We are in Florida. I started this blog while here in February 2007. At that point we were new to our grief, not pregnant, and it was rather warm here in comparison to home. It’s nice to be here again, at my mil’s condo, although it’s rather hot and I am not drinking nearly enough to puke up black beans in the bath tub again.
A piece of Baby Man’s poop did roll out of his diaper (as we were changing him, not just randomly) and onto the carpet though. So we are doing our part to lessen the luxury around here once again.
Lately I’ve been feeling like my anxieties about Baby Man’s safety are a bit more than necessary. Not saying I don’t enjoy him thoroughly, or that I’m unhappy. It’s just that I ought not to think that he’s dead for sure if he and Josh arrive a bit late picking me up from somewhere. Really there are many more likely possibilities, but the bad thoughts are deafening.
With that in mind, I decided to try and see if a therapist could help. I went to this fancy therapy center connected with the U – can’t go to the free student clinic in the summer because I’m not enrolled. I met with a psychiatrist who was supposed to help make a plan for therapy. I didn’t like the place at all the moment i arrived, because I was told to wait “in the first waiting area” and found the waiting area is a cavernous lobby with 6 or 7 sections of couches and chairs. No walls. No numbers. No way for me to know, really, which one was the first. Not a great scene for someone suffering from anxiety, let me tell you. I was nervous enough already since I’m no great fan of therapy, was running late, and had no idea for what I was in store.
On the phone, I had been clear that I needed someone familiar with loss. I was told that I was assigned to the “perinatal” team. I ended up with a psychiatrist who told me immediately that it was his last day, so I wouldn’t be seeing him again. Right off the bat, I didn’t like him because he kept referring to Natan’s birth and death as a “miscarriage.” After 45 minutes or so, he called in the director, because that’s procedure, to discuss my case. Once she arrived and he started talking, I had to interrupt him because he had been talking five minutes and saying nothing about Natan. “Um, shouldn’t you mention my first son?” He was describing me as just a new mom with anxieties.
I was really displeased at the end of it, but not comfortable enough in the moment to say anything. Now I’m even more pissed because I got a call back later that they’re recommending I go to group therapy for “anxiety – NOS (not otherwise specified).”
I am anxious. And I am sure that everyone else in the group has reasons for being anxious, too. But I don’t want to sit in with a group, and discuss Natan’s death, and my fears for Baby Man, with people who know nothing about losing a baby, nothing about a subsequent pregnancy, and nothing about parenting after loss.
I’ve never had much faith in the worlds of psychiatry and psychology to help me with my pain since Natan died. But really, I never expected it would be so bad.
We got recommendations for grief counselors way back in the weeks after he died. But not everyone takes our insurance, and it became an annoying search. This way, going to this big center was supposed to be the easiest. But I suppose I will have to wait until the fall when I can go to the student center, or just start picking up the phone and cold calling again.