I was watching my husband and our older son today and felt a pang because it made me think of my brother and his youngest son. I thought that there were surely countless times that my brother and my nephew chatted about any number of topics. Conversations that are forever lost because the two people who had them are gone.
I was startled to realize that it's been almost 2 1/2-years since my brother died and 1 1/2-years since my nephew followed his father in death. Can that really be? Was it so long ago?
Time passes so quickly and even very loved members of your family eventually will slip through your memory. You still love them and miss them. Of course you do. It's just that eventually you learn to live without them. And, as much as I hate that I haven't constantly attended the altar of grief. . .life has gone on because that's what life does. It goes on whether you want it to or not.
Sometimes I still feel an ache in my chest. . .a pain that I can only describe as my heart actually breaking. That pain is rare, though blindingly painful when it happens. At one time I felt that pain every second of every day. Words are inadequate to describe that sad, sad time. I never would have believed that there would come a day that I didn't feel the physical pain of grief in addition to the emotional torment it imposed.
Having the benefit of hindsight and the emotional buffer of years passing allows me to look back and realize that I was in a bad place. I know that and I fully recognize it now, but I was unable to see it at the time. My grief didn't just blind me. It strangled me. I was being smothered by it - held down, pushed further than I could have possibly imagined.
Grief is a well - and it is deep. It can seem to go straight to the center of the Earth, it is so damn deep. You find yourself treading water, desperately trying to keep your head up. Trying to pretend that you aren't sinking lower by the moment. Eventually, you stop fighting it. You let go and give yourself to that well. And it begins to drown you. If you're lucky, you hit bottom fast so you can bounce back up. If you're not as lucky, well, you feel smothered just a little longer. Eventually you hit bottom too. You push back up and gasp in the sweetness of life again.
I've sounded the well of grief. I know just how deep it truly is and it's terrifying. Yet, here I stand. I was knocked flat and one day I was back up. I don't know when it happened, it probably happened little by little, but it did happen.
I am present. I am me. I am back.
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Hubs Knows Gallbladders!
I guess that I tend to look back on experiences with rose-colored glasses. Case in point, I've said for years that pregnancy isn't all that tough. I truly only remembered having backaches while pregnant with my son and I only remembered having them in the last trimester.
My hubs used to chuckle and shake his head whenever I'd say that pregnancy wasn't so bad. Yeah, it wasn't bad because I didn't have problems with nausea or vomiting. Otherwise, well, pregnancy can be unpleasant at times. Times like last night. . .
I was semi-reclining in my glider because I was dealing with my progesterone suppositories. I became aware that an intense pain was ramping up in the middle of my chest about an hour or so after dinner. The pain was directly below my sternum and it went straight through my body. It feels like I'm being run through with a sword; the pain goes from my chest through my back. I can hardly catch my breath at the height of the episode and trying to take deep breaths is impossible.
I clutched the arms of my chair and gasped to my husband that I needed some antacids right now. Why antacids? For no other reason than my doctor once told me the pain I described was nothing more than heartburn.
When was I given this information? When I was pregnant with my son. Prior to being told that I was suffering from heartburn, I'd never had acid reflux or heartburn in my entire life so I had no idea what it feels like or what to expect from it.
I've only experienced this pain while pregnant and, oh, how I remember suffering with this pain now! I never had it prior to my pregnancy with my son and last night was the first time I've felt this terrifying sensation since 2008. It was merely an excruciating pain before, but it's terrifying to me now because of the way my brother died. I must confess that there is a part of me, a small part that I desperately try to silence and ignore, that wonders if I may also share his fate and perhaps this pain is my aorta dissecting. Of course, my family knows all too well that I wouldn't be here to write this blog post if that were the true cause of my pain.
The thing that bothers me is that I never have had any burning sensations in the back of my throat or in my chest when I'm experiencing these pains. I've always heard that those acidy feelings are the hallmark symptoms of heartburn and, feeling pretty sure that I do not suffer from heartburn because I don't generally overeat until I'm stuffed, I decided to spend some time getting answers from the doctor. Dr. Google, that is.
I've known some lousy physicians in my life, but Dr. Google is a menace! After spending an hour or so of what could have been quality naptime, I still have no answers and I'm weirded out that there may be something more serious than just dumb ol' heartburn going on in my chest.
Of all the possible answers (some were rare and/or life-threatening), I only came up with two that I think are plausible. It's either something with my gallbladder or. . .wait for it. . .it's heartburn. My hubs suggested that I take my doctor's diagnosis because the location of my pain; he added that the gallbladder isn't located in the middle of your chest. Since I don't know exactly where a gallbladder might be found, I assumed he didn't either. Uh, I guess he knows more about gallbladders than he's ever let on!
Me: You don't know where my gallbladder might be.
Him: I know it's not in the middle of your chest! It's next to your liver so it's on the right.
Me: Maybe my liver has migrated?
Him: Your liver hasn't gone anywhere and it's not in the middle of your chest.
Me: You don't know where my liver might be! You're not a doctor!
Him: Neither is Dr. Google! (Yeah, he totally missed his opportunity to point out that I am also not a doctor)
It pains me to admit this (but thankfully I'm not in pain at the moment!), but hubs was right and I was wrong. Naturally, I consulted with Dr. Google after the exchange in which I revealed my gross lack of knowledge on human anatomy. Dr. Google told me that hubs was right about all of it.
I'm sooo glad that I had this conversation with hubs instead of my doctor because the only thing worse than looking like a dumbass is paying for the privilege to look like one. Besides, my doctor already thinks I'm a horndog so I don't want him thinking I'm an idiot too!
My hubs used to chuckle and shake his head whenever I'd say that pregnancy wasn't so bad. Yeah, it wasn't bad because I didn't have problems with nausea or vomiting. Otherwise, well, pregnancy can be unpleasant at times. Times like last night. . .
I was semi-reclining in my glider because I was dealing with my progesterone suppositories. I became aware that an intense pain was ramping up in the middle of my chest about an hour or so after dinner. The pain was directly below my sternum and it went straight through my body. It feels like I'm being run through with a sword; the pain goes from my chest through my back. I can hardly catch my breath at the height of the episode and trying to take deep breaths is impossible.
I clutched the arms of my chair and gasped to my husband that I needed some antacids right now. Why antacids? For no other reason than my doctor once told me the pain I described was nothing more than heartburn.
