Month: January 2015

Missing my little one.

Posted on by jwhitworth7

My world is missing. He’s not here. 
Sometimes that reality hits me harder than others. Tonight is one of those nights where reality snuck up and slapped me in the face yet again. 
I miss him so very much. It’s as if one day your world finally made sense and then something or someone took one of your limbs, or your sight, or your ability to experience emotions. How would you deal? How would you continue on? How would you cope and heal? These aren’t easy questions and there aren’t any answers. The fact of the matter is you just get up every day and you just do and you go to sleep that night and you wake up and do it all again. Nothing really ever changes. Yes, emotions are less heightened at times and your pain isn’t as raw and intense at some points in a given day but you are still missing what was taken from you. You can’t do what you once loved to do without remembering that your life is not complete. 
My arms are empty but my heart is whole because I had him. I just wish the latter didn’t always ache so much because he isn’t here. 

Safe Zones.

Posted on by jwhitworth7

Safe Zone: “an area in which a human being feels safe- usually some place familiar, where they feel they have some control over what happens.”
I often tell my AP Psychology students to get out of their comfort zone, especially when analyzing themselves. And now I find myself not wanting to go outside of my safe zones. Where are these places where I feel like I’m in control?
1) my house, obviously
2)work
3)pool
4)my running trails
5)my walking trails (as long as it is before 10:00 on the weekends for reasons I won’t take the time to explain here). 
I went outside of my safe zones on Saturday. We went to dinner with our friend. We have gone out to dinner several times since our son was born but tonight we saw someone we had not seen since June. One of Walt’s co-residents was coming out of the restaurant as we were going in. I instantly knew it was not going to be good and I started to fixate on whether or not she would say anything or if she was going to be one of those people who chooses to ignore it. I never thought about what actually did happen. Next thing I know I’m in the bathroom of the restaurant crying. Why? Because the words “congratulations” came out of her mouth while she peaked her head around Walt as if looking for something. The words “congratulations” not “I’m sorry” or “how are you?" 
I don’t know what my face did all I know is my body went running. "Must find a safe zone!” Thoughts running through my head “what do I do?? What the fuck? Why?” I  needed comfort. I ​ ​knew the only thing that would help me at that moment was to talk to someone who has gone through this. Danielle knew exactly what to say. She helped me pull my self together. Small victories. ​
Somewhere in between me picking at my food and wanting to drown my sorrows I started to get sad. Why did I run? Why didn’t I use it as an opportunity to talk about my son and to share my story. Why didn’t I ask her to keep us in our thoughts or to think about our son when she experiences joy? I can only come to the conclusion that I did what anyone who has just gotten the wind knocked out of them would do.
 Danielle and my mom have since reassured me that the next time something like this happens I will be able to react in a way that may make me feel like I am more in control of the situation. I know it sounds crazy but I almost feel like I need to write out a​ dialogue and go over it as though I’m preparing for a lecture or important presentation. I have to hear myself say the words out loud so that when I do have to use them I’m not fumbling. Just like a piano player practices for a recital I’m practicing for the next time someone or something tr​ies to knock me off my feet.
One of the reasons I wanted to start swimming was to get out of my comfort zone and try something new​. If doing something​ like swimming was so easy for me​ why then is it hard for me to do the things I used to once love, like being social? Why do I avoid going to faculty meetings? Why do I avoid social obligations with those who might not give me what I need emotionally? I’m not an anxious person but then again I am not the same person I used to be. For now, I’ll remain in my safe zone and hopefully one day I will slowly welcome new ones.
​"I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn.
Memories like bullets they fired at me from a gun.
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days, despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I’m not giving in.
I swim"​

My son. My life.

Posted on by jwhitworth7

A few months ago my sister encouraged me to follow a yogi on instagram who tragically lost her son a few days after being born at term. It took me a while to figure out what happened and my heart goes out to her and her family. Unlike me, she’s been very vocal about her loss on social media​ (she’s got a crazy number of followers from her yoga activities) and recently posted something that spoke to me. I can often relate to the things that she writes about but this one was one that I found particulary intriguing. Here is an excerpt:

“It’s ironic – people assume that I must not want to talk about my pregnancy because my baby died, and I often feel like I shouldn’t talk about it. Yet, becoming a mother is the single most important thing that has happened to me in my entire life. Wouldn’t you want to talk about the most important thing that has ever happened in your life?”

