OK, truth be told, I'm not really writing this while naked. At least not in the physical sense. I'm writing this during a time in my life when I feel the most vulnerable--essentially naked emotionally. This entry started to take shape in my mind after reading two of Karen's blogs: A Mother's Pro-Choice Mantra and Loss and Recovery. So forgive me in advance for my exposure.
I know that people do what they can to prevent their nakedness from showing both physically and metaphorically (with possible exceptions to college revelry where that nakedness seems to be encouraged). As a psychologist, I see this all of the time and it is a complicated dance: my clients have a space where they are not judged and can really look at who they are, yet they do not get a chance to know me or who I am. They carry me with them (my words and help) but have little understanding as to what lies underneath the professional veneer. That being said, I feel like I am genuine with my clients, but in a different way than as to how my friends and family experience me.
Four and a half months ago, I was faced with the hardest decision that I have ever had to make. In fact, a series of decisions. I was 20 weeks pregnant with my second child and I expected to learn the gender of that child at our ultrasound. What my husband and I found out shook us to the core: our child was developing without a brain. We went for a second opinion that day, and four days later, a third opinion at Children's Hospital. The prognosis was definite, but extremely grim. Our best case scenario was that our son would attain a two-month old developmental quality of life.
Obviously, this news was devastating. My clients knew that I was pregnant (and I think were relieved to have an explanation around my intense fatigue). I had to deal with this trauma on two levels: personally as well as professionally. I was able to have someone else contact my clients as we waited for additional information to come in. Ultimately, my husband and I made the most gut-wrenching decision of our lives: we ended the pregnancy. What made this even more difficult was that I had miscarried 5 months prior.
So why do I write about this now? It is certainly on my mind as my due date is this week. My hope is that this blog is therapeutic for me and for you. In sharing this, I open myself up to criticism with my choices (this blog is not intended to start off a firestorm of debate around pro-choice vs pro-life). I open myself up to self-disclosure and the potential that current and future clients might read this. I also open myself up to continued healing.
Being emotionally naked has its drawbacks: we are well aware of them, which is why we cloak our feelings. However, it has its merits as well. It makes us closer to others. It allows us to be understood. It connects us and helps us from feeling isolated. An additional hope is that you are able to share some of your human vulnerability with someone else.
Julie, I didn't know your whole story, and you are very brave to tell it now. We also had to make a conscious decision - to allow our 5-day-old baby to remain on the machine that was keeping his lungs and heart working and allow him to live a terribly brain damaged, disabled life, if he lived at all, or to take him off the machine and let him go. When I spoke about this publicly in our synagogue later that year, my rabbi warned me that there may have been some who would have questioned our decision. But I have never let that stop me from telling my story - it is my story to tell, my story to survive, and my story from which to heal and from which to learn. And now I feel grateful that you have chosen to share your with us, in all its messiness, sadness, and vulnerability.
I hope that in blogging together on this site that we will have the chance to meet in person someday so that I can give you a hug.
Posted by: Karen Paul-Stern | Tuesday, April 06, 2010 at 01:52 PM
Julie, I'm with Karen. I hope I get to meet you soon to give you a big hug and to thank you for sharing this painful time in your life with us. Your image of writing about your experience in an emotionally "naked" way is very powerful and it allows me, a stranger, to sympathize with you on deep level. Thank you. I will be rooting for you (and your husband) as you go through the process of emotional, physical, and spiritual healing.
Stacy
Posted by: Stacy | Tuesday, April 06, 2010 at 11:45 PM
I have tears in my eyes as I write this, having just finished reading your eloquent post. What a powerful way to remember the baby - babies - that you lost. I can't imagine the heartbreak of that decision.
So many therapists go into the field to put that professional distance between themselves and other people. It speaks so well of you that you're able to be so vulnerable and human with us - and the judgmental world. Your patients are lucky indeed. I feel fortunate just to know you through the pixels on my computer screen, and second the comments above.
Sending you a virtual hug.
Posted by: Katherine | Wednesday, April 07, 2010 at 11:52 PM