Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Rachel's Pursuit of Purpose Workshop - Session 1



My friend Rachel Lewis, who I've mentioned a few times in my blog, is organizing and leading a blog workshop (really fun idea Rachel!!).  It's designed to help you find your purpose, develop your purpose or to help you achieve it.  This is exactly what I feel like I needed.  So thank you Rachel!  For more details, and if you are interested in participating, please visit Rachel's blog "the lewis note".  And even more details: Pursuit of Purpose Workshop: Session 1

Session 1: "Pick 3 events of brokenness in your life that have shaped you or molded you in some fashion."

It would be comforting if finding 3 events of brokenness in my life was a difficult task.  Alas, I have so many that I don't really know which ones to choose.  When it boils down to it though:

Losing Preston is definitely the one that comes to mind first.  I wouldn't be writing my blog if I had not lost him.  I don't believe I'd be finding a purpose, trying to find a purpose or trying to achieve a purpose other than being a good mom, if I had not lost him.

My miscarriage, also comes to mind.  And while I have accepted this loss, it still created a shift in how I see things.  How I feel about things.  How I live.

My health.... my darned health issues.  Take your pick: Crohn's disease, surgeries, hospitalizations, pre-eclampsia, HELLP syndrome.  They've all taken their toll on me at some point.  They've all shaped me.  My health has taught me so much.

Depression.  While I never had it diagnosed, I strongly believe that I suffered from depression when I first moved to the States.  Everything was new.  I couldn't work and felt like I had no purpose.  Really, when it comes down to it, that's how I felt.  I had the "I'll do it tomorrow" philosophy because there was always a tomorrow.  That too carved me into a different person, and I rather hope that it continues to.

So I guess there you have it:
  1. Losing Preston
  2. Miscarriage (and suspected miscarriages)
  3. Health issues
  4. Depression
And I am listing 1 and 2 separately because I dealt with them in such different ways.  I feel differently about them.  Perhaps that's wrong, but I feel how I feel.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

"Easier to Run"


When I miscarried in 2012, I would listen to Linkin Park's "Easier to Run" over and over and over again.  I think it put verbalized, for me, what I was feeling.  The guilt, the pain, the emptiness.  It's not something I shared with many people.  I didn't talk about it, and I rather regret it because I think it would have helped me.  I've stated before that I made peace with losing baby H.  It's not something I did lightly.  It's something that I had to do to let go of the guilt.  I was sick without knowing it.  Baby H could have, would have been very sick as a result.

It's often difficult to put into words what you feel after a miscarriage, the loss of a baby.  You feel lonely even if you are surrounded.  The baby that was growing inside of you, the one you would talk to all the time, is gone.  In the blink of an eye, everything is different.  You feel the physical pain of the loss which lingers on, once it's all over, as emotional agony.  Do I miss that little peanut? I do.  I'm sorry that I didn't realize how sick I was.  Perhaps things would have been different.  We'll never know, and I try very hard not to dwell on it.

This song, I doubt was written to explain the sentiments a woman feels in the aftermath of the loss of a child, a little baby, a life she helped create.  Nonetheless, I invite you to take in the lyrics or listen to the song.  I hope that it helps you put into words what you are feeling, even if it just for you; as it was for me.

"Easier to Run" by Linkin Park 
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something more
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
 
Something has been taken from deep inside of me
The secret I've kept locked away, no one can ever see
Wounds so deep they never show, they never go away
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years, they've played
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
If I could take all the shame to the grave I would
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
I would take all my shame to the grave
 
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
 
Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories, I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back
And never moving forward so there'd never be a past
 
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
If I could take all the shame to the grave I would
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
I would take all my shame to the grave
 
Just washing it aside
All of the helplessness inside
Pretending, I don't feel misplaced
It's so much simpler to change
 
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
It's easier to run
 
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made
Its easier to go
If I could change I would, take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could stand up and take the blame I would
I would take all my shame to the grave

This song touches on everything I felt.  I felt like if I tried to forget, it would numb the pain.  It worked for a while, until I set foot into the world and would see pregnant ladies and babies everywhere.  Like a cruel joke.  Commercials for diapers.  A pregnant lady next to me on the train.  A truck that would pass by with advertising for Gerber.  I felt so alone, because I didn't have my little peanut to talk to all the time.  I couldn't share my every thought with him or her as I'd become accustomed to, even just for several weeks. 


