I went to a meeting this morning with four other amazing ladies. We were talking about different things and one of the ladies sons has gone off to find himself. I said "I think I found myself last year." Another lady teased me and asked if I liked what I had found. I said, returning her light manner "some days more than others."
I started thinking.
In the past few days I have found myself feeling normal - my old normal, my pre-stillborn baby normal. I have felt happier and lighter than I have for a long time. I think it is a combination of different things. One more sleep. Spencer is only waking 1 or 2 times in the night to eat, instead of every 2 hours. Two is the season. It is Christmas at my house. The music is playing, the tree is up and I am feeling the spirit. Three is my children are happier. I am not sure if that is a reflection on my mood lift or if it is Spencer's age... Four Steve (daddy) is around more, he can come home for lunch a few times a week. He had a crazy October and November making up for his parental leave in September.
All of those factors aside, my pain that sits in the bottom of my heart for my baby Steve seems a little less sharp. Maybe I am just so used to it that my heart has grown around it - like a tree growing around a barb stuck in its side. Eventually an on looker won't be able to see the barb at all because the tree will have swallowed it up.
I am writing this to give some hope to those who are not as far along their grief journey. Today I feel good. I have found bits of myself again. Bits of my old happy self. I am different though. Maybe not to an onlooker but I feel older, more aware of sad things, more cautious and more grateful.
The title of my blog is trying to be grateful. I think I have finally achieved that.
I am grateful for everything I have today. I am grateful that I am feeling happy again in spite of a sadness that I will carry always.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
Saturday, 1 December 2012
STUGs
I am sitting in Spencer's bed room listening him sleep. He snores. I think he snores so I can know he is still breathing when I wake up in the middle of the night to be sure he is alive still.
When I was in a grief group for bereaved parents there was a mom who just had her rainbow baby a few months before. She said that she was scared of losing her living baby and would continually visualize different ways he could die. For example she was walking over a bridge with him in the stroller, she thought if he falls in he might drowned. She hurried over the bridge. I think I do this too. Last month I bought an escape ladder for Anne's bedroom because its the only one with no roof below the window. What if there is a fire? I also bought 2 carbon monoxide detectors for the bedrooms and by the fireplace. I try not to drive my car when the hwy is bad. I have a death grip on Anne in parking lots or I put her in a cart in the parking lot. Anyway, I can live with all these "precautions."
When I have too much alone time I think about why I worry so much and I have a tangible slamming feeling in my chest. My breath gets caught and my legs go numb. I picture my dead son. I remember the horror of labouring a stillborn baby into the world. I remember how he went from being so close to me inside and then wrenched away bc he was dead and he had to be buried. And then I think about my friend who died in an avalanche. My husband was there digging him out. He tried CPR for 45 minutes. Our friend had died on impact. There was nothing to do to save him. Death is so quick. It's like going up the stairs and missing the top step. It's done before you can catch your breath.
And then somehow you have to keep going. You have to get up. Move forward. Reorganize. Try to let go of where you thought you were going and visualize a different path.
My therapist spoke of something called STUGs. Sudden times of unexpected grief.
Most of the time I am fine, but some times they get me.
When I was in a grief group for bereaved parents there was a mom who just had her rainbow baby a few months before. She said that she was scared of losing her living baby and would continually visualize different ways he could die. For example she was walking over a bridge with him in the stroller, she thought if he falls in he might drowned. She hurried over the bridge. I think I do this too. Last month I bought an escape ladder for Anne's bedroom because its the only one with no roof below the window. What if there is a fire? I also bought 2 carbon monoxide detectors for the bedrooms and by the fireplace. I try not to drive my car when the hwy is bad. I have a death grip on Anne in parking lots or I put her in a cart in the parking lot. Anyway, I can live with all these "precautions."
When I have too much alone time I think about why I worry so much and I have a tangible slamming feeling in my chest. My breath gets caught and my legs go numb. I picture my dead son. I remember the horror of labouring a stillborn baby into the world. I remember how he went from being so close to me inside and then wrenched away bc he was dead and he had to be buried. And then I think about my friend who died in an avalanche. My husband was there digging him out. He tried CPR for 45 minutes. Our friend had died on impact. There was nothing to do to save him. Death is so quick. It's like going up the stairs and missing the top step. It's done before you can catch your breath.
And then somehow you have to keep going. You have to get up. Move forward. Reorganize. Try to let go of where you thought you were going and visualize a different path.
My therapist spoke of something called STUGs. Sudden times of unexpected grief.
Most of the time I am fine, but some times they get me.
Sunday, 9 September 2012
baby Spencer
If I could have made a wish list for this new baby, he is everything I would have asked for. He is perfect.
I know that every parent knows that their baby is the most beautiful thing they have ever seen; and I am no exception. Spencer Thomas has black hair and dark eyes. He was 7lbs 1ounce and almost three weeks early. He is very easy going, a good eater and a good sleeper.
If there is such a thing as compensation from God for loss I believe that Spencer being so wonderful may be part of that compensation. There will never be enough compensation in this life for the loss of my first born son but Spencer has carved out his own little part of my heart.
