The Best Worst Day Of My Life.. Part Three..

To say that the next few weeks are challenging is a vast understatement. Here I am wrecked with the reality that I will never see, know, or hold my precious baby; yet I have to go through all of the motions as if I had.. I loathe having to use the restroom, loathe it.. It is a bright, heartless reminder that I have lost my baby.. I dread having to hear the open and close clack of that gleaming white, uncaring, wooden bathroom door and try my best to avoid it as much as possible, even though this proves painful.. As much as I don't want to look, I always do - I have to.. How else will I know when this is over??.. Every pee-break is a time of quiet isolation as it is always ended with back against the wall sliding to the floor that is interrupted only by bent knees that seem to help keep me from crumbling into pieces onto the floor.. Fists greet the ground with great vigor.. Tears - always tears - the kind that seem to come from so incredibly deep a place within that they overpower your eyes and burst out from your soul uncontrollably - the kind that cause your face and neck to burn and in turn, cause your nose and mouth to overcompensate.. I'm a mess.. A face in hands frustrated mess.. These are my moments.. My midday moments to mourn. Having three kids, one usually always ends up following me to the bathroom to wait patiently for me outside the door while happily sifting through my many hair adornments, jewelry, or cosmetics (child dependent), I know that I have to hide this agony, my inevitable reaction. Trying to keep quiet my pain is difficult. A few times, I have had to quiet myself by placing my own hand over my mouth.. but a few sobs or gasps of sorrow do escape, occasionally. No one seemed to notice, though.. And that is the thing: No one seems to notice..

I am very, very good at presenting my usually positive self when necessary even while my heart is gripped with sadness.. My face may be smiling and my words filled with life and laughter, but I still struggle within. It's a rarity for anyone to actually SEE me really cry.. Cry in a way as to represent my own personal heart ache. This is something I reserve for a very select few. At times, I am disheartened that no one notices.. Other times, I am glad they don't.. This is a confusing time for me. I'm not sure of how to react or of what I want or of what I need. After the kids have gone to bed, I think I need a drink..

I open my beloved olive green, antique liquor cabinet that used to be a huge old fashioned radio that is now gutted.. The happy times that have probably been had around this old thing, I think to myself. I decide on a nice bottle of wine, a dry red cabernet that I love. As I reach for that bottle, my eyes flash to the glistening crystal decanters that house the scotch and whiskey; but my hand still falls upon the wine.. All I need is a glass of wine.. My huge wine goblet is filled to the brim.. I look at it.. I watch it.. I'm staring now.. My thoughts are blank.. but the reality is that I know when my lips meet this wine, I will again be reminded that I am no longer carrying my child within.. Salty tears engage my senses first, I wipe them away.. I shake myself.. Get a grip! It's just a glass of wine.. You obviously NEED it!.. Oh great.. I'm talking to myself.. Awesome. I take the wine in hand and drink.. I sob, I drink.. I do not finish this glass on this night.. I feel oddly guilty for having partaken in drinking alcohol.. It's like those dreams that you have when you're pregnant that you drank or smoked a cigarette and wake up feeling guilty even though you know you didn't do it.. But this time, I had.. I still feel that guilt, even though I know it doesn't matter.

The guilt starts to fade and ending the night with a glass of wine or something stronger on the rocks continues.. I'm not sure why I'm even drinking at all.. It's not changing anything and really doesn't affect how I feel... Until, the night I decide to drink socially for the first time since losing our baby.. First time in a LONG time, even before my pregnancy and subsequential loss.. My husband decides that I need to have a night of fun, a break from reality, and tells me to go for it.. So, I do.. And do I ever.. I never thought of myself as depressed - you probably never DO when you slightly are or so clearly are.. Nevertheless, I can look back now and know that I was. Back to that night.. I drank a lot and it was fun; but once I finally realized that I WAS drunk (something I don't like to be..), my delight shifted. I wanted to leave.. so we did. Once home, something that has never happened to me happens. I "time travel" as some people call it.. I don't remember a thing from the time we left our friend's home to the time I wake up. It is a strange feeling waking up and only realizing that I had showered, because I notice my flip flops in the bathtub.. What in the CRAP..??! I'm even wearing pajamas.. How did.. When did.. Did I.. What the hell happened..?! My husband is already awake and in our living room.. I stumble, confused into the room.. I'm not hungover, but I feel weird. Almost, embarrassed.. Yes.. definitely embarrassed. He looks at me and gives me this look that I have never seen before. This look like "Are you my wife?? Has she returned yet??".. I ask what happened.

