Here I am, another military spouse, writing another post about Veteran's Day on my little old blog. There are a million things I could say, a couple dozen videos I could post, and quotes coming out the wazoo that I could share with you. Instead, I'll keep it fairly simple.
This Veteran's Day, I am even more grateful than usual that my very own veteran husband is home safe and sound on American soil.
No one can really, truly understand the sacrifices of veterans, except for them. I try my best as a wife to do what I can do, and that is show my gratitude. Honestly, that is the best thing in the world ANYONE can do.
No matter what your political affiliations and regardless of what your views on this decade long war are, the truth remains the same. You are here in America, able to align with the political party of your choice, maintain your points of view on issues, and support whatever and whomever you'd like, BECAUSE of veterans. You are able to sit at home, drive your car, read what you'd like, and watch what you'd like, BECAUSE of veterans. You are able to pierce and tattoo your body, cut and color your hair, and wear whatever clothes you choose, BECAUSE of veterans. You are able to protest on behalf of whichever cause you'd like and yell, kick, and scream to get people's attention for whatever reason, BECAUSE of veterans.
Veterans serve this country faithfully, unfailingly, and without complaint. They CHOOSE to serve because they know it has to be done and they step up. Veterans make everything we have, everything we do, and everything about this country POSSIBLE.
Its Veteran's Day so for this one day, why don't we do what we can do, and give them the thing that means most?
Our gratitude and thanks.
Regardless of their age, when they served, or how long they served, they sacrificed for you, me, and millions of others they don't know. Many of these selfless individuals paid for our freedom with their lives.
So say thank you. And trust me when k say that it means more than we can imagine.
"We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude." ---Cynthia Ozick
October is a tough month for me. It's 31 days of such immense bittersweetness and is an intricate balancing act of enjoying the wonderful, while also allowing myself to feel the pain and grief it all holds.
Eight years ago, I married the man who saved me. It wasn't a perfect day but it was the start to our lives together and for that, I'm inexplicably grateful.
Six years ago, I was trying desperately to keep my head above water and figure out how to live life every second after being brutally sexually assaulted. I didn't really believe it was possible and yet, here I still am.
Five years ago, I was days away from testifying against the person who raped me in an Article 32 Hearing. My husband was 8,000 miles away in Afghanistan and every single day, I lived for those few minutes that I got to see his pixelized face and hear his voice through the static. I didn't care about how imperfect or unclear it all was because in those few minutes, I wasn't having to pretend I was happy or okay, I actually, genuinely was.
Two years ago, on this exact day, I was not only dealing with the regular ups and downs that the month of October holds for me, I was mourning the loss of our fourth Angel Baby whose due date had been October 15th, 2013. They never made it into my arms and I was bitter but I was alive to feel that bitterness, which is a wonderful thing.
One year ago, I was with the love of my life, driving down the Pacific Coast Highway in Northern California, visiting and exploring some of our favorite beaches. We went completely unplugged for the bulk of the day, enjoyed the radio silence, and gave credence and respect to the day in the most beautiful, peaceful, acknowledging way we could. One month prior, we had lost our baby girl Kay, our fifth Angel Baby who had Trisomy 21. It was our hardest loss yet but we had each other.
Even through all of the loss and sadness, October still holds a spark of magic for me. There always has been. It's all much more than any words are able to do the feeling justice. The wind brings a newness to the air. It's crisp and sharp but also calming and gentle. Somehow, all of the falling leaves and dying foliage smell sweet and spark the feeling of being alive. These 31 days hold so much nostalgia and wonderment from my childhood and as I've gotten older, have grown to hold a lot of harsh, unexpected cruelty. It seems odd to long for this time of year when I know exactly what memories and emotions I'll be flooded with and yet, every single year, I do just that. It's irreconcilable but also, not.
I don't believe October will ever become easy for me nor will it ever lose its magic. It's something that like all other things in life, will always require balance. There is no good without bad, no joy without sadness and no strength without pain and suffering. Without experiencing terrible loss and loneliness and isolation, it wouldn't be possible for me to feel the Heaven that is the love in my life.
Every October there is one day set apart from all the others where I feel the bereavement more keenly while at the same time, feeling more bolstered and supported. It's another balancing act that is hard to get a firm understanding of but nevertheless, is.
I miss every single one of my babies with all that I am. There isn't a second that ticks by that I don't long for them and feel the immeasurable emptiness each one of them has left in my heart. Each day, I wonder about who they would have been and every day, I love them with my Mama's broken heart. Every October 15th, I feel and experience and exist in this reality on a deeper level than any other day. Why? I don't quite know. Perhaps it's the fact that there are countless others feeling, experiencing, and existing in this same reality on this same deeper level, and ACKNOWLEDGING it.