Right after he was born I was extremely angry. Labour hurts like crazy and I did not have any drugs with this labour or baby Steve's labour. They say that smell is the strongest sense tide to memory but I think pain comes in a close second. As my labour with Spencer progressed I felt as though I was sent back in time to my previous labour. As each of the milestone of labour passed and I could hear Spencer's heart pounding away over the monitor. I cried. My husband and nurses asked if I was in too much pain and I said no. My husband understood that I was sad about baby Steve and that reliving labour pain brought back a lot of grief and fear.
Then suddenly there he was. He cried. My husband held my hand and said "he is alive." I cuddled him tight and cried. I was so relieved to see Spencer breathing but so angry that baby Steve never cried for me. I felt guilty for allowing Steve's loss to affect my emotions around Spencer's first few hours with me.
Without intending to I caught myself comparing Steve and Spencer. I was not expecting them to look the same but I was hoping they would look enough alike that I might have some idea of what Steve would have been like as he grew up.
Over the last 9 days I have become attached to Spencer in a way that I did not get to be with Steve. Its extremely bittersweet.
I love Spencer so much.
I miss Steve.
I wish I was given the opportunity to love Steve like I get to love Spencer and Anne.
I know that every parent knows that their baby is the most beautiful thing they have ever seen; and I am no exception. Spencer Thomas has black hair and dark eyes. He was 7lbs 1ounce and almost three weeks early. He is very easy going, a good eater and a good sleeper.
If there is such a thing as compensation from God for loss I believe that Spencer being so wonderful may be part of that compensation. There will never be enough compensation in this life for the loss of my first born son but Spencer has carved out his own little part of my heart.
Right after he was born I was extremely angry. Labour hurts like crazy and I did not have any drugs with this labour or baby Steve's labour. They say that smell is the strongest sense tide to memory but I think pain comes in a close second. As my labour with Spencer progressed I felt as though I was sent back in time to my previous labour. As each of the milestone of labour passed and I could hear Spencer's heart pounding away over the monitor. I cried. My husband and nurses asked if I was in too much pain and I said no. My husband understood that I was sad about baby Steve and that reliving labour pain brought back a lot of grief and fear.
Then suddenly there he was. He cried. My husband held my hand and said "he is alive." I cuddled him tight and cried. I was so relieved to see Spencer breathing but so angry that baby Steve never cried for me. I felt guilty for allowing Steve's loss to affect my emotions around Spencer's first few hours with me.
Without intending to I caught myself comparing Steve and Spencer. I was not expecting them to look the same but I was hoping they would look enough alike that I might have some idea of what Steve would have been like as he grew up.
Over the last 9 days I have become attached to Spencer in a way that I did not get to be with Steve. Its extremely bittersweet.
I love Spencer so much.
I miss Steve.
I wish I was given the opportunity to love Steve like I get to love Spencer and Anne.
Friday, 24 August 2012
11 more sleeps
11 more sleeps.
Today I took my husband (who happens to be a doctor) out for lunch. He has delivered 3 babies this week. All good results.
He says to me "you know it must be hard eh?"
I say "what?"
He says "when you are a first time mom and you go into labour you have no idea how much it is going to hurt."
I say "ya so?"
He says "well you have 11 more days until you are induced and you know what the pain of labour feels like with an epidural and without one."
I say "ya so?"
Anyway the conversation continues about the merits of epidural vs no epidural. Whatever, I'll figure it out in 11 days.
The physical pain is something I can say that I am dreading a little. BUT the bigger fear is the potential emotional pain. Ya second time moms dread the labour pain but dead-baby-mommas dread something that will never go away. A type of pain that never completely heals.
My third baby will probably live. However having had my second die I have become aware of a type of pain that feels like emotional drowning. Like a meat tenderizer has your heart and smashes it.
Right now talking about labour, imagining having a new baby, people asking "you are so close are you getting excited?" Hurts like HELL.
I just did this.
Guess what? I was 39.5 weeks when my son died. I went through a whole effing pregnancy and labour for nothing. All I gained from that 9 months was a lifetime of regret, pain and fear for future pregnancies.
SO for those who care. NO i am not excited. I am scared. Those who have lost a baby will understand. If you haven't I hope you never do, because it is the worst kind of hell that I have ever experienced.
Today I took my husband (who happens to be a doctor) out for lunch. He has delivered 3 babies this week. All good results.
He says to me "you know it must be hard eh?"
I say "what?"
He says "when you are a first time mom and you go into labour you have no idea how much it is going to hurt."
I say "ya so?"
He says "well you have 11 more days until you are induced and you know what the pain of labour feels like with an epidural and without one."
I say "ya so?"
Anyway the conversation continues about the merits of epidural vs no epidural. Whatever, I'll figure it out in 11 days.
The physical pain is something I can say that I am dreading a little. BUT the bigger fear is the potential emotional pain. Ya second time moms dread the labour pain but dead-baby-mommas dread something that will never go away. A type of pain that never completely heals.
My third baby will probably live. However having had my second die I have become aware of a type of pain that feels like emotional drowning. Like a meat tenderizer has your heart and smashes it.
Right now talking about labour, imagining having a new baby, people asking "you are so close are you getting excited?" Hurts like HELL.
