What did the Hispanic Fire Chief call his two deputies? Jose and Hose B :)

So I wanted to update you all on how my "Happy Goal" is going. I am proud to say that it is going well.  Over the past couple weeks I have been consciously counting my blessings and trying to relish in the everyday moments that make life so wonderful. (I've even been practicing REAL smiles in the mirror) :) I have become a little more dedicated and focused on school. I got a job that is also helping to keep me busy. I have sewed a couple projects I have wanted to finish and have been helping my sister sew her senior prom dress. Little things like that have done wonders in helping me realize that I do have talents and that I CAN accomplish things.  Maybe I can't carry children, but by golly I can sew! :)

However, I have run into a problem that I find so frustrating. In those moments where I recognize that I am happy, I almost immediately feel guilty. Why do I feel guilty for feeling happy? I guess because on some level I feel like it is betraying the memory of what happened. Like being happy minimizes what I have been through. Which sounds so silly when I say it out loud. I feel like being happy means  I have forgotten about my children. Even though I never could forget them. But what woman could be happy when she carries around that memory?

Maybe I should look at the positive. It's okay to be happy. It doesn't mean I have forgotten about them, or that I don't still care or think about it everyday. But no one ever said I am required to be sad the rest of my life because I have buried my four children. I am allowed to enjoy the things I am experiencing in life, right? I guess another part of me wonders what other people must be thinking if they see me smiling and laughing. Do they think I'm heartless?

I don't know. I think this is part of learning how to be happy again. One day at a time, right? All I know is that slowly, but surely, I am getting there. And if I don't always feel happy, "fake it til you feel it" right?

Fumbling My Way to Happiness

This will be short, sweet, and to the point! (hopefully) I have decided it's time to be happy. Yup. A new goal of mine :) A week ago at a church function I kept hearing people tell me to "smile and be happy" Which at the time was so incredibly frustrating and annoying. I mean who are they to tell me to be happy? How about they live the last 6 months of my life and then tell me to smile and be happy? But as time went on I have come to appreciate the council.  They are right. It's time for me to be happy.  Not saying it will be easy and I won't still have hard days, but to be honest, I am so tired of being sad.

It has only been 6 months since the triplets, but in all reality I have been depressed for almost 2 years. I don't even know what it feels like to be happy anymore. I can't tell you the last time I smiled and laughed because I genuinely meant it. All my smiles are more automatic now, because I'm supposed to. And really, I don't even remember how to be happy. I don't remember what it feels like. And those brief times when I think I am happy, it feels silly. It feels foreign.

So here is a new goal of mine: Learn how to be happy. Life is a blessing. We are so blessed. Life is worth living and it's about time I learn how to enjoy it again :) Wish me luck!

Stuck

Well, it has been awhile since I posted and I have a lot of random thoughts so here it goes. This post won't have any deep thoughts or inspirational sentiments or insight. I wanted/needed to write today because....well I'm sad. I'm having a hard time. A really hard time. Where to start?

It has been about 5 months since the loss of the triplets and my leaving the hospital. I have heard that after a traumatic event, you have your initial break down and hard times but semi recover and go back to your life after a few weeks or so. Then at about 6 months you snap and start the whole process over. Almost like a reliving of the traumatic event. Maybe I am having a hard time because I am getting close to being 6 months out. Who knows. All I know is that I am struggling and here is why....

It all basically comes down to one point: I am having a really hard time accepting where I am at in life right now. Last fall, after getting out of the hospital, I spent months just being at home, working on some projects, and spending time with family and friends. I wasn't enrolled in school, and didn't have a job. After all, I was supposed to be taking care of three babies so I hadn't really planned anything outside of the home. Well after some evaluating and soul searching I ended up back in school pursuing my Accounting degree once again. I am just completing my second week of school and am absolutely miserable. I don't want to be here. But if I wasn't here, what else would I be doing? I have absolutely no idea. Because what I WANT to be doing right now isn't really a possibility. Financially or physically. So here I am, doing what I SHOULD be doing. The SMART thing. Finishing school. Don't get me wrong, I have always wanted to go to college and get a degree and better myself. Having an education has always been important to me, because I want to know that I will have something to fall back on should anything happen to Justin. But mostly I want to feel a sense of accomplishment. (another thing I am struggling with). But do you know how hard it is trying to learn things like accounting law, annuities, and information systems when I would give anything to be at home with my kids? What I wouldn't give to be doing that mom stuff.

