Makes me wonder

I was standing outside the mens bathroom. Mr. g and A were inside the bathroom. I stood next to the empty stroller. A woman walks by, laughs and says, "You lost your baby!!!" Ha, Ha she cackles as she walks away from me.

I startle a bit, and it takes me a moment to get it. I know she doesn't know she has done anything wrong, but suddenly, I want to run after her, grab her by the collar and shake her. I shake my head instead, confused about the behavior. I can't figure out why that is funny. She was probably in her forties, not some goofy teenage girl with friends.

Makes me wonder if I say things so lightly that shakes someone else to the core.

Silence and time

I didn't post on M's birthday. Or A's birthday either. At the time, I was actually thinking of ending the blog. I guess I have decided not to do that. Yet.

Five. He should be five. Can it really be that long? How can it feel so long ago and yet, so close in time?

And three. Good lord, she is three! That just seems so fast to me.

Maybe that's what it is. When you are watching someone grow up, it seems so quick, one minute they are a newborn, then baby, then toddler, then big girl! But at the same time, when you are hurting over not getting to watch someone grow up, time drags and you think there will never come a day when it doesn't hurt.

It doesn't hurt. Not the way it used to. But I can still be totally surprised and taken aback by it when something happens that causes it to catch me in its waves again. Sometimes its obvious, like when a man lets his two year old wander outside my work causing the police to show up, and you look at his children, (were there 6 or 7 of them?) and you want to yell at God, "REALLY GOD? REALLY! this man gets to keep having kids he can't/won't watch and you can't let me have my kids!!!" But other times, it is really unexpected like when you are wrapping presents for your 3 year old, and you are happy and excited for another Christmas with her, and then you look at your wrapping paper and realize some of it (in fact, almost all of it) is over 5 years old, because until she came, you stopped wrapping very many presents. And in fact, barely even took out your Christmas stuff at all. You would just grab a cheap gift bag for the few presents you bought. Now, because your only child is maybe just a wee bit spoiled, you know you will go through the paper quickly. Suddenly, you are sad.

I'm not ending this blog yet. But I will have to mull over what I want to talk about. On one hand, I still have so much to say. On the other, I feel like everyone (even the internet) is tired of hearing about it, and thinks I should move on.

When it shouldn't matter, but somehow still does

Here is the story. Mr. g's older brother had a long term girlfriend. They had a baby girl together. Our niece is now 12. Girlfriend was never "mom" material. She was never abusive or outright neglectful, (that I know of) just not really into being a mom. One famous family story about her is the moment they brought niece to mom after mom had c-section. The nurse held baby out, and girlfriend turned her head away. The nurse had to convince her to hold baby. Yes, go ahead and blame the drugs, the hormones, the nervousness of being a first time mom, but this attitude basically continued. It is hard to sit here and type the words that would describe it. She was just never "into it" and it was always fairly obvious. What probably saved her for years was the fact that she worked, and worked a lot, and my brother in law who I think basically did a lot of the basic child care. When you would watch girlfriend and niece interact, unless you knew them, I don't think you would know they were mother and daughter.

One of my personal memories took place when niece was about 8. We had stopped by their house to pick something up, and girlfriend and niece had just arrived home from the bookstore together. Girlfriend needed to go to the grocery store. Niece said, "oh! Can I come with you?" with all the hopefulness and desire to spend more time with mom. Girlfriends response? "No! I already did something with you today!" It was this way between them all the time. Or at least, all the times I witnessed. The way girlfriend was was a known and talked about topic in the G family.

Around this same time, girlfriend and brother in law were in the process of splitting up. This took some time as they owned a house together, had niece, etc. In fact, when M died, I was surprised to see girlfriend at the hospital, I thought they had broken up enough for her to miss solemn family moments. (And quite frankly, she and I were never best friends anyway). Brother in law of course, took custody of niece. There is no way this woman could parent by herself 24/7. Brother in law had conversation with mr. g about how girlfriend just wasn't like them, she was raised differently, etc. (actually, I think her childhood was pretty screwed up) He had tried to help her improve with niece, but it just wasn't working. After the split was final, it seemed like girlfriend and niece's relationship improved. I thought the fact that they didn't live together was to credit for that. You can put up with anyone if it is only little bits at a time. Girlfriend found religion, married a church man.

Today was mr. g's birthday. This birthday started out so much better than last year, when pregnant with a dead IZ, waiting for my procedure to free him, we couldn't stomach a party and sat in a Denny's restaurant for breakfast with his family, the one thing we let them do for us. Today, we had the family over, we were outside. I was feeling some stress, but was dealing okay. I was several feet from the party, helping A fill up her water table. I overheard it.

Niece telling family her mom was pregnant.

Dramatic as it sounds I reacted the way some people do to news of a death. For a moment, the world froze, then moved again in tilt. A roar rushed my ears and I felt like I had dived deep into the ocean where all you hear is the sound of water moving. A broke it out of me, by asking a question, which she had to repeat before I shook it off and could answer. I composed myself, sat quietly with A for a few moments before finally rejoining the party to fix a plate of food.

I did okay. I really did. Not in my head, but on the outside.

