This is an odd combination. I am happy because my sister gave birth to beautiful baby girl last night. She is perfect, as are all my sister's babies with their chubby cheeks and heads full of hair. I hate that she is so far away and I cannot hold her. My sister sounds wonderful today after her surgery so all is well there.
I am irritated because I had planned to exsanguinate in the shower today but my husband let me sleep in and my kids got off school early so I did not get the chance to take a shower. So now I must make a new plan. Grrr...
I am trying to keep myself distracted with FB and games and kids' homework. I have found that piercing myself with a large safety pin both focuses my thinking (suicidal thoughts tend to be racing and confused) and gives me a bit of a high. I will utilize this trick to get through this evening. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and not want to make a new plan at all. I doubt it as it has been days but we shall see. I have the knife hidden and sharpened and I have tested it to make sure that it will be effective with minimal effort. It is just the timing that is difficult because I don't want my kids being the ones to find me.
My poor Guerren is already too much like me. I have already cursed him to a childhood of being taken advantage of. Once his classmates actually see me he will have a whole new world of taunting to deal with. I should have just killed myself that first day back in November. My kids would be being homeschooled my my sister in Missouri if I had. My selfishness and gutlessness are visibly hurting my children. I should have just left my wound unattended after Lily was born. It would have gotten infected, my family would have gotten my life insurance money, my family would be out of debt and my kids would have been raised by better than I since then.
God, you hold my sweet angel babies close to you. Please hold my sweet living babies close to you too. It is not their fault they were born to such as I and You can bring good even from the failure which has been their lives thus far. I commit them, again, to your care, Dear Lord. Thank you for all the blessings in my life. I am sorry for all the times I have turned from Your right path and foiled Your perfect plans. Amen.
God Bless all who read this.
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Again?
Today has been a rough day. My psych program is refusing me a simple concession that they allow for other people. Earlier I was livid and upset. Now I just don't care. It is just more evidence that my reasons for wanting to commit suicide are valid. Even my psych program and the psych hospital don't think my life is worth anything. I wrote goodbye notes to my kids during class. The ladies at group wanted to walk me over to the hospital but I refused. I don't want to go inpatient again. Will I hurt myself tonight? Yes. Will I KILL myself tonight? Probably not. I am alone here with my kids. I think finding me dead is a scar they should not have to bear.
I know you people reading this are thinking, "Oh, finding you they shouldn't bear but you being dead they can handle fine? Hello!?" You have to remember two things: 1) I will be burden to them all their lives if I am alive and 2) we are Catholic and they will be surrounded by people who love them who will help them understand that sadness, while difficult, is not a bad thing and they will pray for my soul and move on with their lives being raised by one or both of the most wonderful women on the planet.
God Bless all who read this.
I know you people reading this are thinking, "Oh, finding you they shouldn't bear but you being dead they can handle fine? Hello!?" You have to remember two things: 1) I will be burden to them all their lives if I am alive and 2) we are Catholic and they will be surrounded by people who love them who will help them understand that sadness, while difficult, is not a bad thing and they will pray for my soul and move on with their lives being raised by one or both of the most wonderful women on the planet.
God Bless all who read this.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sad and Lonely
Today I drove on the freeway for the first time in two months. I don;t know how I ever got comfortable with doing that. It is hundreds of people, not all intelligent, driving huge machines that can kill people at high rates of speed controlled by nothing more than PAINT in the ground. It was very stressful but I made it.
Then I had an appointment with my therapist. I have decided to stay with the therapist I am seeing even though he can only see me once a week. I am comfortable with him and I trust him. Hopefully once a week will be often enough. Today was rough. We went over the whole mess that was my 15th year. Most than half my life ago. I was certain I was over all the crap that happened back then. I was a teenager. Who gives a crap what happened back then? Everyone's high school life sucked, right? Did I have it worse than others? Maybe, but, again, who cares?
I have never been one who believed in blaming adult problems on childhood troubles. It goes so against the Catholic and American ideal of personal responsibility. My therapist today said he "[felt] so sad" that I went through the things I was telling him about. The whole appointment hit a nerve but I'm not sure what kind. I am left feeling lost and sad and a little raw.
