Grief... on a Ramble

She said "I think it is grief."
I was shocked. and a bit sad. and a tiny bit relieved. At least someone has a handle on my issues.

I have been through so much grief in me life. I don't want to go down the road of healing from deep grief. The tears. The rage. The utter exhaustion. The denial. The depression. The acceptance.

But how is all of that any different than I have been? I have been through each of those stages at least once in the last year. So why do I fear the journey?

Why am I so sure that the tears will drown me?

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In other news...
There is an exercise known to help brains process trauma and go on to healing. I understand it. It is not mumbo-jumbo woowoo stuff. It is real. It makes sense. (I, once again, owe so much to Sis. Mary for all she taught me.) I cringe at the thought of going through with it. Why? Because I fear the pain I may feel.

Keep moving people. Nothing new to see here...

Pain

So I was reading about birth trauma tonight.
A specific story reminded me of how much pain I endured during both of my boys labors.
But the one at the forefront of my mind is the freshest.
I was WELL on my way to giving birth by the time labor actually started. All things considered it was that perfect start to the rocky road I was choosing. Sometimes I wonder if the choice of road has made my inner pain worse.

But the pain.
I have never been in so much pain.
After surgery, they make sure you don't feel that kind of pain.
If you were at home and had something happen, the first thing you would do is go to ER.
At the time I did not really register how much pain I was in.
The midwife said in all her 20 or 25 years of deliveries she does not think she has ever seen a mama in so much pain and still so strong.

Was I too strong? That has always been the message of my arrows.
Was I a wimp to give up and go for surgery? I know I was not. But I still wonder.
For weeks I could feel the bruising from the source of pain during labor.
I almost relished it. It kept me connected to the truth.
The truth was that I had tried my best and had the best help.
And it was all beyond our doing or undoing.
Some days I still feel "phantom" pain.
The bruising really was pretty severe. It was excruciating.
But then as now, I relish it because it grounds me to the truth.

I did my best.
So why does it hurt so badly?

In my heart.
In my head.
In the scars on my body.

I watch him toddle around.
Nearly trying to run.
When did he get so big?

I look at him and think how much he has grown in the last year.
I look at him and subconciously rub what used to be a very large belly.
I enjoyed being pregnant with him. His pointy butt was so easy to see and touch.
And then one day he was in my arms.
How did he get there? When did that happen?

I well remember the days of longing to see him.
I was uncomfortable. Huge, in fact.
I well remember the days of his tiny fat cheeks.
I wonder how that changed.
What happened?
How did he get here?

Will I ever know?
Does every mother wonder the same?
How did he get here?

Anxiety

So I joined SolaceforMothers.
I am not alone.
I am not crazy.
My pain is real.
Right now, it is very real.
My heart rate is elevated.
My nerves feel hyper vigilant.
I read over (i.e. not in full detail) a couple introductions.
I found a couple suggestions for trauma treatment and help.
The three pages I followed up with for that was too much.
I should have known better.
It will take a while for my breathing to return to normal.
Praying I don't dream about those dark places in my head,
I am off to bed.

Alone

There were lots of people.
Plenty of food.
More popcorn than necessary :)
Chatter and conversation all around. Yet I felt so lonely.
I talked to 2 people for a few minutes. Snippets with a couple others.
Longest conversation was less than 5 minutes.
We stood around for nearly an hour and a half.
I did not seclude myself. I was in the midst of it all.
Where were the people?
They flowed right by on every side. They said excuse me from behind and I'm sorry from in front.
But they kept going.

How do you build friendships?
I never thought I, of all people, would have trouble making friends.
After our touching service tonight, I wonder how long it would be till I was another Ruth.
My small hole filled and few remember.

I feel so alone.
The cry of my heart is the Call of Life.
Am I really the only one?

Dreams

Do you dream?
I have been.
I hate it.
They are sad dark dreams. I don't really know what happens.
Is there a story line?
I don't remember. But my gut says yes.
It is babies. I wake in puddles of milk.
It is sad mamas. I wake so restless.
It is the tears of my heart.

Testing

I thought I was as tired as I could get. (well I knew that was not quite true because I have been in much worse places during the last year, but those horrors aside... )
I was tired.
I was so so so ready to sleep. My head hurts from lack of sleep. My body was hurting. My heart was slowly shredding.
I collapsed in those cool sheets.
And sleep did not come.
I shared my fears with The Man I Love.
Eventually, snuggled much closer than normal, I went to be with the sandman.

Only to be awakened an hour later by BabyBoyBlue and his tears.
Earache.
Nearly two hours later, sleep called again.

Only to be awakened an hour and a half later.
Hungry. Earache.
I brought him to bed.
It was long till he slept.

Only to be awakened about two hours later.
Grumpy. Hungry. Earache.
How long, O Lord, must I endure this routine?