Another year has dragged on and flown by. Once again, it's National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Please take a moment to send up a prayer and put out some light for every Baby lost too soon, every Father who didn't get to see their child grow up, and every Mother who has lost a piece of her heart. You may think it doesn't affect you or that it doesn't matter but you'd be wrong. 1 in 4 women have suffered through this horror, a lot of them in silence. That means that 25% of the women surrounding you, know all too intimately the excruciating pain of losing a child.
It does matter.
1 in 4 isn't just a statistic though.
1 in 4 is the WOMAN next to you in line.
1 in 4 is your AUNT.
1 in 4 is your COWORKER.
1 in 4 is your NEIGHBOR.
1 in 4 is your SISTER.
1 in 4 is ME.
Six years ago, I found myself in a situation that no person ever thinks as something that would or even could happen to them.
I was choked.
I was hit.
I was scratched.
I was nearly killed.
I was raped.
Six years ago, I became a different person. I had something stolen from me that eternally changed the very essence of who I was. Through violence, terror, and humiliation I was transformed.
Six years ago, the bleak emptiness that I was left with, seemed impenetrable and my annihilation from any sort of normal existence, inevitable.
It's messy and exhausting. It's undeniably scary and painful and absolutely inevitable. There's something in knowing the hideous inevitability of life that makes us want to stand up, heads held high, with our heels dug in while at the same time, running to duck for cover with our eyes wide shut. Most of the time, we're okay with all of the shitty sides of life because often, it's all counterbalanced by beauty and love and exhilarating opportunities. Often, but notalways.
God! Us humans are such fickle, selfish, and yes, vulnerable, ignorant creatures. Always wanting to be given more for doing less. It's easier to make brash assumptions about random strangers instead of taking a few minutes out of our lives to get to know someone new. Putting out negativity seems to come more naturally than spreading positivity. We are all so stubbornly hellbent when it comes to our hopes and dreams and what we view as the only path that leads to success. We plan and we plan and no matter how many times our plans fail, we never learn. In our minds, no one knows better than us who swim in our own preconceived notions of what our lives are supposed to be like.
I'm 27 years old. I've lived in 4 states and 11 residences since 2007. I've lost 4 jobs and undergone over half a dozen surgeries. I've had 3 organs removed and 5 tumors discovered. I received treatment for those tumors and though it was a success, I now only have about 50% functionality in both of my kidneys combined. I've been brutally raped and nearly killed. I have had to witness my attacker being fully acquitted and all records expunged not once, but twice. I've had my marriage tested so thoroughly that I didn't see how we could possibly make it out with our love intact. We have encountered infertility and also lost 5 babies.
FIVE.
I've been contemplating talking about this almost since Day 1 but I never could quite get myself to follow through. Following through meant cutting already open wounds even further, pouring in salt, and then scrubbing them with steel wool. It meant thinking and feeling and acknowledging excruciating pain. The closer today got, March 26th, the more I felt the need to let it all spill out and the less I was able to shroud and drown everything that's lived inside of me since last September.
In July when I first began feeling the aches and pains, it was a teensy thought at the back of the furthest reaches of my mind. The longer it went on, the more that teensy thought grew. I only had my husband pick up the tests as a throw away solution that would get those voices and thoughts to shut up. When I sat down to pee on that stick, it never once crossed my mind it would be anything but negative. Before I could rip the toilet paper off of the roll and not even 10 seconds later, there was a bright pink and undeniably present line.
Positive.
Throat closed up, mouth went dry, eyes welled, head spun.
The first three words out of my mouth were not something endearingly sweet that I'd share with my children when they were grown. They were sharp, shocked, only 4 letters long and completely unladylike. I shakily called Mr. Superman's name and when he rounded the corner, I immediately choked out a sob.
Him: Are you serious?
Me: (Arms outstretched and stumbling my way to him.) I can't do this again! I can't!
Within a week, I'd already had my first ER visit that resulted in us finally seeing a tiny little sack inside of me. Over the next few weeks, I got sicker and things got scarier. I threw up blood and passed out daily. I drove up to the University hospital every morning where I got hooked up to the machines and received 2 liters of fluid. We held hands so tightly every time they checked for our baby on the ultrasound screen. The love of my life cried when we first saw the heartbeat racing in that babes chest. We soon found ourselves living quite comfortably in our new reality and were excitedly preparing for the baby we'd been dying to have for the last 7 years. I grew plumper and loved to look at my belly in the mirror. Every single second of pain and sickness made me happy. It all meant that a miracle was still living inside of me.
One day in September, I woke up feeling a palpable, heavy presence that I could not shake. I told Mr. Superman I had a bad feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it but something was wrong with that day. He kept telling me to stay positive and have nothing but good juju flowing through me. "The baby will come out with a bad attitude if you don't", he joked. A couple of hours later, I passed out and hit my belly on the corner of our ottoman on my way down. The pain that followed was pretty intense which meant driving back up to the hospital to get checked out.