When was I given this information? When I was pregnant with my son. Prior to being told that I was suffering from heartburn, I'd never had acid reflux or heartburn in my entire life so I had no idea what it feels like or what to expect from it.
I've only experienced this pain while pregnant and, oh, how I remember suffering with this pain now! I never had it prior to my pregnancy with my son and last night was the first time I've felt this terrifying sensation since 2008. It was merely an excruciating pain before, but it's terrifying to me now because of the way my brother died. I must confess that there is a part of me, a small part that I desperately try to silence and ignore, that wonders if I may also share his fate and perhaps this pain is my aorta dissecting. Of course, my family knows all too well that I wouldn't be here to write this blog post if that were the true cause of my pain.
The thing that bothers me is that I never have had any burning sensations in the back of my throat or in my chest when I'm experiencing these pains. I've always heard that those acidy feelings are the hallmark symptoms of heartburn and, feeling pretty sure that I do not suffer from heartburn because I don't generally overeat until I'm stuffed, I decided to spend some time getting answers from the doctor. Dr. Google, that is.
I've known some lousy physicians in my life, but Dr. Google is a menace! After spending an hour or so of what could have been quality naptime, I still have no answers and I'm weirded out that there may be something more serious than just dumb ol' heartburn going on in my chest.
Of all the possible answers (some were rare and/or life-threatening), I only came up with two that I think are plausible. It's either something with my gallbladder or. . .wait for it. . .it's heartburn. My hubs suggested that I take my doctor's diagnosis because the location of my pain; he added that the gallbladder isn't located in the middle of your chest. Since I don't know exactly where a gallbladder might be found, I assumed he didn't either. Uh, I guess he knows more about gallbladders than he's ever let on!
Me: You don't know where my gallbladder might be.
Him: I know it's not in the middle of your chest! It's next to your liver so it's on the right.
Me: Maybe my liver has migrated?
Him: Your liver hasn't gone anywhere and it's not in the middle of your chest.
Me: You don't know where my liver might be! You're not a doctor!
Him: Neither is Dr. Google! (Yeah, he totally missed his opportunity to point out that I am also not a doctor)
It pains me to admit this (but thankfully I'm not in pain at the moment!), but hubs was right and I was wrong. Naturally, I consulted with Dr. Google after the exchange in which I revealed my gross lack of knowledge on human anatomy. Dr. Google told me that hubs was right about all of it.
I'm sooo glad that I had this conversation with hubs instead of my doctor because the only thing worse than looking like a dumbass is paying for the privilege to look like one. Besides, my doctor already thinks I'm a horndog so I don't want him thinking I'm an idiot too!
Monday, April 11, 2011
When Do You Quit?
I'm forced to maintain some anonymity here, but understand that I am not talking about my relationship with my husband.
Have you ever been in a relationship in which you can't trust the other person? I like honesty and it's aggravating when others aren't truthful with me because I'd rather not wonder if I can take what someone says at face value. I kinda feel like I shouldn't bother trying if I can't rely on them or believe in them.
At what point do you simply throw up your arms in frustration and give up on having a relationship with someone?
Have you ever been in a relationship in which you can't trust the other person? I like honesty and it's aggravating when others aren't truthful with me because I'd rather not wonder if I can take what someone says at face value. I kinda feel like I shouldn't bother trying if I can't rely on them or believe in them.
At what point do you simply throw up your arms in frustration and give up on having a relationship with someone?
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Lazy Hazy Dayz
I should have written this prior to taking my pain meds, but I just remembered that I didn't write a post today so I'm writing this now. Sorry if this one sucks tonight. If it doesn't suck, it's because I'm awesome. If it does suck, it's because the pills make me suck.
I hate taking pain medication. I really freaking hate it. Well, that's not entirely true because I guess I'm okay with most OTC pain relievers. Not all of them, but most of them. I do spaz out though when I'm taking acetaminophen (Tylenol) because it can be so damaging to your liver. Let's be real here, I prefer to damage my liver in a much more fun fashion. You know, in a way that involves vodka straight from the freezer with a couple of olives thrown in for good measure.
I do hate feeling like I HAVE to take the big guns of pain relief. It's like I hate feeling like I NEED something to feel an absence of pain. I don't particularly like feeling pain either so I'm kinda screwed in situations like these. I can either suffer and remain in control mentally or feel good but act stupid and dull.
I guess this is the third day that I've been taking "viconol." I say I guess because I would have bet money that it was only two days, but as one would probably expect, I write down exactly when I take meds and how much I take. Yeah, I know I'm a little obsessive about stuff sometimes. My notes indicate that i have been taking these damn pills for three days so I guess it's been three days.
I think I tried to resume a normal-ish schedule a little too soon because I didn't experience much pain relief yesterday and I had some yucky stuff happen too. Out of necessity I also ended up off my dosing schedule and was hours late on one dose so perhaps that's part of why I hurt much of the day yesterday.
I spent the day lazing about today and feeling like I'm in a bit of a fog. That might sound nice, but I don't like sitting still and spacing out. But some of the grossness eased up a bit so I guess it was necessary. I don't want to explain the yuckiness because it's pretty damn gross. I've really had my fill of freaky shit lately.
Speaking of such things, I also don't care for the side effects that I experience when I take most pain meds. I know I sound like I'm 65-years old, but you have no idea how much you rely on being regular (whether it's every other day, every day, or whatever) until you just can't go. Of course, I've had my fill of "pushing" lately too so I really don't want to try to go either, but still.
My stomach is beginning to hurt and I've had the enema suggestion, but I'm really not ready to get that drastic. Perhaps a little old people breakfast powder is in order at this point because when I'm able to eat I've been trying to stick with high fiber foods. Of course, I'm also trying to stick with high iron foods with further aggravates constipation. I have a package of knock-off Correctol (bisacodyl), but it expired a couple of months ago and I'm concerned about taking an expired laxative.
Bodies are gross. I could never work in health care because I'm creeped out by a lot of natural stuff, but I sure appreciate that there are people who are in that industry. I had a point here, but I can't quite get what I'm trying for so I think I'm done for the night.
I feel like I've been out of touch with the world, but hope Earth is still safely spinning because it would suck if we lost gravity. Actually, is that gravity that keeps the Earth floating around in space? Eh, whatever, I'm a chick, science isn't my bag.
