Five years ago.....

Five years is a long time.
A long time to go without really talking about something.  Or really feeling it.

Five years ago at this time I was pregnant.  And it almost killed me.  It turns out it was ectopic and ruptured one morning while we were at the beach.  After a 45 minute ambulance ride and emergency surgery, I was fine.  Within 20 minutes of dying, the doctor said.  But you'll be ok now, he said.

I wrote about it then. I wrote about friends' support and trying to get back out into the world.  I wrote about losing a baby, who at only two inches still had hopes and dreams bundled into him.

But I didn't write about almost dying.

I was recently told that I wouldn't talk about it. I don't remember that. I've thought a lot about that:  I think I couldn't. I knew somehow that if I talked about almost dying, I would lose it.  And I couldn't do that.  Not when it was so clear, so plain, that everyone needed me.  I'm the rock.  I need to be ok.  Even now, to think about it my feet go numb; my heart rate increases.

I couldn't go there then -- but that wall I built around the fear and pain is coming down.  I want to feel it.  I need to feel. Parts of me can't be walled off anymore.

So tonight, all tucked in my bed, thinking about going to the beach tomorrow, my mind slipped back. Somehow knowing I am strong enough, there was a shift, a crack and I was through the wall:  I was back on the gurney, my doctor on one side, my husband on the other. Trying to be calm, feeling the anesthesia take hold and being absolutely terrified.  My girls, my girls...I can't die.  I just took them to the beach, they ran off to play -- no special hugs.  Would they even remember what I last said to them?  I probably yelled something about sunscreen.  My husband.  My love - I can't leave him. Alone, with the girls, without me. They can't survive.  I can't just slip away....

All this fear came out - and I lost it.  Out of the blue - feeling these feelings.  Fresh. Raw.  Crying and crying. Losing it.

But not forever. I stopped crying, then started again - but that was ok.  Feeling this is ok.  Losing it is ok.  Because in losing it, I am not lost.  I am found.

Emotional Blockage

For over one year, this blog has been a place to share, process things, and tell funny, and some not so funny, stories. Generally such writing and sharing has been fun and cathartic. But now I am stuck. So rather than just be stuck and stare at old entries wondering where my words have gone, I thought I would write about being stuck.

Generally, when I write a blog entry, I've been thinking and processing in my mind and then sit down and write everything just in a couple of minutes. But when I know I should write, that it would help to write, it seems there are no words.

For the past few weeks, I have been having what I call sort-of-PTSD, for lack of a better term. Every time I think about July 26 last year, I feel like I can't breathe, my heart races, I get flushed and my hands feel numb. It goes away after a few seconds. But will it go away after July 26th?

Last year, on July 26th, I almost died. If you review old posts, that was when I had an ectopic pregnancy that ruptured, causing internal bleeding. I bled over 2 liters before emergency surgery. My doctor said another 20 minutes, I may not have made it. 20 minutes. It is unreal to even contemplate that.

So as the anniversary of this event approaches, I am feeling increasingly anxious and have an incredible lack of being able to cope. My facade is cracking. Not that my life isn't great right now, because it is. But my emotions about what happened last year are taking over. It makes me really angry to feel this messed up about something that happened a year ago. Something that I feel like I have been processing well. I feel betrayed by my emotions. I'm not sure how to process them so I am trying my best to keep busy and distracted until after the 26th - lots of movies, book reading and projects around the house. I guess the question is, what happens after the 26th?

You know you are not well when....

you want to break down crying at the bagel shop because they didn't get your sandwich order right, and you want to start screaming at the top of your lungs, "Damn it, this is the first time I've been out the house since I came home from the hospital after almost dying last Sunday!"  Can you imagine the stunned silence, the murmured apologies. . . the free bagels?

I haven't written in a while.  Now there is almost too much to write. 

First, I couldn't write was because I couldn't think of anything to write about except what was consuming my almost every thought in early July - I was pregnant!  This was not supposed to happen - 3 years ago I was diagnosed with pof (premature ovarian failure - poof - no more babies.)  My doctor seemed to liked to say, upon doing an ultrasound at my many check-ups, "Well, your ovaries are quiet"  (what the hell does that mean anyway??)  Then, wham - almost 3 years exactly since things went wacky down there, I'm pregnant!  And not just pregnant, but already queasy if I didn't eat every 2 hours, therefore already gaining weight.   My husband jokingly called "them" the quads.   After our initial shock, disbelief and crazy, giddy laughter that would strike at odd times, my husband and I were happy.

Until the 6 week ultrasound.  Nothing, nada - no little alien-shaped baby with that tiny fluttery heartbeat.  Have I mentioned that I hate going to this doctor's office?  Three years of "your ovaries are like those of a woman in her mid 50's" and then this??  I know women have miscarriages all the time - the more people I talk to, the more common it seems to be.  But, of course, it isn't usually talked about.  It's not generally accepted to answer a prefunctory, "how are you?"  with "I'm really sad because the baby I couldn't help but think about all the time and who was to be here in March died."  You aren't really supposed to say that.... 

So, grief, sadness. . . then shock.  The next day, an early morning phone call from the doctors office - your hormone levels are too high - we must have missed something.  It must be ectopic.  Ok, ectopic is one of those freaky things in all the baby books we all just read really quickly and think, "holy crap, no way could that happen to me."  And I didn't have any of the other symptoms (aside from no baby in the uterus).  No crampy pain, nothing.  So, another ultrasound, searching, searching.  Nothing, nothing - ok, maybe that's it, but it isn't typical.  Hmmm.... more blood work.  If my levels didn't go down enough, then I had to have surgery in 5 hours.  "Just" laproscopic, small inscisions.  Aaaiigghh!  I have never had any surgery whatsoever....But, then, big relief, my hormone levels went down dramatically.  So, new plan - monitor my blood hormone levels weekly,  call the doctor if I have any pain.  

So, no more freaking out, just back to being sad and moving on with life....

Until last Sunday the ectopic pregnancy ruptured, causing massive internal bleeding.  After a long ambulance ride to the hospital from Lake Tahoe, and a short visit to the ER, I was in surgery for an hour and a half.  I lost almost half my blood (thank you all blood donors) but made it just fine.  Fine being relative - I am here, alive, have a wonderful family, irreplaceable friends and am getting better each day.   I know I am strong and will heal fast.  What would really help is a bagel sandwich . . .