The next day came and we woke up very early to head to the hospital. It was Thursday, April 25th. It was the day that I would go from pregnant one minute to not pregnant the next. For one of the first times in my life, I didn’t give a shit what I looked like. It was almost surprising that I even brushed my teeth and combed my hair. I just cried off and on throughout the morning. The surgery was fast and uneventful. In fact, it was so fast that Todd thought something was wrong when he was paged so quickly to return to me. The first thing I did when I woke up is grabbed my boobs. Luckily, they didn’t hurt anymore. I went home a couple of hours later and took more drugs. My wonderful husband brought me some food that I ate, and I soon was asleep. Apparently I emailed a few people and received a few phone calls later that evening. I don’t remember much, and I made that happen through the drugs I took. I just wanted it all to go away.
I spent the next few days recuperating, resting, and trying not to just lose it. I began having small panic attacks. On Saturday, I asked Todd to get me out of the house. I don’t remember a lot about where we went, but I got tired very quickly and we weren’t gone too terribly long. I felt awful and I was exhausted. Sunday was even worse. I began to panic about going back to school. I called my sister Sunday night bawling. I asked her how I would ever get through this. I was petrified about going back to work. When Todd came in to check on me, I was sitting on the edge of the bed rocking with a pillow. I had no idea what to do. Todd made me promise that I would call my doctor the next day and get medication.
I went to school the next day with the plan of avoiding everyone possible, making very little eye contact, and responding to all ‘How are you doing?’ questions with, “I’m okay.” I made it through the entire day without losing my shit – until the kids were gone. I called the doctor to request medication and they were all to quick to call in the prescription. After that call, I completely broke down and my poor friend & colleague, Monica, had no idea what to do with me. She stayed with me through it all, but I felt really bad for putting her in that position. I was in pure devastation and didn’t know what to do but cry out loud. I tried to articulate my feelings, but there were really no words for it. There still aren’t.
The next day was a little better. I knew I had survived one day. At the end of the day, two of my friends and colleagues, Kara and Ashley, came into my classroom. They just sat down and asked me what happened. That was the first time I was able to really tell somebody what had happened. I told them about the black hole I saw. I told them about how sad and scared I was at that time. I told them how I was absolutely heartbroken. I cried while telling them, but it was SO therapeutic for me and I thanked them. I still appreciate what they did for me that day. (ETA: It took me over a year to tell Ashley and Kara how much that meant to me. I simply began bawling as I started to tell them.)
I slowly began to regain myself, but I did cry every day for at least a couple of weeks. The first day that I didn’t cry, I felt bad for not crying. I felt more alone than I ever had in my life, and I have had many days of loneliness and despair. I became so very angry and I didn’t know how to manage it. All of those feelings were so odd to me because I felt that I was mourning the death of a person that I had known and loved for a long time. I finally figured out that I was mourning a dream that I had for all of my life. Looking back on it, I really went through the stages of grief. There is still a piece of my heart that is missing and I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about it all.
What's odd about reading about the events that occurred two years ago from today is that my feelings are still the same - shock, devastation, sadness, anger, frustration, worry, and despair. Yep. Anniversaries suck. Reminders suck. Today sucks. Still.