The Importance of Grieving and Closure

Edited 2/1/2014

     Looking back to three years ago I sometimes can not even recognize myself. As I stand back in time staring at my reflection I see a woman standing before me. Her brown eyes reddened from years of sadness she held locked inside her. That sadness chipped away at her soul little by little until she too was at the brink of death. I'm standing in front of a mirror, but who is this woman before me? Memories flood back to me as if the damn that was built inside of me to keep the hurt away came crashing down. Three years ago I was filled with anxiety. Debilitating anxiety that something would happen to my family-to my son. Would he stop breathing in his sleep? Would he fall at the babysitters on his head? What if he somehow got out of the school and ran out in the street? What if he is in the car with his grandmother and they get into an accident? Once these thoughts are in my head there is NO TURNING BACK. Eddie’s first day of school I sat in the parking lot the entire time. What If? What If? What If?

     Finally one morning I looked into the mirror and I realized the woman looking back at me was begging me for help. Her eyes were worn from the constant worrying. I began my journey with a few therapists who helped me come to terms with where all the anxiety and fear stemmed from. The death of my first son Dylan Thomas. Three years ago I wouldn't talk about my story the way I do now. People knew of my loss, and I had to give the information during past medical history questionnaires, but that was just facts. That was not MY story.

     I sat down one night and let my story exit the deepest corners of my mind and trickle out onto the keyboard. I felt a release that nothing else in the world has ever given me. It was as if the heavy blackness that was strangling my soul was released and I watched it disintegrate like ash from a flame that was put out. Here is my story.

     2003: I was an 18 year old high school senior pregnant with her first baby. It was not the ideal situation in the least. The pregnancy was not planned, I was frightened, and I had my doubts. I had dreams of going to college and becoming a nurse and publishing a book-becoming a pregnant teen was not on my mind. My support system was pretty much non existent except for a couple amazing teachers who pretty much saved my life. I really don’t even think they know how much they did. Ms. Coates and Mr. Masi were my angels that year. They never passed judgment and they supported me. For an 18 year old girl who felt the world was on her shoulders, I just could never thank you both enough.

      Against my will I made an appointment to go to the abortion clinic. The atmosphere was cold as I looked around the waiting room. My heart was beating so fast as I looked over to my boyfriend with just as much fear in his eyes. I filled out piles of paperwork and met with a woman who broke down the procedure nonchalantly as if I was at the dentist for an annual cleaning. No big deal. Panicked I got up, got dressed, and bolted from the facility. Although the situation was not ideal I chose to keep the baby, despite being pressured by many to have an abortion. We later found out I was carrying a little boy. I chose the name Dylan Thomas because of my obsession with the great Bob Dylan and the writer Dylan Thomas. I saw his heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor, felt his little feet kick me, and just prayed that God would take care of me and this innocent baby. I stayed in school, worked part time, clipped coupons, planned his Cat in the Hat nursery, and would day dream about all the things I would teach him. I loved him and I often wondered if he could feel my love.

     March 20, 2003 , 7 months pregnant I woke up to swollen legs and feeling very dizzy. My boyfriend’s mother dismissed me as being lazy and my boyfriend left me at home and went to work. I made a doctors appointment and called a dear friend of mine to take me. Within moments of checking in they had me lie down. Nurses and doctors were frantically making calls and running around the office. I was just at the doctors a few days ago for a check up and everything was fine. What was going on. I would later find out my blood pressure was 210 over 120 (normally 115/80). I was rushed across the street to the hospital where the rest the story was almost a blur.

     Before I knew it I was lying in a room with an IV of Magnesium sulfate dripping into my veins. The nurses told me they were not allowing my then estranged family into the room with me because they were afraid I would stroke out or have a seizure from any type of stimulation. I sat in the quiet room in a haze of drugs and worry. Next thing I know I was being prepped for a C-Section. All of a sudden I was laying in the cold operating room surrounded by what felt like a thousand people. There was no time for an epidural so I would need to be put under. I begged the nurses to please not put me under until I spoke with the doctor. Please Please Please! I begged as if I was begging for my life. The doctor came in and I knew I needed to ask soon. “Will the baby be ok?” “We are not sure,” she replied. “I know this is selfish-but will I be ok?” I will never forget one kind nurse with tears running down her face as she grabbed my hand and told me that was not a selfish question and she would make sure I was ok. Later I would find out I almost died. I was actually moments from stroking out. Even after the C-Section I was in ICU.

     When I awoke from the anesthesia there was my family, my boyfriend’s family and the doctors. I was told Dylan had Hydrops fetalis and they were doing all they can but we should bring in a priest. Before I knew it I was holding my lifeless son surrounded by people and a priest-but never felt more alone in the world.

