Fear

In this life after loss, fears can consume every fiber of your being. Insecurities you had beforehand that you may have outgrown with experience and maturity come back in full force, rearing a very ugly head. You are a big ball of angst, fear, self-deprecation and jealousy. Paints a pretty picture, doesn't it? 

I remember it starting in the hospital as I filled out the Labor and Delivery admittance paperwork in a fog, going through the motions still trying to process what was happening. Though plenty of other emotions had been experienced in that hour, the first time the emotion of fear crept in is when I heard my dad say that one of my parents' closest friends was heading to the hospital to sit with them, to pray with them. At that moment, I realized that our loss was now out there. It was outside of Max and me, it had moved beyond our immediate family, it was being communicated to the outside world which meant it was real. The ugly insecurity of: what are people going to think of us?! How are we going to be perceived now? Will they talk about us and speculate it was somehow our fault? Will they be afraid to be around us not knowing what to do or say? Will we be alienated and labeled as fragile? Are we now "that couple that lost their baby?" Will we be different now and never the same? In the last 11 weeks, the answer to all of these questions at one point in time has been yes. But we are still here. We have more love for each other than ever before. We are okay.

Coming home, I didn't know what I was more afraid of: when Max went back to work and I was home alone all day, or when I would go back to work and have to face people. Both thoughts terrified me and I got very worked up over it. The night before he went back to work, I didn't sleep. I cried and cried in anticipation. Then, the morning came and I tried to be brave. Max is a doer, he needs to be busy, so he needed to get back to work. I didn't want to hold him back from obtaining what he needed in his grief process. However, I couldn't fathom being alone in the house. It was like I was on maternity leave without a baby. My body going through the same things and recovering in the way that anyone's does after they have a baby, I just didn't have mine with me anymore. I laid in bed as he got ready. I held it together and told him that I wanted him to go and I was okay. Then, as soon as the back door to the garage closed, I let go of everything I was holding in. I had so much fear but also knew, I needed to face it. Those first few days, I had emotional moments that scared me because I had never felt sadness that deep before. I knew that what I was experiencing was grief and mourning, something completely foreign to me. I had been working through that process with Max, but at that time, I needed to work through those emotions on my own. I needed to be okay with myself. After those first few days, my fear of being alone was gone. In those moments that I was alone and feeling the pit of despair was where I felt closest to God and to Hudson, so I was okay with going there. I needed to go there. I conquered that fear. When the time came to face my fear of being alone, I found that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I was getting very comfortable with being alone. The only people I could stomach to be around were Max and my mom. That was my comfort zone and anything else made me panic. I call Panic the little sister of fear, and Anxiety the red-headed-step-child. I sat down to block time of what to do while I was alone so that if I needed a distraction, it was there to help me through. I thought trying to set lunch dates would be a good thing. I made it out of the house one day and had a good lunch with two friends. Then, the next day when I tried to do another lunch date, I sat in my car crying, unable to back out of the driveway. I did not want to see the world or for the world to see me - the new damaged, broken version of me. I had so much anxiety of running into someone I knew or worse, that didn't know what had happened. You forget the many people you interface with on a daily basis, and in this case the many people that saw you throughout a pregnancy. Everyone from your normal clerk at the grocery store checkout counter, to your nail salon, to a random family friend from church or someone you used to volunteer with. I avoided public places for a while because of this fear. I had to take it day by day. Some days I could do it, others, I just couldn't. I needed to go somewhere WITH someone so I had a crutch, so I wasn't alone in public, so I had someone to protect me if I needed it.  

Going back to work was terrifying. I had conquered my fear of being alone, I was getting better at getting out of the house, but now couldn't bring myself to be surrounded by people. With the exception of a few, I hadn't seen my coworkers since before our loss. The last time they saw me, I was blissfully happy and pregnant. Having to have the same confrontation every time I saw someone was daunting. Knowing that I was going to receive "that look" - the look I'm sure I have given hundreds of time. The look given to someone grieving. One that is meant to convey "I am so sorry, I am here for you, I care" but instead, when you are on the receiving side, it is a trigger of tears and the agonizing feeling that they think of you now as a different person, a fragile person. Which you are, you know you are, but you don't want to come to grips with that. My work family took every precaution possible to help make my transition back to work as uplifting and helpful as they could. While it was difficult to look people in the eye and force a smile, as each week went by, it got a little better and a little easier. My first day/week/month back was difficult, but it wasn't as tough as I had worked it up to be in my head.

