rough patch

The last few days have felt like a little bit of an emotional nosedive with a few ups and twists and twirls.  I don't know why some days are harder.  There have actually been a few days in the last 2 weeks where I have not cried.  The emotions are not always this volatile. 

Maybe it's still post pregnancy hormones--I'm only 6 weeks postpartum. 

Sometimes I think it's because I question my "babymaking" abilities.  Maybe I didn't take enough of this or that vitamin, should have exercised more, should have slept more.  Maybe I try to do too much, and I shouldn't.  Maybe I have a genetic defect...I miscarried the one before this. 

Sometimes I hurt because I question myself as a mother.  I wonder if I was a better mother, if I had a more peaceful, clean house, would that have helped?  Could Gideon have stayed if my home was the picture of peace and perfection, and if my children were harmonious?  Did he get to take a look at us on a day when his brothers were yelling at each other, ready to throw punches, and think "Are you kidding me?  I'm not staying with them!"

Sometimes it's because I feel jealous of other parents with healthy babies, and then I feel mad at myself for being jealous.  I got to hold that foster baby last week, whose parents have had to let him go at a month old.  How come they got to have a healthy baby?!  And a sweet couple in my local congregation blessed their baby boy last Sunday (and I sat at the organ and cried) as the father blessed him with a long and healthy life.  And I'm SO happy for them that they have a healthy baby, and I wouldn't take it away for anything, but I feel jealous, and I DO NOT LIKE TO FEEL JEALOUS of other people, especially when I have a bajillion reasons to be happy and grateful.  (Such as four beautiful children, a great extended family, tons of wonderful friends who watch out for me and keep checking on me, a husband who is loyal and loving, the chance to go back to school because so many people are helping with my 3 year old, musical talent, a nice house, I can go on.)

As I sat in my meetings yesterday, I was looking at pictures of Jesus with my 3 year old, and we saw one of Jesus sitting, teaching a large group of people.  I looked at it for a while, and a few words from the Sermon on the Mount came to mind:

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.... Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.  (Found in Matthew 5 or 3Nephi 12)

 

I didn't remember ALL of that word for word.  I did remember pieces of it, though, and I am grateful for reasons to look up happy promises in the scriptures.  Those words were the comfort I needed to get through yesterday.  I am mourning, and I WILL be comforted.  More than ever now, I am trying so hard to be righteous, to be the best self I can, because I know Gideon was such a special spirit, and I know that my thirst for hunger and righteousness will be filled.  My spirit hurts, and it is more humble now than it probably ever has been, but if I can go to the kingdom of heaven by being poor in spirit, then I will take the blessing that goes with the pain.

 

Truly, the words of those scriptures were powerful in my heart, and helped me so much yesterday.  It was still hard.  I cried a lot.  Today has been hard, I've been on the verge of tears quite often.  The current chapter in my Human Development textbook is covering pregnancy and birth...and I'm sure that has something to do with it.  It makes those feelings fresh and tender again.  And I'm afraid for tomorrow.

I have my post-partum Dr. appointment tomorrow, and I have never dreaded going to the doctor so much.  It's not the speculum (though that's definitely no fun...), it's the memories.  Even the smell of the soap triggers memories of ultrasounds, worry, hope, fear, excitement, the sound of his heartbeat.  And I don't want to talk about it.  I feel like a kid--when they are feeling all uptight and upset and over-reacting, and you ask them what's going on and they reply "I don't want to talk about it."  That's totally me right now.  (And so I'm blogging about it...oh the irony.)  Blogging is easier than talking, though, I can share without having to hear my own voice, or other people's voices. 

Sometimes I can talk about it just fine, there are moments when I can very matter-of-factly tell children  who ask (my kids' friends and my piano students) or even adults about what happened and why I lost my baby, but throw the Dr. and the nurse who were there for the pregnancy into it, and the office with the ultrasound machine where my doctor said "I've never seen hydronephrosis that bad" (hydronephrosis is fluid backed up in the kidneys) and I'm not sure I will be just fine. 

Maybe it shouldn't be a big deal, and I keep trying to tell myself that I shouldn't psych myself out about it. Anyone who knows me knows that I worry and sometimes overthink and stress when I shouldn't.  And I'm stressing about tomorrow.  I'm afraid I'll be diagnosed with postpartum depression.  I shouldn't fear it, but I do.  All along, I had planned that I should still be seeing this doctor for a healthy pregnancy for the next month and then deliver my baby later this month, or early in October.  The way things happened was just...well, not the way I had planned it, and I know tomorrow will remind me of that.

I keep trying to remember that Gideon is still mine.  The pregnancy was not for nothing.  BUT HE IS NOT HERE.  And that's been REALLY hard the last two days.  And the rain...the rain.  God loves me, he takes care of me.  I feel a little bit crazy with the swirling emotions of the last 2 days. The blessings and emotions both fall like rain, there are bright spots like lightning, and there are times when the pain is as real and strong as thunder.  I feel loved.  I feel hurt.  I feel lost.  I am glad to be busy with harvesting and homework.  I love the memories I have, and I treasure them, and they hurt.  I love holding babies, it feels so good, it helps.  But it hurts a little too.  It feels so good, but I miss him.  I love being busy with school, it helps.  But even that hurts, as we talk about human development, and baby instincts, and bonding.  I don't want to forget him, but there are those moments... 

I know if he could, he'd probably tell me to quit fussing and worrying.  I do feel that he is happy where he is, and that he's where he's supposed to be.  (It just wasn't what I had planned.)  I do feel that he is busy doing good things.  I have a sweet sister-in-law who was a friend and example to me, and she is with him, and both of my Grandpas, and my husband's aunt, and many others are with him.  I know he's a special spirit, and I know I need to be busy doing good things here and now, and that I need to hug my kids more, learn more, teach more, be better.  These last few days, it has been hard to be grateful in my trial, but every day isn't this hard, because I do see that I am hungering and thirsting after righteousness more, being made humble, teachable, poor in spirit.  And I can see it in my family.  And I know I will be blessed for all those things, and our family has had a huge lesson in what is most important. 

But I still don't want to go to the doctor.