Getting better

The healing process from our experiences with Hannah and her troubles is an interesting one. At first, it is overwhelming and you feel like the most worthless being on the planet. Then one day, things start to get better. And better. And better. Until you start to let your guard down. And that is when things get really messy. As I have worked through my feelings and emotions, I unintentionally put a little bit of that guard back up. Quickly stuffed the worst and scariest feelings into a cardboard box, shoving it high onto a closet shelf. I took my big marker and wrote "Do not open - ever" on the outside of the box. I thought that was all I had to do. Until this week, when that last little bit of the guard came crashing down.
I saw one of my online friend's pictures of her freshly baked newborn. No tubes. Fabulous skin to skin time. Nursing in bed without pumps and residual volumes. And all of a sudden, these terrible feelings came out of the box. Like someone had ripped off the tape and dumped the box upside down. I am not saying that I want her to experience what I have. Not in the least. I am ecstatic for every new mom that welcomes a baby into the world without drama or fear. (Other than the "what did I just get myself into" fear of course!) Many of my closest friends are pregnant right now. I pray every night that they have a fabulous pregnancies and healthy newborns. And I will be truly happy for each and every one of them when things go perfectly for them. But I have this terrible sorrow that when I see these pictures I just want to lay down and cry. It sucks out all of my energy and strength and deflates me like a week old birthday balloon after being drug around by a toddler. Great mental pic, huh? It reminds me of what I didn't experience with Hannah. More importantly, what I wasn't able to give her. Instead of me comforting her during her transition into her new world, she was sedated and laying under a heat lamp. Instead of skin to skin time while she learned to nurse, I hooked up to a pump eight times a day. I realize now how much I miss the "normal" newborn experience with her. I am so thankful that we have her here now. My brain won't let me even imagine how much worse this could be. I just struggle to chase out this feeling of misfortune. And I think fondly back at Emily's newborn days and how wonderful it was. I wish I could explain the inner turmoil. Moreover, I am surprised with these feelings. After feeling so much better for so long, I thought that this skeleton had been laid to rest. Apparently he was creeping in the shadows waiting for this moment.

I am so thankful for this blog. It has helped me heal in a way that was so unexpected. I started this blog because I needed to vent off all of this emotional upheaval before the top of my head blew off. And since my head is still intact, I'd say it has been a success. I am thankful for everyone that reads it. I hope that I am able to help someone by sharing my experiences with life, love and everything in between. In the next few weeks, I think I might start blogging about a wider range of topics, if that is okay with all of you. I would love to share more of what the board girls are up to and our adventures, instead of just stories of our past and recent crisis. Of course, I will still use my blog to prevent unintended head eruptions. And toddler tantrums in grocery stores. Okay, that last one was just wishful thinking! I love you.