New sleep schedule?

Out the window.  I am back to not feeling tired and not being able to fall a sleep easily.  Blech.  I guess it is some comfort knowing I was always like this, it isn't just because of the stress and losing my son.

So here I am, almost midnight and wide awake.  Tomorrow it will be hard to wake up, and I will be drained all day.  Then, 10 pm rolls around, or I get into bed and BAM!  wide awake.  Such a viscous cycle.  It doesn't help that D snores...rofl.

Weekly seems like enough, maybe?

Well, last week I was working on my project for my nutrition class.  I finally finished it up today.   

The past few days have been tough for me, just sad and crying a lot.  Not full out sobbing, just getting teary eyed for no apparent reason.  Then I remember and reality hits me in the face, I am the mother of a dead baby.  And I miss him, and I am jealous of the most ridiculous things.  I see a pregnant woman and I am okay, sometimes a newborn baby boy is difficult, but not too bad.  No, I am jealous of the other mommies of dead babies, some of them have better pictures then I do, some of them got to hold their baby when it was still living, some were not afraid to touch thier own baby so they held their tiny little hand.  I am jealous of other mothers of dead babies, how can that be?  We are suppsoed to stick together, none of us had a good experience, none of us had sunshine and rainbows with the birth of our precious little bundles, yet I am jealous.  How messed up is that?

Then too I don't know what to think about how I grieve.  Some women in my situation are so angry and hold on to that anger.  I am angry, but I don't know where to direct it.  At God?  At Colm? At myself?  At David?  There doesn't seem to be a good outlet for that so I let it go.  Some barely function in life, they have anxiety attacks and can't go out of the house.  I don't feel that way.  Yes, I cry, but I am not hysterical like I thought I would be before this happened to me.  When I thought of other women and how they deal with the lose of their baby.  I always thought I would be crazy with grief and I am not.  So I feel awkward as Mikey would say.  I feel like I am not doing this right.  I shouldn't be able to smile and laugh.  I should cry.  And I do cry, but I laugh more.  I smile, I feel happiness, but I feel like I am not supposed to know happiness since my baby is dead.  I am supposed to have infinite sadness, yet I don't.  But, I do.  I am sad.  Some days are hard and sadness prevails, but mostly I am happy and function very well.

I think, maybe I should go to Mental Health, but I don't know what they would do for me.  I talk about COlm, we love him and he is precious to us.  But, do I need to talk to someone else?  What would they provide?  Happiness?  I have that.  Peace of mind?  I doubt I will ever have complete peace since we don't know why he died.  Eh, I just don't think talking about him with someone I barely know will help me anymore than talking about him here, or with my friends and family.  Maybe I don't feel like I need professional help because of my close family and my good friends?

I don't know.  This whole process is just so new to me.  I miss my baby.  I want my little boy back.  But reality is he is gone and I will just have to wait to see him.  But I really, truly miss him.

New sleep shedule

So supposedly getting enough sleep leads to weight loss. So I will be trying to get to bed before 11 p.m. I usually stay up until about 12, or later. With the summer coming and the sunlight lasting longer this will be difficult. I need to have 'me' time, you know that small sliver of quiet when the children are in bed? Or at least in their rooms not being too loud? Well, this time of year it is difficult to get them to settle down before 9:30, which of course leaves very tlittle time for me to wind down, pick-up the house a bit, etc.

Ahhh. I know sleeping more will be good for me, but I like the time on the computer, the time to watch some TV. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it.

So with that siad it is off to bed. THe time is now 10:07 p.m., or 2207 for us military types.

Good night all. Tomorrow, up early and to the gym. I will get rid of this belly. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Long week is over

So last week was 12 hour shifts. I am very happy that is over, and that I survived. I had good news last week, I will be taking my fitness test in November instead of July. That gives me plenty of time to get myself back in shape. I feel lot better knowing I won't have to hurt myself to get back in shape. It was bad enough losing Colm, but when I heard July 7th was my test date I almost fell on the floor.

Now, the decision to stay or get out. Urgh. I only need about 10 more years and then I can retire. The benefits are good. The rational mind knows retirement is important. The emotional side that is still wounded keeps thinking that September is a nice time to call it quits. Ah, what to do?

