Slow healing wounds & patience

For as long as I can remember I've healed slowly.  Mosquito bites seem to stay forever.  When I catch a cold, I can't shake it for several weeks.  I "bruise like a peach", to quote Joey on Friends referring to Ross.  And when I get a bruise, I seem to stay bruised forever.  I've been this way for a long time.  I've read several articles that seem to link slow healing with auto-immune diseases like Crohn's.  Additionally, I feel like Remicade is adding another layer to delaying my healing powers.  You see, the way Crohn's works is that my immune system will attack good cells instead of just sick cells (like infected mosquito bites cells or common cold cells).  Remicade causes my immune system to stop attacking healthy cells, but at the same time, it stops attacking the sick cells too.  This is especially true in the first couple weeks following my treatments, which are currently every seven weeks.

I feel like I've grown to be a very patient person.  In part due to waiting for days to feel well enough to accomplish more than just the necessary tasks to get through each day.  In part due to waiting days, weeks, months to not feel abdominal pain.  In part due to living without my husband for almost a year before being able to move to the States.  And many other instances, but I think those are the most defining things that have led to considering myself to be patient.

The healing process that comes with losing a child is a very slow one.  It requires patience.  Patience to get used to the new reality.  Patience to allow certain feelings to subside: guilt, anger, sadness, numbness, devastation, to name a few.  Patience to understand that these feelings may suddenly re-emerge months, years later.  Patience to deal with others, who don't quite know how to react, who don't know what to say.  Patience with regaining certain feelings: joy, fulfillment, enjoyment, peace.  Patience to deal with others who are also mourning your loss.  Patience with others because they are able to return to their lives as if nothing ever happened.

I may not have lost Preston years ago, but I did have at least one miscarriage.  I think I had at least another one but I'll never really know since I was in the hospital with a bowel obstruction when it happened.  I was on so many drugs that I don't recalling asking them to take a pregnancy test, and while they drew blood every day, no one ever mentioned anything to me.  Perhaps they didn't want to add to my existing pain?  Or perhaps I wasn't pregnant after all.  My miscarriage and the loss of Preston, I feel have been two terribly different experiences for me.  Having a miscarriage was devastating, don't get me wrong.  It took time to get in a better place, but I think finding out a couple months later that I was as ill as I was, softened the blow.  I would have been 5 months pregnant when I had my first obstruction.  And then close to giving birth when I had my second one.  I was not a healthy person during the 4 months interval between both obstructions.  My GI always says, healthy mom = healthy baby.  I don't think our little peanut would have been healthy and I would have felt terribly guilty if that was the case.  So, once I had these reasons, it made it easier for me to heal.  I still wonder what could have been, but sadly, I don't think of this baby as much as I think about Preston.  I hope that doesn't make me a bad mama.  I would have loved this baby as much as I loved Preston.  With Preston, I fear we will never have a reason, which will cause us to always try to find a reason.  That itself, will most likely slow down the already slow process of healing after losing our son.

Preston's been gone for almost 5 months now.  It feels like an eternity.  It feels like yesterday.  Time stopped that fateful day and I wonder if it will ever start again.  I do feel like I am healing.  This blog has had a lot to do with it.  But as all my other wounds, it is a slow process.  I thank everyone who continues to have the patience to ride along with me every day.  It truly makes a difference, and I want you to know that.