"Don't ever lose hope and give up, everything turns out okay and the good guys always win." ~Anonymous
Last Friday I was sitting on the beach by myself. I had pulled my beach chair down to the water so that as the waves were coming in they would splash up my legs and cool me off. It was just me, my book and the waves (and a few dozen others who's condos were near ours). I was enjoying the sound of the waves, the sunshine, the kids who were boogie boarding near me, the sand in between my toes, and my book. Every couple of pages I would look up at the ocean and take it all in - the smell of salt water in the air, the way the sky mixes with the ocean out on the horizon, the peacefulness that comes with being close to water. This was our last day and I wanted to enjoy every second I had left. It was then, on that Friday, alone on the beach, that I finally realized - I'm going to be okay.
Since I lost Stella, so many people have told me that I was eventually going to be okay. My counselor has even made me say it out loud a few times during therapy. I never believed it. I continued on, tried to muddle through my life knowing that I had to keep living but never believing that I would ever feel alive again. If, even for a second, the thought of being okay crossed my mind I would quickly remind myself that Stella, my daughter, my only child had died in my arms. How could I ever be okay after that?
I spent a lot of time crying the week that we were at the beach. We decided to bring Stella's ashes with us - just looking at and holding her urn brings me great comfort. I cried on our way to North Carolina in the car, I cried when I set her urn next to the bed in the condo, I cried at the beach, in bed, in the shower and while laying on the couch. Of course I had fun - I enjoyed being with family, eating the amazing food that Chris prepared for us, and riding jet skis. But I missed my Stella! I don't know what changed on Friday - I don't know why God chose that day, that minute... But what I do know is that it has been 8 days later and I still know with all of my heart that I am going to be okay. For the first time in 6 months I feel optimistic. I know that the pain that I feel today will never go away but the severity will lessen. I know that Stella will be with me in my heart until the day that I die and I get to finally see her again. I want her to be an active part of my life, but in a joyful way and not a sorrowful way.
On Friday evening John and I took Stella down to the beach. I always feel a little closer to God while I'm standing in the sand beside the ocean - and I felt a little closer to Stella then too. We both took a pinch of her ashes and as a wave was returning to sea we sent a little piece of Stella to sea as well. John and I hugged and cried - we talked to Stella - we promised each other that we were going to get through this. As we were standing there a beautiful seashell washed up between our feet. John picked it up, turned around and wrote Stella's name in the sand. As he was writing none of the waves rolled in far enough to even touch our feet. When he finished we just stood there, holding each other, looking at our daughter's name... just as we were taking a step away from her name and the ocean a large wave rolled in and washed the writing away. I felt as if that wave took a tremendous amount of my pain with it as it retreated back to the sea.
Since coming back from the beach John and I have been busy getting ready for the upcoming school year. I went back to work on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday for our professional development days. John had a lot of work to do for his online class and some research he has been working on. We have both been looking forward to the future. We know that with everyday that passes we are getting a little bit stronger. That is why we have decided that we are ready to expand our family.... John and I are going to adopt!
This week has been sort of a whirl wind of information seeking, paperwork and immediate excitement.
Monday - I contacted Catholic Charities of Owensboro, KY and spoke to a women about our interest in adoption and our wanting to go through their agency. (We had already done the research before leaving for the beach.) She had her assistant send us out the paperwork that day.
Tuesday - We received the paperwork in the mail and I immediately filled it out. When John came home from bingo at the Knight of Columbus he signed on the dotted lines.
Wednesday - The paperwork was back in the mail on it's way to Owensboro.
Friday - We received a letter in the mail inviting us to the adoption workshop for August 20 and 21. Basically we bypassed the waiting period and we were accepted as an adoptive family right away. As soon as the workshop is over Catholic Charities will begin our Home Study - a lengthy process meant to determine if John and I are stable individuals capable of raising a child.... I think we just may pass ;)
After our Home Study is complete it may be a few months before a birth mother chooses us as her child's adoptive parents. However, Catholic Charities does not have workshops if they do not have birth mothers to match up with those invited to the workshop. So from what we understand the process should not take years but hopefully only a few months, a year at the most.
We can hardly contain our excitement. We finally feel like there is something to look forward to and something to get out of bed for. Four months ago - hell, even one month ago I was not ready to be anyone but Stella's mom. Today I know I'm ready to be the mom of an angel and a mom to a little one right here on Earth.
Please pray for us - we will need God's guidance as we take one this tremendous undertaking... adoption.
Not flesh of my flesh, Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn't grow under my heart - but in it
--- Fleur Conkling Heylinger
Showing posts with label journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journey. Show all posts
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
What I've learned
Yesterday was the five month Angelversary of my beautiful daughter Stella. Somewhere around 7:00pm on February 5, 2011 Stella's Doctor, Dr. Cohan, looked up at me - looked right into my eyes and said "Shanna she is not going to survive this." That event was preceded by about an hour of chaos... beeping machines, doctors and nurses running in and out of her room, etc. When all is quiet and dark in the middle of the night my brain goes back to that exact moment... "Shanna she is not going to survive this...Shanna she is not going to survive this... Shanna she is not going to survive this." plays over and over in my head like a broken record. Right now if I close my eyes, I can still see Dr. Cohen clear as day: he is in jeans and an old sweatshirt (because he was called in when her stats began to fall), with a little scruff like he hadn't shaved since yesterday, but with his honest and kind eyes looking right into mine. At the same time as he was saying those words to me I was remembering the night I checked into the hospital almost three weeks before. He looked at me then with those same honest and kind eyes when he promised that he would do everything he could to save Stella. He also promised that he would always tell me the truth about her condition and if/when all hope was lost he would tell me straight out and allow me the honor of holding her as she passed.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Precious
Nine years ago almost to the day my Big Shannon (big sister in the sorority) and I were laying around the sorority house bored out of our minds. She had been wanting to get a dog for a while so she had the bright idea to head to the Humane Society of Clarion County to see if there were any puppies that caught her eye. I very reluctantly went with her - I had never been to a Humane Society because I didn't feel like I could leave and not take a dog with me. I was nervous but a little excited at the possibility of her getting a dog. We went in and right over to the "puppy" section. All the dogs were barking so loud and it echos in there so it sounded like they were all right next to me. I was very overwhelmed by the noise and all the dogs jumping at their cage doors. We sort of skimmed the cages ... just looking. I don't remember which one of us noticed her but before I knew it we were pulling this beautiful Chow/Shepard mix out of the back of her cage and hooking a leash up to her collar. Her tail was tucked tightly between her legs, she was shaking, and her large ears were pressed back against her head. We sort of dragged her outside to the small grassy patch that the shelter had for the dogs. We sat down on a bench and watched her tentatively sniff around. She never really came over to us - we had to reach out to pet her as she would turn away, afraid of human contact. It broke my heart to put her back into the cage and watch her backup and attempt to shrink into a tiny ball. She never barked, never jumped at her door, never made any attempt to get our attention after we put her back in there. We left the Humane Society with one goal: getting our landlords to give their consent for us to take that pretty girl home.