Hmmm, anything else for right now? Other than it being difficult/sad recently? I know that I will always feel sad, but will church always make me cry? Will I get past that? I don't *think I am angry at God, but for some reason I always cry at Mass. Today the priest stopped before St. Anthony before leaving the church and it got the tears flowing, again. I feel so sad for David today. I will have a year before I have to go through my first Mother's Day without Colm. It hasn't even been six weeks for Dave. He handled it like a champ though. He is my rock, I love him so much. I am thankful that this loss has not pushed us apart, on the contrary it has brought us closer together, and helped us be better parents. A silver lining? I guess, but not worth the pain and suffering.

Just frustrated...

With everything.  Myself, the kids, D, everything.  I don't know if it is losing Colm or the stress from work.  I just don't know.  

I have to work 12 hour shifts all week and I am not looking forward to that.  I don't think I have a modified schedule for patients either, and I am not looking forward to that.  I need to make a follow-up with the midwives, really not looking forward to THAT.  I am looking forward to vacation in July, it can't come soon enough.

I guess I don't feel like saying anything right now.  I thought I did, but now not so much.  I feel like I am neglecting this though and that if I don't write here I won't be accomplishing my gaol for this page, which is to help me through this junk.

Okay, so I lied

Reading over the other post, I guess it is bad.  No, work wasn't but everything associated with it is.  It sucks, it sucks a lot.  And I don't want to deal with it.  I just want it all to go away.  I just want to say screw it, and not even try to re-enlist.  Just get out.  I could do that.  And I have about 60 days of leave, so my last day would be in August.  Do you know how nice that sounds?  Less than three months until I could have freedom?  God it sounds just so tempting.  Just screw it and move on in life.  If I don;t have to worry about re-enlistment most of my stress would go away.  Of course it would open up new stress.  But, I can pass my licensing test.  I could get that and work a civilian job.  I might not make as much, but I could do it.  I would be happier.  Less bullshit to put up with.

But, then I would miss it.  I love being in the military.  I love serving for my country.  It is who I am.  My entire adult life has been dedicated to service.  I don't want to just turn my back on it.  Did I mention that this is beyond stressful?

Not too bad

Work was okay.  A few looks, you know like someone wanted to say soemthing, but didn't know what to say?  I prefer that.  I would rather someone not mention it then to say something stupid or hurtful.  And, unfortunately, even the most well meaning people say hurtful things sometimes.

I saw my medical record though.  I didn't know a 24 week stillbirth could be coded as a 'missed miscarriage'.  Or that my 24 weeks of gestation ended at 20 weeks.  Yeah, my records are wrong.  So now I have to go and figure out how to get them amended.  Mostly it wouldn't matter.  But, if I PCS to another large medical facility where I have OB care on base, well then it might matter.   Really, although both are emotionally difficult, both are devastating and life altering, a miscarriage and stillbirth are not the same.  Doctors look for different things with a stillbirth, different causes, different treatments for future pregnancies.  I can't stand when people don't do their jobs right.  I told the doctor more than one time that I was 24 weeks, so why as it wrong?  Could part of it be that he already decided what he wanted to do about my leave?  Could it be that if he changed it to 24 weeks, then he couldn't justify sending me back to work after just 2.5 weeks?  Who knows.  But, I can tell you it is frustrating.

So tomorrow i get to go to the 'fat girl' class.  The one I have been going to once a month for 3 years, yeah that one that doesn't help me in anyway at all.  Fun.  I get to sit there with all the other fat people, get the pity looks from the nutritionist and exercise physiologist.  Have someone else refuse to acknowledge the significance of a 24 week lose.  Answer questions I don't care to answer.  Do a 60 minute spin class, because my profile expired.  Fun.  All because I have to worry about my career because I might not get to re-enlist.  Nice.  So not looking forward to that.  Oh, yeah and it is during lunch.  Great.

Okay this is really negative.  I hate being so darn negative, but I am just feeling so beaten down.  I have to be 'happy' and put on my game face for work.  I know in my head I can be sad, cry, maybe they will send me home, but that isn't ME.  I don't do that.  I lose my baby, and now I might nose my career all because of a disease I can't control.  If I had a bum knee I could get a waiver for that, but you can't get a waiver for weight because that is the disease of laziness.  God, I am far from lazy.  I work hard and my body doesn't' cooperate.  I WANT to be thin, heck I would be happy to be 150 pounds.  I want to pass that damn test.  I HATE being a failure.  That seems to be me right now, failure.  

