11 days later
and it’s felt like an eternity but gone by in the blink of an eye.
So let me tell you about the last 11 days. John took the week off work (went back yesterday). As soon as we found out what happened he told his boss he wasn’t coming in for the week. He took on the kids needs for the week and tried to make sure I had those days and times to heal physically. I know he
was is hurting but he put it all aside for me so I could stay in bed a little later in the mornings and to take it as easy as I could. I haven’t gotten groceries in over 2 weeks. He made sure kids were bathed. Laundry was done. Meals were on the table. He ran the errands. He put on a happy face for the kids and made sure they had some fun experiences on their last week of Christmas vacation. You see, I wouldn’t be where I am today in my physical healing if it wasn’t for him. This man deserves so much. It’s not easy for him either. I think a lot of people forget about the Dad when things like this happen. He gets so connected and into the pregnancy as soon as he finds out. He’s there for everything with his big cheeky grin and instantly sees our future and calms my nerves about not having a big enough house yet or possibly needing a different van. He’d tell me “it’ll work out”, “we’ll get it figured out”, “don’t worry” and I believe him. We always have and he’s just that voice of reason in my panic. You see, we have always balanced each other and he feels this loss just as deeply. Maybe differently, but just as deeply.
Then we mustn’t forget the shit show that has been pummeling us since we found out we lost BabyA 2018. The Universe hasn’t been exactly kind to us. It’s been one thing after the other and man, that has not helped the facing and coping situation.
2. We woke up 2 days later, New Years Day, to our furnace not working. John reset it and it turned on fine and heated the house but after 10 minutes or so there was a burning smell so we shut it off and made a call. So yea us, expensive call out to see WTF was the problem.
3. A couple nights later we noticed a pool around the furnace. When the guy was checking the furnace over and removed the filter he had to move the hose. He must have pulled it off so all the condensation didn’t drain like it was supposed to and collected on our furnace room floor. Fun times. John was luckily able to fix it.
4. The next morning Noah’s feeding pump gives us the error of death. On a Saturday. *whomp whomp* Syringe feeding with 3 other kids is always fun at meal times. Luckily, we called Paeds since the regular 4N we have to deal with is only weekdays they called the one who runs it at home to find the replacement pump so we could exchange our broken POS and had one for supper time.
5. Then within 36 hours of the furnace puddle, I step out of the shower and hear “drip drip drip” and there’s a puddle on my bathroom floor. Look up. Saturated spots in the ceiling. Mother f—-r. Turns out the bathroom exhaust fan tubing had disconnected so my attic filled with hot, humid air for gosh knows how long. Our crawl space is super small but my clastrophobic husband went up there and fixed that problem. But as it turns out, our roof was replaced this summer and a faulty plumbing stack was installed and also to blame. Of course. We are waiting on the roofing company to fix that part. UGH. Then we will deal with the bathroom ceiling.
6. Lastly (?) 2 nights ago we were alerted by the dog barking at 1:30am that 2 guys were breaking into our shit. I don’t think they were expecting John to come out of the house in a fit of yelling rage. But, scared them off and called the cops and never heard about it again.
But seriously, we had high expectations for 2018. Not so much yet. January can take a huge flying leap off a tall building.
We need a restart.
I still don’t think what has happened has fully sunk in. Well I know what happened so I guess what I mean is the mind-crushing grief still hasn’t hit me full force. Don’t get me wrong, I have had tears and lots of crying. Lots of questioning. Lots of worrying. Lots of wondering. I’ve read everything I can read online. I’ve responded to the messages that have been sent to me. So you can see I’m not fully avoiding it but life is happening. It’s not letting me sit and wallow like I probably need. I still can’t open my mouth and say words about our baby or what is happening or talk about the future. I physically can’t talk because the tears are right there spilling out taking my breath away. But, that’ll come in time. I think. I hope.
I’m constantly left to wonder what is “normal” and what is going to happen next. Every little thing I question, is this supposed to happen? When will this stop? When will this start? When will pregnancy tests stop being positive? Will I have complications? When will this physical torture end? What will they tell me in 6 weeks? Where do we go from here? Why, why, why, why, WHY? Questions never stop. When they do worry takes over. It’s a special kind of personal Hell that is all too familiar for many of my friends and family.
I can’t take the time to do nothing and let it all sink in as quick as I probably should. My kids need me. Someone always needs something and now that we are back in the “back to school” rush there is a strict routine and my days are pretty much laid out for me. Then evening comes and I just veg and lay with John, probably in more silence than in the past, and do nothing. We watch Roseanne or whatever else is on the DVR or I play Super Mario Run while John plays the WiiU. I can’t tell you how many levels I’ve completed and moved on to in the last 11 days. I was so far behind John and Eli that E liked to laugh at me but let me tell you, needing mindless games this past week is exactly what I needed and now I’ve pulled ahead of the guys. Stress can make you do some crazy things.
So yea, so much has happened in these first 9 days of 2018 but we are still here fighting back and facing the challenges head on as much as it all has sucked. We are veterans of shit luck.
But, Universe you can take a break from us at any time. It would be much appreciated.