The next day we went back to the Humane Society, proclaimed that she was going to be "our" dog, and took that frightened pup back to the sorority house. The adoption papers had a spot for the name of the dog. We had not even thought about what to name her. I looked at Shannon and all we could say was that she was so very Precious. So I wrote Precious under her name and off we went. Now Precious didn't trot out the Humane Society sure that she was about to go to an awesome home. I believe that Shannon held the leash while I picked her up and sort of drug her out the door and to Shannon's car. She then took over and picked her up and put her in the backseat. I sat back there with her while we drove back to the sorority house.
It took Precious a few days to come out of the corner of the living room, about a week to bark, and months to show anyone but Shannon and I any love. She was scared out of her mind about everything... the tv, a loud car outside, if you moved suddenly, and especially men! Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and before we knew it Precious and I had formed a bond that could not be broken. Neither Shannon or I ever discussed it... it was sort of obvious - Precious had become my dog.
Fast forward nine years... throughout that whole time my girl was with me as I graduated from college and moved into an apartment, fell in love with John and she insisted on living with him instead of me and then moved to Akron with John. She was there to mother the two tiny kittens we found (Sammie and Magellan) and she took to Zeppelin right away as if she knew that he needed a good home. She helped to show him the "dog" ropes and what it took to be apart of the Spinda family. May of 2009 I reached my goal of one day getting a huge yard for Precious to run, play, and just hang out in. I can't describe what it feels like to watch her and Zeppelin run and play or for Prec to just lay in her yard and watch the neighborhood. Precious became a "mom" for the forth time when we adopted a week old kitten and bottle fed her until she became the terror that she is today, Pumpkin. Precious sat gaurd of Pumpkin's cage while she slept, she growled at anyone (person or animal) who attempted to go near the cage, and sat closely to watch over John and I as we were feeding her. We recently added babies six and seven to Precious's broad with Tony and Carmella (the bunnies). She is the matriarch of the Spinda's clan... it is amazing to watch the cats rub up against her, it is so funny when Zepp follows her around the backyard, and so touching when she goes in and licks Carmella's head/ears.
You may have read this touching history of Precious and I and then asked yourself: what does this story have to do with "Stella's Journey?" I can't talk about Precious without talking about Stella... I feel... no, I know that Precious knew when I was pregnant. She started barking more at things that were outside (cars, people, etc), she was a little more territorial, and she was very lovey with me. Throughout John and I's fertility struggles we would always mention "we have to have a baby while we have Prec, she will be so good with him/her!" We could not contain our excitement to bring Stella home and watch Precious's motherly instinct kick in. Our only fear was that she would get a little too protective and not let anyone but us hold her. :)
When I was in the hospital with Stella Precious went to stay with my mom. My mom sent pictures daily of Precious laying on the couch with her, playing in the snow, and looking sad missing her mama and daddy. It was very difficult to be in the hospital, as I have expressed before, so far away from friends and family. However it was even more difficult to be away from Precious. I was so used to Prec cuddling up with me when I was sick or sad. The days leading up to my admittance into the hospital, Precious stuck close to my side. She laid on the bed or couch with me while I was on bedrest at home and made me feel so loved and comforted.
After Stella passed away she stayed with my mom until we came up to PA for Stella's Memorial Service. We had Zeppelin back from the kennel and Sammie, Magellan, and Pumpkin were here the whole time, but something felt wrong... we didn't have our main lady - Precious! When we showed up at my mom's house a few days before the service Precious must have heard us outside as we walked to the door. She ran down the stairs so fast and hard that she pulled a muscle in her front leg. Our poor girl limped around for a few days all because she had missed her mama and daddy so so much! Once she was home and we had the gang all together we felt like we could begin to put the pieces of our lives back in place. Having pets after you lose your child can be so therapeutic... the dogs forced us to get up and out of bed and the cats came up and cuddled with us when we were crying. When we just need to sit in Stella's room and look through her things, Precious is always there to sit beside us and show us support in the only way she knows how... to love on us.
I'm writing this blog post while my Precious girl is getting her tooth removed... she had a full physical (with bloodwork) about a week ago. She is a very healthy ten year old pup but I'm still nervous! Save for a months that I was "homeless" after college (when she stayed in the care of her wonderful Aunt Sarah) Precious has been the only constant in my life, everyday, every moment living with me for nine years! John and I haven't even been together that long. After the horrific six months that we have just been through, losing our Queen our Angel Babe our Ronie Girl (pronounced with a long O) would probably completely break us... not like losing a child doesn't break you, but to have such a tremendous loss and to be right in the middle of attempting to find your new normal and then to lose such an amazing pup... ugh I can't even explain what that would do to us!
