Therapy, Prayers and Symptoms

We are all aware that I will be getting the best medical care in the state of Ohio, however there was one aspect of my journey that my OB's nurse was concerned about. Although Dr. C (My high risk doc (MFM)) will be medically the best, the office is so busy, and see so many patients, that my OB (Dr. P) and her nurse (Shar) are worried I wouldn't have the personal attention I crave. In my OBs office, they are so friendly and will let me talk to them for an hour or more at visits. They have been so understanding and supportive, and they are truly afraid that the new MFM office may not do the same. If you know me I LOVE to talk, and when things are bothering me, or making me nervous, I tend to talk even more. So, Shar suggested that if I wasn't already seeing a therapist, that it would be a good idea to start.

Well, I never stopped seeing my therapist. She has been a God send! It is great to have someone listen to me without interruption and focus only on my problems for a whole hour. I was so excited to actually bring her good news this yesterday.

Foster doesn't share my views on therapy. He thinks I should be "cured" now. He thinks that still seeing a therapist is somehow a bad sign, or a sign of weakness. I tried to explain to him that I just like talking to her and it made me feel so much better every time I left. We talk about my nightmares that I still have on almost a nightly basis, we talk about my feelings and now my fears for this new baby. Foster claims that he is here for me to talk to also, but I tried to explain to him that it is not the same.

I have to admit, getting told I was not deploying was a HUGE factor in my anxiety relief. I felt like there was this HUGE weight lifted off my chest, and that I could breathe for the first time since Rosalynn died. I was finally able to focus on her and my healing as opposed to getting prepared to ship out. Also, I am slightly surprised at the LACK of anxiety about this pregnancy. If I had gotten pregnant right after our loss, I would have probably requested to be admitted to the mental ward for 9 months. Now, I think I am ready. I think I am emotionally and physically prepared for whatever is going to happen with my little pumpkin. Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments, but it is definitely as bad as I had expected. I am sure that will change the closer to the end in the third trimester.

I am realistic this time around. I WISH I was still naive about pregnancy, but I know better now. I know that one in four pregnancies end in a miscarriage, so I am not out of the woods with that. I also know the statistics for stillbirth and almost all the causes for it. Along with this awareness, I have such a better appreciation for each day that passes that I am still pregnant with Pumpkin. It is a miracle....a TRUE miracle! Every night at dinner, Foster and I start our prayers by saying "Thank you God for letting us be pregnant another day". That is how I am doing this, the same way I dealt with Rosie's death; second by second, minute by minute, day by day, and hopefully eventually week by week.

One thing I promise to you all here and now, is that you will never hear me complain. Not about nausea and vomiting, pain, headaches, or anything else. If I ever mention a symptom, it will be to inform everyone what I am experiencing right now, or to ask advice if something is normal. Other than that, I will embrace this pregnancy and everything it has to throw at me with open arms, for God has answered my prayers and I will eternally be grateful for that.

2 weeks from today I will be having my first U/S. Today I am officially 5 weeks pregnant!! Please, your prayers are still very much appreciated!

Symptoms up to week 5:
Low blood sugar feeling if I haven't eaten in a while.
HUGE boobs and sore
the slight pangs of growth in my belly...not painful, just twinges from time to time.

Bittersweet....My Deployment Status

Yesterday was filled with all sorts of emotions. Usually, when drill comes along, I can put on a "happy face" and get through the two days. I had accomplished this on Saturday. However, standing in line for my weigh in on Sunday, our new First Seargent walked by and asked how the weigh in was going. I said, "Well, this is the first month I can't claim post-partum as an excuse," and laughed uncomfortably.  I figured since I had asked for the command to be informed about my loss, not for sympathy, but so they may be a little more understanding, I just assumed that he already knew.

Well, you know what they say when you assume..."You make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'." Boy did I!

He looked at me with a smile on his face and said, "Well, congratulations! Did you have a girl or a boy?"

I know it was not his fault. I know he didn't know, but tears started welling up in my eyes, and I responded, "No First Sergent, we lost my daughter Rosalynn around 35 weeks."

