the wounded healer

Sigh. Therapy.

So hard to be on the other side.. I am used to being the caregiver, not the receiver. The nurse asked me to allow them to nurture me.. not only the staff, but the other clients in the program. It's just so hard, because I'm in this new place where the clients are my peers instead of the medical staff. I'm comfortable with the medical staff because that's the end of the table I'm usually on. But I'm already starting to help others in this treatment program too (telling me they thought of me over the weekend as they spent time with their kids) and someday soon I'll be back at work with those sick babies. Someone today referred to me as "the wounded healer." I love that.

I have admitted repeatedly that I'm being a little stubborn. I'm very protective of Kathlyn and her memory and I just don't know about this generalized group treatment program for the depressed. I don't have a chemical imbalance that makes me depressed... I've been through a traumatic event that triggered it.. and it was made worse by the fact that I was already a sensitive person who easily cries anyway and chronic worrier by nature. I've worked in the mental health field before and I'm a nurse... I can tell you the coping skills. It's going to take more than just coping skils. Don't just tell me to go for a walk and get more exercise and it's going to be ok. Don't just tell me to light a pink candle or write privately or on a blog or write to my daughter or curse off God because I already do those things. You've read about it, it's all right here. I find ways... I went to the cemetary and felt the breeze on my face and placed pink roses on children's graves... I did a reading at a candle lighting.. I spend time with friends and go to church and went back to work. At the end of the day, I'm comforted by those things. But at the end of the same day, she's still dead. So while things seem to be coming together because I'm getting the help I need and my body is starting to recover and ovulate and do what it's supposed to do, I'm resistant to ever thinking (or anyone else thinking) that this is ok. This will NEVER be ok. Even John seems to be "ok now." Or, it must be ok now that I'm getting therapy and ok now that my mom's here. No... this will never be ok. She will always be missing. Maybe I will feel joy again when I have more children or maybe the therapy will help me start to feel better and maybe I'll be able to cope and get through subsequent pregnancies.. but this will never, ever, be ok. And for whatever reason, I want to make sure people are acknowledging that. It seems silly.. how could this ever "be ok." ?? How could I ever be expected not to be sad about this? Our daughter died, but we're ok now...?! How could that be?? Or in a few years, our daughter died, but we have 4 more children, so it's ok now. No... that... doesnt make any sense. Right? Sure, someday I can feel happy again, but I will always feel sad for her too. Right now, it's just sad... the "happy" feels far away.

With this stubborn-ness the counselors have admitted that I'm not the typical patient. In nursing school when I suffered horrible anxiety, there was a definite end. I graduated. I got the dream job. It's over and done with,and it was all worth it. But this grief, this missing child, there is no end on this side of earth. There's only one way for the grief to end, and fleeting as those thoughts might be, they scare me and they are taken very seriously when admitted on record. So what do we do? I feel so defeated.. this grief is bigger than me, bigger than this program, bigger than a second pregnancy. Tell me the coping skills, remind me of them, and I will try. I'm doing the best I can. But when it comes to setting a "goal", what I'm hoping to get out of this program, we were a bit stumped. "What do I want out of life?" My baby. Well that's impossible. "What do I want out of life since I can't have her?" To feel better. Well.. that's possible, I guess, but I go back to my last paragraph... how is this EVER going to be ok??

I dont deny that I'm severely depressed and I can't go on the way I've been. I can't sleep all the time. I can't continue with the panic attacks and losing my mind. The kidney stone, the excruciating pain, 3 weeks in a row in the ER, the original news that I didn't ovulate, on top of the dead child was too much to bear. Wouldn't it be for anyone? Most people admit they dont even want to THINK about losing a child, and yet I'm living it every day.

And so I'm trying. I hate mornings, and yet I'm getting up at 7am to drive for nearly an hour with the peak of rush hour traffic to give this program a shot. I'll try to get one thing out of it every day. I'll hope that this extra time off I'm being granted by my supportive managers doesn't affect time off later this year that I'll hopefully need for my second maternity leave. I'll rest on the fact that if it doesn't help me, it might just help others through my experience. I would trade it all in a skinny minute for Kathlyn back, so please, do yourself a favor and DO NOT try to say that "this is the reason she died", so that I could help other people. F-that. Would you want YOUR child to die so you could help others? Didn't think so. So don't tread those waters, our relationship will drown there if you try to imply that. A reason doesn't have to be assigned to everything that happens. But beauty can rise from ashes. And so, begrudgingly, I'll take my new position as the wounded healer. I don't have to like it, I'd much rather have a different mission and testimony, but it's what we've got for now.