I was scared, but no one could see it.  My loss, unless I spoke of it, no one would know about it.  And while I've made peace with losing baby H almost 3 years ago, I still think of this baby a lot.  I never got to know what he or she was like.  I didn't get to imagine who the baby would look like.  Dreams were dashed before they could be formed.  And yet, years later, I remember finding out I was pregnant.  I remember experiencing the miscarriage like it was yesterday.  So much for a happy Valentine's day.

And that guilt, I felt it for a long time.  It was my body after all that was ill, that couldn't carry the baby.  What had I done wrong?  I should have taken better care of myself.  I should have started Remicade a lot earlier.  I should have, would have, could have.  It was always on my mind.  I felt helpless.  Paralyzed by my fears, I thought about it and thought about it.  Day in and day out.  The damage in my insides occurred after years of trying to live with Crohn's disease.  Trying one drug therapy after the other.  Deciding that I didn't need drugs, because I felt "ok".  I was not "ok" but because it was normal for me to be in some pain all the time, perhaps my body got used to it and numbed some of the pain.  I realized that I couldn't change the past, and that regardless of what I did on my own, the damage was there.  I couldn't undo it, but I could fix it, so that baby H would one day have a younger sibling.  That sibling was Preston.  They are now reunited, and hopefully, one day, we can have our happily ever after together.

Whatever you are feeling after a loss, allow yourself to feel it.  Grief walks hand in hand with remorse, desperation and feelings of solitude.  Running is probably not the answer, but sometimes it's necessary to shield your heart.  Just be sure that you have an outlet for your pain - talk to someone, write your feelings down, listen to songs that help you define your emotions.  From there, you will find your way.  You will survive.  How do I know? I've been there.  I continue to be there every day. 

Monday, October 20, 2014

#CaptureYourGrief - Day 15: Community


My first collage!  I am really enjoying this "BeFunky" app on my phone.  It's just a little difficult to get pictures from my Google photo library (say if I added a border, or played with the HDR) to my gallery, to BeFunky, back to my gallery and then back to my Google photos.  If I don't play with the photo (like above), I can easily get it done though.

The topic for day 15 of Carly Marie's #CaptureYourGrief project is Community.  On October 15th, a "Wave of Light" traveled the globe.  This was to symbolize remembering our babies who have passed, and help create awareness.  As we all well know, October is Breast Cancer awareness month.  Rightfully so, we need to continue raising awareness, and finding a cure and better treatment for this horrible cancer that so many have succumbed to.  I have several friends who have lost their mothers to this horrible monster.  Less known, October is also Miscarriage and Infant Loss awareness month, with October 15th, being the Miscarriage and Infant Loss awareness day.  And so, as a community, we lit our candles, remembered our babies, however big or small, and honored them by trying to spread more awareness.

I've lost both.  I've had at least one miscarriage, and I lost an infant to SIDS.  And while there are campaigns like "Back is Best" that have reduced the risk of SIDS, there is still no way to prevent it.  We do not understand what it is that makes babies stop breathing while they are sleeping, with no hope to be woken up.  There are a lot of theories, and honestly, they are all frustrating, because everyone wants something to blame... and so we fall into this trap - it was the vaccination, lack of vaccination, the mattress wasn't firm enough, the mattress had "chemicals" in it...  I wish, that there was a way to irrefutably eliminate some of these theories, instead of making the head of SIDS parents spin.  How are we supposed to rest easy when we have other newborn babies, infants?  Yes there are risk factors that increase the odds of an occurrence for SIDS - such as premature birth, c-section birth.  That was one of the risk factors for Preston.  Yet, there are so many babies that are born prematurely, some earlier than Preston at 35 weeks.  The rate of survival at 35 weeks is very high.  But this risk factor and some unknown environmental stressor and his critical development age could be to blame.  I think so much more research could be done, but then again, I don't know how difficult this research is.

