I met some friends and we came up with a plan

So I belong to this support group online of other (mostly) moms who have had to make a Heartbreaking Choice like I did. It is an AMAZING site and it has been helpful ever since we got our poor prenatal diagnosis. However, I know the value of "real life" support groups, so that was one of the first things I had on my list of things to do upon recovery from my procedure. I asked a nurse that was helping me for the gestational diabetes I developed during the pregnancy to have a social worker friend call me with a list of groups through our hospital. She gave me the name of one, which I looked forward to attending. I showed up at the appointed date and time, only to find it had been disbanded for lack of a facilitator. I was, to say the least, devastated. I had really gotten my hopes up that I would be able to meet other people like me in my same situation; who knew exactly how I felt; and who could possibly give me some experience, strength, and hope until the next time the group met again. That I wouldn't be able to meet these people deflated me. I cried in the car on the way home. I love my online circle of women, but . . . I just knew there were people out there in my area who had had the experience I was seeking.

So I went online to the group, and I posted this:

dulcemija wrote:

---

So it has been about a week and a half since our HC. I was set to attend a grief support group in my area tonight, only I showed up and was not able to find it. Upon asking one of the people in the lobby where it was, I was told it hasn't met for many weeks because they don't have a facilitator.

I love this board, but I find it helpful to meet with people in person, too. I was bummed that it wasn't available and that alone made me start crying on the way home.

Anyone know of a support group in the Orange County, CA area?

Thanks for letting me vent.

Luckily, there were women who responded to my post and who were willing to make a date with me to meet in person.

And we met on Sunday!

Just to be able to talk to other women, without having to explain anything, without having to wonder if I can be totally honest or if I have to hold back for fear of offending someone, was a MIRACLE. When I said something, one or all would nod their heads with agreement, or add in their two cents' worth of experience. It was fantastic. We met for about two and a half hours; I was on a high as I drove home. I felt SO good. We agreed we would like to meet again, perhaps in September, and we will keep in touch in the meantime.

We also devised a little game for ourselves. One of the things that has been very painful for us to deal with -- other than seeing pregnant women everywhere, and other than seeing little babies in strollers -- is seeing Pro-Life stickers on cars. None of us made our decisions callously, so seeing stickers on cars that lumps us in with others who made abortions for other reasons, is hard. We decided we will do one of two things when we see such stickers: (1) Take a picture of our finger flipping off the sticker and post it to our online support site in a thread that others can add to [with their own pictures]; or (2) Cover up the sticker with pink duct tape [on sale at Joann's for $4.99] and take a picture of it to post to said site.

I went out and bought my pink duct tape yesterday; my camera has been in my purse/bag for about two days. I am on the lookout. Who will post first? I saw one sticker as DH was driving along yesterday (he is home from business) but, as we were moving, I was unable to carry out our plan. My eyes are peeled everywhere I go.

More later . . .

My Two Cents on a Few Things

I know I haven't posted here in a few days . . . I guess I haven't felt that there was anything significant to write about. So here's my thoughts on a bunch of things. Some of the things I have to say are actual copies of postings I made on a site that I visit for support. Here goes:

(1) There's the pregnancy ladies that I see out and about when I'm doing errands. Some of them are so big they're about to deliver, and I think [a] how lucky for them that they obviously haven't received a poor prenatal diagnosis . . . the baby in there is normal . . . mine wasn't and I'm horribly jealous; or [b] Mija, what are you thinking? The baby in there might not be normal but she's carrying to term. Stop jumping to conclusions that all is fine and have pity, for *** sake!

(2) Dear daughter, DD, asked me yesterday, "How is your baby feeling mom?" I was kinda taken aback, and every time she asks me questions in her newly-four-year-old about the baby I get a little heartsick, but I tried to answer in an upbeat manner. I said, "Well, I think he's doing pretty good, considering he's with God, and that's a great place to be." She agreed. She asks me a question about once a week, and at first I started crying, but yesterday was a milestone that I didn't.