I hate taking pain medication. I really freaking hate it. Well, that's not entirely true because I guess I'm okay with most OTC pain relievers. Not all of them, but most of them. I do spaz out though when I'm taking acetaminophen (Tylenol) because it can be so damaging to your liver. Let's be real here, I prefer to damage my liver in a much more fun fashion. You know, in a way that involves vodka straight from the freezer with a couple of olives thrown in for good measure.
I do hate feeling like I HAVE to take the big guns of pain relief. It's like I hate feeling like I NEED something to feel an absence of pain. I don't particularly like feeling pain either so I'm kinda screwed in situations like these. I can either suffer and remain in control mentally or feel good but act stupid and dull.
I guess this is the third day that I've been taking "viconol." I say I guess because I would have bet money that it was only two days, but as one would probably expect, I write down exactly when I take meds and how much I take. Yeah, I know I'm a little obsessive about stuff sometimes. My notes indicate that i have been taking these damn pills for three days so I guess it's been three days.
I think I tried to resume a normal-ish schedule a little too soon because I didn't experience much pain relief yesterday and I had some yucky stuff happen too. Out of necessity I also ended up off my dosing schedule and was hours late on one dose so perhaps that's part of why I hurt much of the day yesterday.
I spent the day lazing about today and feeling like I'm in a bit of a fog. That might sound nice, but I don't like sitting still and spacing out. But some of the grossness eased up a bit so I guess it was necessary. I don't want to explain the yuckiness because it's pretty damn gross. I've really had my fill of freaky shit lately.
Speaking of such things, I also don't care for the side effects that I experience when I take most pain meds. I know I sound like I'm 65-years old, but you have no idea how much you rely on being regular (whether it's every other day, every day, or whatever) until you just can't go. Of course, I've had my fill of "pushing" lately too so I really don't want to try to go either, but still.
My stomach is beginning to hurt and I've had the enema suggestion, but I'm really not ready to get that drastic. Perhaps a little old people breakfast powder is in order at this point because when I'm able to eat I've been trying to stick with high fiber foods. Of course, I'm also trying to stick with high iron foods with further aggravates constipation. I have a package of knock-off Correctol (bisacodyl), but it expired a couple of months ago and I'm concerned about taking an expired laxative.
Bodies are gross. I could never work in health care because I'm creeped out by a lot of natural stuff, but I sure appreciate that there are people who are in that industry. I had a point here, but I can't quite get what I'm trying for so I think I'm done for the night.
I feel like I've been out of touch with the world, but hope Earth is still safely spinning because it would suck if we lost gravity. Actually, is that gravity that keeps the Earth floating around in space? Eh, whatever, I'm a chick, science isn't my bag.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Third ER Trip in Two Months
The title says it all, but here it is again in case you missed all the excitement: I had yet another trip to the ER yesterday. That brings the final count to three ER trips in less than two months for one pregnancy. I should add that I have only once before been in an ER in my entire 35-years.
I can also say that I've had my first ride in an ambulance. For the record, I don't recommend it. It's not that the paramedics weren't great because I couldn't have asked for better first responders. It's that I was in so much agony that I actually felt the need to get an ambulance to deliver me to the hospital. I could not have made it by riding shotgun in my hubby's car. I couldn't even sit up or stand, let alone walk to a car.
So what happened? Here's the story with all the gory details. There isn't really any gore though so don't be afraid to continue reading.
I began to bleed a little late Tuesday evening. I'll spare you the sexy details, but let's just say that it probably wasn't too smart to ignore certain restrictions that I ignored. The bleeding never increased and it was only enough to justify wearing a liner so it wasn't a big deal.
I woke up yesterday with more back pain than what I've been experiencing for the last several days. Along with the back pain came stomach cramps. Since I'm the Queen of Denial, I figured that something I'd eaten was proving difficult to digest.
I packed up the kiddo and went to a park playdate with friends for a few hours. My back really started to bother me while we were at the park, but I tried to keep my mind off the pain by chatting with friends and having a good laugh over our kids splishing and splashing in puddles. At some point, maybe around noon, I noticed that the cramps were getting stronger. Still wasn't enough pain to worry about though.
My son and I arrived home around 1:30 yesterday afternoon. I realized that I was experiencing fairly strong pain once I'd left my friends and lost my distractions. It wasn't enough to want to take anything for pain management, but it definitely was getting my attention. I put my son down for a nap and I went to lie down on my own bed because I just wasn't feeling well.
I don't suffer menstrual cramps and I have never experienced labor. If you have felt labor, you probably know what was happening. I sure as heck did not.
I had a D&C scheduled for today, but my body had other plans and finally started the process to begin to release the baby. Everything I've read and heard indicates that a completed miscarriage feels like strong menstrual pain. That sounds perfectly acceptable, right? The problem is that I don't suffer from period pain (I just bleed a lot and often) so I was TOTALLY UNPREPARED for how quickly the pain went from 0 to 60 and just how painful it can be. No wonder some women are totally crippled by their cycles! Those of you who suffer painful periods have my complete sympathy.
I started a text-a-thon with a couple of friends; one who has had a natural miscarriage at the same gestational point and one who is a natural childbirth instructor. Both offered much-needed support and fantastically wonderful advice on how to manage the pain and what to expect. Since I was supposed to have the D&C today, I couldn't really take anything so I had to rely upon natural pain relief methods and distraction.
I was quiet so as not to wake my son, but I asked my husband home around 3:00 because the pain was clearly intensifying and I knew that I could not handle caring for my son while trying to handle this event. I tried to remember to stay hydrated with water and even ate an egg sandwich that my husband thoughtfully prepared for me when he arrived home.
Things were fine, relatively speaking, until around 4:00 or so. That's when I began to dry-heave and felt like I might have diarrhea. I contacted my OB around 4:40 and he responded to my message within five minutes. I think he's the best physician I have ever had; he's certainly the kindest and most responsive. He indicated that everything sounded normal, but that I should feel free to take Tylenol or the Norco, which is Vicodin w/ Tylenol (weird name, huh?), that I picked up at the pharmacy the day before.
Those of you who know me surely know that I do not take pills for no reason. I think there is some value in letting pain run it's course. I was trying every single suggestion for natural pain relief and I can say that distraction only goes so far. I first found myself whimpering through the cramping and, as they intensified, I ended up moaning into my pillow while trying to relax.
