A New Year

So obviously most people are aware that school has started again.  I am fortunately so blessed with working with first graders this year! I am so excited to teach these little babies.  What I wasn’t anticipating was all the work that is involved with changing grade levels.  Blah! So much extra work to be done because it is all new material for me to teach.  I love it though.  My babies are so adorable (even if they talk too much!)  After my first week of school and just loving every day of it I was under so much stress.  This triggered my anxiety to go into overdrive.  Unfortunately for me, when I am having high anxiety my ability to do positive self talk really falls to the wayside.  I had a really hard weekend and many tears were shed.  And even now I am not quite back to normal but we will get there.

I know this is a blog about Jameson and his story and so you are probably wondering why I am posting about my stress on here.  It is because every time I get high anxiety it brings back all the times I have felt anxious in my life and I relive those feelings all over again.  I am probably just being melodramatic but I can’t help the way I feel.  I am in such a wonderful place in life and have so many things to be happy about but sometimes it just seems too hard to be happy.  Too many things in my past bring me down.

What I really wanted to post about today, instead of continuing Jameson’s story, was to comment on a new school year.  I am so excited to be back in the classroom! But as I looked around my school and see all the kids faces I realized something.  Those little babies in pre-k are four! Lydia will be starting pre-k next year!! I can’t believe it!!! But what I can’t believe anymore is that those kiddos in pre-k are Jameson’s age.  He would be in their class if he was still with us.  It is so hard to see those little babies in the hallway holding hands with their teacher knowing my baby will never do this.  I look at them every day knowing they are in such good hands of our wonderful pre-k teacher and seeing how absolutely adorable they are.  And everyday it breaks my heart a little.  That could be my little boy causing trouble in the hallway or playing with his friends nicely at recess.  That could be him. But it’s not and it will never be.  

October 15 Jameson would have turned 5.  My favorite age.  Pre-k and kindergarten age.  I just love it.  They are so full of excitement about everything! So many questions, so full of curiosity, so full of energy.  And my sweet baby boy will never do that.  He won’t ever get to play on the playground and try to make new friends.  

This is so hard for me.  That’s probably why I haven’t posted in awhile.  Ha, one of my goals at therapy is finishing a task.  Because I am known for not finishing what I started.  But telling Jameson’s story is so hard because I know the way it ends.  I guess I’m not ready just yet to tell the whole thing.

Slow progress…

I know my posts on here are quite spaced out… I’m sorry I guess. I know this is for me but I feel like the people who read this are interested in following my story. But, it’s very slow going. I feel like I’m George R.R. Martin taking forever finishing Game of Thrones or the ever evolving Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon that has been out for 20 years (or more). I know I should be taking my time in reliving my story so it is a positive healing process for me. My readers are so captivated though by my charismatic and intriguing writing they can’t wait to hear the next part 😉 However, I know, as well as the people who are closest to me, know that when things start getting really difficult for me I shut down.

I am so close to being in shut down mode. I know what comes next and I know how this story ends. Spoiler alert: the story doesn’t end well. I know the next steps in my story is when Jameson begans his short life. I’m starting to realize that this will be so hard to document for me. I have told his story countless times, but actually giving it to the world to do what they will with it scares me. Or hurts me, depresses me, or just something I don’t know what. Maybe I feel like when I do this it won’t be mine to cherish and be selfish with. I might be just making up excuses to give up at this point. Ha.

In all of this, Jameson deserves this, people should know his story. He is worth people knowing about. It feels like it might kill me in the meantime, but his story is worth sharing. No matter how hard. So after all my rambling, please forgive me but support and push me into finishing his story because it is worth sharing. Even if it’s hard and it feels like it might destroy me on the way.

OK, so that was a little Emo as Nick would like to say but my feelings are valid, even if they are a little crazy. Ha ha. But please, please, bear with me. This is a work in progress. And it is so incredibly hard. I feel so awful to ask people to support me and be there for me but it’s what I need. Ugh, I hate asking people for help. That goes against every independent bone in my body (which is damn near close to all of them) But I guess this is me saying I’m not to proud to beg. I have to do this. If not for me and my healing, but for Jameson, because he deserves to be known.