(3) In response to a woman who posted about how sad she was about that today was her due date, I wrote: "My heart aches for you and I am thinking of you. I am not at my c-section date (what I was going to have) yet, but I am not looking forward to it. I know, though, that these wonderful people on here will help me through it. Wishing you peace and a freedom from anxiety about your decision."

(4) In response to the post, "How is your husband grieving?" I wrote:

dulcemija wrote:

---

I also want to say "thank you" to J- for his 2 cents . . . it helps!

As for my DH, from the second we got our poor prenatal diagnosis, he was there for me. We were "in it together" as LeLe said. Since I was so non-functioning and emotional, he got to be very action-oriented, which was good for him. He is very much a "take care of things" kind of DH. We held it in all day and faced what we needed to face, but as the sun was setting and all tasks were done for the day, we would sit together on our living room couch and talk and/or cry and let it all out--let out all we felt we couldn't around other people in the "normal" world. It was the same in the days that he was home with me right after our HC. He took bereavement leave at work, so we were home and could talk and do things together, and he could calm me down when I was crying those bitter tears. We knew, and we talked about the fact that, we had to be completely open and honest with our feelings and just say stuff out loud rather than keep it in our own heads (where mine usually resides when I'm not emoting), otherwise we wouldn't not get out of this on the other side for the better.

We're a little over a month out from our HC, and things are settling down a bit. I took off work for an extended time, so I've been home and will be until August. In my time at home during the day is when I'll cry . . . I don't want to cry in front of him. Sometimes he feels like he needs to fix it and make me stop, when I just need to cry. But, like the deal Depal and her DH came up with . . . I'll tell him, "I had a bad cry today." That day almost two weeks ago when I felt like I was feeling pretty good and then had the floor dropped out from under me . . . he came home and I immediately told him, "I need to sit with you. I need you to hold me. I had a Very Bad Day today." Likewise, one day when he was driving home and he saw something that just triggered something for him, he did the same. He came home, and he said, "I just need to hug you for a while. I had a trigger."

I am the one who is downloading grief podcasts and researching an "in real life" support group in my area and finding this site . . . I tell him about all that I do. I asked if he wanted to attend the support group with me in a few weeks (no); I told him about our site, which he thinks is great, but which he didn't show an indication to wanting to join. I guess I keep "checking in" with him . . . ? He doesn't show much of an interest in that stuff; he prefers to play his video games, which I know is his way of dealing with stuff. (Luckily, I knew that before this all happened . . . he's even tried to extoll the benefits to me of gaming thinking it would help ME(!) deal with things . . . so, okay, I have Guitar Hero III and The Sims now, which I actually DO enjoy playing.)

I still think I'm the one who will tend to bring up and start the "talk" more, but he will talk once I do. And, on his trigger moments, he'll start the talk with me, which makes me feel so good that I can be of comfort to him because I know it is hard to talk about. But all the other stuff, I just keep asking if he wants to be a part of it every once in a while.

I don't know if that helps.

(5) In response to a woman struggling with anxiety and panic after her HC, I wrote:

dulcemija wrote:

---

** TTC, LC mentioned ***

Hi there . . . (HUGS) . . . I *hate* anxiety SO much . . .

Like A_, I have lived with it for most of my life. I had my first devastating panic attack at 17 as a freshman in school, and it flares up BADLY every so often (mostly when I go off of my antidepressant for some reason), culminating in a complete shutting down of my body--no sleep, no eating, crying and shaking constantly. It's horrible. I'm so sorry. I know how you feel. I can live with depression, but when I am in a heightened state of anxiety, I just want to crawl out of my body, if I could.

I do not treat my anxiety with a anti-anxiety because they are very habit forming. I am VERY afraid of becoming addicted to something like that, as I have alcoholism in my family background. So, because of that, I started way back with a prescription for Prozac, which worked for me very well up until about a year and a half ago. The ADs are not addictive, so I felt better taking it. (I took it for nearly 10 years.) The times I have stopped taking Prozac included "important" things like when DH and I were thinking and trying to become pregnant with our son, to name one. I stopped taking it knowing by OB would probably want me off any drugs during the pregnancy. For a while I was fine, but the anxiety came back so badly--and to be honest, there WERE other things going on, too, like DH being deployed a week after I found out I was pregnant, which didn't help matters--that I resumed taking the Prozac after I was through the first trimester, and was on it from conception to birth through my second pregnancy of my daughter, with the knowledge and recommendation of by OB, and both children (thanks be to God!) are beautiful and happy and show no effects of me being on the med. (Total run-on sentence, but oh well.)