I just did this.
Guess what? I was 39.5 weeks when my son died. I went through a whole effing pregnancy and labour for nothing. All I gained from that 9 months was a lifetime of regret, pain and fear for future pregnancies.
SO for those who care. NO i am not excited. I am scared. Those who have lost a baby will understand. If you haven't I hope you never do, because it is the worst kind of hell that I have ever experienced.
Sunday, 5 August 2012
emotional hailstorm
Today I feel as unsettled as the weather of late. We seem to be have nice a run of hot days and then evening thunder storms.
I am excited because each day that goes by brings me closer to meeting this little baby. I have so many hopes for him and I am feeling very maternal. However I can feel building pressure and anxiety that is harder and harder to keep in check. We seem to be having a "run" of babies in our church community. There were two in the last couple of weeks and my husband has a lady in labour as I write this. He has two more before I am to be induced in 4 weeks. I was also told about someone very close to me who has just found out that she is expecting.
I am very scared right now that I am going have to go through the compounding grief and agony of losing this baby after having already lost a baby. I am sick with fear that I am going to watch other women I am close to continue to have healthy living babies for the rest of my life and I am going to feel only pain.
I have no faith that things are going to work out just because they should.
I am excited because each day that goes by brings me closer to meeting this little baby. I have so many hopes for him and I am feeling very maternal. However I can feel building pressure and anxiety that is harder and harder to keep in check. We seem to be having a "run" of babies in our church community. There were two in the last couple of weeks and my husband has a lady in labour as I write this. He has two more before I am to be induced in 4 weeks. I was also told about someone very close to me who has just found out that she is expecting.
I am very scared right now that I am going have to go through the compounding grief and agony of losing this baby after having already lost a baby. I am sick with fear that I am going to watch other women I am close to continue to have healthy living babies for the rest of my life and I am going to feel only pain.
I have no faith that things are going to work out just because they should.
Friday, 3 August 2012
Today
This morning I had my fourth ultrasound for this baby. I have one more at 36 weeks and then if everything looks okay, I will be induced at 38 weeks.
The tech was very happy with this baby today. He scored very well on the bio-phyiscal ratings and according to her, he weighs about 4.5 pounds.
I feel a little bit like a child waiting for Christmas morning. But this child is not sure what will be found under the tree.
At my 20 week ultrasound I was told that my son has a echogenic focus (bright spot) on his heart. This is considered a soft sign for Downs Syndrome or Trysomy 21. But my doctor said not to worry because it was an isolated sign.
At my 28 week ultrasound I was told that my son was not showing "breathing movements." My doctor said not to worry because he is still pretty small to be showing these type of movements.
Today it seems like everything was as it should be but I will wait until my doctors appointment on August 13 for the full report.
Clothes...
I try hard not to think about the future. I have hopes for the future but instead of seeing it with the clarity that I possessed a year and a half ago it's pretty fuzzy. I was putting away some baby boy clothes that I bought from a friend and it struck me that at this time in my last pregnancy I was doing the same thing. The feelings around the task had changed. I was giddy last time and I bubbled over with excitement about how cute the clothes were. This time I felt numb. The clothes are cute but they are just clothes and will be completely meaningless unless there is a little boy to fill them up and wear them out. I was showing my husband some of the clothes because he was giving me a hard time about getting second hand stuff. He wants to buy this baby some new cute clothes of his own. The hand-me-downs from his older brother who died are from a different season and many will not be worn. Baby Steve was a spring/summer baby, this baby will be born in the early fall. I will save them anyway. Somebody will wear them eventually.
Putting Baby Steve's Stuff Away...
I have two children's bedrooms upstairs. One is pink and one is green. Baby Steve was going to sleep in the green room. My husband and I have been referring to the "green room" as baby Steve's room until about a week ago when I said that we have to stop that. On the dresser was a scrapbook of baby Steve's short time with us. It is filled with pictures of Baby Steve, my husband and I at the hospital, funeral stuff, cards and all of baby Steve's ultrasound photos. There was a orange giraffe and a blue bunny that I knitted for him. There were three jellyfish that were part of a mobile for his crib and there was a candle given to us at his funeral. There was the white fluffy teddy bear that we were given at the hospital. On Wednesday I carefully picked up all of those things and set them in the bottom drawer of the six drawer dresser in the green room. As I closed the drawer I felt like someone had punched me in the chest as hard as they could. It was the raw aching pain that is ever present in the first few months after loss. I was floored by how powerful it was. I cried.
How many times throughout the rest of my life am I going to be saying good bye to Baby Steve? Goodbye is all I ever got to say to him.
This morning I had my fourth ultrasound for this baby. I have one more at 36 weeks and then if everything looks okay, I will be induced at 38 weeks.
The tech was very happy with this baby today. He scored very well on the bio-phyiscal ratings and according to her, he weighs about 4.5 pounds.
I feel a little bit like a child waiting for Christmas morning. But this child is not sure what will be found under the tree.
At my 20 week ultrasound I was told that my son has a echogenic focus (bright spot) on his heart. This is considered a soft sign for Downs Syndrome or Trysomy 21. But my doctor said not to worry because it was an isolated sign.
