The journey back to me

I have on occasion joked with my husband that when something happens that upsets me, for example the day our pool pump, air conditioner and fridge blew up I said to him that "It felt like a tiny piece of my soul had snapped off and died." On the morning I woke up to find out I had lost my baby a chunk of my soul broke off and left me laying there totally incapable of recognising myself. I didn't look like me when I looked in the mirror, I didn't sound like me when I spoke, I didn't feel like me physically,mentally or spiritually.

When I went to the shower I wouldn't look in the mirror, when I walked around the ward I wouldn't look for my reflection, when I did see my reflection I didn't recognise it. It was a total out of body experience on every level. I hadn't just lost my baby, I had lost me too.

There were a few contributing factors at the time. The surgery, like most surgeries left me feeling like I had been hit by a succession of buses. Double decker ones at that. The swelling in my legs made me feel like a baby elephant that had gone all homo errectus on the planet. I was so embarrassed I had the choice of a male nurse or my husband to shower me...hmmm.....it was a toss up let me tell you. Do I go with the guy I don't know, who doesn't care and in a couple of weeks will never have to see again, or do I go with the guy who loves me immensely, who still looks scared at the thought of losing me and who can compare this monstrosity of a body to the one he married merely 6 months earlier? Well as far as hubby was concerned there was no choice, another bit of my soul snapped off and died.

One day my husband said to me he was surprised I had any pieces left. I couldn't help but wonder, how much of "me" was left behind? Where had I gone and was I ever coming back.

After my recovery the knee jerk reaction was buying a property on the mainland. One that we cant afford, had to borrow up to the eyeballs for and well to be honest is falling apart at the seams.My son names the houses we have lived in, the new house, the blue house and now he calls our house, "the rusty old house"  I was shocked, we have lived in some shocking houses in appalling environments and he calls the one house that we have actually financially invested in "the rusty old house" I understand that our 4 year old doesn't envision the potential my husband and I saw in this house when we bought it. I was pretty young when I learnt the lesson, "don't try and fix someone with potential when they cant see it themselves"

 My house doesn't see its potential, my house has been hit by a succession of buses.  I'm starting to believe that our house is a reflection of me. We repair, patch and recover what we can with what little resources we have and just when we think we are moving forward we fall 3 steps behind. Its not my imagination and I'm not over exaggerating which I have been known to do. With reference to the fridge pool and air conditioner earlier on, this is not a joke.All 3 blew up in one day!! We called in the electrician believing that there must have been a surge through the house.It couldn't possibly have been a coincidence, we couldn't possibly be that unlucky could we? Yep....it was and we can!!

I was the one stupid enough one day to mention that the only room in this house that doesn't need work is the toilet. Within a few days the cistern fell off. I ask myself what is going on? I ask my husband, to which the reply is just a shake of the head and a lie down.

I was beginning to be consumed by all the events surrounding me. I felt like I was picked up and placed on a shelf,out of the way so that everything else could be dealt with. I didn't have the time to deal with me, everything else is falling apart. My healing can wait, my grieving can wait, my soul can wait, I can wait!

Truth is...you don't wait. In actual fact you fall to bits and wonder why everything around you is in tatters. My sister refers to it as "the universe poking its finger in your eye" I knew I wasn't myself but i wasn't going to admit to anyone let alone myself that I wasn't coping.

My Mum bit the bullet and wrote a card to the angry beast that used to be me, and dared to broach the subject of "therapy" I was angry, I wanted to slap her across the face and tell her if anyone needed therapy it was her. Which in a lot of ways is true however, when I took a deep breath and thought about it, godammit she was right, again. It doesn't matter how many times it has happened or how right she is it always shits me. So even though I knew she was right it still took another 4 weeks before I would talk to her about it.

I caught up with an old friend who has since become a reiki practitioner. She told me Reiki was really good for treating post traumatic stress which is what I diagnosed myself with after searching my symptoms on the internet.As you do! God knows I'm not going to a doctor, well for one I have a few major trust issues after what happened to me in the beginning and two I have a major phobia of anti depressants.(which doesn't make any sense I know because they are used to rid the mind of phobias)  can anyone hear Alannis in the background singing "Isn't it ironic??"

So.....I booked in with a reiki practitioner. After one session I felt more positive in my outlook. I didn't have a panic attack for 8 days which had been a daily occurrence up until then.I slept through the night. I suddenly had a much more positive outlook on everything (including the house), I felt safe and hadn't had the urge to bawl my eyes out at all for the first time since my surgery.

I have had 2 sessions now, and both times I have had a very positive response. I recommend contacting a local reiki practitioner if you are on a journey of healing yourself. I didn't think it would work for me but it has made a huge difference to my life in such a short period of time.

I would love to try for another baby,but I am reluctant to start until I feel like I have healed from what has happened to me. I need to feel like a whole person again before I can honestly say I am ready for a baby. Its hard knowing that my chances of conceiving are much lower than what they were before my ectopic pregnancy and the chances of another ectopic are quite high. (15% chance) Tic Toc ....   Tic Toc ....