I am currently on Lexapro, because Prozac suddenly stopped working for me in Oct. of 2006, and I was back into one of my complete breakdown modes. We switched to Lexapro, and I feel great. Neither it nor Prozac are "happy" pills . . . for example, I feel the grief of my HC terribly, but I can focus on doing things that are right for me and healing for me, which I wouldn't be able to if I were off of the AD. If my DH and I decide to TTC again, however, I will probably stop Lexapro, at least through the first trimester, because I just don't want to take any chances again, you know? I don't know, it's something by OB and I would have to talk about, but my feeling is that I would want to temporarily stop for a bit during the critical first trimester when the neural tube things are developing (since ours was a neural tube malformation with our HC), and just hang in there as much as possible drug-less until birth.

Like some of the other ladies on here have mentioned, I also see a psychologist. Before our HC, it was once a month, sort of a maintenance for issues I was working on, but after HC it has been once a week as I begin to process what happened and work through grief. I, too, have to keep myself busy with things like housework and "projects" so that I don't think too much about things. I catastrophize everything, if given enough time to think . . . like in my time off work since the HC I've finished up a few art projects I was working on here at home; I made some Roman shades for my dining room, read books, cleaned out the garage today . . . It's a fine line for me because when I'm working, I tend to veer toward being a work-a-holic, which is NOT good . . . so I am constantly striving for balance. I think it is a good idea that you get out once a day; another one of the things I did to give myself structure was to get up and showered and dressed each day at the same time I would have had I still been going to work, but instead of going to work, I went to do my errands and to church for daily mass (we're Catholic). I am also a big believer in support groups, which is why I am here online. As I mentioned above, I have alcoholism in my family of origin, so I have been a faithful attender of Alanon for many years, and it works. (I've stopped attending regularly for a while, because it doesn't address my special needs right now.) I knew it would be a lot more difficult to try to find a support group for our special kind of loss, which is why I am so grateful this board is here. It serves that purpose for me, although I am still going to try to attend a perinatal loss group soon. (Their next meeting isn't for a few weeks, and who knows? It might not "work" for me, but I'm going to try.) I was so dismayed to find there WASN'T a support group in my area for this anymore, in fact, that I posted on here to see if anyone from this board who lived in my area wanted to meet up, and we are this Sunday!

Like A- also said, I have tried to find Podcasts online that help, too. When I can't sleep in the night (which because of anxiety is a normal happening for me), I listen to the podcast. The one that I found on iTunes that I've been getting some help from is called "Healing the Grieving Heart" and it is for parents who have lost a child, doesn't matter what means. Some of the podcasts don't "fit" me, but they do have many that address perinatal loss and grieving in general -- including how the sexes deal differently with grief, which seems to be a theme on here today -- and those have helped too. (Thanks A- for the guided meditation tip!)

I don't know . . . I have just found that I HAVE to be resourceful and try to use a lot of different resources. I have the meds, but I do a lot of "work" besides with therapist, podcasts, support groups, etc., that I found a balance of all that works for me.

I am keeping you in my mind and wishing you a freedom from anxiety and fear . . .

For those of you who do no know what these acronyms are, TTC means "trying to conceive" and "LC" means "living child". For some of the people on the board I visit, they are so grief stricken that reading posts about people who have living children (when they couldn't not) is too sensitive, so it is a warning to them that they can avoid a potentially emotional post. "DH" stands for "dear husband."