Last night I got rid of my Facebook. I've done this before and yet always find myself back on it within a few weeks. I am really hoping I can get through my withdrawals this time and be done with it for good. I am having a hard enough time accepting my child-free life without having to see another "look at my cute baby" or "look at my big belly" picture. All it ever does is make me more sad. For a long time I tried to convince myself that it didn't bother me, that I could easily be happy for others without it affecting how I was coping, but that's a lie. It sucks. I don't want to hear any more about your pregnancy. I don't want to see any more pictures of your baby. Harsh? Maybe. But how else am I supposed to be feeling? If anyone else knows how to make it all easier and how I am supposed to be feeling/acting, please share! Otherwise, please be patient and understanding of my sometimes rude/standoffish behavior. I don't not fawn all over your baby because I don't find them adorable, I don't do it because I know if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself from crying and attempting to steal your child and never give them back. I don't attend your baby showers, but not because I'm not happy for you and don't want to share in your big day, but because I don't trust myself not to start bawling and make it uncomfortable for you and all your guests.

I am also in that gosh-awful phase where it's been long enough that everyone has returned to their normal lives and nobody is talking about it anyone, but at the same time it hasn't been long enough that I am okay or stable yet. I have good days, but when I have my bad days, I don't feel like I can ever say anything or talk about it. Why? Because we've moved on from last August. It happened and now it's over. Time to move on. Who wants to keep hearing about how sad I am? No one! And I don't blame them. It's awkward and uncomfortable. What do you say to someone like me? You can't make it better. You can't possibly understand. So all you you can do is sit there, but how does that help anything? I have learned long ago that it is best and easiest to be normal for everyone else's sake because normal people can't handle my depressed self. I have zero motivation to do anything. I used to watch what I ate and exercised everyday. Now? I eat sugar and chocolate all day and only put real clothes on when it's required of me. I have gained 5-10 lbs over the past few months, which may not seem like much, but on a 5'3" small frame it's noticeable. At least to me. Which only adds to my depression.

I spent way too much money over the past few months on stuff for our  house. Why? because shopping for new things makes me happy. It gives me something to do and it gives me something to look forward to. I also chopped all my hair off. It's gone. Why? because it was something new and fun to focus on for a few weeks. Now all that is gone and I am in a panic over what to do or what to buy next to keep my spirits up. I am in a constant search of that next "fix" that is going to make me happy and make me feel like life is worth living. Which is totally dangerous. I mean what crazy thing am I going to think of next?

The sad part is that I have such a wonderful and perfect husband and a wonderful family. They don't always know how to help or what to do and sometimes they make it worse, but by golly they love me and they try. I hate that I am a constant source of worry for them. I reassure them that I am fine because I don't want them to worry about how sad I am, or worry about how to make it better. Because try as they may, they can't fix it. They can't do anything to help and me being sad all the time just makes it worse for them. I am going to feel what I am going to feel, but I don't have to project that onto others who are helpless.

Oh, and just in case you are wondering, I never called the therapist.

Therapy

I think it is time to seek professional help. Yep. I said it. I may need therapy. I honestly feel like I have been able to process and deal with the loss of our children over the past year and a half pretty well. I never before thought I would go down this road. However, over the past few weeks I have noticed aspects in my thought process that I know is not normal. Does this all have to do with just the loss of our children? Partially, but that’s not all of it. There are a few aspects of my life that I have never really been able to process and work through and I think the loss of our children has just magnified problems that have always existed. I know there is a problem, I know why I have this problem, and I know it’s not normal, but I am at a loss as to how to fix it. So I figure while I am making my way through the grieving process, why not deal with everything? Lay it all out there and fix me all at once? Work towards a new and improved Jessica 2.0!

