Sandy Update

The last "live" post you got from me was exactly two months ago, on 10/30. We were still staying with friends. While we're not there anymore, I'm sad to say we're not yet home. We've since stayed with grandparents, parents, and traveled to fill in the gap. We're now renting a house. It hasn't been easy but we're still so lucky. Our house took on a basement-full of water, destroying all of our utilities, washer/dryer, freezer, some personal stuff, our main floor floors, and most damaging -- our foundation. We moved into this rental space two weeks ago today. Sadly, it's in better shape than our preSandy house, though smaller. Our house will take a couple more months to fix, and on top of that, we decided to take advantage of being displaced and doing renovations so were doing a lot of our own renovations (can you say staircase, FINALLY). So you can tack on at least another couple months to that. Thus the reason we decided to rent a house.

I'm not gonna lie- it's sucked. The Goose asks everyday to "go now". Every.Day. Do you know how heartbreaking that is? No? Okay, now imagine you're a stranger and he begins in on his sob story of "our house broken. Daddy fix it. We at new house". Now is your heart broken? Yes? That's what I thought. But seriously, while he's noticed the difference and I know he senses we're not "home", he has transitioned well overall. Sleep took minimal adjustment, and the kid's got a bigger room (and bc of Christmas, more toys). We're settled in mostly okay, though it's a little difficult having half of your stuff in storage and the other half squished into an even smaller house that came furnished (which means we're paying a ridiculous amount in storage bc we needed to put more furniture than we wanted there instead of here). But, again, we're so lucky. We're not sleeping on air beds or putting people out of their rooms so we can crash. We truly are lucky.

And here are some of the things that help us remember that:
We had comparatively little damage compared to so many of our friends and neighbors.
One family friend had their entire home flood and lost everything they own. Their insurance is only covering the minimum. Complete Flood insurance is just not possible to get in our zone, so their story is the same as everyone else. Added to that is that their new location has the wife commuting 2.5 hrs in and out each day (that's 5 hrs total).
Another good friend had her basement and some of the first floor flood. Her parents' master suite is in the basement and they did clear out most of the important stuff before the storm. But what they forgot about was that they had kept some of their son's mementos down there. Their son who died on 9/11. I literally cried when my friend told me that. I can't even explain what heartache this must have caused them.
My best friend's home is built on the water, on stilts. Her house will be knocked down shortly. She is 30 years old and owns a two story home on her own... impressive. And now she doesn't know how she'll pay for what her insurance won't cover. My heart is breaking.
Two family friends, mother and daughter/son in law lost everything. Their homes are gutted floor to roof. FEMA has denied them and insurance will not cover so much of what needs to be done.
Everyone has lost at least one car, usually more, including ourselves.
My hometown is so unrecognizable. It brings me to tears every time I'm there. People are still without power. The boardwalk is gone. Homes, buildings, businesses are all gone. And it's the same here and everywhere hit.
It is literally unbelievable. It's devastating. It's heartbreaking. It's just...horrible.

I'm sorry to be doing this so much lately, but that's all I've got right now. I promise, there is also so much good going on. SO MUCH. And I can't wait to tell those stories. Because they're what really matters in all of this. The good is triumphing and you'll hear all about it...

Still here

I wrote the below post on 10/25. I never finished and then Sandy came. I'll be writing up a post on all things going on with us and how we're making out, but for now, this needed to be put out there. It's still unfinished, but I couldn't dare pretend to be back in that place. I just want to remember it.








Yes, it's been a while, but I'm still alive (physically, at least). From where we left off, it's been a bit of hell. Part of me thought of writing everything down, documenting. Because it was others' stories about their experience that helped me. But I didn't. I couldn't. Maybe I will someday. I just know I don't really want to go back there.

Here's the short story:
We waited for things to happen naturally.
They didn't.
I took Cytotec, in which I met my darkest hour as a human being yet. Physical torments combined with the emotional. Yes, my own personal hell.
Went along for two weeks thinking all was fine.
Checkup still showed "tissue".
After a month and a half of darkness and trying to avoid it, I ended up having a D&C.

It's like my body wanted me to experience all three ways of ending a miscarriage so that the rawness of this really stung down to my bones. I never, EVER want to go through it again. EVER. Do you hear me God?

It's amazing how many people experience this. I knew the numbers were high. But after having to tell some people (for work and other reasons), it really just makes a small part of my barely-alive heart die to hear how many times this happens. A distant friend of mine had 5 miscarriages. FIVE. Thank God she's currently pregnant, but not without it's own complications - she lost one of the two miracles she was supposed to be meeting.

I just don't know how I even feel about it all now. I'm obviously happy that the whole physical part of it is over. But how do I move forward? I will never, ever forget that there was once a little soul living within me. But that ache for another child; a sibling, to be pregnant again, it grows even impossibly stronger every.single.day. Stronger than the fear that something could happen again. And, call me stupid, but I just feel in my heart that our next time will work out. I know that whatever happens is our story -- meant to be. But I'm just torn about how much it feels like this will one day be a forgotten memory. I mean, I know it won't. But I can't help but feel like, now that all the raw pain has faded somewhat, will this be "no big deal" the way it was before any of this happened? Will I always feel like I lost a child, and not just an early pregnancy? Because that's how it felt - that I had lost a child. But I honestly can say that a lot of the initial stinging-loss is gone. Is it simply because we're already moving forward? I just don't want to feel like this was all just another "1 in 4". I want to know that I'll always keep this experience, and little one, close to my heart.