Positivity and Worry

I wanted to write something about positivity and how people's perceptions of being positive effects a baby loss parent.

My friend Aoife lives across the world from me and every so often i go to write a post and I'll read hers first. She tends to find the words that I can not. I am going to share what she posted today as a reflection of something that I have been experiencing as well.

Figuring this all out isn't easy. It is a loss that complicates everything and so far it seems to be getting more complex and confusing as time goes on.
Listening to other people's ideals that they feed themselves to get through this complicated life isn't easy either.

I found "The Secret" before Oprah got her hands on it.
I loved it, I lived it, i tried it, told all my friends about it. It simply does not work.
"The Secret" for the people who made "The Secret" is that they made a lot of money off of selling a great idea that is just not reality. It makes you feel good, gives you lots of hope and has a lot of good principles!
In response to this blog that Aoife wrote, another blm (SG) said "being positive isn't an insurance plan."
So very true.
Slapping a smile on your face and reassuring everyone around you that you are Zen and Fine... does not mean that horrible things will not happen to you. That is called hiding your head in the sand.
It is just not reality.
And worrying doesn't mean that you think it's going to happen to you. It's you acknowledging that it might which may help you take a more pro-active route.

Another one of my favorite bloggers (MB) wrote, "If I talk about her too much--which, frankly, I rarely do, it's just too hard for me--I feel like the wailing banshee parading her dead daughter's body through the streets. If I don't talk about her often, I feel like a neglectful mother. And like I'm putting myself out there as completely FINE! I'M FINE! Can't you tell I'M JUST FINE?!" 
This delicate balance while trying to stay as focused on health and positivity can be dizzying, disorienting and exhausting.

The eagerness that people get to tell me exactly what i need to do to or try to do to heal myself.... to have a living child...  to stop grieving.... people like to think that they have the answers.  But not necessarily the eagerness to listen to what i have lived through and know to be a truth because i have gone over everything with a fine toothed comb over and over again. Because after all, what do i know? I'm the one with a dead son and the deep driven desire to never experience a loss like that again.

Worry is a positive thing in my life. It is me pushes me to be brave and make the best out of a horribly devastating experience. It is me preparing myself for anything else and knowing even more then before about all of the possibilities. I have time to educate myself and get my body in the absolute strongest condition that it can be in. Worry keeps me focused and driven to work on things that within my control in this crazy life.

People say so many things. We are waiting to try again, but the truth is when i am pregnant again, I have EVERY right to be completely scared shitless and worry when something doesn't feel right. How could i not be scared?? It's reality! I am a human and i learn from what happens to me. and me worrying isn't the danger. Perceived negative thoughts are not the danger. Pre-eclampsia is. Random acts of God/Life is. Chance and luck is. Things completely out of my control are the real danger.
I am not saying that i will worry everyday for the rest of my life. I do believe that it will come and go  and i will let it.

Anyways...  Aoife says it way better then i do. Thank you for letting me share this Aoife! :

PMA - Positive Mental Attitude

Every so often, I come across someone who holds a particular set of beliefs that leads them through this messy thing called life, colouring their view of the world. Sometimes it’s faith, sometimes a religion, sometimes a mindset or an attitude, sometimes a God, horoscopes, tarot…

I see the appeal. It’d be nice to be guided through with a neat and tidy explanation for everything. In some ways I’m envious of those who hold such steadfast views. It must provide such comfort, such reassurance, such answers… and perhaps even a measure of control.

I came across one such person’s view a while back. She is convinced that, “Having a positive attitude will always see you right”. She described many close calls: a brush with cancer, a choking incident, a child’s leukaemia scare… she firmly believes that all of these potential disasters were averted because she stayed positive and believed that everything would be alright in the end.

I don’t. In fact I was internally seething as I listened to her spout this nonsense (whilst of course politely nodding and “Mmmm”-ing in all the right places – yep, still a people-pleaser at heart). Optimism does not cure cancer, or prevent babies from dying. Full stop. Nature sometimes gets it wrong. Mistakes are made and tragedies happen.

