The GOOD, The Bad, And The UGLY

Sunday was the one month anniversary of us saying hello and goodbye to our precious Mary Margaret. The good news, we survived! The bad news, the day was really, really difficult. I have been writing and rewriting this post for several days now. This is the first time I have done that. I usually just pour my heart out, don't even edit and hit 'publish'. For some reason, this one has been particularly difficult. 

The UGLY all really started Saturday. I woke up Saturday morning and all I could think about was that tomorrow would be a month since I lost my pride and joy. I got up though, and we had a pretty good day. I felt like I was carrying around this "heaviness" though... it was weird. Saturday night was Asher's first birthday. Asher is the son of our best friends Jacob and Amanda. Jacob and Amanda have been by our side through the whole journey with Mary. Jacob even baptized Mary in the OR once she was born. They have been a support for us emotionally and spiritually. Saturday was Asher's birthday party as it was his actual birthday. I debated on whether or not I should go to the party. I love Asher. He is a "safe" baby as I call it. He was born and in our life before we conceived Mary. I can be around him just fine and actually enjoy it. I love the way he stares into my soul, it makes me laugh. I wanted to be there to show my love and appreciation for Jacob and Amanda and my love for Asher, but I was less than excited about being around lots of other babies and toddlers and moms and dads. I just don't where we are supposed to fit in in situations like that. When Sam goes with the guys, they often don't talk about babies. Women are wired differently and I am no exception. We will talk babies, and poop, and not sleeping all the time. My heart longs for conversations like that, but I can't really participate. I hate to bring Mary up, not because I'm embarrassed of her, but because I hate to make people uncomfortable. The truth is, a lot of people don't know how to act around me. I just desire to be "normal". I wish I could bring Mary up and not have people pity more or feel uncomfortable. The reality is though, many, many people do. So I don't talk about her. But then I feel guilty for not talking about her because she is my baby. This is why I avoid social situations with lots of kids unless they are in my "safe" group. I decided to go though because Sam wanted me too and I wanted to support him with his friends. He does a lot for me!! The least I could do was put on make up and go to a party with him. Once we got there though, I was almost instantly uncomfortable. As much as I tried not to be. I felt so bad being there. I fought back tears the whole time. I didn't know who to talk to or where to go. All I knew was that I did not want to take away from Jacob, Amanda and Asher's special day. I wished I hadn't gone for that reason. After a few hours of being there, I couldn't do it anymore. When everyone sang Happy Birthday to Asher, Sam and I walked inside. I love Asher, but all I could think about was that we would never been singing Happy Birthday to Mary. She will never have a big party or eat a piece of cake. It was almost to much to think about. That heaviness I had when I woke up Saturday morning was way more intense. I finally lost it. Sam was with the guys, having a good time. That made my heart so happy to see him smiling and having fun. I couldn't pull him away from that. I decided to call my best friend Jessica. She's far away, but I knew she wouldn't judge me. She couldn't understand me as I cried, but she understood the best she could. Sam eventually realized I wasn't around and came and found me. He held me, once again, as I cried and cried. It was ugly. We were in the backyard. I felt so bad for losing it on such a special day. We realized it was time to go, even if that meant skipping dinner. I gathered myself together as we had to walk through the house say goodbye to everyone. When I cry, it's obvious, so everyone inside knew. Then something amazing happened. They loved me regardless of falling apart. We said our goodbyes and left. I sobbed the whole way home. The anxiety of Sunday being so close was almost too much to bear. I couldn't talk. I couldn't do anything. It was a long night. 

Sunday morning rolled around unfortunately, as it always does, and Sam and I decided to skip church. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep myself together. We decided to work in our backyard and garden. On Saturday we had decided to turn it into our butterfly garden, for Mary. We spent the whole morning working together and getting all dirty. It was nice. Then, coincidentally, Sunday was also the first Packers game. I wasn't excited, but I kept telling myself that Mary would be happy that her daddy was happy watching the game. Sam's parents and my dad came over. We had lunch and all watched the game. Throughout the day, I was able to pretend to be ok. I am a great pretender. That afternoon Sam had arranged for me to get a massage. It was great, but it wasn't the most relaxing because I couldn't stop replaying the same hours... just a month earlier. I felt better after the massage though. The massage therapist could not believe how tight I was. I told her that was nothing compared to how my heart was feeling. Sunday night, Sam and I went to dinner, just the two of us. It was great. I happened to look down at my watch and realized it was just 3 minutes before the dreaded minute that we lost our Mary. I fell apart inside...but I should have fallen apart to Sam. We went home and unfortunately didn't have a good night. I was so upset and depressed. 

Monday was a horrible day. I will spare the details as I have written them out many times and deleted them. I couldn't get myself to do anything. I was not happy. I was not okay. We had the pulmonologist. I STILL have pneumonia and have two small nodules in my lungs. He is assuming they are from the severe pneumonia. I have one more month of treatment and rest before more xrays and lung function tests. This really, really, really upset me. All I want is to be healthy and I can't get there. I will be starting back to work still not "healthy" and that was my number one goal. Then we had counseling. It was good but hard. I fell apart for the first time in it. Monday night was the tipping point. Like I said, I will spare the details, but our house was not a fun place to be. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't make a single decision about anything. I had no hope for the future. My heart just ached so much to have Mary back. Everything was just so overwhelming. 

Tuesday morning, we decided it was time to get help. This is the hardest thing to admit, but I have been diagnosed with PPD (postpartum depression). I feel like it is such a taboo subject. Unless you have ever lived through PPD or depression, it is something you can't describe. I have been struggling for a little bit but it has been okay, until this past weekend. Sam and I kept it private because, well, I'm not sure. It's not easy to admit it. It is something many women struggle with but don't talk about. I felt so, so alone. It was yesterday we finally let our family in on "our secret" and today I share with the world. I have been so open and honest this far, I feel like I want to continue. It is my hope and prayer that by speaking up, I let other moms know it is okay. Just because we are depressed and suffering from postpartum, we are okay. We are good moms. We are human. Just as I have kept my faith and cried out to God through the whole process... I continue to do so. I have no doubt that He will get me through this. He will get Sam through this. Although I am the one who is fighting this battle, Sam is fighting a different one. He so desperately wants to help me and this time there is no set answer on what that looks like. Sometimes its holding me when I cry and scream. Sometimes it's keeping me busy and out of the house. Sometimes it's reminding me I AM a mom. Sometimes it's calling to just check in. God will bring us through this, just as he brought us through saying hello and goodbye to our precious and perfect daughter. We will continue to praise God through this storm as well! 

Rejoice and praise God for our miracle baby, Mary Margaret!