Today was a peaceful, beautiful day here in the Northeast. The leaves are in glorious full color and the temperature was in the low 70's today - how fabulous for November. I woke up early, had coffee on the deck with DH, went for a 4-mile walk together, and cleaned my house. What a great day.
His teenage kids were here last night - we drove them home to NY this afternoon and once they were dropped off, the conversation turned to our baby Kara.
DH is a full-time MBA student right now. When he's working on a project or studying for an exam, he invests 110% of himself. He basically 'disappears' inside of himself while he's focused on something. And every time that 'something' is done, he grieves again. DH likes to talk about how Kara would have been, and how we know her personality even though she never breathed a breath outside of the womb. Today he woke up worried about a project he handed in yesterday. He said that Kara would have told him to stop worrying about that fucking project and get on with the next task. He chuckled, then got quiet. I believe this is his way of coping with her death. An unexplained death of a genetically healthy 38-week old baby in the womb - how does one deal? A perfect, beautiful baby. One that was SO WANTED...how do you live your life with this? We visited the cemetary on the way home and spent some time with baby. DH told me he would do anything to take this pain away from me and to bring her back. He would jump in front of a train, take his own life in any way necessary, to bring her back. He's a good man and he is suffering. And all I can do it hold him and tell him I love him. Such a helpless feeling.
The love I feel for him, especially at a time like this is overwhelming. I know many babylost parents break up after the loss of their child(ren). It's an overwhelming life event, one that alters how you will forever look at and live your life. Crying jags are a constant companion and lost days/weeks are the norm. Mutual respect and support for how an individual grieves, is crucial to maintaining your marriage. I am so in love with this person - even more so than when I married him 5 years ago. And the fact that he grieves with me, makes me feel less alone.
Life is hard. It's really fucking hard. People die. Everything dies. We must embrace the good moments we have, however few, and cherish them while we can.
Today was a good day. I tried to embrace it and enjoy it while I could.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
My brain on L.upron & E.strogen
Today I'm full of mixed emotions. Anticipation, anxiety, sadness, hopelessness, despair, worry. I've started my 8th and final (i think) IVF cycle and this time it better damn well work. Cycling this many times within 16 months of my baby's death is torturous to my body and mind, so much so that it's almost inhuman.
I am a bit excited about this cycle because as most of you know, I'm pretty certain this time will work. I'm speaking in code here, because I'm not sure exactly who IRL is reading this blog. So, I'm 80% sure this cycle will work - coming from my RE's lips to God's ears. So I'm just a tiny bit hopeful that I will be able to bear the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays knowing that a little bundle of joy is definitely on the way. Transfer is tenatively scheduled for sometime between 11/19 - 11/23, so I still have a few weeks to go before launch.
I'm anxious about this cycle, too. This cycle is costing well over $30,000, meaning our total IVF costs over the past 16 months have been astonishing. We are tapped out, DH is still in a full-time MBA program, and we have to live off of our savings until graduation in May 2010. Anxiety abounds over the state of the economy and his prospects for work, etc. and so on. Oh...why can't I just get pregnant naturally like most people? Money anxiety leads to worry, worry leads to depression. Not good.
The sadness is creeping in again, not that it ever truly 'goes away' but since my meds have been increased, I've been feeling pretty good. Sometimes it hits me again that she is truly g-o-n-e forever, and I feel the weight pressing down on my chest again, threatening to suffocate me. I look at her perfect little photo on my desk and I want to smash things, punch through walls, scream at God (which I do frequently). I get so angry and sad, conflicting feelings threatening to consume me and only ending in tears.
I despair that I will never get pregnant. What if I get pregnant and future child does not measure up to Kara? What if I always hold a special place in my heart for my first child, my dead child, my perfect child? Will I treat the others different? Will I have others? Will I be looking into adoption in 6 months?
I've been on L.upron for 18 days now, with another 2-1/2 weeks to go. The pinballing of emotions going on inside of me is amazing. I feel bi-polar.
I worry about running out of money because of IVF. I worry about this cycle not working. I worry that if it does work, will my baby live?
All of these thoughts collide with each other and make my brain hurt.
I just have to get through these next 2-1/2 weeks. Then the 2WW. Then the 35 weeks of pregnancy after that. **fingers crossed**
I am a bit excited about this cycle because as most of you know, I'm pretty certain this time will work. I'm speaking in code here, because I'm not sure exactly who IRL is reading this blog. So, I'm 80% sure this cycle will work - coming from my RE's lips to God's ears. So I'm just a tiny bit hopeful that I will be able to bear the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays knowing that a little bundle of joy is definitely on the way. Transfer is tenatively scheduled for sometime between 11/19 - 11/23, so I still have a few weeks to go before launch.