Later, on a walk we took after the party, I brought it up with mr. g. A feat in itself because "Other Peoples Pregnancies" is sometimes on our list of Things We Don't Talk About. But we did, and I found myself sniveling down the street.

The thing is, WHY does this bother me so much?* I told mr. g, it is like caring when your ex-boyfriend starts dating someone else. IT isn't about you. It is his life. Quit letting other peoples lives bother you. But it brought me back, back to the place. Life isn't fair. Boo Hoo. Didn't I already know this? Haven't I spent five, FIVE years trying to make peace with that fact? And this one piece of news sends me down there like a junkie finding out there is free smack at the grocery store.

And, I go back to these feelings. Why me? I start to think I MUST have done something to deserve what happened.** Even though, in logical moments I say I don't believe that.

I always feel like such a child. Why don't I just stomp into a church and kick my feet and demand that God give me an answer? It would serve just as much purpose.

At one point in the conversation, I told mr. g, I feel like I should talk about it when I feel this way, because clearly this is where my mind is, but what is the point? Besides, what would I say? Just repeat "life isn't fair" over and over until I was hoarse? He mentioned that he feels these feelings too, but then just tries to think of A, and feel lucky for her, focused on her. I told him I do that too, in these moments and everyday moments, but frankly, I'm getting sick of that advice. I mean really, I am getting so bitter when people tell me, "then you must be so grateful for A" Ummmm....yeah, but I don't see these same people telling the woman with all 3, 5, 7 of her kids that she should feel grateful for kids. Do you only have to feel lucky and grateful if some of your kids died? And you only get to feel bitter and angry if you have all of your kids? Yeah, totally makes sense.

So there you have it. I'm not proud of what I feel, I only know that I feel it. Isn't life SO unfair?

Make me feel better. Just agree with me. Don't tell me to be happy, okay?

Prayer for tonight? Please God, tell me I won't feel this way the rest of my life. Help guide me toward peace.

*One of the non selfish reasons it bothers me is the thought of this woman being responsible for another soul out in the world. My heart broke many a times over the years as I watched her and niece together. Its sad to think the cycle will be starting again.

**I'm still sitting here struggling with feeling like I must have done something to deserve it somehow. I guess the road to accepting life doesn't make sense is longer and harder than I ever thought.

Expectations

Today, I feel sad. And I hate it.

I feel sad more than anyone knows though. I don't know who to talk to anymore. The other day, I mentioned something to my mom, who has been my most patient and non-tiring listener. I said it, and then....the conversation died. I couldn't help but feel that even with her, I've used up my talking about it time.

The funny thing is, that since IZ died, I really haven't talked about it much. Partly from me, because truthfully, it hurts so much that denial seems like exquisite relief, but also because nobody really asked. I think everyone thought I was already a pro at the grief stuff. I can't help but feel every one's tiredness with my whining. Even here, my supposed outlet, I don't let it out fully. After all, I have A. Why can't I just appreciate that and quit being sad about what I don't have?

I wish it were that easy for me.

It has been almost a year since IZ died, and I really, really wish I felt better. I've been reading this memoir about a woman with a drinking problem. She was very functioning and was successful at her job. She has long paragraphs in her book about about her outside life, the one everyone saw, and her inside life, the one she was dealing with. I couldn't help but see myself in those descriptions even though I don't drink.

I think I'm a good mother. I do all the things you are supposed to do. And I do laugh and have a good time with A. Sometimes though, maybe every couple of weeks, I feel like I could be so much more. More happy, more joyful, more patient. I want my outside to match my inside more often than it does.

This post over at Glow in the Woods about the grief vs. depression question struck a strong chord in me. Honestly, I think I could use some help this time around. But, my visit with a therapist after M died left me with a bad taste in my mouth, and I can't quite seem to move on from it. I'll try to sum it up quickly.

After barely talking to me, I got sent to a prescribing doctor who quickly gave me anti-depressants. The therapist kept calling M a miscarriage. Someone from the office accidentally put down that I was there for bi-polar disorder, a label on my chart that followed me through several other doctor appointments, even though I kept calling and asking them to fix it. I quit going, quit the anti-depressants even though the doctor, kept telling me I needed them. (in hindsight, I don't think I did at all, it was just grief) On my first doctors appointment for IZ, I saw the bi-polar label. I called once again was assured that it was removed. At the next doctors appointment, sure enough, the computer screen was clear. Then, when IZ died and I got sent to an outside clinic to remove him, the nurse practitioner says, "how is your bi-polar disorder?" I take a look at the paper copies of my medical chart they were sent, and there it is, once again. I still haven't sorted that out.

Whew. There you have it. On top of that, I keep thinking, well, what the hell can they do anyway? They can't solve it. So.....what's the point? Even though I know those thoughts don't help me either.

I go through long periods where I can quickly think of all the reasons A is lucky to be an only child. All the pluses. But then I have a week or two where I just can't accept what's happened, and I am miserable. In those weeks, I think all the time I was feeling better were fake. I was only pretending.

Tell me, how can anyone, any drug make this seem better for me? It happened. I have to live with it. Somehow. Sometimes I can't figure out how. It sucks, but maybe this is just my life.

