Grief. Depression. Postpartum.

I am in beautiful Virginia!

Everyday our only goal is to have fun and make memories.

We are in a new little apartment, we have a gorgeous pool, fabulous workout room, and endless amounts of beach, sunshine, and free time.

There are no schedules, no practices, no callings, no games, no carpools, no tournaments, or competitions. 

I have no paperwork to turn in, no, clients to see, no work stress, or drama.

I suppose that's why I have started to breakdown. 

No distractions.

I wrote the post the other day, and that was the beginning of my mind, and my heart trying to process.

I looking up postpartum after miscarriage. Is it normal? Is it common? What is it?

I think that as I was being told that my baby died, and that I had options as to how to pass it, I had to plan around State Softball, and Work, and Preschool, and Dance, and Practices, and Packing and not get to actually stop and process and grieve. 

Then, that I had to do it without Cody. That this baby that we created, wanted, and were told we should have, was only a part of our life with him gone. And I had to do this, with out  him. Why couldn't he have flown home for the day? Why couldn't he have come home and held me for the weekend after? Ya, there are so many layers to heal.

I talked with Jessica. Wise Jessica from Pineview 204. Who, even after busy schedules and life, and not communicating much in past years, validated me and comforted me and taught me. She was able to put into words the feelings that were jumbled in my soul. She said, 'the minute you find out you are pregnant you change you life to fit this new being. You make plans' envisioning the next christmas with your new baby, your life in virginia; pregnant, telling your work, how to change around rooms, buying clothes, adding additional 4 years of child raising.  And, your body changes. 'Your hormones change huge, then at a miscarriage have such a short time to try and rearrange Again.'  14 lbs in 6 weeks. pregnancy. hormones. reality.  She told me it's ok. I can be whatever I am right now, and it's ok.

I questioned the difference between Grief. Depression. Postpartum. I talked to Cody, and he finally talked to me rather than looking at me like I was crazy. I am smack dab in the middle of grief. But, it is sprinkled with a dose of hormones. Yesterday was a very big day of healing my feeling of crazy, and accepting I am ok. ish. I will survive. I may still cry. I may still question. It may take awhile before I even want to be touched.  But, I will survive. 

Don't know how to process.

I can't imagine that this is healthy. I feel like I am in a dream. I am relying on a few things that I believe are reality, but I worry that as time keeps ticking by, even those glimmers of realness may slip.

If I were to show those 3 previous sentences to a psychiatrist would he deem me crazy?

Here are the things that I am holding on to as hard facts of reality.

I had two pregnancy tests that showed positive. 

I took a picture of them. Sent it to Cody. 

I waited the 10 weeks.
I saw the ultrasound, a tiny little bundle, a heartbeat. A Heartbeat. A Heartbeat. I saw it. 

The measurement was 6 weeks.

Not right. It should be bigger.
 Not possible. Cody left 8 weeks ago.
 Not growing. 

I am a numbers nerd remember. 

All I could imagine was our baby puppies. 

Slow heartbeat meant nothing we did, would change the outcome.   

Again, am I crazy.

The words, 'I'm sorry'

But still I made them do more tests. Additional ultrasounds. Prove to me my baby is dead.

I had to go into that hospital without cody. The whole experience. From sending the pictures of positive tests, to walking into the hospital for them to remove the remains of my baby. Alone. 

I am about to shatter the glass. I may not be ready. 

I don't understand the why behind this. I. We. felt like we were suppose to have another baby. A girl. Emma Rain. She came quick, and left quick. 

I don't want to do that again. But my baby for christmas. My soft baby girl. My baby. 

Why was I asked to something so hard on my mental and physical and emotional and then,   not. 

But worse.

The dr kept emphasizing that it was nothing I did. How does he know? How does he know. Was it the diet soda? Was it the tylenol for my back. Was it merely because Im 42. 

Yes, I don't know how to process this and I think the longer it goes, the more it's eating me, I look at my beautiful kids and think, where is my 6th beautiful baby. 

I don't understand miscarriage. 

I don't understand this in the eternal perspective.

I want to say, I want so much to believe that all she needed was a heartbeat. That all this exceptional Spirit needed was a heartbeat, and that she will always be my guardian angel, and my beautiful daughter on the other side of the vail. Yes. I want to believe this. 

And is this hormonal chaos because of the physical hormones, or mental. Can you have postpartum from a miscarriage? 

My heart hurts that I feel like this is a dream. That I don't understand this reality. That I don't know how to process this.

Put your bra on.

If I ever had a talk to give about being prepared. Or, a book to write about being ready, I would title it, Put Your Bra On. That's good huh?
This week was the 4 year anniversary of Cody's accident. As I got his call, and I jumped out of bed to hurry and find him, I had one split second of hesitation as I threw on my sweats, and sweatshirt. Bra or no bra? I for the most part require no bra most of the time, but it is definitely most appropriate to have it on outside my house walls. But, at 5:42 in the morning, I had no idea what the day was going to bring, and the choice to put it on was a good one. I ended being at the hospital all day and it was good I was physically prepared to be there. So, although this can go into pages of thoughts, and chapters of derivatives-  I'll leave it at this. If there is the slightest option of needing one, it is best to just go ahead and Put your Bra on. :)