He proceeds to tell me that I had a great time up and until we got home. That's when things changed.. That's when my great time ended. Was it the house?? The fact that this house reminds me of loss?? Did he say something that set me off?? Did I say something that set me off??.. My mind is racing.. racing for answers.. Answers as to why I flipped a switch and turned myself off.. Apparently, as soon as I walked in the door of our home, I was angry. Angry at him. Who knows why - even he couldn't figure it out.. I became someone that I am so clearly not.. I had never in my life sworn at him or said anything mean or even raised my voice at him.. But not on this night. This night I was livid. I was gone. I had "checked out" and gone to another place far away from reality. I said things that he would not repeat and mumbled other things that he could not understand. He said that I even said that I hated him.. I cannot believe I said that.. (I still can't..). I got sick yet he stayed right there by me through it all, even holding my hair for me as I swore at him and yelled at him in between my bouts with alcohol-induced vomitting.. Classy.. He helped me into the shower where I apparently fell asleep and stayed right there by me to make sure I didn't drown.. I think that I would have let me drown.. He brought me clothes and even helped me into them and then helped me into our bed.. He even stayed awake for a while to make sure that I was okay before allowing himself to fall asleep.. Now, here I am. Embarrassed. In shock. Disbelief is all over my face.. listening to him tell me what I had done.. And I remember NONE of it. I'm just sitting there staring at him.. How is he staying so calm?? How did he stay so calm THEN..?! Did I REALLY do that?? Did I REALLY say those things?? That's when I ask, "Did I really do that?? There's no way that I did that.. Right??" He laughs a little.. I can't believe he's laughing at all! and says, "Yep. You sure did.." Maybe, I don't need a drink!!.. ever again!? I think to myself.. Apology does not begin to describe what I feel I owe him. How did he still love me AND SHOW IT even through THAT. I feel like a jerk.

I had one more experience similar to this a couple months down the road.. I had never believed that someone could drink so much that they actually really DID block out what had happened.. I'm not even sure if I knew what I was doing or saying at the time that I was doing and saying it.. I truly have no recollection AT ALL of these two nights.. It did, however, become apparent that when I drank socially, that some way or another I began to focus on losing our baby whether I verbalized it to anyone else or not.. this caused my drinking to become heavy.. I drank more than I wanted and more than I needed. Once I had my fill, I turned myself off.. and became angry. Once everyone was gone including myself, I was angry. I guess you could say that the anger and grief that I had been holding within chose those times to come to the surface. This surprised me as it was that I am usually fun and full of laughter when I drink and love to make the other people around me laugh as well.. but not anymore. I decided that I wouldn't drink socially and haven't. I still wonder if my reaction would be the same even now, almost a year later.. Who knows?? I don't.

Drinking doesn't and won't help.

Business Trip vs. Deployment...

In this era of digital wonder and online social networking madness, I find myself more than a few times eye-rolling at certain types of “status update” posts.. The ones who post them are never aware of my eye-roll, and I never criticize any said posts.. I just read them and even, sometimes, audibly say: REALLY?!

