the memorial of the memorial
the memorial service for hans was a year ago today. i was thinking about it earlier this morning, driving home from taking justin to work. it took us 2 1/2 weeks to get a memorial service together. the shock of losing hans put everything into slow motion those first weeks, and every time we sat down at the kitchen table to work on the plans, they seemed incomprehensible. but we made it. my friend kath called every community center and public space she could think of to check availability and cost, and my mom (who stayed with us from when she arrived a couple of hours before the delivery until the day after the memorial) coaxed us along, asking us questions to try to get us thinking - she must have been so annoyed with us, even though she understood why we were impossibly inert - and a couple of friends and justin's extended family provided a staggering amount of food and drink, and it happened.
we made it through that day, even sailed. we were amazed by all the people that showed up to acknowledge hans and support us. i am still amazed when anyone other than us acknowledges hans, but it still happens.
david came over the day before hans's birthday with birthday presents from their family: rubber duckies, a bubble blowing kit, an indoor flower garden (justin has planted the seeds for the garden and is trying to will them to germination). catherine sent me the bracelet for hans that i wear every day, and deadbabymama and daddy sent a card with a long note. a few people who aren't the parents of departed children remembered, too: both my mom and justin's crazy aunt sent cards with checks for hans's memorial scholarship fund, my sister sent a card, and justin's mom had a plate made, a quasi-delft thing personalized with hans's full name, birth date, weight and length.
so we made it through the anniversary of his death and here we are at the anniversary of his memorial. on tuesday, it will be the one year anniversary of this blog. that day was the first day we were alone since the horrible moment we learned hans's heart was no longer beating. another milestone.
another anniversary coming up: the anniversary of the period in which i thought about killing myself. actually, the anniversary of when i started thinking about it has already passed; just the anniversary of when i stopped thinking of it remains. it's on my mind because of my current struggle with depression and because of the conversation justin and i had friday night after watching "in her shoes," which justin only agreed to at the video store because i agreed to some czech comedy (and my limited experience with czech comedies is that they are not comedic at all). the movie actually was not quite as fluffy as either of us expected, but what was pointed for us was that the sisters who are the central characters lost their mother at an early age because she had mental health problems and she took her own life.
after the movie, justin asked me how i felt about it and admitted he was afraid for me. i understand that my depression affects both of us, but i don't think i realized how much it affected him, how much it scares him, how heavy the burden he carries is. i tried to reassure him that my desire to end my own life was the result of the grief i felt last year and not a feature of my usual depression, and that it certainly wasn't part of what i'm experiencing now. i hope he's comforted, too, by the fact that i told him what i was feeling then, to make myself accountable to someone and because i didn't want to do it. thinking about it and planning to do it are two different things; i certainly thought about it, but if i had made actual plans, i would not have told anyone, so that no one could thwart me. i wanted to be thwarted if i got that far.
but i'm calling for a psych referral tomorrow morning. it's one thing for me to try to be tough for another five months (plus whatever postpartum period) - and a debatably wise thing, at that; it's another thing to wear justin out with worry and with the responsibility for everything around here, since when i am most depressed i am least capable of even putting my dirty clothes anywhere other than where they fall when they come off. i need help, and we need help. we need to not be spending the beginning days of little z's life trying to dig out of the depths of my despair.
and i'm beginning to really expect, to anticipate those first days of z's life. i had a talk with z this morning about how long he or she had been cooking and how long we had to go. we're starting to plan for z's room, a little, and about what to do with the futon currently in there (we're trying to figure out how to turn a very large closet into a guest-pod/tv space, inspired by our recent trip to tokyo). we've started talking about when to go get the baby gear currently stored in mike and kath's attic (we're thinking late may, when i finish the school semester, and we'll be into the third trimester). i'm starting to get excited. :)
i don't want to be sad in the midst of all this joy, though. i know too well how easy it is for sadness and joy to co-exist, but there's no good reason for the sadness. i want to focus on the joy.
we made it through that day, even sailed. we were amazed by all the people that showed up to acknowledge hans and support us. i am still amazed when anyone other than us acknowledges hans, but it still happens.
david came over the day before hans's birthday with birthday presents from their family: rubber duckies, a bubble blowing kit, an indoor flower garden (justin has planted the seeds for the garden and is trying to will them to germination). catherine sent me the bracelet for hans that i wear every day, and deadbabymama and daddy sent a card with a long note. a few people who aren't the parents of departed children remembered, too: both my mom and justin's crazy aunt sent cards with checks for hans's memorial scholarship fund, my sister sent a card, and justin's mom had a plate made, a quasi-delft thing personalized with hans's full name, birth date, weight and length.
so we made it through the anniversary of his death and here we are at the anniversary of his memorial. on tuesday, it will be the one year anniversary of this blog. that day was the first day we were alone since the horrible moment we learned hans's heart was no longer beating. another milestone.
another anniversary coming up: the anniversary of the period in which i thought about killing myself. actually, the anniversary of when i started thinking about it has already passed; just the anniversary of when i stopped thinking of it remains. it's on my mind because of my current struggle with depression and because of the conversation justin and i had friday night after watching "in her shoes," which justin only agreed to at the video store because i agreed to some czech comedy (and my limited experience with czech comedies is that they are not comedic at all). the movie actually was not quite as fluffy as either of us expected, but what was pointed for us was that the sisters who are the central characters lost their mother at an early age because she had mental health problems and she took her own life.
