Stress

Every day in the United States alone, 26 babies are stillborn.

This is Ruth's story:

umm, hi.

i don't have any leather pants to strap on, as i have been invited to do on the homepage, but i'm gonna share my story. i'm 37 years old, happily married, and the proud mother of three (living) children.

last year, almost this exact time of year, i found out i was pregnant with our fourth child. the news came as a bit of a surprise, as i was on the pill, and we'd thought we were "done" - our kids are 12, 10, and 8.

after the initial shock wore off, we were thrilled. it was going to be so much fun this time around, knowing what we already know about having kids and whatnot. all the stress of just keeping the little buggers alive and well until they started school was behind us. we could relax and just enjoy having a little one to hold and snuggle.

at our 20 week ultrasound, we discovered that it was a girl we named ruth, and her umbilical cord had only two blood vessels instead of the usual three.

the doctor explained the problems this could cause, and after educating ourselves about the risks involved, we felt confident that we could handle whatever GOD chose to bring our way. her due date was set for january 11, 2013. because mine was considered a high-risk pregnancy, i had weekly ultrasounds scheduled for the last two months of the pregnancy.

on january 2, just nine days before our due date, my ultrasound revealed that there was no heartbeat. ruth was dead.

i headed to labor and delivery to be induced. early the next morning, I delivered my baby girl who had already left this world.

the pain and shock have been enormous. i am so grateful to my husband for being my strength over these last 4 months. he lost a daughter too, but somehow he manages to rise above his grief when i need him.

our families have been wonderful, letting me grieve in my own way, never judging, always loving. we never did find out what happened; why she died. now the big question is, do we want to try for another baby? we know we can't replace the one we lost, but it just seems so sad to end our baby-making years with a tragedy.

if anyone reading this is interested, Jason Collins, MD of knoxville, tennessee is an ob-gyn studying the causes and risk factors for stillbirth. i was able to get in contact with him after losing ruth, and discovered that this tragedy is all too common: every day in the united states alone, 26 babies are stillborn.

i'd become concerned during the last few weeks of my pregnancy that the baby wasn't moving enough, but when i contacted my doctor, i was told that it was fine; babies slow down as they get bigger.

listen up, everybody! babies DO NOT slow down. all pregnant moms: do a kick count. be a pain in your doctor's ass. drive the nurses at the hospital crazy. do whatever it takes for that little one.

s/he is counting on you.

GOD bless all of you who read this. GOD bless ALL the unborn babies.

thanks, the band, for letting me have the floor for a moment.

love,

bean

We all do so much for other people. But do we do enough for ourselves?

Let's take a break for ourselves.

How do you take care of yourself, The Band? How do you manage to do the little things when life feels overwhelming?

It’s never quiet. Not for me, anyway. Whether it’s a bustling mall at Christmas, my seemingly quiet office, family meals, or my own mind.

I’m never in pure silence, especially when hit with overwhelming stress and anxiety.

Noise surrounds and engulfs me. The hum of the A/C. The whirring of the computer fan. The squeak of my desk. The voices of coworkers. Buzzing phones. Sniffling. Slamming doors. Coffee cups clinking. The faint sound of music. Cats meowing. Keyboards clacking.

The sounds move through the air and hit me like a wave crashing against the rocks. I try to stand firm, but it takes me out. Always bearing down. Never ceasing.

I always seem to forget what meditation can do for me. When I remember to take a few minutes, I close my eyes and my vision goes dark. But there are flashes of green, red, pink, and copper. The long, deep, steady breathing is calming. Moving into the darkness, the silence overtakes me, shooting through me like an electric current. It’s warm and soothing, not cold and frightening.

Here, I float in glorious silence.

We all do so much for other people. But do we do enough for ourselves?

Let's take a break for ourselves.

How do you take care of yourself, The Band? How do you manage to do the little things when life feels overwhelming?

I am Buddhist.

People like to ask me, "Since when have you been Buddhist?" as if I just made the decision yesterday. I chose Buddhism when I was in college because I was frustrated with religion and no longer believed what my Catholic professors were telling me.

Like people say, Buddhism isn't a religion, it's a philosophy.

It's been an interesting road, to say the least. I had no idea there were so many sects! After reading up on every kind of Buddhism I could find, I knew I'd made the right choice.

We practice mindfulness and living in the now, not looking behind us at the past or getting too worked up about the future. I'm not gonna lie, it's hard. But it gives me the opportunity to practice self-care because I know that the only thing I can truly control is myself, and that if I'm going to be successful I need to be calm, rational and compassionate.

Meditation is one way I use Buddhism to take time for myself. By simply slowing down, sitting in the quiet with some rain sounds or in the shower with the water running, I'm able to clear my mind of everything that stresses me out and simply be for a little while. And when I'm done, the path I need to take is a little clearer.

Buddha once said, "No matter how hard the past, one can always begin again." To do that takes a tremendous amount of self-love and courage, but it is possible and the best way to start is with doing little things to strengthen our relationship with ourselves.

Take a walk. Read a book. Meditate. No matter what, remember that we all have the potential for enlightenment inside us and that is all the more reason to love ourselves.

Namaste!