Here’s one that always seems to amuse me more than irritate.. When a wife or girlfriend or whoever posts about how hard it is or how much they miss their civilian significant other while they’re away on a business trip or something similar for a few days.. I always think to myself: I wonder if they realize how many people might be out there on their “friends list” who have a soldier as a husband or boyfriend (ha ha – “boyfriend” – seems so elementary to say now that I’m fully into adulthood.. hee-hee, ahh.. anyway.. :).. eh hem, as I was saying: I wonder if they realize how many people might be out there on their “friends list” who have a soldier as their significant other..?? Most soldier-having significant other lovers out there in “friend land” have gone through at least one deployment by now or are about to in the near future.. It’s inevitable.. A few days, or even a few weeks, heck a frackin’ month or even a few is far better than the year long stints that we endure.. even with that two week tease that they call “leave” that seems to dissipate all too fast. I know what you’re thinking.. If you’re a fellow soldier-having significant other lover, you’re thinking: Yeah! Right on!!... SO TRUE!!.. If you’re a civilian-having significant other lover, you’re thinking.. (After feeling a little sting of guilt, it is quickly replaced with..): Well, excuse ME for missing my dear, sweet so and so!!..

*Now, just hold on for a few more lines – this isn’t a rant about how foolish I think it is that you miss your so and so.. I miss MY so and so when he is away, too.. This isn’t a superiority contest, either.. :)*

We as military spouses or whoever, most of us anyway, knew what we were getting into when our hearts were stolen away by our military men or women and make no excuses for that.. Yes: It IS just part of the life that comes with loving a military man or woman. Anyone who has watched the news or read a newspaper within the past ten years is fully aware that we are at war, or are pretending not to be but still are, or are about to be with someone..!! I mean, it’s no secret.. And we CHOOSE this life.. and are proud for having done so! At the same time, it still doesn’t seem to make reading those posts any easier.. Now, here’s where I start to sound contradictory of myself..

I think you SHOULD miss your loved one when they’re away any time that they are away.. I know I do. I personally have a very deep connection and bond with my husband and miss him like crazy even when he’s gone for a day!! Seriously, truth be told, I miss him as soon as he walks out that door for a day’s worth of work; whether it be for a few hours or 24HRS, I miss him. Not that I am biased or anything, but I think that’s “normal”.. :) But nothing compares to the heart ache and incredible intensity that I miss him with when he is deployed.. It’s unreal how much it physically hurts to miss someone that much.. The fact that it’s multiplied by about a thousand percent due to the insane amount of stress and worry that always accompanies a deployment makes it even that much more difficult NOT to eye-roll when you read someone’s anguished post about their so and so being gone for a day or two and how they just can’t take it anymore.. : /

I have also encountered the “new to the military” person who goes on and on about their lovey being gone for a few weeks on a training mission that causes EVERY (I don’t care WHO you are – you KNOW you think it..) EVERY experienced spouse or other to say: Ooooh… You think THAT is hard?? Oh, honey, you just WAIT!! (Well, you might not say “honey”, but I do… ;)… SO, this isn’t really a non-military specific issue.. So, where am I going with this?? Do I think that everyone else in the free world has no right to post anything about missing their so and so’s??? No, absolutely NOT.. Post away!!

I just think that everyone should be aware of who might be out there in “friend land” and the situations of others.. This isn’t really a deployment only scenario, either, though it is a good example.. This goes along the same lines with many other topics.. I guess my point is to be AWARE.. I know that it's easier to be aware of certain things when YOU have personally been affected in some way different than that of others, of course, and do not expect everyone to realize EVERYTHING that they should be aware of on every level.. And I’m most likely guilty of some form of eye-roll inducing posting myself – in fact, I’m SURE of it!! Ha!! :).. At the same time, I also don’t think it would be very useful to get angry over any posts that aren’t even anywhere related to YOU specifically, and one would be also be wise not to assume that they ARE specifically directed at you.. I’ve seen THIS a time or two as well which actually induces an even BIGGER eye-roll from me and others.. Let’s not take this stuff personally, people.. It’s just a status update, afterall!!

I guess this is more of dual-ended issue for me, really: Be aware of who may be reading what you write while at the same time being aware when you are the one reading that everyone’s situations ARE different and may not be intentionally trying to annoy or upset you, specifically.

I feel some great words wanting to leave my lips: CAN’T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?! ;)

There. I am done. That is all.. :)

The Best Worst Day Of My Life.. Part Two..