I'm anxious about this cycle, too. This cycle is costing well over $30,000, meaning our total IVF costs over the past 16 months have been astonishing. We are tapped out, DH is still in a full-time MBA program, and we have to live off of our savings until graduation in May 2010. Anxiety abounds over the state of the economy and his prospects for work, etc. and so on. Oh...why can't I just get pregnant naturally like most people? Money anxiety leads to worry, worry leads to depression. Not good.
The sadness is creeping in again, not that it ever truly 'goes away' but since my meds have been increased, I've been feeling pretty good. Sometimes it hits me again that she is truly g-o-n-e forever, and I feel the weight pressing down on my chest again, threatening to suffocate me. I look at her perfect little photo on my desk and I want to smash things, punch through walls, scream at God (which I do frequently). I get so angry and sad, conflicting feelings threatening to consume me and only ending in tears.
I despair that I will never get pregnant. What if I get pregnant and future child does not measure up to Kara? What if I always hold a special place in my heart for my first child, my dead child, my perfect child? Will I treat the others different? Will I have others? Will I be looking into adoption in 6 months?
I've been on L.upron for 18 days now, with another 2-1/2 weeks to go. The pinballing of emotions going on inside of me is amazing. I feel bi-polar.
I worry about running out of money because of IVF. I worry about this cycle not working. I worry that if it does work, will my baby live?
All of these thoughts collide with each other and make my brain hurt.
I just have to get through these next 2-1/2 weeks. Then the 2WW. Then the 35 weeks of pregnancy after that. **fingers crossed**
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Response to "Glow in the Woods"
This is one of my very favorite blogs - "Glow in the Woods." Full of amazing posts that describe life after the loss of a child so accurately, it seems as if the writer is reading my mind.
A recent topic "The Land on Which I Stand" really resonated for me. I feel like I'm a broken person, a ticking time bomb, and if people could really see what's going on inside of me, they would be horrified.
The questions asked are as follows:
Can you describe an instant of recognition or insight that surprised you or caught you off-guard?
I can recall several of these instants. One that is very painful is the moment I learned there was no heartbeat, Kara had died. I was in the examination room for a routine ultrasound and my OB happily chatted about how big I was measuring, answering questions about the scheduled c-section in 12 days time. I recall the fetal doppler being moved around and around my belly, but it didn't register 'why', until the doctor got quiet. Instantly I felt cold and everything went into slow motion. "B, there is no heartbeat. I'm so sorry." At first it didn't register - it was as if someone pushed the 'pause' button. I gaped at her. Then it dawned on me - as she showed me the ultrasound with my baby perfectly still in the fetal position. There was no heartbeat, there was no movement at all. I lost my voice. I was whispering over and over "That's it? That's the end?" I could not find my voice - it was like forcing air through my vocal cords, but no sound was coming out. Then the wailing began. An uncontrollable, primal sound that I have never heard before. I held my belly and howled, over and over again. The Doctor called my husband who was traveling on business - I couldn't even speak. She explained that Kara had died 'in utero' for no apparent reason. The conversation went on without my even hearing what was being said. My mother was called to take me to the hospital to prep me for labor. I was in hysterics for some time as I waited the hour for my mother to drive up to get me.
How many lives do you lead? Two. One is my business life - I put on the business persona and do my job. I have bad days, but I can hide at home on my worst days and no one knows the difference. The other is my real life - I am the bereaved, broken mother of one child who lives in Heaven. I am that woman - the one who experienced stillbirth after a nearly perfect pregnancy. I can't fake it, can't see through the shitty present to the hopeful future. My outlook is bleak.
Do you ever feel okay? Yes. There are days when I feel okay and I have to embrace and enjoy them as much as possible because they are fleeting. There are those days where I feel a gleam of optimism for a short moment, and I think that there might be hope for me.
And are you okay with feeling a little okay, sometimes? I am okay with it. I am.
What about you?
A recent topic "The Land on Which I Stand" really resonated for me. I feel like I'm a broken person, a ticking time bomb, and if people could really see what's going on inside of me, they would be horrified.
The questions asked are as follows:
Can you describe an instant of recognition or insight that surprised you or caught you off-guard?
