Remembering to Breathe

I’ve commented before that a big part of my new normal is that I have to remember to breathe. Even nearly a year and a half later, there are still moments where I have to sit and tell myself “just breathe.” Some days, that seems like the only thing that I can do. Just keep breathing, and hopefully that horribly difficult moment will pass.

I haven’t breathed deeply in a very long time. I try, in those moments where I remind myself to breathe, but I can’t. When I attempt to take in a deep breath, I can feel something inside of me that stops it short. It’s like I can feel the wall in my lungs and heart that just won’t let it happen.

Yesterday was a big reminder to me in my quest to just breathe. We had a big doctor’s appointment. I kept calling it our “do or die” test because it was. This was the test that would determine whether our surgery in November was successful, and if we could move forward with IVF. If the test showed the scar tissue and adhesions had returned, it would mean that I was unable to carry a child. I probably sound dramatic, but it was the big one as far as tests go. We have come to not expect much in the way of good news from our doctors anymore, so much to our surprise, we got it. Adhesion free and cleared to continue. 

Every time I think about getting that good news, I exhale deeply. It happened all day yesterday, and it’s still happening today (I just did it again as I typed that). Yesterday, I was struck by how odd this deep exhale felt. It was then that I realized that I’ve been holding my breath for months. It hasn’t been a conscious act – just the anxiety of not knowing how things would turn out. Yesterday, I breathed a little lighter and a little fuller. It felt good, but it also felt very strange.

I am, once again, very aware of my breathing. I have my deep exhale in knowing that my dream to carry and bring another child into this world (one we get to raise, please) is still alive. I still can’t take that full breath in that I’d like, but I’m making progress. Little by little, the ability to breathe without telling myself to breathe is coming back.

But I know not to get too comfortable in this state. There will be something that will knock the wind out of me again. It doesn’t have to be more tragedy – it’s as simple as a day when I’m missing my children more than I know what to do with. That day will come again and again over the course of my lifetime. And I will have to remind myself to breathe again. But at least I know I can work my way back.

When I started writing this blog, the topic of breathing was on my mind. But as I finish writing the blog now, I realize that it is January 18. One year ago today, I miscarried our second child. It was a very different experience than losing Vivienne. We got very little time to be hopeful and make plans for this little one. But this child was just as wanted, loved, and wished for as any child, and a part of our family. We gave this baby the symbol of a sun, as we'd just taken a vacation to Florida. So it's no coincidence that the sun was shining strongly all day today.As I looked out into the sunshine, I know that it's our Baby Sunshine telling us hello.

And there’s that deep exhale again, but for a very different reason.