Roller Coaster - Ticket for One

As promised, I finally looked up the stages of grief.  I am not sure if I thought that a website link would tell me that grief will last exactly two months and one day or if some how finding out what stage of grief I was in would make me feel better, but neither of these were the case.  I looked at site after site, longing for a time frame, no one would say.  Although, I knew that no one held "the magic answer", but I was really hoping for one.

I did however, find site after site using the word "roller coaster" and ups and downs.  If you knew me, you would know that I DO NOT like roller coasters or ups and downs.  I love amusement parks and Disney World is the best place on earth, but roller coasters or rides that take you "up and down" are not in the least bit amusing to me.  I don't like that feeling in your stomach when a ride takes you up then down really fast.  However, I have been "peer pressured" a couple of times to ride on these hideous monsters called roller coasters.  I normally sit next to the thrill seeking person in my life that called me a "chicken" and coerced me using taunting tactics to ride with them.  Our roller coaster cart climbs the hill and I am sitting there with a giant knot in my stomach knowing that we are going to have to get down this hill.  Their hands go up in the air and they start screaming  "YAY" and I sit there bargaining with God with my eyes squeezed tight, saying "if you just let me off of this ride I will do whatever you want, for real this time.  I will take mission trips, read the Bible every day, and I promise you I will never get on this ride again".  Then I question if my seat belt is buckled properly.  After the ride ends, I generally don't speak to the person that sat next to me on this ride for about 15 minutes.

I really think it is the lack of control that I don't like.  I do not like planes, trains, buses and public transportation, because I am not in control of the driving.  I don't like riding in automobiles driven by other people (you have to be really special for me to ride with you and if you drive crazy just one time, I will NEVER ride with you again, EVER, really ever).  I do not like not knowing what is going to happen.  On my last trip to Disney World, right before I would get on the ride, I would ask the "ride attendant" what exactly is going to happen on this ride, is it going to go off the ground, is it going to get dark, I need to know what is going to happen exactly.  I don't like things to be unpredictable, like roller skates, in-line roller blades, bicycles without training wheels, motorcycles, things that go too high, things that go too fast (and so on).  You will never see me jumping off of any thing, being flung into the air or any of that.

So, you have to know that during my grief research when I read that I was going to be on this endless roller coaster of emotions, I became very distraught.  I knew I was feeling up and down, but I didn't want to know that I could be fine for a few months and then have a total random melt down.  "YAY", I can't wait for that (written with a ton of sarcasm).

Even, love!  I love, love.  I am a hopeless romantic, you know the kind, candle lights, rose petals, dancing and the whole nine yards, but I hate that feeling of falling in love.  Seriously, I remember a few months after meeting my husband, I was so mad at him that I was falling in love.  I hate falling, doesn't that mean that I was high on something and I fell off?  Either way, I remember having these emotions that I couldn't control (I liked him, no I hated him; no, I loved him, no let's break up, no let's stay together forever).  It was crazy and I didn't like the feeling, I couldn't control it and I went kicking and screaming into love with my husband.  Did I say kicking and screaming.

So, in writing this blog entry, I realize that I have a control problem.  I inherited it, I really did, you should meet my mom, aunts, and grandmom "super control freaks".  I realize that I can not control my life and that is something God does, but I would love to make plans that work out.

One good thing about my research on grief is that I found out that cleaning up is often a sign of grief.  I have cleaned closets, dresser drawers, and kitchen cabinets that have been messy for years.  I organized mail and bills and have thrown away a mountain of trash, recycled five boxes of magazines, and took 6 car loads of things to the Goodwill.  I even cleaned out my car (the trunk and the glove compartment).  My husband has changed around furniture in rooms, cleaned out the flower beds and fixed things that have been broken for years.  I thought that somehow Lauren's death brought out the inner organizer in us, but turns out it is just a part of grief (We needed something to control).  I am so glad that I did not run out and get business cards printed up saying "personal organizer to the stars" or something crazy like that, because apparently this too shall pass and my natural "hoarder" personality may return.

So here I sit today, some how on this grief coaster.  Right now, I am hanging on for dear life, I have my eyes squeezed shut, I'm bargaining again to God (the ride attendant) and asking Him what exactly is going to happen on this ride, how long is it going to last, and is my seat belt buckled properly?  I know He is in control and that somehow just like the Zippin Pippin this ride will end.

Daring to Dream Again,
Von

(P.S. - for my non Memphis readers, the Zippin Pippin was the oldest wooden roller coaster in the United States originally located at Liberty Land in Memphis, TN (the location of my first job, ever).  Made famous for being Elvis Presley's favorite roller coaster.  I googled the Zippin Pippin and it has its own blog and web cam.  The roller coaster is being moved to Green Bay, WI and this Memphis girl does not plan on going to WI to visiting or ride the coaster.)