On top of that I am feeling lonely because today was a day of celebration and I could not thank a hero directly as I intended. But that is my egotism, wanting to celebrate the safety of a man for whom I and my family have prayed every night for a year. It hurts because it is indicative of the family I feel I have lost.
I am, I have found, fundamentally unlovable. I don't know what to do with that.
God Bless all who read this.
Then I had an appointment with my therapist. I have decided to stay with the therapist I am seeing even though he can only see me once a week. I am comfortable with him and I trust him. Hopefully once a week will be often enough. Today was rough. We went over the whole mess that was my 15th year. Most than half my life ago. I was certain I was over all the crap that happened back then. I was a teenager. Who gives a crap what happened back then? Everyone's high school life sucked, right? Did I have it worse than others? Maybe, but, again, who cares?
I have never been one who believed in blaming adult problems on childhood troubles. It goes so against the Catholic and American ideal of personal responsibility. My therapist today said he "[felt] so sad" that I went through the things I was telling him about. The whole appointment hit a nerve but I'm not sure what kind. I am left feeling lost and sad and a little raw.
On top of that I am feeling lonely because today was a day of celebration and I could not thank a hero directly as I intended. But that is my egotism, wanting to celebrate the safety of a man for whom I and my family have prayed every night for a year. It hurts because it is indicative of the family I feel I have lost.
I am, I have found, fundamentally unlovable. I don't know what to do with that.
God Bless all who read this.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
History
I am going to start this history at my loss of Adrian. There were a few incidents earlier in my life but nothing I would consider clinical depression so I see no point in dredging it up here.
After three and a half years of marriage, being told we couldn't have children without immoral intervention, me losing 65 pounds and my husband quitting smoking we finally found ourselves pregnant. No sooner had we rejoiced than I "knew" something was wrong. The next day I started bleeding heavily. That evening Adrian was born. Two days later I had to go back to work. Everyone pretty much acted like it never happened.
Later that month, my fertile signs were really obvious so we kept trying, now that we had proved the doctors wrong. A few weeks later HPTs and doctors agreed that I was pregnant again. The first few weeks were very stressful, having just lost Adrian. Once I had an early ultrasound that showed my little peanut moving and with a perfect little fluttering heart, I was blissful. My pregnancy was perfect. No morning sickness. Serious aversions and cravings but nothing difficult to deal with. No spotting. Perfect blissful pregnancy. My son was born via c-section 16 days early. I spent most of my hospital stay crying because he was in NICU for low blood sugar. I didn't know to demand to breast feed him to avoid this problem. I do not remember most of his first two weeks of life. I remember him screaming for the whole ride home. I remember freaking out about the cats and kicking them outside. I remember sitting in bed rocking my son and crying. Luckily my OB caught that I had PPD. I had no idea. He put me on medication. Once it kicked in, everything was wonderful. I loved everything about having a baby, even being pooped on. I tried to wean myself off the medicine a few times. I had gotten myself off of it completely by the time I started my new job when my son was 7 months old (I had been laid off from my job when my maternity leave ended) and I was my old self again.
When I was pregnant with my second son I found myself sitting at my desk crying all day a couple months before he was born. My OB put me on meds which resolved the issue. I stayed on the meds until several months after he was born.
Then came Susannah. My sweet precious baby girl. She was a surprise baby. She was born still 1t 17 weeks 2 days after two months of problem after problem. I did not seek medication because I felt I should grieve without trying to stifle it. I went back to work much too soon. I probably got pregnant much too soon too, but after a loss like that, the drive to be pregnant again is strong when it kicks in.
Three months after Susannah was born I became pregnant again. This was a terrible pregnancy. Not because I had morning sickness or sciatica or all the other "fun" parts of pregnancy. I could barely function. I was terrified all the time. My mother had to tell me that I needed to seek help. About 2 months into the pregnancy my OB put me back on medication. It took the worst edge off the anxiety but that is all it did. The rest of the pregnancy was like carrying a time bomb in my womb. It only got worse when I found out I was having a girl. My girls were in heaven. To the last minute I could not believe I was going to get to bring a girl home with me. Thankfully I was wrong and my precious baby girl came home with me.
Throughout all of this childbearing other things happened. I found out that my husband had a lifelong addiction about which I knew nothing. This addiction manifested itself repeatedly over the years starting with the night before Everett was born and coming back at every stressful moment along the way, including when we lost Susannah. We also fell into financial difficulties between a mortgage scam, my husband's hours being cut, my new job paying less than half what my old job paid and us tyring to spend our way out of the grief after Susannah was born. We ended up losing our home a couple of years ago.
