My Eyes

The other day a family friend of mine commented on a recent picture I had taken of my self following a haircut - my first real outing by myself and for myself since the events of February 1st.  She commented that I looked so sad.  And I started thinking about that.  I know I feel sad, but can others tell how sad I really am?  So I stood in front of the mirror and looked into my eyes.  And it hit me - your eyes really are the windows to your soul (or however that proverb goes).  People can see the sadness through my eyes.

About two years ago I actually went to an eye doctor to get an old eye injury checked out.  Here's the back story.  Somehow back on my 17th birthday when I was participating in a fundraiser car wash a piece of steel wool got stuck into my eye.  The eye is supposed to heal really fast I was told, so I figured it was healed after several days of wearing an awesome eye patch during high school - another way to raise your social stock, right?  Ha.  But of course, with my track record, the cornea healed but formed a raised scar that evey now and then, when it gets too dry, forms an extra layer of cells over the scar.  These cells feel like pieces of gravel in my eye and are very uncomfortable.  They don't effect my vision so the past doctors never seemed that worried about it and I eventually got tired of going to the eye doctor every time they formed so I started plucking them out myself with a q-tip.  Disclaimer - never do this yourself - apparently it's a pretty bad habit to get yourself into.  Then again, I'm stubborn and rarely actually listen.  Well, finally after dealing with it for over 10 years, I decided to try going back to the doctor to see if they could actually fix the root issue - I figured medicine must have advanced by now.  Again I was wrong.  But this appointment did provide me with some unforgettable images.

For the first time ever when going to an eye doctor, they showed me these amazing up close images of my iris as they took pictures of everything for the doctor to examine.  Before I had always been jealous of those people who had these gorgeous blue or green eyes because I always thought they were more beautiful than my boring brown eyes.  Everybody has brown eyes - they aren't unique I thought.  But as I stared at up the up close pictures of my iris, my opinion changed.  I was told that each pattern is different and brown eyes actually have more variations than the lighter color eyes.  The up close images sort of reminded me of tiger eyes.  There were little firebursts hidden amongst the dark areas in these random formations.  It was awe-inspiring to see something like that up close - the human body really is the most amazing thing in the universe.  That moment made me realize that my eyes may not look as beautiful as others on the outside, but they were beautiful on the inside. 

The more that I lay around and think about these things, the more I come to the conclusion that those brown eyes with all of their inward beauty really do reflect my soul.  My soul is sad because a major piece of it is now missing and thus, my eyes are sad.  I know others see it.  I see it.  They aren't bright like they were before - they've been dulled by the sadness.  Now I know that when I've "people watched" in the past whether it be through my job or through my travels or visits to crowded places, and I've commented to myself that some of those people have "sad eyes," I'm now one of those people. 

Well, yesterday, my eyes were angry.  Maybe some flash returned to them as I became angry multiple times over the course of the evening before and most of the day yesterday.  I snapped at some guy who called our house phone looking for someone who obviously had our number before.  I got so angry because we had just changed phone numbers to avoid the calls we had been getting for others, and it was supposed to be changed to an unlisted number, and here we were getting new calls for others.  The anger just flowed.   And I felt a little bit guilty about it later because that guy, no matter how annoying the company he works for is, did not deserve my anger.  

To be honest, my anger actually started welling up on Wednesday after I set up my March of Dimes page - In Memory of Ellison, and then just spilled over into yesterday.  When I had to write my little message to others about my story, my anger, which had been pushed out a while ago and replaced by sadness, came back to the forefront.  I became angry about my pregnancy condition - vasa previa.  I became angry thinking about the doctors telling me it was so "rare" that they "needed to consult the literature" of the past on it to properly manage it.  I remember thinking "why is there so little research?"  There are plenty of rare conditions that are talked about all the time, why isn't vasa previa one of them - does no one care enough about it to want to do something for those that have it?  There has to be some test that can show where the exposed membranes of the cord are so that doctors can see if the baby's in danger of compressing it whether it be by growth or their position.  I then got angry wondering if my own doctors were submitting information on my case to whatever medical society needed to know.  They just needed to know that I had vasa previa, and it was diagnosed and supposedly properly managed according to the literature, and yet, my Ellison still died.  Someone else who gets diagnosed with this needs to know all of the possible outcomes with the risks and exposed membranes, etc. and modern medicine needs to know more and do more to prevent these risks.  Medicine needs to be able to prevent future tragedies.

I even got a little angry with the March of Dimes itself some because it seemed like most everything on their page was geared towards to infants with disabilities or premature births and the complications they bring.  There wasn't anything in their generic team message that mentioned those experiencing the loss of their child and working towards preventing that.  Now, don't misunderstand me, I am glad for all that the March of Dimes organization does, and I know others are facing different difficulties with their children and it's no less sad or difficult, etc.  I just want to help out their efforts - all of their efforts.  But I specifically wrote in my story that I wanted to raise money so that perhaps someone would research vasa previa more and talk more about it and raise awareness for it.  With the infant mortality rate being so high because of the condition, especially if untreated, more should be done so that no one has to go through what we have had to.  No one else should have to lose their baby.  Even if treated, accidents still happen and lives are lost - our Ellison lost her life.  And if nothing else, I can't bring Ellie back, but maybe I can help save someone else's child's life.  I was just so angry - angry that we lost Ellie, angry that the medical field wasn't doing enough, angry thinking that someone else may experience this tragedy...unbelievable waves of anger. 

My husband and I were at Panera eating dinner when all of these waves of anger came over me as I was talking to him about having signed up for the March of Dimes walk.  And I raised my voice at him, and snapped at him, when he tried telling me that our condition was just so rare and tragic that there just isn't enough cases on it yet for medicine to work on.  I kept going on and on, not accepting his words, and finally I told him we just had to stop talking about it all because I was just too angry.  I'm sure he could tell it in my eyes...Someone who cannot see probably could have felt it coming from my eyes - my soul.  I realize I'm still going to have flashes of anger over different things, and then the anger will turn to sadness, etc., and the cycle will continue for a long time.  But I do know that I need to control my anger better.  While my eyes may not be able to hide my anger or my sadness, my words and actions can. 

I should not have snapped at my husband or the telemarketer guy who called my house.  It's not their fault that this all has happened - it's no one's fault.  My anger isn't direceted towards any one person or entity, it's just an overall anger at the situation for my loss.  So I suppose it's OK that my eyes show my anger, or my sadness - it's a window into my soul and how it's feeling.  And it's OK for others to see that in my eyes - I want them to know how much I feel for Ellison and everything else.  Maybe one day people will be able to see some brightness or specks of happiness return to my dull brown eyes, perhaps after I find the bluebird I'm longing for.  In the meantime though, I'll be sure to look others' in the eye and search through them to their souls and try to understand what they're going through, because I really believe that the eyes can be the window to one's soul.  Knowing this is half of the battle.  The other half is the battle they are fighting within themselves.