So per usual, October has snuck up on me, and I am three days into it and I had forgotten all about the Capture Your Grief project. As much as I love Carly Marie and her words and her ideas for this project, this year, I am just not feeling it. So rather than not do it because I cannot think of what to do for each day's topic, I decided to do something on my own this year.
I am going to copy her model by starting out the month (or the 3rd day of the month) with a sunrise, and end it with a sunset, because well, who doesn't love them and it's a beautiful way to book-end the month. But I've decided each day (and it might not even be each day, I'll just write when I feel like it) I'll write about a different experience with Kayla, be it a happy memory, a bad day, a way in which I helped heal myself, etc. I guess just wherever the day takes me.
So this morning's sunrise was taken somewhere between Ann Arbor Mi and Canton, Mi. My husband actually took it, because as the father of our lost daughter, I think it is a nice way to include him in a project that he is likely to not be a part of otherwise. Ok...so maaaaaybe I partly have him take the pic because he works midnights and is just getting off work at that time, and I am still snoozing. BUT, it still makes for a nice way to include him.
So today I want to write about something that helped heal me...or at least maybe was a small start to healing, even though everyone knows the path to healing is a squiggly mess that turns and dips and backtracks a million times. But, every little bit helps I guess. It was about a week after our loss, and my husband and his friend were going to go work out at the gym. I decided to come too...before we had gotten married I had gotten into really good shape and was eating well and working out a lot. After our wedding, I gained a few pounds back, but the weight really starting coming back once we starting trying to conceive and had problems right from the start.
As the months went by with no baby, I got more and more determined to get the weight I had gained off, certain that it would bring my periods and ovulation back, but all that did was put on so much pressure to lose, that I experienced the opposite affect. After about a year of TTC, and already having had one loss, I had officially gained back all of the weight I had lost, and those pounds even brought a few friends with them. So needless to say, I was not at all at my ideal weight when I got pregnant with Kayla. But I had GD, so I had to stick to a strict diet, and I managed to not gain a single pound in the 22 weeks with her.
So the only silver lining I could find, was now that I was no longer pregnant, and no longer diabetic, I could get back into working hard to lose the weight, so I jumped at the chance to go to the gym and start my healthy journey. I was only about a week postpartum, so I decided I was going to take it easy for my first time back, and just walk on the treadmill. My body was still healing, and despite not gaining anyway, I was totally out of shape, and exhausted. As I walked, I felt like people could read it on my face, like I had a big sign above my head, telling the world of my recent heartbreak. To my surprise, I kept upping the speed on the treadmill, and with each speed bump, the lump in my throat grew, my eyes filled with tears and a good song came on with a good beat, so I upped it some more to the point where I had to run to keep up.
Normally when I run on the treadmill (which isn't often, I am NOT a runner, even in my best shape, I just do not enjoy it and cannot go long before I am totally out of breathe) I do a very slow jog, perhaps even the speed that some very tall people may walk quickly at (have I mentioned I am short...like 5'2, these legs don't move very fast). Basically I am not doing much more than just walking fast in a jogging position. But that night, I wiped away the tears and I ran. I ran as fast as I could, and it felt amazing! It felt like with each step, I was kicking my grief's ass. I was so angry, I could feel it build and build, and the running just felt so good and counteracted it. I'm not sure if I was running away from something, or to something, but for that few minutes I felt strong and empowered.
When my high ran out, I slowed to a walk, and then decided I was done for the night. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. My husband and his friend were over in the weight section. We had rode with his friend, but we lived just a couple blocks away so I decided to leave then, and just walk home. So I went to find my husband to tell him I was leaving. He knew I had planned on taking it easy, and he had seen me running and asked why I decided to run. I opened my mouth to answer but I got shakey and the tears sprang back into my eyes. With a quivering voice I told him I was so angry and it felt good to run it off. Without missing a beat, he told me "there's no crying! There's no crying at the gym"! And I laughed, and wiped my tears and I am pretty sure I blew snot out of my nose when I laughed.
So then I walked home alone in the dark, and I felt good. I felt "wrung out" but good. Who would have thought I quick run on the treadmill and a quiet walk home in the dark would be so healing, but it was one of the first times I felt like I had made some real progress confronting my grief since we had lost her. I felt like I had control, and that is a very important emotion when everything around you is so very obviously out of control.
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