Throughout this time my little Grace was a great little sleeper and didn’t give us much trouble at all. During the day she was happy much of the time for me just to hold her, and that was certainly a comfort to me.
I was released from the hospital on Sunday. There was nothing more they could do for me. I was supposed to rest as stress is very often a factor in preeclampsia, and I had a slew of prescriptions I was supposed to be taking. While I was in the hospital, Jason and my dad held down the fort. A family member who was in the middle of a divorce came to town, and my dad spent much of the time listening to him and counseling. The family member had a friend that lived nearby with whom he was staying, and this person also spent time at the house while I was hospitalized. What I didn’t expect , however, was that they invited him to church and gave him a ride. So when they picked me up from the hospital on the way home from church, they introduced me to him. Suffice it to say, I was not thrilled to be meeting someone at that particular moment in my life.
My parents stayed longer than they had originally intended since I had to be readmitted to the hospital. They remained a few days after I got home to help me and to make sure I was going to be ok.
Jason kind of ignored what was happening to me. I don’t know, maybe that was his way of coping or dealing with the situation, but if I didn’t feel his love before I had the baby I was feeling it less after. My parents tried to over compensate for his lack of concern, and he thought they were over reacting so things were a bit tense.
On a funny note, one night my dad was so tired he was was getting kind of goofy. Out of the blue, he pointed at me with his whole arm and said, “I see two faces, one happy, one sad.” I couldn’t help but laugh. My mom quickly whisked him off to bed. He didn’t even remember the incident in the morning!
Truly, I grieved over the paralysis of my face. I would consciously and verbally name my blessings, but I would burst out in tears at the thought of never being able to smile at my children. What I found so sad was that as long as I was serious I looked normal, but it was when I tried to smile or laugh that my face would contort in a way that didn’t look happy at all but rather grotesque. I wondered if my husband would be able to love me if I was to look like a freak for the rest of my life.
My parents went home and several different family members came and helped me for days at a time. It was during this time that I heard someone ask about my husband’s treatment of me, “Does he even love her?” That’s when I knew that it wasn’t all in my head. I wasn’t the only one noticing my husband’s seeming lack of interest and care. It was hard to hear, but comforting at the same time.