At my 28 week ultrasound I was told that my son was not showing "breathing movements." My doctor said not to worry because he is still pretty small to be showing these type of movements.
Today it seems like everything was as it should be but I will wait until my doctors appointment on August 13 for the full report.
Clothes...
I try hard not to think about the future. I have hopes for the future but instead of seeing it with the clarity that I possessed a year and a half ago it's pretty fuzzy. I was putting away some baby boy clothes that I bought from a friend and it struck me that at this time in my last pregnancy I was doing the same thing. The feelings around the task had changed. I was giddy last time and I bubbled over with excitement about how cute the clothes were. This time I felt numb. The clothes are cute but they are just clothes and will be completely meaningless unless there is a little boy to fill them up and wear them out. I was showing my husband some of the clothes because he was giving me a hard time about getting second hand stuff. He wants to buy this baby some new cute clothes of his own. The hand-me-downs from his older brother who died are from a different season and many will not be worn. Baby Steve was a spring/summer baby, this baby will be born in the early fall. I will save them anyway. Somebody will wear them eventually.
Putting Baby Steve's Stuff Away...
I have two children's bedrooms upstairs. One is pink and one is green. Baby Steve was going to sleep in the green room. My husband and I have been referring to the "green room" as baby Steve's room until about a week ago when I said that we have to stop that. On the dresser was a scrapbook of baby Steve's short time with us. It is filled with pictures of Baby Steve, my husband and I at the hospital, funeral stuff, cards and all of baby Steve's ultrasound photos. There was a orange giraffe and a blue bunny that I knitted for him. There were three jellyfish that were part of a mobile for his crib and there was a candle given to us at his funeral. There was the white fluffy teddy bear that we were given at the hospital. On Wednesday I carefully picked up all of those things and set them in the bottom drawer of the six drawer dresser in the green room. As I closed the drawer I felt like someone had punched me in the chest as hard as they could. It was the raw aching pain that is ever present in the first few months after loss. I was floored by how powerful it was. I cried.
How many times throughout the rest of my life am I going to be saying good bye to Baby Steve? Goodbye is all I ever got to say to him.
Monday, 30 July 2012
why this trial? my very personal spiritual thoughts
I was talking to someone today about trials. I don't make habit to talk about spiritual beliefs on this blog but I feel the need to work through my thoughts. I don't expect everyone to agree with how I make sense of the world but if you are interested please read on.
I am a Mormon. We believe that families are forever. You can be with your spouse and children etc for eternity. We believe that the purpose of life is essentially to gain a body and to be tested. We believe that there was life before this earth life and there is life after this earth life. Before we were spirits with no bodies, we are born and receive a body and we die and at the eventual resurrection we will rejoin our bodies and our bodies will be made perfect.
The second purpose - to be tested is what I am working through right now. Why do certain trials come to certain people? I cannot answer this. I was told in a blessing once that "devastating things happen in life but in the end they will all be for [my] ultimate good." This begs the question "how can losing a baby be for my ultimate good?" It only brings pain to my heart. If I really push myself I can see that losing my baby has expanded my emotional empathy. It has forced me to work through grief. Grief was something I had no understanding of before and now it feels like a familiar companion (unwanted in most instances but not so strange).
Most Christian religions agree that humans are imperfect and Jesus Christ died to atone or "make up the difference" between our personal best and the perfection which is required for us to rejoin our Heavenly Father. Some of you might not agree with that but it is essential to my next points. I think that I have trials to push me to rely on the Saviour. This is a challenge for me; I am a self reliant person. I work through my emotions by using logic and reasoning. I don't like relying on others for anything - especially my emotional well being.
My beliefs encourage me to rely on the Saviour. I think AA programs work the same way. Addicts are encouraged to give themselves over to a higher power during their 12 steps. They have to admit they are powerless to their addiction and thus need a "higher power" to make up the difference. To compare to my situation I am powerless to my saddness/grief/anger/post-traumatic-stress around the death of my son. I am easily overwhelmed when certain triggers present themselves in my life (i.e. not knowing where my husband is and if he is safe, other baby's successful births, my baby's anniversaries, comments about this pregnancy like "Is this your second baby?" etc). My fear, anger and hurt flares and I feel momentarily out of control. I can usually logic my way back down or de-escalate quickly but I often find that triggers seem to come in waves. In these instances by the end of the day I am emotionally shot. I have a lot of tools to hide this part of myself. My tools are my creative outlets, talking to my husband or my mom, books, journaling - all things that feed my emotional energy. But sometimes they are not enough - this is where my spirituality comes in. Prayer helps. Thinking only about today my utterances of prayer are multiple. The utterances are not usually a formal on my knees plea, they are mostly quick and are almost always in regards to blessing members of my family with safety in their travels. Mostly - "please Heavenly Father bless that my husband will live and be safe or please bless that my babies will outlive me."All the prayers end with "in the name of Jesus Christ Amen."