The look on his face was of pure guilt and horror. He told me to walk with him and explain my story. So I did, and he informed me that his family has gone through a similar loss, and he knows the feelings and pain. He said that he was truly sorry and if there was anything he could do, to let him know. I mentioned the botched paperwork for my discharge and how I was in process of trying to get policies to reflect more of the active duty regulations in regards to stillbirth, "Well, we can take a look at those papers and see if we can still get you out of here if that is what you want."

I didn't know how to react to this. For 9 months all I have been told is "No". I have been told that there was no way I could get out, no matter what my papers said, or who made the mistakes. How can one man be so confident that he can change that?!?! I instantaneously liked this man. Not because he can get me out, but because he said that he would do whatever he could to help! That is the first time in nine months I had heard those words from someone other than my immediate NCO channel. They have all cared and tried, but when it got to a certain level, no one seemed to care.

Now, I must admit, after seething for so long, I have come to the realization that getting "out" is not necessarily what I want. I am not a quitter, and I have a contract to uphold. As the pain is getting easier to bear from losing Rosie, I feel more and more like a soldier. Now, this is not to say I am in any way mentally or emotionally ready to deploy. I am not at any point where I can be relied on to save a life or be under high amounts of stress. This is another reason I think the Regular Active Duty Army has their stuff together. Their policy would allow a soldier to return to duty after 18-24 months of the loss. This gives them time to grieve and get back into shape emotionally AND physically.

I went back to the bathroom to resume my weigh-in, and tears were just streaming. You fellow baby loss moms are farmiliar with the fact that once it starts, once a trigger has caused the flood gates to open, it is almost impossible to stop them, and the rest of the day is a struggle!

About 2 hours later, First Sergeant stood in front of all of us and started calling out the names of the Forward attachment, those soldiers that would be going overseas. I was nervous, my hands started sweating, my legs started to go numb as I sat there in the classroom just waiting for my name to be called. I felt the tears starting again, and I felt as if I was going to pass out. As I heard each name called and each person stand up to file downstairs for their initial briefing, I just knew it was a matter of time before they called my name, and I was terrified that I would collapse when I heard it. On Friday I had noticed that my medical status had gone back to "Green" on my online account. I figured since the pregnancy was all cleared, that there was no reason for me to be in the red any more.

More and more names were called, and then he stopped, glanced through his list one more time, and then said, "Well, that is it. The rest of you are on the rear detachment. This will not change unless YOU want it to. If you get your issues cleared up in time, then we can get you put on the forward, however, as of right now, this is how it stands. Does anyone have a question to why they are on the rear?"

I know I had a look of confusion in my eyes, but I was not going to raise my hand, because I didn't want my reason to be announced in front of everyone since I didn't know what the reason was myself. However, my startled look did not go unnoticed, and after First Sergeant was done, one of the Lieutenants called me over. She and I have been friends for a while. We went to ROTC together, she lived with me for a couple months, and we have remained close (outside of uniform of course). Of everyone in my unit, she probably knows me better than anyone. She pulled me aside and asked me if I knew why this happened. I admitted that I didn't and she explained, "Major **** (my old commander) entered into the system that you were suffering from Postpartum Depression, and that it was neither in your best interest or the units best interest to have you accompany us. We want to make sure that you are ok and that you are taken care of. This is not something you should have to be worrying about so soon after your loss."

I was stunned, relieved, and a little embarrassed. I started crying again. LT's eyes started getting red as it seemed like she was holding back tears, "Are those tears of relief?" she asked.

"I think so," I said, with a small chuckle. "I had no idea," I said, "I have been in this awful place of the unknown for the past 5 months. Anxiety and depression have been my biggest enemies since finding out about this deployment, and now I can relax. However, is it natural to feel a little guilty at the same time?"

My feelings of guilt stemmed from the fact that someone else has to go in my place. Someone else has to leave their family and friends and put themselves in harm's way. What if something happens to that person? I know I will never know the exact person who took my place, however, I will always wonder. I just pray every single person comes back safe and sound!

