and even the slightest of pressure makes you feel like veins will break and skin will tear.

Luckily, the worse of the pain only lasted 3-4 days.

I am guessing that the same hormones that made the milk come in then try to shrink your uterus back to its normal size , giving you cramps and ejecting any foreign tissue or blood clots along the way (I realize this may be too much information for some). It's not as bad as it sounds, I didn't take any pain relief medication because I wanted to feel how it was progressing.

It's been over a week now and I think most of the bleeding is over. When I press below my navel it feels like it did before I was pregnant. It's with both relief and great sadness that I find my body returning back to the person I was before our little boy came along.

Emotional Healing

The grieving process has been very confusing. It is hard to allow yourself to feel sad when it was your decision. It is hard to grieve a little boy that never was. What you grieve for instead are the dreams you had for him. You grieve the vision you had of yourself as a parent. If it wasn't for the fact I held him in my arms I wouldn't know who to grieve.

I go through what-if scenarios, I doubt my decision, I feel horrible, I feel relieved, I feel horrible because I feel relieved. Then I have a moment where I feel things will be OK. It is quickly followed by the dread that I might not be coping correctly, that I will spiral back into grief forever. Some days I fear the opposite, that I will forget him with time. I already feel disconnected with the picture of me holding our boy. I want to go back there and see his face again, feel the strangely serene emotions that overtook me as I was holding him.

I cry often...I cried when I put away my maternity clothing and books, I cried when I filled his memory box with little things I had bought for him...I will surely cry again when I pick up his ashes from the funeral home. I already know Christmas will be difficult and that February 23rd will be a sad reminder of a milestone that will never be. There are still a lot of tears to come. I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

On a side note, I read that a lot of grieving mothers have a hard time being around pregnant women or babies. I seem to be OK with it. I suppose everyone deals differently. What I do find extremely difficult is seeing parents being rudely impatient with their children. Then again, I felt that way before as well...it has just intensified. I know I will crack and do the same one day but right now, it just seems to me like everyone who has healthy children should consider themselves lucky and not sweat the small stuff.

Grieving without Faith

I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the kind that we experience in ourselves. Neither can I nor would I want to conceive of an individual that survives his physical death; let feeble souls, from fear or absurd egoism, cherish such thoughts. I am satisfied with the mystery of the eternity of life and with the awareness and a glimpse of the marvelous structure of the existing world, together with the devoted striving to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the Reason that manifests itself in nature. (Albert Einstein, The World as I See It)

Many who have faith in a supreme being can't imagine how difficult it must be to accept death without the promise of an afterlife. Death and spirituality often go hand in hand.

Now that I have lost a child, I can see how picturing my little boy in a happy place looking after me could be comforting. It is a romantic idea. However, it is not part of my belief system.

It's not my belief that this happened for a reason. It's not my belief that this was part of some elaborate plan. It's not my belief that my boy is still consciously alive somewhere.

What I believe is that he lives through me and through Francis because we will remember him always. I believe I can always call on him and talk to him through the emotions and memories he stirs inside me.   I believe that what my boy and I had to go through was an unfortunate coincidence rather than some divine planned out event.

Believing this certainly makes it easier to heal. There is less guilt, less anger, less feeling of being dejected when you know genetic anomalies is a natural part of life,  that the odds just sucked this time around,  that there was nothing you did that caused this to happen.

Just as many find solace in a supreme being , I find solace in believing we are truly free, masters of our own fate. It is with that belief that I will continue to heal.

Tips on Surviving the First Week

• Watch baby-free movies. No tear jerkers. No chick flicks. I dove into the Harry Potter series.
• Visit http://www.aheartbreakingchoice.com/. Yes you'll cry but it will be good "hey I'm not alone" tears.
• Don't rush into having people over. You need alone time. Lots of it.
• Accept help graciously. 
• Eat well. This is not the time to punish your body. If you don't feel like cooking, see point above.
• Sleep well. If you find this difficult because of pain, consider medication.
• Get fresh air. Walk in a natural environment if you can, even if just a little bit. 
• Remember you are still alive. Do a little something you love every day.
• Take this tragedy as an opportunity to grow, to strive to live a better life. Honor your child through positive change.
• Understand things will get better and be reassured you will never forget your child. If you must, establish new family rituals that will reassure you of that fact.