You may be wondering why I am announcing to the world that I’m thinking about seeking professional help. I am kind of wondering that myself. I thought about why I have this blog in the first place. I wanted to start this blog not only to work through my feelings and experiences of infertility/loss, but to try to help others out there understand what this world is like. Infertility and loss touches many lives. Not only for those going through it, but for their friends and family members as well. Everything relationship a woman has is affected by infertility/loss and sometimes it is hard to navigate that dynamic. For awhile I thought I would keep this therapy idea private, that it was no one’s business whether I seek help or not, and to a certain degree that is true. But then I thought about why I wanted to keep it private and I realized that it was because I was embarrassed. Therapy has such a stigma attached to it. When people would mention it as an option for me over the past year and a half I would brush it off thinking, “yeah right, I don’t need to see a shrink.” As if deciding I needed to see a therapist would be admitting that I am not normal, that I am sick in some sense. But this fact is obvious to me now, I’m not normal, and that’s okay. I mean what is ‘normal’ anyway? So I finally decided to post this to my blog to help people realize that seeking help is okay! There is nothing wrong with those who do. Sometimes being able to process certain events is beyond our ability.

I may be a hypocrite in saying this though because after all, I have yet to make the phone call. I have been mulling it over in my mind for a couple weeks now but still haven’t picked up the phone. I don’t know what is stopping me. Maybe I’m scared? Maybe I am still fighting against the idea that I even need it? Who knows? I told Justin it is his job to keep me committed to this and not let me chicken out. I just need to find the courage and buck up and do it! Wish me luck!

Bekah's Poem

My little sister had the assignment to write a poetry book for school. I wanted to use one of her poems on my blog because it is about the loss of our kids. What I like most about it, is it is addressed to my late father who passed away almost three years ago. The reason I am posting it on my blog is that I have thought of my dad often through this whole process and wondered if he was near me, and how much he knows about my children and if they are together. So a big thank you to Bekah for letting me share her poem :)

Letters To The Grave
By Bekah

Hello Daddy.
Can you hear me?
Can you see the things I see?

My sister, your daughter
She's hurting, she's aching.
Her fragile heart just keeps breaking.

Why this has happened,
None of us know.
I try to be strong, but it's all a big show.

Those precious little souls,
Too pure to stay here,
They've gone to a perfect place and have nothing to fear.

Did you meet them,
In the palace above?
Did you console her when she needed your love?

What happens now?
She's all alone.
A huge hole in her heart is all she's ever known.

I stand on the side,
Watching her cry.
Her weak little voice, "why, why, why?!"

I feel so helpless.
What do I do?
I feel so lost and I desperately need you.

Please give me the strength
To lift her up.
And peace of mind in knowing my love will be enough.

I love you Daddy,
And so does she.
In our hearts forever you'll be.

Thanks Bekah :)

Numb

I think it is safe to say I have reached that all too familiar stage of feeling…Nothing. I wouldn’t consider myself sad, but I do not feel happy either. I feel fine. I don’t feel much. So am I making progress? If feeling nothing is better than being sad, then yeah I guess I am progressing.

I hate feeling nothing. I feel so detached, like I am operating through a fog where nothing really gets through to me. It has been awhile since I really cried, but I can’t remember the last time I genuinely laughed or smiled either. My smiles feel automatic, mechanic. I can’t remember the last time I was actually excited or invested in what is happening around me. I am just going through the motions, with no real interest in anything. (I sound like I could be on an anti depressant commercial). But I don’t feel depressed; I don’t spend my time sad. I go through my day like normal, a functioning member of society like everyone else.