It’s starting to get interesting…

All right, I guess after a month long hiatus I am ready to resume.  Ready as I will ever be I suppose.  I left off after my second high risk doctor appointment.  I was probably 28 weeks along by then and going to see my regular doctor every other week.  My doctor had told me I was at risk for preterm labor because I had too much amniotic fluid.  I had been measuring big for weeks, basically I looked 9 months pregnant when I was like 6 months pregnant.  Just what a girl wants, to look more like a hot air balloon.

It was time for my 30 week appointment and I had made a little list of what I wanted to talk to my doctor about.  I figured if I was at risk for preterm labor I should go ahead and get some details about what to expect.  Like any pregnancy visit I waddle in sit down and the nurse takes my blood pressure.  My blood pressure was typically 120/60 like always good.  Nope, not this time.  It was through the roof.  Now, since I am so lucky my regular doctor wasn’t able to see me and some other doctor that I had NEVER seen before was doing my appointment.  She comes in very concerned about my blood pressuring, worrying about preeclampsia.  She wants to check and see if I am dilated.  Wait, what?! I am only 30 weeks pregnant! I have gotten used to doctors poking around down there but not checking to see if I’m dilated.  So ok, whatever, she checks me and I am dilated to 1 1/2 cm.  My jaw dropped at this point because I hadn’t got to ask any of my questions I was wondering about and now I am dilating.  I’m wondering am I in labor? What’s wrong? What is going on?  The doctor recommended that I go to Labor and Delivery at Wesley so they can monitor me and make sure my blood pressure doesn’t rise.  All I can think to ask is do I need to pack a bag?  I am staying there?  Well, she shuffles me off to Labor and Delivery and I go and get checked in.  They put me in a room that’s dark with a fetal monitor and we wait.  We hang out there for  most of the night and then they decide that I am free to go.  This was Tuesday October 13.

After being at the hospital almost all night, I have to get up and go to school the next day.  When I say school, I mean student teaching kindergarten.   Oh, and it’s picture day.  Awesome.  Luckily for me, my cooperating teacher Mickey is super amazing.  She was so supportive of me through my whole fall semester and she saw me cry many tears and hear my hard story as it was progressing.   Whether she liked it or not, she knew a lot about my pregnancy and always had a listening ear and a kind word to say.  We are with our morning class in the gym while they are getting their pictures taken.  I feel like a weird popping sensation and then just liquid.  On my legs.  I instantly thought, dear god did I just pee myself a little bit?!  I look at Mickey and go I have to go to the bathroom.  I must have had some crazy look on my face because she looked very concerned and said ok.  Now, I will warn you the next part will be a little gross and graphic so if that is not your thing, you might skip ahead a few lines.  So I shuffle my leaky self to the restroom and sit down.  It is like a waterfall, like Niagara.  I am instantly panicking because WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! I can’t hardly even collect my thoughts and then it clicks, my water broke and this is all that excess amniotic fluid I have been carrying around.  I get the nerve to stand up because I am not gushing profusely anymore and waddle my way back to the gym and I get really close to Mickey and just whisper, “I think my water broke…”

She looked at me wide eyed and started asking questions, you need to get to the hospital, do you want me to call someone, do you want somebody to drive you, etc… I, in shock, say well, I’m going to get my stuff and I will just drive myself.   Seemed perfectly fine to me at the time.  Completely reasonable.  I walk down to the classroom and gathered my belongings and start heading out the door to the car.  Another teacher stops me, someone who I had small talk with about pregnancy and kids because she had 3 of her own.  She can tell something is amiss and asks if I am ok.  “Yeah, yeah I’m ok, my water broke.”  She is like do you want me to call an ambulance? Can I drive you? And what do I say, no, no, I am fine I will drive myself.  She was very skeptical of this decision but I must have hustled out of that conversation and into the car because before I know it I’m driving through Haysville to the highway calling Freddie to pack a bag and my mom to tell her what’s going on.