So while my girl is currently in surgery, taking it like a champ (I pray), I am sitting here on the recliner. I am unable to do anything else but write about my Precious babe and I know that that is okay. I wait anxiously by the phone for her Dr. to call me and let me know everything is okay and I pray that I can bring my babe home tonight and take care of her like she has taken care of me for so many years!
The next day we went back to the Humane Society, proclaimed that she was going to be "our" dog, and took that frightened pup back to the sorority house. The adoption papers had a spot for the name of the dog. We had not even thought about what to name her. I looked at Shannon and all we could say was that she was so very Precious. So I wrote Precious under her name and off we went. Now Precious didn't trot out the Humane Society sure that she was about to go to an awesome home. I believe that Shannon held the leash while I picked her up and sort of drug her out the door and to Shannon's car. She then took over and picked her up and put her in the backseat. I sat back there with her while we drove back to the sorority house.
It took Precious a few days to come out of the corner of the living room, about a week to bark, and months to show anyone but Shannon and I any love. She was scared out of her mind about everything... the tv, a loud car outside, if you moved suddenly, and especially men! Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and before we knew it Precious and I had formed a bond that could not be broken. Neither Shannon or I ever discussed it... it was sort of obvious - Precious had become my dog.
Fast forward nine years... throughout that whole time my girl was with me as I graduated from college and moved into an apartment, fell in love with John and she insisted on living with him instead of me and then moved to Akron with John. She was there to mother the two tiny kittens we found (Sammie and Magellan) and she took to Zeppelin right away as if she knew that he needed a good home. She helped to show him the "dog" ropes and what it took to be apart of the Spinda family. May of 2009 I reached my goal of one day getting a huge yard for Precious to run, play, and just hang out in. I can't describe what it feels like to watch her and Zeppelin run and play or for Prec to just lay in her yard and watch the neighborhood. Precious became a "mom" for the forth time when we adopted a week old kitten and bottle fed her until she became the terror that she is today, Pumpkin. Precious sat gaurd of Pumpkin's cage while she slept, she growled at anyone (person or animal) who attempted to go near the cage, and sat closely to watch over John and I as we were feeding her. We recently added babies six and seven to Precious's broad with Tony and Carmella (the bunnies). She is the matriarch of the Spinda's clan... it is amazing to watch the cats rub up against her, it is so funny when Zepp follows her around the backyard, and so touching when she goes in and licks Carmella's head/ears.
You may have read this touching history of Precious and I and then asked yourself: what does this story have to do with "Stella's Journey?" I can't talk about Precious without talking about Stella... I feel... no, I know that Precious knew when I was pregnant. She started barking more at things that were outside (cars, people, etc), she was a little more territorial, and she was very lovey with me. Throughout John and I's fertility struggles we would always mention "we have to have a baby while we have Prec, she will be so good with him/her!" We could not contain our excitement to bring Stella home and watch Precious's motherly instinct kick in. Our only fear was that she would get a little too protective and not let anyone but us hold her. :)
When I was in the hospital with Stella Precious went to stay with my mom. My mom sent pictures daily of Precious laying on the couch with her, playing in the snow, and looking sad missing her mama and daddy. It was very difficult to be in the hospital, as I have expressed before, so far away from friends and family. However it was even more difficult to be away from Precious. I was so used to Prec cuddling up with me when I was sick or sad. The days leading up to my admittance into the hospital, Precious stuck close to my side. She laid on the bed or couch with me while I was on bedrest at home and made me feel so loved and comforted.
After Stella passed away she stayed with my mom until we came up to PA for Stella's Memorial Service. We had Zeppelin back from the kennel and Sammie, Magellan, and Pumpkin were here the whole time, but something felt wrong... we didn't have our main lady - Precious! When we showed up at my mom's house a few days before the service Precious must have heard us outside as we walked to the door. She ran down the stairs so fast and hard that she pulled a muscle in her front leg. Our poor girl limped around for a few days all because she had missed her mama and daddy so so much! Once she was home and we had the gang all together we felt like we could begin to put the pieces of our lives back in place. Having pets after you lose your child can be so therapeutic... the dogs forced us to get up and out of bed and the cats came up and cuddled with us when we were crying. When we just need to sit in Stella's room and look through her things, Precious is always there to sit beside us and show us support in the only way she knows how... to love on us.
I'm writing this blog post while my Precious girl is getting her tooth removed... she had a full physical (with bloodwork) about a week ago. She is a very healthy ten year old pup but I'm still nervous! Save for a months that I was "homeless" after college (when she stayed in the care of her wonderful Aunt Sarah) Precious has been the only constant in my life, everyday, every moment living with me for nine years! John and I haven't even been together that long. After the horrific six months that we have just been through, losing our Queen our Angel Babe our Ronie Girl (pronounced with a long O) would probably completely break us... not like losing a child doesn't break you, but to have such a tremendous loss and to be right in the middle of attempting to find your new normal and then to lose such an amazing pup... ugh I can't even explain what that would do to us!
So while my girl is currently in surgery, taking it like a champ (I pray), I am sitting here on the recliner. I am unable to do anything else but write about my Precious babe and I know that that is okay. I wait anxiously by the phone for her Dr. to call me and let me know everything is okay and I pray that I can bring my babe home tonight and take care of her like she has taken care of me for so many years!
Friday, June 17, 2011
What I Want
God never asked me what I wanted. If he had, I would have told Him to fix her, to make her all better so that I can bring her home and love her more than anything in this world. God never asks us what we want. We learn that the world just doesn't work that way, that He just doesn't work that way. I know there is a plan... I know that God doesn't "do" things to us - He does them for us. And when the things that are done hurt us, He is there to cry with us. This doesn't stop me from thinking about all the things that I want.
