Back to Work Anxiety

On Monday, I go back to work after a 6-week FMLA leave from my c-section with Olive.  I am a nervous wreck.  Over the last few weeks, I have discovered how truly wonderful the people I work with are.  This by no means lessens the anxiety I have about going back to work.  I just have so much that I am stressed about.  I have one more full day at home and then it is back to the grindstone.  I want to cry.  I just don’t know how I am going to handle this.

I am a teacher, so my first anxiety is the students.  How do I talk to them?  They all knew I was pregnant, so there is no hiding the situation.  Luckily the school social worker came in and talked to them.  She also had them write letters to me.  Both of these things are going to make things easier, but it does not lessen my nerves.  What do I say when they ask questions?  I know they will because they are 11 and interested.  Do I answer them honestly?  If I do does that overstep the boundaries of teacher/student?  I don’t want my students to think I am not honest, but if parents don’t want me to discuss death I don’t want to go over them.

How do I fake it all day?  Right now if I cry, it doesn’t matter.  I have no one to answer to but me.  If I cry at work I have to face other people.  Yes the people I work with are great, but I don’t want them to see me cry.  Crying is private to me and I really only like to cry with people who know me.  Also, I am still angry.  I don’t want to take my anger out on my students and friends.  None of them did anything to me.  How do I smile and laugh and joke to make it all okay for everyone else?  Do I have to?

My last anxiety is answering questions.  I want people to ask about Olive and me.  I want people to acknowledge that my daughter existed.  She is important to me; she was a big part of my life for 21 weeks and will never go away.  I guess my fear is that people will ask inappropriate questions.  Or that if they do ask questions that I will break down.  Also, if they ask questions, do they want real answers or just a big fat lie?  Like the question, how are you doing?  I mean physically I am great.  I healed perfectly.  Also, at the 6-week mark, my body went back to normal.  My cycle is back, so I know that I can try again if I want to.  Emotionally, I am a wreck.  I miss my daughter and I am sad.  Do people want to know that or do they want to hear that I am okay?  How do I answer them?

With all the stress I have, there is part of me that never wants to go back to work.  This was part of my old life.  The life where babies don’t die and that I would have Olive.  The life where I had the perfect family and job.  Now it is different.  I am a different person.  Will I still do my job the way I did before?  Maybe I will be better, more compassionate.  Maybe I will be worse, too sad.  Also with my sub-par review, who knows if I will even have a job at the end of the year.  What I do know is it is only a job and my family is the most important thing.  Whether the job stays or goes, I will figure it out and it all part of the path that I am meant to take.

With all of this coming up, we’ll see how I do.  Should make for some interesting reading.

The Stages of Grief

It is an amazing road grief.  Taking a person through ups and downs, lefts and rights, and the occasional spin out.  It is like being on a roller coaster that you didn't want to go on and then to make it worse someone has super glued your butt to the seat, so you can't even get off.

There are supposedly 5 stages of grief.  I say supposedly because I have been through some new ones.

• Denial
• Anger
• Bargaining
• Depression
• Acceptance

According to psychologists, every person goes through each of these stages differently and of course stages can last a long time, repeat and go out of order.  Also, because grief is an individual process, the rest of the world not associated with your grief usually expects one to move on and "get over it" as quickly as possible.

The world was not always like this.  At one time, people were required to wear black for a full year so people knew they were in mourning and would be sensitive.  Wakes used to be held in the home and were for days not just hours.  Mothers who lost babies would make jewelry from hair or decorations from ashes so their babies could be with them always.  Now because we are so medically advanced, death occurs in hospitals and is not seen.  People are expected to get over it and move on.  Too bad the human heart doesn't work like that.

Back to the stages of grief...