after the movie, justin asked me how i felt about it and admitted he was afraid for me. i understand that my depression affects both of us, but i don't think i realized how much it affected him, how much it scares him, how heavy the burden he carries is. i tried to reassure him that my desire to end my own life was the result of the grief i felt last year and not a feature of my usual depression, and that it certainly wasn't part of what i'm experiencing now. i hope he's comforted, too, by the fact that i told him what i was feeling then, to make myself accountable to someone and because i didn't want to do it. thinking about it and planning to do it are two different things; i certainly thought about it, but if i had made actual plans, i would not have told anyone, so that no one could thwart me. i wanted to be thwarted if i got that far.
but i'm calling for a psych referral tomorrow morning. it's one thing for me to try to be tough for another five months (plus whatever postpartum period) - and a debatably wise thing, at that; it's another thing to wear justin out with worry and with the responsibility for everything around here, since when i am most depressed i am least capable of even putting my dirty clothes anywhere other than where they fall when they come off. i need help, and we need help. we need to not be spending the beginning days of little z's life trying to dig out of the depths of my despair.
and i'm beginning to really expect, to anticipate those first days of z's life. i had a talk with z this morning about how long he or she had been cooking and how long we had to go. we're starting to plan for z's room, a little, and about what to do with the futon currently in there (we're trying to figure out how to turn a very large closet into a guest-pod/tv space, inspired by our recent trip to tokyo). we've started talking about when to go get the baby gear currently stored in mike and kath's attic (we're thinking late may, when i finish the school semester, and we'll be into the third trimester). i'm starting to get excited. :)
i don't want to be sad in the midst of all this joy, though. i know too well how easy it is for sadness and joy to co-exist, but there's no good reason for the sadness. i want to focus on the joy.
posted by laura at 9:58 AM
10 Comments:
You know, I thought about the memorial this morning; as I was walking outside (so as to avoid coworker eye or chatty contact) -- then I flashed back to my first day back at work, almost a month after the memorial, where I walked underground.
I was just completely horrified that all eyes were on me - and wondering how these people, many of whom annoy the living shit out of me in the best circumstances, would treat me. And for a few weeks, office doors locked, but still hoping that someone would say something, anything, even "hello", it remained completely silent.
It was spooky.
The thing is, however, when we were sitting in front of almost 200 people at the memorial - I wasn't at all worried about all eyes being on me. Nor was I worried about anyone would treat me.
Maybe it was the Zanex? Or maybe it was just a Zen moment.
There's a story in the San Francisco Chronicle today about stillbirth that actually dares to ask, 'When are we going to find out why it happens? And when will we start talking about it?' You're the first people I thought of.
http://tinyurl.com/mnf39
Oh guys. I can't really understand what you're talking about except to say that I spent many a day pre-pregnancy, post-realizing my doctor had done a very very bad thing to me fantasizing about downing my pain pills and sleeping pills in one gulp. And Cory was really scared about what would happen post-partum.
It's really scary, but you want help. You want to control it. You do not want to sink into it. You will seek help and Justin will help you. You have to believe that. Have you read dooce.com? She struggled with depression and ultimately had to chuck breastfeeding for meds. You will do what you have to, I know you will, and Justin is strong enough to help you. You are so lucky to have each other.
And good for you for the joy. You're just doing the best you can to milk all of the happiness you can out of a scary situation and I can't tell you how much I admire you for it. I can't wait to see a picture of Miss Z. And the big smile on your face. That will come back a couple weeks after she arrives. ;)
You're both very strong and grounded. I'm sorry you have to worry and think about all of this, but it's because you're thinking about it and working it out that I hope you feel just a little bit like you'll be ok.
My heart aches for you for all you've been through, but I am so proud of you for realizing that you need help. Joy and sorrow, happiness and grief, they can live side by side. I can't speak for the stress and sorrow of losing Hans, but I can speak of the stress and depression that can be related to a "normal" delivery with a healthy child. And it can be horrifying. I feel as though I missed the first 2 weeks of my little boys life because of the mountain I was hiding under. I eventually got through it (with meds!) but I still look back with sadness at so much I should have enjoyed but at the time couldn't.
Good luck, please know our thoughts and prayers are with you always (even if I rarely comment).
Just wanted to say I'm hear, I'm reading, I'm listening, I'm wishing you peace.
A wise woman told me (okay, my mother), "If you spend your entire pregnancy worrying, you'll look back and wish you had enjoyed it." She was right.
My reasons for worry were different, but I understand it's hard to focus on the joy. I still found a little time for my fears, even with the complications. But I made a point to concentrate each day on the joy, even if just for a little while.
Thinking of you and wishing your peace.
I dreamed about Hans last night, now I know why.
I wish you more than luck finding help, I wish you success in finding and holding on to whatever kind of peace you need .
There is good reason for the sadness you feel and equally good reason for the joy. As you already know they do and can co-exist. Kudos to you for seeking some additional support from therapy through this may it bring you some small relief from the storm.
It does sound like some additional support may be very helpful for you. To all of you really! Hugs,
I wish I could understand what you're going through but my own experience with real depression is pretty much zero. I can only hope that you do somehow find that you can focus on the joy and that you do have genuine caring friends who will support you all the way.
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