I am driving down 135 heading to Wesley and I call my doctor and tell them my water broke and I’m heading to the hospital.  I call my mom and she’s teaching in class.  I explain as calmly as I can that my water broke and I’m driving myself to the hospital.  She questions this decision as if was perhaps a bad choice.  In my defense, it would have taken anybody like mom, dad, Freddie, etc at least 20 minutes to get to Haysville and another 20 minutes to drive me to Wesley so I skipped a step.  I was so worked up that if I was having contractions, I did not notice them at all.  Yes ladies and gentlemen, you read that correctly my water broke at 30 weeks in a high risk pregnancy and I drove myself to the hospital.  Yes, I know, I am full of good decisions.

As I told my mom a few minutes before writing this post, at least I didn’t deliver Jameson myself on the side of the highway.  Although, better choices could have probably been made, this was my choice and it worked out just fine.  Of my whole Jameson story, this is one of my favorite parts.  I mean really, who has their water break, at school, in front of kindergartners, then drive herself to the hospital.  This girl, that’s who.

 

Break

I know it’s been a few weeks since I posted, I just have been taking a little break from blogging.  I had my wisdom teeth removed and had complications after surgery.  I wanted to focus on physical healing for the last few weeks 🙂  

The next part of the blog will really get into the stuff that’s hard for me and Jameson’s birth story which I have never written down.  Needless to say, what is upcoming is going to be very hard for me and I wanted to make sure that I was mentally and emotionally prepared to take that on.

Thank you again to everyone who takes their time to read this.  It means so much that my story and more importantly Jameson’s story is out for the world to hear.  His life life is worth celebrating and sharing.  Thanks for sticking with me during this long, hard, emotional journey and for all the uplifting words along the way!

The truth hurts…

Continuing where I left off,  I went to go see the high risk OB.  Basically when you go, the doctor gives you a sonogram and in our case explains things as we go as well as have a discussion afterwards about what they saw.  During our first visit, the doctor saw many things that were very concerning.  Clenched hands, clubbed feet, the bright spot on his heart, along with others.  She told us that she thought he had chromosomal problems like Downs Syndrome, Trisomy 13 or 18.  With Trisomy 13 or 18, babies are typically stillborn or die within the first year of life.  Not exactly the odds that you want to be dealt when you are pregnant.  The second visit with the specialist was even worse.  Worse than hearing your baby is going to have debilitating disabilities if he is born.  My doctor looked right at me and told me he was most likely going to be stillborn.  I was heartbroken.  Devastated.  I couldn’t imagine not being able to meet my son.  I’ve only ever wanted sons.  I knew I was destined to be the mother of boys.  Now this doctor is telling me my baby was going to die before ever taking a breath in this world.  I just couldn’t imagine that.  He was safe, he was fine in my belly.  Growing bigger and stronger everyday.  To me, at least

.

After that news being dealt to us, Freddie, of course, overreacted and yelled at the doctor that she was being mean to me and being over cruel and harsh.  I was so thankful that he was standing up for me.  Looking back now, that was his way of dealing with this heartbreak we were just finding out.  Was the doctor dishing out cruel and unusual punishment? No, she was just being truthful.  I wasn’t ready to hear that news, no one ever is.  She is definitely the one I placed the blame on for many years.  Although, I didn’t like her personally because I feel like she attacked me and my pregnancy, I could thank her today.  For not letting me walk into this and get completely blindsided.  I at least had heard the worst of the worst and had somewhere to set the bar.  In my experience it is best to set the bar very low, that way you can just be pleasantly surprised with anything else.

Now, let me clear about this, I don’t remember tons of this.  Everything is fuzzy and confusing.  Bits and pieces come flashing to me.  My mother helps me put all this together.  She told me today that I had told her this after my second appointment,

“I’m going to try really hard to be positive the rest of my pregnancy.  It may be the only time I have with him and I’m not going to spend it worrying and crying all the time.”

Now, I am trying to channel the bravery I felt then in helping me in this healing process.  If I could muster that up while I was actually in the moment, I can certainly make it through this.