Her attitude is actually arrogant and targets the most vulnerable. It adds culpability to the victims of the tragedy, whilst simultaneously elevating herself to superhero status who saves the day with her magical mind.

You see, what I heard whilst she was explaining her core life beliefs was this: “If you had just had a positive attitude, Seamus would still be alive.”

I don’t want to feel responsible for my son’s death because I wasn’t positive enough. Or worse, I don’t want my Seamus to be deemed to have had a negative attitude – he was just a baby for God’s sake. I don’t want to be made to feel that one of us was not enough. That the key to his undoing was an attitude problem.

Perhaps I should give her a break. Everyone has their own coping strategies. And fortunately for her, luck has been on her side, and consequently, her life view has been reinforced by her experiences.

But it strikes me lately, especially as this pregnancy progresses, how wary everyone is of my mindset. I have felt that medical professionals have sugar-coated information to protect my state of mind, that family members have been concerned about my stress levels and that people want me to focus on a happy outcome.

I myself have tried to temper my moments of grief for Seamus, quickly trying to stem the flow of tears, fearing it will somehow have a negative impact on this little fella.

It has got me thinking about where I stand – am I an optimist, a realist, or a pessimist? Positive or negative? Do I believe my mindset can affect outcomes?

I think I’m all of those things – it depends on the day you catch me. I wish I could pin down my own beliefs. They seem to flit from one thing to the next, shape-shifting according to what best suits my purpose at the time. It’s all infuriatingly woolly. It makes me feel like a weak, wishy-washy individual too scared to reside anywhere except squarely on the fence…

But these eternal optimists are a little alien to me. Do they not worry? I see no harm in trying to keep my mood positive – but I need to be able to give myself a break when I don’t manage it. In fact, back in the summer, I saw a hypnotherapist who really did help to lift my spirits. But, I could never simply subscribe to a positive attitude being a cure-all. That would require me to repress my worry (so as not to appear negative) because if I voiced negative things, surely then, the protection afforded to those with positive attitudes would be lost? But then, wouldn’t internalising the worry end up giving me a tumour?

I don’t for a second believe that any kind of mindset or attitude would have saved Seamus. But what if I’m wrong? What if the key to a successful pregnancy is to just be positive? What if this little one’s life depends on it? How on earth does one blindly skip happily through a pregnancy after living through the worst possible outcome?

It would feel a little dishonest and disingenuous slapping a smile on and pretending everything is A-Ok. I’d like to simply be realistic. I think I will continue to have days where the worry runs away with me and I convince myself that we will have to go through the pain of losing another child. Likewise, I’ll surprise myself with those days where I can take a deep breath, smile, and indulge in the fantastic possibility that, at the end of all this, maybe, just maybe, (please God, pleeeaaasssse) we may actually take home… a living, healthy, baby?

-Aoife, from Now I Lay me down to sleep...

One year ago today i pee'd on plastic stick and saw two pink lines.
My heart jumped out of my chest, absolute shock.
Then absolute joy.
I laughed nervously as i handed the stick for Jeff to see. He went silent for like an hour, so shocked that he couldn't find his words. lol
Truman was coming and a year ago today was his big announcement to us that he was on his way.
This day a year ago changed our life forever.

I still remember the beaming joy radiating out of Jeff's face as he told his best friend Owens that he was going to be a Daddy. They drank Mother Ship beer to celebrate, while i drank the fruit and veggie juice that Jeff at prepared for us.

We went to the doctor the next day for a confirmation. It was all true.
Afterwards we went to a Victorian town near us and bought a blue corduroy elephant at little boutique for our son. (good guess on the gender on our part at that time)
I told the elderly lady at the cash register that we just found out about our baby and this was it's first present... something to remember the day that we found out that we are parents.
We happily walked down the street holding hands.
The shock was fresh. The joy was fresh. and as happy as we were, we were scared shitless (rightfully so in retrospect).