It is so weird how the emotions are different than last deployment. I was put on the rear for our tour to Iraq because I was pregnant. I was originally on the forward, but 2 months later got that positive pregnancy test. I was devastated. I wanted to go, and instead of guilt and relief, there was only disappointment and anger. Well, 3 months before the deployment, it was canceled. So, there is a lot that can happen in the next months, but regardless, I will be home safe to focus on the rest of my journey through grieving and healing. Thank you all for your prayers and support, and I ask for you to continue to pray for the men and women of my unit that will be risking their lives. I know that if I remain in, that my time will eventually come, and I know at that point, I will be ready to go and make everyone proud.

Rosie is My Crutch!

I had someone recently tell me not to use my loss as a crutch and that I "have to get over it sometime." This person was speaking particularly to my incident with SGT Knowitall, but I got the feeling they were also referring to any future encounters also. A crutch is defined as "A staff or support used by the physically injured or disabled as an aid in walking, usually designed to fit under the armpit and often used in pairs." or "anything that serves as a means to an end. ex: He uses drugs as a psychological crutch." (Freedictionary.com). Seeing both of these definitions, this person did not use the word crutch properly. For one, as much as I would love to, I cannot physically use my daughter to hold me up, she is buried 6 feet under, but emotionally she does hold me up and keep my strong. Her, along with Foster keep me going, because I highly doubt she wants to watch her mommy fall apart and crawl into a hole and die from her view in heaven. Second, as a means to an end, I am using her but in a positive way. I have my first meeting with the Non-Profit group founder this week, and we are going to discuss my role in this organization. Also, I am in the process of writing a letter to our Senator and OSU Medical Center to argue my case about the National Guard Regulation and OSU policy. I am using my daughter and my experience as a means to an end. That end will be when no other woman has to worry about money or work or discharge from the Army, if God forbid another woman has to experience this.

I believe what the outspoken person was trying to tell me was not to use my daughters death as justification for all of my words and actions. I hate to break it to you, but probably 75% of what I do on a daily basis revolves around Rosie. My thoughts are always one her, the way I feel, the reason I adore and love my husband even more than before, my appreciation for friends and family, the way I can truly feel for someone else who suffers a loss, even the loss of a dog. Do I blame all of this on my loss? YES! April 20th 2010 has been an extreme pivitol point in my life. As I have mentioned before, there is the Erin prior to that date, and the Erin after that date. They are two totally different people. If anyone has a problem with that, be my guest to walk away and not speak to me again, because this is who I am now. I am closer to God, stronger in my faith, I am more aware of people's feelings, more appreciative of the little things in life, and realize how much life truly is a miracle which is taken for granted too often.

Of course there are things that I am not completely happy with in this new person. I was very outgoing and would rather be out with others than cooped up at home. Now I would rather stay home with Foster than go any where. I used to not worry about stupid things, but now I worry about losing loved ones. I also feel so guilty about my reactions to close friends and loved ones finding out they are pregnant and having babies. I am ecstatic when a new announcement is made, but then this little ugly voice in the back of my head goes, "Why does she get a healthy baby and I did not?" Not that I would wish this pain or suffering on my worst enemy, but I just wish I had had that happy ending too. When a new pregnancy announcement is made, I have to admit beneath my happiness for these women is a little bit of jealousy, and I feel awful for this. I also instantly start praying for that person to have a happy, successful pregnancy, because NOW I know that the first trimester is not the only threat. I see the wonderful naive happiness these women have being pregnant and I know I will NEVER have that again in a pregnancy because of my loss of Rosie.

In response to this person's comment about getting over it, I won't, and I hope I never do. That was my daughter! Unless you have been through the loss of a loved one, particularly a child, it is not something you get over. You learn to live with the pain, and it gets easier and easier every day, however, you have a permanent hole in your heart that every once in a while likes to ache so bad that you feel like you can't breath. These pains come without notice, and unfortunately, people like SGT Knowitall feel the backlash. As I mentioned in that entry, I felt immediately bad for using my daughter's death in a way to shut someone up, but sometimes it needs to be done. It raises awareness that you do not always know the path someone has walked and the life they have lived, and judgment is not ours but something only God has the right to do.