Maybe a drug would give me little more pep in the morning. Make it easier to deal when things got a little rough, like when A gives me such a hard time about brushing her teeth or changing her diaper. Because sometimes it feels like every ounce of energy goes towards feeling okay
and I don't have anything left for those normal bumps in life. Maybe a drug would help me feel more real joyful and not so forcing it joyful.

And, round and round my mind goes.

What is the right answer? What should be my expectations at this point in the journey? My expectations for people listening to my pain? My expectations for happy?

I can't figure it out.

Same road, different view

"Hi, I'm ms. g, and I have 2 dead babies."

It feels this way sometimes, like a 12 step meeting, and I have face facts that I, do in fact, have 2 dead babies. Because sometimes, I just honestly don't believe it. Sometimes, I can't believe that A made it. I want to ask her, what was her secret? How did she survive the disaster that is my body/womb?

Grief, the second time, can be so familiar on one hand, and yet, other times I am navigating in dark, new terrain.

You know that feeling that many of us have when our babies die? That we are the only ones this has ever happened to, that no one really understands us? I have that much worse now. So many people who had a loss around the same time as I lost M, have gone on to have the second after loss baby. And even those who haven't, still consider having another. I have not met very many people who are done through circumstances not their choosing. Then, there is A. I do have A, so I don't really fit in much with people who do not have their after loss baby yet. On top of that, when talking to people whose loss is new and they are trying again, I feel almost guilty telling my story. Hey! Here is something else to add to your worries, it CAN happen again, and you have living proof sitting right in front of you!!

As for the "regular" people, well, when I lost M, I thought they could make it difficult to grieve openly, because you know, they just didn't get it. Now, in hindsight, I think they were generous in their permission. Now, I get the, "Well, at least you have A", "Be thankful for A", "Just enjoy A", and my favorite, "Maybe god only meant for you to have A" (yes, this was actually said to me, although not by someone close to me, and I was able to roll my eyes and move on instead of falling apart) Sometimes, I find myself agreeing with them. When I forget to be kind to myself, I berate myself with negative messages about how I am not enjoying A enough, I am so busy being sad about what happened to me. When I remember kindness to myself, I can remind myself that I have the right to be sad, and that in fact, I can do both simultaneously, enjoy A and wish it were different.

It's hard to feel like I am back to being the neediest person I know. When you are going through loss, it can feel like you take, take and take some more from the people you are close to. You don't have much to give. That is okay, once. But, it can start to feel selfish when you are there again a mere 4 years after the first time.

Remembering two babies often feels too sad to me. When M died, I loved all the memorials to him. The pictures in my house, the jewelry, etc. Now, that stuff seems exhausting and too depressing to contemplate. I had a bracelet with M's name on it. Now I have an image of a woman with an armful of bracelets crawling up her arm. This feeling seems to be changing a bit with time. (don't they all change with time?) I have been considering getting a pencil portrait with my 2 boys together and putting that in house, and only that, as my one single remembrance of my lost family. Haven't really decided yet. I don't want to forget them, (is that even possible?) but the urge to focus exclusively on A is strong.

I'm navigating everyday the best I can.

WHEN?

When will I feel better than I do today?

When can I stop have crying jags in front of my daughter?

When will I stop feeling like the worst mother in the world?

When will I feel real joy again? Without effort?

When will A sleep again so I can wake up feeling like I'm starting the day at least at a 3 instead of 0?

When will I not have overwhelming anxiety?

When will I be able to visit a doctor and not be assaulted with memories of all the bad news?

When will I feel like I am strong enough to handle my grief and a 2 year old?

I know I can't be the old me, but I need to be a better me for my daughter, when will that happen?

When will I stop having so much fricking guilt over everything, including my parenting, that if guilt were calories, I'd weigh 500 lbs.?

When?

Unqualified

If you have a blog, that I have previously commented on, and you are pregnant, and lets just say you have noticed I have not commented much, or at least, not commented on any posts regarding your pregnancy, well, you may be right.

Of course, I have been avoiding talking about pregnancy from the normal people. I think we all have all done that. In fact, at work, a co worker's girlfriend is pregnant, and it was a topic at work the other day. He is young, still in college, the pregnancy was unexpected, etc., etc., so that was part of the conversation. I was doing a good job of not getting involved. Until later, when something about motherhood came up, and my boss, said, "you know, O got his girlfriend pregnant". I put on my game face, said, "yeah, I heard". And, I swear people, I really, really thought I was doing a good job, but I saw a look on her face and felt the retreat of conversation happen, and I thought, SHIT, does it really show that much? Does the painfulness of that type of conversation just wash across my face even when I am trying my hardest to be normal?

It took me a bit of time to realize that I was also avoiding pregnant after loss people. It took me a bit of time to admit that even from the those people, the news hurt. I felt like a bad person.

The path I walk now is so completely different than when M died. After M died, I still had a little thing we call hope. Hope, that one day, I would be pregnant again, and have a living child. Hope, that my family would still grow. Hope, that I could heal and maybe actually, GASP! talk about pregnancy and birth stories without wanting the floor to swallow me whole.

POOF! That's hope, going up in smoke.

Let us take a moment to address what I know some of you may be thinking. I know I have A. I know I did in fact get to have a normal pregnancy with a healthy living child. I know this. I know I am blessed beyond belief. I did to get to experience some normal feelings and talk about pregnancy like a semi normal person after having A. Believe me, it was fantastic while it lasted. I am just talking about some specific issues right now. I am not in any way diminishing my experience getting to have A.