Anyway, I went on a tangent there... Community.  The baby loss community has been one that has helped me immensely on this journey of grief.  This is a journey that I will continue for my entire life, and really without the knowledge that there are others out there who have survived such an ordeal, has been helpful.  Seeing the positivity that others are able to live by, how they go through most days honoring their children, helping others has really been eye opening to me.  The community is on forums, is via blogs, is others I have met through group therapy.  It's been encouraging to see so many couples stick together.  This can be one of the greatest challenges for a marriage, or so I've been told, over and over again.  And I know Brett and I have a really special bond, and nothing can break it, but you still have to work at it, cherish it, and make it the best it can be.  And it's been uplifting to see other couples stick together, through thick and thin.  Everyone grieves differently, it's about finding a way to support each other, even when it doesn't mesh with how you are healing.  Respecting how the other is healing.

The community has taught me a lot, and it's helped me bring awareness to others, who aren't a part of this community.  I don't ever want anyone to need to join this community, but I think helping others, who haven't experienced this type of loss, understand what we are going through, may one day help others.  Awareness is half the battle.

I'd like to see our community be supported.  I know the topic of infant loss and miscarriage is a sensitive one.  I know that it scares a lot of people, it brings out emotions that are difficult to deal with.  And I think on both ends, we need to bridge the gap.  Those of us who have experienced a loss, when we are ready, I think we need not be ashamed to speak of our children.  And for those who haven't, we need to understand that any loss is a loss.  There is no "you can always have another".  There is no "you never even got to hold him/her".  There is no "he didn't take a breath".  A loss is a loss.  It is traumatic, and it is heartbreaking.  Nothing can replace what was lost.  Trying to make "light" of it, usually ends up hurting feelings more than not saying anything.  A simple "I'm sorry for your loss" or "I'm thinking of you" or a hug, can go a long, long way.

On October 1st, I lit a candle for my son.  It is pictured above, on the top left corner.  My aunt Jocelyn and friend Cynthia did as well.  I also lit this candle, for all the babies in my loss community.  I thought of them.  I prayed for their parents.  On October 15th, I lit two candles.  A red one for Preston, pictured above, top left and bottom, and an orange one, on the bottom, again for all the babies in my loss community.  Thank you Alicia, John, Cynthia, aunt Jocelyn and April, for lighting candles and sharing in the wave of light.  I will do this again on October 31st, to close out this month of awareness.  I hope you will join me.

As I lit these candles, I wished our babies well.  I told them that their parents were thinking about each and every one of them.  I told them to fly high, smile, and know that we love them, no matter where they are.  I told them that we think about them every day, and they can rest assured, that they will never be forgotten.  Fly high little ones, soar into the clouds, and bless us with the peace that you have been granted.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Breaking the Silence - Part I: Mentioning my child's name


My absolute worst fear came true.  I prayed and prayed every night for God to watch over my son, Preston. I prayed He would watch over Preston as he slept, while my husband and I weren't there or were asleep ourselves.  My prayer was answered for 16 weeks but on March 13th, my little boy did not wake up from an afternoon nap while at daycare.  There is no reason.  There is no one to blame.  That perhaps makes it harder.

I've been blessed with having an amazing support system throughout this painful experience.  Unfortunately, not everyone has the same.  There are many parents out there who actually have to deal with cruelty on top of ignorance when it comes to losing their baby.  I'm hoping that we can create better support systems for others who unfortunately will walk down the path that I am currently living through.  Some walking through it this path experience a loss during pregnancy, but it is a loss nonetheless.  It is no more or less of a loss. 

Don't get me wrong.  I don't want everyone to understand exactly what it is to lose a child, whether through miscarriage, stillbirth or infant loss.  The only way to truly understand is to live it, and I wish no one ever had to live through it.  Sadly, reality had proved these things will continue to happen, which is why I believe it is a great reason to start breaking the silence.  There are many other taboo subjects that are much more mentionable now when you compare it to 20 years ago.  Take AIDS and suicide for example.  They are much more prevalent in discussions.  And not in a derogatory way.  There are fundraisers to raise money in the hopes of finding a cure for AIDS.  There is a lot of talk about mental health, especially in the light of Robin Williams' recent death.  While there will always be cruel people out there ready to take stabs at people who are grieving, suffering or struggling, I believe the majority of people are good hearted.  If these topics are now less controversial to mention, isn't it foreseeable that we could make miscarriage, stillbirth and infant loss less of a forbidden topic?