The next few days are a blur.. A blur of sadness, sleeping pills, pain medication, and frustration.. I don’t think I’ll EVER leave my bed. My phone keeps ringing, but I’m not answering.. I don’t want to speak to anyone.. It’s actually probably better if I don’t.. My husband is handling that.. I overhear a few conversations and the stupid things that people say when they think that SOMETHING needs to be said but don’t know what to say.. Some of these things enrage me. My husband takes the brunt of my rage: Yes, we do have three wonderful, healthy children already; but is that supposed to make me want this baby any less?? And is grieving the loss of my child making me any less thankful for the children that I already have?? “So, I guess you’re all sad now..??” REALLY?! Did you REALLY just say that?!.. I know that God has a plan – but I really don’t want to HEAR about His plan right now.. from you. Let Him deliver His plan to me in His own time.. I don’t want or NEED a “messenger”!!.. “At least she wasn’t further along..” Right. At least there’s THAT.. how comforting. “There was obviously something wrong with the baby.. It’s better to have lost it now than to have had a child with disabilities or to lose it after it was born sometime later down the road..” Really, truly, SERIOUSLY?!.. I don’t even have words for how much THIS angered me.. Sometimes, the best thing to say is, simply, that you’re sorry.. sorry for the loss of the child.. sorry for having had to experience such a terrible thing.. sorry that there is nothing that you can do to take the pain away but that you’re here if need be – and want to be.. That is all..

My kids know that something is wrong but don’t know what it is.. They know that Mommy is sad and won’t get out of bed.. They know that Daddy is acting strangely and overtly happy and overcompensating for everything that goes on with them.. They need to know.. It’s time to tell them..

My husband’s grandfather who was very dear to us had recently passed away in January.. Our children had experienced that loss with us and through us and were fully aware of what death was.. We told them stories of heaven and how Papa was in a much, much better place, was no longer sick or in pain, and would always be with us in our hearts and memories.. I decided to use this as my window into their world before telling them.. Here they were.. Three brightly shining smiles with happy faces around them aged six, three, and one sitting atop our bed and very excited to be doing so.. They knew that there was some sort of news for them to hear and were excited to be hearing it.. I began.. I began by bringing up Papa’s death.. Their expressions (minus the one year old) began to change.. Their smiles began to fade.. “You know how Papa went to heaven, right??” I stumbled with my words.. They nodded their heads to say yes .. “Well.. In life, sometimes things happen.. sad things.. and we’re not sure why they happen.. They just do..” Largely round eyes are focused directly on me now.. I continue, “Well.. You know our baby, right..??” Realization begins to set in – their young minds are more perceptive than I had even expected – an acute sense of awareness and visible warmth begins to flush over their faces as tears begin to roll down from my six year old son’s knowing eyes.. My three year old daughter yanks the covers over her head, then buries her face into the bed.. I’m taken back by this.. I hadn’t even told them that we lost the baby yet.. My ability to speak ceases to exist as my son leans into me to be held.. My overwhelmed husband takes over.. His words are also hard to find but he reassures them that everything is going to be alright.. that we love them.. that it’s okay to be sad and to cry.. There are a lot of tears now.. My one year old son isn’t aware of what is going on but is quietly observing and wanting to be held as well.. He knows what sadness is.. My husband continues.. He speaks of heaven and our baby now being in it.. The kids seem worried that the baby is there all by itself – I reassure them that Papa is already there and is taking care of our baby for us.. Papa LOVED babies, so he was the perfect person for our sweet baby to be with now.. They find comfort in this.. I too find comfort in this.. My daughter pops her head up and begins acting silly, full-tooth smiling and making funny noises.. She’s trying to distract everyone from being sad and having tears and is seeking laughter – something that is usually always prevalent in our home.. We let her react however she needs to react.. Our youngest son finds her entertaining.. My oldest son is in my arms and says in between tears, “But I really, really wanted our baby..” I pull him closer and squeeze him tighter. I can feel his tears on my chest.. I know, son.. So did I.. So did I..