I took one Norco at 5:00 and it afforded me about 90 minutes of reasonable pain relief. It did not remove the pain by any stretch, but it did make it somewhat more bearable for a period of time. There reached a point where all I could think about was the pain and when it would hit again. The contractions (if you will) brought me to my knees if I was standing or made me writhe around on my bed if I was lying down. I figured this was normal and tried to muster on.
Then I began violently shaking and vomiting. That was followed by cold sweats and then hot sweats. I wasn't merely trembling, I was SHAKING. I was shaking so badly that I could no longer stand or sit up on my own. I became lightheaded and the room began spinning more than once. I've never fainted before and I suppose this is when I began to feel frightened that something was really going wrong with this miscarriage.
I screamed out for my husband to help me. I felt like my insides were trying to get to the outside and I was sitting on the toilet to hasten the process. Besides a tremendous amount of vomit, nothing happened. Nothing. There was some sticky, almost mucousy, blood and several small clots. That was it.
I suddenly felt better wondered aloud if it was over. My husband looked and reported that there was nothing in the toilet. My reprieve lasted probably less than a minute and I became violently ill all over again. There was nothing in my digestive system at this point, but I continued to vomit up stomach acid that burned all the way out my throat and even out through my nose. I started crying and begging for help.
My husband wanted to drive me to the hospital, but I could not handle the idea of the drive (even though it's like 3 miles from our house) or the eons-long wait to be treated. He suggested an ambulance and I brushed off the idea. He continued to carry/drag me back and forth from the bed to the toilet.
The only thing that appeared to be happening was that I began to freak out more and more with each contraction. I thought that I was only moaning through the pain, but my husband told me later that I was crying out loudly enough (screaming really) that I frightened our son. I regret that I couldn't keep better control and that I caused my little boy so much distress. I had no idea that I was having such a massive freak-out and wish now that I'd gone to the hospital when my husband first suggested the idea.
It finally got so bad that we called an ambulance (waaah-mbulance was more like it) to take me to the hospital. I think I had every single awful and uncomfortable symptom: back pain, major contracting, vomiting, diarrhea, cold sweats, hot sweats, weakness, lightheadedness, hyperventilation - basically if it's gross or sucky, it happened. The paramedics (I learned later that the FD showed up too) were at my house in what seemed like only a minute. My blood pressure was high and I was over-oxygenated because I had apparently been hyperventilating for an extended period of time.
They were all incredibly helpful, but the paramedic who looked like Dr. Drew was really helpful at getting me to calm the heck down. He must have repeated that my panic was only serving to increase the pain at least 1,001 times. When my eyes wildly darted around, he'd remind me to look at him and take low and slow breaths. When I'd clench up, he'd remind me to take control of my body and try to relax. When I began crying about the pain, he'd ask me to tell him about the happiest place I've been. No, the happiest place on Earth wasn't Disneyland. It was a quiet beach on Kauai and I kept trying to visualize a palm tree.
I lost my pants at some point so I was wheeled out of my house wearing a blanket from the ambulance. I'm not ashamed of my body, but I would have misgivings about six strange men seeing me nude from the waist down with my legs flailing this way and that. As I memorably said on one occasion, I just wouldn't do split beaver shots these days. You know, I did not care about modesty at that point. I remained unconcerned about my lack of clothing until I was getting ready to be discharged from the hospital.
So they took me to the ER and, I guess since I arrived in an ambulance, I jumped the line of people in the waiting room. Hubs told me the waiting room was PACKED when he got there so I'm thankful that I didn't have to wait for treatment. I don't know what that privilege is going to cost, but that's one bill I will happily pay without complaint because it was worth it. Okay, okay, my husband will happily pay it!
I was immediately ushered into a private ER room and I was surrounded by nurses and a doctor. They inexplicably changed out the IV that I was given in the ambulance (why, I have no idea?), but I was happy they did so since they also began to administer IV pain meds.
I'll point out again that I do not usually bother with taking any medication for pain. Hubby thinks it's because I'm being a martyr, but whatever. The first hit of IV drugs did nothing to ease my pain. They followed up with another dose around ten minutes later. Between that and the Benadryl to help me sleep (as if, right?) I definitely felt my pain and anxiety ease up a bit. Hubby tells me that I got high as a kite and was totally loopy from that point on.
The ER doctor performed a pelvic exam and, unbelievably, my baby still wasn't coming out. I thought for sure it was nearly over, but it wasn't even close. He sent a gynecologist down and she verified that this was nowhere near completion so she slated me to get a D&C. Even though I'd vomited out my stomach contents, I had to wait for six hours to pass since I'd eaten the dang egg sandwich.
Here's a funny side note because you know I have to find something funny in all of this. I was totally inappropriate with the gynecologist and my hubby tells me that I was practically flirting with her. I kept complimenting her pretty blue eyes and going on & on about how lovely I found her eyes. I'm sure that ER staff appreciates when a kind and appreciative patient comes through instead of a bitchy and belligerent one, but damn I'm a weirdo! Alternately, reasons like these are why I don't take drugs! haha
The doubly funny thing is that I'm not even particularly fond of blue eyes, but show me a set of baby browns and I'm all over it. Yes, I'm aware that my hubs has green eyes. What can I say? Eyes just don't matter that much in the grand scheme of things, do they?
I ultimately ended up with at least four (but I think the final tally was six) doses of IV pain meds, but I STILL FELT THE DAMN CONTRACTIONS! They were nowhere near as painful, but I still felt them and there was still slight pain associated with them. I guess they were pretty strong or I'm just a big puss. Maybe a little of both.
I finally passed out before going to the OR. I hadn't even been hit with the general anaesthesia yet. I woke up in recovery and asked when I could expect to have the procedure. They nurses told me it was already over and everything went perfectly fine. I couldn't believe it. I had a complete absence of pain - emotionally and physically. It was the easiest recovery from general that I've ever had and I credit the recovery nurses for keeping me calm and focused. After reflecting on it a little, this is also the first time that I went under while still wearing my contacts so I actually could see my surroundings when I came to. Perhaps that helped keep my anxiety at bay too.
There was talk that they might keep me overnight for observation. I wasn't too keen on that idea once my husband told me how upset our son was before I left and after I was gone. I really wanted to be here when he woke up in the morning so he could see that I was okay and everything was going to be okay. I'm thankful that I didn't lose much in the way of blood and was able to urinate easily once I was permitted to consume liquids so they determined that I could go home. As always, it's a hurry up and wait game to get discharged from a hospital. I arrived back home at around 3:00 am.