I have never been the kind of person who could ask for things. I am the one to meet others' needs and if mine get met in the mean time - great, if not - I muddle through. Lately I have been really struggling. (I laugh as I type that) That phrase is about the best way that I can express myself to anyone. My way of reaching out is to say "I have been struggling lately." Not a very direct way of reaching out, huh? Maybe it is because I'm not used to reaching out. Maybe it is because I don't want to be a bother. I think that part of the reason that I don't want to reach out is because I am afraid that I will be rejected. Not asking hurts much less than asking and being rejected. I guess writing my feelings in this blog and then hoping that people read it is about as indirect as saying "I have been struggling lately." (I laugh again at myself) Although I know that I'm being very indirect, that writing in Stella's blog is not the same as actually calling someone and telling them what I need - I feel that this will get a lot of things off my mind. I haven't written in a long time. I've let Mother's Day come and go, Stella's Due Date come and go, and all of the very bad and very good moments in between come and go without writing. I hope to write a special post for the love of my life on Father's Day, but today's post is just about me. My needs... what I want!
I want my daughter back! I want to hold Stella. I want to sing to Stella. I want to read to Stella. I want to give Stella a bath and dress her in a pretty dress. I want to wake up at 3am because Stella is screaming and hungry. I want to sit in Stella's room and feed her until she falls asleep. I want my daughter back. I want her to go to preschool and kindergarten. I want her to make her First Holy Communion. I want Stella to go to school and I want to help her with her homework. I want to watch my daughter grow up. I want Stella to graduate from High School and go off to college. I want her to come home on the weekends and ask me to do her laundry. I want to watch Stella fall in love, succeed at her career, and start a family. I want Stella to be a mother. I just want Stella back in this world!
I want my pregnancy back! I want to travel back in time, back to December 21, 2010 8:00am - the exact time that we were first told that something was wrong with our baby girl. I want to go back to that day in the ultrasound room. I want Stella to be the exact size that she was supposed to be. I want to finish out the next 20 weeks of my pregnancy without complications. I want to have a baby shower, to paint her room, to wash her clothes, to put her crib together. I never had a baby shower - instead I had a memorial service and a lunch at the restaurant where my shower was booked. We didn't get a chance to paint her room - we wanted to wait until after Christmas. I never had a chance to wash her clothes - I took all the tags off and put them in a laundry basket, but I didn't have any baby laundry detergent yet. Her clothes are still in the laundry basket waiting to be washed. We never had a chance to put her crib together - John was going to do that the week before he went back from Christmas break. We were in Louisville already during that week. He crib now sits in the box, in her closet. I want to have heartburn, swollen feet, and no energy again. I want to sing in the car at the top of my lungs and feel Stella kicking me again.
I want to feel something other than deep, painful sadness. Even when I'm smiling I can still feel such horrible pain. I want someone to come sit with me when I'm sad and crying. I want someone to hold my hand. I want someone to reach out to John and help him through this difficult time so that he doesn't have to be so strong for me. I want people to understand that I'm not "over it", I'm not "better now", and I never will be. I want people to understand that four months is NOT a very long time. I often wake up and think that it has only been a few days since I lost Stella.
I want people to know what this is like without actually having to lose a child. I have nightmares every single night. Every night! I haven't been able to actually fall asleep on my own (without medication) since I went into the hospital in January. I have to have at least one TV on, sometimes two, at all times. If the room gets silent I start to hear my screams from the night that she passed away. I replay the last few hours of Stella's death in my head at random times - while I'm watching tv, driving in the car, or even when I'm grocery shopping. I have to remember exactly what nurses where in the room, who was doing what, and what they said to me. If I can't remember I start to panic. "Grief comes in waves" - that's the quote that everyone uses to describe grief. My waves knock me over, punch me in the eye, and leave me for dead... if it wasn't for my wonderful husband, I may just lie there and let those waves kill me. I ask God to take me at least once a day. I try to bargain with Him - He can take me if He gives John Stella, or sometimes I just ask if He can take me so that I can be with Stella up there. I often just yell out "I don't want to be alive" or "I can't live without her" I feel that these statements are true. Please note: I do not have any plans on killing myself. I just do not feel like I can live without Stella. I do not have the ability to deal with anything emotional. I can't process and reason. Things get jumbled up in my brain and I can't get them sorted out. I can barely talk on the phone, I can't read books, I spend most of my time playing Farmville on FB because it distracts me, I watch the same cop shows over and over again and sometimes they are the only things that keep me calm. I want everyone to know that I am not nor will I ever be the same person.
I want people to know that I need help! NOT medical or mental help... I'm going to counseling, I've talked with my priest, and I'm pretty open about my feelings with John. But I need help! I need someone to help me take care of things. I need someone to just sit with me. I need someone to help me get back to working out. I need someone to tell me that sleeping till 3pm and then watching tv the rest of the day is okay and normal. I just need help!
I wrote at the beginning of this post that I am not able to reach out. My counselor suggested to me this week that I begin to reach out to "safe" people. I find writing a blog to be safe. This is about as much reaching out as I can do...
I have never been the kind of person who could ask for things. I am the one to meet others' needs and if mine get met in the mean time - great, if not - I muddle through. Lately I have been really struggling. (I laugh as I type that) That phrase is about the best way that I can express myself to anyone. My way of reaching out is to say "I have been struggling lately." Not a very direct way of reaching out, huh? Maybe it is because I'm not used to reaching out. Maybe it is because I don't want to be a bother. I think that part of the reason that I don't want to reach out is because I am afraid that I will be rejected. Not asking hurts much less than asking and being rejected. I guess writing my feelings in this blog and then hoping that people read it is about as indirect as saying "I have been struggling lately." (I laugh again at myself) Although I know that I'm being very indirect, that writing in Stella's blog is not the same as actually calling someone and telling them what I need - I feel that this will get a lot of things off my mind. I haven't written in a long time. I've let Mother's Day come and go, Stella's Due Date come and go, and all of the very bad and very good moments in between come and go without writing. I hope to write a special post for the love of my life on Father's Day, but today's post is just about me. My needs... what I want!
