Monday, June 26, 2017

Almost one. Trigger happy.

I had been noticing the last few weeks that my sleeping patterns have been worse than usual, which isn't saying much because I don't sleep well as it is anyways. I have been feeling irritable and on edge, panicky, and nervous. I feel like running and I don't know why. I feel scared, terrified and I couldn't figure out why.

Until last week when Olivia asked me what we were doing for Lucy's birthday. And then it dawned on me. She's going to be one soon. I'm having a PTSD trigger episode. I vaguely remember my counselor telling me I may or may not experience this, not everyone does, but here I am.

The closer I get to Lucy's birthday the more scared I get. I have no reason why, rationally I know I have no reason to be scared, I know I'm not going to die again. I'm home, my medications are managed, my health is managed as well as it can be, the Amniotic Fluid Embolism could not have been predicted nor prevented, I did nothing wrong, all of this I know.

I know it.

Logically, I know it.

Mentally and emotionally?
I'm terrified. I'm nervous. I'm angry. I'm reliving all of the emotions I've spent the last year working on moving past. I'm angry that any of this has happened to me. I feel like I'm being punished. If I hadn't wanted more children, this wouldn't have happened. I should have just been happy with what I had.

I feel guilty for feeling that way. There are millions of people in the world who would give anything to have a baby and look at me, being a hot mess of a mom. They could be doing a better job. They could love them better.

I feel frustrated because this entire year every doctor has told me, "it's only been XX months, wait until it's been a year, you'll be so much better" and now we're approaching that year and surprise... I'm not better. I'm not like I was the day I came home, thankfully, but I'm still not the Sara I was when I went to the hospital on August 1, 2016. Aside from my pituitary issues and my water regulation issues which bore people to death but are life threatening and serious, its my depression and memory issues that scare me the most. I can't remember to feed my baby. You'd think by kid four feeding and and changing a diaper would become muscle memory but it doesn't. I forget I have to feed Lucy. Or change her diaper. Put her in for a nap. Driving? I run red lights. Stop signs. I can't figure out four way stops. I space out if the radio is on so I often drive without it on now because it's distracting for me. I never drive with just the babies in the car because I'm convinced I'll forget them in van. Reading books isn't as easy as it was, it takes me longer because sometimes I don't understand what I'm reading. If I'm tired I can't understand what people are saying. If someone gives me directions I won't remember them. I can't count coins without help. I'll start crying for no reason. Stress makes my ability to remember and do things go right out the window.

I went in as me and I came out as a totally different person and nobody told me how to do that. Nobody told me how to get used to people treating me differently because I'm not the same.
I spent this weekend looking at some of Lucy's pictures thinking I should start her baby book and I realize I don't know how to do that. I don't remember my pregnancy. I don't remember any of it. I don't remember giving birth to her. I get so angry that all of those first moments with her I have no memory of. She is my last baby and it feels so cruel to be punished in such a way that I don't have the memory of holding her the first time. It's bad enough that I don't remember delivering her but to not remember having her handed to me and getting to kiss her? It's awful.

That's what I keep saying to my therapist, that I don't think people truly understand what it's like to have died and then come back from that and then be missing entire chunks of memory. It's not like I'm missing things like what I ate for breakfast today, I'm missing my wedding day. Birth of my children. Major events of my life, those are things I can't recreate. Those are gone. It's not like a vacation and you think, well- I'll just go there again and use my pictures as a road map! Nope, I can't make another Lucy. Or another Jackson. I can't get married again.

Sigh.

So yes. Almost one year. It's hard. I'm getting there. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard. I don't know what I'm going to be like on the actual day, I'm almost scared to think about it to be honest.

4 comments:

Dominique @ Ohbeehave said...

So sorry to hear you are having such a difficult time. It's OK to feel however you are feeling. This is your journey and no-one else's, no-one should make you feel as though you should be grateful for having something that others don't have or compare yourself to others in any way (I know, so much easier said than done!) and I'm sure there is no-one who could be a better Mum to your kids but you... because you are you!

I'll be thinking of you and I hope things start getting better for you soon x

KimBerly said...

WOW! Thank you for sharing. I can't imagine what you are going through but I want you to know that I am sending positive vibes your way. Time heals all. I know that doesn't help you right now but it has to get better, right? I admire your honesty and being able to talk about it. I will be thinking about you.

Bethie The Boo said...

I'm sorry you're dealing with all of that and I pray things start turning around getting better. One day at a time!
Beth
http://www.thebethnextdoor.com

jenn said...

i pray that the day is easier for you than you think it will be. that your friends will be better for you and love you as they had once done, because i think they love you differently now, and my heart hurts for you because of that and because so much of your joy has been stolen from you through the loss of the memories you should be treasuring. i hate that you must endure this. i pray for better for you.