A watched water dispenser doesn't make bubbles

Our cats are funny creatures.  When we change the water in their bowl/dispenser, they sit next to it for hours because as the water first dispenses, air bubbles make it into the tiny water jug.  They try to get them by batting at it or grabbing it with their paws.  It's actually become a hobby of theirs to watch this water dispenser, even when we haven't just changed their water.  It bubbles so seldom, yet they continue to patiently wait for movement, like the small predators that they are, ready to pounce.  Don't they know that a watched water dispenser doesn't make bubbles?

I feel a little clever for finding a way to fit the popular saying to fit my situation - a watched pot doesn't boil.  What am I trying to say with all these metaphors?  Sitting by a window, staring at the sky won't make a rainbow appear.  In the middle of winter, I can't expect to see bunnies at every corner.  I can't spend my every waking moment looking for signs, yet I find myself doing just that.  I try not to, but it becomes difficult when the signs are few and far between.  I think after Christmas, I stopped looking for a little while.  Not because I didn't want any, but because I got busy at work, at home.  I kept really busy actually.  This does not mean Preston wasn't on my mind.  I think about him constantly, day and night.

And that's when all those signs appeared.  I wasn't looking for them, but I believe in them.  Much like when my cats aren't looking at their water dispenser, it will occasionally create an air bubble.  They could sit there all night and not get a bubble, and there it would be, 2 minutes later.  Or hours later.

In the grand scheme of things, I can't teach my cats patience, but I myself have grown to have a lot of patience.  With myself.  With others.  With my health.  With time.  Slowly, I hope to learn patience in between signs sent by Preston.  I don't know how Heaven works.  Maybe angels can only do some so often.  Maybe he's busy spreading happiness halfway around the world.  Maybe sending signs requires moving Heaven and Earth.  Whatever it may take, I will try to have more patience.  I will try not to expect signs every day.  I will attempt to not be too sad when I go days, weeks without one.  I'll never stop hoping for them though.  Keep sending them Preston :)

Thanks for sending bunnies to Jocelyn today.  She sent me nice pictures.  Always makes me smile when someone else thinks about you and tells me about it.  You live on my love, my sweet Preston.  You always will...

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.

Inspirational quote

There are millions of inspirational quotes out there.  You can find quotes on just about any topic.  I found myself looking at infant loss quotes when Preston first passed.  While many of them made me ball my eyes out, I think in the end they made me feel better because it gave words to my emotions.  It allowed me to release my sadness, it allowed me to do it at my pace, and it allowed me to do so during a time that was special to Preston and I, late evenings.  Late evenings were really tough on me right after we lost him.  Brett would go to bed at around 9:00 and Preston would have a feeding at around 10:00-10:30, so we would hang out for awhile, or he would nap while I cleaned.  After his feeding though, he was alert and wanted to play, so we did until his bedtime.  I would then rock him to sleep, or read to him, or sing him songs.  I think he was the only one who could stand listening to me sing, poor Preston, lol.

I was reading through a magazine a little earlier and read a quote that gave me the idea for this post:

"Be patient and persistent.  Life is not so much what you accomplish as what you overcome." - Robin Roberts

Patience.  You need a lot of patience when you lose a child.  Patience to get through each day.  Patience to learn to live again.  Patience towards others.  My biggest pet peeve right now is people complaining about petty things in life.  It's even worse when children are involved.  "My kids are driving me crazy" or "My kids are keeping me up, I'm so tired" come to mind.  The first thought that comes to my mind when I hear/see these comments - at least you have your kid(s).  But, I do have to be patient with others.  They haven't experienced what I have, nor do I want them to.  Perhaps being exhausted is the hardest thing they've had to deal with.  If they are, they're incredibly lucky.  While, I feel society in general needs to be more sensitive and open to hear about infant loss, as the parent to an angel, it doesn't give me entitlement to say or do whatever I want.  I need to have more patience in dealing with certain situations.  While I think about my baby every day, it's normal that I encounter a lot of people don't know about my loss, or encounter people who don't think about Preston every day.  It's highly possible that many people close to me think about him every day, especially if you read my blog, but even then, the sting isn't there for you like it is for me.  You all have your troubles, and I'm not hear to judge on who's got it worse.  We all deal with difficulties and there's really no way to compare them.  I feel like I'm generally very patient, and I am working hard to get rid of this pet peeve.  Time will tell.