So how am I doing? I'm doing good. And that's not just trying to be positive; I really am okay. I went through a lot of emotional pain just waiting for it to happen and, once I had the lack of heartbeat confirmed over and over again, I felt a sense of peace for the first time since I learned of my baby's death. Oddly enough, I feel perfectly fine from a physical and emotional standpoint for the first time in nearly three-weeks.
The playground is shut down for six-weeks, I can't drive for two weeks (WTF?!), and I have a bunch of lifting and rest restrictions, but I feel so damn good right now physically and emotionally that I can't get too worked up about it. I guess I'm finally ready to accept/acknowledge what has happened and begin the healing process of this grief journey.
I went to a damn dark place once the pain meds kicked it at the ER and hubs tells me that I told him I was sure I was dying. I thought it at the house, but certainly wasn't going to verbalize it and jinx myself. I even told him that I wanted him to find a good wife and mother for our son. He told me to stop it and I guess I replied that that's just what I do. Uh, what exactly did I mean? Brood about death? That's creepy!
I also clearly informed him that I will never, never, never take the wait and see approach again. The emotional cost was too high and I simply couldn't pay the physical price. Additionally, I let him know that labor pains (if they can even be called that this early on) were immensely over-rated. Everyone thinks they're a comedian when they're a little loaded, eh?
Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, and well-wishes. It was, simply put, the single most frightening and painful thing that I've ever experienced. I've had four impacted wisdom teeth removed at once and I've had a c-section that left me feeling like I was hit by a bus, but those were NOTHING compared to how much I was suffering before I finally went to the hospital and received treatment. Thank goodness for modern medicine!
I can also say that I've had my first ride in an ambulance. For the record, I don't recommend it. It's not that the paramedics weren't great because I couldn't have asked for better first responders. It's that I was in so much agony that I actually felt the need to get an ambulance to deliver me to the hospital. I could not have made it by riding shotgun in my hubby's car. I couldn't even sit up or stand, let alone walk to a car.
So what happened? Here's the story with all the gory details. There isn't really any gore though so don't be afraid to continue reading.
I began to bleed a little late Tuesday evening. I'll spare you the sexy details, but let's just say that it probably wasn't too smart to ignore certain restrictions that I ignored. The bleeding never increased and it was only enough to justify wearing a liner so it wasn't a big deal.
I woke up yesterday with more back pain than what I've been experiencing for the last several days. Along with the back pain came stomach cramps. Since I'm the Queen of Denial, I figured that something I'd eaten was proving difficult to digest.
I packed up the kiddo and went to a park playdate with friends for a few hours. My back really started to bother me while we were at the park, but I tried to keep my mind off the pain by chatting with friends and having a good laugh over our kids splishing and splashing in puddles. At some point, maybe around noon, I noticed that the cramps were getting stronger. Still wasn't enough pain to worry about though.
My son and I arrived home around 1:30 yesterday afternoon. I realized that I was experiencing fairly strong pain once I'd left my friends and lost my distractions. It wasn't enough to want to take anything for pain management, but it definitely was getting my attention. I put my son down for a nap and I went to lie down on my own bed because I just wasn't feeling well.
I don't suffer menstrual cramps and I have never experienced labor. If you have felt labor, you probably know what was happening. I sure as heck did not.
I had a D&C scheduled for today, but my body had other plans and finally started the process to begin to release the baby. Everything I've read and heard indicates that a completed miscarriage feels like strong menstrual pain. That sounds perfectly acceptable, right? The problem is that I don't suffer from period pain (I just bleed a lot and often) so I was TOTALLY UNPREPARED for how quickly the pain went from 0 to 60 and just how painful it can be. No wonder some women are totally crippled by their cycles! Those of you who suffer painful periods have my complete sympathy.
I started a text-a-thon with a couple of friends; one who has had a natural miscarriage at the same gestational point and one who is a natural childbirth instructor. Both offered much-needed support and fantastically wonderful advice on how to manage the pain and what to expect. Since I was supposed to have the D&C today, I couldn't really take anything so I had to rely upon natural pain relief methods and distraction.
I was quiet so as not to wake my son, but I asked my husband home around 3:00 because the pain was clearly intensifying and I knew that I could not handle caring for my son while trying to handle this event. I tried to remember to stay hydrated with water and even ate an egg sandwich that my husband thoughtfully prepared for me when he arrived home.
Things were fine, relatively speaking, until around 4:00 or so. That's when I began to dry-heave and felt like I might have diarrhea. I contacted my OB around 4:40 and he responded to my message within five minutes. I think he's the best physician I have ever had; he's certainly the kindest and most responsive. He indicated that everything sounded normal, but that I should feel free to take Tylenol or the Norco, which is Vicodin w/ Tylenol (weird name, huh?), that I picked up at the pharmacy the day before.
Those of you who know me surely know that I do not take pills for no reason. I think there is some value in letting pain run it's course. I was trying every single suggestion for natural pain relief and I can say that distraction only goes so far. I first found myself whimpering through the cramping and, as they intensified, I ended up moaning into my pillow while trying to relax.
I took one Norco at 5:00 and it afforded me about 90 minutes of reasonable pain relief. It did not remove the pain by any stretch, but it did make it somewhat more bearable for a period of time. There reached a point where all I could think about was the pain and when it would hit again. The contractions (if you will) brought me to my knees if I was standing or made me writhe around on my bed if I was lying down. I figured this was normal and tried to muster on.
Then I began violently shaking and vomiting. That was followed by cold sweats and then hot sweats. I wasn't merely trembling, I was SHAKING. I was shaking so badly that I could no longer stand or sit up on my own. I became lightheaded and the room began spinning more than once. I've never fainted before and I suppose this is when I began to feel frightened that something was really going wrong with this miscarriage.
I screamed out for my husband to help me. I felt like my insides were trying to get to the outside and I was sitting on the toilet to hasten the process. Besides a tremendous amount of vomit, nothing happened. Nothing. There was some sticky, almost mucousy, blood and several small clots. That was it.
I suddenly felt better wondered aloud if it was over. My husband looked and reported that there was nothing in the toilet. My reprieve lasted probably less than a minute and I became violently ill all over again. There was nothing in my digestive system at this point, but I continued to vomit up stomach acid that burned all the way out my throat and even out through my nose. I started crying and begging for help.