NINE HOURS LATER, we were being told that there was no more movement coming from our baby. She wasn't kicking or dancing like she usually did. There was no heartbeat drumming away in her tiny chest. We were left in the room so we could have some privacy and also to discuss how I wanted to 'evacuate the fetus'. Evacuate. Like a damn firedrill.
TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER, I was being awoken from surgery and soon thereafter, wheeled out to my car and sent home.
Empty.
It wasn't long after losing her that results came back showing she had been Trisomy 21. Downs Syndrome. Ironically (and I wholeheartedly believe divinely), the middle name we had planned on giving her was Kay. She was going to be named after my Aunt Kay who had been a beautiful, loving Downs Syndrome individual.
Hours turned to days turned to weeks and I had been in a constant downward spiral heading into the deepest, darkest, and heaviest of abysses. I wanted to die. I had been so thoroughly broken it's hard to see how my heart kept working. It seems impossible and yet, here I still am.
In December, I was rushed to the hospital where upon arrival, no vitals could be found. I had been hemorrhaging off and on since our baby girl had been taken from my body and in the last week, I had lost 5 units of blood. I received a transfusion and spent a week in the hospital where I had surgery to clamp off the two main arteries inside of my uterus that were freely bleeding. We were told it was likely this bleed is what had actually caused the death of our baby girl, not the fact that she was Trisomy 21.
Anger, sadness, confusion...
Why? I mean seriously, why?! I don't care if she had been low functioning, all I wanted was her. I'd give anything, do anything if I could just have her back.
The thing about life is that it's not fair. It's wholly unpredictable and uncontrollable. No matter how many times this truth gets slammed in our faces, we never learn.
Because we're stupid humans.
I had a plan. It was to get married, go to school, have babies, be happy. Never in a million years did it cross my mind I wouldn't get exactly that. Nobody ever thinks they are going to struggle with infertility let alone lose FIVE babies. It's unimaginable. Unconscionable.
Another thing we humans do is put a label on everything. Every single thing life dishes out is sorted and crammed into cubbies that make everything look prettier and feel cleaner. The damaging thing about this way of thinking is that it separates and alienates us from one another. Those who are going through hell and struggling with life's most recent derailment find themselves feeling heartbreakingly alone and misunderstood.
Miscarriage is one of those things that doesn't fit into a cubby hole. For those who never experience it, it's impossible to understand the grief and pain behind it. Things are said thoughtlessly, carelessly, and ignorantly. Being brushed under the rug is par for the course because who the hell wants to talk about dead babies? Trust me, we get it. We're living it.
March 26th, 2015. The birthday she will never have.
The hardest thing about being someone who loves easily and fiercely and unabashedly is being someone who loves easily and fiercely and unabashedly. The best part? Precisely the same thing. Even though somewhere deep inside I know this is true, right now it's all I can do to not shatter into a million little pieces.
I guess instead, I'll just hit the 'Publish' button.
It's November again. Another year has passed by in a hazy, reckless, unfathomably painful blur.
Almost every single second, I find myself not only longing for this girl in the picture to exist, but for her to show up, take me by the hand, and lead me to wherever and whatever reality that allows me to be who she is.
Who I was.
She'd arrive in a triumphant blaze of assurance and calmness. She would rehook all of the things that have come unhooked and unbreak everything that's been broken. She'd teach me what it really is to feel a hope and a happiness so deep and genuine, that it would be visible when you looked in my eyes. She would tell me exactly how to achieve a contentment and confidence so pure, it could be palpably felt by all who'd come in contact with me.
A year ago this girl was REAL and even though I know that to be an undeniable truth, this girl seems like such an obscure, abstract, unattainable, impossible concept. It is a dilemma so deeply incomprehensible for me to grasp that I am wholly unable to reconcile myself to it. It's as surreal and far-fetched as time travel or sprouting wings to fly, or princesses in castles, guarded by dragons, being rescued by perfect men they've never met but who somehow, inexplicably, always manages to be their true love.
I'm not some incredibly intelligent person nor am I someone destined for greatness and legacy. I don't know a lot and I'm not sure of most things in this world but I know enough to realize and admit that there is no rewind button and there is no possibility of a Me from the past coming to the Me from now's rescue.
The struggle to exist, to continue to be a reality in this world, is not easy. Life is messy and relentless and painful. It takes and it destroys and it leaves nothing untouched. It's a terrifying dark abyss that we all must dive into, head first, not knowing or being able to see what awaits us at the bottom.
We humans are an inherently weak and selfish species. We attack our own and stand idly by, as we watch evil happening around us. We are gluttons for punishment, rarely seek out or take advice from others, and have it deeply ingrained into our very beings that 'looking out for number one' is the thing to do. It's in our nature to do whatever it takes to survive and come out on top. As with all things, there is an opposition, a flip side. Even with all of the inferiority and defectiveness that means we're human, we also have the capability to be the very essence of good. We can love fiercely and form opinions and feel things so intensely we lose all sense of reason. Yes, we humans are a fickle, irreverent bunch but we are also blessed and thankful and unique. The best things about what it is to be human however, are also the things that allow our naivety and foolishness to abound. It is this innocence and ignorance that leads us to accept and believe things blindly, readily.