I want my daughter back! I want to hold Stella. I want to sing to Stella. I want to read to Stella. I want to give Stella a bath and dress her in a pretty dress. I want to wake up at 3am because Stella is screaming and hungry. I want to sit in Stella's room and feed her until she falls asleep. I want my daughter back. I want her to go to preschool and kindergarten. I want her to make her First Holy Communion. I want Stella to go to school and I want to help her with her homework. I want to watch my daughter grow up. I want Stella to graduate from High School and go off to college. I want her to come home on the weekends and ask me to do her laundry. I want to watch Stella fall in love, succeed at her career, and start a family. I want Stella to be a mother. I just want Stella back in this world!
I want my pregnancy back! I want to travel back in time, back to December 21, 2010 8:00am - the exact time that we were first told that something was wrong with our baby girl. I want to go back to that day in the ultrasound room. I want Stella to be the exact size that she was supposed to be. I want to finish out the next 20 weeks of my pregnancy without complications. I want to have a baby shower, to paint her room, to wash her clothes, to put her crib together. I never had a baby shower - instead I had a memorial service and a lunch at the restaurant where my shower was booked. We didn't get a chance to paint her room - we wanted to wait until after Christmas. I never had a chance to wash her clothes - I took all the tags off and put them in a laundry basket, but I didn't have any baby laundry detergent yet. Her clothes are still in the laundry basket waiting to be washed. We never had a chance to put her crib together - John was going to do that the week before he went back from Christmas break. We were in Louisville already during that week. He crib now sits in the box, in her closet. I want to have heartburn, swollen feet, and no energy again. I want to sing in the car at the top of my lungs and feel Stella kicking me again.
I want to feel something other than deep, painful sadness. Even when I'm smiling I can still feel such horrible pain. I want someone to come sit with me when I'm sad and crying. I want someone to hold my hand. I want someone to reach out to John and help him through this difficult time so that he doesn't have to be so strong for me. I want people to understand that I'm not "over it", I'm not "better now", and I never will be. I want people to understand that four months is NOT a very long time. I often wake up and think that it has only been a few days since I lost Stella.
I want people to know what this is like without actually having to lose a child. I have nightmares every single night. Every night! I haven't been able to actually fall asleep on my own (without medication) since I went into the hospital in January. I have to have at least one TV on, sometimes two, at all times. If the room gets silent I start to hear my screams from the night that she passed away. I replay the last few hours of Stella's death in my head at random times - while I'm watching tv, driving in the car, or even when I'm grocery shopping. I have to remember exactly what nurses where in the room, who was doing what, and what they said to me. If I can't remember I start to panic. "Grief comes in waves" - that's the quote that everyone uses to describe grief. My waves knock me over, punch me in the eye, and leave me for dead... if it wasn't for my wonderful husband, I may just lie there and let those waves kill me. I ask God to take me at least once a day. I try to bargain with Him - He can take me if He gives John Stella, or sometimes I just ask if He can take me so that I can be with Stella up there. I often just yell out "I don't want to be alive" or "I can't live without her" I feel that these statements are true. Please note: I do not have any plans on killing myself. I just do not feel like I can live without Stella. I do not have the ability to deal with anything emotional. I can't process and reason. Things get jumbled up in my brain and I can't get them sorted out. I can barely talk on the phone, I can't read books, I spend most of my time playing Farmville on FB because it distracts me, I watch the same cop shows over and over again and sometimes they are the only things that keep me calm. I want everyone to know that I am not nor will I ever be the same person.
I want people to know that I need help! NOT medical or mental help... I'm going to counseling, I've talked with my priest, and I'm pretty open about my feelings with John. But I need help! I need someone to help me take care of things. I need someone to just sit with me. I need someone to help me get back to working out. I need someone to tell me that sleeping till 3pm and then watching tv the rest of the day is okay and normal. I just need help!
I wrote at the beginning of this post that I am not able to reach out. My counselor suggested to me this week that I begin to reach out to "safe" people. I find writing a blog to be safe. This is about as much reaching out as I can do...
Friday, April 8, 2011
Without Stella...
Two months and three days ago I walked out of the new NICU Pod J without Stella, I walked off the Labor & Delivery Floor without Stella, I walked out of Norton Hospital without Stella. Two days later I went to a funeral home and signed papers allowing them to take Stella. I was walking around the world without Stella. Two days after that I went to the doctor's office to get my staples out without Stella. Other women were in there for checkups with their babies. John and I sat in the waiting room without Stella. That evening after my appointment we left Louisville without Stella. I had come there three weeks before with her and I left without her.
I walked into my house in Murray, KY without Stella. John carried in her things - stuffed animals, clothes, blankets, cards, flowers, and much more. But we never carried Stella into the house. I didn't leave the bedroom for days. John brought me coffee and cereal in the morning and dinner at night. I mostly slept through lunch with help from the pain pill I was given for my C-Section. When I finally walked out of the bedroom a few days later I walked into a house that Stella did not live in. The days came and went without Stella. I started taking showers and brushing my teeth. I started riding in the car with John to go places. I didn't get out of the car at first, but at least I left the house.
I started going to lunch with friends. A mere three weeks earlier I had given birth, but I went to lunch without Stella. I started to function without Stella. The thought of functioning without her sometimes put me back into bed for a few days. But with the strength that she gave me I got back out of bed and faced the world without her.
I have done so much in the two months that I have been without Stella. I often wonder how...
How do I get out of bed without Stella?
How do I go back to work without Stella?
How do I laugh without Stella?