To those of you pregnant after loss, I'm sorry. It isn't you, it's me. It does hurt, because I wish I still had those chances on my horizon. I feel the need to say though, that I figured out it isn't just hurt that stops me. I am unqualified to speak. Let's face it. Do you really want to hear what I have to say about it? Me, who lost again? There have been a few times when I read a pregnant after loss post, totally intending to comment and then, my tongue ties. What shall I say? It's like being interviewed for a position as a rocket scientist. I got nothing. Nice meeting you, thanks for the interview, let me let you get back to talking to the qualified people, the ones who still have hope, and have more to say than I do, that can launch a rocket to the moon.

So, that is it. Can I make a blanket, wish you well, and leave it at that? Because, you know I DO wish everyone well.

I can't seem to learn how to accept this. And yes, I know there are other women out there, who ended up with one child, or even no child, or like me, just ended their childbearing in such a negative way, but some days, it can feel like I am the only one.

This post feels a bit self pitying. I get tired of my own whining. On the other hand, I hate that I feel like I need permission to feel bad. God, I am so screwed up.

In Due Time

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

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.

Hurting

It's catching up to me. I'm hurting, and very, very angry. And, I'm trying to work with it. I know I have to do this, so that maybe I can go on to have a happy life, enjoying my A, and not wishing, at least not too much for things I can't have.

What I want is to be over it. I don't want to obsess over what I don't have, rage childishly over the goddamn unfairness of life, feel a freaking twinge everytime I see or even think of siblings close in age, or feel so empty. I do want to just accept it. Just accept that this is it, this is my life, and then I want to be happy. I want to feel okay when I have to see or hear anything pregnancy related. I want to be totally fine with A being my only, and not even think about what her and I don't have. I want to see things for newborns and think only, "A is too big for that", not "Christ, this hurts, why the hell don't I have my babies, why the hell can't I have another happy ending pregnancy?"

I'm fooling myself though. That I can just be there, automatically. But, I want it so bad. And even though I know I won't always feel like I do today, I can't imagine a time when I will have total acceptance, and that sucks. I hate, hate, HATE wanting what I can't have. Seems so pointless. It is pointless to wish you were someone else, someone else with a different story. That is what I have been feeling lately. Just wish I could be somebody, almost anybody, different.

I still entertain notions of trying again. Is that crazy? I have actually thought of discussing it with the doctor. (Guess I'd have to call her back to do that though, right?) But....with every thought of doing it again, it is followed by a thought of no, I can't do it again. And, I don't know what voice I should listen to. I guess the no voice. I mean, really, it just makes the most sense. And, I start to think, well, if I only have A, then it will be so fun, she will have all of me, no sharing attention, no not going to D.isneyland because the family doesn't have the money, no any of the things that happen because everything, time, money, desserts, have to be shared.

I find myself doing that, listing positive things about having and being an only child. It's my new hobby.

I'm scared. Scared to even really think about being pregnant again, scared to end it this way. Scared even just a strong wind will blow me over, and I won't be able to get back up.

What the dreams mean

Let me start this post by saying thank you for all the supportive comments, and thank you, Tash and Coggy, for checking on me. As we all know, life doesn't stop just cause you're hurting, and my reason for not posting again sooner is my usual. Little Miss A has a heck of a time letting her mom have a turn on the computer. I am so glad we decided to put it in the 3rd bedroom when we moved to this house, as we can close the door and she can forget all about the computer.

I'm not exactly sure what to talk about or where to begin. I'm sitting here again, but it does feel very, very different. I'm terribly sad, yes, but for some reason, I feel unable to address it or even talk about really. Am I in denial? Maybe, but I can't seem to stop myself. Plus, I have a little person to care for, and that doesn't leave a lot of time for one to mull over her hurts. I did have a bad day yesterday. I think it was because my doctor called to talk to me. It was just a message, but for some reason, I felt frozen by it. That is why I think I must be in denial. Its like I just can't GO THERE. If I talk to the doctor, then I have to talk about what happened, and what is the point of that, I think to myself.

When I am feeling bad, I keep thinking it would be so much healthier if I would just CRY already, you know? But instead, it is just the deep sinking feeling of all out misery that hits me. Oh, and anxiety, that something will happen to A one day and any reason I have for going on will cease to exist. The two most likely go hand in hand because my misery sets in usually when I have to leave her to go to work. So, in my 20 minutes of alone time while driving, I try to let myself feel bad, because I know in the end it is FOR THE BEST, but in creeps anxiety as I drive further away from my sweetie. I want to be one of those people that lost, and so goes on saying, "LIVE EACH DAY TO THE FULLEST!" you know, without worry, just enjoy A. Reality is, I am not one of those people, at least, not right now.

I seem to be doing a bit better FACING IT, than I was, as I finally told my family the baby's name. At first, I cringed inside when they used it, but I seem to be getting better at hearing it roll of someone else's tongue. I myself have only said it about 3 times. Can't do that yet, can't speak his name out loud for goodness sakes, and ADMIT that I lost another baby.