Below are pictures (proof of my hatred of all things up and down) that I took of my husband on rides at Universal Studios in my role as official picture taker.  :-)  You should have seen his green face after getting on these coasters and rides.  For some reason, I think his eyes were probably squeezed shut too, but he would never say that out loud.  Good thing he doesn't read my blog.

It's been one month, now what... (Letter to Lauren)

Dear Lauren Victoria,

One month ago today, you went to be with the Lord and your two brothers (Peter and Peyton). I love you so much baby girl, you were the most beautiful little girl ever made.  You were such a little fighter and a strong baby.  I remember how you would take out your tubes and move your eye mask around.  Everyone was so amazed at how well you did and how feisty you were.  You were defying all the odds, but then your tiny 1 pound body just got too tired.  I cried as I watched your daddy hold you and tell you how much he loved you and how sorry he was as you took your last breath.  We felt so helpless. 

I don't know when I will quit counting the days since you left or when the tears lessen, but I miss you.  I can see your little face in my dreams and certain things remind me of your smell.  I haven't figured out what I am supposed to be doing now that you are gone.  I realize that I am still a wife to your dad and a mother to your brother, but everything seems so off now.  I have this intense feeling of emptiness and moving on seems impossible.  Your dad tells me that you want me to be happy and live my life to the fullest, but I just haven't figured out what my life is without you in it.

It is so hard to give up the dreams that I had for you.  I dreamed of fixing your hair even though, honestly, I think your nana was going to have to fix it, because I have no idea how to do a little girl's hair, but I had this dream of learning.  I dreamed that we would have the type of relationship that I have with my mom and we would have mommy-daughter days.  I dreamed of watching all of your "firsts", your first smile, your first laugh, your first word (which, I'm sure was going to be mama :-), your first step and your first day of school.

I still haven't figured out this grieving process.  I don't know what is right or wrong.  I don't know if there is a such thing as crying too much.  I don't know if maybe I have listened to too many sad songs.  I don't know if I have kept myself closed in my room too long or laid in the bed for too many hours.  Honestly, mommy just doesn't know much of anything these days.

I'm sorry mommy's body didn't hold you in my womb longer.  I am so sorry, Lauren.

Lauren, I want you to know that way you fought to survive was the "strongest most courageous thing " I have ever seen.  I just can not express how proud I am of you.  Mommy is never going to forget you.  Mommy is going to figure out how to make your life matter, at least to me.  Mommy is going to figure out where to go from here, but I am going to take your memory with me.

I love you so much Lauren Victoria and I miss you.

Love you forever and always, Mommy

Come One, Come All, Come See the Pregnant Man with Prison Braids??? (More Grieving Mother Ramblings)

I promise I am going to look up the stages of grief to see what stage I am in, because this roller coaster of emotions either means I am a normal grieving person or I need medication. (Honestly, I probably needed medication years ago).

So, after a chance encounter today I have decided that I feel like a circus/carnival act.  You know the ones at the local fair where you pay tickets to walk inside and see the bearded lady, the smallest man alive, the human donkey.  So come one, come all, come see the girl with multiple baby losses.  I know, I promised to be more upbeat on this blog, but today was a little blah (I have an upbeat story at the bottom of this entry if hearing my grieving rant is too sad).  Today, I finally ventured outside of my room and outside of my house in the real world and I saw this lady that knows me and also knows that Lauren died.  At first, I pretended not to see her, but she turned around to say hello.  We held a mini-conversation and she did not mention anything about Lauren.  She talked to me as if everything was normal.  She did give me this really pathetic look, the look of oh, you lost another baby, but she still didn't mention her.  It really makes me feel sad when people want to talk to me like things are normal.  I'M Not Normal.  My baby girl is dead and that's not normal.  I don't really know what I wanted her to say or if I would rather her just not say anything to me.  For some reason, I have this need to say Lauren's name and for the people around me to at least say her name, because I want her to matter.  I don't want sympathy or people to feel sorry for me, but I want her life to be more than the four days she spent in the NICU.  I don't really know how I want people to respond to me and this is the reason that I still have not been able to talk to my family and friends.  It is really unfair of me to have these random expectations of people and I don't even know exactly what I expect.  I do know that I don't want people to stare at me like I am contagious and I don't want to hear anything negative, like stop trying to have children.  I don't want to hear that for some reason it is better that Lauren is gone, now she is my angel.  I really just wanted my baby girl here at my house with me, my husband and her brother.   So once again, I feel bad that I was even bothered by this chance encounter.

Today, is Lauren Victoria's 1 month birthday.  Happy Birthday Mommy's Princess!  So, maybe this is why I am a little sensitive today.  (See, there was a reason for my roller coaster mood).

Pregnant Man With Prison Braids??? -- A Story From Bed Rest Land
In an effort to be more upbeat.  I am going to tell you about a conversation that I had with my doctor while I was on bed rest at the hospital. 