I can recall several of these instants. One that is very painful is the moment I learned there was no heartbeat, Kara had died. I was in the examination room for a routine ultrasound and my OB happily chatted about how big I was measuring, answering questions about the scheduled c-section in 12 days time. I recall the fetal doppler being moved around and around my belly, but it didn't register 'why', until the doctor got quiet. Instantly I felt cold and everything went into slow motion. "B, there is no heartbeat. I'm so sorry." At first it didn't register - it was as if someone pushed the 'pause' button. I gaped at her. Then it dawned on me - as she showed me the ultrasound with my baby perfectly still in the fetal position. There was no heartbeat, there was no movement at all. I lost my voice. I was whispering over and over "That's it? That's the end?" I could not find my voice - it was like forcing air through my vocal cords, but no sound was coming out. Then the wailing began. An uncontrollable, primal sound that I have never heard before. I held my belly and howled, over and over again. The Doctor called my husband who was traveling on business - I couldn't even speak. She explained that Kara had died 'in utero' for no apparent reason. The conversation went on without my even hearing what was being said. My mother was called to take me to the hospital to prep me for labor. I was in hysterics for some time as I waited the hour for my mother to drive up to get me.
How many lives do you lead? Two. One is my business life - I put on the business persona and do my job. I have bad days, but I can hide at home on my worst days and no one knows the difference. The other is my real life - I am the bereaved, broken mother of one child who lives in Heaven. I am that woman - the one who experienced stillbirth after a nearly perfect pregnancy. I can't fake it, can't see through the shitty present to the hopeful future. My outlook is bleak.
Do you ever feel okay? Yes. There are days when I feel okay and I have to embrace and enjoy them as much as possible because they are fleeting. There are those days where I feel a gleam of optimism for a short moment, and I think that there might be hope for me.
And are you okay with feeling a little okay, sometimes? I am okay with it. I am.
What about you?
Sunday, October 25, 2009
IF and Grief
Every day I think I'll update my blog, but the fear of falling backwards into the abyss keeps me away. As if I could be made 'sadder' by writing about my feelings, my longing for my daughter. I live it every moment of my life, how can simply writing it down make me any sadder? And yet, it terrifies me. Most days I feel like I'm hanging on to life by a thread. There lurks a maelstrom in my head, always present, always threatening to erupt. I look in the mirror and wonder how I can be alive with the knowledge of her death.
I go through my life just marking time until I can do to sleep and escape reality. This life sucks. I have to visit my baby in a cemetary for the rest of my life - how long will that be? How long before the sight of her headstone stops stealing my breath upon sight? How long before I can wake up without the first thought being 'my baby is dead' and 'life fucking sucks.' How long before I can return to Sunday Mass without the vile anger I feel towards God for Kara's death? Never. I will never NOT be horrified by her death. The thought will never NOT take my breath away.
Infertility sucks. Living with infertility while grieving for your child, has to be one of life's best torments. I'm gearing up for another cycle (IVF#8) and I don't have much hope for a successful outcome. Even though we're going the DE route, I'm terrified that this cycle won't work, we won't get enough PGD-normal frosties to try again, and we'll have wasted HUGE amounts of money trying to get pregnant since Kara died, all without success. None of this will bring Kara back, but I'm hoping I can have a sibling or two (or ten) to help give me hope again. Children will give me a purpose and a reason for living again. Transfer is tenatively scheduled for the week before Thanksgiving. Here's hoping I have something to celebrate real soon.
I go through my life just marking time until I can do to sleep and escape reality. This life sucks. I have to visit my baby in a cemetary for the rest of my life - how long will that be? How long before the sight of her headstone stops stealing my breath upon sight? How long before I can wake up without the first thought being 'my baby is dead' and 'life fucking sucks.' How long before I can return to Sunday Mass without the vile anger I feel towards God for Kara's death? Never. I will never NOT be horrified by her death. The thought will never NOT take my breath away.
Infertility sucks. Living with infertility while grieving for your child, has to be one of life's best torments. I'm gearing up for another cycle (IVF#8) and I don't have much hope for a successful outcome. Even though we're going the DE route, I'm terrified that this cycle won't work, we won't get enough PGD-normal frosties to try again, and we'll have wasted HUGE amounts of money trying to get pregnant since Kara died, all without success. None of this will bring Kara back, but I'm hoping I can have a sibling or two (or ten) to help give me hope again. Children will give me a purpose and a reason for living again. Transfer is tenatively scheduled for the week before Thanksgiving. Here's hoping I have something to celebrate real soon.
Monday, October 12, 2009
What now?