The notion that if you just carry on in spite of the million and one hurdles thrown in your path, you'll not only be a brave and strong individual worthy of praise, but you'll also have done something that actually matters and is worth remembering, is one of the biggest lies that has arisen and been fostered and preached since the dawn of time.
There are no right answers. There is no such thing as a period of time that heals. The only certainties in this life, any life really, are pain and guilt and suffering and the fact that there are no magically foolproof formulas to follow in order to achieve the highly coveted and most desired level of achievement.
Happiness.
Pure, unadulterated, invincible happiness sounds good but it's a lie. A farce. The only thing we can do is breathe in and out and will our hearts to continue pumping our blood through our bodies. I know it's true like I know that the sky is blue and the sun sets in the west. I just really, really wish that this girl, the one in the photo, could come to me and tell me how to keep doing that.
Geez. October 15th. Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.
Well, this day is here yet again. Time is funny like that. No matter how you feel or what is going on in your life that seems so altering and appalling, time still moves. Its an inescapable fact and yet I never find it easier to accept.
I spent the day away from all of the attachments we humans have formed to maintain constant connectivity with everyone. I drove South down the Pacific Coast Highway with my incredible husband, exploring some of our favorite beaches and discovering new ones.
No cell service for 7 hours was blissful.
No Facebook posts to read or Instagram pictures to scroll through.
No way for me to give in to my slightly masochistic tendencies by reading articles and blog posts and comments about everyone's angel babies. Trust me, I never stop thinking about those losses. I have far too many of my own to stave off those thoughts and feelings forever, but today it was what I needed.
I really, truly needed to step away and live in the moment. I needed to be out in this insanely gorgeous world we live in and FEEL something other than the grief and pain and confusion that's been surrounding me.
It's been 5 weeks and 2 days since we found out we had lost our baby and its been 5 weeks and 1 day since that baby was taken from my body.
Even though stepping away was good, I knew I needed to acknowledge this day and what its for and what it means to countless moms, dads, entire families, and all of the babies we've lost.
October 15th.... It's the middle of the month. It's the day after the 14th and the day before the 16th. It's 16 days away from Halloween. It's right in the middle of Autumn weather coming into full swing. There's usually leaves on the ground in different shades of red, orange, and gold. The air is crisp and chilly in the morning and brisk and cold at night. It's cold enough for boots and cardigans but there's no snow sticking to the ground yet. Pumpkin is everywhere. It's in recipes on blogs and in your Facebook feed. There's countless pictures of pumpkin this or pumpkin that on Instagram. They're in the grocery store, being sold at the stand on the corner, and sitting on your neighbors front porch. Most of the popular pins on Pinterest right now either incorporate or center around this big orange member of the squash family. There are crafts! And decorations! And GOOD LORD it's even in your coffee! All of these things are a given when it comes to the general public and what pops in their minds when thinking about October. Everyone knows when October is. Everyone is more than familiar with the things that are usually going on in October. To most, October 15th is just another generic day of the week in another month of another year. This year, October 15th happens to be a Tuesday. Last year it was a Monday and back in 2007, on October 15th, I was rushing around tying up loose ends and calming nerves for my wedding that was just four days away. Do you know what else October 15th is? National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. You see, for countless women, October 1st begins the lead up to the one day a year that their pieces of fractured souls and broken hearts are recognized by others rather than themselves alone. Their babies who are now angels are even more present in their hearts and minds today, than they are every other second of every other day because of this day. October 15th. Prayers are said. Candles are lit. Hands are held. Hugs are given. Memories are reflected upon. Tears are shed. All of this and more for the babies who never got to make it out of the womb, the ones who were stillborn, and the ones who were taken much too soon back to Heaven. For most people, October means Autumn has arrived and Halloween, orange and black, witches, pumpkins, and spooky stories are here. For others though, it's something much more and most won't ever know. Growing up, October was something I anxiously waited for all year. I loved the feelings I got going outside in the mornings and seeing the trees slowly become more bare as the leaves fell. I always went all out on Halloween when it came to my costumes and I looked forward to the neighborhood bonfire we had every year. It was the month that brought my Mama's birthday and on its heels was Thanksgiving. I loved it. In 2007, October became even more fantastic! The 19th was the day Loverface and I became husband and wife and it was just one more thing to celebrate! Each passing year since then brought on more and more of life and the struggles that accompany with it. It seemed as if everything kept happening around the same time of the year and it all made me morph into someone who felt increasingly sad and angry as October drew closer. No matter how I have tried, I haven't been able to regain my untainted and unabashed fondness and enthusiasm for October. October 4th, 2009 was the day I was raped and nearly killed. It was