2340 miles

We did it. We made it. We went from Rexburg, to Rock Springs. Then, Rocks Springs to Kansas City Missouri. Kansas City to Beckley West Virginia, and then 5616 Infinity Lane Virginia! Wowza.
Recap?
I missed the beauty of  Colorado. I saw a glimpse from a far, but super disappointed.
It rained.  A ton.
But, then, we saw some Fantastic Rainbows!
Kansas, I had two rude interactions with people. The toll lady, and the driver who flipped me off. The whole states perception is based on those two people. I did not like you and will forever have a bad memory of you. Good job two rude people.
Missouri! Wow! Pleasantly surprised! You were beautiful! What a Happy thing!
And, because in a trip of this magnitude  I only looked at the blue line from point  A to point B, and didn't zoom in on the stretch between Missouri and Kentucky.  That blue line took us through the southern end of Illinois, and Indiana. Both Fabulous. Extra little gems in the memory book.
Kentucky, unfortunately you came at the end of the day. Day three actually, and we were tired. Beatiful. Yes, not quite the horse country I was dreaming of, but I did see a retirement center for old horses, so that was the highlight.
West Virginia. so bizarre. Beautiful, yes. Own accent, yes. Very nice people. yes. But I was surprised by the feeling of St Anthony. Ha Ha, maybe a little more at home. :) Olive Garden never felt so comfortable.
And, now, here we are. Virginia is for Lovers. Never trust the GPS on estimation of minutes. That final 23 minutes to Cody seemed to grow every minute. Traffic.
What an adventure! Kids did amazing, did a lot of time on electronics, watched a few Friends seasons, and  they definitely did a lot of sleeping.

Cry Pretty - Carrie Underwood

I'm sorry, but I'm just a girl / Not usually the kind to show my heart to the world / I'm pretty good at keeping it together / I hold my composure, for worse or for better / So I apologize if you don't like what you see / But sometimes my emotions get the best of me / And falling apart is as human as it gets / You can't hide it, you can't fight what the truth

You can pretty lie and say it's okay / You can pretty smile and just walk away / Pretty much fake your way through anything / But you can't cry pretty

Oh no, you can’t dress it up in lace or rhinestones / Don't matter if you're in a crowd or home all alone / Yeah, it's all the same when you're looking in the mirror / A picture of pain, so let it flow like a river

You can pretty lie and say it's okay / You can pretty smile and just walk away / Pretty much fake your way through anything / But you can't cry pretty

You can't turn off the flood when the dam breaks / When all your mascara is going to waste / When things get ugly, you just gotta face / That you can't cry pretty

           You can't turn off the flood when the dam breaks / When all your mascara is going to waste / When things get ugly, you just gotta face / That you can't cry prettyYeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / No, you can't cry / No, you can't cry / Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, woo / You can't cry / You can't cry pretty, baby / Oh yeah, woo, woo / No, you can't cry pretty, yeah

Joy

I have been in a mind quandary about something.
Joy.
I wonder if people really have Joy, or are Joyful, or know that feeling all of the time.
Or,
I wonder if instead people are faking it.
I kinda was thinking the later.
I think people are on auto pilot, and as part of the auto is the smile, not sparked by Joy.
But, guess what, I had a little bit of a break through in my hope for human kind.
or maybe, EmilyKind.
I am definitely in auto pilot. Get up, breakfast, lunches, kids out the door, Canyon homework time, paperwork, clean, ready, daycare, work, daycare, clean up, dinner, practices, games, scriptures, bed. Be happy, be interested, be auto pilot.
But last night at the end of that auto pilot there was a little crack into actual happy enjoyment. It was 8:30 p.m. and Carsons game in blackfoot was just getting started. No wind, no rain, no snow. By ten, he had hit a home run, and by 10:15, scored the running in. We hit Wendy's and got frosty's with the absolute best fries I've had in decades. Then for the next hour drive home, we dipped those salty, crispy fries in the frosty, and celebrated! It was pure Joy! The night I was anxious about because of the lateness, the drive, the cold, ended up to be one of the most favorite things I've done in awhile. So yes, there is bits of true Joy amongst the auto pilot.
Is it because I am mormon? Or because I am a mom? Or because I am the daughter of Vicki. Why do I feel this drive that life is supposed to be good  all the time. That Joy is supposed to ooze from us. That's not realistic is it? Why do we feel the pressure of that? I don't know. But, the better thing to know is that there are bits of Joy to be found, and that I don't have to run around feeling like I'm failing because Joy isn't found in the monotony of autopilot.
So there. That's all.

Box Elder Country Justice Court

 I understand, that my writing this will probably do nothing for my case, but I do want to plead my case. I know that in theory, I could come and plead in court, but not reality. I live in Idaho. I don’t have the time, nor the means. So yes, this is just for my benefit in writing this out. Will anybody else read this? probably not, but at least I will get my words out. I was traveling home yesterday. 5 hours into my drive, with 3 little kids in crappy fast traffic. My husband is at Norfolk Naval Base in a training that is kicking his trash, and I am left to manage the remains of our family on my own.  My daughter had a dance competition in St George, that was mandatory. Did I want to go? Hell no. Can I afford to drive 8 hours one way to do dance. No. Do I have any desire to do so? no. But, I am freaking trying to be a good mom.  The officer said I was going 91. He said, “the gal ahead of you was 87, and I let her slide, but then you were right behind her.” I did not think I was going 91. I did think I was trying to navigate traffic safely and get out of the way of those utah drivers. He cited me  for going 80 in a 75, and I now am to pay $120. I actually have had a good break down and sob. First time since my husband left. I guess it’s the straw on the camels back. I will pay the fine on my credit card that is $300 from its limit. I will go to work today as a social worker and remember that people have a story. I know that there are laws to protect us. I know that the police officer was doing his job. I did not and will not talk bad about the police to my kids. But, I now have to figure out a stupid extra $120. Life is really hard. 

Thanks for you time. I do not want a response.

Emily Petersen