I'm having a hard time today. I'm fighting off 'the pit' with all that I have in me. It's hard work - all I want to do is to crawl back into bed and cry.
It's hard to say just what triggered it this time. Maybe it was the birth announcement from an acquanitance on Friday, and subsequently having to buy a gift for the baby that started me in this direction. Maybe it was my visit to her grave to place a beautiful Fall mum & pumpkin at the base of her monument. I thought it would feel good to take the pink geraniums away and replace them with beautiful Fall flowers and a pumpkin. It didn't feel good, though. It felt like decorating my baby's gravesite for yet another season without her. It's so morbid that I have to share the seasons, holidays and special occasions in this way, with my baby. It's so sad, and it makes me terribly angry.
Why does yet another mother get to take home her live child? Why me? Aliza writes about this in her recent post FREAK. I too, am angry every time I see a pregnant woman, or hear of another acquaintance who had their baby live and screaming. I'm so angry - why me? why my baby? why did it have to be us, who tried for so long to get pregnant, and wanted our baby so badly! why did it have to be me - I can't even get pregnant with my own baby again! It makes me crazy sometimes. I hate to sound this way - it horrifies me that I wish this tragedy on someone else. But it's just so painful - how do I go through life missing her so terribly much? How can I 'get on' with my life when I'm missing a part of me forever? My only biological child, and she is dead. It takes my breath away. I do, though. I wish it were someone else, and that I had my perfect little Kara in my arms where she belongs. Let it have happened to someone else who had other children. I know it's horrible - please no hate comments on this one. I'm being brutally honest here. I hate myself for thinking/feeling/saying it. But I wish people who suffer from infertility, who tried SO FUCKING HARD for their first child, would be spared from this tragedy. Aliza, Ines, Amy, Nancy, and many, many other babylost mama's who are struggling with the question - WHAT NOW? How do we go on from here, when we are all struggling with some form of infertility. Some of us have moved to adoption, some of us are still trying IVF, some of us are stuck in purgatory - unsure of how to live our lives now that our 'back-up' plan has failed. Some of us have no options left. What of us? How do we live like this, now that we've seen our beautiful child, have felt him or her in our arms, lifeless and cold? We have no other children to live for. We have no other genetic children to hope for. Why did this have to happen to us???
There are no answers and no solace today. I miss her so terribly much.
It's hard to say just what triggered it this time. Maybe it was the birth announcement from an acquanitance on Friday, and subsequently having to buy a gift for the baby that started me in this direction. Maybe it was my visit to her grave to place a beautiful Fall mum & pumpkin at the base of her monument. I thought it would feel good to take the pink geraniums away and replace them with beautiful Fall flowers and a pumpkin. It didn't feel good, though. It felt like decorating my baby's gravesite for yet another season without her. It's so morbid that I have to share the seasons, holidays and special occasions in this way, with my baby. It's so sad, and it makes me terribly angry.
Why does yet another mother get to take home her live child? Why me? Aliza writes about this in her recent post FREAK. I too, am angry every time I see a pregnant woman, or hear of another acquaintance who had their baby live and screaming. I'm so angry - why me? why my baby? why did it have to be us, who tried for so long to get pregnant, and wanted our baby so badly! why did it have to be me - I can't even get pregnant with my own baby again! It makes me crazy sometimes. I hate to sound this way - it horrifies me that I wish this tragedy on someone else. But it's just so painful - how do I go through life missing her so terribly much? How can I 'get on' with my life when I'm missing a part of me forever? My only biological child, and she is dead. It takes my breath away. I do, though. I wish it were someone else, and that I had my perfect little Kara in my arms where she belongs. Let it have happened to someone else who had other children. I know it's horrible - please no hate comments on this one. I'm being brutally honest here. I hate myself for thinking/feeling/saying it. But I wish people who suffer from infertility, who tried SO FUCKING HARD for their first child, would be spared from this tragedy. Aliza, Ines, Amy, Nancy, and many, many other babylost mama's who are struggling with the question - WHAT NOW? How do we go on from here, when we are all struggling with some form of infertility. Some of us have moved to adoption, some of us are still trying IVF, some of us are stuck in purgatory - unsure of how to live our lives now that our 'back-up' plan has failed. Some of us have no options left. What of us? How do we live like this, now that we've seen our beautiful child, have felt him or her in our arms, lifeless and cold? We have no other children to live for. We have no other genetic children to hope for. Why did this have to happen to us???
There are no answers and no solace today. I miss her so terribly much.