1. Denial:  I personally was in denial before my baby died.  I really feel that I had some 6th sense about Olive.  I was an emotional wreck the entire pregnancy, thinking the baby was going to die.  Now my doctors will give you a million medical and personal reason why I felt this way, but I think deep down I knew this wouldn't work out.  My denial was on the day I found out she died.  Before I found out, I actually believed that everything was going to be okay, right up until the ultrasound.  I denied what my heart and emotions had been telling me for 5 months.  So I easily moved onto the next stage of grief.
2. Anger:  I am good at the anger stage.  I was and am pissed for so many reasons.  I was angry with the doctor for telling me.  I was angry I had to wait to get the official ultrasound.  I was angry at my body for failing me.  I was angry that my husband wasn't with me and I had to go to L and D alone.  I was angry at my mom that she was wrong and everything was not okay.  I was angry that I was diabetic and maybe that is why Olive died.  I was angry that I didn't deliver her naturally and opted for a c-section.  When I found out she had the cord wrapped around her neck, I was mad at her for not staying still.  I was mad that I had been stressed.  I was even made at God, not because he took her, but because he didn't save her.  The list of my anger goes on and on and on.  No one would want to continue reading this if I went on forever though.
3. Bargaining:  I don't feel that I bargained over Olive's death.  Before I knew she was dead and during my pregnancy I bargained with God.  I will go to church for a healthy baby.  I will pray more for a healthy baby.  At one point, I was stressed over a sub-par performance review that I begged God not to take my baby if he was going to take my job.  Recently I have done some bargaining.  I told God that I would relax more and enjoy life more if I could have another baby.  Now I don't think I did bargaining right after I found out, but my husband thinks I did.  He thinks it is bargaining when I asked for my baby back for Christmas and saying that all I wanted for Christmas was a baby.  Maybe he is right.
4. Depression:  I live in the stage of depression both before and after Olive.  I was diagnosed with depression at the age of 23 and have been in therapy and on medication for a LONG time.  Medication has kept me sane and even, so I am grateful for it.  I don't know if my depression will get worse with this tragedy, only time will tell.  I think because I have been this way for so long I don't know if what I feel is because of Olive or just the chemicals in the brain.  I have sobbed, wailed, whimpered, shook, begged, etc throughout this last month, so I know I am depressed.
5. Acceptance:  I don't know this stage.  They tell me this the stage where you are okay with the circumstances.  You are not over it, you are still sad, but you are coping and it is not on your mind 24/7.  Maybe I will get there, maybe I won't.  Don't care right now, just walking through the motions.

I have gone through some non-official stages of grief.  Maybe every mother to an angel goes through them or maybe they are all just me.

• Failure: I failed to protect my baby, give my son a sibling, and my husband another child.
• Overprotectiveness:  Everything my son does, I double, triple think it.  He needs a tonsillectomy but I don't want anything to happen.
• Fear: What else is going to happen to me?  Will I die?  Will my child or husband die?  If I have another baby will my body fail me again?
• Searching:  Trying to find acceptable answers to these numerous questions, which I know there are none.
• Relief:  I didn't fail my baby.  It truly was an accident that I could not have prevented.

I know I will continue to go through the formal and non-formal stages of grief for a long time.  I know I am still angry and I know that I am still in depression, so there is no way that I am "over it" even though I have good days and laugh.

What have I learned from grief?  I have learned both good and bad things.

The good things...

• I have learned who my true friends are.  The ones who have stuck by me, talked to me, loved me, cried with me and make each day worth it.
• I have learned how strong I am.  Months ago I would have thought that I would be a falling down wreck if this happened, but I am still standing.
• I have learned how much I am loved by my family.  I have a husband who is strong for me, even in his own grief.  My parents hurt, but not just because they are going through it, but because I am going through it.
• I have learned to appreciate every moment I have.  Time spent watching and playing with my son is absolute pleasure, even when I am tired, frustrated or he is bratty.  I will never think it is a burden again.  Once quiet in the house was the only time it was peaceful, but noise from friends and family can be just as peaceful.
• I have learned that my husband is a truly caring man.  At first, I thought he didn't care about Olive's death and maybe even my pain, but he shows his grief differently.  His grief is shown when he holds me, listens to me, allows me to grieve, and when he is being strong.  He gets out his grief by caring for me.
• I have learned that nothing is more important than family.  At one point during this pregnancy I was extremely stressed about keeping my job and getting tenure.  Whether or not I keep my job this year and get tenure is no longer important.  Knowing that my son is happy and healthy matters.  Spending time with my husband is important.  Laughing with my parents is wonderful.  A job doesn't give me these things and I can get a paycheck anywhere.  Don't get me wrong, I like where I work and want to stay, but in the end having the family I have is what is most important and everything else just comes second.
• I have learned that people do care about me.  I always knew my family did, but I learned that the people I work with care and support me too.  It is a great feeling 

The bad things...

• I have learned that telling my son that his sister died and will never come home is the hardest thing I have EVER had to say.
• I have learned that people avoid mourners.  This is not a disease you can catch.  Your baby won't die because you talk to me.  I know that death is a subject no one wants to discuss, but avoiding someone who has lost a child leaves them alone.  Would you want to be alone if a tragedy happened to you?  Think about having all that grief and no one was there to talk to you or support you.  Scary, huh?
• Worst thing I have learned is that some people are selfish, insensitive fools.  Don't say to a mother of a stillborn the following:  At least you can have another baby, at least you didn't get to know the baby or bond with the baby, don't you have another child at home.  None of these things help and are heartless.   Also, if a mother of a stillborn wants to cry and talk about her child, don't say to them "you can't play that card forever".  It is not a card to be played and even if it was that mother has every right to play it.  THEIR BABY DIED.  Along those same lines, don't compare your hardships, even death, to the death of a child.  Unless you have lost a child you have no idea what that mother is feeling.  The car accident your kid had and lived through, the death of a pet, even the death of a parent does not compare.  Don't get me wrong the death of a loved one is immeasurable, but the death of a child is unnatural.