(6) Lastly, in response to "Is God Mad At Me?" I wrote:

dulcemija wrote:

---

S-,

I, too, am Catholic and struggled with this question. I find it a little weird that I would feel guilt over this question because I actually wasn't raised Catholic; I joined the church when I got married because DH is from a very Catholic family. I embraced the church, though, and we are very observant. (We did attend a Methodist church for a while as a child, and I was very God/spiritual anyway before becoming Catholic.) I think, though, that Catholicism has not a whole lot to do with my guilt . . . I'm just a moral and ethical person, who was always raised with the idea that this kind of a decision is NOT one to take lightly. And, this is not something I ever thought I'd be faced with. Other women, yes. Me? No.

I don't think God is mad at us at all. Not at all. Here is how (a little over one month out) I've begun to reconcile things in my mind: (1) If God did not want us to have the option of making the choice to begin with, He would not have let us know about our diagnosis. That is, our diagnosis was severe hydrocephalus because of an extreme Dandy Walker malformation; our baby had virtually no cerebellum, and the rest of his brain was hardly more than just fluid. I know of at least one other family whose son was born with hydrocephalus, except they didn't know until he was born. They had no option to choose because God didn't give them one or want them to have that one. (2) There is that part of me, though, that still feels like I did something wrong, even though it was the best possible decision we had. In that case, I am reminded that at the beginning of every mass, we are asked to call to mind our sins and ask that God forgives us. That applies to me . . . I ask for God to forgive me. I know that I will be forgiven if I ask with a true heart, and I do ask at each mass. (And I've been going nearly every day.) I don't necessarily see what I did as a mortal sin, like the Church does, but I am sorry that I had to make the choice. (3) I do feel the need to go to the sacrament of reconciliation, but I'm not sure when. I'm very scared of what the priest will say! (Even though the other posts above have shown the priest to be compassionate, I'm afraid he won't be with me and DH. That's just my fear.)

I *love* the perspective K- offered above about how God feels our pain because He had to make the decision to lose His son for the ultimate good, too. Ultimately, I feel that. I do feel like God knew this was part of my life plan, and now he is holding my hand through it.

I forgot to add one last little thing:

dulcemija wrote:

---

Forgot to add . . .

I do take communion when I go to mass. I haven't waited to participate in confession before I did that which, I know, may be seen as a bad thing. But the way I see it is, communion is a way for me to get the strength of God physically into my body. I know that God's strength is getting me through this, but communion (taking the body of Christ into my body) is a physical, tangible proof of that for me. That's one of the things I pray to Him after communion, a prayer of thanks to Him for the eucharist, that through the eucharist He and His strength have physically come into my body and will help me through my day. And, since I have asked for forgiveness communally (and in a personal way too) before mass, I am acceptable to receive communion. Does all that make sense?

Just my thinking . . . take what you like and leave the rest.

More on Catholicism

So I was talking about my "take what you like, leave the rest" viewpoint on Catholicism. I am actually very religious; I read the Bible and various books about the saints and Mary almost daily. I've been attending daily mass almost, well, daily since our HC (heartbreaking choice). It makes me feel better.

(I started off my prayers in church before mass the same way I always do [see the first post], with the added thanksgiving for a safe plane ride on Sunday for DH, who is traveling on business.)

The things that I don't necessarily subscribe to are the church's teachings on social issues, like homosexuality, contraception, and, obviously, abortion. I've always been quietly pro-choice, never vocal to anyone in my beliefs. Let's be honest: It's a divisive issue, and I don't want to get in an argument about it nor do I want to feel like I have to defend myself. And, although I support a woman's right to choose, I always thought it would never, ever be my choice. I was very wrong. Getting a catastrophic prenatal diagnosis changed all of that.