Monday, October 5, 2009
New Normal?
It's been 2 weeks since my last post. It's not that I have nothing to say, but rather, I'm afraid to come here and post because I've been feeling okay as of late. I fear that opening up my heart on my blog will release any sadness that's been lurking here and hiding behind a possibly false facade of semi-normalness. I don't even know if I should call it that.
Describing my state of being over the past 10 days, I can only say I've felt 'okay'. Not great, I don't think I'll ever feel great again. But, okay. I am in a weird state of okay-ness with my sadness, my aching heart, my missing her. Perhaps I am testing the waters of this new 'normal' we babylost parents always mention. I am almost afraid to say it, dare I say that I'm settling in to this sadness and becoming used to it? So used to it that I can live my life with this heartache and constant suffering as if it's normal? Challenging myself to think of a happier me, I remember the sheer elation when I got a BFP with Kara - but I don't think I'm capable of ever having that level of happiness ever again. I am so used to this feeling of sadness and heartache, that it feels normal. Somehow blunted - ME, but deadened. My life goes on - working, visiting family & friends, cleaning the house, grocery shopping - all with a heaviness of heart that only takes a moment, a song, a word, to let loose those tears that always hover behind my eyes. This is my new normal. There is no emotion for me except sadness, so I have been experiencing a 'deadening' of myself. I'm okay with it. It's the new me, after losing my child. Every moment of every day, I miss her, I love her. How can I live with the knowledge that my child is dead, and NOT be a different person? I am different. I wonder how many people that know me, can tell. While visiting family this weekend, my mom & brother were telling funny pet stories and laughing openly, joyfully, freely. I could only smile politely. I can't even make decent small talk anymore. I am incapable of laughing with abandon, of feeling pure joy. I think I won't feel that way again until I have a live child in my arms, whose mine to keep, forever. And maybe not even then.
Describing my state of being over the past 10 days, I can only say I've felt 'okay'. Not great, I don't think I'll ever feel great again. But, okay. I am in a weird state of okay-ness with my sadness, my aching heart, my missing her. Perhaps I am testing the waters of this new 'normal' we babylost parents always mention. I am almost afraid to say it, dare I say that I'm settling in to this sadness and becoming used to it? So used to it that I can live my life with this heartache and constant suffering as if it's normal? Challenging myself to think of a happier me, I remember the sheer elation when I got a BFP with Kara - but I don't think I'm capable of ever having that level of happiness ever again. I am so used to this feeling of sadness and heartache, that it feels normal. Somehow blunted - ME, but deadened. My life goes on - working, visiting family & friends, cleaning the house, grocery shopping - all with a heaviness of heart that only takes a moment, a song, a word, to let loose those tears that always hover behind my eyes. This is my new normal. There is no emotion for me except sadness, so I have been experiencing a 'deadening' of myself. I'm okay with it. It's the new me, after losing my child. Every moment of every day, I miss her, I love her. How can I live with the knowledge that my child is dead, and NOT be a different person? I am different. I wonder how many people that know me, can tell. While visiting family this weekend, my mom & brother were telling funny pet stories and laughing openly, joyfully, freely. I could only smile politely. I can't even make decent small talk anymore. I am incapable of laughing with abandon, of feeling pure joy. I think I won't feel that way again until I have a live child in my arms, whose mine to keep, forever. And maybe not even then.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
A Place of Light
The week started out in a place of darkness, but has ended up in a place of light.
On Monday, I was headed for the abyss. I was on the edge and trying desperately to hang on for dear life. I dug in my fingers and clutched onto the edge as hard as I could to keep myself from going over. I found myself consciously trying to change my thought pattern from dark and sad thoughts to more positive thoughts. It's not easy, I'll be honest - it's very difficult. When I'm focused on the sadness of missing my daughter, it's a brutal task to change the thoughts to other, more uplifting things. Sometimes I can't think of anything positive except to be thankful for the 9 months that I had being pregnant with her. And that has to be enough to keep me going. To keep me from falling into the abyss. And sometimes, I just get out and walk or go to the gym. I try to do anything to distract me from the darkness. And it worked, this week. I still had some dark moments and I did my share of crying, for sure. But I'm okay and I'm still feeling good.