OK now I will leave you with the lyrics to song that speaks to me often.  Staind, “So Far Away”

this is my life
its not what it was before
all these feelings i’ve shared
and these are my dreams
that i’d never lived before
somebody shake me
’cause i 
i must be sleeping

[chorus]
now that we’re here,
it’s so far away
all the struggle we thought was in vain
all the mistakes,
one life contained
they all finally start to go away
now that we’re here its so far away
and i feel like i can face the day i can forgive
and i’m not ashamed to be the person that i am today

these are my words
that i’ve never said before
i think i’m doing okay
and this is the smile 
that i’ve never shown before

somebody shake me ’cause i
i must be sleeping

[chorus]

i’m so afraid of waking
please don’t shake me
afraid of waking
please don’t shake me

[chorus]

OK back to the story…

First off I have to say I am amazed.  As of today I have 3,087 views to my blog. And what seems like a million comments along the way.  Thank you so so so much for all the words of affirmation and support through my journey.  At first I was so excited and it was great.  I was finally dealing with things and now I realized I’ve opened Pandora’s Box and it hurts.  And not hurts so good.

Letting people see that I am not OK and that I am vulnerable is not something I do well.  Haha, let me rephrase that, not something I do at all.  It is starting to hit me that I am not ok and I am really vulnerable right now and it is not sitting well with me.  So, thank you so much to everyone for the warm words, hugs, and love lately.  Ugh, I hate to say it but I really need it.  Really need it right now.

Back to Baby J’s story though,  I have to admit something… I made a mistake.  After talking to my mom (the vault as I will call her) she reminded me of some details of Jameson’s story I had stored too far back in my mind.  So rewind back to where my regular OB said something after my first ultrasound.  She had said he had a bright spot on his heart, which usually goes away after awhile.  She referred me to get another ultrasound which she totally dealt with like “Oh, just another look at your baby, I’m sure everything is fine.”  That was her tone about this.  Well, we went and did that and the ultrasound tech wouldn’t say anything to me throughout the ultrasound, not  like the first one at all.  She was all business.  I kept asking questions and she replied with “You’ll have to talk to your doctor about it.” To everything, she replied that to everything.  So later that day, my mom wanted to see the ultrasound pics so she came up to Old Chicago (where I was working at the time) and she said I was just crying and crying saying that something was wrong and the ultrasound tech wouldn’t tell me.  She reassured me with “That’s just her job, she’s supposed to say that.”  Apparently I wasn’t convinced.

The next day though, my doctor called me while I was student teaching.  I, of course, completely flip out because I missed the call at first.  I called back and the nurse told me that the doctor wanted to talk about my ultrasound immediately and if I could come in, RIGHT THEN.  I was hysterical and went straight to my doctor’s office.  She told me that the bright spot on Jameson’s heart was still there and that she observed he had clubbed feet.  These two characteristics together could be a sign of chromosomal abnormalities.  Then, she referred me to see the high risk doctor.  Between Freddie and I we were completely in fantasy land thinking that everything would be ok.  He’s fine, he’ll be just fine, that machine saw things wrong.

Unfortunately, we were very wrong.

Trying

I am trying so hard to process through everything.  This sounds absolutely absurd but… I can’t feel sad.  Sadness is a feeling I don’t feel.  If I feel like I need to cry I have to watch like an ASPCA commercial or watch Marley and Me.  I don’t do sad.  I don’t cry.  I want to feel sad.  I do. Really, I am listening to all my songs that make me sad and wanting, wishing, waiting for tears to come and they just aren’t there yet.  Not yet.  OK I just shed a few.  All I can do is keep apologizing to Nick for being awful and worthless.  I feel like I give nothing to this house or life.  Ugh, in my mind I know that is not true but I seem to think otherwise.  It’t completely ridiculous but all I feel like I should to is apologize to people.  My friends, my family, Nick, Lydia.  Everybody.  I feel like I am such a burden to bear because of all my baggage I have.  I totally overcompensate in my parenting with Lydia.  I constantly apologize to Nick for nothing at all.  I feel overly guilty for relying on help from my family.  I should be able to do all of this on my own but I can’t.  I simply can’t.