I've struggled with my choice and whether I should seek forgiveness from the priest (participate in confession) and, through the sacrament, God. I've only been to confession once, and that was so I could have first communion and confirmation. I haven't been back since. DH has probably been to confession as many times as I have, and he was raised Catholic! (Okay, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea -- he never goes.) Every mass starts off with a moment where we ask God to forgive our sins, and in my own personal conversations with God, I've asked for forgiveness. In my mind, I've demonstrated remorse, so I don't know why I've suddenly become "Catholic" enough to want to participate in confession, when I completely flaunt other teachings of the church. Where has this "Catholic guilt" suddenly come from? The homily today at morning mass was about confession, in a sense, so I still remain intrigued by the idea of "confessing" my HC. The thing is, it was the right thing to do; I don't think I've sinned in that sense. As someone wrote on a grief board I visit for others who've made HCs: I am a good person who had no good choices. That's all I regret, that I had to make the decision, not the one that I made. I can be proud of the fact that I chose to spare my child a lifetime, if he even got that, of suffering and pain. I look at it like there was a DNR (do not resuscitate) on my child, just like there was on DH's uncle.

I don't know . . . the jury's still out.

In any case, today was a good day. Even though DH is gone for the next two weeks on business, the kids and I had a great day. DS wasn't even acting depressed (like he normally does) that DH was gone. We did a video iChat tonight before I started writing this post. Having the ability to actually talk face to face, albeit via computer, is a great thing!

I know this looks bad . . . (and random other things)

(Regards to picture at left) . . . I have to say, really, that half of those are root beer bottles. Yes, the other half are beer bottles. DH and I are finding a beer in the evening takes the edge off. I don't consider myself a drinker, but after losing our baby, well, it relaxes me at night. Not every night, just nights of trying days. We've had some this week.

* * *

DH's uncle died Thursday evening. As I was writing my first post, probably. He was a very smart man, crotchety and opinionated in his old age (who isn't?), a doctor for a profession. DH and his brothers and sisters went to Dr. W as children and youth, and played with his children, their cousins. The huge family is less one more member now, and that's sad. The rosary is on Monday, and the actual funeral on Tuesday. I probably will not go to either because DH is leaving for business for two weeks and I will have no one to watch DS and DD. (I don't want to take them.) DH said probably, given everything that's happened to us in the past month, he wouldn't have gone even if he was going to be home. We're just sick of being sad and crying; for sure there will be plenty of that there.

* * *

For those of you who are Mac users, of which I am! (proudly), you may use iWeb, which is a handy program for creating one's own website. I have created one for our family. Unfortunately, I don't post to my family blog there as often as I'd like, but I do post big things, and this has been a big week for us. DS promoted from kindergarten and we celebrated DS and DD's birthdays last weekend. I also recently put up a slide show and write up about a quick day trip our family made to Legoland. As I was going through and updating our site with pictures and blog commentaries, I happened upon one I forgot I made: "Baby No. 3 is on the way" and it shocked me when I saw it. I didn't know what to do with it. I left it up there, posted all the new stuff I wanted to publish, and then left the computer to go upstairs and take a nap. I just took it down before continuing this blog; I don't want to dishonor Michael, but seeing it up there is too painful for me to deal with--because he's not on the way anymore. Under the "Our Family" section, I did leave a picture of an angel and wrote "Michael, angel" under the names of our other two children.

I have read on other blogs and postings how other women deal with the question, "And how many children do you have?" How do I answer that now? I like the feisty ones who say, "I have two living children" to intrusive, bitchy askers (kind and friendly women I would never say that to) and just let the implication of what they've said hang in the air. I'll keep that in mind when I encounter nasty, thoughtless people. I guess I've been considering myself a mom of three, it's just that one of them was born an angel instead of to me on earth.

* * *

I went to mass this morning. Since I have been home on disability and emotionally healing more than physically healing, one of the things I've incorporated into my routine to keep me busy is nearly daily attendance at mass. Catholics have the luxury of attending church every day if they want -- not just Sundays and a bible study during the week -- but actual church every day, and I've been doing that. I start off the morning by making the kids' lunches, take dear daughter to school, do an errand or two (or none, just going to Starbucks and working on crosswords) before heading over to the 8:30 service. Because our week was so busy this week, I didn't get to go any day Monday through Friday, so I resumed today. All the "regulars" I've come to recognize through my own attendance were there, and a few more, possibly because it is a weekend day.