     From that day on EVERYONE in my life acted as if it never even happened. As if Dylan had never existed. I was told “It is better this way. God was doing you a favor.” Most of my “friends” NEVER asked me how I was dealing, how I was feeling. Not one time. I remember my boyfriend going to a party at his house days later as I sat in the hospital. Were they celebrating? I remember my “friends” literally acting as if the whole thing was a relief. I was told to get over it. As if this was just a late term abortion to them. I started to feel guilty for feeling sadness. I suppressed my grief deep down into my soul. I was NOT allowed to feel sadness because I was a teen mom and because he was only a newborn. I was NOT allowed to cry. I was NOT allowed to feel pain. Eventually I was made to feel crazy when I had my nervous breakdown months later. I was told I was crazy by my friends and the people I cared about the most.

     Then just 4 weeks after my emergency C-Section I got a call from the school. I needed to start my school work or I would not graduate. NO sympathy. I was NOT allowed. A few days later I received a call from the gym teacher. I would need to play Tennis or fail gym. Pick a day and meet him. I JUST HAD A C-SECTION and LOST MY SON!!!! No one cared. I should not care…..I was not allowed to care.

     After graduating in June 2003 I self medicated.We will skip the graphic details of this time of my life for now. I was numb. I was dead. I wanted to die.

     By September 2003 I moved back home and got clean, and have been ever since. But even though we dealt with a few things-I never worked out Dylan’s death. I just repressed it and learned to deal. I learned to trust, to love, and to live. But I never grieved and I never had closure and so it all started coming back out when I gave birth to my son Edward. The fears of losing this little boy CONSUMED me. I felt like I had to do whatever it took to prevent the unknown.

2012 I finally met a therapist who made me write about Dylan. He made me talk about Dylan. He helped me release the darkness, and I will forever be grateful to him. I went back to school to follow my dreams of being a nurse and graduated valedictorian of my class. Here I am, pregnant in high school with many people assuming my life to be over and I am succeeding. It is amazing what you can accomplish when you release the darkness that strangles your light. I will be finally having a burial for my son this year, as I realized that is the last piece of releasing the sadness. Right now his ashes are at my parents house. He deserves a proper send off.    

My hopes with this blog entry is to 

1.) Finally tell my story as if it was my story 

and 

2.) Help reach out to others who have had a loss. It doesn't matter if you are 16 or 50. It doesn't matter if you were 5 weeks pregnant or 9 months pregnant. It doesn't matter if your child was 1 or 20. The loss of a baby, of a child is a loss. It is OK to grieve. It is OK to cry. It is OK to mourn. You are ALLOWED. I now volunteer my time at Grieve Out Loud, a pen pal community for those who have gone through infant and child loss.

I looked back at the woman in the mirror one last time and watched as the fear and sadness in her eyes turned to relief and calmness. A small smile begins to form at the corner of her mouth and she nods as if to thank me for giving her life back.

 This is a poem I wrote for my son that I will read and send off with him at the ceremony:

 I never got to see your eyes

Or feel your fingers wrap around mine

You were needed much more by the Lord above

Something I would learn in time

Did you hear my voice talk to you

At night when I couldn’t sleep

Did you know that when you left

My heart broke and I would weep

I often see the stars up above

Twinkling fast and free

And I hope and pray that you knew

How much you meant to me

We didn't have much time, you and I

Before the Lord called you to the home above

You were much too special for this earth

But please know that you were loved

               -CMZ 09/10/2012

A Letter to My Sweet Boy. 19 Things I Hope You Learn.

To my sweet little boy,

     In a couple of months you are going to be three and then shortly after that you will be starting preschool. Time is whizzing by and I am savoring each special moment you bring to my life. However I can not slow down time and you are on your way and growing up before my eyes. Here is what I hope you learn, my love.

1.) To be PROUD to be a citizen of the United States. My heart aches for the children whose lives are severely affected by Joseph Kony- and that is only one tiny example of the tragedies that occur in other countries. We my not agree totally on what our government does but we are truly blessed and we should never forget that.

2.) You father and I will support you no matter what you choose to be when you grow up. As long as you follow your dreams and you are happy. In the past few months it has been: Paleontologist, Circus Man, Fire Fighter, and a Trash Truck Driver. Remember...as long as you are happy...we are happy for you.

 3.) It is OK to get dirty...Just have fun. 

4.) It is OK to cry. Crying does not mean you are weak. We all have emotions and it is OK to express them. We all have moments of sadness and frustration-we are human.

 

5.) How to cook. One day your wife will appreciate it!

 

6.) You are only 3 and I love your enthusiasm on helping with house chores. You certainly take after your daddy. Mommy is very lucky  :) It is nice to help each other out.

7.) It is OK to indulge every once in a while.......

 

8.) It is important to stay active and healthy as well. 

 

9.) Learn how to be handy with tools....it will save you a lot of money one day.

10.) One day you will fall in love. I hope you become the kind of man your father is. Respectful and kind. Sweet and playful. A best friend. I also hope you will continue to pick your mother flowers even when you have this love in your life.

