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.

Not losing my mind

So, we got back from vacationing in Santa Cruz for four days to discover that the hose in the backyard was left on.  We are now probably home to a few dozen frogs and thousands of mosquito larvae, all in the swamp that is our grass.  

Now, it is not unheard of for me to do something like this - especially since I was in charge of getting us all packed up, house closed up, AC off, windows locked, etc.  We were picking up my husband on the way over in Sacramento, where he flew in from a business trip.  But I just know I didn't even go in the backyard the morning we left.  I even specifically thought about giving the garden a bit extra water, but was just too busy.   But, last night at 11:00 p.m. when my husband and I discovered this, I eventually concluded that I must have done it, even though I have no memory of it.  

This conclusion was very disheartening for someone who really tries to be organized and together. In fact, I dare say I pride myself on my organizational skills.  So I've been feeling a bit off this morning, wondering what other bizarre things I have done that I have no earthly memory of.  

After breakfast, my eldest, Queen Bee, went outside to survey our new swamp.  After about 10 minutes she comes in and nonchalantly says, "Oh, mom, I must have left that on when I went out to water your tree before we left."  That's it . . . no drama, just stating the facts.  

So, my sanity is intact for now.  Although 20 minutes ago, upon putting my dad's birthday cake in the oven, I discovered I had forgotten 1 cup of milk (that's a whole lot of liquid!) and ran around frantically taking the pans out, scraping the batter back into the mixer, adding milk, re-greasing and flouring the pans....sigh....  I'll let you know how the cake turns out.