I've been really focused on making positive changes in my life. I changed my bedding in my master bedroom and I LOVE IT. It's so nice to LOVE your bed again. A fluffy, new duvet cover in vibrant, wonderful colors is a sure way to brighten my life. A new paint color in my home office is a cheerful blue/green - another way to help brighten my life and change my environment. And of course, Wei.ght Wat.chers - I've lost 3.4lbs in 3 weeks and I'm feeling good. 11.6lbs more to go until the Donor cycle. At least these things keep me distracted and change my environment enough to break me out of this depressive funk I've been in for 15 months. At the end of the day I still miss her terribly, but breaking the cycle of sadness for me is key to my healing. I simply have to figure out ways to grieve in a more healthy manner, while changing my situation and my environment to reinforce positive behavior and thinking. I think that changing my environment and taking control of those things that I CAN control, is huge for me. I know I'll still have the sadness, ever lurking beneath the distracted facade, but at least I have made the effort to take charge of those things under my control.
The sadness is not under my control, not really. But I'm working to make my falls into the abyss shorter and less painful.
My week ended in light this week. Last night I had a dream that my grandmother came to me and gave me a big hug, and told me that 'everyone is okay.' I asked if Kara was okay - and she assured me with a smile, that Kara was fine and was with her. Then I aksed if Junior was with Kara, and she smiled and again said yes. Everyone is fine and they're waiting for me.
I could not get back to sleep after that dream. I felt a peace that I have not felt in my entire life. I have never been close to this grandmother and she was never the kindly, old, sensitive maternal figure that presented herself in my dream. But I want to believe that she came to me the truth. I have prayed for Junior to be with Kara, and for them both to be with my grandparents in Heaven, since Kara died over 15 months ago. I visited my grandmother's grave a few weeks ago for the first time ever, and asked her to take care of Kara for me until I get there. This dream has made my day just a bit easier to face, knowing that my daughter is safe and happy with my favorite dog and my grandparents, waiting for me. That's all I can ask for.
On Monday, I was headed for the abyss. I was on the edge and trying desperately to hang on for dear life. I dug in my fingers and clutched onto the edge as hard as I could to keep myself from going over. I found myself consciously trying to change my thought pattern from dark and sad thoughts to more positive thoughts. It's not easy, I'll be honest - it's very difficult. When I'm focused on the sadness of missing my daughter, it's a brutal task to change the thoughts to other, more uplifting things. Sometimes I can't think of anything positive except to be thankful for the 9 months that I had being pregnant with her. And that has to be enough to keep me going. To keep me from falling into the abyss. And sometimes, I just get out and walk or go to the gym. I try to do anything to distract me from the darkness. And it worked, this week. I still had some dark moments and I did my share of crying, for sure. But I'm okay and I'm still feeling good.
I've been really focused on making positive changes in my life. I changed my bedding in my master bedroom and I LOVE IT. It's so nice to LOVE your bed again. A fluffy, new duvet cover in vibrant, wonderful colors is a sure way to brighten my life. A new paint color in my home office is a cheerful blue/green - another way to help brighten my life and change my environment. And of course, Wei.ght Wat.chers - I've lost 3.4lbs in 3 weeks and I'm feeling good. 11.6lbs more to go until the Donor cycle. At least these things keep me distracted and change my environment enough to break me out of this depressive funk I've been in for 15 months. At the end of the day I still miss her terribly, but breaking the cycle of sadness for me is key to my healing. I simply have to figure out ways to grieve in a more healthy manner, while changing my situation and my environment to reinforce positive behavior and thinking. I think that changing my environment and taking control of those things that I CAN control, is huge for me. I know I'll still have the sadness, ever lurking beneath the distracted facade, but at least I have made the effort to take charge of those things under my control.
The sadness is not under my control, not really. But I'm working to make my falls into the abyss shorter and less painful.
My week ended in light this week. Last night I had a dream that my grandmother came to me and gave me a big hug, and told me that 'everyone is okay.' I asked if Kara was okay - and she assured me with a smile, that Kara was fine and was with her. Then I aksed if Junior was with Kara, and she smiled and again said yes. Everyone is fine and they're waiting for me.
I could not get back to sleep after that dream. I felt a peace that I have not felt in my entire life. I have never been close to this grandmother and she was never the kindly, old, sensitive maternal figure that presented herself in my dream. But I want to believe that she came to me the truth. I have prayed for Junior to be with Kara, and for them both to be with my grandparents in Heaven, since Kara died over 15 months ago. I visited my grandmother's grave a few weeks ago for the first time ever, and asked her to take care of Kara for me until I get there. This dream has made my day just a bit easier to face, knowing that my daughter is safe and happy with my favorite dog and my grandparents, waiting for me. That's all I can ask for.
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