So why these trials? I don't know. I do know that my trials push me to rely on my higher power. I know that if I don't allow myself to have faith that my higher power will make up the difference between my personal best and perfection (not just "judgement day perfection" but daily "perfection" - or my ability to be calm and peaceful in daily life); I spiral into a state of overwhelming grief, anger and fear. The future holds no guarantees but I believe I can live with my husband, my daughter, my stillborn son and all my children to come forever because of my higher power and that is all that really matters.
So I get it, life is not a vacation, crap happens and it is everyone's prerogative to figure out their own way through it. Find your higher power - what ever it is - and continue to endure to the end because really when dealing with overwhelming trials what else can we do?
I am a Mormon. We believe that families are forever. You can be with your spouse and children etc for eternity. We believe that the purpose of life is essentially to gain a body and to be tested. We believe that there was life before this earth life and there is life after this earth life. Before we were spirits with no bodies, we are born and receive a body and we die and at the eventual resurrection we will rejoin our bodies and our bodies will be made perfect.
The second purpose - to be tested is what I am working through right now. Why do certain trials come to certain people? I cannot answer this. I was told in a blessing once that "devastating things happen in life but in the end they will all be for [my] ultimate good." This begs the question "how can losing a baby be for my ultimate good?" It only brings pain to my heart. If I really push myself I can see that losing my baby has expanded my emotional empathy. It has forced me to work through grief. Grief was something I had no understanding of before and now it feels like a familiar companion (unwanted in most instances but not so strange).
Most Christian religions agree that humans are imperfect and Jesus Christ died to atone or "make up the difference" between our personal best and the perfection which is required for us to rejoin our Heavenly Father. Some of you might not agree with that but it is essential to my next points. I think that I have trials to push me to rely on the Saviour. This is a challenge for me; I am a self reliant person. I work through my emotions by using logic and reasoning. I don't like relying on others for anything - especially my emotional well being.
My beliefs encourage me to rely on the Saviour. I think AA programs work the same way. Addicts are encouraged to give themselves over to a higher power during their 12 steps. They have to admit they are powerless to their addiction and thus need a "higher power" to make up the difference. To compare to my situation I am powerless to my saddness/grief/anger/post-traumatic-stress around the death of my son. I am easily overwhelmed when certain triggers present themselves in my life (i.e. not knowing where my husband is and if he is safe, other baby's successful births, my baby's anniversaries, comments about this pregnancy like "Is this your second baby?" etc). My fear, anger and hurt flares and I feel momentarily out of control. I can usually logic my way back down or de-escalate quickly but I often find that triggers seem to come in waves. In these instances by the end of the day I am emotionally shot. I have a lot of tools to hide this part of myself. My tools are my creative outlets, talking to my husband or my mom, books, journaling - all things that feed my emotional energy. But sometimes they are not enough - this is where my spirituality comes in. Prayer helps. Thinking only about today my utterances of prayer are multiple. The utterances are not usually a formal on my knees plea, they are mostly quick and are almost always in regards to blessing members of my family with safety in their travels. Mostly - "please Heavenly Father bless that my husband will live and be safe or please bless that my babies will outlive me."All the prayers end with "in the name of Jesus Christ Amen."
So why these trials? I don't know. I do know that my trials push me to rely on my higher power. I know that if I don't allow myself to have faith that my higher power will make up the difference between my personal best and perfection (not just "judgement day perfection" but daily "perfection" - or my ability to be calm and peaceful in daily life); I spiral into a state of overwhelming grief, anger and fear. The future holds no guarantees but I believe I can live with my husband, my daughter, my stillborn son and all my children to come forever because of my higher power and that is all that really matters.
So I get it, life is not a vacation, crap happens and it is everyone's prerogative to figure out their own way through it. Find your higher power - what ever it is - and continue to endure to the end because really when dealing with overwhelming trials what else can we do?
Monday, 16 July 2012
31 weeks the day after tomorrow
What do I hope for...
I used to hope you would be born in the spring.
I used to hope your hair would be brown.
I used to hope your eyes would be gray.
I used to hope that you would be smart.
Now,
I hope your eyes will open.
I hope you take a breath and cry.
I hope that you are born in the fall.
I hope that you are born alive.
I had a doctors appointment today. I am 31 weeks pregnant on July 18. During my first appointment with the doctor for this pregancy I asked for guarantees. I asked that I would not have to have another dead baby. The more times I go to the doctor the more I realise that there are no guarantees. Most likely things are going to be fine. 1/1000.
I have extra ultrasounds but they cannot predict abruption. I have a specialist but he cannot predict or prevent abruption.
My anixety is rising. 7 more weeks tomorrow until my induction. Can I keep you alive until then? My attachement to you, a family of 4, a future together is getting stronger. I try to fight the attachment with thoughts like:
- dont count your chickens before they hatch
- if everything goes as planned...
- at least I have already bought enough burial plots.
You move a lot. You seem to read my mind. As soon as I think you may have died and I start dreading dealing with compounding grief and loss you wiggle or kick.
Please don't stop.
Thursday, 21 June 2012
On your birthday...
Last year.
630 - 11pm June 20 -felt rhythmic cramping that we thought was the beginnings of labour. They started and stopped a few times so we just waited and went to bed.