This is the start of my journey back to me. Its a slow start, Ive come across a few red lights and round-abouts along the way but I'm giving it a red hot go regardless. I am determined and willing to do anything to put all of my pieces back together.

We came home yesterday to the sound of a waterfall streaming off the side of our roof. It turns out the hot water system blew up while we were out looking for a new toilet. "No way you say?" Oh Yes way....yes....way!!!!!!So its sponge baths for the next few nights until we can afford a plumber. What was that? Did I hear another piece of my soul just snap off ?

Even though it feels as though the universe permanently has its finger in my eye, I will try to be positive and believe that everything will be okay.
Please let me know your coping mechanism? What advice were you given that helped you to heal? Please suggest something for me to do to help me on my journey!


Think pink

Janey

Where it began.

On the 12th of November, 2011 at three o'clock in the morning I regain consciousness in a hospital bed. Everything is blurry, I hear a friendly voice but moments later it all goes black again. I hear my name being called, I open my eyes to see an angel at the foot of my bed. She has a grey bob and glasses. She looks exhausted and somewhat angry. She tells me her name and says "You scared me Jane and I don't scare easily. You lost a lot of blood and needed a full transfusion.Ive contacted your husband and told him you are in recovery"
The logical part of my brain that was still able to function under copious amounts of morphine asked, "Is the baby okay?"

Living on a small island off the north coast of Australia has its limitations. Only two weeks earlier I had been to the health clinic to have my first scan. I had been experiencing pain down my right side. It wasn't constant, so it seemed to be of no concern. I hear the familiar fart sound as the cold gel is spurted on my abdomen. I look to the ceiling feeling that all too familiar pang of pain in my bladder.Just hoping I don't piss myself on the table when i hear " oh there it is.Right there.Yep it looks about 5 and a half weeks. Does that sound about right to you Jane? Can you see that there? I can even make out a little heart beat."

I could not see a thing. But then again, I'm not a health professional. So with a sigh of relief I wipe the gel off and get up off the table. I walked home, eager to tell my husband that our four year old son was wrong! We were not expecting twins!

The baby was not okay. The baby was taken out, along with my right fallopian tube. I had experienced an ectopic rupture.A laparotomy.  I was left empty, with staples from my belly button down to an inch above my lady bits. Lost in the confusion, alone and petrified.

My bum began to itch and suddenly I remembered. It had only been a few hours since I had said good bye to my husband, on the bitumen runway at the tiny airport on the island. With my Lily white ass hanging out the back of the gown they had put me in, prepped for surgery and being eaten alive by sand flies. I was not allowed to move my arms. My husband kneels down behind me and rubs my bum for me. I had said goodbye and I love you for what felt like the last time. I asked him to remind our son of who I am. "don't let him forget me."  The expression on his face when I said this was "Jane, your such a drama queen" but laying there on the tarmac while a paramedic and a doctor manually pumped two units of blood into my collapsed veins, while trying to register a blood pressure so that I could fly made it pretty clear to him and me, I was dying.

As fate had it there was only room for one on the helicopter.Which meant the agony of choosing between coming with me or staying with my son was taken out of the equation. I thanked God. Its only happened 4 times in my 32 years of life. I thanked God when my son survived his birth, I thanked god when my mother pulled through a very late diagnosis of pneumonia sepsis I thanked God when my plane landed after some air turbulence had convinced me i was plummeting to my death and I thanked God that my husband didn't have to watch me die.

I don't know how many times in passing Ive heard that we soil ourselves just before we die and thought nothing of it. I was laying still, arms wide apart like I was being crucified and humming in tune with the sound of the careflight helicopter, consumed by the excruciating pain and an overwhelming sense of pissed offness that i hadn't got life insurance when suddenly it happened and there was nothing i could do, but cry. The interesting thing was I didn't panic, your brain needs blood to panic and there wasn't enough of that going around.

It is scary, when the surgeon who has just saved your life looks you in the eye and says, "some people would say, it just wasn't your time"

It wasn't my time, I just wish it hadn't been such a fine line though.

This is my journey. I don't always move forward, sometimes i move backwards.But I'm learning that that is okay. Its all part of the healing. The panic attacks, the nightmares, the fears, the anxiety, the irrational thoughts and the constant wishing I was the person I was before this happened to me. Before my world was shattered.

I still have a lot of questions and I wont stop looking for answers. This should never have happened the way that it did. Ive worked out why, now I just have to work out how to change it.

 Ectopic pregnancies happen in 1 of every 100 pregnancies in Australia alone. Women are still dying from ectopic ruptures, in Australia. This doesn't need to happen at all anymore. The sad thing is, most women wont  be educated on ectopic pregnancy until they experience one themselves and that I am truly sorry for. If an ectopic pregnancy diagnosis, treatment or rupture has led you here please share with me your stories so that we can educate other women. I wish you peace, love and healing. You are not alone, you are safe.

Think pink.

Janey