an inexplicable nightmare and to this day I can't really face the details of it all without flinching away. October 19th, 2010 found me 8,000 miles away from my husband. Instead of it being the day we celebrated 3 years of marriage, it was the day that began with me testifying against my rapist in an Article 32 Hearing and ended with me alone at an Urgent Care, being told that I was in the midst of a miscarriage. Our 3rd loss. The next year, October 2011 was a bit of an emotional blur. Loverface was on 12 hour night shifts and I was trying desperately to not drown in my grief and anger surrounding the events from the last couple of years. I tried to shove it away and hide it which in the end did nothing but set me up for a much bigger fall. Last year, we were still settling into our new civilian lives in Salt Lake City, Utah and even though we did get to have a day together to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary, I couldn't help but feel utterly bitter. Bitter that we had 3 Angel Babies but none here on Earth. Bitter that after 5 years, we were no closer to our goals and dreams. I was angry and bitter that the person who raped me had not only been let off all civilian charges but also all military charges and was free to live his life without a second thought of what he had done to me. I was bitter that I had received notification that this person wasn't content enough with brutally abusing me but was also attempting to serve me with legal papers, notifying me that I was being sued. I was SO. UTTERLY. BITTER. The beginning of this year brought with it a change. Our circumstances and environment didn't undergo some magical transformation nor will they anytime in the near future. Regardless, something had clicked. A flip was switched in me and without telling anyone or declaring that it was a New Years Resolution, I made a decision. I was going to let it go. Everything that I was clinging to that made my life that much more difficult or unhappy was being set free. If I didn't have any control over it, it was gone. Getting on Facebook and seeing that yet another person, was having yet another baby wasn't going to ruin my week. Of course it would still be difficult and it would still tug at my heart but I wasn't going to be the girl that couldn't paste a smile on her face and say a simple, "Congratulations." No more. I wasn't going to fear my attacker. Let his lawyers try to track me down and serve me with papers. I wasn't going to hold onto so much bitterness that I didn't have room for happiness. Thinking about and talking about my attack was still going to be incredibly difficult. It would hurt like hell but all I had control over was continuing to bravely share my story and show others that its possible to pick up the pieces and get back to your life. Try my best. This was all something that just kind of occurred to me one day. I don't remember what I was doing or where I was but I remember feeling a sense of excitement, hope, and relief. October was still going to be a month that held a lot of emotion. That was inescapable and even if I could, I wouldn't want to. The best part of human existence is experiencing and feeling. Without the bad there wouldn't be good and vice versa. You can't have all the chocolate without the calories but sometimes, the chocolate is just so damn worth it. I'd decided and I dove in. In February, Loverface and I discovered I was miraculously pregnant. We shared it with the world in hopes of all the extra prayers and good juju would really help that bun stay in my oven. We were very cautiously starting to allow talk of the future and started slipping into, "When"s instead of, "If"s. I was insanely sick and growing at a fast pace. Then it all happened. Again. Our hopes were dashed, our baby was gone, and we were left empty in every possible way. Regardless of how difficult it was, we pulled ourselves back up and got back into our routines. By July it seemed as if I really had managed to grieve and tuck the heartache away more easily than in the past. It didn't hurt any less and I wasn't any less broken but I was able to handle it better for some reason. Until today. You see, today is October 15th. It's National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. It's October 15th. It's the day that was supposed to be for our Angel Baby #4. October 15, 2013. The due date that never happened. Today I am feeling broken. The words grief and sadness don't seem anywhere near adequate and the thought that this awful, huge, gaping feeling could be put into words that would come close to describing what it is to hurt like this is incomprehensible. I have hope that hope will return to me soon and I love that I know what it is to have a man who loves me the way I am loved. Its October 15th and I am feeling fractured, hollow, blank.... But I know I am blessed.
Every time I closed my eyes, images would begin swirling and as they collided with my exhaustion, reality would drift far enough away for dreams to begin, but not so far that I didn't know I was dreaming.
I was standing in line at Starbucks when he walked in and called my name.
How are you?
You look great!
It's been so long...
My eyes fluttered open, I kicked off the covers and got up to get a glass of water. Settling back into bed, scenes of downtown Tempe began to fill my mind.
It was a Friday night and we'd just finished dinner at Oregano's. The sounds of people laughing and talking loudly mingled with the smells of food and cigarette smoke that surrounded us. It was exactly like every other night we'd spent walking down Mill Avenue. The only difference was that when we crossed the street, he didn't make it. Once I stepped up onto the curb and turned around, I saw him lying in the street.
I jerked awake that time and had to take several deep breaths to calm myself. My husband was sleeping soundly next to me and I wished I was too. As I rearranged my pillow, I concentrated on matching my breathing to his, focusing on all things calm.