My husband wanted to drive me to the hospital, but I could not handle the idea of the drive (even though it's like 3 miles from our house) or the eons-long wait to be treated. He suggested an ambulance and I brushed off the idea. He continued to carry/drag me back and forth from the bed to the toilet.
The only thing that appeared to be happening was that I began to freak out more and more with each contraction. I thought that I was only moaning through the pain, but my husband told me later that I was crying out loudly enough (screaming really) that I frightened our son. I regret that I couldn't keep better control and that I caused my little boy so much distress. I had no idea that I was having such a massive freak-out and wish now that I'd gone to the hospital when my husband first suggested the idea.
It finally got so bad that we called an ambulance (waaah-mbulance was more like it) to take me to the hospital. I think I had every single awful and uncomfortable symptom: back pain, major contracting, vomiting, diarrhea, cold sweats, hot sweats, weakness, lightheadedness, hyperventilation - basically if it's gross or sucky, it happened. The paramedics (I learned later that the FD showed up too) were at my house in what seemed like only a minute. My blood pressure was high and I was over-oxygenated because I had apparently been hyperventilating for an extended period of time.
They were all incredibly helpful, but the paramedic who looked like Dr. Drew was really helpful at getting me to calm the heck down. He must have repeated that my panic was only serving to increase the pain at least 1,001 times. When my eyes wildly darted around, he'd remind me to look at him and take low and slow breaths. When I'd clench up, he'd remind me to take control of my body and try to relax. When I began crying about the pain, he'd ask me to tell him about the happiest place I've been. No, the happiest place on Earth wasn't Disneyland. It was a quiet beach on Kauai and I kept trying to visualize a palm tree.
I lost my pants at some point so I was wheeled out of my house wearing a blanket from the ambulance. I'm not ashamed of my body, but I would have misgivings about six strange men seeing me nude from the waist down with my legs flailing this way and that. As I memorably said on one occasion, I just wouldn't do split beaver shots these days. You know, I did not care about modesty at that point. I remained unconcerned about my lack of clothing until I was getting ready to be discharged from the hospital.
So they took me to the ER and, I guess since I arrived in an ambulance, I jumped the line of people in the waiting room. Hubs told me the waiting room was PACKED when he got there so I'm thankful that I didn't have to wait for treatment. I don't know what that privilege is going to cost, but that's one bill I will happily pay without complaint because it was worth it. Okay, okay, my husband will happily pay it!
I was immediately ushered into a private ER room and I was surrounded by nurses and a doctor. They inexplicably changed out the IV that I was given in the ambulance (why, I have no idea?), but I was happy they did so since they also began to administer IV pain meds.
I'll point out again that I do not usually bother with taking any medication for pain. Hubby thinks it's because I'm being a martyr, but whatever. The first hit of IV drugs did nothing to ease my pain. They followed up with another dose around ten minutes later. Between that and the Benadryl to help me sleep (as if, right?) I definitely felt my pain and anxiety ease up a bit. Hubby tells me that I got high as a kite and was totally loopy from that point on.
The ER doctor performed a pelvic exam and, unbelievably, my baby still wasn't coming out. I thought for sure it was nearly over, but it wasn't even close. He sent a gynecologist down and she verified that this was nowhere near completion so she slated me to get a D&C. Even though I'd vomited out my stomach contents, I had to wait for six hours to pass since I'd eaten the dang egg sandwich.
Here's a funny side note because you know I have to find something funny in all of this. I was totally inappropriate with the gynecologist and my hubby tells me that I was practically flirting with her. I kept complimenting her pretty blue eyes and going on & on about how lovely I found her eyes. I'm sure that ER staff appreciates when a kind and appreciative patient comes through instead of a bitchy and belligerent one, but damn I'm a weirdo! Alternately, reasons like these are why I don't take drugs! haha
The doubly funny thing is that I'm not even particularly fond of blue eyes, but show me a set of baby browns and I'm all over it. Yes, I'm aware that my hubs has green eyes. What can I say? Eyes just don't matter that much in the grand scheme of things, do they?
I ultimately ended up with at least four (but I think the final tally was six) doses of IV pain meds, but I STILL FELT THE DAMN CONTRACTIONS! They were nowhere near as painful, but I still felt them and there was still slight pain associated with them. I guess they were pretty strong or I'm just a big puss. Maybe a little of both.
I finally passed out before going to the OR. I hadn't even been hit with the general anaesthesia yet. I woke up in recovery and asked when I could expect to have the procedure. They nurses told me it was already over and everything went perfectly fine. I couldn't believe it. I had a complete absence of pain - emotionally and physically. It was the easiest recovery from general that I've ever had and I credit the recovery nurses for keeping me calm and focused. After reflecting on it a little, this is also the first time that I went under while still wearing my contacts so I actually could see my surroundings when I came to. Perhaps that helped keep my anxiety at bay too.
There was talk that they might keep me overnight for observation. I wasn't too keen on that idea once my husband told me how upset our son was before I left and after I was gone. I really wanted to be here when he woke up in the morning so he could see that I was okay and everything was going to be okay. I'm thankful that I didn't lose much in the way of blood and was able to urinate easily once I was permitted to consume liquids so they determined that I could go home. As always, it's a hurry up and wait game to get discharged from a hospital. I arrived back home at around 3:00 am.
So how am I doing? I'm doing good. And that's not just trying to be positive; I really am okay. I went through a lot of emotional pain just waiting for it to happen and, once I had the lack of heartbeat confirmed over and over again, I felt a sense of peace for the first time since I learned of my baby's death. Oddly enough, I feel perfectly fine from a physical and emotional standpoint for the first time in nearly three-weeks.
The playground is shut down for six-weeks, I can't drive for two weeks (WTF?!), and I have a bunch of lifting and rest restrictions, but I feel so damn good right now physically and emotionally that I can't get too worked up about it. I guess I'm finally ready to accept/acknowledge what has happened and begin the healing process of this grief journey.
I went to a damn dark place once the pain meds kicked it at the ER and hubs tells me that I told him I was sure I was dying. I thought it at the house, but certainly wasn't going to verbalize it and jinx myself. I even told him that I wanted him to find a good wife and mother for our son. He told me to stop it and I guess I replied that that's just what I do. Uh, what exactly did I mean? Brood about death? That's creepy!
