It has been almost five months since I said hello and goodbye to James and Penelope. My journey through grief has been slow and painful to say the least. I don't know what I expected, but I had hoped I would be in a better place by now. I thought that as the months went by I would ease into a place of less pain. Instead of feeling better, I have been feeling worse lately. The flashbacks at night as I lay in bed, the daily anxiety, irritability, crying jags and overwhelming sadness.
Last month I saw my Doctor to talk about trying some medication to help. She immediately said that I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. I had never even thought of that as a possibility. I thought PTSD was something that happened to veterans of war or rape victims. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. In a matter of hours I went from being a happy, healthy pregnant lady to watching my newborn son and daughter die right in front of my eyes. Of course I am traumatized.
Now that I have a name for what I am experiencing I feel a sense of calm. I know that these feelings are real and that they are there for a reason. I also know that I can be helped through therapy and medication. Next week I start a new method of therapy called EMDR, eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. It should help my brain process the trauma and develop better coping skills. I will also be starting yoga classes next week in hopes that I can learn some relaxation and breathing techniques. Later this month, I am attending a private working shop titled "Healing Birth Memories". It is designed to help mothers cope with the memories of a traumatic birth.
Through these past five months I have learned something about myself. I am a fighter. I do not sit back and idly let bad things happen. I jump in with both feet and take action. Instead of accepting my fear and anxiety I am attacking it with every tool that I have access to. I will not let this break me down, I will get through it and I will be a better person for it.