Oh yeah, the admitting. I went to the support group this month, thinking I needed it again. But when I got there, I realized I didn't want to tell anyone. Could only think, "I am going to freak out all the people who have had only one loss and still have hope for a living child" I am a freak, even among the dead baby mamas now. Or at least, that is how it feels. And that feels lonely. I did go, and I did say the truth. And even though I left feeling angry and bitter, and planning never to go back, a week has made all the difference, because I can FEEL that those 2 hours released something in me and made it better somehow.

I had a dream the other night. In the dream, Mr. G and I were getting ready, for a night on the town, or maybe an event like a wedding, I couldn't tell. We were freshly showered, feeling like we looked polished and ready. We ended up having sex in the dream, before we left. And then the dream ended. It wasn't a sex dream, I realized as soon as I woke. It was a dream filled with a reminder, of an easier time, when spontaneous sex was still on the menu, and I laughed with ease at being in a social situation. I know what I long for. The ME I was BEFORE. The one who still believed the future was rich with possibility. Many of us know the envy feeling, the one we get when we see the carefree pregnants, or the mother of the kids we SHOULD have. But, the other day I saw a young girl, maybe college age, standing in a group of friends, chatting and laughing. And for a moment, I wanted to BE her, still young, and fresh. I could only think, "she still thinks one day she will have babies with ease" And I want that again. When life wasn't full of hurts, shock, and disappointments. And yes, by wishing away everything, it sounds like I am wishing away A too, for of course, she is part of the equation. But I try not to waste too much guilt on that. I know, as I hope you do, that it really has nothing to do with A, just my own feelings of trying to find my way on a road I didn't even know existed, much less that I would be on it. It some ways, it does strongly have to do with A, because I cannot describe the worry I feel about providing a happy home for her, filled with laughter. And I cannot tell you how many times I wonder what kind of parent my children would have gotten, if only.....who would I be as mom if I had never lost? Better? or Worse? Those things run circles in my mind everyday it seems.




*By the way, I still haven't called back the doctor. Yes, I am turning the situation downright awkward, but words still get stuck in my throat when I think about dialing her number....Any suggestions?

Fault with a side of stupidity

No matter what anyone says, I will always blame myself for M's death. I know I have not told much of his story here, and I do want to. I would actually like to tell it in a coherent way from the start to the end, but I never seem to sit down and do it. My urge to write things always comes in pieces. Today, the story takes place in the very beginning and the very end.

In the months before I became pregnant with M, I started feeling some joint pain. It was very mild at first, and mostly in my hands. It started to get slightly worse, and I ended up feeling pain in my feet as well. It took me a long, long time to finally go to the doctor because not only am I not a go to the doctor kind of person, but the discomfort was so sporadic. Here one day bad, next day mild, next day the pain wasn't there at all.

When I finally went to the doctor, he asked me a bunch of questions, including if I had ever been pregnant. He really didn't tell me anything, and sent me away with a pamphlet on arthritis and instructions to come back in a few months. I never went. Mostly because the pain started to feel better. But, honestly, also because time just got away from me and it wasn't like he seemed that helpful or informative anyway.

I found out I was pregnant. My world became consumed with that. I honestly don't remember if I mentioned to the ob/gyn that I saw someone for joint pain. I don't think I did. I think I assumed it was in my records.

Fast forward to the days before M died. He was too quiet. Much, much too quiet. I have a very vivid memory that I have never shared with anyone before. I was sitting on the couch, watching TV. It dawned on me that he wasn't moving. I poked my belly, and mr. g teased me, saying, leave him alone, he is sleeping. And I convinced myself that he probably was.

Another memory, we are eating dinner with mr. g's coworkers. I had my hand on my belly and one of them asked if he was moving around. I smiled, but then realized, no, he wasn't. I did nothing.

Let us tear apart my guilt here. I found out after M died, that I do indeed have some autoimmune condition and that was what was causing my joint pain. It isn't lupus, it isn't arthritis. They don't know what it is, I just have some weird antibodies. Of course, some autoimmune conditions are associated with pregnancy loss. Mostly miscarriage, but still. I have also had more than one doctor reassure me that they really don't think M's death was related because I don't have the conditions that are associated specifically with loss. Of course, I have read hundreds of things about autoimmune conditions now, and one thing I know for sure, it that the medical community doesn't know a lot about it. It is still very much a mystery to them.

Now I don't really believe it was my disease. But I don't know for sure. And I really dropped the ball on that one. The part that really eats me up inside, is that that isn't like me at all. I normally would go research stuff if I was having discomfort like that. Why didn't I? Why did I just go along willy nilly like? Why didn't I at least mention to the ob/gyn that I had visited a rheumatologist and that I was supposed to go back? Like I said, I am not sure it was actually my disease that killed him, but if I had gone back, if I had told someone, I probably would have been watched closer. Because having some weird antibodies gets you watched closer in pregnancy. I didn't know I had weird antibodies, because I didn't go back to the doctor. And maybe if they did decide to watch me closer, something would have been seen. Something maybe would have been caught, that made them go, "hey, this baby was doing so well, and now his heartbeat is slower". Or then again, maybe not.