Another aspect of my depression has come from my health. Before Susannah's pregnancy I was healthy as a horse. Even though I have been fat since I was 8 years old, I had always been very healthy. Perfect blood pressure, perfect blood work. I had allergies and mild asthma. For a kid who grew up with two smokers, I got off easy. After Susannah and Lily it was like my body had it in for me. My blood pressure was suddenly high. Suddenly I had the rheumatoid arthritis with which my mother had suffered for years and my sister had recently been diagnosed. For the first time in my life I hated myself and my body and I was scared I was going to die. I had put on much more weight with the girls than I had with the boys and it didn't come back off like it had before. Getting around and trying to keep up with the kids made my heart race. I was tired all the time. When I did get up the energy to go to the club or take a walk, I would end up feeling like i was having a heart attack.
After doing Weight Watchers again as well as some other diets, I decided that I should look into getting gastric bypass. All my doctors thought it was a wonderful idea. I dove into all the meetings and conferences and testing that is required to get approved. While i was doing that, my doctor was tyring to get my BP under control. I also found a painful spot in my leg and we discovered I have Baker's Cysts in my calves. By this time I was back on antidepressants because I was having trouble concentrating at work and I had zero patience for my children. I was within 10 pounds of my doctor's goal weight for my surgery when my insurance changed. I was actually excited because it meant I could go to my friend's surgeon. After starting the whole rigmarole to get approved through the new insurance I was informed that gastric bypass was specifically excluded and would not be covered.
The straw that broke this camel's back occurred this past October. We had found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant again. I was overjoyed to be pregnant. I had the extra bonus of the pregnancy taking away my rheumatoid arthritis pain. For the first time ever my OB had to put me on progesterone. That did not bode well. I did okay not stressing as bad as I had with Lily. Unfortunately my sweet baby boy Charlie did not stay with me. The process of losing him led to me bleeding out and almost dying.
I no longer wanted to live. I looked at my babies and realized how much better off they would be without the burden of having me as their mother.
Well, that is the basic story. It doesn't cover a great may ins and outs like guilt but at least these are the fundamentals. It makes the depression make a little more sense.
God Bless all who read this.
After three and a half years of marriage, being told we couldn't have children without immoral intervention, me losing 65 pounds and my husband quitting smoking we finally found ourselves pregnant. No sooner had we rejoiced than I "knew" something was wrong. The next day I started bleeding heavily. That evening Adrian was born. Two days later I had to go back to work. Everyone pretty much acted like it never happened.
Later that month, my fertile signs were really obvious so we kept trying, now that we had proved the doctors wrong. A few weeks later HPTs and doctors agreed that I was pregnant again. The first few weeks were very stressful, having just lost Adrian. Once I had an early ultrasound that showed my little peanut moving and with a perfect little fluttering heart, I was blissful. My pregnancy was perfect. No morning sickness. Serious aversions and cravings but nothing difficult to deal with. No spotting. Perfect blissful pregnancy. My son was born via c-section 16 days early. I spent most of my hospital stay crying because he was in NICU for low blood sugar. I didn't know to demand to breast feed him to avoid this problem. I do not remember most of his first two weeks of life. I remember him screaming for the whole ride home. I remember freaking out about the cats and kicking them outside. I remember sitting in bed rocking my son and crying. Luckily my OB caught that I had PPD. I had no idea. He put me on medication. Once it kicked in, everything was wonderful. I loved everything about having a baby, even being pooped on. I tried to wean myself off the medicine a few times. I had gotten myself off of it completely by the time I started my new job when my son was 7 months old (I had been laid off from my job when my maternity leave ended) and I was my old self again.
When I was pregnant with my second son I found myself sitting at my desk crying all day a couple months before he was born. My OB put me on meds which resolved the issue. I stayed on the meds until several months after he was born.
Then came Susannah. My sweet precious baby girl. She was a surprise baby. She was born still 1t 17 weeks 2 days after two months of problem after problem. I did not seek medication because I felt I should grieve without trying to stifle it. I went back to work much too soon. I probably got pregnant much too soon too, but after a loss like that, the drive to be pregnant again is strong when it kicks in.