What I find most frustrating is not feeling like myself. I look at pictures of Justin and I during our first 2 ½ years of marriage, before all the madness began, and I miss that girl. She was excited about her future and the possibilities were endless. The last two years have sucked that girl dry of any excitement toward the future. I feel like a little kid who just found out Santa isn't real. I feel like I am just existing, doing what I know I am supposed to be doing, but my heart is not in it. I have heard that I will never get that girl back, that I can never be the old me, because I have been forever changed. But I am not so sure I like the new version of me. She is numb, she is not excited about the future, she doesn’t laugh as much, she is not fun. I want the old me back.

This stage for me is the most frustrating. I would rather spend my time moping and crying than what I am doing now, because then I am actually FEELING something. Something is at least affecting me. It’s like I am on a hunt to find something that will produce some sort of feeling from me.

I don’t know how to fix it.

Remembering Details Part 2: Chloe and Daniel

As soon as we knew my water broke and people started showing up, I began to retreat back into myself again. I didn’t keep my eyes closed like with Braden but I couldn’t/wouldn’t look anybody in the eyes. My sister and mom were already so upset and I couldn’t stand to see the look of grief on their faces. I couldn’t look at them, because if I did I would lose it. It’s almost like I could pretend that it wasn’t happening, or avoid the situation if I didn’t look at anyone, but if I looked at their faces it became so much more real.

I remember my doctor finally coming in and how I was both glad and embarrassed to see her. She has always had such a good and comforting demeanor, but I had a hard time looking her in the eye also. I remember wanting to apologize that we had to bother her on a Wednesday evening. I remember wanting to apologize for what she was going to have to do. I am sure no doctor likes delivering babies too early. This was not going to be a fun and exciting delivery and I wanted to tell her I was sorry I didn’t make it. I also felt bad because she had tried so hard to get me these babies and my body was failing once again. I felt like I was disappointing the whole team of people who had taken care of me over the past month. I remember her telling me we were going to deliver the babies, how we were going to cry, and how we would get through it. Then she left the room to get ready. I remember the nurses wheeling me to a delivery room. I also remember cracking jokes as they were moving me. I don’t know why. I think I felt the need to let the people with me know that I was going to be okay, that this wasn’t going to break me. I think a lot of people were worried how I was going to get through this and I didn’t want them to worry about that. I don’t even know what I said, only that I kept saying funny things, trying to make the situation lighter and less awkward for everyone.

I got into the delivery room and I remember them putting a lot of fluid into my IV, which helped flush out the magnesium faster. The effects of the magnesium wore of quicker than usual which was nice. I was so grateful when I got the nurse I did during shift change. Her name was Bethany, she was a taller blonde. She had been my nurse many times in my month in the hospital and I liked her a lot. I was so glad she was going to be my nurse during this whole ordeal. She and Justin even had a little conversation about hunting season starting as we were waiting. I remember a male coming in to give me the epidural. I remember being so nervous about it. I wanted to go pain free this time, Emily and Braden’s births were not something I wanted to repeat. I remember having to sit on the edge of the bed so he could put it in. Justin had to stand in front of me and hold me up because I was still weak and drugged up and had little control over my muscles. I remember sitting on the bed swaying from side to side like I was on a boat and Justin having to hold me still. I remember kind of chuckling to myself; I thought it was funny that I kept swaying. They laid me back down and waited a half hour or so. My doctor came back in and told me she was going to remove the stitch. She told me she anticipated that baby B (which we were thinking was a boy) would come very quickly once she removed the stitch. I remember laying there hearing the clipping of the scissors and being grateful I couldn’t feel anything but movement and pressure. I remember my doctor saying, “Sorry Jess” over and over. From the time she removed the stitch all the way through the D and C of the placentas she kept apologizing. I assured her it was okay and that I wasn’t feeling too much.