The first few days after she passed, while we were still staying at the hotel, while I was showering I would sometimes feel this overwhelming calm. For 30 seconds or so I could breathe, my eyes would dry up, and I felt like someone was hugging me. I told John about this after the second time it happened. I told him that it had to be God telling me that I was going to be okay. Those 30 seconds have turned into hours. The only way I can function is when I am feeling that "hug." When I'm not (which still happens several times a day) I feel like I can't breathe, I can't stop crying, I have this aching pain in my chest and upper arms. I'm not sure that I ever want that feeling to completely go away. That is my reminder that I am living my life without Stella. It's not enough for me to look into the mirror after taking a shower and see the scar where she came out of me. It's not enough that I do not have a car seat in my car, or to walk past her room and know that her crib is stuffed in the closet. It's not enough that the only toys laying around my house are dog toys or that the only two things that wake me up are my alarm or the dogs. The physical pain of losing her is something that I never want to go away. I never want to feel like I can completely function without Stella.
I wonder if God thought that I wouldn't be a good mom - so he took Stella from me. I wonder what horrible thing I could have possibly done to deserve years of infertility, years of aching to be a mom, to hold my baby and to look into her eyes and know that I created such a perfect thing. How could it be that I deserve to have all that taken away from me? Really what did I do? I don't just think, I know that I will be a good mother! There is no doubt in my mind. Maybe God doesn't think so and I guess that's all that matters.
I HATE that people that I don't know look at me and have no idea that I created a perfect angel. I hate that the checkout lady in Walmart doesn't know that I have tears in my eyes because my daughter died. But then at the same time I hate that I am now the person who "lost" her daughter. Like I misplaced her... Is she in the bottom of my purse, or maybe I left her on the kitchen counter? Nope, not there. But you don't want to say that I am the person with a dead daughter. That's not very sensitive, is it? So what do you say? How do you act around me? Do you pretend like everything is normal and the last 8 1/2 months didn't really happen? Or do you nervously ask me how I'm doing and tell me how strong I am for even being able to leave the house?
You think that you don't know how to act. Holy shit, I don't know how to act! I think... will it be weird if I just interject and start talking about Stella because that's all I really want to do? Well, what if I just want a break from talking and I want someone else to do the talking, how do I tell you that? Is it okay to talk about "when I was pregnant" like it was a normal pregnancy and I am a mom with a baby? What about when I just really can't take it, I have to go home, I just want to cry - how are you going to react? That's what I spend my time thinking about. I wonder, does everyone who knows about Stella look at me, cock their head to the side and think "aww, that's Shanna. Her daughter died."?? Or have you forgotten already and think "Oh yes, Shanna did go through something awful, but she is dressed, has makeup on, and is even smiling so everything should be okay by now. We can all move on and the sadness is now over." ?? Well, let me be the one to tell you that it just doesn't work that way. I will always be Shanna, the friend, the daughter, the niece, the wife of John who lost the most precious, most important thing in her life - her five day old baby girl Stella.
I walked into my house in Murray, KY without Stella. John carried in her things - stuffed animals, clothes, blankets, cards, flowers, and much more. But we never carried Stella into the house. I didn't leave the bedroom for days. John brought me coffee and cereal in the morning and dinner at night. I mostly slept through lunch with help from the pain pill I was given for my C-Section. When I finally walked out of the bedroom a few days later I walked into a house that Stella did not live in. The days came and went without Stella. I started taking showers and brushing my teeth. I started riding in the car with John to go places. I didn't get out of the car at first, but at least I left the house.
I started going to lunch with friends. A mere three weeks earlier I had given birth, but I went to lunch without Stella. I started to function without Stella. The thought of functioning without her sometimes put me back into bed for a few days. But with the strength that she gave me I got back out of bed and faced the world without her.
I have done so much in the two months that I have been without Stella. I often wonder how...
How do I get out of bed without Stella?
How do I go back to work without Stella?
How do I laugh without Stella?
The first few days after she passed, while we were still staying at the hotel, while I was showering I would sometimes feel this overwhelming calm. For 30 seconds or so I could breathe, my eyes would dry up, and I felt like someone was hugging me. I told John about this after the second time it happened. I told him that it had to be God telling me that I was going to be okay. Those 30 seconds have turned into hours. The only way I can function is when I am feeling that "hug." When I'm not (which still happens several times a day) I feel like I can't breathe, I can't stop crying, I have this aching pain in my chest and upper arms. I'm not sure that I ever want that feeling to completely go away. That is my reminder that I am living my life without Stella. It's not enough for me to look into the mirror after taking a shower and see the scar where she came out of me. It's not enough that I do not have a car seat in my car, or to walk past her room and know that her crib is stuffed in the closet. It's not enough that the only toys laying around my house are dog toys or that the only two things that wake me up are my alarm or the dogs. The physical pain of losing her is something that I never want to go away. I never want to feel like I can completely function without Stella.
I wonder if God thought that I wouldn't be a good mom - so he took Stella from me. I wonder what horrible thing I could have possibly done to deserve years of infertility, years of aching to be a mom, to hold my baby and to look into her eyes and know that I created such a perfect thing. How could it be that I deserve to have all that taken away from me? Really what did I do? I don't just think, I know that I will be a good mother! There is no doubt in my mind. Maybe God doesn't think so and I guess that's all that matters.
I HATE that people that I don't know look at me and have no idea that I created a perfect angel. I hate that the checkout lady in Walmart doesn't know that I have tears in my eyes because my daughter died. But then at the same time I hate that I am now the person who "lost" her daughter. Like I misplaced her... Is she in the bottom of my purse, or maybe I left her on the kitchen counter? Nope, not there. But you don't want to say that I am the person with a dead daughter. That's not very sensitive, is it? So what do you say? How do you act around me? Do you pretend like everything is normal and the last 8 1/2 months didn't really happen? Or do you nervously ask me how I'm doing and tell me how strong I am for even being able to leave the house?