As time goes on.. My children take it upon themselves to draw pictures of the baby.. pictures of the baby in heaven, pictures of the baby with them, pictures of our family and what it would have looked like complete. They’re so proud of these drawings and love to show them to me.. And I, in return, love to receive them. I take them and save them.. I have plans to make a memory book for the baby that we had been referring to as “Baby Eberhart”.. And in that, in of itself, is something that greatly began to consume my thoughts: There is no headstone to visit for my sweet baby.. There aren’t any pictures.. I’ll never even know if it was a girl or a boy.. I’m barely “allowed” to have feelings around some of our family who act like nothing ever even happened.. I WANT to remember my baby. My baby DID exist, though the days were numbered. I never want my baby to be forgotten.. I love my baby – I always will..

This became a mild obsession for me.. Finding tangible ways to commemorate and memorialize our baby without suffering the brunt of too much judgment from others.. My thoughts turned to a ficus tree that I had as a child that remained ever present throughout my life. I remembered my mother telling me how they had brought it home around the same time that I was born and that it was as old as I was. This used to fascinate me and made me feel very connected to this tree.. I decided that WE needed a ficus tree.. In it, I would find an ever-present state of being that I could view with my own eyes. I refer to this tree as the “tree of life” and put a white dove on its branches that my husband was given at the time of his Papa’s funeral that had been placed on a floral arrangement with each dove representing a grandchild of Papa’s… this dove being my husband’s. This tree’s home is at our front door. Arriving or leaving, my thoughts are drawn to my baby and Papa when I see it – thoughts that they are both in heaven, together, and that they are both surrounded in peace always greets me. The idea of releasing balloons with notes or pictures drawn attached to them also entered my mind.. one for each one of us with pictures to be taken as they floated off into the blue sky.. These would be my pictures. My pictures to remember my baby. They have an album to fill, afterall.

Grief is one of those things that is open-ended. There is no set format to follow, no allotted time of acceptance (though others would like to set one for you), and shouldn’t be viewed as something that needs to be rushed through or hidden. I will always love my baby. I will always miss my baby. I will always wonder what they would have looked like and been like – I have two amazing examples of the possibility of what may have been in the form of the two sons that I already have both who were conceived in January and both who were born in the month of October which is when this baby was due to be born. As time goes on, I cannot imagine my feelings changing. That’s like saying that I will love my children less and less with every passing year. Sure, I did not have the incredible opportunity to hold this baby in my arms that I so greatly desire even to this day to have had been able to do, but that doesn’t make my love for our baby any less than if I had. I think that I should be allowed this, as I feel that everyone should.

I found that one conversation in particular that I had with a very dear friend of mine who had gone through loss herself to be one of the most influential conversations of this whole experience up to this point. I shared my story with her, and she listened. And we cried together. She began to tell me of her story of loss in a way that we had never discussed before, and we were able to relate to each other’s feelings of the things that had gone on for us, though they were starkly different but the same. It was during this story that I had a number of realizations.. Things that had happened that were much more than just coincidence that I view as Light to my loss. I believe that there are many things that happen around us and in our lives that are signs to reveal to us that there is more out there than we think. I believe in God and believe that He is present – whether or not we see it is left up to us and whether or not we allow ourselves to be open enough to receive it is also left up to us. I have learned throughout my life that everything happens for a reason whether we understand that reason right away or whether it takes a great many number of years for the reason to come to fruition, in all things there is purpose. I have lived such a life that would reflect that notion quite well, the loss of my child being one of them.

How is this? How does losing my child reveal any Light at all? Here is what I found… I found that the timing, in particular, of every single thing that had gone on during my loss to be impeccable. Had my referral to see my doctor not been approved when it was, I would not have had my ultrasound when I did.. Depending on timing had it been earlier I would have possibly seen a live baby then lost it unexpectedly without any sort of warning.. or I could have seen my baby without its heartbeat and been forced to wait much longer than I did to deliver the baby naturally.. As it worked out, I saw my baby without its heart beating within hours of what would be the start of me losing the baby. I feel as if my short prayer said within the depths of my mind in the doctor’s office that day had been answered in that my loss didn’t take a week to begin – it started that night, AFTER my kids had gone to bed.. I found that while waiting for the doctor in the exam room on the day that I delivered my baby while in the deepest materialization of sorrow that I had ever experienced in my life – when my Faith was actually being shaken - to also be the exact same time that I had realized that it was a Christian office to be incredibly profound.. that even the song that was being played spoke so directly to what I was actually going through at that very moment still amazes me. I have no doubt that had the situation been different that God would have revealed Himself in some way to me, but that this was the way that was meant for me, individually, at this time in my life. I was fortunate enough to have a concerned, supportive and caring ultrasound technician, an incredible, compassionate, sensitive doctor and a wonderful, soft-hearted nurse. These things, along with things that happened later and continue to happen even now, is why I refer to that day as the “best worst day of my life”. If I had to lose my child, I cannot imagine any other way of having done so.