I also clearly informed him that I will never, never, never take the wait and see approach again. The emotional cost was too high and I simply couldn't pay the physical price. Additionally, I let him know that labor pains (if they can even be called that this early on) were immensely over-rated. Everyone thinks they're a comedian when they're a little loaded, eh?
Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, and well-wishes. It was, simply put, the single most frightening and painful thing that I've ever experienced. I've had four impacted wisdom teeth removed at once and I've had a c-section that left me feeling like I was hit by a bus, but those were NOTHING compared to how much I was suffering before I finally went to the hospital and received treatment. Thank goodness for modern medicine!
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Blessings in Suffering
Today I had a couple of quick exchanges with a few friends about my current situation. I still haven't started to pass my baby and it's making me sadder as the days go by. It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that my baby lost it's heartbeat a week ago and my body still can't let it go.
At risk of sounding like a braggart, I led a remarkably charmed life for several years. I enjoyed more happiness and joy than I could ever deserve. I didn't have much in the way of pain or suffering and, as a result, I had grown quite fat and lazy from a spiritual and emotional standpoint. That's not really a good place to be in my opinion and it's good that I've been tested and refined in this last year.
Regular readers of this blog know that there has been significant heartbreak in my life in the last twelve months. I haven't written about everything that has happened because it would be inappropriate for me to share, but there has been a lot more that I haven't even breathed a word about in this blog. Yes, believe it or not, there are some things that even I think are important to keep hidden, secret, and out of print.
I have wondered more than once if the things that I've been whining about are just normal things that happen all the time to everyone else, but I've had many people agree that it does appear that my family has been under attack with spectacularly difficult challenges in the last twelve-months. What should I make of this realization that we have been hit by this onslaught? Should I feel that God doesn't care about my faithfulness? Should I feel abandoned by God? Should I be mad at God? Should I turn away from God and lean on my own understanding?
I faithfully (get it?!) submit that I should still find a way to give thanks for these painful circumstances. Am I crazy? I don't think so and I don't think that any Christian would. Great growth tends to come after great suffering. Imagine how much growth I'm going to be blessed with when these trials are over! I'm convinced that this great suffering is preparing me for completing great works.
God is in everything. Everything! And, if we let Him, He can use anything for good. Yes, even the death of this much loved and wanted baby can be used for good in God's name! There is already good in this suffering. Rather than turning away from God during these difficult times, I've grown closer to Him. My faith has been strengthened although my emotions have been battered.
I hope that I continue to lean on Him because there's no way I'd be able to handle these challenges on my own. I didn't become a Christian until I was in my mid-20s and I know for a fact that I would be completely broken if I was dealing with all of this while spiritually adrift. I was in a perfect position, spiritually, to experience the events of the last twelve months because I had learned of God's true love. It's not an accident that this testing happened after I accepted Christ in my heart.
I know what I want, but that doesn't mean that it's the right time (if you will) and I don't have the benefit of God's vision so I can't even second guess what's been happening because I don't have all the information to form an educated opinion. I hope that never-ending sentence made sense! I don't doubt that blessings will return to my life (and, really, I am still being marvelously blessed!) and I will rejoice and give Him the thanks when that day comes!
At risk of sounding like a braggart, I led a remarkably charmed life for several years. I enjoyed more happiness and joy than I could ever deserve. I didn't have much in the way of pain or suffering and, as a result, I had grown quite fat and lazy from a spiritual and emotional standpoint. That's not really a good place to be in my opinion and it's good that I've been tested and refined in this last year.
Regular readers of this blog know that there has been significant heartbreak in my life in the last twelve months. I haven't written about everything that has happened because it would be inappropriate for me to share, but there has been a lot more that I haven't even breathed a word about in this blog. Yes, believe it or not, there are some things that even I think are important to keep hidden, secret, and out of print.
I have wondered more than once if the things that I've been whining about are just normal things that happen all the time to everyone else, but I've had many people agree that it does appear that my family has been under attack with spectacularly difficult challenges in the last twelve-months. What should I make of this realization that we have been hit by this onslaught? Should I feel that God doesn't care about my faithfulness? Should I feel abandoned by God? Should I be mad at God? Should I turn away from God and lean on my own understanding?
I faithfully (get it?!) submit that I should still find a way to give thanks for these painful circumstances. Am I crazy? I don't think so and I don't think that any Christian would. Great growth tends to come after great suffering. Imagine how much growth I'm going to be blessed with when these trials are over! I'm convinced that this great suffering is preparing me for completing great works.
God is in everything. Everything! And, if we let Him, He can use anything for good. Yes, even the death of this much loved and wanted baby can be used for good in God's name! There is already good in this suffering. Rather than turning away from God during these difficult times, I've grown closer to Him. My faith has been strengthened although my emotions have been battered.
I hope that I continue to lean on Him because there's no way I'd be able to handle these challenges on my own. I didn't become a Christian until I was in my mid-20s and I know for a fact that I would be completely broken if I was dealing with all of this while spiritually adrift. I was in a perfect position, spiritually, to experience the events of the last twelve months because I had learned of God's true love. It's not an accident that this testing happened after I accepted Christ in my heart.
I know what I want, but that doesn't mean that it's the right time (if you will) and I don't have the benefit of God's vision so I can't even second guess what's been happening because I don't have all the information to form an educated opinion. I hope that never-ending sentence made sense! I don't doubt that blessings will return to my life (and, really, I am still being marvelously blessed!) and I will rejoice and give Him the thanks when that day comes!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Delving Deep
It's rare for me to feel ashamed or embarrassed and I'm mostly an open book, but there are some things that are just too horrible to articulate. On the 21st, I alluded to some dark thoughts that I had been having. I'd be content to keep those thoughts locked away forever because I am ashamed for entertaining this line of thinking for even a moment. I'm only exposing this because I hope my confession might help anyone reading this who has suffered or is currently suffering with grief.
I slept poorly the night before (on the 20th) and, as a bonus, I also had a migraine for several sleepless hours. I started the day exhausted and drained. I made the bad decision to not follow my schedule and flaked out on going to my son's pre-preschool. This gave me the opportunity to languish about and it was my excuse for moping around the house.
I was weeping openly as I was doing the breakfast dishes that morning, mourning the loss of my only brother, and I accidentally cut myself with a butter knife. Yeouch! I had no idea that a butter knife would slice flesh, but it sure did. I dropped the knife back in the sink and tightly gripped my finger.
Do it again.
