The complexity of “How are you?”

So many things to write about. I have an idea for a blog post at least twice, sometimes three days a week. So, why has it been so long since I wrote. Well, life is busy. That’s not really an excuse.....maybe more of a fact. I just don’t have the time to write like I would like to. 

But here I am. Finally with a few minutes.....

I had a conversation with someone recently. She was telling me a story about someone she knew who had something terrible happen to her. She said the woman told her about being asked how she was doing several months after. The woman talked about how much she appreciated someone checking on her, even when it may have been an uncomfortable or loaded question....  

“How are you?” 

Sometimes that can be a loaded question. Sometimes it is a question people don’t want to ask because they are afraid of the answer. 

The person I was talking to said she took an important lesson from that conversation. A lesson I learned a long time ago. 

People generally are nervous about asking how someone is after a challenging time.....death, illness, traumatic event......because they don’t want to “remind them of what happened by asking.” I have had people say that to me. They wanted to ask how I was doing after each of our losses. Or even today....more than three years after our last. But they didn’t want to remind me of what happened....especially after the last one.....

Didn’t want to remind me......

I never forget.

Not a day goes by that I don’t remember. I know exactly what happened to us. I’m never going to forget. I cannot forget, nor do I really want to. 

So, you asking me how I am doing, is not going to being back a rush of bad memories. It is not going to plunge me back into a depressive state. I promise. 

Asking me how I am doing is nice. For a few minutes the weight of it lifts a little. Even now. 

Never be afraid to ask. You never know when you might be asking someone how they are just when they need you to the most. 

You will always have to do the work....

I do the work everyday. It has become part of my life. Sometimes I do not even realize I am doing the work.....but I am. 

The work is what keeps me going. Keeps me upright. Keeps me focused on the here and now. And keeps me from slipping backwards into the dark. 

When things are humming along and life is good, the work is easy. However, as I recently discovered, getting a little lax with the work can allow the dark to creep back in when it is maybe not expected. 

Today marks three years since our last loss. The scariest loss. The one that landed me on the operating table for three hours and gave me the scar I see in the mirror every day. Last year at this time I was ok. The day actually kind of snuck up on me and passed without much anxiety. This year is different. 

Last year I didn’t have much going on related to my health. Life was good. Things were moving along and I was continuing to do the work to keep the darkness at bay. But because life was good, the work wasn’t much of an effort. 

This year I am coming off of some....call it things.....and decisions about my health and the treatment of my endometriosis. After my June, 2016 surgery to remove a giant cyst and clean up the discovered endometriosis I endured 6 months of Lupron treatment. Then, after talking to Dr. D, weighed my options about management of it going forward, but didn’t really make a decision. Looking back on it, I am fairly sure I just didn’t want to give into the fact that, in order to treat my endometriosis, our journey to have a baby was over. The most effective treatments and pain management were birth control options. I just wasn’t ready. 

So I put the decision off. Until the pain creeped back and I endured it for so many months until I just couldn’t take it any more. I called Dr. D and was diagnosed with another cyst that had to be removed. 

I had that surgery this past December. It was successful. The cyst causing my pain was gone. But with it they had to take my left ovary and my left Fallopian Tube.....the only one I had left. Our journey was effectively over. 

That is a lot to take in. I tried not to let it take over as I approached surgery. I knew before surgery what was going to happen. I prepared myself for it. But it caused me to have to do some more work. Step up my game, if you will. 

I started to notice I was more sensitive to pregnant women. That is something that is always a struggle, but it seemed like all of the sudden they were everywhere and I had no escape. (sounds crazy, I know, but that is the best way I can describe it). I started to dwell on the “why us’s” that always stick in the back of my mind, but can usually ignore. My emotions were/are all over the place. And then I realized this day was coming and the anxiety started creeping in.

But I know how to handle it, thanks in no small part to a fantastic therapist and the amazing support of family and friends. I know how to deal with the anxiety and push the “why us’s” back to their hiding place. I know how to regroup and keep focused on the things that are here and now, not the tragedy of our journey. It just takes a little more work sometimes. 

So I am doing it. 

Breathing. 

Focusing. 

Writing. 

Remembering, but not dwelling. 

Living. 

Loving. 

February 15th will always be a reminder of the day we lost our last baby and the day my husband and our son could have lost me. It is a heavy day. But I have the tools to get through it. And I will always use them.