Massage Envy?

I <3 Massages.

I don't get expensive haircuts. My hair is au naturale (though it wasn't always that way. Helllllo college). I've had 2 pedicures in my life; once before prom and once before my wedding. I can count on one hand how many manicures I've had. Not that any of these things are too indulgent, but because they just aren't something I get too excited about. But massages, my vice.

I've had quite a few in my life. I'd say about 10 professional massages/wraps in fancy places. One Christmas my MIL and SIL treated me to a chocolate massage and wrap at the Hershey, Pennsylvania hotel! We also had our feet eaten alive by fish at the original salon famous for the pedicure and we all admit that it was royally disgusting, but lots of fun.

On the day of my engagement, my wonderful husband (to be) scheduled me a hot stone therapy massage at my favorite spa in Manhattan Beach, Cali, Trilogy. Of course I was a nervous and thoroughly excited wreck because it was scheduled just before I would be getting engaged-- the hour before!

My engagement story is nothing short of incredible. I arrived at my car that Friday morning (running late) and saw my favorite flower, orchid, and a puzzle box (link to exact box) on the driver's seat of my Honda Civic. The box included instructions about what to do later that day. After teaching all day (and still unsure), I followed the instructions in the box to drive to his apartment in Manhattan Beach for my next clue. Once there, I walked in to see tons of my favorite things: favorite bottled water, snacks, sweets, pictures of us and our adventures together, etc. There was a second box. In that puzzle box, I was instructed to drive a couple miles to my favorite spa for that stone massage. At this point, I had a pretty big hunch the engagement was coming. He even provided me with quarters for the parking meter at the spa! During my incredibly nerve-wracking massage, I was thinking about the possibilities. I wasn't the least bit calm, cool, or relaxed as I usually am when it comes to all things massage. Once done, the masseuse gave me my third puzzle box which instructed me to meet my (very soon to be fiance) at the 26th street lifeguard tower in Manhattan Beach. There he was, standing there as our two kites were flying in the wind, waiting for me. I arrived and received my fourth puzzle box (no ring inside: he was worried I'd be too excited/nervous and lose it in the sand!) and the most wonderful question anyone has ever asked me came next. Then, the ring.

All that to really drive home how much I love massages. Well, here's where I get all sad on you.

In the hospital on December 6, the day after delivering and saying goodbye to my son, a masseuse walked into the delivery room (I did not change rooms as they felt I deserved the space, all things considered). I was a little startled by the masseuse's arrival because 1. I forgot all about their free massage service after delivery (who would've thought my mind would've been so screwed with at this point) and 2. I didn't understand why a masseuse would even want to walk into a room where she would meet a bereaved couple. I had a falling leaf and poem on my door obviously indicating we were mourning and not celebrating. {Just the thought of someone walking over to our door and placing that poem and symbol there makes me feel utterly shattered.}

When she arrived, we created smalltalk as I was sobbing. She apologized and then shared the story of her own loss-- a son 20 years ago and no answers to why he was born still either. She asked if I wanted a massage.

I told her I did not want one. This is completely out of character for me. I just couldn't joyfully receive a gift that I usually love so much in the midst of such sadness and anger. I almost felt like I didn't deserve the treatment. After all, my son died and I did not have the instinct to know that he died inside of my body. I was feeling shame, guilt, sadness, anger... all negative. I felt that receiving a massage would feel like a big slap in the face. My son died. I don't deserve this luxury! I saw the massage gift being a reward for the hard work of labor. But I labored for 12 hours (yep, that's it) and yielded a dead baby. I was unproductive. I ruined everything.

I know that what happened is not my fault, but like I've said before, try telling a bereaved mother that as she questions everything in her being.

Nearly four months later, I have yet to have a massage. I still feel undeserving. I feel like I should be sad and mourning, not enjoying incredible, highly indulgent massages. My husband has been asking me to make an appointment because he tells me that I deserve to be happy. I just don't know if I'm ready for that just yet. I believe in happiness, but the very thing that connects me to that day and my previous happiness is a massage. I know I can be happy and sad concurrently for different reasons, but I'm having a hard time justifying this type of happiness so close to the death of my son.

There's a massage place close to our house. It's one of those chain stores, Massage Envy. Anyone ever received a massage there? Perhaps when I am able to move forward and experience that type of luxury again, I'll consider giving that place a shot. Not yet, but I'm hoping I'll get there soon.