It is so incredibly hard for me to accept I can’t do this on my own.  I need people.  I am in desperate need of the people who love me and WANT to be there for me to hold me up when I can’t stand.  Right now, I am barely standing.  Barely keeping my head above water.  Nevertheless, teaching 18 kids, having a 3 year old, a house to clean, 3 kittens to care for, 2 dogs, and a sick boyfriend who has been working 13 hour days.  I feel awful and terrible because my parents offered to take Lydia tonight and tomorrow night.  Tomorrow night was scheduled due to a work party for Nick but  because of my week this week, mom offered to keep her tonight. Just in case I needed a break.  I do need a break, so bad.  I can hardly care for myself let alone mini me.  It just pains me to think that I can’t even handle taking care of my own child at this time.  Like I am passing her off on my parents.  I just can’t right now.  And it kills me.  I feel like such a terrible mother.

I know, ridiculous right? Really, she loves spending time with my parents and if I am feeling so off she is better off with them.  It’s all good.  I know this but why do I feel so bad about choosing this?

Ugh, this was going to be a short and sweet little thing about a song… The song that is “Jameson’s song”.  We played it at his funeral and it just captures everything.  But here I am crying and writing and ya.  That’s progress right?

OAR “James”

A new/old phase.

I have been a complete wreck since Mother’s Day.  A complete and total train wreck.  Oh, you didn’t notice? That’s because I am a master of disguise.  For those of you who saw through that or actually saw me, I am trying.  There is more to dealing with this than hiding my pain.  Thank you to all who have been there for me this week.  It’s been a little close to scary and hellish.  It took me all week to figure out what exactly I was feeling.  I was feeling funky and off and terrible.  Then, after many sessions of music therapy, I’ve discovered I am angry.  That’s like one of the stages of grief and I am there.  I am so incredibly angry that this happened to me.  I am so enraged that the person I dedicated my whole life to and gave up so much for completely fucked me over.  I did so much. I sacrificed so much.  My life, my money, my job, my pride. Everything. For nothing.  I found a song that perfectly depicts how I feel about Freddie: I Don’t Care.  If you have the time to listen it captures some feelings I am having right now.  I feel like this is taking up so much of my energy that I can’t even think about Jameson.  

In light of this, I am still feeling lost and broken.  So lost and broken.  I know I should feel like I found myself but I am drowning in my past. Staind “It’s Been A While” pretty much sums up how I have felt my whole adult life.  It’s been one major screw up after another.  It’s really hard for me to see past that right now.  I know the whole well if I hadn’t met Freddie I never would have met Jameson.  Well, c’mon honestly, really? I love Jameson, I love him so so so much but I had to hold him while he died because I was with Freddie.  I am so angry I married such a worthless asshat and that my sweet baby boy who did nothing but be born and bring joy into my life had to be taken away from me.  25 days? That’s bullshit. It’s not fair. Why me? Why my baby? What have I ever done to deserve this? 

I know that these are all questions that can never be answered.  Who knows why this happened but it did and it has changed the landscape of my life and personality permanently.

OK, last music reference for the night: Shinedown “Simple Man”  if you don’t listen to any of the other songs, listen to this one.  I have always, always had a connection to this original version of this song by Lynard Skynard (or however it is spelled) I always knew that I would have a baby boy and this is such a great message.   But now, I have a baby boy, but he’s not with me anymore.  So this song brings tears to my eyes for so many more reasons than it used to.  I used to cry  because I thought I would never have a baby boy to love and now I cry because I have a baby boy to love but not here in this life.