Lets move on. Why didn't I go to the doctor when M was quiet? Why? Why? Why? How stupid could I have been? I feel the need to share that I am NOT an ignorant person. I try to keep up on things, read a lot, all that stuff. So how could I have not known that his stillness WAS NOT NORMAL? But I didn't. Every time I noted it, I convinced myself he was just quiet at that moment. Why didn't I check again later? WHY? I don't know. I don't know. I feel so dumb. Especially now that I have had baby girl A. Yes, babies move, ALL THE TIME, mostly. They don't just stop.

It just doesn't seem like me. The time I drop the ball is the ONE time it mattered so much. I don't know if I am being totally honest though. I say it doesn't seem like me to not go to the doctor, to not realize his stillness was wrong, but truthfully, that isn't me NOW. I was so naive back then. Maybe that was exactly me. I feel like I was so dumb and ignorant. Ignorant as a woman who smokes or drinks while pg., because she *doesn't know any better*.

I realize that even if I had done all things differently, it doesn't mean the outcome would have been different. The cord was around his neck, and according to his autopsy, he showed signs of asphyxiation. I tell myself that could have been it, and if so, then it took seconds, and no one would have caught it or been able to do anything about it. But sometimes I think I only tell myself that so I can continue to live with myself.

The guilt is crushing at times. And one of the worst outcomes of it, is that I have felt scared with baby girl A. What if she gets sick and I don't take her to the doctor soon enough? What if she has a cut, that I chalk up as nothing and it isn't nothing? And on, and on, and on.

I have told myself all of the comforting things. It wasn't your fault, if you had known, you would have done anything to save M, etc . etc. But in the end, I have to live with the guilt. It won't ever completely go away.

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I have to add, as I was re-reading this, I almost decided not to publish it. That is how ashamed I am of myself. I feel like I let my son down in huge ways. I did decide to go ahead though, because I know guilt is a shared thing in our community. And also because I need to get some of this stuff off my chest. I need to keep grieving and dealing with this. Two years later, I am just starting to realize I have barely scratched the surface. I'm pretty sure most of my grieving will be done here and in my head, because as we all know, most of the people around me think I am *better*. I hate myself right now.

Too lazy to rewrite my feelings on this

Not only do I let my feelings out here, but I also post on an online support group. I'm too lazy to write a real post about how hard this Mother's day is for me, so I am just going to copy the post I wrote there tonight.


I am really struggling this year. I know I have A, and believe me, I feel so blessed with her, you can't even imagine, but I just miss my little guy so much. I wish he could be here not only for me, but for A too.I could just feel a lot of sadness coming down on me as mothers day approached and I decided I really didn't want anyone to make a big deal out of it for me. I'm making dinner for my mom, but that is it. I'm just so bugged because a couple of people have acted like they are so excited for me and I know it is because they are thinking of this as my first mothers day. This came from even some family members, (in-laws) Then, a friend of ours brought me flowers today, and I don't want to sound ungrateful, but they wrote, "happy 1st mothers day" on the card. It stung. I mean, come on, I know being the mother to a baby that died means you might not "celebrate" mothers day in the traditional ways, but you are still a mom!! It just saddens me so much. After our friends left, I cried and cried to dh. I wasn't going to visit my inlaws tomorrow anyway, but I for sure can't now. I am just feeling too emotionally fragile to deal with them. I will NOT be able to handle it if everybody makes a big deal over the day for me.Sorry to vent, please don't think I don't appreciate being A's mom. I do, so much. That is part of what gets me, I keep thinking about all of the mothers out there whose children are not with them.Thanks for listening.







To all of us who have a spent a mothers day without our children- I wish a gentle, peaceful day. Remember, you ARE mothers.

Husbands and air conditioning

We have a small room air conditioner in the living room only. It was a warm day today, and by mid afternoon, we decided to flip it on. My husband walked down the hall and started closing doors to the back rooms in order to not waste the cool air. We had a short discussion on whether or not to close A's door as we would probably be going in and out to change her diaper etc. I then asked Mr. g if he closed our bedroom door. He got a somewhat sheepish look on his face and said, "No, M is in there" Of course, he meant M's ashes which sit in a spot made just for him on our dresser.

It was one of those moments when I realized my husband still does miss M, and does have his own little hang ups. He can't close our bedroom door when we are not in there because it feels like shutting M out somehow. I can't get rid of a pregnancy books on natural non medicated birth I got while pregnant with M, even though I will probably never have a natural non medicated birth.

A funny thing about grief

Even here, it seems akward to talk about my grief. I can't help but feel the pressure of "you should be happy now!" since baby girl A is here. I imagine mom's new to this club reading and not understanding, because their grief is so fresh, so horribly painful, that they don't really want to hear how someone like me feels now. I imagine them thinking things like, "But at least you have A, and you know you can have a living child". I know that I thought similiar things when I was new to my grief.

I am happy. I enjoy baby girl A more than words can describe. The grief is never far away though, and sometimes the whisper grows louder and I can feel incredibly sad. This is a somewhat confusing time for me. I don't know what to do with my feelings anymore. Where do I put them, how do I express them? As odd as this will sound, I almost wish I had spent more time before A just wallowing in my grief. I did to an extent, but I realize now that just a few short months after M died, I started working on *being normal* again. I tried so hard to function that looking back, I didn't get to finish the *crazy* part of grief. I was, in so many ways, *holding it together*. Then, when I became pregnant with A, I was so very focused on her, on hoping she would live.