I gasped at the thought and looked around the kitchen. My tears stopped flowing as my blood dripped into the basin. I stared at those drops of blood, no longer feeling the numbing pain of grief. I was only aware of the pain from my cut. It was something that I could feel.
Do it. You know you want to.
"No. . ." I whispered quietly to myself. I was very aware of my heartbeat and the sound of the Wonder Pets playing on the television in the front room. I stared out my kitchen window without seeing anything. Time began to slow. My finger throbbed and I pushed old memories from my head.
Don't you want to feel alive? Do it!
"Stop it! You're starting to sound crazy!" I picked up the butter knife and, for the briefest of moments, turned out my forearm and studied the network of blue veins.
Up and across. . .it's easy. You have better knives. . .
I threw the butter knife back to the sink and fled the kitchen for the safety of my son and the Wonder Pets in the living room. My son was dancing and clapping his hands. Everything looked remarkably normal and comfortable.
I flung myself onto the couch. My chest was tight and my breathing was rough. I covered my face with my hands and I shook with violent sobs though no tears fell.
"I can't do this. Help me. Please! Oh God, please help me!"
I don't know how long I cried out. It might have been five minutes, it might have been five hours. But I felt totally spent afterward. Limp. The rest of my day was filled with quiet contemplation while my son enjoyed a rare day filled with cartoons on the television.
Was my horrible thought process telling me to simply cut? Or to kill? I don't know and I don't really care. Neither are acceptable to me. I would never intentionally hurt my family so why would I have such thoughts? Why would I entertain them at all? How could I possibly consider such a selfish act? Was I really going crazy?
And then that evil little voice came back. To accuse.
Hasn't your family suffered enough without your selfishness? What's the matter with you? No one could ever forgive you or understand. You better straighten up, girl, or else. Look at you; crying and weeping. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Yes, my thoughts took me to suicide and I suffered these terrible accusations all day long. All day long.
I wish I could say that it was the first time I've ever had those types of thoughts, but it wasn't. I came dangerously close on two different occasions a long time ago during my first marriage. My love and concern for my family is the only reason I am still here today. I kept living through the agony so that I didn't hurt my family. It was such a horribly miserable period and I don't care to share any more on those memories at this time.
I had one very dark day in the last month, but rest assured that I haven't had those kinds of thoughts since. I pray that they don't return and I'm trying hard to keep myself surrounded by loved ones. . .I have found that quiet moments are when you can hear that horrible little voice. So I've been trying to stay busy.
Self-destructive thoughts are not unusual while suffering grief, but you can expect them to pass somewhat quickly. If, however, your self-destructive thoughts persist or you find yourself taking steps to make it happen - get professional help NOW! Call 911 if necessary, do whatever it takes to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe.
I hope that sharing this has been helpful if you've ever suffered crushing grief or are currently suffering. Sometimes we go to deep and dark places when we're grieving. . .let's crawl out together and enjoy a little sunshine.
* * *
I slept poorly the night before (on the 20th) and, as a bonus, I also had a migraine for several sleepless hours. I started the day exhausted and drained. I made the bad decision to not follow my schedule and flaked out on going to my son's pre-preschool. This gave me the opportunity to languish about and it was my excuse for moping around the house.
I was weeping openly as I was doing the breakfast dishes that morning, mourning the loss of my only brother, and I accidentally cut myself with a butter knife. Yeouch! I had no idea that a butter knife would slice flesh, but it sure did. I dropped the knife back in the sink and tightly gripped my finger.
Do it again.
I gasped at the thought and looked around the kitchen. My tears stopped flowing as my blood dripped into the basin. I stared at those drops of blood, no longer feeling the numbing pain of grief. I was only aware of the pain from my cut. It was something that I could feel.
Do it. You know you want to.
"No. . ." I whispered quietly to myself. I was very aware of my heartbeat and the sound of the Wonder Pets playing on the television in the front room. I stared out my kitchen window without seeing anything. Time began to slow. My finger throbbed and I pushed old memories from my head.
Don't you want to feel alive? Do it!
"Stop it! You're starting to sound crazy!" I picked up the butter knife and, for the briefest of moments, turned out my forearm and studied the network of blue veins.
Up and across. . .it's easy. You have better knives. . .
I threw the butter knife back to the sink and fled the kitchen for the safety of my son and the Wonder Pets in the living room. My son was dancing and clapping his hands. Everything looked remarkably normal and comfortable.
I flung myself onto the couch. My chest was tight and my breathing was rough. I covered my face with my hands and I shook with violent sobs though no tears fell.
"I can't do this. Help me. Please! Oh God, please help me!"
I don't know how long I cried out. It might have been five minutes, it might have been five hours. But I felt totally spent afterward. Limp. The rest of my day was filled with quiet contemplation while my son enjoyed a rare day filled with cartoons on the television.
Was my horrible thought process telling me to simply cut? Or to kill? I don't know and I don't really care. Neither are acceptable to me. I would never intentionally hurt my family so why would I have such thoughts? Why would I entertain them at all? How could I possibly consider such a selfish act? Was I really going crazy?
And then that evil little voice came back. To accuse.
Hasn't your family suffered enough without your selfishness? What's the matter with you? No one could ever forgive you or understand. You better straighten up, girl, or else. Look at you; crying and weeping. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Yes, my thoughts took me to suicide and I suffered these terrible accusations all day long. All day long.
* * *
I wish I could say that it was the first time I've ever had those types of thoughts, but it wasn't. I came dangerously close on two different occasions a long time ago during my first marriage. My love and concern for my family is the only reason I am still here today. I kept living through the agony so that I didn't hurt my family. It was such a horribly miserable period and I don't care to share any more on those memories at this time.
I had one very dark day in the last month, but rest assured that I haven't had those kinds of thoughts since. I pray that they don't return and I'm trying hard to keep myself surrounded by loved ones. . .I have found that quiet moments are when you can hear that horrible little voice. So I've been trying to stay busy.
Self-destructive thoughts are not unusual while suffering grief, but you can expect them to pass somewhat quickly. If, however, your self-destructive thoughts persist or you find yourself taking steps to make it happen - get professional help NOW! Call 911 if necessary, do whatever it takes to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe.
I hope that sharing this has been helpful if you've ever suffered crushing grief or are currently suffering. Sometimes we go to deep and dark places when we're grieving. . .let's crawl out together and enjoy a little sunshine.
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