Today is M's official due date. Of course, just 2 or so weeks before his death we found out he was a dwarf, so he was to be a schedule c-section about a week before. After his death, I really didn't place a lot of importance on today, although of course, I would have a passing thought of him and his pregnancy. Today doesn't make me sad, but perhaps wistful, a reminder of a regular life, a regular time, when I still felt whole and normal, and pregnancy wasn't scary. Believe it or not, I actually thought I would have him later, as I come from a long line of woman who have overdue babies.
IZ was to be due on February 15th, 2010. That, of course is the 40 week mark. The 40 week date is for other woman, who don't have anxiety attacks at the very thought of leaving a baby in there that long. So while I was pregnant, I thought he would actually come sometime this week. If things were different, I would be 37 weeks and 2 days today. I think a part of me hoped he could be born this day, and that would be his connection to M. Their connection ended up being death. This might have been too early for the likes of my doctor, as she reluctantly gave me the choice of 37 weeks and 5 days as my earliest choice for A's birth. And, as we all know, I took it. So IZ most likely would not have been born today, but I know most likely this week.
Yes, it has been a very, very tough week.
I didn't know I had this much grief in me. You would think I would be a seasoned pro at this dead baby stuff. Not so much. I want to rush past this, "I should be....." time.
To add to my sorrows, A has had a very tough time sleeping lately. Which means I have had a tough time sleeping. I spent this last week more exhausted than I think I ever was her first weeks. I haven't been the best mother these last few days. Sleeplessness, grief, stress, two year old normal behavior, take your pick, I could blame any one of these. I could write a whole post, maybe a book on the complicated feelings of not being your best with your living child and how that inevitably leads you down a path of darkness where you think perhaps you don't deserve her, and maybe you deserve not to have the children you don't.
But last night was better, both sleep wise and in my determination to reach a zen calm of motherhood. Both A and I woke more rested (though, not perfectly), but more importantly, with joy in hearts for calm evening we had.
I miss them. I miss me. I have picked up the phone to call a therapist a hundred times and never touched a button. I know I need something, but it doesn't seem like anyone can actually provide it.
Maybe I will call. Soon. In the meantime, I have been dabbling in practiced calmness. I have been trying a little meditation. (though I am more than novice) And I have been thinking of trying some alternative healing besides talk therapy. Any suggestions welcome.
My good night with A healed me for now. Neither M nor IZ is here, and one day I will feel more at peace with that than I do on this due date.
My prayer for now-
Help me get through these weeks with as much calm as I can muster
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Like Today
I wish I could describe what my life is like. Except, I can't. It is so filled with swinging emotions from minute to minute, day to day. I can go from laughing and enjoying A, sad and heavy, grumpy and frustrated, peaceful, and on and on all in a matter of 24 hours.
Like today. I was looking forward to today, because I have been working every Friday, (instead of my usual every other Friday) and I was looking forward to more time with A this week. But when I woke, I felt sad and weighted down by the circumstances of my life. I had been dreaming, another "regular life" dream where in the dream I felt normal again.
What can really complicate it is the incredible amount of guilt I feel about feeling sad and less than happy. I look at A and think, "how could I not feel happy?" or least happy 90% of the time? Also, I think about terrible tragedies like what is happening in Haiti, and I feel guilt that I could ever sit and not be able to count my blessings.
Many days, those things do work. I find taking care of A to be an almost soothing ritual that calms me frequently, and, I am often able to think of people who have had horrible tragedies and remember to feel lucky for what I have. Some days, it doesn't work. Like today.
Like today. I was looking forward to today, because I have been working every Friday, (instead of my usual every other Friday) and I was looking forward to more time with A this week. But when I woke, I felt sad and weighted down by the circumstances of my life. I had been dreaming, another "regular life" dream where in the dream I felt normal again.
What can really complicate it is the incredible amount of guilt I feel about feeling sad and less than happy. I look at A and think, "how could I not feel happy?" or least happy 90% of the time? Also, I think about terrible tragedies like what is happening in Haiti, and I feel guilt that I could ever sit and not be able to count my blessings.
Many days, those things do work. I find taking care of A to be an almost soothing ritual that calms me frequently, and, I am often able to think of people who have had horrible tragedies and remember to feel lucky for what I have. Some days, it doesn't work. Like today.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Making Friends
"Don't you also have a son?"
A falter, a misstep, a hesitation of some sort must cross my face, because before I can answer, I see her retreat, confusion crossing her face.
"No, just my daughter", but it is too late, the innocent conversation has become awkward for a beat, I feel something like embarrassment coming from her. She doesn't know what she did, just that she did something.
Thankfully, we move on in mere seconds, though it feels longer. We continue to talk about reading to our daughters, hers just a few months behind A. That, and the fact that I like her, has made me try to reach out more to her when I see her. Maybe we can be friends, I think. God knows I need those.