Persistence.  I've needed a lot of persistence.  It would be so easy to stay in bed all day and just let myself dwindle away.  I've heard many times, "I don't know how you do it".  There are many days where I don't know how I do it.  But frankly, I know that I don't have a choice.  Time doesn't stop.  Life doesn't end.  While I feel that part of me died on March 13th, I'm still standing.  I still feel, I still hurt, I still smile, I still have to eat.  I still have to have my Remicade treatments every 7 weeks.  I still have to work to afford everything I've come to be accustomed to.  I still have to work to be able to provide for my future children, should we have any.  I still have to work to build up enough for retirement one day.  I still want to work, because it makes me feel accomplished.  I still want to work, because it gives me purpose.  I still want to work, because I enjoy it.  While keeping on going isn't always easy, I need that persistence in my life.  Who knows if Crohn's is going to kick me down so hard that I can't work.  I hope it's never but it's hard to have to think that one day, I could not be able to work.  I hope I'm retired by the time that happens, if it happens.  The possibility of having certain things being taken away from you gives you a different appreciation than you would have without it.  I appreciate being able to work.  I appreciate being able to eat a salad, which is something I couldn't eat for over a decade.  Thank you surgery!  While I appreciated Preston more than he will ever know, while I appreciated being a parent, should I ever be blessed with that joy again, I will have a different kind of appreciation.

Accomplishments versus overcoming obstacles.  Any accomplishment I've had has made me feel very proud.  Getting good grades in school.  Getting the administrative assistant job I wanted while I still lived in Montreal.  Getting my own apartment.  Buying a house.  There are countless things I am proud of.  Not to lessen any of these things, but I'm much prouder of the obstacles I've defeated.  I had surgery to remove portions of my bowels due to excessive scar tissue caused by constant flare ups.  This was a pretty serious surgery, but as soon as I could walk, I was walking to recover as soon as possible.  I went to the gym when my scars were healed to build up my abs, and lose some of the weight I'd gained through taking Prednisone, the devil pill.  I'm incredibly proud of how I pushed through the pain.  While I had some assistance during the first couple of weeks thanks to my friends Morphine and Lidocaine, as soon as I could bear it, I stopped using narcotics to help me through the day.

After my C-section, again, I was walking around as much as possible.  I wanted to be able to be with Preston, and I wanted to be without pain meds.  I walked through the pain, through the pulling, tugging and horrible sensations in my already scarred abdomen.  I'm incredibly proud of my recoveries especially when I think about my first surgery.  I had my gallbladder removed in 2009 and I feel like I was a wimp.  I didn't recover quickly nor does it feel like I tried really hard.  It just felt difficult and I let it get the best of me.  Granted, I was also dealing with Crohn's flare-ups, but I'm still not proud of that recovery.

Now, I'm having to overcome losing my firstborn, my only child, my sweet happy baby boy.  I'd go through a thousand more surgeries if it meant I could have him back.  I'd live my life in physical pain day in and day out, if it meant that he'd still be here.  I'd take his spot in a heartbeat.  Unfortunately, that's not how it works.  I've had to find a way to be motivated to get up each day.  I've had to find way to eat, sleep and not drive myself crazy by thinking about the day we lost him for every moment of every day.  I've had to find a way to not drown in my own sorrow.  I think my past experiences has helped me overcome losing Preston.  Losing Preston is no obstacle, it's a life altering event that will be with me every day of my life.  Without dealing with some of the obstacles I've had to deal with, I don't think my mind and heart would be in as much peace as they are in 4 and a half months later.  I think it also has to do with who Preston was.  The happiness that radiated from that little boy definitely makes a difference to me.

So keep on keeping on my friends.  Life will throw obstacles at you.  It's all about how you overcome them and the attitude that you have while working through them.  Wishing you a blessed Sunday!