Thursday, January 27, 2011

Nothing of importance

I've been struggling to find something to write about. I guess when I think about it, not having anything to write about is kind of a good thing. It's usually when I have the overwhelming urge to write that I'm having the hardest time and I need to get it out on "paper."

Things here have been going well. A friend of mine noticed that I seem to be doing better over the past week or so. I attribute that to 2 things.

1.) God has given me His peace again. He has flooded my heart and my mind with His crazy love for me, and I am willing to let it wash over me and calm my soul.
2.) I struggle the most from the 6th (the day Joshua died) to the 16th (the day Joshua was born) every month. Between those 2 weeks, I'm a basket case. Then, I'm ok again until the 6th rolls along and I relive the grief and sadness all over again.

Speaking of friends, I noticed something else. Most of my very best friends without naming names or ages, with the exception of a few, are mostly in their late 30's to mid 40's. I'm 27.  I wonder why that is? Just an interesting nugget of a thought that I discovered.

Lately, I've been thinking about the day Joshua died again. They aren't flashbacks by any means, but I remember that day frequently and with detail. I'm amazed at what the mind can remember in a traumatic situation. It seems that some of the details from that morning I have forgotten, but then they come back to me with vivid detail. For example, this morning in the shower, I was thinking about watching Joshua's 02 Saturation levels dropping right before he coded. I remember picking him up. I remember the feeling of his body in my arms. I remember the exact moment that his Sats dropped from 60 (which was still considered within safe range) to 58 (below safe.) I remember it going from 58 to 55 within 30 seconds. Then I remember watching the 55 go to 51. 51 to 48. I remember the numbers specifically. It wasn't until 48 that I really started panicking. I panicked because his Sats were that low on 90% oxygen. Then it went from 48 down to 38. Once it hit 30 that's when his heart rate started to drop.

I'm amazed at what I can remember. Who can ever remember numbers like that? Most days, I can't even remember where my car keys are or what time Shane gets off work- but those numbers, I will never forget.

It's also interesting to me that remembering that morning still brings me pain and sadness, but it's not overwhelming and suffocating like it used to be. Remembering that morning doesn't send me into a full blown flashback like it used to. Remembering that morning reminds me, ultimately, of how good God is even when we don't think His plan is perfect. Remembering that morning reminds me of how much I love Joshua and how thankful I am to have had him for 51 days. I wanted him for the rest of my life here on Earth, but I'm thankful that due to today's technology and the skills of the surgeons, doctors, and nurses I was able to know my son for 51 days compared to just a few days (he would have only lived that long without medical intervention- HLHS is 100% fatal without medical intervention.) I wouldn't trade those 51 days for anything.

I've stopped going to counseling. While I was going, I was having the flashbacks. Since I've stopped, I've not had a single flashback. I talked to my therapist about it, and she said that she feels like it is the best thing for me to not go right now. She said that sometimes the stress of having to talk about it, or think about what I'm going to talk about all week long could worsen the effects. I agreed. She left an open door for me to come back any time I need to if I feel like I'm really struggling.

At this point, I think I am actually doing better now that I'm not in it, but if I feel the need to go back- I will. It sounds stupid, but I think one of my strengths is being able to look at myself with perspective- I can look within myself and know exactly what I am doing and how I feel.

For example, as I was screaming F_ _ _ You to God, I knew deep down that I still believe and love Him- I was able to look deep down and know- but I wanted to scream at Him and tell Him that I hate Him.

The same thing goes for my journey with grief. I struggle sometimes, but deep down, I know that I will be ok. Some days I just want to die- but I know that killing myself is not the answer and will not solve anything. I would never do anything like that, no matter how appealing the thought sounds at the moment. Does that make sense or just make me sound like a complete basket case?

I guess what I'm trying to say through this whole post is this: I am ok. I will be ok. The pain is still there. The emotions and struggles still hurt, but ultimately, it comes back to those 4 words that I told Joshua just moments after he left my arms and went into the arms of Jesus. "God is still good." I know it and I feel it deep in my soul. God is still good.


Heather said...

WOW ~ this post is so telling of how far you have come in this journey. Of course it still hurts, I don't think that hurt will ever completely go away. Totally different situation here, but my brother (my only brother which would mean my mother's only son) was murdered 5 1/2 years ago. Of course the first thought people have when they hear murder is "what did he do". Well, let me just say that he did nothing but love a woman that had a very controlling ex. He was basically in the wrong place at the wrong time ... he was sleeping in his bed in the middle of the night. My brother walked me down the aisle ~ he was my rock. He didn't deserve to die and I have been so angry / hurt ... yes, with God. I have been slowly working through that anger / hurt and let me tell you that reading your blog and knowing your love and devotion in God has helped me so much and I thank you for this gift. Your faith is helping me regain my faith. No, I have never given up on my faith, but you are guiding me in a way that I had lost ... does any of this make sense? I feel like I am just rambling ... so, let me just end with a great big THANK YOU!!!

Kristine said...

You will be okay. I don't know if this will help you, but this is analogy I use when thinking about losing my child and how I explain it to other people. It's like losing my leg. It will always be gone. It will always be frustrating/sad/awful, but as the months go on, I learn to walk a bit better without my leg. I learn to work around it. I am different. I will always be different. But, like you I'm okay. Lots of love. xo

No Wonder Mom said...

TEARS.... I had to take a moment before commenting. My mom died too young 3 years ago. She was waiting for a double lung and heart transplant. I was pregnant at the time and we found out we were having a boy the week before she passed. He was born 3 1/2 months later, on Easter Sunday. It also would have been my parents 34th wedding anniversary that day. Shortly after our son was born, we discovered that he has a rare liver disease and will eventually need a liver transplant. This disease also affects the lungs and he may need a transplant for those someday too (they think now that my mom may have had the same disease). Just a couple of months ago, we also learned that his kidneys aren't developing with the rest of his body and he may need dialysis. I live in this chaos of medical terms, lab work, and regular appointments and wonder if God is planning to take my precious child Home before me and if I'll be able to handle that. Thank you for being so brave and sharing your story. It's heart breaking, but also encouraging. God is good, indeed.

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