Maybe not. The short hiccup in our conversation leaves me feeling exhausted, reminded of how strange and different I am. I don't even know how to answer simple questions anymore.
I watch her walk away a few minutes later. Feeling sad, I try to remind myself, one day, this will feel easier than it does today. At least, I hope so.
A falter, a misstep, a hesitation of some sort must cross my face, because before I can answer, I see her retreat, confusion crossing her face.
"No, just my daughter", but it is too late, the innocent conversation has become awkward for a beat, I feel something like embarrassment coming from her. She doesn't know what she did, just that she did something.
Thankfully, we move on in mere seconds, though it feels longer. We continue to talk about reading to our daughters, hers just a few months behind A. That, and the fact that I like her, has made me try to reach out more to her when I see her. Maybe we can be friends, I think. God knows I need those.
Maybe not. The short hiccup in our conversation leaves me feeling exhausted, reminded of how strange and different I am. I don't even know how to answer simple questions anymore.
I watch her walk away a few minutes later. Feeling sad, I try to remind myself, one day, this will feel easier than it does today. At least, I hope so.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Four
I feel strangely silent this year. Nothing I say says as much as this - I wish he was here.
Happy Birthday, M.
Happy Birthday, M.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Channeling Jackie
I was struggling at work the other day, and I started to think about Jackie Kennedy and her losses. I knew her last loss was a premature baby, and I started wondering how premature he was. I googled, and came up with this interesting piece. (I'm also wondering how far along she was with her stillborn daughter if anyone knows) It might sound strange, but often when I am having a hard time, I think of other people, who have hurt like this, and go on thriving, not just surviving. Of course, who really knows what private demons Jackie faced, but it helps me to reminded that you can go on, and maybe not be so bitter that it oozes out of you, repelling everyone you know.
The article says her baby Patrick was 5 weeks early. In this day and age, it doesn't seem like much does it? He was 4 lbs. 10 oz. when he was born, just about a pound or so more than M weighed. What was Jackie thinking when she realized she was going into labor? Did she have some small sliver of hope or did she already feel resigned to the possibility of tragedy given her other losses? I have to admit, I felt resigned to it, when I started to strongly suspect that this baby wasn't well. Of course, somewhere in the far, far back of my heart, I wanted to be wrong and have hope, but.....I already knew the truth. Babies do die, that fact doesn't shock me the way it did with M.
Did I ever tell the details of finding out with this last baby? I was scheduled for a special ultrasound. I just could not shake the feeling of dread a few days before my appointment. As soon as we got into the room, I mentioned my feeling. The u/s tech didn't exactly pooh-pooh me, but she said it was normal, given my experience. She turned on the machine and started to measure his head. I said, Can we please just check his heart? But I'm not sure why I asked, he already seemed to be too quiet. I KNEW. I knew before the u/s tech did, because I KNOW these things happen, and that a mother's dreadful feelings are not always just a product of fear, but a product of knowledge that can't be taught, but only learned through broken hearts and tears. So she moved the wand a bit, and I honestly think she thought she was going to be able to laugh teasingly at my feelings and reassure me. But the picture on the screen quickly shoved that giggle back down her throat. I KNEW. I didn't really need her to show me, except to verify what I felt so strongly.
Is that what happened to Jackie? When she felt those first stirrings of labor did she panic, or just prepare herself for more heartbreak? When her baby was born alive, was hope born again for Jackie as well? Did she start to think maybe there was a chance this baby was coming home?
And later, how did Jackie cope with all those other Kennedy babies? Not to mention whomever else she was around that was still having babies. We have friends who are planning to start trying next year. I have no idea how I will get through that. About 9 or 10 years ago, I had 2 friends who were die hard childless by choice women. What I wouldn't give for some friends like that now. Did Jackie ever wonder about the family she should have had? Did she ever feel bitter about the toll physically of multiple pregnancies but not as many children to show for them? My body certainly looks like I should have more children in my home. And it isn't just weight gain, its something else altogether. My hair isn't as shiny, my teeth not as white, I look tired enough for 4 pregnancies and 3 children in 4 years, but when you step into my home, only A's presence greets you. Though I am sure no one ever thinks this much about me, sometimes I wonder if people don't get my rundown looks, my tiredness, you know, considering I only have one child.
It might sound silly to some, but thinking of her, I did get through my work day okay, and I went home with positive thoughts of my future with only A, and the pure enjoyment I get when I am with her. I am a roller coaster ride of varying emotions, but I am working very hard at making a happy life with what I have got.
The article says her baby Patrick was 5 weeks early. In this day and age, it doesn't seem like much does it? He was 4 lbs. 10 oz. when he was born, just about a pound or so more than M weighed. What was Jackie thinking when she realized she was going into labor? Did she have some small sliver of hope or did she already feel resigned to the possibility of tragedy given her other losses? I have to admit, I felt resigned to it, when I started to strongly suspect that this baby wasn't well. Of course, somewhere in the far, far back of my heart, I wanted to be wrong and have hope, but.....I already knew the truth. Babies do die, that fact doesn't shock me the way it did with M.
