6 years ago today. 6 years and about an hour ago I walked into that dreaded hospital. I was very hopeful. I had faith. I truly believed she was going to be better. I never felt so right about something. But no.
The doctors pulled me into a special room, a room I hadn’t been in before. There were many other doctors in the room. Pretty much every doctor that had been involved in our nightmare were there.
I knew she wasn’t going to make it when the doctor said, “When someone asks you how many children you have, you will always say 2.” I knew what he meant. And I lost it. I don’t feel like reliving the nightmare today, so I’ll end the story there.
Instead, I’ll share a poem.
A butterfly alights beside us like a sunbeam
And for a brief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world.
But then it flies on again,
and though we wish it could have stayed,
we feel so lucky to have seen it.
– Author Unknown
I miss you baby girl.
Hugs, kisses, and high-fives,
Disclaimer: This is 2-3 times longer than my usual posts. I had thought about breaking it up in two, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I had heard of Bipolar and Manic/Depression; I learned about it in school but never put two and two together.
I was pregnant in 2009 with baby #3 when my brother handed me a school paper he was very proud of. A research paper on Bipolar Disorder. As I read the list of symptoms I felt strongly that he was trying to send me a message. Was he trying to tell me that I fit the description of this paper perfectly? And that I was bipolar? more…
I used to play WoW every chance I got. Either at home, at work, or whether I had anything else to do that day or not. It just didn’t matter. I remember sitting and playing for huge stretches of time and not even noticing. 3pm came around, and I still hadn’t eaten breakfast. When I did recognize that I was playing way too much, it was something I got defensive about with anyone who brought it up.
For me, WoW was filling the void left behind by my daughter. It was a way to escape the pain of everyday life. It was a way to banish the tedium of responsibility that got lost in my depression-fueled haze. I’d rather stay inside and WoW, than to go outside and be reminded everywhere I turned that I no longer had a daughter. Seeing little children reminded me. Seeing parents reminded me. Looking at my rearview mirror and seeing an empty car seat reminded me. more…
This is Part 4 (and the last) of a series. Click here for Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3.
Over the next few months, I manically tried to rebuild my life. I met a wonderful man who accepted that I was still a work in progress, and as far as I’d come I still had a long ways to go. I did eventually return to WoW when we moved back to Los Angeles. My life finally seemed to be somewhat stable again. And when I found out I was pregnant, I had to find low-impact activities to keep me occupied. So one night when I was bored and my son was asleep I decided to dust off the laptop. I seized every moment I had to spend with my son and my boyfriend and only played while my son was asleep or at school. WoW wasn’t my lifeline anymore; it was just a game.
(This is Part 3 of a Series. Click here for Part 1 / Part 2)
Installing WoW on our work computers was a big mistake. I ran a small office with my brother and he WoWed too. Maybe we thought that if we played at work more, we’d play at home less. I was trying to take a step toward not being glued to the computer every moment I was home, but it was definitely a step in the wrong direction.
(This is Part 2 of a series. Click here for Part 1).
Outside of the game, my husband and I were sleeping in separate beds. Divorce became the next logical step, instead of something we never thought we’d consider. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was painful to be with my son. Every time I looked at him, I just felt empty, reminded of the fact that he used to have a sister. I couldn’t take him to the park because the three of us had gone to the park, together. The sight of other young children was like a knife twisted in my chest. I couldn’t even walk by a Starbucks without remembering her asking, “Mommy, want coffee?”
This is what grief does. It carves a hole inside of you; a treacherous cavern that you know will cave in with just the slightest touch. But I didn’t want to face grief. I thought I could outpace it, and even if I was just one step ahead, it would be okay.
I never imagined I would need an escape from my day to day life.
At the age of 30 I was married, successful in my career, and mother to two beautiful children. But that year, my world came crashing down. My daughter – just two years old – was forced to fight a devastating bone marrow disorder called Aplastic Anemia. Her bone marrow was unable to produce new blood cells. My husband and I were left helpless and we agonized as our baby girl fought for her life.