Its the PTSD (stupid)

I don't like to call myself stupid, but that is the phrase I'm parodying, so there it is.

There are two very real reasons I'm rarely writing, but then again, I think it goes deeper.

Blogs are fueled by emotion. The best infertility blogs blend either humor and pathos or just pathos and sheer volume of words/posts.  My blog has always been a place were I wrote somewhat carefully thought out, carefully felt out, posts that cleared the decks for me, and opened a connection to you all. Back in 2008, Blogher was near my town,and I went to have dinner with the awesome Cecily and we talked about my blog, and hers and she said something like "I just can't read IF blogs, it's just so painful." I think Tori was 2 at the time. I get it now. I really get it.  .

So I've been thinking about why I don't write more. I truly wanted to keep this as a journal of our first year, I wanted the boys to be able to read through this blog and feel as if they can see their little lives unfolding, and in turn, know me.

But it hasn't worked out that way. When they were in the NICU I was pumping every two hours and running back and forth from the hospital. When they came home I was wrestling with breastfeeding and integrating the new reality of being a mother. And then sometimes, my arms and hands hurt so much I couldn't type. That may derail me tonight.

No matter what the constraints are, another fierce reality is that I am struggling with IF and Preemie PTSD.  One aspect of PTSD is shutting down, becoming numb.  I am either numb, or a wobbly weepy mess when I think about what could have happened, even though it didn't.  If they had been born the day of my baby shower, they wouldn't have lived. As it was, their lungs at nearly 29 weeks were very immature.  We could have lost them.  Juice could have not recovered from his neumothroax. He could have died. He could have died. He could have died. It doesn't matter that he didn't, it matters that he could have.  There are moments when I am so shaken at the thought of his dying that I snatch him up and kiss him and hold him and thank him for being so strong. And there are moments when my mind goes to the bad place ,and I imagine trying to make it thru if he had died. So I stay numb. And I don't write, and I don't feel.

The other piece that haunts me is that we could have never gotten to the point of having children at all. When I read about failed adoptions, embryo adoptions not working, miscarriages, all of it. It all makes my heart catch in my throat and for a moment I am that person. I am the person who pushed all the boundaries, took all the chances and came away with no child. Of course I didn't, but right now, I feel quite raw. 

Of course,this all makes sense in the context of it being around the time I got my positive and my first ultrasound confirming that we had two babies on the way. Nothing quite like an anniversary to get the feelings stirred up!

The aspect of IF that I have dealt with, and does seem to have stuck,  is the loss of my genetic connection.  I am aware of their origins, but I don't feel threatened or displaced like I feared I would. I wonder what the donors would see, who they would see, if they could see the boys. A mother's smile? Grandfathers ears? Their own features? For me,they are new beings, fresh and new.  Someday when they are older, if they choose to contact their donors, we may have the answers to some of these questions, but until then, they are just my beautiful boys.  

What is still so raw, and so drenched in horror is the very real bullets we dodged of never having children at all, giving birth before they could exist on the outside, and illnesses.  Two of the three are dodged, but the last one isn't.  

Eileen is sitting a vigil at her daughters side while she fights a serious kidney infection.  I read that and I feel so sad and scared for her, and then my own terror at the thought of one of the boys, or both of the boys getting sick, and frankly dying, shoots to the surface.

In terms of dealing with the PTSD around their prematurity, I'm planning to read Alexa's book, and let her give words to some of my experience. I just don't have them yet.

But I am here. I am loved, and loving my boys. They are darling. They smile at me. ME! They snuggle into my body, and are a miracle each and every day.  In the moments when I'm overwhelmed and exhausted and feeling like I bit off way more than I can chew by choosing to have twins, I realize I could have no babies, or worse, could have lost one or both of them, and I am restored.

 

Comments

[Sara]

I can't claim to understand exactly what you're going through, but I do know those PTSD moments when one think's "what if?" I still have them about Eggbert, and she wasn't even premature. She was actually a few years late, and I still think (often) about what would have happened if she had never arrived, or decided to leave early. I can't bear either thought. Sigh.

Glad your gorgeous boys are doing well.

[LisaJane]

just smiling...

[Summer]

I haven't had the experience of a preemie in the NICU, let alone two, but I understand the feeling that in a parallel universe a live baby may never have happened. And having gone through infertility and all the losses and failures that come with it, it's still hard not to think that the worse can still happen.

I remember, though, that those kinds of thoughts occurred more frequently when my son was a baby. They are such vulnerable little beings and it's almost like that vulnerability is a constant reminder of what might (not) have been.

[Good Egg Hatched]

I totally get this. I still have PTSD from the infertility experience and my complicated pregnancy. My mind is still poised to fear the worst...I have to remind myself that he's here, he's healthy and thriving, and at this point just another kid who has no greater chance of something happening to than any other. It's hard, though.

[a]

Eventually, you'll get the time and resources to write again. So, just remember these moments, and you can write 'em down later.

[Kami]

The two children I have did not almost die and yet I still worry about it. I hope it is something that fades a bit as they get older. Right now I suspect that those fears are as innate as wanting children in the first place. Still, I am sure the experience of almost not having children and have babies / embryos not make it heightens the experience and makes it seem more possible.

I hear you on the PTSD. Just yesterday I was visiting with a friend and her cell phone rang - the same ring I had set for the RE I went to. I instantly had a pit in my stomach even though it has been 2 years since I have had anything to do with them.

I am glad you have two babies and they are both doing well. It is nice to hear from you and I will be looking forward to hearing more.

[Ellen K.]

Thanks for your comment on my blog. I didn't have the preemie/NICU experience, but the sense of a parallel experience -- yes, I totally feel haunted sometimes, and the fear/gratitude does keep me from writing. I suspect this is the case with a lot of parenting-after-IF bloggers. And I also think it's felt particularly by twin moms because you have parallel lives right in front of you, and when I talk to people who have lost their own twin, they mention hauntings or ghosts.

My PPD really started right around the girls' 1st birthday because I was dwelling more on their birth, which was not the best day of my life. : (

Take care.

[Me]

Just thinking about my son dying makes me FREAK OUT. Sometimes if I let my mind wander in that direction for just more than 10 or so seconds I will start crying. He is my Universe. Consequently the single thing I fear most in the world is harm coming to him. :(