Three months after Susannah was born I became pregnant again. This was a terrible pregnancy. Not because I had morning sickness or sciatica or all the other "fun" parts of pregnancy. I could barely function. I was terrified all the time. My mother had to tell me that I needed to seek help. About 2 months into the pregnancy my OB put me back on medication. It took the worst edge off the anxiety but that is all it did. The rest of the pregnancy was like carrying a time bomb in my womb. It only got worse when I found out I was having a girl. My girls were in heaven. To the last minute I could not believe I was going to get to bring a girl home with me. Thankfully I was wrong and my precious baby girl came home with me.
Throughout all of this childbearing other things happened. I found out that my husband had a lifelong addiction about which I knew nothing. This addiction manifested itself repeatedly over the years starting with the night before Everett was born and coming back at every stressful moment along the way, including when we lost Susannah. We also fell into financial difficulties between a mortgage scam, my husband's hours being cut, my new job paying less than half what my old job paid and us tyring to spend our way out of the grief after Susannah was born. We ended up losing our home a couple of years ago.
Another aspect of my depression has come from my health. Before Susannah's pregnancy I was healthy as a horse. Even though I have been fat since I was 8 years old, I had always been very healthy. Perfect blood pressure, perfect blood work. I had allergies and mild asthma. For a kid who grew up with two smokers, I got off easy. After Susannah and Lily it was like my body had it in for me. My blood pressure was suddenly high. Suddenly I had the rheumatoid arthritis with which my mother had suffered for years and my sister had recently been diagnosed. For the first time in my life I hated myself and my body and I was scared I was going to die. I had put on much more weight with the girls than I had with the boys and it didn't come back off like it had before. Getting around and trying to keep up with the kids made my heart race. I was tired all the time. When I did get up the energy to go to the club or take a walk, I would end up feeling like i was having a heart attack.
After doing Weight Watchers again as well as some other diets, I decided that I should look into getting gastric bypass. All my doctors thought it was a wonderful idea. I dove into all the meetings and conferences and testing that is required to get approved. While i was doing that, my doctor was tyring to get my BP under control. I also found a painful spot in my leg and we discovered I have Baker's Cysts in my calves. By this time I was back on antidepressants because I was having trouble concentrating at work and I had zero patience for my children. I was within 10 pounds of my doctor's goal weight for my surgery when my insurance changed. I was actually excited because it meant I could go to my friend's surgeon. After starting the whole rigmarole to get approved through the new insurance I was informed that gastric bypass was specifically excluded and would not be covered.
The straw that broke this camel's back occurred this past October. We had found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant again. I was overjoyed to be pregnant. I had the extra bonus of the pregnancy taking away my rheumatoid arthritis pain. For the first time ever my OB had to put me on progesterone. That did not bode well. I did okay not stressing as bad as I had with Lily. Unfortunately my sweet baby boy Charlie did not stay with me. The process of losing him led to me bleeding out and almost dying.
I no longer wanted to live. I looked at my babies and realized how much better off they would be without the burden of having me as their mother.
Well, that is the basic story. It doesn't cover a great may ins and outs like guilt but at least these are the fundamentals. It makes the depression make a little more sense.
God Bless all who read this.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Not doing so hot
If anyone read all the way through the previous vent, bless your heart.
Paranoia is a big facet of my depression.I have to daily convince myself that no one is trying to take away my children. I thought I was actually doing pretty well managing that aspect of the depression. Having someone I considered a good, reasonably close friend turn on me so cruelly brought that paranoia right to the surface. It was like poison and I HAD to get that poison out of my system.
Another enormous part of my depression is guilt. That is going to be the hardest thing for me to get over. My shrink is telling me to catch my negative thoughts and stop them by repeating to myself, "It's not fixed but it's not futile," which is a a phrase he pulled out of some things I said to him. What he doesn't seem to understand is the whole time he is telling me that I should stop the thoughts and then i will make progress all I can think is that I'm not worth the effort. If I just let myself sink into the depression and die, my husband would get my life insurance, which would solve financial issues, my parents would help him raise my kids, which would be better for them than me raising them. And no one else, including me, would ever have lay eyes or ears on the giant pathetic mess that is me.