330am felt a strong labour contraction and a strange "rushing" sensation but nothing else happened
530am my husband rolls over and looks at me and asks "any more contractions?" I answer "no"
I check for Baby Steve's heartbeat with the stethoscope
I cant find it
My husband says "lets go to the clinic and see if we can find it with the doppler"
I poke baby and have a drink of juice to wake him up.
no response
I get up to go pee and my water breaks.
the toilet is full of blood.
My husband yells at me to get in the car we have to go to the hospital now.
I grab a towel to protect the car as blood is gushing out of me.
We drive 160km to the hospital and all I can think of is I just left my 19 month old in her crib in our house by herself. Thank goodness she is asleep
We leave the car outside of the hospital entrance
We walk as quickly as possible to Unit 25. Blood is still gushing
The nurse puts me in the assessment room on a cot.
She puts the monitor on my belly.
There is no heartbeat. She looks in my face and says "let me try the Doppler"
No heartbeat
They stick an internal monitor inside and poke baby Steve in the head. They get my heart beat.
I ask my husband if my baby is dead. He says "don't say that"
The OB on call comes in with a bedside ultrasound.
She says "i am sorry your baby has passed away."
I can see on the ultrasound that his placenta has pulled away from the wall of my uterus
I hear my husband's grandfather come in and hear the OB. He put his hand on his face and started to cry.
I ask my husband if I am going to die too. He just looks at me.
The doctor and nurses prepare for a post-pardum hemorrhage.
My contractions that began after my water broke are getting stronger.
They wheel me to a labour room.
my baby is born at 837am
He is dead. He looks like me
He has dark hair and long skinny finger nails.
He is 7 pounds even.
I give him to his daddy and say "you name him, i can't."
The rest of the day passes in a blur for me.
The hospital volunteer took photos
Friends visited
His family came and held him.
His older sister gave him a kiss and said "brother."
I cried
a lot
I held him
we left him
at 9pm I went home without my baby.
630 - 11pm June 20 -felt rhythmic cramping that we thought was the beginnings of labour. They started and stopped a few times so we just waited and went to bed.
330am felt a strong labour contraction and a strange "rushing" sensation but nothing else happened
530am my husband rolls over and looks at me and asks "any more contractions?" I answer "no"
I check for Baby Steve's heartbeat with the stethoscope
I cant find it
My husband says "lets go to the clinic and see if we can find it with the doppler"
I poke baby and have a drink of juice to wake him up.
no response
I get up to go pee and my water breaks.
the toilet is full of blood.
My husband yells at me to get in the car we have to go to the hospital now.
I grab a towel to protect the car as blood is gushing out of me.
We drive 160km to the hospital and all I can think of is I just left my 19 month old in her crib in our house by herself. Thank goodness she is asleep
We leave the car outside of the hospital entrance
We walk as quickly as possible to Unit 25. Blood is still gushing
The nurse puts me in the assessment room on a cot.
She puts the monitor on my belly.
There is no heartbeat. She looks in my face and says "let me try the Doppler"
No heartbeat
They stick an internal monitor inside and poke baby Steve in the head. They get my heart beat.
I ask my husband if my baby is dead. He says "don't say that"
The OB on call comes in with a bedside ultrasound.
She says "i am sorry your baby has passed away."
I can see on the ultrasound that his placenta has pulled away from the wall of my uterus
I hear my husband's grandfather come in and hear the OB. He put his hand on his face and started to cry.
I ask my husband if I am going to die too. He just looks at me.
The doctor and nurses prepare for a post-pardum hemorrhage.
My contractions that began after my water broke are getting stronger.
They wheel me to a labour room.
my baby is born at 837am
He is dead. He looks like me
He has dark hair and long skinny finger nails.
He is 7 pounds even.
I give him to his daddy and say "you name him, i can't."
The rest of the day passes in a blur for me.
The hospital volunteer took photos
Friends visited
His family came and held him.
His older sister gave him a kiss and said "brother."
I cried
a lot
I held him
we left him
at 9pm I went home without my baby.
Thursday, 14 June 2012
Creating Meaning
So if you read my last post you'll know what I am talking about. I bought the sweater. It is so stinking cute and I figure if this babe does not make it, eventually I will give it to a living baby boy. Anyway I am on two count downs right now. One week until the year anniversary of my son's stillbirth and 12 weeks until i will be induced. Also going through my head is a count of the number of months (3) since my friend passed away in a tragic accident. A strange comparison of sorts creeps into my mind. I am thinking about where I was at on the 3 month anniversary of my son dying. I think I had just about hit the bottom of my grief. It would have been September 21, 2011. I cried everyday. I woke up every morning feeling like I had been hit by a emotional truck load of crap that I had to sort through before I could move on with the day. My husband and I had also began using Clomid again to try to conceive another baby. (It took 4 rounds to be successful). That had its own bundle of emotional junk. I have been trying to pin point the time in which I started to feel better. I guess between 6 and 8 month passed.