The blue elephant came to the hospital in SF with the bag that Jeff had packed for me.
We were all still so hopeful for the best.
Even this stuffed animal was waiting for Truman to come home. For Truman to love him and wear him out.

Now it sits alone, head tilted, on the bookshelf.

The only thing that comforts me today is looking back at the pictures of myself during this time. There is a fullness- a wholeness- a calmness- a completion- that you can see in my eyes. I was finally whole.... and it only lasted those months that he was with us and okay.
I finally had the family that i always yearned for. My life was just about to start and i knew it. I loved deeper and more then ever before and it felt amazing.
Such a potent and happy time for us and our little family.

I love you, Truman.

Inspirational Garbage

Fellow BLM, Nikki, inspired me to write this blog.
she said it perfectly when she said, 
"People who say whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger probably have not held their son as he died. "


Yes. Yes. Yes.
Inspirational garbage. It's those quotes, sayings, beliefs and thoughts that may comfort the general public, but not us child loss parents.


Not everything happens for a reason. 
No one knows why anything happens to certain people and not to other's.


There are SO many quotes out there, especially on Pinterest. When i read them, i cringe.


I have been going to yoga lately, about 3 times a week. I go to an Anusara class and for those of you who don't know, it's more of a philosophical, mind and body yoga class. In other words, you aren't just going through the physical poses, you are linking them with thought and intention. 


I have seen two side os yoga.... the side where Ego is enlarged (unintentionally) and you think you are some how enlightened more so then others while still obsessed with how hot you look doing yoga OR it genuinely helps you feel stronger and work through some issues that you may be experiencing. My teacher is talented. Do i think that she is wiser then i am? Or has more knowledge on life because of her teachings? absolutely not. Can I learn from almost everyone in my life? absolutely.

Before the class, I was sitting in the lobby focusing all of my energy on having a productive class. 

There were probably 10 of us there waiting. 

A woman came into the room, holding her son, looked directly at me, said "we are going to sit right here next to her," and sat down right next to me and started breast feeding her about 9 month old boy.

I didn't even look at her, but i knew from the sounds that that is what she was doing.

3 months ago, this would have jarred me to the core.... I would have been sick with grief and sadness and felt that the cruel universe was once again rubbing my face in what i no longer have. I might have even said something to her like, "my little boy just died, can you please give me some space."

But i didn't. 

I didn't react.

I acknowledged in my mind what was happening and I just got up and walked into the yoga studio and then it was out of my mind until now.

The weird thing is, she wasn't even in our class, so who knows why she was there, breast feeding her child.... a universal test, that i passed. My grief is not as harsh as it was and there was strength present.

I started class with a clear mind. Ready to focus on my health and wellbeing.


The class was based on "Your story". My teacher had gone to a weekend workshop on this and was excited to share what she had learned.
Your story is held in your pelvic girdle (Hips and Sacrum).
I instantly thought of Truman, happy as can be in my Pelvic girdle. and then my mind went to my Sacrum injury. My sacrum injury throws off my balance from time to time. Here i am with a broken heart, a broken sacrum and a huge story to tell.


i do think that there are wonderful lessons in yoga. They have helped me a lot. But this lesson was not working for me and i found it to be inspirational garbage.


I got her point. "We are bigger and have more potential then what happens to us." 
"You are not your story."


Really?


Everyone knows that influences affect us and who we are as individuals. Society, your parents, your friends, movies, tv, the yoga class, etc..... we are creatures that are affected greatly by our surroundings and how we deal with what happens to us.


You could see me struggling through the class much more then everyone else. My balance was off, i was not as focused. My Story was too big "to release to the universe."
It's because everything that she said I felt like she didn't know the full lesson to teach in the first place.
There was no room for a baby loss mom in that class. 