In the first part of this Breaking the Silence series, I'd like to tackle the following subject: Mentioning my child's name (or my pregnancy).  I believe that many people who have not experienced a loss think that saying Preston's name will bring me to endless tears and send me into a downward spiral of pain.  Hearing my son's name mentioned does not remind me of his death.  I think about him every day and I know that he is no longer around.  I suppose I could be caught off-guard if someone mentioned his name, and it could subsequently make me cry, but it doesn't mean that you've reminded me of his death.  It doesn't even mean that I'm crying tears of sadness.  You could totally move me in a positive way by mentioning his name, bringing me to happy tears.  The fact that you think of him, or that you thought about my pregnancy, it makes me happy.  It means he's impacted your life, if only a little.  He left a footprint in our world.  He is doing what I think he was born to do - spread happiness.  "There is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world".

There are instances where hearing Preston's name could be hurtful, like if someone said: "Preston's in a better place"... No, no he's not.  But, anything like: "I thought of Preston today", or "I think Preston would have liked this", or even "I dreamt of Preston" and "I think of you and Preston a lot".  These things mean the world to me.  They are touching and to a certain extent, bring me peace.

To assist in my goal of breaking the silence that revolves around mentioning the name of an angel baby, whether this baby became an angel in utero or after being born, I posed the following questions to fellow angel mamas on the "BabyCenter" forums:  How do you feel when someone mentions your baby's name and/or your pregnancy?  How do you feel when no one mentions your baby's name and/or pregnancy?  I received several answers and several of these answers are below.  I am hoping that these testimonies will aid everyone in seeing how important it is to break the silence that surrounds miscarriages, stillbirths, and infant loss.

One mama said the following:
When people mention my pregnancy my first reaction is to be sad but once I start talking about them it actually makes me feel better.  By talking about them it reminds me that yes they were real and as much as it hurt to go through two miscarriages they actually made me stronger, a better mother to my 6 year old, and they have brought me and my husband so much closer.  If I didn't talk about them it would feel as they never existed and they did.  I have two angel babies that I will forever love and will think about everyday.  I wouldn't want them to be a secret.
Another mama that I have gotten to know pretty well, Kerri, shared that no one talks about the daughter she lost four years ago, little Jaylynn.  She shared that having no one in her life that mentions her little angel hurts and drives her crazy. It might have happened four years ago, but she still loves Jaylynn and wants to talk about her always and forever.

Another mama share:
No one brings up my Benjamin to me.  I was 15 weeks pregnant and although tiny, I delivered him & held him and loved him.  I had him cremated and he is at home with his family.  I want to talk about him.  No one does.  When I try to talk about him I am ignored or shut down and the topic is quickly changed.  I have learned not to talk about him. (...) I hope no one ever feels as alone as I have in the loss of my child.  What should be taboo is people not acknowledging a life and death and grieving family.  No matter how big or small that life was.
As you can see from these comments, many families deal with not being able to share their pain.  They are unable to mention the life they created and carried, even if for a short while.  They are already grieving the loss of a baby, and have no one to talk to.  They are "shut down" and pushed away.  It is understandable that the subject of miscarriage, stillbirth and child loss are painful ones.  Keep in my that grieving parents already deal with daily pain.  Letting them talk about their child releases some of that pain, and helps them acknowledge that their baby existed.  Is there a reason the world should be so closed to hearing their story?