Did I ever tell the details of finding out with this last baby? I was scheduled for a special ultrasound. I just could not shake the feeling of dread a few days before my appointment. As soon as we got into the room, I mentioned my feeling. The u/s tech didn't exactly pooh-pooh me, but she said it was normal, given my experience. She turned on the machine and started to measure his head. I said, Can we please just check his heart? But I'm not sure why I asked, he already seemed to be too quiet. I KNEW. I knew before the u/s tech did, because I KNOW these things happen, and that a mother's dreadful feelings are not always just a product of fear, but a product of knowledge that can't be taught, but only learned through broken hearts and tears. So she moved the wand a bit, and I honestly think she thought she was going to be able to laugh teasingly at my feelings and reassure me. But the picture on the screen quickly shoved that giggle back down her throat. I KNEW. I didn't really need her to show me, except to verify what I felt so strongly.
Is that what happened to Jackie? When she felt those first stirrings of labor did she panic, or just prepare herself for more heartbreak? When her baby was born alive, was hope born again for Jackie as well? Did she start to think maybe there was a chance this baby was coming home?
And later, how did Jackie cope with all those other Kennedy babies? Not to mention whomever else she was around that was still having babies. We have friends who are planning to start trying next year. I have no idea how I will get through that. About 9 or 10 years ago, I had 2 friends who were die hard childless by choice women. What I wouldn't give for some friends like that now. Did Jackie ever wonder about the family she should have had? Did she ever feel bitter about the toll physically of multiple pregnancies but not as many children to show for them? My body certainly looks like I should have more children in my home. And it isn't just weight gain, its something else altogether. My hair isn't as shiny, my teeth not as white, I look tired enough for 4 pregnancies and 3 children in 4 years, but when you step into my home, only A's presence greets you. Though I am sure no one ever thinks this much about me, sometimes I wonder if people don't get my rundown looks, my tiredness, you know, considering I only have one child.
It might sound silly to some, but thinking of her, I did get through my work day okay, and I went home with positive thoughts of my future with only A, and the pure enjoyment I get when I am with her. I am a roller coaster ride of varying emotions, but I am working very hard at making a happy life with what I have got.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Don't you sometimes just want to say the crazy thing?
I took A to the bay today for a little walk, and some playtime on the playground area. We were having a great time, partially because we had the whole area to ourselves for the most part. As a side note to this post, I have to say, one of the hardest things about mothering for me, is other peoples children. I never know how much attention they should be paid when they start trying to hang out with your kid on the playground. Not to sound unfriendly, (but lets face it, I am) when I go somewhere like that with A, I just want to enjoy hanging with her and playing with her, I don't want to worry about somebody else's kid.
For a short while, there was a little girl and her younger brother there. I would say the girl was about 5, maybe 6, and the boy just a year or two younger. (I swear, the close in age siblings are everywhere) I was honestly paying them no mind, when the little girl decided she wanted to play with A. She starts doing the hanging around too close to you thing. I didn't really respond unless she really pinned me down, forcing me to say something to her. As A is so much younger than her, she really wasn't too interested, but more interested in continuing her quest to climb things that make her mom hyperventilate. The little girls mom started calling her, telling her it was time to leave. The little girl was talking up a storm, about some imaginery story/world she made up. The mom smiles at me and says, "She has an vivid imagination" I smile and give one of those Ha Ha's and continue paying attention to my child. Then the mom says, "thats why I have 2, so they can play together" I give the same response as before. I decided it might be just a tad weird to say, "well, I don't have 2 (or 3) because my babies just keep dying on me!! Have a nice day!"
Well, at least I make myself chuckle in my own head.
For a short while, there was a little girl and her younger brother there. I would say the girl was about 5, maybe 6, and the boy just a year or two younger. (I swear, the close in age siblings are everywhere) I was honestly paying them no mind, when the little girl decided she wanted to play with A. She starts doing the hanging around too close to you thing. I didn't really respond unless she really pinned me down, forcing me to say something to her. As A is so much younger than her, she really wasn't too interested, but more interested in continuing her quest to climb things that make her mom hyperventilate. The little girls mom started calling her, telling her it was time to leave. The little girl was talking up a storm, about some imaginery story/world she made up. The mom smiles at me and says, "She has an vivid imagination" I smile and give one of those Ha Ha's and continue paying attention to my child. Then the mom says, "thats why I have 2, so they can play together" I give the same response as before. I decided it might be just a tad weird to say, "well, I don't have 2 (or 3) because my babies just keep dying on me!! Have a nice day!"
Well, at least I make myself chuckle in my own head.
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