moving on

Is it okay to feel okay today?

It seems like today I can report for the first time since September 4th, that I actually had a GOOD DAY! Now... of course it is only 6.30 in the evening, and the evenings are the worst. But tonight Norman is coming home from New York, Grey's Anatomy is on the TV with a new episode and I cleaned my bed. Meaning: watching TV from the bed, all curled up against my husband under clean sheets. Life can be good.

The weather has been gorgeous, I had a semi-productive day (if I could only stop browsing that www.marchofdimes.com site), I went to see the new house of a friend, which was a very nice little intermezzo. And this really sweet woman, who I am just starting to get to know a little better, made me soup! Homemade soup, just for us, still warm. And a loaf of bread and some Tension Tamer Tea for afterwards. That really warmed my heart! Somebody who hardly knows me reaching out. Or it could be that it made me really happy, because I really like her. Today I just feel so appreciative of all the people that have helped me out these last 3 weeks. Yesterday I found a CD on my doorstep. It was the song that Joyce sang at the butterfly release. I had mentioned to somebody how beautiful that was and how I wished it would be on CD. And they made it happen! Somebody went out of her way to call Joyce and ask for the song! This island and it's small community was suffocating me only 3 weeks ago, but now feels like a warm blanket...

So that's it. It's official. A few more hours to go today and I had my very first relatively happy day. Only three-and-half weeks after Nolan's death. Who would have thought that was possible?
My mom will be glad to read this. She lives so far away and every sad post here is followed the next morning by a concerned phone call from Holland. Mom, I am fine today, just like you promised me I would be!

Of course it is hard work to keep this state-of-mind. I have to avoid the big drawer with all Nolan's stuff and memorables. I have to avoid any tv show with babies. I have to keep my distance with people that I am jealous of (which, by the way, is totally random). And I have to choose to not feel guilty about feeling good today. Oh yes, it only takes a second to let my mind go there. "Why aren't you crying, why are you not totally depressed, shame on you, your baby just died". But today I wont go there! So far, so good. I am going to warm up my soup now and try to hold on to this okay feeling. At least until Norman comes home. And Grey's Anatomy starts. Let's just hope there are no babies in this episode.

Still looking pregnant ? (definetely still hormonal!)

It happened again today: somebody came up to me and asked me how my pregnancy is going.
Well, actually I came up to her. I didn’t want to, but I wanted to be the bigger person. This was at my daughter’s ballet. She was with a newborn baby. I knew she was pregnant, but haven’t seen her all summer. She saw me and enthusiastically said “HI Jessica!”. I had to say hi and congratulate her with the baby. Right? Well, I’m polite that way and so I did. I even managed to show interest in her baby for a brief second. He was so tiny! I heard myself ask when he was born. September second. Shit, that’s only 2 days before Nolan. Except for... her baby was supposed to be born in that week, I assume.

I wanted to run. I felt tears welling up. I forced a smile and turned around. But too late. She asked me: “did I hear you are pregnant too?” Considering I don’t even know her all that well, I said what I’ve been wanting to say to a lot of semi-strangers in the last few days: “yes I WAS, but my son recently died and I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”. I smiled politely (and probably scared her with that unexpected comment) and walked away. And THAN I cried for a few seconds. I don't even think anybody noticed.

Norman is in New York today. And tomorrow as well. He calls me every few hours, asking me how I am doing and telling me how madly in love he is with me. It is weird, but Nolan's death has really brought us even closer. Or should I say: he is trying harder then ever.

This morning he called, concerned as always, and I started crying. I wasn't planning on it. I don't know where it came from. Just hearing his voice, I guess. Out of nowhere I started about how unfair it is that I had to be back to my feet and in my normal life within 3 weeks. I was going on and on about the fact that I feel overwhelmed and stressed with all the things to do before I leave for Holland in a few days. “If I had actually brought home a BABY nobody would expect anything from me but resting and being happy and relaxed. I would be pampered, cherished and honored. But me? I had a baby, I just couldn’t bring him home. And therefore I don’t get any of the benefits and have to go back to normal stress immediately. Yadayadayada boohoohoo.”.