Just as she thought, Baby C was ready to come as soon as the stitch was out. Once again people around me were telling me to push harder. And once again I thought, “I don’t want to”. How do you put your whole heart into and push with everything you have when you know your baby is not ready and won’t make it? How do you push hard enough when you want to keep your baby safe inside? I remember hearing the sniffles of my mom and sister crying and hearing my doctor tell me the baby was almost out. When baby B came out I opened my eyes and saw my doctor holding my baby with a confused look on her face. She looked over to my mom and sister and said, “This is a girl baby”. We all went, “what?” It didn’t make sense. Baby B was supposed to be Braden’s identical twin; it was supposed to be a boy. It was a bitter sweet surprise. We had our baby Chloe. My nurse laid Chloe on my chest and I was able to look at her. I remember thinking she looked a lot like Braden with Justin’s nose. My doctor waited to see if the last baby was ready to come, but my contractions started to slow down. I remember her walking to the side of my bed, telling me Chloe was beautiful, hugging me, and told me she was going to give us some time and left the room.

 I remember my mom and sister coming over to see her. I remember saying, “I just don’t understand” and allowing myself to cry for the first time since my water broke. We spent the next hour and a half looking at Chloe and watching my contractions on the monitor. I remember saying a prayer, asking my Heavenly Father to have pity on me and not allow this labor to drag on for hours. I wasn’t excited to deliver my last baby, but the anticipation of what I had to do was worse than actually doing it. I just wanted to be done. Heavenly Father heard my prayer and within a short time I felt a weird sensation all through my belly and a sudden “pop” of pressure. Within just a few minutes my doctor was in the room and Daniel was out in just a couple pushes. My nurse placed him on my chest as well and I just stared at him. He looked just like Emily. It was so weird to look at this baby, knowing it was a boy and a completely new person, but being reminded so much of Emily. I remember having Justin take him while my doctor had to deliver all three placentas. It wasn’t painful but it was uncomfortable. I think I was slightly tilted on the bed because the epidural was working better on my right side than my left side. I could feel cramp-like pain on my left side as she delivered placentas and did the D and C to get everything out. It was a weird sensation.

I remember thinking how relieved I was that I wasn’t feeling much of what she was doing. I had told her after Braden was born that no matter what circumstances, I wanted an epidural when we delivered the last two babies and I didn’t want drugs in my system that made my head all foggy. I had spent Emily’s and Braden’s births totally drugged up, my head so foggy and in physical pain that I felt like I couldn’t take full advantage of the time I had with them. Now here I was, having just delivered Chloe and Daniel, not in pain, no foggy head, with more clarity than I had with the other two and to be honest it was harder. I had no other variables to distract me. All I had this time was the emotional pain. It was so much more harsh and real.

I remember the nurses taking Chloe and Daniel and them putting Pitocin in my IV to get my uterus to contract. They took out the epidural and once the Pitocin was done they took my IV out and it was so nice not to be hooked up to anything. Justin went and got us Wendy’s. I think it was close to midnight by this time. I remember my nurse coming to tell me goodbye, she was going home. She gave me a hug, told me she was so sorry, thanked us for letting her be a part of our experience, gave me a kiss on the head and left. I remember how excited I was when my new nurse told me I could take a bath. After a month on bed rest with sponge baths and an occasional shower, this was going to be great. I remember trying to walk on my wobbly legs and with Justin’s help making it to the tub. It had jets and everything. After taking the relaxing bath and taking a couple strong pain pills, I was pretty comfy back in bed. Once I was situated and laying on my right side, Justin brought Chloe and Daniel over and laid them on the bed with me by my head. They smelled so good and were so cute together. I remember feeling overwhelmingly guilty. I just laid there and said I was sorry over and over in my head. By no fault of their own, my body failed them. There was nothing I could do for them and I felt so bad. I remember not wanting to let them go, but knew I had to. Like ripping off a band aid. I finally told Justin he could take them to the nurses. I remember him picking them up, kissing each of them and took them away. I just cried as he left. I didn’t know it was possible for a body to produce so many tears.

I know it is asking a lot of people to get through these long redundant posts. I mostly did this to preserve everything I still remember as I forget little things everyday. I think it will be nice to look back at these years from now and be able to read such a fresh account of what happened.