Coming Full Circle

The last time I was here, in Michigan, I had a miscarriage on the plane ride over.  Well, actually, the miscarriage happened in one of the bathrooms at the Minneapolis St. Paul airport, but never mind about that.  It was my second miscarriage, and it really tore me apart.  I’ve never experienced depression like that before.  Even though once we arrived at the lake house we were in such a beautiful place, all I could do was lie on the bed and cry.  About 3 days into our visit, I emailed my shrink because I knew I couldn’t climb out of the hole I was in on my own.

So, this time – I’m here with my daughter.  Even now, I can hear her crying to breastfeed, her first nursling session of the day.  My husband is in the bedroom with her, trying to rub enough of the fog from his eyes to bring her to me.  I’m stuck on this couch in the living room, can’t go get her myself, because I have a broken leg.  It seems like every time I come here, there’s something wrong with me.  The last time I was here I was just so terrified I’d never become a mother.  This time, I’m injured because I’m a mother.  And I’m happy that it was me instead of her, of course.

Having a broken ankle is a lot harder than I thought it would be.  There’s a balance between needing to ask for help and not being a nuisance that I’m having a hard time finding.  I need, for instance, to bathe more frequently (otherwise I smell like a monkey!) but I feel bad asking Nick to do it – it just takes so much time and effort it seems like too much trouble, but then I’m so uncomfortable if it doesn’t happen.  I can make it to the bathroom by myself most of the time now, but it is a lot easier if I have help.  And I am not capable of getting any food for myself, or changing locations without assistance.  I have always had a hard time asking for help.  I’ve always wanted to be the tough one, the person that could take care of herself – if I was having a hard time, I didn’t want anyone to know about it.

Gratitude is a funny thing.  I’m happy that, from my command center on the couch, I can still see the lake.  I’m so grateful to have my daughter that it makes experiencing 2 miscarriages acceptable somehow.  I’m thrilled to have a broken leg instead of my girl getting hurt.  And I know all of this to be true, from a distance.  However, being in the middle of it is not easy.