There he was again. Standing there in a black t-shirt and jeans, along with his regular black Vans and sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt, the weight of them pulling the neckline down far enough to see the top of a slightly raised pink line down the middle of his chest. I knew it was nearly 6 inches long but that's only because I'd seen it in its entirety.
Hey you! Are you going to come to the hospital? The doctors are saying this may be the last surgery I'll ever need. I'll be fixed! Please wait there with my mom...
This time when I opened my eyes I had to talk myself into believing that the conversation I'd just had with him wasn't real. We'd always hoped one day the doctors would indeed tell him that he only needed one more operation and then his heart would be better but after 9 years of knowing him, I knew it was a long shot.
This was getting old. I had work in 3 hours and I hadn't managed a stretch of sleep longer than 20 minutes. Sighing in utter frustration I lay my head back down again.
I was holding his mom's hand while we sat in the freezing cold waiting room. The sterile smell of hospitals had always turned my stomach but combined with my apprehension and terror, the nausea was threatening to overtake me. We'd been waiting only 2 hours. Even still, those 2 hours had felt like 20 and when I looked up and saw the doctor walking towards us, mask pulled down around his neck, scrub cap in hand, and blood on his coat, I knew instantly that something had gone terribly wrong.
He's gone. We tried everything. Sometimes this happens. I'm so sorry for your loss.
My eyes flew open and as I realized that my face was indeed wet with real tears, I could still hear his mom screaming.
No! This can't be happening! Not my baby! Please, God, no!
Seriously?! Why did I keep seeing him? I hadn't talked to him in 6 weeks and yet every time I attempted to get the sleep I so badly needed, there he was.
Somehow, an hour later when my alarm went off, I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for work. The morning was a rough one. Trying to convince a very cranky and sick 3 year old boy to do the most simple and ordinary tasks was grating on my nerves. My leg got cut by some glass and I got yelled and cursed at by a 70 year old Vietnamese woman. I had forgotten my breakfast at home and hadn't had time for my morning coffee. When my phone buzzed and I saw that I had a new message, I escaped to the bathroom to catch my breath and read the message.
When I saw the sender's name, my stomach dropped.
I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut, forcing my insides into my throat.
It was from her. His mom.
As my eyes flew over the words shining bright on my phone screen, I suddenly felt as if I was being choked. I couldn't breathe. My head was spinning.
He's gone. I found him this morning. I looked but I couldn't find a note. I wish I could say it was an accident. It wasn't his heart. The police are still here. Had he contacted you? He still talked about you all the time. I thought maybe you would know... He loved you. I'm so sorry. Where are you? Can you come?
This could not be happening.
This was not real.
It just could not be.
I jumped as I heard the irregular rhythm of a 3 year old fist knocking on the bathroom door...
The rest of the morning was a blur. Upon arriving back at our apartment after getting L on the bus for school, it all threatened to crash down on me. I couldn't think about anything but the one thing I knew I shouldn't do. It was an incredible struggle. I forced myself to change and work out. The entire time I focused like I've never focused before. It felt impossible to keep going but as I did, the sweat and shortness of breath pushed down the choking sensation from my throat. Afterwards, I showered and got dressed. I had to meet my husband on campus at the Detachment and take photos of him and the other members of next years Wing Staff. I was angry. So very, very angry. The reasons I gave were irrational but I didn't care. I could not talk about it. I would not talk about it. 2 hours later I was back at home and in my room.
You will not cry. This isn't happening. Just keep standing and folding laundry. You will not cry. This isn't happening. Just keep standing and folding laundry.
I kept repeating those words to myself. The next 2 hours were filled with the mundane tasks of folding, hanging up, and putting away 6 loads of laundry I had been avoiding. I did cry but just a little. Never longer than a minute or 2 and then I'd wipe my face, shake my head, and proceed with what I was doing.
5:30 PM found me on my bed, hugging a pillow, sobbing uncontrollably. The door opened and I heard my husband's footsteps as he walked around the bed. The mattress shifted as he sat down.
What's going on? Please tell me what's wrong? Rachelle you HAVE to talk to me. I'm going to get some tissue and then you have 2 minutes to tell me. Please talk to me. What happened?
I didn't want to say it. I didn't think I could even manage saying the words. After fighting it some more, I gave in.
He's dead. He killed himself this morning.
I told him all about it. I sobbed.
Another good soul has left this Earth and in doing so, he left from my life. No longer do I have the option of checking up on him. There is no possibility of me running into him ever again. I won't ever have a chance to see him smile again or to tell him how proud I am of his sobriety.
Its completely nonsensical. How is it possible that someone with such a pure heart no longer exists? A heart that had made it through TEN open heart surgeries... How can it be that someone who had been sober and clean for 3 years, who felt like they finally had it figured out, and had a new lease on life, no longer have any life at all?