More testimonies?
Nobody brings up my loss- at allNot once since it happened.  (...)  After I came home from the hospital, they changed the subject each time something pregnancy related came up in a conversation.  Even now (almost seven months later), it's still an awkward subject for them...  It just makes me feel... I don't know, guilty in a way?  That I'm putting them in such a difficult place.  I wish the subject wasn't so taboo, and that people were okay to talk about it.  I feel so alone, and I miss my baby every day.  It sucks that I feel like I'm the only one who remembers him/her.
I love talking about my Silas...I think it makes others uncomfortable how open and comfortable I am talking about my angels (...) but I'm never silent about them. 
My baby Madelyn was born at 28 weeks and only survived for a few hours.  I just returned to work last week.  Everyone was instructed not to ask me about her but I kind of wish they would.  Despite the fact that it's sad and it might make me cry, I love talking about her.  I feel like talking about her keeps her memory alive and if no one does then she will be forgotten.  I have a picture of her on my desk and I wish people would tell me how beautiful she was.  I wear a necklace with an imprint of her footprints and I wish people would use it to start conversation about her.  I know they are just worried that it will upset me.  I guess I have to start talking about her to let them know that it's ok.
People don't know what to say, or say the wrong things.  Our culture denies death and grief.  We need to be educators for other people.  We need to tell them what to say, what not to say, what we need from them.  They do not know.  We only know because we are feeling this way.  I wish people would get more comfortable with appropriate talk.  Breaking the silence is very important
So perhaps part of breaking the silence lies on the shoulders of the grieving parents?  For sure, I think that it's definitely part of the equation.  If none of us bring our children up, it's highly possible that others won't either.  They could be under the impression that it's too painful.  They also very well may have forgotten.  Out of sight, out of mind?  But, really I think it's a battle that we have to face together.  As grieving parents, mention your child.  As friends, family, co-workers, just be there to listen.  If you do think about your grieving friend or their baby, tell them.  They need love and support.  And often the support they need is to talk.  Talk about their experience.  Talk about their pregnancy, or their baby.  Words of encouragement to tell their story, or talk about their baby, might be all they need from you.

One mama I've gotten to know, shared that when she and her husband decided to share the name they had found for their little girl gone too soon, Joanna Marsali, her family just looked uncomfortable.  She also mentioned sharing a picture on Facebook, one containing her husband's shoes, her shoes, and empty space and her daughter's shoes with the quote "Three sets of shoes on Earth and one in Heaven".  Every one was later acting as if there were walking on eggshells around her.  All this to say, that it's very hard for her to try and share her story, or anything about her little angel Joanna, because the feedback she gets is so negative and closed off.  Like mentioned above, it's not just about the grieving parents sharing their stories, it's about us as a society being able to listen.  Listen without prejudice.  Listen with only the intention to take in what is being said.  Listen to show you care.   

These testimonies really should make us think.  Think about what we need to do, to be more open to listening to the stories of grieving families.
I wish people would ask me about my experience with the birth and what we went through after.  I think if people knew more they would understand more, sure if I talk about it, I may cry but I am still happy to get it out.  I often ask myself "do they know we had him cremated?" "Do they know I had arrangements made for him?"  People at work and most of my family don't even know his name.  Sometimes I say his name out loud when I'm alone just to hear it.
I lost a 4 month old to lung disease..  I honestly only talk about him to my 2 close friends and my niece.. everyone else just doesn't get it.. (...)  Think before you talk.. people always say I can have another like he was a candy bar and I can just pick one up at the store.. I really wish I could talk about him more.. but to save myself from going off.. I don't bring him up much. :-(
The first week people asked how I was, but not about Hunter.  Now 9 months later, I feel like no one remembers him.  (...)  It's hard, my mom tell everyone she has 10 grandchildren.  I want to yell and say no you have more but they are not here
Other than my mom I have no one else to talk to about my loss. (...) 
(My husband's family) are closed books emotionally.  His mother doesn't deal well with any emotional issue and as a result she has not spoken to me once since I had our baby.  In the three week lead up to our baby's arrival when I started leaking amniotic fluid she only spoke to me to say it would be 'fine'.  It feels very isolating.  (...) I just want to shout at his family that our baby is real! (...) As the ladies who have previously commented said, I want to talk about our baby.  What makes it hard at the moment is that we are still waiting for gender tests to come back. (...) Perhaps people find it harder to relate to us at the moment because we can't call our baby by their name?  Or maybe I'm making excuses for them? (...) One of my closest friends recently asked me to tell her all about our baby and whether she could see pictures.  That meant the world.
Midnight shared:
No one asks about Chris... And it makes me sad... He existed... No one has mentioned thinking of him, or knowing that its getting closer to his angelversary/bday... And it hurts...  I talk about Jade and Chris because they existed, because I'm proud of my sons... Because I refuse to act like they didn't exist, like they didn't have an impact on my life...  I really wish that people that knew would ask about him... I love that I can come on here and talk about him and you guys will talk back with me and ask questions.  It makes me feel less alone when people ask of my angels.
As you can see, many mamas just want to share their story.  They want to share their babies with the world.  Much like mamas with living children like to share their baby's firsts, and beautiful pictures.  When you are the mom to an angel baby, you don't have too much to share, but that need is still there and it's not often met. 