My first reaction after reading the post “I know, girl….I know!” It’s amazing that people aren’t secure enough to just come out and talk to you about your pregnancy, your child, and the aftermath that you’ve been left with. I have sat through meals and meetings where people will ask you about everything other than what you want them to ask you about. And again, I get that they are “scared” but fuck it. If you really cared you would ask and the only reason I know this is because those that do really care do in fact, ask. Because like Amelia said in her post my son being born is the most important thing that has ever happened to me and I want to talk about it! I’m sorry that makes some people feel uncomfortable but I’m good so you need to get your shit together and pick up the phone and call. Or instead of talking about everything else under the sun let’s talk about something that is meaningful to me. I continue to be amazed at who speaks up and who doesn’t. A student will ask how I am or give me a hug yet adults don’t know what to do. Another irony. 

This week has been amazing for me in regards to my relationships with people. I have had over FIVE people this week ask me how I am doing. FIVE PEOPLE who aren’t my immediate family members!!! It’s like they all had a pow wow and said “let’s check on her this week!!!” Most of these people are people that I am not super close to (except you Ms. Liz!) but yet they wanted to show me that they are thinking about me. It was amazing and I made sure to let all of them know how much I appreciated them. I made sure to let all of them know that they are amazing people for just having the balls to ask me how I am doing. I have felt more comfortable talking about my son’s birth and death story. And yes there are days where I don’t want to talk about it but you shouldn’t just assume today is one of those days. So thank you, all of you for letting me talk!

I volunteered to time at the swim meet last night and ended up getting paired with the mom of my favorite girl, Ayla. Her mom is just as amazing as she is (runs in the family I guess) and we spent quite a bit of time talking about lots of things including our children!!! Oh my! I loved it! I felt like for the first time I was able to talk about my son openly to someone who knew what happened but had not seen me since giving birth! She didn’t stray away from the conversation, she asked questions, and she cared!!!! It was AMAZING!!

My son is my life and he will forever be my life. So feel free to ask me about him, feel free to ask me how I’m doing without him being physically here. Feel free to let me share his story with you. 

A new year, a new you.

Posted on by jwhitworth7

Several times in the months of September and October I would say “I want to sleep until January.” I didn’t want to celebrate any of the holidays, I didn’t want to see commercials or hear songs dealing with that time of the year, I wanted to hibernate. I wanted to forget the rest of 2014 because the day my son was born and died I was robbed of the happiness that year was supposed to bring. 
I welcomed 2015 with open arms and hoped that I might feel different in the new year. I was wrong. In fact, I am now saddened that it is no longer the year in which my son was born. I didn’t realize this until I spoke out loud about it this past week in my support group. Instead of the new year bringing about renewed hope I feel sad that as time passes I feel farther and farther away from my son. I am still trying to figure out what I can do to honor and remember him. I’ve said that giving back is important to me and the holidays were a great time to do that. I am now left with no plan of action on how to continue that and I must figure it out soon.
As we try to being to think about conceiving again the mix of emotions I get is almost unbearable. Of course I will be anxious and worried and scared as I know the reality of what can happen to my future baby at any point in time. I guess I was just taken aback by how the thought of conceiving again brings sadness to my heart. Because no matter how many children I go on to conceive or give birth to they will never be my son. I had this weird moment on Thursday while getting dressed. I was consumed by the fact that all of the joy and pride that comes along with saying “my first born child” will always be heartbreak for me. No matter how many children come after him he is my first born. It does bring my joy that my future children will know about him and will always have a guardian angel. I miss him more each day. The ache I have in my soul for him is something I could never begin to describe. 
As time passes I have also realized that I am expected to get back to my “normal self.” Perhaps this is pressure that I place on my self but I do feel as though some might think that I am “recovered.” The fact of the matter is the day before my son was born I was a different person than who I am now. My “normal self” is now my “old self” and who I am now is a direct result of my son. His little life sure has made a huge impact on mine. 
While we were talking about this in support group, Sally, the amazing woman who runs the program, asked if I felt like people had stopped checking on me. I guess a general answer to that question would be “yes.” I mean I talk to people every day and no one asks “how are you doing?” and really means it in a way where I can answer genuinely. Even those closest to me have chosen to ignore that question as it’s much  more convenient for them. But some have risen to the occasion and even though they might not be directly asking me “how are you emotionally doing since your son is no longer with you” I know their actions are asking just that. But I need to talk. Sally suggested that I have one person who I can ask “can you just please asking me how I am doing until I tell you to stop." 
And so I am asking YOU to be that person.