There are no words to accurately describe what this feels like. I have an actual physical stabbing pain in my heart. It's been 53 hours since I got the news that he was gone and I still can't believe it.
Well, that's not true. The tears and the pain and the sleepless nights are proof that a part of me knows and believes. I just wish I didn't. I wish I didn't have to.
I don't want to grasp the reality that the one good person from my past is gone.
I don't want to understand that the one person from my past that never made me hate myself more than I already did is gone.
I don't want to know that the person who managed to crack my stone-hard exterior after my best friend killed himself is gone.
I don't want to believe that one of the best people and men I have ever known is gone.
Above all else, I don't want to wrap my head around the fact that he's gone because that would mean I'd have to accept and understand that he was hurting so badly and was so blinded by despair and hopelessness and pain, that he felt his only choice was to slip a rope around his neck and before stepping off of the chair he'd planted his feet on, drag a razor blade across his wrists.
Really, truly knowing that would make me hurt more than I can comprehend.
It would mean I failed.
It would mean I failed someone I had once loved and was still very near and dear to my heart.
It would mean that someone I thought had risen from the blackest and deepest depths of depression and found happiness, wouldn't have and that would mean that the hope his story and life had given me, wasn't ever real to begin with.
October 15th.... It's the middle of the month. It's the day after the 14th and the day before the 16th. It's 16 days away from Halloween. It's right in the middle of Autumn weather coming into full swing. There's usually leaves on the ground in different shades of red, orange, and gold. The air is crisp and chilly in the morning and brisk and cold at night. It's cold enough for boots and cardigans but there's no snow sticking to the ground yet. Pumpkin is everywhere. It's in recipes on blogs and in your Facebook feed. There's countless pictures of pumpkin this or pumpkin that on Instagram. They're in the grocery store, being sold at the stand on the corner, and sitting on your neighbors front porch. Most of the popular pins on Pinterest right now either incorporate or center around this big orange member of the squash family. There are crafts! And decorations! And GOOD LORD it's even in your coffee! All of these things are a given when it comes to the general public and what pops in their minds when thinking about October. Everyone knows when October is. Everyone is more than familiar with the things that are usually going on in October. To most, October 15th is just another generic day of the week in another month of another year. This year, October 15th happens to be a Tuesday. Last year it was a Monday and back in 2007, on October 15th, I was rushing around tying up loose ends and calming nerves for my wedding that was just four days away. Do you know what else October 15th is? National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. You see, for countless women, October 1st begins the lead up to the one day a year that their pieces of fractured souls and broken hearts are recognized by others rather than themselves alone. Their babies who are now angels are even more present in their hearts and minds today, than they are every other second of every other day because of this day. October 15th. Prayers are said. Candles are lit. Hands are held. Hugs are given. Memories are reflected upon. Tears are shed. All of this and more for the babies who never got to make it out of the womb, the ones who were stillborn, and the ones who were taken much too soon back to Heaven. For most people, October means Autumn has arrived and Halloween, orange and black, witches, pumpkins, and spooky stories are here. For others though, it's something much more and most won't ever know. Growing up, October was something I anxiously waited for all year. I loved the feelings I got going outside in the mornings and seeing the trees slowly become more bare as the leaves fell. I always went all out on Halloween when it came to my costumes and I looked forward to the neighborhood bonfire we had every year. It was the month that brought my Mama's birthday and on its heels was Thanksgiving. I loved it. In 2007, October became even more fantastic! The 19th was the day Loverface and I became husband and wife and it was just one more thing to celebrate! Each passing year since then brought on more and more of life and the struggles that accompany with it. It seemed as if everything kept happening around the same time of the year and it all made me morph into someone who felt increasingly sad and angry as October drew closer. No matter how I have tried, I haven't been able to regain my untainted and unabashed fondness and enthusiasm for October. October 4th, 2009 was the day I was raped and nearly killed. It was an inexplicable nightmare and to this day I can't really face the details of it all without flinching away. October 19th, 2010 found me 8,000 miles away from my husband. Instead of it being the day we celebrated 3 years of marriage, it was the day that began with me testifying against my rapist in an Article 32 Hearing and ended with me alone at an Urgent Care, being told that I was in the midst of a miscarriage. Our 3rd loss. The next year, October 2011 was a bit of an emotional blur. Loverface was on 12 hour night shifts and I was trying desperately to not drown in my grief and anger surrounding the events from the last couple of years. I tried to shove it away and hide it which in the end did nothing but set me up for a much bigger fall. Last year, we were still settling into our new civilian lives in Salt Lake City, Utah and even though we did get to have a day together to celebrate our 5 year wedding anniversary, I couldn't help but feel utterly bitter. Bitter that we had 3 Angel Babies but none here on Earth. Bitter that after 5 years, we were no closer to our goals and dreams. I was angry and bitter that the person who