A typical day in the life of an elementary school teacher...

7:30 am: Arrive at school. Grade papers, change bulletin boards and write lesson plans.

8:15 am: Crazy, drunk parent who is not allowed to go to my classroom shows up in there anyway. Fortunately I am in the office and my principal coerces him into the cafeteria, which is where he is supposed to go anyway, to watch his violent child.

8:20 am: Crazy, drunk parent returns to my room, leaving child to hit people in cafeteria while I am at my desk. I manage to slip past him and go into the cafeteria to find my principal. The parent always seems friendly but he has left messages threatening me on the school voice mail system. 

8:25 am: Students enter classroom. Must explain to challenging child that she is going to have a change her routine today and she needs to stay in the classroom.

8:26 am: See 8:25 am.

8:28 am: See 8:25 am.

8:50 am: Finally receive bus list that must be filled out for the field trip that we are going on in 5 minutes.

9:00 am: Take class into freezing rain to get on the bus. Must stand outside in the rain (eight months pregnant) to break up fight before getting on the bus.

9:25 am: As we file into W. High School to watch the Junior League of Johnson County perform Pinocchio, the only parent attending tells me that I "look like shit."

10:00 am: The worst play I have ever seen, including elementary school performances, begins.

10:45 am: As I nod off, I am startled by the sounds of violent vomiting behind me. Student vomits all over his coat as well as the coat and shirt of student sitting next to him. Only one other (also eight months pregnant) teacher (even though there are five others there) offers to help me alert custodian, get student cleaned up and move the entire class as quickly and quietly as possible.

11:00 am: Ride bus back to school holding onto sick student. Fortunately he does not actually throw up on me.

11:10 am: Return to school to find out that they still haven't figured out a schedule for school picture day, even though it IS school picture day.

12:05 pm: Lunch is delayed, but do find out that we will be taking pictures at 12:45 pm. Also find out that there is an assembly at 1:30 pm that principal forgot to mention.

12:50 pm: Bring students to photographer, who is not ready for us. Play Simon Says to practice things like step vs. jump and up vs. down.

1:10 pm: Begin pictures.

1:30 pm: Assembly delayed, but fortunately students are in library skills and it is not my problem. Continue grading papers. 

2:10 pm: Called to bring students to assembly, but since I do not have my students, I cannot follow this direction. Go look for students in the gym. They are not there. 

2:20 pm: Find students. Bring them to assembly. Remind three of them that we do not hit people just because they are not walking fast enough.

2:50 pm: Must go get students now. Am frightened. Assembly still not over.

3:20 pm: Assembly still going strong, even though the buses will leave in five minutes and no students are packed up to go.

3:23 pm: Send all my bus riders out of the assembly to get their homework, backpacks and coats on their own. 

3:26 pm: Jog back to classroom with the rest of the students. Make sure all have homework, coats and bookbags. 

3:31 pm: Drunk parent from this morning now looks very tired and smells bad. I wave cheerfully to campus police officer to make him go away.

3:37 pm: Where is T's grandfather? 

3:40 pm: Go inside to call T's grandfather. 

3:48 pm: All of my students have now been picked up. I am leaving.

3:51 pm: See four students who have not been picked up. No one is waiting with them. Feel responsible because some of them are my former students. Decide to wait with them. 

4:10 pm: All students are picked up. Leave.

Traumatic injuries can cause mental stress that can make it hard to heal physically and emotionally.

This is her story.

I feel useless. Worthless.

On January 30th, I hydroplaned off a country road and into a tree at nearly 50mph. I'm a damn good driver, but when your brakes are so coated with water they refuse to work at all, there's just not much you can do but pray and say oh shit when you realize you won't miss that thing hurtling toward you at high speed.

I was very lucky.

I got out of it with only two broken bones and a crapton of bruises. Unfortunately, one of those broken bones was my tibia. I had my foot so hard on the brake when I hit that I managed to break the very bottom of my tibia vertically.

Imagine pulling apart string cheese but stopping just short of the middle, and that's basically my bone. Split right up the middle from where my ankle joint is almost halfway up. Originally, they thought I'd need surgery. I avoided that, thank god. Lucky again. So why do I feel so bad?

Because I've become a burden.

No, the accident wasn't my fault, no I didn't ask for it. But the results are the same. My poor girlfriend is left to care not only for me, but our three young girls, one dog, three cats, three bedroom home, and all the shit that comes along with all of those things. Sometimes literal shit.

I cannot walk.

I cannot put our children to bed.

I cannot do most of the daily/weekly household cleaning.

She is left with all of it.

I watch her struggle knowing I cannot help, and knowing that 95% of what she does cannot be put off or ignored entirely. It has to be done, so she has to do it. I've priced out hiring a maid service to help her while I'm down and out -- our budget just can't stretch that far.

Doing so much for such a prolonged time is killing her body. She goes to bed in more pain each night. I can't even hold her while she cries at being overwhelmed, because between my ribs being so severely bruised and aching and having a club of a cast attached to me, it's just plain impossible to find a position that won't hurt one of us. She goes to sleep at night and I cry. If I cry when she can see me I only add to her stress.

I feel useless.

I'm a burden.

And I can't fix it.