So the last couple days I have been in physical pain and mental pain and they have been 4's that could be called 3's without great exaggeration.
I am praying for a 5 tomorrow. Pray with me if you've got a prayer to spare.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Paranoia is a big facet of my depression.I have to daily convince myself that no one is trying to take away my children. I thought I was actually doing pretty well managing that aspect of the depression. Having someone I considered a good, reasonably close friend turn on me so cruelly brought that paranoia right to the surface. It was like poison and I HAD to get that poison out of my system.
Another enormous part of my depression is guilt. That is going to be the hardest thing for me to get over. My shrink is telling me to catch my negative thoughts and stop them by repeating to myself, "It's not fixed but it's not futile," which is a a phrase he pulled out of some things I said to him. What he doesn't seem to understand is the whole time he is telling me that I should stop the thoughts and then i will make progress all I can think is that I'm not worth the effort. If I just let myself sink into the depression and die, my husband would get my life insurance, which would solve financial issues, my parents would help him raise my kids, which would be better for them than me raising them. And no one else, including me, would ever have lay eyes or ears on the giant pathetic mess that is me.
So the last couple days I have been in physical pain and mental pain and they have been 4's that could be called 3's without great exaggeration.
I am praying for a 5 tomorrow. Pray with me if you've got a prayer to spare.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
I want a baby and I can't have one.
I love babies. I have always loved babies. I was the kid who followed my cousins around when they had babies and held them as often and for as long as I was allowed. I actually wanted to be a nun but I knew I was supposed to be a Mama. Then I got married and tried and tried and tried to get pregnant. Then the doctor told me that I was not producing eggs and would not be able to have kids.
Luckily my DH and decided to ignore the docs and keep trying. And two years later we got pregnant with Adrian and we were so excited. Then we lost Adrian and we were devastated. And so began our child-bearing years. We got Guerren and then Everett. Then we got out God-planned surprise baby Susannah and suffered the most terrible loss parents ever could. Then we got to keep our Lily after the worst pregnancy I have ever had.
You see, when you have had a baby born still, pregnancy is no longer all fun and aches and anticipation. It is a nine month journey through fear after fear after worry after complication after nightmare. So Lily ended up born 10 days early via c-section because my BP skyrocketed to 190/112. They don't let you stay pregnant when your BP shoots that high.
No pregnancy is not longer a simple matter for us. It can be distinctly unhealthy for me. Not to mention, our finances aren't wonderful right now. So we can't just get pregnant because my uterus is tormenting me with phantom kicks and hormones.
But oh how I want to be pregnant again. Or, more correctly, oh how I want another baby. We decided long ago that we want four and we want the last before my husband turns 50. He turns 50 next year. Our youngest is out of diapers. Pregnancy will actually relieve my RA symptoms. And, oh, how I want another baby.
I miss nursing and changing diapers and rocking and gummy smiles and all the wonderful smells that accompany babies.
But I cannot have another baby right now. So will remember and wait.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
Luckily my DH and decided to ignore the docs and keep trying. And two years later we got pregnant with Adrian and we were so excited. Then we lost Adrian and we were devastated. And so began our child-bearing years. We got Guerren and then Everett. Then we got out God-planned surprise baby Susannah and suffered the most terrible loss parents ever could. Then we got to keep our Lily after the worst pregnancy I have ever had.
You see, when you have had a baby born still, pregnancy is no longer all fun and aches and anticipation. It is a nine month journey through fear after fear after worry after complication after nightmare. So Lily ended up born 10 days early via c-section because my BP skyrocketed to 190/112. They don't let you stay pregnant when your BP shoots that high.
No pregnancy is not longer a simple matter for us. It can be distinctly unhealthy for me. Not to mention, our finances aren't wonderful right now. So we can't just get pregnant because my uterus is tormenting me with phantom kicks and hormones.
But oh how I want to be pregnant again. Or, more correctly, oh how I want another baby. We decided long ago that we want four and we want the last before my husband turns 50. He turns 50 next year. Our youngest is out of diapers. Pregnancy will actually relieve my RA symptoms. And, oh, how I want another baby.
I miss nursing and changing diapers and rocking and gummy smiles and all the wonderful smells that accompany babies.
But I cannot have another baby right now. So will remember and wait.
God Bless anyone who reads this.
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