In case you're wondering, yes, I am Catholic, and I did have a (medical) termination of a pregnancy. And I haven't had any problems returning to church. I did perhaps, the first mass back -- wondered if I should go to perform the Sacrament of Reconciliation first (confession) -- but I see the church as there to give me strength, and so I go there to get it. I have confessed privately to God, and God knows my pain . . . whether or not I will "confess" to a priest, I don't know. I don't feel the need to, as I've had these conversations with God already and each mass starts off with a request from God anyway to forgive us of our sins.

I guess you could call me "pick-and-choose" Catholic, and I suppose I am this way because I was not raised in the church. I joined when I married DH eight years ago, and I did it because I wanted any future children of ours to have one faith to follow rather than try to wonder what they should be -- "Gee, dad is Catholic and mom is . . . spiritual, so, um, . . ." So I don't have a lot of qualms about not following the dictates of the church to a T.

More on that later . . . we're getting ready to go out to Father's Day dinner.

Uhhh.

I feel like I've been hit by a ton of bricks. The eyes flickered open and the sunlight of the day poked its way in. Another day. A better day, hopefully. My eyes are so swollen from crying yesterday. I got a good night's sleep thanks to Zolpidem . . . once I dropped off I didn't stir. Blissful ignorance for eight hours.

More to come later on other developments yesterday ...

Positives, then some negatives

So I want to start off with a bit of a gratitude list before I move on to all that I find crappy in my life right now.

1. I love my dear husband, whom I will call DH for (dear husband). I am so grateful for his love and his strength, and the fact that we have an awesomely strong marriage. He is an amazing dad and my best cheerleader lately.

2. I love my two beautiful children, DS (dear son) and DD (dear daughter). I am grateful they are healthy and happy children.

3. I am grateful for my parents, for being great parents, and for being supportive, and that they, too, are currently in good health.

4. I am grateful for my in-laws, DH's parents, for their support and for their current good health. I am happy to say that I feel I have a great relationship with my in-laws. Not all DILs can say that!

5. I am grateful for my good job; I have job security. It provides me health insurance. I get paid a nice living . . . I have a wonderful home that DH and I feel comfortable in, that we fill with nice things. I get to shop in more upscale and "trendy" stores for gadgets and clothes and things that I like and want; my kids lack for nothing. We take nice vacations; we have a sizable nest egg in the bank. I love my car.

I go through this mantra nearly daily as I say my prayers at mass in the mornings. I've taken up attending the morning mass, nearly every day. I offer this gratitude list up to G-d before I start making my petitions to Him. I feel like I should say "thanks" before I offer up my lamentations and complaints. It's only fair, right?

So today was a Very Bad Day.

I was filled with grief today. It has been nearly a month since we said goodbye to Michael, our son who never got to be born. I live with grief every day now, but today it hurt more than it has been.

Here's why:

I went in to work today. I had some loose ends to wrap up upon the end of the school year (I'm in the education field). As soon as I received our poor prenatal diagnosis a little over a month ago, I took off work. At first, it was just a week, until we got more news about the extent of of our poor diagnosis -- just how bad was it?? -- and then when it became clear that it was really bad, and what our choice needed to be, I decided to take off at least until the end of May. Physically, I'd be able to return to work by then (and it might be good for me to keep my mind off the devastation at hand), telling others we'd simply "lost" the baby, but emotionally, who knew? I might feel "up to it" or, as it turned out, maybe I wouldn't. So I said "fuck it" to those last two weeks after Memorial Day and I've been off healing emotionally . . . but the world still keeps going and work matters beckoned. My co-workers -- JM, JP, LH, and KC -- have been amazingly helpful taking care of what they could at work for me, but ultimately, there's some things I just needed to do. So I came in to do them.

The problem was that a another coworker of mine there, too, and she'd just had a baby in March. And she had her baby with her. He's a little over two months old now. I held it together while I was doing what I needed to be doing . . . and I did smile at him and say "hello" to her, but it killed me. All I could do was look at him and think about how I was supposed to have a son, too, in a few months' time. And he was perfect and cute and beginning to make smiles for people other than his mom and soothing himself as he sat in her arms . . . I couldn't take my eyes off of him, but I couldn't bear to see him either.

