Summer routine: Wake up, read news, read Heartbreaking Choice threads, check email, get ready to (1) go to Mass and/or (2) do a "project" around the house and/or (3) clean house and/or (4) do errands, etc. Tuesday was really no different, except that morning I was feeling especially lazy and the kids hadn't started acting up yet, so I navigated over to Glow in the Woods. I read one achingly frank and brutal account of one woman's loss, and I was off on a crying jag. I got up to take a shower, because it is in the shower that I can cry, off by myself alone, without having to have DS and DD see or hear me. I just looked up at the ceiling in the shower, crying more bitter tears, and whispering how much I hated being a part of this club--the baby loss club. I hate it. As the administrator of the HC site often says to newcomers, "Welcome . . . it's not a club that anyone wants to belong to, but we're glad you've found us." I'm glad I found them, too, but as many have said in response to a posting I made that day about how much I hate to be in the club -- and this is a response I agree with too -- I'd trade all of the new friendships I've made there for the chance to have my baby back healthy and not riddled with anomalies.
Nevertheless, after a good cry in the shower, I got out, toweled off, and began to get ready to take my kids swimming at the pool at my mom's house. Aunt Flo arrived, so that probably accounts for all my emotion this morning, too. F***ing hormones are just a force of nature that I constantly underestimate. I just couldn't stop weeping, though. I felt like Two-Face, the Batman villain . . . weeping quietly as I blew dry my hair in the bathroom, but then hastily wiping away tears and putting on a cheery act whenever DD or DS came around the corner to visit me for a minute to check on my progress. They already had their bathing suits on. What's the hold up, Mom? They're aggravating each other by this point, and pissing me off because I'm having to stop and go settle petty arguments. Sometimes in summer, we forego the naps. But not today, I think.
So finally we're all ready. We go downstairs to get sunscreen. I send the kids to get towels as I quickly make my "I hate being part of this club" rant post to HC, and then we leave. Except I forget the keys to my mom's house, so we need to come racing back to our house to get the keys. Serendipitously, DH calls at that same time and we are all able to talk to him while he is taking a break from a "war" simulation. The kids take the chance to act up "in front of him" on the phone, which I secretly enjoy, because there's always some part of me that says, "See? See how hard it is to be a single mom when you're gone?" And I'll be the first one to admit that I have very good kids and it hasn't been all that bad. But still. He talks sternly to them from wherever he is in Kansas, we say goodbye, and then we're off again.
EXCEPT now instead of forgetting keys, I get caught in our earthquake, said epicenter of which is only about 10 miles from my house. I was driving to my mom's house; I've never been driving when a bigger earthquake hit before. I thought that all of my tires were blown out, except when I looked down at my dashboard, there was no light showing I was having pressure problems. I slowed to a stop. The steel signal holders were shaking. An earthquake, I thought. I was afraid to drive through the major intersection I was approaching; I didn't want any signals toppling down onto our car. Things settled down; I continued driving, but I pulled into the shopping center on the other corner, where I saw numerous people standing outside, and asked, "That was an earthquake, right? There's nothing wrong with my car??" Yes, we had a temblor.
I proceeded to my mom's, and I checked her house for any fallen objects. Nothing, really, but some crooked pictures and a few toppled things. The family's heirloom clock on the mantle was okay, but I took it down in case of aftershocks. My brother gets that; I get my mom's sparkly (big) wedding ring (and other jewelry). We went swimming. The whole while, though, I tried to make contact with DH to let him know we had an earthquake and we were okay, but the system was overloaded. I couldn't get anything more than a random text through. The kids swam off some steam in the water, we went home, and they settled in for naps.
During naps, I took the time to search through my insurance network for a new psychologist. Before everything happened that led to our HC, I was musing on changing therapists, anyway. I felt like I wasn't accomplishing much, and I thought I needed a new, more directive therapist. Then, when our poor prenatal diagnosis came, and we made our HC, I thought, "Better to already be seeing a therapist rather than have to find one right now." It was just too overwhelming for me to face the day at that point, much less to think about trying to research someone new. But just the previous night, I was answering a 6-by-6, a series of questions posed by the moderators from Glow in the Woods, and I realized the questions I was answering were better than the ones my current psychologist was asking me. (See my answers here.) I want one who will give me "homework" and all that. One who is even more resourceful than I already am. One who will ask me questions I haven't already ask myself, or at least some one who will ask me what questions I'm asking myself and talk through the answers with me. So I spent the afternoon cross checking names of psychologists in my insurance network against those that are certified to perform EMDR, a form of therapy many on the HC site have tried and have found beneficial, and then making sure those psychologists that matched have experience with grief or postnatal issues. Then, I made calls to make sure they were accepting new patients and that they weren't philosophically opposed to abortion. (Because my current psychologist, even though I think she understands our choice, I'm not sure she fully supports it, being a full on Christian. Not that I'm NOT Christian -- I am -- but she's that kind, more evangelical and born-again.) I have an appointment with someone new on Aug. 5.
The kids slept late, so we ran errands late. We went to our NEW Target to get things, then to Home Depot to get paint (because one of my "projects" includes repainting the kids' bathroom). At Home Depot I texted DH that I was "buying paint, buying beer next" which immediately elicited a phone call.
"You okay?"
"Sure," I replied, because the kids and my nerves really had settled down by then. "I'm just going to finally get that beer we meant to get at the store this week and kept forgetting."
"Oh, okay, because I told the sergeant here that the kids have finally really pissed her off or they had another earthquake."
"No, no, they're better now . . . I just need to have a beer because it has been that kind of day."
And so I did.