Even knowing and realizing all of this, the struggle to come to grips with everything continued...

Thank You.

Thank you. There is something to be said for a person who is able to accept and fully love a child as his own.. even more to love that child the same way that you do your own. There's a special place in heaven for a person who effortlessly ensures that a child never feels want or as if something as essential as a parent is missing from their life. This kind of person is rare at most. Thank you for being this person to my son. Thank you for having the ability to go beyond words and actually sharing doting love without even a hint of favoritism or difference. You're amazing. Thank you for wanting nothing more than to be the one that he runs to and claims as his own. I am overfilled with thanks... Thank you for being present when another is non-existent. Thank you for making him your priority in life. Thank you for allowing him the chance to never know what it's like to not have a father, even more: a Dad. Thank you for making special time for him, just you and him. Thank you for putting him first above yourself. Thank you for taking away my own feelings of guilt and worry for his future and replacing them with ever abundant, unconditional love. Thank you for giving him your last name.

Thank you for being you.

If my heart could cry, it would. If my eyes could laugh with joy, they would. If my smile could dance, it would. If my words could turn into doves and fly to the heavens in thanks of you.. they would.

These things and more have me forever, wholeheartedly, full-forcedly in love with you and always will.. And for this.. I thank you.

Hugh

I love you, Hugh. I was twenty-two when we met. I love that I knew, even then, that there was just something about you that intrigued me in such a way that meeting you would forever change my life.. I love that my first thoughts of you were: Wow. He's tall. He's quiet. I like his hat. Did he just say "Howdy"??!.. I love that you can always make me laugh in any situation. I love that you TRIED to get lost on one of our first dates to spend more time together but couldn't, then decided to just pull over. I love the memories I have of you studying while I painted my "studio". I love that you are the most authentic, honest person I have ever known and consequently, are THE WORST liar! I love that the sound of dial-up reminds me of you. I love that you write me notes and unfinished letters when you are deployed but wait until you're home to give them to me. I love that you are so fully complete in your forgiveness. I love that you insist on replaying a song over and over until you get it right on your harmonica. I love that you play the harmonica. I love the way you smell. I love that you pretend you're playing an atari version video game while driving on long trips, blasting the other passersby. I love that you find any and every excuse to use your power tools: Christmas trees, photo hanging, light bulb changing... I love that you cannot contain your laughter, tho you try. I love that you genuinely ARE a good person. I love your strange knowledge of the classic rock genre. I love (although it really does drive me crazy!) that you constantly quiz me on mine. I love, really really love, thinking about the time you thought you were going to fall off the roof while hanging Christmas lights. I love that you still write love notes to me. I love that you're the worst appologizer in the world. I love that you're fearless. I love that I still get butterflies. I love that you're so moral and unashamed for being so. I love that you are the epitome of integrity. I love that you can read my mind. I love "the look". I love that you can sleep anywhere. I love that you insist I practice my balance by walking on your back. I love your immense intelligence. I love watching you wrestle and play with our kids. I love that you love them so much and that they cherish you in return. I love that our kids admire you. I love that I love you so much. I love thoughts of growing old and wrinkly together. I love that you sing along with the radio. I love your stupid raps. I love that you told me I was beautiful even when I told you not to.. I love the way WE hold hands. I love that just being with you has made me a better person. I love that I WANT to be a better person bc of you. I love that you love me. I love that you convinced me to marry you, bc you just knew that we would be great. I love that you were right.



I love you.



Happy Birthday, Hugh... six days late!