I need to be positive to have a positive attitude and push myself to do what needs to be done. I will, I will push myself, but I am so afraid that it won't work again.  That I will be so good, eat right, exercise and still not lose the weight.  I don't know if I can handle that again, right now, so soon.  It is too much pressure.  Just too much.  The future of my family rests on this one damn test.  Did I mention I was told today I would have to take it in July?  Yup, just finished six months of pregnancy, but I get 42 days to get in shape and pass the test.  I know I can't lose 30 pounds in those few weeks.  That isn't even safe.  So I am screwed from the get go.  I don't even know how well I could run by then.  Why does all of this have to happen now?  Talk about stress.

Oh, and the Pollyanna in me keeps thinking'  "Well, they thought you were 20 weeks.  If they *knew you were 24 they would have more compassion, more understanding."  But, Pollyanna is dying inside me.  I have always been able to find a silver lining, there was always a positive spin, but they are harder and harder to find these days.  I just feel so beat down.

We'll see

Well, it is back to work tomorrow. I a really not looking forward to it. But, what else can I do. More on it tomorrow when I get home, hopefully it isn't too bad.

I feel like writing, but have nothing to say.

I don't even know how to feel, what to think, what to say, what to do. I want to say everything, to write everything to just let it spill out, but nothing seems to be right. I type and it feels wrong, I peak and I stumble over what I mean. Blah, it is frustrating.

It is back to work on Monday, work with its own set of frustration and hurt. Work, where the doctor was so callous and egotistical. Work, where patients will know and look. Some will say kind things, others will say things they mean to be kind but will wound, and still others will say nothing at all, but will still look. The pity. Oh how I hate the pity. Just say you are sorry. If you are a chick, give me a hug and say nothing. But, please, please don't look at me with pity. I am not a child that lost my bag of candy on Halloween. I didn't fall and scrape my knee. I lost my baby, my baby died and he won't be coming back. Don't give me a pitying look because if you do I might just turn into a crazy lady.

Sometimes I sit and think about how different things are, and others I feel no change at all. I feel hollow inside, I feel tired and raw. Yet I feel the same. I have four children, wait, no Caroleigh counted and I have five, she said so, 'mommy you have five kids, but my baby brother, he died.' And she is right, I have five children, but people will only see four. When I talk about my births, I have had 4 vaginal births, four VBACs, but how do I tell people that? When they count my children they will see just four. Will I want to always tell them about Colm? Will I want always to see their sadness, their pity, the fear? But, if I don't tell them, then I deny my son. I abandon him and then does he begin to not exist, even in my heart?

So back to work. I used to sleep fine, then the doctor said I was able to work. And his attitude, his mannerism, his lack of professionalism, all of them sent me into a downward spiral. Knowing that others felt they knew better, never asked me but made decisions for me anyway. Knowing I was being treated as less than the person I am. The emotional punch was profound, and since that day sleep has been difficult. How frustrating, for the first two weeks i escaped the sleep issues and then the person who should have been helpful and compassionate kicked me int he gut and sent me deeper into the difficulties associated with stress.

So back to work Monday. I am not ready, I may never be, but this Monday is still just too soon. It hasn't even been a month. Not even four weeks, and it is still just too soon.

The Doves

There are doves that hang out near our house now. I don't know if they are there every year, but we didn't notice them until the morning after we got home for them hospital. We can hear them outside the window, and see them perched on the house across from us. I like them, they bring me comfort. Colm's name means 'dove' and I feel like he is sending a visitor to our house to remind us of him.

So, I have to decide if I take next week off too. I want to, but as usual I am worried about work and if they can afford to have me gone another week. I know they will survive without me, but I hate being 'that person' that doens't carry their weight. At the same time, I don't want the pitying looks from patients, I am NOT ready for that. I don't know if I will ever be, but for right now a little more protection would be good.

On a positive note my brothers and cousin are home safely from Iraq! They got in this week. We are hoping to spend some time with them if they get free time this weekend.