I only recently found this site. I was looking online for solace, an outlet, anything. Eventually I stumbled here. I hope that this helps me, because God I need help.
I was 24 with an 11 month old daughter and another baby due four months later when the knock came. My husband had died in Kuwait only hours after his boots hit the ground and only an hour after he called me. A heart attack related to medical malpractice and a blood clot from the plane ride in claimed my husband. He was on an ER table nearly instantly, but nothing could be done. He was gone immediately and our lives changed irrevocably. Unbeknownst to me. I was busy sending photos of our daughter learning to walk at his mother’s house.
As I’m sure you all know, the next days and weeks were a blur that you only remember pieces of, and those all too clearly. You say things you don’t mean and arrange for things that seem bizarre later. The world somehow has the audacity to continue turning.
In all this time, I cried only once.
Fast forward to now. My daughters are 17 months, and nine weeks respectively. I have a new apartment, a new family dynamic and a new title. my friends are scattered across the world and at a loss about how to help anyway. My contact with the Gold Star world consists of just my doula who lost a step daughter in 2005. She has been a lot of help, but even she is starting to be freaked out.
You see, until now I haven’t had a chance to break down. I had too much vital stuff to do. A toddler, an infant, a household… the list goes on. But I was out of town this week, and I left my older daughter home. I brought someone with me to help with the baby. Suddenly, I had time.
It was awful. The spout opened and I think it may never shut off. I feel crushed under the weight of this. I’m on zoloft and ambien, being seen by a psychologist and psychiatrist (I’ve done all of this since the beginning). Now I’m having panic attacks. I’m overwhelmed. I constantly have that feeling you get when you drink an energy drink and crash. I can’t find my keys. I lost two baby blankets and a bib. I want to throw up all the time, and in the midst of an attack I’m afraid to get help because I irrationally think (only in the moment) that someone will take my girls away if I do.
Someone help me. For the love of God, something has got to give.