Panic at the WIC office...

July 2.  The beginning of the worst nightmare ever.  I was sitting in my chair thinking I'd lost bladder control only to be faced with the reality that my water might have broken.  It's now one month later.  I guess I'm thinking more on it because of yesterday.  Yesterday was NOT a good day for me at all.  You see my grandmother had surgery for breast cancer.  Her surgery went well and she is doing well.  But that's not what made my day so horrible.

On July 1, I walked into a WIC office to get some help since my husband and I uprooted our lives.  I was supposed to have had an appointment yesterday.  Well considering I'd spent half July in the hospital and the other half recooperating I wasn't up to an appointment.  So on the way to the hospital to show some support my husband stopped by the WIC office so I could cancel my appointment.  Though I couldn't remember what time it was supposed to have been.  He stayed in the truck.  Next thing I know I'm being roped into a post-partum appointment.  I guess they give help to post-partum women even if you've lost the baby.  And to a degree that's great.  But I just wanted to cancel my appointment.  I filled out the form they gave me and waited.

It was horrible! I was sitting there looking at all these kids, the father holding his newborn baby, the pregnant women, the stupid posters, not to mention the pregnant women in the dvd they were playing.  The room was closing in on me.  The longer I waited, the worse it got.  My heart was starting to race and all I wanted to do was leave.  About the time I was about to leave they called me back.  Then it got really bad.  I was supposed to have brought in proof of income to this appointment.  But because I had been in the hospital and been through so much it was the furthest thing from my mind.  I remember needing it now, but I didn't think about it since I was just there to cancel my appointment.

They were trying to find a way to get me services for another month until I could bring this income proof in.  And the longer it took, the worse I felt.  Finally another lady sat down and I explained the timeframe.  July 1 I walked in here.  July 2 my water broke.  July 4 I was hospitalized.  July 5 I gave birth.  Then I was released that Thursday.  The next week was the funeral and that Sunday I was hospitalized again for an emergent appendectomy and released that Wednesday.  And my grandmother is now in surgery as we speak for breast cancer.  I was near tears.  My chin was quivering, I was starting to shake.  I told her all I wanted to do was cancel my appointment.  I just didn't want to not show up and I couldn't find the number to call in.  She told me to lets pretend the appointment never happened.  But she begged me to come back with proof of income because I guess they can help for 6 months after my loss.  She finally showed me to the door and asked me to please come back.

I just don't think I can go back.  Yes right now we are in a time where we need help.  We have been through more than any couple should.  We gave up our jobs and our home (it's being rented) to move in with my parents.  We gave up our privacy.  I can't start working just yet, though I'm getting there.  Just another week or so.  My husband had to quit the job he took when we got here because there was just too much stress and he was too worried about me.  So now it's all up to the contract work he has, and a job search I need to start up again.  The problem is, my energy fails me.  Some days I have the heart and some days I don't.  Like today.  I need to make a call to follow up about some testing I took for a job and I'm just drained.  Mentally drained.  You see that appointment took so much out of me my husband had to bring me back home to take an anxiety pill.  I had to calm down before going to the hospital to see my family.

What's worse is I'm having a hard time focusing on anyone else.  I'm so wrapped up in my own grief, I can't see anyone else's hardly.  I want to be there for my grandma but I'm even having a hard time with that.  So I went to the hospital to show some form of support even though my heart wasn't necessarily in it.  I'm being raw here.  Bluntly honest.  I want to be there, but I don't.  It's so complicated.  My family has shown us so much support I want to give something back, but I'm so drained I don't have much to give.  I'm so glad my grandma's surgery went well.  I just wish I had more to give.  But I'm so broken.

I was able to put aside how I felt after walking into WIC yesterday until I went to bed.  My husband knew something was wrong because I didn't want to talk.  I like to use right before we fall asleep as a time to chat and I didn't want to.  All I wanted to do was cry.  I was so heartbroken.  I just want my Ashley back.  I miss her so much it hurts.  I'd had so many good days lately I wasn't expecting the shock of a panic or anxiety attack.  The medicine helps and I know without it I would have been a much bigger mess after that experience.  I realized last night how much I miss her.  I've put myself in a shell trying to protect myself.  I've had such bad days before I agreed or allowed myself to take the anti-depressent and anxiety medicine.  Such horrible days.  Days where I would just stare at a wall.  Days I'd refuse to get dress or go anywhere.  You see I'm not perfect.  And maybe most wouldn't admit to being on medication but I need the help.  Because my raw pain is so disabling it was becoming dangerous.  I was loosing myself.

If I'm really going to be honest here, then I'll admit I'm afraid to leave the house.  I am.  I'm afraid of going into a store and being surrounded by pregnant women, kids, and babies.  And most of all I'm afraid of the anxiety and panic that happens.  And truth be told, I was never more painfully aware of how many there are until after I lost Ashley.  I can't stand being surrounded by crowds.  I learned that at a Walmart trip, though I didn't tell anyone.  My excuse typically winds up being that I'm tired and need to leave.  And really I do get tired but I'm not sure if it's from all the physical stuff I've been through or if some of it's the mental draining and exhaustion. 

More painfully, I am terrified.  I am absolutely terrifed of going through any of this again.  I want a baby so badly but I don't want to loose another one.  It hurts so much.  My brutally honest question to my husband last night was, "What if I can't have a baby? What if I keep loosing them?" It is my fear.  And it is a fear that grips any mother who has lost a baby.  I'm even more afraid of becomming pregnant again and being so scared that I can't enjoy the pregnancy.

I am sad and I am heartbroken.  I am so heartbroken I can hardly focus on anyone else's pain.  So if you know me and are reading this, please know that I want to be there for you but I'm so broken I don't know how.  I am weak.  And I am healing.

I am tired.  I sad.  I am devastated.  I am not always happy and I cannot always see the good though I am trying.  I am not always postive.  And sometimes I am angry.  While I look for the positive I still want to know WHY!? Why me?!?!?? Why is it that women who abuse their bodies with drugs and alcohol and ignore their children have healthy babies but I'm left to loose my daughter but I took care of myself and wanted her? Why do women who don't want their babies get to keep them? Because it's not fair.  And I ask those questions.  But I try and look for the positive.  But yesterday and today are days when I have a hard time doing that.

I am broken.