I've mentioned before that we think about our babies every day.  One mom shares that no one calls her, or texts her, no one brings up her loss at all.  It feels "over", but it's not over for her.  Every day, there's that mental calculation that reminds her how much closer she'd be to having her baby.  Yet, he's buried in the woods with his sibling.  She states that the lack of acknowledgement towards the loss, makes your life even more hellish.  "The more quiet it is the more it hurts".

What a true statement.  If I couldn't mention Preston to anyone, I'd feel like he was forgotten.  I'd feel like the pain was even more difficult to deal with.  I'd certainly feel alone.  While I personally enjoy quiet things, quiet certainly can be isolating and lonely.  I can't sleep without having the tv on in the background.  The silence reminds me that I am not holding a baby monitor in my hand listening for anything out of the ordinary or a simple cry from Preston.

There are many more testimonies that I could share, but I will keep them for another day.  I think I've made the point I wanted to make.  Silence is like a blade in the already broken heart of grieving parents.  Not being able to mention our baby's name without getting the "I don't want to talk about this" look, or having the subject changed can make us feel like we are being quarantined.  Not hearing anyone mention our pregnancies or angels can make us feel like we can't share our stories.  While I personally don't feel ready to share the story of losing Preston, I think knowing that when I am ready, my support system will be there for me, makes it better.  If I didn't think I could share my story, it would make a difficult situation impossibly agonizing.

So, share this entry with everyone you know.  Your friends, your family, your co-workers, your neighbors, friends of friends.  Put it out there that we need to start taking steps in breaking the silence that surrounds losing a baby.  Put it out there that no matter how early the loss is, parents need support, they need to talk about their baby and they need to feel like their baby is acknowledged.

Dedicated to angels all across the world: Jaylynn, Benjamin, Madelyn, Elowen Bay (Ellie), Arabella Grace, Jenna Faye, Egypt, Silas, Joanna Marsali, Malakye, Samuel, Chris, Jade, Beanie, Hunter, Maliah, Joseph Dale, Diego Ramon, Victoria Lynn, Jaxson, Vida, Amia, Sadie, Anthony, Joaquin, Henry, Jacob, Abigail, Gabriel, Micah, Rain, Sophie, Davis, Arsn, Lylah Celeste, Michael, Angela, Ava Hope, Brianna Mae, Lilian, Maria, Matthew, Katie Ann, Jacob, Gabriella Faith, Ace Hope, Connor, Bella Rose, Zayra Rayne, Eddie Floyd, Hope, Hannah, Harper, Madison, Peanut, Deona Marie, Luna, Angel Ray, Davey Jr., Barrett, Anthony, Sam, Emma, Sammuel, Kamryn Michael-Wayne, Sara Brielle, Betty Jean, Xochitl, Salem, Jeffrey, Ryder, Devlin, Benjamin, Connor and of course, my two angels, Baby H and Preston.

Friday, August 15, 2014

Daytime drama

No, I'm not talking about drama in the office, sheesh!  I'm talking about soap operas.  While the fan base for soap operas is obviously lower than the fan base for primetime television, I don't think there's a more loyal fan base.  At the same time though, how much viewers are missed when the tv ratings are collected?  I work during the day, I only have a few options to watch General Hospital. Use my DVR or back when I started watching it, my VCR.  Watch it "On Demand".  Or online on ABC.com.  While online views may have started being accounted for, I highly doubt that they can count the DVR views.  Who knows.  All this means is that soap operas are a dying art.  It doesn't totally make sense to me since the main reason there is a decrease in viewers is that most families have two incomes now, which means, no one is home in the afternoon to watch them.  Replacing them with other shows doesn't mean the replacements are going to do any better.  Katie Couric anyone?  The Revolution?  ABC axed All My Children and One Life to Live a few years ago and those were the replacements.  Revolution lasted 6-7 months.  Katie just had it's last episode at the end of July.  Lesson learned?  Probably not.