You think that you don't know how to act. Holy shit, I don't know how to act! I think... will it be weird if I just interject and start talking about Stella because that's all I really want to do? Well, what if I just want a break from talking and I want someone else to do the talking, how do I tell you that? Is it okay to talk about "when I was pregnant" like it was a normal pregnancy and I am a mom with a baby? What about when I just really can't take it, I have to go home, I just want to cry - how are you going to react? That's what I spend my time thinking about. I wonder, does everyone who knows about Stella look at me, cock their head to the side and think "aww, that's Shanna. Her daughter died."?? Or have you forgotten already and think "Oh yes, Shanna did go through something awful, but she is dressed, has makeup on, and is even smiling so everything should be okay by now. We can all move on and the sadness is now over." ?? Well, let me be the one to tell you that it just doesn't work that way. I will always be Shanna, the friend, the daughter, the niece, the wife of John who lost the most precious, most important thing in her life - her five day old baby girl Stella.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
For my girl
My beautiful Stella Mae is one month old today.
I wish that I would be taking pictures holding her to commemorate this occasion. She would be dressed in a pretty pink dress with a big pink or white flower headband on. I may even be wearing a matching pink shirt. Instead after a long drive back to Kentucky from Pennsylvania we opened several more sympathy cards. I've snapped at John (more than once) for no reason other than I'm unable to appropriately express emotions. And I'm now sitting on our bed crying and writing a blog entry. This is NOT the way things are supposed to be!!
Saturday (February 26, 2011) we held the service for Stella in Greensburg, PA. Close to 100 friends and family showed up to celebrate Stella's short life with us, in the church that I grew up in and John and I were married in. It was truly amazing to see so many people there. After the service, many people whispered into my ear "you are so strong", "beautiful eulogy", "that must have taken so much courage", and even one of John's friends proclaimed "you are the strongest person I know." The truth is... I was not able to get up and read my eulogy because I'm strong or courageous. I got up in front of all of our friends and family because that is what you do when you are a mother. Did I have a choice? Was I really going to sit there and not say anything to all of these special people, who came to mourn with us, who came to celebrate with us, who came to support us? I saw getting up and reading my eulogy as MY JOB AS A MOTHER. It really was as simple as that.
For those of you were not at either service to hear my eulogy
I thought I would include it here:
As you all could imagine, calling this a "difficult time" is a serious understatement! No one ever expects to have to bury a child, let alone a newborn - yet it does happen. But to us... did it really happen to us? Sometimes I wake up and think: it was all a dream, then I look down and see that my stomach is no longer round, I don't feel those little flutters of life, the nursery is empty and I know that it wasn't a dream but a living nightmare.
We tried for three long years to conceive Stella, so you could imagine our excitement when we finally did! However, the excitement was almost immediately overtaken by worry and anxiety. I had several early complications with the pregnancy. Even though I was running in and out of my doctors office almost every other day, John and I still found joy and excitement through all the worry. We were able to bond with Stella and really form a connection with this little person who was slowly developing inside me. Every Monday night we read from "What to Expect when you are expecting" so that we knew exactly what our little Peanut was up to in there. We found it so fascinating that fingerprints develop from the baby moving their hands around in the amniotic fluid or that her little fingernails were already growing. My happiest memories during those five months were of John and I laying in bed, with my stomach exposed, talking, reading, or playing music for our girl. One time we were a little tired of reading children's books and our doctor told us that we could read anything we wanted to her, it's not like she knew what we were saying she only recognized our voices. So John opened up the computer, pulled up Pensblog and read the recap of the Pittsburgh Penguins hockey game to Stella. I'm not sure if she heard anything because I think I laughed the whole time.
Stella and I also had our time alone - two hours each day, my commute to work and then back home. I spent much of this time talking to Stella about anything and everything. I felt like she knew this was our special time. We also listened to music and sang. I was much happier riding to work everyday as soon as I found out that I had this special partner.
As soon as we found out how serious Stella's condition was my motherly determination kicked into high gear. There was NO way that we were not saving our girl. We were going to do everything that it took to get her here safe and sound. The doctors, nurses, and staff at Norton hospital were amazing and truly sent to us from God. Each one of the nurses told me about the many miracles that they had seen at the hospital. They gave me hope. Each night when my doctor made his rounds he reminded me of the seriousness of Stella's condition but then he would always remind us to pray because miracles do happen. Praying is one thing we never forgot to do. John and I prayed from the moment we got up to the moment before I feel asleep in my hospital bed. The prayers were coming from all around us as well. From the lovely nurses that took care of me to our friends and family to complete strangers who had heard about our struggle and were following our story on Stella's blog. John and I felt overwhelmed with love and support.
The two weeks that I spent on hospital bedrest were filled with so many emotions: excitement, when we heard her on the monitor twice a day. Sadness, for the seriousness of her condition. Anxiety, for the unknown. Loneliness, being so far from our family. John and I's ability to lean on each other and to lean on God is what got us through those two weeks. In addition, our determination as parents to do what we needed to do for Stella provided us with the strength we needed to get out of bed and keep going.
The day that Stella's neonatologist walked into my room and told me that he was going to recommend to my doctor that I deliver Stella asap, was the scariest day of my life. We had no idea what to expect. There was a possibility that Stella would be too small to intubate, in which case there would have been nothing that they could have done. We had no idea how developed her little lungs would be. There was just so much unknown. One thing that we held strong to was the belief that she would fight... boy were we right!
Stella came out kicking and surprised everyone. She was a little 12 ouncer who would not let the doctor put in her IVs, who routinely pulled off her temperature monitor, and who would wave her little hand in the air when she wanted a finger to grab onto. My daughter was a STAR! Doctors and nurses from all over Norton Hospital came to visit the 12 ounce baby who was doing so well. Stella had five amazing days of life, filled with hope and determination.
