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.