I don't know what to do with my M feelings. I find myself wanting to speak of him, add him into the conversation, the picture, the family gathering....but how?? I write things about A, things about her growth, her milestones, and I want to somehow put M in there, marking his place in the family line. But how? How do you speak of someone who isn't growing, who isn't doing new things to talk about, and who was here barely a millisecond of time? I know, that in October, at the walk to remember, and on his birthday, I will at least get to do something with my feelings. I just wish I could figure out what to do the rest of the year. I do know I need to work on his baby book, so there is that. It just seems that everything I think of is so lonely. I'm the only one still living in M world. And the truth is, it doesn't matter what I do, it doesn't fill the hole. When I was new to my grief, every little thing I did for M, or to remember M felt good, and gave me a fleeting sense of peace. I'm not sure I get that anymore, I just feel hopeless that those things are it, that my mothering him has been reduced to gestures.

I miss him. I wish I had ALL my children here with me, where they belong.

I want to be pregnant again

Got you with that title, didn't I? I'll explain myself. I found myself reminiscing about baby girl A's pregnancy. I actually had the thought of, "ooooh, I wish I could go back in time and feel some of that excitement all over again" As soon as I thought that, my next thought was, "WHAT??????!!!!!!!!" I couldn't believe that thought had gone through my mind. I was very unhappy during her pregnancy. Wait,scratch that, not unhappy, stressed, very, very stressed. The entire time I was wanting to rush time along to the day she would be here, alive and screaming. I did a million different countdowns in my head, I had a thousand ways to deal with the slowly passing time of my pregnancy. I often tried to completely ignore dates and days except the first of every month, because it meant another month down, one less to get through.

So, why that thought? I realized I was only feeling nostalgic because I knew the ending. See, I know she comes out okay, so the thought now of reliving her pregnancy doesn't seem bad at all. It dawned on me that I didn't really enjoy her pregnancy much, and going back in my mind and having memories of it, was just my way of trying to enjoy a piece of it, even though it is long over. Oh, sure, I guess during the pregnancy I had my moments. She would make me laugh at times with her wiggles or hiccups. When I used my doppler and heard her heart, sweet joy and relief would wash over me. But, I have to be honest, I spent most of the time either begging for her to keep living, or just trying to forget I was pregnant in order to give myself a break from my morbid thoughts.

I have heard many pregnant after loss moms express their feelings of guilt, that they didn't enjoy their pregnancies. I had moments like that during the pregnancy. Now that she is here though, it isn't guilt I feel, because, well, it doesn't really matter, I shower her with love now, it doens't matter how I felt during her pregnancy. I feel sadness though. Sadness that that is how it had to be and probably will be for any possible future pregnancies. I mourn my sweet M, but I also mourn my innocence.

Remember and Forget

A few months back, my mom found a picture of me at about age fifteen. I'm sitting in front of our Christmas tree, with a big smile on my face. My mom gave it to Mr. G and because he thought it was so cute, he put it in his car, right in front of the steering wheel, so he can see it when he drives. At the time, I thought it was sweet. If there is one thing that keeps me going, it is probably the fact that my husband seems to like me a lot.

Yesterday, though, I was having a tough day and we took his car to go somewhere. For some reason, I couldn't stop staring at the picture. I look so happy, so freakin innocent. I can't believe I thought I had problems then. For a moment, I had to urge to rip that picture up and let the pieces scatter in the wind. I will never, never be that girl again. Never that innocent, or hopeful, or healthy.

I always say your memories are so important, and you should try to record them as best you can. Right now, our thing, because of A being here, is a video camera, we must have a video camera. While we were discussing various choices, I had the thought that it was too bad we never purchased one before. It would have been fun to have video of our relationship through the years, the trips we took, the apts. we lived in. But I was immediately struck by the following thought that perhaps I wouldn't want to watch those. Do I really want to be reminded of the person I was before? It does nothing but serve as a very painful reminder of who I am now.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we shouldn't fill ourselves with memories. Maybe we should just live totally in the now, and then we don't have to think about what we don't have. I feel guilty for that though. If we did do that, how would we remember our dead? They are nothing but memory. I don't want to forget M, or any little thing about his short time here with me. I want sensory memory with him, so I can always remember exactly how he felt. I just don't want to remember that happy, healthy, innocent girl or that happy, active, innocent couple. It hurts too much.

Goodbye January

The last post of the month. I thought a good and small blogging goal would to make sure I post the last day of the month, no matter how the rest of the month went. The last day would be a good to day to reflect on the past 4 weeks and take a breather.

I have had quite a few sad days lately. Having A here intensifies the fact that I don't have M. You guys are probably tired of hearing me say that already, but it is so, so true.

My sister in law the other day was asking us about having more, how spaced out did we want our kids? She made some comment about "2 years" and, silly me, I thought she was referring to M and A. Before I opened my mouth, to agree, she made a follow up comment, and I felt dumb, realizing she was talking about the possible age difference between A and my next child. Yeah, cause we don't have to talk about M now, right? I answered back with a comment that, possibly, A will be our last. (Really need to post on this, by the way) She said, "Only 1 for you then?" I know what she meant, I do, she meant 1 in that sense of actively mothering, but it still stung. I was silent, I changed the subject, didn't correct her. I often do correct people, but sometimes I just get so tired, tired of having to correct people. It's strange too, because I do feel I actively parent M, does no one else see it this way? I love him deeply, and I keep his memory alive the best I can, isn't that actively parenting too?