I went on and on about the fact that I needed him to give me more TLC and attention. Believe me, I have nothing to complain about. But I felt like it anyway. Although… I could use more TLC. After all, he had to go back to work within a week after Nolan’s death. And falls asleep rather early every night, while I stay up and browse the internet for premature baby stories. He is exhausted from putting all the stress of starting a new business and I am exhausted from ... everything. What a timing!

So, I yelled at him. I cried. I stamped my feet like a spoiled little girl that can’t have it her way. And since the conversation wasn't going anywhere I did the only rational thing left to do: I hung up on him. An hour later I called back.
“Thanks honey, for letting me ventilate!”
“You’re welcome baby”.

How to change my thoughts?

Norman didn't feel good yesterday. I was complaining about a stomach ache and felt freezing cold. He went straight to bed after work, without food. I was worried sick all night, hugging him as if he would never wake up. I mean: I even went online to refresh my memory on CPR! That says enough about my mental state, doesn't it?

The poor guy probably just had a stomach bug. But in my mind he was dying. Yes, dying. In my head I played all these scenario’s, from driving him to the ER in the middle of the night to how I would ever be able to tell Imani that her hero had just died. Of course (and thank God) the love of my life woke up today feeling much better. I never had to apply CPR. I could have saved myself another sleepless night full of worries, checking every hour if he was still breathing. And oh... how I wish that last line was actually a joke.

Norman wasn’t feeling well yesterday. He was complaining about a stomach ache and chills. He came home from work and went straight to bed without food. He felt freezing cold, even after I had given him extra blankets. I

INSANE, isn’t it?

So. I fear death now. Something I never really thought about - in a compulsive way - until the minute Nolan died. Within an hour after his death, I had to call AnneMarie about what to do with my daughter the coming few days while I was in the hospital and her dad in London. She suggested that she would still take Imani on her trip to Maine with her, like we had planned to do together that day. It felt as if my heart stopped beating. No. What if anything would happen to her?
Luckily my friend understood. I cried on the phone that she could take Imani (as if I had any choice) but that she had to drive extra careful and keep an eye on her at all times (especially in the pool). “She is all I have left” I cried hysterically on the phone. Poor AnneMarie.

I wasn’t just being dramatic. I really FELT the fear of losing her. Or losing Norman, last night. They say ‘heaven is love, hell is fear’. Well, that part of hell is true.

The fear hasn’t stopped yet, but it is gradually getting less. The unwelcome thoughts of death still seem to linger in my head though. The day I came home from the hospital my daughter almost choked on a carrot. The frightened look in her eyes, while she was grasping for air… I freaked out. I lost it. Norman and Evan had to act. She lived, of course (and thank God). But I cried for the rest of the night.

I am not only terrified of losing my husband or daughter (or my parents). I am also scared of ME dying soon. Not so much the actual physical death. No… I feel heaviness about the fact that my daughter would grow up without a mother. Not just any mother. ME! My mind goes in all different directions on how I could make sure she is well loved and taken care of if I’m gone. I hum her lullabies every night. She won’t sleep without me lying next to her, rubbing her back and humming songs. I spoiled her that way and to be honest… it is the highlight of my every day! But now, at night, when I lay there and hum for her in the dark, the tears roll over my cheeks. I even considered taping my voice on a CD, while singing her my daily lullabies, in case I’m not here anymore. What’s wrong with me? I am very much alive! Stop thinking these thoughts!

I don’t want to live in fear. I strongly believe that fearbased thoughts will manifest themselfs at some point. That's why I hate them so much. I can't think negative, or it will become true one day. It's the law of attraction. I am desperately trying to change my thought pattern now.

Norman advised me to read this book called “Home with God”. I’m half way through. And I hate it. But he swears that – after finishing it just before our son died – he is no longer afraid of death. It all makes sense to him. He even somehow has a sense of peace with Nolan’s death that I just don’t understand. I need to finish this book also. May be it will give me answers to the questions that I am struggling with right now. God. Death. Reincarnation. I doubt it though. So far it has only scared me more. May be the second half will be better. I'll give it a few more pages. And if not, I’ll trade it in for good ole’ Bridget Jones. Enough already!