Please do not let this entry fool you into thinking I am angry with this person. They just do not understand and I am trying to raise a little awareness. I am pretty good at verbally justifying myself, but I feel, especially lately, I am better with words when they are written down, and I know this person will read this blog and hopefully think twice before opening their mouth to a person who is hurting, me or anyone else.

Serenity

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

I am sure this is a prayer that all of you have heard at one time or another. However, to some people this prayer has a lot of meaning. Alcoholics Anonymous members use this prayer with their twelve step program. When I was about 13 years old, my father recited this prayer to me. At the time, it didn't mean much to me, but over the next 15 years it would pop up at the most challenging times in my life.

Basic training was pretty easy for me. The physical aspect was a little challenging, but as the days went on, it became second nature to run three to five miles in the morning, get very little sleep at night, and see through the psychological games the drill sergeants tried to play with us. I was 26 when I joined, so I was mentally stronger than the younger members, and was completely prepared for anything the Drill Sergeants could throw my way, or so I thought.

One evening, as we were all getting ready for bed, one of the Drill Sergeants decided to do an inspection of our lockers. He opened one girl's locker and found a dirty band-aid on one of her shelves. Instead of punishing just this one soldier, he decided to make all of us pay for her mistake. The Drill Sergeant ordered us to all pack up our lockers, haul our gear down three flights of stairs, and be on the drill floor in formation in five minutes. If we were unable to do this, there would be consequences. He knew very well that it would be virtually impossible to pack up all our equipment and uniforms and be on the drill floor in five minutes. Sure enough, five minutes pass, and most of us are still packing up our lockers. I happened to be halfway out the door when he stopped us, and made us all get down and start doing push ups with all of the gear on our back. When he was done punishing us, we formed up downstairs, and he then started his stopwatch again after telling us we had seven minutes to unpack all of our gear and put it perfectly back into our lockers. If we were unable to do this, we would have to repeat the process all over again.

No one was able to put their lockers back in order, so of course we had to pack everything back up, and head back downstairs. This continued for at least five cycles. The Drill Sergeant even threatened to make us sleep outside if we were unable to follow these simple instructions in the amount of time given. This is the first time I ever got frustrated at Basic training. I was so upset, I started to cry on the fourth trip back up the stairs. It was going on eleven PM, and we got up every morning at four AM. I wanted to go to sleep, I wanted to be left alone, and at this point, I wanted to perform violent actions on the girl who left the used band-aid in her locker. Now that I look back, I understand that it was not that girl's fault. If the band-aid had not been there, the Drill Sergeant would have found some other excuse to use this form of punishment on us that night.

As I was packing up my locker in fast forward speed, crying and trying not to beat someone up, a book fell out of my duffel bag. It was the prayer book my mom had given me before I left for basic. It fell open, and the prayer that was looking up at me from the page was the Serenity Prayer. I immediately stopped crying, calmed down, and just went along for the ride. I realized at that moment, that no matter what I did, I had no control over the situation, could not change it, and must accept it. Eventually, when the Drill Sergeant tired of his entertainment for the evening, he let us all go back upstairs and go to bed.

A few months later, I was again training for the military. I was in San Antonio studying to be a medic. My bunk mate, Flea, and I made a pact at the beginning of the school cycle that we were going to help each other out. I wanted to graduate valedictorian of our class of four hundred, and she wanted to graduate with the highest physical training score. If I accomplished my goal, I would earn a medal, if she accomplished her goal, she would earn a patch and recognition of being the strongest in the company. We both were well on our way to attaining our goals until one fateful night.

Flea and I had just finished our last test in EMT training. I had gotten the highest score on the test, and she had just gotten her best score on the physical training test. We decided we wanted to go out and celebrate by shopping and eating wings and watching Ohio State football. We left the bar in plenty of time to make curfew, but our driver took a wrong turn. When we pulled up to our barracks, we had three minutes to make it to our bunks. As we bolted across the drill floor, heading to the door to our barracks, a female sergeant who hated both of us made us stop and start doing push-ups. Although our phones said we had three minutes, she decided that we were late, and needed to be made an example of. Up until this point, neither one of us had gotten in trouble. We were both known as the goody-two-shoes in the company, and this sergeant was ecstatic to ruin this reputation.