I was tears a few nights ago because I was watching a show on dwarfism. Not the kind of dwarfism M had, a much rarer and seemingly more health affecting kind. But watching the show and watching the kids with this dwarfism struggle with the normal growing up issues but with a twist, sent me into tears. I miss M for everything, but also that unique perspective he would have brought to the family. I wonder what he would have taught us about being a dwarf in an average size world. How much he would have shown us! At least, I imagine so. There was a scene in the show, where the girl was at the mall with her average size friend. They were in the food court, and the camera showed an older man pointing at her, using his hands to show how small she was to whomever he was sitting with. It upset her terribly. Fire lit in me, I was so angry! A grown man should know better. It seems to me it is one thing to be curiuos, but then be an adult and direct enough to go talk to the person. At least then you give them an out, they can always turn you away. But to openly point at someone!

Those are just two examples of things that make me dissolve into tears lately. I know what you are thinking.....her poor husband.

Where Ms. G shuts up

So I know I have been totally silent lately. It is just hard for me to get a chance to get on. Believe me, I have made a million posts in my mind while I sit nursing A.

However, when I finally get on the computer, my mind is a blank. Honestly, I don't want to post too much about A. I really don't want to become a "mommy blog". I think I can post about whatever, but can I really do that with a title Broken Heart Diaries? I do still have some things to post about M. Lots, actually, I have always wanted to tell more of his story, but during my pregnancy with A, there were always those worries to speak of. So I plan to still post, sometimes about M, about A, or you know, whatever. It will just probably not be too very often right now, while I figure out how to nurse, comfort my fussmonkey and type at the same time.

*Sigh* Just a moment to reflect on that last sentence. As hard as it can be, I love that she is here with me, that nursing and typing at the same time are my concerns, instead of, "How will I survive this?" She gives me a run for my money, but I can't tell you how much I appreciate her very existence.

I'm sorry, was that last paragraph obnoxious? I don't mean it to be.

I am going to share my latest source of tears and anger. When I am struggling with *motherhood* and knowing what to do for her, I have this thought, "If M were here, I would know this stuff, I wouldn't be a *newbie*" And then I get pissed at this truth that is my life.

A big sigh and Christmas

Man, I have been wanting to post for awhile. I have not posted, not only because I'm lucky if I get both hands to use on the computer, but, honestly, I am having trouble finding the words to post about what I want to post about.

It's Christmas. I want to post about Christmas. And now, it seems almost silly to post about something that was 2 weeks ago. But, I'm gonna try.

I had baby A here at Christmas. And it was wonderful and awful all at the same time. I almost couldn't wrap my mind around it. How could it be the biggest high of my life and also make me so sad?

We do Christmas eve at the in-laws, and Christmas at my family's house. Christmas eve, I tried to suck every bit of joy out of the fact that baby A was here. I took pictures of her in front of presents and the tree, made her wear a santa hat, and, just sat and stared at her in wonder. I also cried about 6 times during the evening. I kept flashing back to Christmas after M died. How awful and how different from what I was experiencing this year. And when I say "flashing back" I mean it. The memories, especially certain details just kept swirling around my mind. I had somewhat the same experience the next day at my parents, but it seemed more intense at the in-laws. Not to sound dramatic, but I have wondered if people who have experienced what we have can have some mild form of post traumatic stress.

I know everyone means well, and a lot of their behavior comes just from the fact that they are so happy for Mr. g and I. Of course they are. But, I think the reason the memories and feelings were more intense at the in-laws was because I couldn't help but feel their sense of relief. Relief that now maybe we won't be the *sad ones* at family gatherings, especially Christmas. M's birthday was 3 days before A's birth, and only one in-law called us. One. I made cards, just like I did on M's first birthday, just to let the family know where we were donating and that we were thinking of him. And just like last year, no in-law mentioned the card. I love both my children, and one being here, even so close to when I lost the other, does not lessen or erase my thoughts of him. I found it making me think of him more, actually.

At my mothers the next day, I spoke of my feelings and even admitted that a part of me started thinking maybe I should have waited to schedule my c-section till after the holidays. Of course, I don't think I could have waited, but the parallels were a lot to handle.

I said it once, and I say it again. I enjoyed the heck out Christmas this year, enjoyed the heck out of baby A. But, other than the Christmas he died, it might have also been my saddest Christmas at the same time.

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And, unrelated, but just because it struck me so much- Has anyone seen the movie Easte.rn P.romises? Nao.mi Wat.ts plays a midwife (whom, you find out, had a baby "die while inside her"), and a young girl died while giving birth on her shift. The baby lived, and the midwife would like to find the family, so the baby may go to live with one of them. At one point in the movie, V.iggio Morten.son is giving the midwife a ride home. She is explaining about the death of the young girl. V.iggio gives her a confused look, and says, "I thought you worked with births" The midwife replies, "Yes, well, sometimes birth and death go together" Oh yes, truer words were never spoken.