Oh Mother’s Day…

Mother’s Day.  I see we meet again.  Sigh, a day that is supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows is never a day of sunshine and rainbows in my world.  I actually feel like a little thundercloud is following me around raining on me.  It thunders and rumbles at me that I will never celebrate Mother’s Day with my firstborn, never.  I know, I know, ya’ll are thinking I have Lydia and that should be what this day is about.  Well, I completely agree. Absolutely.  But there is still the thundercloud and there is still the truth that I will never celebrate, get hugs, receive adorably ugly handmade cards and terrible tasting breakfast in bed from Jameson.  Never. Gonna. Happen.  That is why Mother’s Day and I have a beef.  Maybe one day we can agree to disagree but for now it’s still a standoff.
I was thinking yesterday in my journey of healing that I would go get some blue flowers and take Lydia with me and go visit Jameson for Mother’s Day.  Ya, no.  Therapy people will understand about a safe place. I was in my safe place (my bed hiding under my covers) and I still managed to get the racing heart and fast paced breathing going on.  Ummmm, so yeah I am not quite ready to take a step that big.  But I did think about it.  I really wanted to go see Jameson for today but I am just not ready yet.  Maybe next year?
On a brighter note, I try not to be a total kill joy on this day.  I am lucky I have a little rainbow in my life of Lydia.  She is too cute for words and sometimes she’s the only reason I make it through the day.  Also, I really do have the best mother a girl could ask for.  She never judges, nags, or tells me what to do.  She just lets me be me and figure things out on my own.  And when things turn out terribly, she is always there to love me and figure out how to fix things.  My poor mom, the hell I have probably put her through breaks my heart.  I have had to tell my mama things that no daughter should ever have to tell her mom.  But she’s always there with a kind listening ear and encouraging words.  She understands the pain I feel and how sometimes I hurt too much for words to explain.  I know that a hug from my mom can help me heal a little bit at a time.
After such a sucky, terrible turn of events over and over in my life I am finally in a happy place.  I can finally not let things like Mother’s Day completely ruin me.  I see my sadness and I feel my sadness but I don’t let it consume me totally.  It’s so hard. It’s so incredibly hard.  But thank sweet baby Jesus I have people like my mom to hold my hand and walk me through it all.  I know everybody says they wouldn’t be who they are without their mom.  Duh, without your mom you wouldn’t be here.  But in my case, because of her unconditional love, support, and encouragement, I really, honestly, wouldn’t be who or where I am today.

Next Chapter…

Since I started at the beginning of the story last time I figure I should go to the next part chronologically: my pregnancy.  Pregnancy and I don’t agree much.  Like at all.  Jameson was born at 30 weeks and I threw up several times a day for those 30 weeks.  I was working full time as either waitress or hostess at Old Chicago as well as going to school full time.  When I found out I was pregnant, I was observing/student teaching at a school here in town.  My cooperating teacher was less than pleasant to work with.  She was awful.  I knew that I had been a bit of a mess so I opened up to her about just finding out I was pregnant and she pretty much told me, “Well, I guess that’s why you were falling asleep the other day during small group time.”  I was already nervous about the whole situation enough and that really didn’t help.
Soon enough though it was summer and Freddie was working at a restaurant here in town as a manager.  Things were ok.  We were still broke, Freddie was the same hot mess he had always been, and I was so, so sick from being pregnant.  I can’t lie and say it was a magical time because it wasn’t.  Freddie and I fought so much.  I mean we fought a lot because he was so difficult but to be completely honest, I am pretty sure that he had an affair during this time.  Because of that we got into a physical altercation about it at some point.
A saving grace on July 23 though was our first ultrasound with Jameson.  The first of millions ha ha.  We went in to find out the gender of our baby at the anatomy scan.  We found out we were having a baby boy! What a relief for me because I couldn’t imagine raising a little girl.  During the ultrasound, we kept asking if he was ok as all expectant parents do.  Obviously, the ultrasound tech isn’t qualified to pass on that kind of information to parents, so I remember her telling us that he has all ten fingers and toes.  That was good enough for me.  I was so excited to be welcoming a baby boy home on December 21 that I may not have cared if he was missing some fingers and toes.
About a month passes and it’s time for my monthly check up with my OB.  During my 24 week visit, she mentions that Jameson had a small hole in his heart.  She said I shouldn’t be worried and that it usually cleared up before  birth.  She referred us to the only high risk OB in Wichita.  My doctor told me not to be worried about my baby so I wasn’t.  We did our usual routine after the appointment, lunch at Jason’s Deli so I could get a tuna melt (tuna was my pregnancy craving with Baby J).
Little did I know, that my doctor was not exactly disclosing the whole truth about what was going on with Jameson.

 Jameson’s first of many photoshoots.