I still had not experienced the awkward encounter of running into someone out in public but my anxiety was at an all time high in anticipation. One Thursday, a member of my team had the idea to get away for lunch. I welcomed the idea because I needed that time out of the office for a bit. We went down the street and as we ate, a woman approached our table, she was a family friend of my coworker. When she walked up, I realized that I knew her, she was the aunt of one of my childhood friends and growing up, I knew her as "Aunt Cory" (changing the name here, just in case). As my coworker introduced us, I told her that it had been several years, but we had actually met before. I was Ann and Mike's daughter, we lived down the street from her brother and I grew up with her nieces and nephews. And then she said "oh! yes, I remember you. You just lost your baby didn't you?" It was in the tone of someone asking you a question such as "did you just move," or "did you just get a new job?" My coworker nearly dropped her glass and I just stared at this woman. She continued on saying that she read about it on the internet or something [Facebook] and that it is just awful (complete with the one handed flap motion). She continued talking and I continued staring at her, hoping my jaw had not hit the ground completely yet as she felt the need to say things like, "I just can't imagine. I mean, I have four children, and I just couldn't imagine," and "you know, you should talk to so and so. They lost their baby at 8 months pregnant. I'm leaving to go out of town in a few days, but I'll see if someone else can make that introduction for you." Then, as another woman approached the table, she had to let that woman know that I had just lost my baby. Finally, she returned to her table two down from ours to let the rest of those women know that the girl over there that she was talking to, she just lost her baby. This is definitely the cliffs notes version. The entire episode went on for probably close to 15 minutes.

It was an atrocious situation. Somehow, I responded with dignity. I used my yes ma'ams and no ma'ams. I bit my tongue and held myself together. Once she walked away, my sweet coworker was ready to rush me out of there, to do something to undo what had just happened. But I was okay, I didn't even cry. I felt more sorry for that woman who doesn't possess any tact. I called my mom that day on my way home and shared the story. WE LAUGHED. Yes, we laughed about it and she said - well honey, you made it through the worst possible scenario of that kind of encounter that you were afraid of. Look how you handled it! You got through it and while it was bad, it wasn't as hard on your heart as you thought it would be.

One of my biggest fears was getting through his due date. The week was approaching and again, red-headed-step-child Anxiety was taking over my heart and mind. We chose to intern his ashes on Saturday, July 18 (the original due date given) as a way to honor him and feel close to him. I couldn't sleep all week. I had so much anxiety about how I would feel, how my husband would feel, how we were going to get through this milestone. The night before was rough and I was a mess. The morning came and it was a beautiful day. On the way out the door, we decided to bring our pup, George, to see his brother. We arrived at the church and stood in the beautiful columbarium garden, seeing his plaque with his beautiful name for the first time. Receiving the ashes we had requested for the first time. Our pastor lead a brief ceremony and prayed with us, then left Max, George and me to have time on our own. The rest of the day was beautiful as we enjoyed time relaxing with one another. We made it through and the day was not as terrible as I had let my mind believe it to be.

I am sitting at 11 weeks out from the day we lost Hudson. These are just a few of the 234,873 fears that have entered my being in that time and have made me anxious. I still have fears of upcoming life situations and sometimes they are all that consume my thoughts. I work myself up with anxiety in anticipation for something I don't feel like I can do. And then it happens. We make it through, we survived it and it gives us just a little ounce of additional strength to help keep building on. Some of my fears I can't help but conquer because a situation arises that you can't run from. Others, I can be in control of and I need to take my time to get there. At some point though, I will fully conquer this thing called fear and stifle the anxiety that comes with it.