Stella was beautiful. She had perfectly developed features, the most beautiful little nose (that looked just like my mom's), tiny little ears, and the sweetest lips. For only being 26weeks, she had a full head of dark hair. Stella had a spunky little personality that cause each one of her nurses and doctors to fall in love with her right along with her parents. She was a lucky little girl to have so many who loved her - even those who never met her.
When I think back in my life I can not think of a more peaceful time than when I was sitting on the recliner in Stella's room just looking at my beautiful daughter. It was so amazing to me to watch this little tiny being, who was supposed to still be inside me, fight so hard to stay alive. I felt truly peaceful when I was with my daughter.
I'm not sure that I will ever, ever be more proud of anyone in my life. Every time I talk about my daughter I feel the need to tell people how strong and how hard she fought. I can't wait to tell our future children about Stella's fight. And when I feel that I can't make it without her - I think about her fight and how she never gave up. My strength comes from God, I receive strength from John too... but when I've lost all hope and the world seems too overwhelming, I gather all the strength and fight that Stella had in her and I use it to face the day.
My amazing friend Lydia sent me this book while I was in the hospital, called "Acceptance The way to serenity and peace of mind". I found this quote in there: "You live only a split second at a time; that's right this minute. You can think of only one thing at a time, do only one thing at a time; you actually live only one breath at a time. Stop living for a tomorrow that may never come, and start living one day at a time-today. Plan for tomorrow, but live only till bedtime tonight... This you can handle-at least today."
Living without Stella has proved to be the hardest thing that I have ever had to do... and I have to keep doing this horribly hard thing until the day I die. So I try to take it minute by minute, day by day. Just today I have to live without Stella - I can't think any farther than that.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
A new normal
"You will need to find your new normal" - is what I keep being told. I'm not sure that "new normal" even begins to describe what we need to find. I know that I need to find peace, happiness, and a way to continue my life without my daughter.
I may not have written on the blog for a while, but I have been doing a lot of writing. I wrote and then bravely read a eulogy for Stella at the memorial service for her last night. I wrote our story and then submitted it to Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope (www.facesofloss.com). And I have been writing a lot on Facebook. I've been updating my status, trying to return emails, and commenting on posts and friends' pages. But I don't want to stop blogging! Stella's journey did not end with her passing. John and I have a duty to our angel to keep moving forward and to live our lives for Stella.
I feel overwhelmed by the love and support that John and I have received. I know I've said that before and I'm sure I'll say it again. You can not do something like this alone. Even though as long as we have each other, John and I are never alone... you need more than one person to lean on when you are grieving. It's been difficult to talk on the phone, but the support that I've gotten from texts, emails, and Facebook is unbelievable! Many people keep telling me how strong I am. When you are laying in bed at 3pm, haven't brushed your teeth yet, and haven't showered in two days, you do not feel very strong. But I do feel fortunate that I am not plagued with a barrage of negative emotions along with my sadness. Emotions like anger, regret, or guilt. I think the absence of these negative emotions have given me the ability to attempt to find my "new normal."
Strength has never been something that I have believed that I have. I just do! Especially now, I just do. I get up and walk down the street because I can't stand to look at the walls in my bedroom any more. I go to Walmart with John because I know that I need to eventually get used to being around people . I get up in front of my colleagues, John's colleagues, and our friends to eulogize my beautiful baby girl because I know how much I would regret it if I didn't. I don't think about being strong, I think about surviving and living for Stella.
Speaking of surviving... I survived the Kentucky memorial service. I'm now about 99.9% positive that I will survive the Pennsylvania memorial service. I plan to read my eulogy again on Saturday, as I feel that my friends and family who will be attending that service deserve to hear about my amazing Stella. I'll be nervous and I'll need to do a lot of praying to even get me up and in front of everyone, but I'll do it... for my Stella.
I may not have written on the blog for a while, but I have been doing a lot of writing. I wrote and then bravely read a eulogy for Stella at the memorial service for her last night. I wrote our story and then submitted it to Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope (www.facesofloss.com). And I have been writing a lot on Facebook. I've been updating my status, trying to return emails, and commenting on posts and friends' pages. But I don't want to stop blogging! Stella's journey did not end with her passing. John and I have a duty to our angel to keep moving forward and to live our lives for Stella.
I feel overwhelmed by the love and support that John and I have received. I know I've said that before and I'm sure I'll say it again. You can not do something like this alone. Even though as long as we have each other, John and I are never alone... you need more than one person to lean on when you are grieving. It's been difficult to talk on the phone, but the support that I've gotten from texts, emails, and Facebook is unbelievable! Many people keep telling me how strong I am. When you are laying in bed at 3pm, haven't brushed your teeth yet, and haven't showered in two days, you do not feel very strong. But I do feel fortunate that I am not plagued with a barrage of negative emotions along with my sadness. Emotions like anger, regret, or guilt. I think the absence of these negative emotions have given me the ability to attempt to find my "new normal."
Strength has never been something that I have believed that I have. I just do! Especially now, I just do. I get up and walk down the street because I can't stand to look at the walls in my bedroom any more. I go to Walmart with John because I know that I need to eventually get used to being around people . I get up in front of my colleagues, John's colleagues, and our friends to eulogize my beautiful baby girl because I know how much I would regret it if I didn't. I don't think about being strong, I think about surviving and living for Stella.
Speaking of surviving... I survived the Kentucky memorial service. I'm now about 99.9% positive that I will survive the Pennsylvania memorial service. I plan to read my eulogy again on Saturday, as I feel that my friends and family who will be attending that service deserve to hear about my amazing Stella. I'll be nervous and I'll need to do a lot of praying to even get me up and in front of everyone, but I'll do it... for my Stella.
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