After an hour of getting "smoked", she promised us there would be more punishment to come. The problem with this, is that I would not be able to receive my medal if I had any negative activity on my record. I dreaded what would happen all week. She decided that our punishment would be that the following Saturday we would have to stay in the barracks as opposed to going off base like all the other soldiers. We would have to surrender our civilian clothes, wear our uniforms, and sign in the office every hour on the hour. We also had to sign negative counseling statements that would go into our record, and ultimately prevent me from graduating "Distinguished Honor Grad", and prevent Flea from getting the recognition she deserved, "High Female PT".

While we were carrying out our punishment, we popped in a movie titled "Mr. Brooks". The opening scene starts with this man reciting the Serenity Prayer. I was once again reminded that I had no control over the situation, and I needed to accept that. However, I did have control over how well I would do the rest of the school cycle. It was at that moment that I decided I would not allow this sergeant to get me down or destroy my goal, even if I would not get the recognition. The rest of the term, I studied hard, dealt with more harassment from this woman, and kept my spirits up. The day they announced who would be leading our class in graduation, to my surprise, they announced my name! I was confused. The negative counseling I had received should have prevented me from obtaining this title. I inquired with my platoon sergeant, and he explained that the statements for all of the people involved with that punishment had mysteriously gone missing.

The day of graduation, the female sergeant came up to me and asked, "Who did you bribe to get this honor?"

"You, sergeant. Didn't you get the check in your mailbox?" I responded with a slight smile on my face.

"Well done Finneran! You deserve it," she said as she patted my back and walked off with a grin on her face. I found out that she had done all of this to see if I would give up. She wanted to see if I would still try my hardest knowing I would not get the reward in the end. Because I heard the Serenity Prayer, I did NOT give up, and continued to try my hardest even though I thought I would not get the medal.

This weekend my family endured another tragedy. JJ's mom, Mama JJ, passed away. She has been battling with pancreatic cancer for months, and decided to give up the fight and go home to our Father. She is one of the most amazing and giving women I know. She was vibrant, always laughing and smiling, and close to Jesus. She had grace and beauty up until the very end. Mama JJ took care of everyone, and put everyone before herself. She was so too young. I have to admit that I was slowly becoming angry for the first time since losing Rosalynn. They say that a miracle happens following the death of a child, and I was praying that since my child did not have the chance to live, that God would grant Mama JJ an additional 25 years with her family and friends here on Earth. I know it is up to God to make these decisions, and miracles do not always come in the form we ask for, but I could not help but hope this prayer would be answered.

As I was walking into the church for Mama JJ's memorial service, I was asking the question "Why?" I was actually getting a bit angry. The night before I had watched Papa JJ sob and become weak with sorrow. I had watched my best friend cry and mourn the death of her mother. This did not have to happen! If God had just granted us a miracle, we would not have to say goodbye to this loving, amazing woman. I signed the guest book at the entrance of the church, and picked up the prayer card. The blessed mother Mary was on the front, and on the back was, as you guessed, the Serenity Prayer. I started to cry. As I read it, I realized there was no reason to be mad at God. I realized that no matter how much I prayed or hoped, I have no control over this situation, that it is all in God's hands. That I have to take this world as it is, and not as I would have it. I have to trust that He will make all things right, and He will bring peace to our hearts in this difficult time.

I do have control over how I proceed from here. I will be the best friend I can be for JJ. I can keep my promise to Mama JJ to help look after JJ and help her through this grief. I will be an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on, and even a punching bag to hit if she needs it. I love JJ and her family as my own, and will do anything they need. I just pray that this is the end, that there is no more tragedy from here on out. Instead, we need some hope and a little light in this family. However, if this is not the end, I know I can't change anything, but will continue to remain strong in my faith and close to my family.

I love you Mama JJ. You will be dearly missed.

God Bless.