Now that I have gone on and on, it is time to close this.  I have learned so much on this road and I know I will learn more.  One of the most insightful things I have learned is that talking about this on this blog has made the pain more tolerable.  I am sure the blogs will become less, but for now it my guide through this maze of grief.  Hope you all continue to read about my journey and be part of my joys and pains.

The Story of Olive

   When my son turned 2, my husband and I thought it would be a great time to start trying for our second baby.  We, of course, thought this would be easy.  It took us 6 weeks to conceive our son. 
   After 2 years of no success we went for fertility treatments.  The first round worked but unfortunately it was not meant to be, ectopic pregnancy.  We continued to try with no success.  Finally, on August 7, 2011 we got the best news ever.  We were pregnant!!
   I was so happy that this time the baby implanted correctly and all the struggles were finally over.  Of course like any new pregnant lady, I was nervous during the first 12 weeks.  Finally, we got to tell everyone.  I was excited and nervous all at once.
  The pregnancy went forward without any complications.  I am diabetic but my sugars were under control, I was losing some weight, and I felt good.  For some reason, I was an emotional wreck.  I would cry at the drop of a hat, I was paranoid about everything.  I was stressed out over everything and so worried I would lose my baby.  Even with all of the support of my husband, mother and friends I couldn't shake it.  I would cry almost every morning that I might lose the baby.  I would pray for it not to happen.  It was a constant on my mind.  It was like my mind knew something was wrong.
   During my 20 week ultrasound the tech tried to find out the sex of the baby but could only give us a maybe it's a girl.  I was excited for that but thought there is no way I will ever be the mother of a girl.  The doctor talked to us and I told him how stressed, emotional and paranoid I was.  He wanted me to see my therapist and talk about more meds.  I went to see her and decided that an increase of meds was needed.
  At 22 weeks, December 7, 2011 my hell began...  I had a good day and was excited to hear the baby.  My meds were starting to work so I wasn't as stressed.  As I was going to the doctor, I talked to my mom and hubby who both said everything would be fine.  I got in and told the doctor I was still nervous so he said let's go look at the baby and ease your mind.  What a joke!  We poked and tried to get the baby to move but she wouldn't.  At first the doctor just thought she was sleeping.  After what seemed like a lifetime the doctor stepped out and I knew.  He came back and said that it did not look good.  He never said she was dead but I knew.
  At this point he sent me to L and D in the hospital.  They offered me a wheelchair but I wanted to walk there to call my family and get some air.  I was in shock and crying.  My baby was dead!  This doesn't happen. 
   I called my husband.  He said WHAT!?!  It was surreal.  He had our son so he needed to find a sitter so he could come to me.  Then I called my mother who said the same thing but then she started crying.  At this point I walked to L and D, got checked in and waited.  I called people who needed to know, like work, church and then called my mom again.
  Finally, my husband arrived.  We waited for the US tech to do the official "your baby is dead" US.  She finally came and did it.  They couldn't find anything wrong, but my baby was dead.  The doctor gave me the option of natural childbirth or c-section because that is what I had before.  I went with the c-section because I wanted this to be done quickly and I was afraid with my previous c-section and surgery I might rupture.  They would do that in the morning. 
   December 8, they did my c-section.  In the OR, I was pretty out of it but I still remember someone saying OH MY.  I knew then that it had been a cord accident.  When they were done I went to recovery where my hubby joined me.  They told me I had a girl and what had happened.  She had the cord wrapped around her neck 3 times and her arm 3 times.  All I could do was cry.
   Over the next couple of days, the chaplain came and blessed my baby girl.  Also I planned her funeral and did all I could to stay sane.  I was too scared to see her or hold her.  Finally, I decided to hold her.  I kissed her and told her I loved her and would miss her.  My husband, mother and MIL held her too.  It was the closure I needed to truly start the grieving process.  I didn't see her because I was too nervous, but just holding her wrapped body made me truly her mother.
  My daughter's name is Olive and she existed.  We had her funeral on December 15.  It was the only thing I could give her and it was beautiful.  There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about her and wish she was still in my belly.  I don't know how I made it through the holidays and I don't know how I will make it through what should have been her due date, but I will.  I have a little boy to be strong for and a family to take care of.  No person should every have to lose a child at any age.  Once a woman hears she is pregnant, she becomes a mother.  Losing that baby is hell.
   So now I start the new me and we will see what happens.  I still want another baby, but who knows how we will get there.