You'll ask me, what is so appealing about soap operas.  One of the things I enjoy the most is character development.  You see actors embody these characters for years and years.  The actors know their characters so well, that it's second nature to be those characters.  You see them evolve, unless they are so evil that they can't be redeemed and then that's usually the curtain call for them.  You see them go through hardships, where you cry with them.  You see their dreams come true (usually only to be short lived) and rejoice.  You learn to care about these characters.  You learn to care about the actors.  I can probably tell you the real name of 95% the actors on General Hospital, but I probably can't tell you half the names of the actors that play on primetime shows.  The character development really allows for incredible acting.  Hitting rock bottom and rising from it and making it believable day after day.  Most primetime shows air for a few years and while the acting isn't bad, it's just not of the same caliber.

But, is all that drama, are all those emotions worth it?  I think so.  It allows you to be in tune with your emotions.  Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our lives that we forget to feel.  We don't have outlets to let those emotions out, or we don't allow ourselves the time to let our feelings show because we're so busy all the time.  There's often at least one storyline that you can relate to your life in some way.  And, no, obviously not the crazy one about freezing the world, or bringing people back from the dead.

There is a lot of silliness like the two examples I just stated.  There's unnecessary staring, constant repeating, talking to oneself so that someone accidently overhears you.  I think that part of the show helps balance the reality of some of the storylines with fantasy.  Too much realism all the time would probably be too much for our mind and hearts to take.  At least, that's my opinion.  It also gives flexibility to the writers to bring back beloved fan favorite characters/actors. ;)

I think daytime television has also paved the way to make certain controversial subjects less taboo.  It brings more understanding and acceptance.  AIDS was taboo for a long time.  It was one of the big storylines on General Hospital in the 90s.  Then it was a big storyline on primetime (ER).  Homosexuality was featured on One Life to Live in the 90s as well.  I think the world is much more understanding of both these topics.  I'm not saying that soap operas deserve all the credit, but I think that they certainly helped in getting the world to see things differently.

Another big part of daytime television - life and death.  Killing off an important character will create a lot of drama, ripple effects and allow the show of various emotions, and often a murder mystery.  But death doesn't always revolve around important characters.  And sometimes, it involves babies or children.  Of course, that is certainly not a happy storyline, but much like other dramatic stories, it is interesting to see the different perspectives lived through by different characters.  I've seen a couple characters suffer miscarriages.  I've seen one character suffer a stillbirth.  I saw another character lose her 3 year old son to a drunk driver.  Before I started watching, there was BJ's story, where the 8(?) year old daughter of Bobbie and Tony, was hit by a car and gave her heart to save her cousin Maxie who was dying from a heart defect.  Maxie still is part of the show and they refer to that story often.  Most recently, there was the storyline of Gabriel.  He was born very early and went in the NICU.  But he was born too early and did not survive.  This story was very difficult to watch, but I think it was played out beautifully.  The pain the actors portrayed was gut-wrenching.  The mental break the mother had was totally understandable and believable.  The blame the father felt was real.  I've been there.  While it's not a story anyone really wants to see, I think sharing one perspective that is very real, is a good step in telling the world, that hey, this really happens.  Be there for your loved ones if it does.  Offer your arms, your shoulder and your ears to them.

Why General Hospital and not another?  I started watching when I was about 11.  My neighbor's babysitter would watch the show and after watching it a couple times with her, I was hooked.  While I watched on and off for several years, I haven't missed many episodes in the last 10 years or so.  Waste of time? Perhaps, but I've seen many perspectives on many different life situations.  While some of them are far fetched and will never happen, others very well could.  Having seen possible reactions and outcomes, I feel better prepared to face whatever else life wants to throw at me.

Losing my son has been the most painful experience in my life.  The drama, and comedy offered by General Hospital, has given me an outlet.  It's given me something to look forward to - like Monday's episode? Spoiler alert - is Mac okay after being shot by Levi?  What will happen to Maxie and Lulu who are hostages of Levi and his partner? Will Dante and Nathan/James aka Detective Sexypants save them?  Is Jason really alive?  Are Sam & Patrick going to get together?  Will Sonny succeed in seducing his ex-wife Carly?

And at the same time, it keeps me connected to Preston.  Yes, he had to "watch" with me.  Hey, it helped keep me awake during his late night feedings ;)

Sunday, August 10, 2014

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.