raped me had not only been let off all civilian charges but also all military charges and was free to live his life without a second thought of what he had done to me. I was bitter that I had received notification that this person wasn't content enough with brutally abusing me but was also attempting to serve me with legal papers, notifying me that I was being sued. I was SO. UTTERLY. BITTER. The beginning of this year brought with it a change. Our circumstances and environment didn't undergo some magical transformation nor will they anytime in the near future. Regardless, something had clicked. A flip was switched in me and without telling anyone or declaring that it was a New Years Resolution, I made a decision. I was going to let it go. Everything that I was clinging to that made my life that much more difficult or unhappy was being set free. If I didn't have any control over it, it was gone. Getting on Facebook and seeing that yet another person, was having yet another baby wasn't going to ruin my week. Of course it would still be difficult and it would still tug at my heart but I wasn't going to be the girl that couldn't paste a smile on her face and say a simple, "Congratulations." No more. I wasn't going to fear my attacker. Let his lawyers try to track me down and serve me with papers. I wasn't going to hold onto so much bitterness that I didn't have room for happiness. Thinking about and talking about my attack was still going to be incredibly difficult. It would hurt like hell but all I had control over was continuing to bravely share my story and show others that its possible to pick up the pieces and get back to your life. Try my best. This was all something that just kind of occurred to me one day. I don't remember what I was doing or where I was but I remember feeling a sense of excitement, hope, and relief. October was still going to be a month that held a lot of emotion. That was inescapable and even if I could, I wouldn't want to. The best part of human existence is experiencing and feeling. Without the bad there wouldn't be good and vice versa. You can't have all the chocolate without the calories but sometimes, the chocolate is just so damn worth it. I'd decided and I dove in. In February, Loverface and I discovered I was miraculously pregnant. We shared it with the world in hopes of all the extra prayers and good juju would really help that bun stay in my oven. We were very cautiously starting to allow talk of the future and started slipping into, "When"s instead of, "If"s. I was insanely sick and growing at a fast pace. Then it all happened. Again. Our hopes were dashed, our baby was gone, and we were left empty in every possible way. Regardless of how difficult it was, we pulled ourselves back up and got back into our routines. By July it seemed as if I really had managed to grieve and tuck the heartache away more easily than in the past. It didn't hurt any less and I wasn't any less broken but I was able to handle it better for some reason. Until today. You see, today is October 15th. It's National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. It's October 15th. It's the day that was supposed to be for our Angel Baby #4. October 15, 2013. The due date that never happened. Today I am feeling broken. The words grief and sadness don't seem anywhere near adequate and the thought that this awful, huge, gaping feeling could be put into words that would come close to describing what it is to hurt like this is incomprehensible. I have hope that hope will return to me soon and I love that I know what it is to have a man who loves me the way I am loved. Its October 15th and I am feeling fractured, hollow, blank.... But I know I am blessed.
There are certain things that Military Significant Others shouldn't do while their Loverface's are gone.
Whether you're a Newbie and you're going through your first ever Military-related separation or a tried and true Milie Veteran, you know what I'm talking about. It never matters WHY they're gone, WHERE they are, or HOW LONG you'll be apart. It only matters that they are gone and it's always tough.
Some are kind of general things like not watching Military movies that will rip our hearts out and make us sick with worry or watching and reading the news like crazy.
Other things are more of a gamble and some decide to err on the side of caution. Others, either because their a glutton for punishment or have masochistic tendencies, will forego all instinct to avoid what is the inevitable outcome. Watching movies like Safe Haven, The Time Traveler's Wife, and The Notebook will have us sobbing and wanting our Boo's back for multiple reasons. Every. Single. Time.
Then there are the things that are more individualized. Things that are going to trigger something inside of us that probably wouldn't do much to another Military SO.
Some of my triggers?
Not to let myself sit on the couch for more than two episodes of certain shows otherwise it leads to an all day laziness that melts into self-pity and complete apathy about how long its been since I've eaten, gotten up and pee'd, or showered.
For me there are also some silly and odd things that set me off.
If I see a really funny TREX MEME or Grumpy Cat photo all I want to do is send it to him or show it to him. When I realize a split-second later that its impossible, I hit the Sad Button pretty quickly.
Thinking about how long its been since he shoved me over in bed because I was all up in his bidness never fails to make me well up and realizing that I haven't seen his razor plugged in to charge or his facial hair in the sink in a long time ALWAYS sets off a declaration and resolution in my head that I'll never complain about that stuff ever again once he's home.
If I find myself looking back at old blog posts there is never any doubt that its going to end in tears, my heart throbbing because I miss my Loverface oh so much, and ironically, a new blog post.
It also means I'm left pining after the man who just isn't here right now because all I need to feel better is a smile and a hug from him.
All of us Milie's KNOW there are things we shouldn't do while our loved ones are gone.