And then people started coming up to me, who haven't seen me in the past month, and who know what has happened, that we "lost" the baby, and who come up to me with these looks on their faces -- with a sort of pity on their visage -- who say, "How are you?"

How the hell do you think I am? Do you WANT me to tell you how I really am? Really? Are you prepared for the emotion that's going to come out of my gut and my eyes and my mouth? Can you handle it?

("How are you?" is such a loaded question, and I know that now more than ever. It is this fake cordiality that people ask without even really caring about the answer.)

And I start crying. Because the baby is there and I'm still focused on what I want and what I'm not going to get and then there is this question looming there and their pitying eyes. I have various answers . . . "It depends on the day," or "Better than some, not as good as some," or sometimes I can even say how I am, I just shake my head. And then there was one who didn't know I "lost" the baby, and I had to tell her. I thought everyone knew, that it had been spread quietly through hushed word-of-mouth through our ranks.

I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I know she feels bad that she had her baby there and I was there and she knew I lost mine, and I tried not to start crying in front of her, but I did.

I cried all the way home. I cried for the next two hours. And then I calmed myself a bit. I read other women's blogs. I visited my online support site for moms and dads and families who had to make the same heartbreaking choice DH and I did. I got the courage to start this blog and actually start writing about this new life of mine.

(I thought about a blog before, that this could be a way for me to process my grief. Part of me didn't want to write about it, because through writing about it, I would have to face it and all my feelings. I didn't think I could go there because the feelings are just too much. But what the hell . . . they're swimming around in my head constantly. At least this way I could write them down, get them out, and move on to the next that pop in my head.)

DH came home and I was able to get a bit of time with him while DS and DD were playing to be honest with him and let him know that today was Not a Good Day, and I got to let him hug me while I weeped and tell me things are going to be okay.

Because, ultimately, that's all I want. I just want to know that everything is going to be okay. Because I don't believe that myself yet. That the grief won't go away, but it will deaden and it will be bearable.

So as I was reading other blogs, we got a call. DH's dear uncle is in the hospital, waiting for Extreme Unction, commonly known (for non-Catholics) as last rites. DH raced to the hospital to be with his parents, siblings and cousins -- many of them, remember we're Catholic -- only to call me but a half an hour later telling me he couldn't stay there in the hospital. It was just too painful to be in such a medical setting with our own loss so recent. He was on his way home, crying as he spoke . . . it was my time to be the cheerleader and to be the strong one. So much crying, on his part and mine . . . I have really begun to loathe crying. I hated it before, but now . . . we both really hate it. What can I say?

So here we are, both of us drinking a beer. Alcohol helps; I'm not a drinker, and I'm worried that I have had a beer (or if we are at a restaurant, something appropriately full of alcohol and fruity tasting) nearly every night with, or after dinner, for the past week and a half. But it just relaxes me. Even though I've been at home with nothing to do but laundry and cleaning, reading and watching TV, surfing blogs and other internet sites . . . so I should already BE relaxed . . . I don't know, the beer just takes the edge off. It is that fuzzy, buzzed "ahhhhhhh" feeling that I'm just liking. I stop feeling the grief so badly for the hour that it takes for the alcohol to process through my system, I guess. And that's comforting. Tonight, also, will be (probably) a sleeping pill night because I'm still reeling from crying so much and I know I won't sleep well. My OB prescribed it for me about two days after we got the poor prenatal diagnosis because I was going crazy with anxiety and panic and was sleeping but two hours a night. I haven't felt the need to take one more than a few times since our loss, but tonight is one of those nights. I don't have problems falling asleep, but at least this will help me to stay asleep instead of fitfully toss, which is my normal modus operandi, and which I can, most other nights, deal with.

DH is playing a computer game which helps him get out of his grief and distracts him. It is his way of coping.

I should take up gaming. I have Sims and Guitar Hero.

Will go for now . . . DS and DD are wanting their nightly treats and then it is time to get ready for bed. And for me, at least, sleep will bring a few hours of blissful unconsciousness. Tomorrow is another day, as Scarlett says, and I deal with it tomorrow.