I think what helped me most was having things to look forward to again. Nothing made the loss go away but even small things that were interesting to me helped me continue to function. Anne and my husband and I went on a short trip to Tofino in Sept, we went to Cranbrook in December for a baptism and April for my niece and nephew's birthdays, we went to Victoria in May for mother's day. Making small daily plans with friends and family helped too. Anyway I guess I am saying all this because I remember at 3 months thinking I would never feel normal or better. Well, I do feel better but I have found a new normal. A normal that sometimes includes grief and sadness but not the crippling kind. I still think about my lost baby everyday. I wonder what he would be like now, how it would be to have two living children and expecting a third. Its a completely different path that is gone now.
So back to my initial purpose of this post. Creating meaning. My therapist and a few other people have asked what my plans for my son's anniversary are. I have been thinking really hard about it. I have had thoughts around releasing balloons and lighting candles but I want to create a legacy. I want to be able to give what I should have given to him to someone else. So I think I am going to "sponsor a child" in baby Steve's memory. I have some research to do on which agency to use but I would like it to be a boy. Age is not super important. Hopefully when Anne is old enough to understand she will capture the importance of giving instead of taking. I believe that when we* are ready, so much personal healing happens when we give to others and see them benefiting from our efforts. It moves us from a self-centered focus to a focus on others and helps us be grateful for what we do have and helps us acknowledge it really could "always be worse." So that is where I am at today.
*we being anyone bereaved or dealing with trials
I think what helped me most was having things to look forward to again. Nothing made the loss go away but even small things that were interesting to me helped me continue to function. Anne and my husband and I went on a short trip to Tofino in Sept, we went to Cranbrook in December for a baptism and April for my niece and nephew's birthdays, we went to Victoria in May for mother's day. Making small daily plans with friends and family helped too. Anyway I guess I am saying all this because I remember at 3 months thinking I would never feel normal or better. Well, I do feel better but I have found a new normal. A normal that sometimes includes grief and sadness but not the crippling kind. I still think about my lost baby everyday. I wonder what he would be like now, how it would be to have two living children and expecting a third. Its a completely different path that is gone now.
So back to my initial purpose of this post. Creating meaning. My therapist and a few other people have asked what my plans for my son's anniversary are. I have been thinking really hard about it. I have had thoughts around releasing balloons and lighting candles but I want to create a legacy. I want to be able to give what I should have given to him to someone else. So I think I am going to "sponsor a child" in baby Steve's memory. I have some research to do on which agency to use but I would like it to be a boy. Age is not super important. Hopefully when Anne is old enough to understand she will capture the importance of giving instead of taking. I believe that when we* are ready, so much personal healing happens when we give to others and see them benefiting from our efforts. It moves us from a self-centered focus to a focus on others and helps us be grateful for what we do have and helps us acknowledge it really could "always be worse." So that is where I am at today.
*we being anyone bereaved or dealing with trials
Thursday, 31 May 2012
moment by moment?
I heard a friend who lost her husband say shortly after that her life was "moment by moment." I think right now I feel like that a little but perhaps emotion by emotion or thought by thought? Let me explain...
On Friday I went to the farmers market and saw a little jacket for a baby boy. I wanted to buy it and had it been a year ago I would have. But now I don't want to buy anything before this baby is born because what am I going to do with it if he does not make it? I have a whole bunch of baby boy clothes in a dresser that were never put away. Those drawers stay closed. I am not sure how its going to feel to put them on this baby when they were bought for someone else... It is so weird. I know that baby Steve never wore them but they were bought or collected with him in mind.
I just spent the weekend getting IV fluid in the hospital maternity unit because I had a really bad flu and lost a lot of fluid. The doctors were concerned that I might go into preterm labour. My emotional energy has been so focused on this new baby for the past three days and the hope and promise of him - I had a bed side ultrasound, they checked his heart beat every shift change and I could hear people talking excitedly in the hallways on their way to see new babes. So much happiness and so hopeful. But then I got home and received a call that our baby's headstone came today. It is on the ground next to his grave. I am going to see it with his daddy after he gets home from work.
One moment up, one down. My emotional energy is split three ways. Anne, Baby Steve, new baby... a repeating mantra that goes around and around.
Baby Steve is so present in my thoughts right now also because his anniversary is coming closer and closer. It feels contradictory to be focused on a dead baby when I have a living one growing inside and a two year old charging around soaking up the world as fast as she can.
My therapist said that when we lose someone it is almost like they become frozen in time. And that time is gone. Life and time moves forward at a breathtaking rate and those grieving have to figure out a way to catch up and rebuild a new path to travel until life ends and we get to go home.
I think I felt my dead baby say to me in a moment of extreme grief, "Time will pass, your mission will end and when you come home we will all be there to greet you."
On Friday I went to the farmers market and saw a little jacket for a baby boy. I wanted to buy it and had it been a year ago I would have. But now I don't want to buy anything before this baby is born because what am I going to do with it if he does not make it? I have a whole bunch of baby boy clothes in a dresser that were never put away. Those drawers stay closed. I am not sure how its going to feel to put them on this baby when they were bought for someone else... It is so weird. I know that baby Steve never wore them but they were bought or collected with him in mind.