I have not had my hair relaxed (straightened) in about 2 years, due to an unfortunate relaxer/color incident.  Anyway, I had been at the hospital for 3 days when one of my antepartum nurses walked in and asked me if I needed anything.  I looked at her and said, "Can, I ask you a question?" and she says "sure".  I asked her if there were other African American women on bed rest on this floor.  She gave me with the weirdest look and she was almost to stunned to answer me (apparently this was the most politically incorrect, violation of privacy questions that she had been asked all day).  She hesitantly answered yes and I said, "well, will you ask them what they are doing with their hair?"  She laughed sort of with a sigh of relief, because I don't think she knew where I was going with my question, but she said she would ask around.

A few more days passed and my mom decided it was time to do something about my "bird's nest" - the new nickname for my hair.  It was so sad, she tried combing my hair, which had now turned into a giant matted afro.  As she combed, I was reminded of my childhood, when I would scream and cry as she combed my hair because it was so tangled.  I was trying to remind myself not to cry and that I was 33 years old, but gosh she was really hurting my head.  So, finally we decided that the only thing that could be done to my hair was for her to put cornrow braids in it.  I call them prison braids.  I want to note that I have never been to prison and have never actually seen people in prison with these braids.  I apologize if calling them prison braids is offensive :-).  I called them that because I looked like Queen Latifah from the movie "Set It Off" and she had just gotten out of prison.

The other problem during my pregnancy was the hair on my face was growing like weeds.  When I am not pregnant, I do have to admit that I grow a few facial hairs here and there (okay, quite a few), but nothing like this.  One day for some reason, my mother gave me a mirror and I was devastated by the reflection.  I could feel the hair on my face, but seeing it was horrible.  Quite a few of the hairs on my face were even grey.

I couldn't believe that all of people that had been in my room (my family, friends, the nurses, the doctors) and not one of them mentioned the fuzzy bear that was growing on my face. 

Being on bed rest, is probably one of the most "Un-Cute" times you will ever have, but come on, I was turning into a pregnant man with prison braids and a grey beard!  My doctor comes in and I asked him, if I was his first pregnant santa claus man patient and he laughed so hard that I thought he might pee his pants.  Apparently, he must have thought I looked like a pregnant man, too...

Thankfully, my friend Lisa brought me a few colorful scarfs for my hair and my mom gave me a couple of razors and the problem was solved :-)


Daring to Dream Again,
Von

Today, I'm Not Okay (The Ramblings of A Grieving Mother)

Actually yesterday, I wasn't okay either.  I am not exactly sure what the stages of grief and loss are or how long its socially acceptable to grieve.  But, today, I am not okay.  I am emotionally everywhere (sad, hopeful, happy, angry then sad, hopeful, happy and angry again).  I am angry at my friends and family for assuming that I should be fine.  I am angry that maybe my "acceptable" time for grieving my daughter is done. I am angry that it is the holiday season and I have to plan when I am supposed to be in the hospital holding Lauren in my belly.  I am angry that people anticipate that I am going to be the same Von I was last year.  I am not, and maybe it is only temporary, but I am not the same Von from this time last year.  I am not the same girl that will laugh at your jokes even when they aren't funny, that will listen to your problems and try to find the solution for you, that wants to help.  Today, I don't feel like helping and I don't want to go places, hang out, talk on the phone or be normal. I am not normal.

Today, I am trying to figure out if I agree with the statement that it is better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all.  Is it really?  My husband and I were so pleasantly surprised by our little miracle baby.  We were not trying to get pregnant, but we were overjoyed.  Yesterday, I thought what if this year were different and I had not found out I was expecting my baby girl, there was no bedrest, no NICU stay, no baby in a grave, would I be happier right now?  Probably, but does that I mean I wish she never came, no...

I feel bad for being so emotionally all over the place.  I feel bad for "checking out" as my husband describes it. I feel bad for crying when my son mentions his sister and how she isn't coming to our house.  I feel bad for the people I have not been able to talk to on the phone or let come to my house.  I feel bad that I don't want to come over for Thanksgiving or Christmas.  I feel bad for even typing this blog entry today.  And then I feel angry for having to feel bad....and then I feel bad for feeling angry.... This sucks.

Maybe these emotions are coming up because today we have been dealing with the insurance company, the social security people, finding out about Lauren's death certificate. or maybe because the couple of times, when I finally answered the phone, the people on the other end, didn't even mention Lauren like she didn't exist and they talked to me like nothing ever happened and/or I should move on.

Today, I can't move on, I can't pretend for the sake of others that I am okay.  I can't fake laugh for you to make you feel better.  I can't move on, because today, I am not okay..

And Honestly, I am not even in the mood to "Dare to Dream",
Von

P.S. - I do know that it is going to get better.  I do know that God has a plan, I do know that God is with me, but today He feels a little further away than normal.  Today, I'm just not okay