11.) When you grow up you may move away. For school, for a career, or even for a love. I hope you always remember where you came from and that our door is always open. We love you more than words could ever express. Never forget or doubt our love for you and for each other.

12.) The most important thing in life is to be yourself. UNLESS you can be Batman. ALWAYS be Batman.

 

13.) But remember even superhero's need their rest.

14.) If you promise to keep your love for learning and reading I promise to keep you interested. I will always make learning fun for you ...at least for as long as I can.

15.) One day you will learn to drive. The day will come where you will pass your drivers test and be handed a license and a set of keys. Please resist the urge to "race' with your buddies... it is dangerous and careless and lots of lives have been lost that way.

16.) Be a good friend.

 

17.) Be nice to animals.

18.) Bad thing will happen in life. We may not always understand why..but life does go on. It is true what they say, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Always keep your faith.

19.) When you smile everyone will smile with you. Never lose that charm. Be silly. Laugh loud. Love life.

With Love,

Mommy

Quality Time weighs more than Quantity Time-My journey to Realization

     What would you do with extra hours in a day? More days in a week? An extra week in the year? Would you you take an extra weeks vacation, make time to join the gym, or finish that scrapbook of your child's first year of life...even though he is almost three? 

     I could sit here and daydream for hours of the sweetness that extra time would bring but then I would be wasting some of the precious few minutes I have in the morning. The moment in between the time my husband kisses me good-bye and heads for work and my son awakens from his peaceful sleep in room adjacent from ours. Cup of coffee in hand, some music, and my writing. My Zen moment.

     I learned pretty early in life that it isn't about how much time you don't have but more about how you use the time you do have. This especially came to reality after I had my son....or around when he turned 2 and a half months old. That is when I ventured back into the workforce. I left work as an employee on maternity leave and came back a scared new mom with two jobs and the one at home being the most important.

Working 9-5 with a 45 minute to an  hour commute one way has it's struggles. In the beginning I found myself sad and then angry at the fact that I only had 2 hours a day to really spend with my husband and son. And now with Ed's new job at Fedex by the time he gets home we hardly have an hour to spend together during the week before we are passed out in bed. Then I realize that I am lucky to still get to fall asleep in his arms every night.

     I pulled myself together and realized that it isn't about quantity it really is about quality. No matter how much time you spend with your children or grandchildren if you aren't making memories then you are wasting time.We have had a few family members upset with us in the past because we couldn't squeeze in extra days in the month to visit every weekend. A battle that I am sure we all find ourselves in. I wanted to yell sometimes, "Stand in line -we all want more time with this little boy." In the same sense I understood the frustration as I wished we could see them all the time as well. We did , in fact, enjoy their company very much. The fact of the matter is, however, that we are splitting up the weekends between both sets of families, our closest friends, as well as leaving a few precious days for just the three of us. They would have to learn to make the most out of the time they had. We all did. Unfortunately being in the same room as someone when your attention is focused on cooking, cleaning, work, and phone calls isn't making memories and isn't savored time. 

     From the moment I pick Eddie up from daycare to the time he is in bed under the covers I am making memories with him. In the car he tells me about his day and we sing a few songs. Sometimes he asks me to tell him stories. His favorite story right now is bout Eddie the Paleontologist that goes to the dessert to look for fossils. Last week it was about Eddie the knight who fought the ferocious dragon and saved the King and Queen.(Whom he named Mommy and Daddy.) I savor the 15 minute car ride to our home. Sometimes he just wants it to be quiet and that is OK too. I tell him.sometimes mommy likes the quiet as well.

     The next 120 minutes is pure quality time. Eat dinner at the table as a family and then we go with the flow depending on how Eddie feels. Sometimes is painting, sometimes it is play dough, or train sets, or reading, or even a movie. During the warmer months it is always a walk around the block or running around our backyard. The dinner dishes sit in the sink, the jackets lay on the couch, and lets be honest I am most like not touching that laundry pile tonight....or tomorrow. (Have you picked up on the fact I hate laundry, yet?)

     One thing I do know is that when Eddie says to me "Remember yesterday, mommy...we had a picnic in the living room? That was fun! Remember?!" I see that he wont look back and remember that his mom was only home a few hours a day but he will remember the memories we made each and every single savory second we had. 

Exhale.....Sigh...Smile

So tell me ...just for fun, "What would you do with an extra hour in a day, day in a week, week in a month, month in a year?"

With an extra hour I would make it a point to exercise a full hour straight....or maybe take a nice relaxing bath. (yea I like that one better)

With an extra day I would make sure to visit family every single week since we would still have two full days (that is, of course if the extra day was a weekend..in my world it would be)

With an extra week I would take a two week vacation somewhere beautiful like Italy or Colombia and really get to explore and see the culture (Although I'm sure two weeks still wouldn't be enough time to see it all)

With an extra month I would take a class....something just for me. Painting, Salsa dancing, A CSI class (I saw one in an advertisement before looked interesting!)

I want to hear from you!