Having Truman and losing Truman is so deeply ingrained into everything that i am and everything that i do, including yoga. and i am proud of that. He makes me push myself to be stronger and to be better.
Pre-eclampsia, is a disease, that is within me. It may strike again. It may not. It easily could have killed me. But it didn't. It may in the future. That is something that yoga can not think away. It is real, it is there and it is bigger then me. It killed my son. I will do everything with in my power to keep it away but it definitely does effect my potential as a human being. I may not be able to mother biological living children because of it.


But i do not think that at this moment, in the here and now, that i am more then what has happened to me. My story is not holding me back but my story is all that I have, It's all any of us have. When we die, our story ends and we have no idea what happens after that.
To ask me to let go of my story while continuing to bring up my story ...... it's just not going to work to bring me to a meditative and healing and centered place.
When she would say "Let go of your story. let go of what has happened to you."
I hear "let go of Truman" let go of all that that includes.
and that will never be possible and i wouldn't want it to be.
Om.

6 months

Today is 6 months from the day i gave birth to Truman.
6 months old.
I picture him in my mind, what he would look like. What we would be doing, what he would be doing.
6 month olds are so fun.
I haven't really been able to grieve properly lately.... i've been too busy. I can feel it building up now. My heart is really hurting.

I went to San Francisco for the first time since i left the day after Truman died.
Right after Truman died i felt like everything was fake... like all of San Fran was a movie set. and everything seemed haunted. Which i am sure was probably some sort of weird physiological coping thing due to the crazy amounts of trauma and stress. When i think back to that day, those days, i can not believe that i survived it.
That alone could make me break down into tears.
But being in that city again was good for me. I definitely feel him in the air there. I spend a lot of time outside and i never feel like he is around me up here on the north coast. But my trip to San Fran left me feeling like i visited with him and I liked it.

In the past 6 months so much has changed. and we have made our way through so much of the grief.
after all, we are human, we can not survive this life if we continued to feel the pain and anguish as those first few days/weeks/months after he died for the rest of our lives.
It's normal to move on but i can totally see how and why parents who lose their children can not.
Even with my moving on with my life, he is a part of it all and will continue to be. But the grief keeps him close. and there have been many times when i have felt the grief lightening and have fought it, fought to keep it, or felt guilty for smiling. Even grieving the loss of my heavy and intense grief is lifting.
Even with that, I long for him every second of every day. I never wanted him to be a cherished memory. I always wanted him to be my son.

I was just thinking about if Jeff and I have any other living children in the future.... how much their lives will be influenced by Truman being their older brother.
It's amazing.

I saw two little girls running down the side walk today and i thought: where are their parents? Don't they know that anything could happen? those girls are someone's daughters.... how brave or absent minded are their parents to just let them free, to do whatever and take their chances.

......

I laid here tonight and spent some time with Truman. Grieving him. Remembering every little thing about him that i can. I am still so proud of him. He tried so hard. He got robbed of so many things (and so did we) the moment that he died.

These are some pictures that i never shared. His eyes are swollen very badly but i love his little nose in this picture and how you can see so clearly that he has Jeff's upper lip and my chin.

Right after he came out... a few hours old.

I am finding that with time that my words are getting lost. That is why i haven't been blogging as much anymore. I just don't know what to say about all of this. It almost becomes more complex as time goes on and i just don't have the vocabulary for it.
and as time passes it's harder for those outside of the baby loss community to understand.

I want to continue to talk about Truman and be openly proud of him but at some point you start to wonder how you are being perceived by others--- and it shuts you up.

When listening to people talk, I have thought in my head so many times "if only you really knew. you have no idea because your child isn't dead." It seems to happen at least once a week. These are the thoughts that only the baby loss community will understand.

I am a mother, to a boy named Truman Montgomery Clerc. He is the bravest person who i ever met.
I hope that he is at peace. I hope with every inch of me that i can see him again.
If he were here today i would be snuggling him in bed, singing to him, listening to him giggle and kissing his sweet little cheeks.
Maybe in my dreams tonight......
<3