I just spent the weekend getting IV fluid in the hospital maternity unit because I had a really bad flu and lost a lot of fluid. The doctors were concerned that I might go into preterm labour. My emotional energy has been so focused on this new baby for the past three days and the hope and promise of him - I had a bed side ultrasound, they checked his heart beat every shift change and I could hear people talking excitedly in the hallways on their way to see new babes. So much happiness and so hopeful. But then I got home and received a call that our baby's headstone came today. It is on the ground next to his grave. I am going to see it with his daddy after he gets home from work.
One moment up, one down. My emotional energy is split three ways. Anne, Baby Steve, new baby... a repeating mantra that goes around and around.
Baby Steve is so present in my thoughts right now also because his anniversary is coming closer and closer. It feels contradictory to be focused on a dead baby when I have a living one growing inside and a two year old charging around soaking up the world as fast as she can.
My therapist said that when we lose someone it is almost like they become frozen in time. And that time is gone. Life and time moves forward at a breathtaking rate and those grieving have to figure out a way to catch up and rebuild a new path to travel until life ends and we get to go home.
I think I felt my dead baby say to me in a moment of extreme grief, "Time will pass, your mission will end and when you come home we will all be there to greet you."
Thursday, 24 May 2012
numb
Today is 23 weeks and 2 days.
I spoke with the monument place today and they said that my son's headstone would be ready for installation on May 29. I saw my therapist yesterday. She encouraged me to have a plan for the year anniversary of baby Steve (June 21). Is it bad that I don't want to think about that? I don't want to plan for it? It feels almost like if I think too much about my dead baby that my growing unborn baby will share the same fate. Death is so hard to think about when it is not staring you in the face all the time. Is it bad that I am trying to avoid it? I am putting all my hopes and positive energy into trying to get this new baby here - alive. But at the same time I don't allow myself to think beyond Sept 5 - his induction date. Because if he does not make it and I have not allowed my hopes to get too high maybe the grief wont be so hard this time around?
I wish that I could go back to being ignorant and blissfully happily pregnant where my biggest worry was if our house was going to sell before the baby came.
I spoke with the monument place today and they said that my son's headstone would be ready for installation on May 29. I saw my therapist yesterday. She encouraged me to have a plan for the year anniversary of baby Steve (June 21). Is it bad that I don't want to think about that? I don't want to plan for it? It feels almost like if I think too much about my dead baby that my growing unborn baby will share the same fate. Death is so hard to think about when it is not staring you in the face all the time. Is it bad that I am trying to avoid it? I am putting all my hopes and positive energy into trying to get this new baby here - alive. But at the same time I don't allow myself to think beyond Sept 5 - his induction date. Because if he does not make it and I have not allowed my hopes to get too high maybe the grief wont be so hard this time around?
I wish that I could go back to being ignorant and blissfully happily pregnant where my biggest worry was if our house was going to sell before the baby came.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
I suppose I will share on my own terms as a few people have figured out my baby's gender. It is a boy.
So as you may or may not be able to imagine that hurts a little. I am happy for another opportunity to raise a boy but I am nervous because I do not want myself or others to think that he will be a replacement or that everything has "worked out."
One child can NEVER replace another.
That is all I have to say on this subject. I don't really want people to try and discuss this any further with me right now. Please don't come up to me and say "i heard blah blah and how are you feeling about that."
Thanks for respecting my pain.
So as you may or may not be able to imagine that hurts a little. I am happy for another opportunity to raise a boy but I am nervous because I do not want myself or others to think that he will be a replacement or that everything has "worked out."
One child can NEVER replace another.
That is all I have to say on this subject. I don't really want people to try and discuss this any further with me right now. Please don't come up to me and say "i heard blah blah and how are you feeling about that."
Thanks for respecting my pain.
Monday, 30 April 2012
Wait I am not ready yet!
I have come to the understanding that it is the people who are the closest to us that have the most power to emotionally destroy us. To illustrate my point I will give an example of something horrible that happened to me that I am now completely over and then I will give an example of something I will never get over.
This is a letter that I wrote to the paper last week:
"On April 18, 2012 I was driving on Hwy 11 at 9:45pm in my husband's new car (a
manual). I was in the left lane stopped at the lights at Hwy 20. I was the
first car in the left lane. After the light changed I sped up to the posted
speed limit (80km/hr) and waited to merge. Two cars in the right lane sped up
to block me and a third was coming. I put my signal light on and was ready to
merge. The third car, a van also squeezed me out. I honked my horn to let him
know I was there and flashed my lights out of frustration. I continued on to
the 60th street entrance into Sylvan Lake. As I signaled my high beams
flashed again - this time accidentally as I was still shaken from feeling as
though I was going to be run off the road and still not used to driving that
car. The driver of the van stopped in the entrance to 60th street and stopped
his car. He proceeded to get out of his car and storm towards me. I am visibly
pregnant and obviously a woman. He yelled and swore at me that he had the
"right of way" and that if I were a man he would have pulled me out of the car
and beat me up. He said that he was "so sick of this." I am not sure what he
was referring to exactly. Perhaps that others are racing to get in front of
him a the merge? Anyway I was not very happy with the way he treated me and
that he was not interested in listening to my side of the story. I hope he
reads this and will have a little more patience and compassion for other
drivers who might make mistakes and probably are not trying to be vindictive.
If I had managed to collect my self to memorize his plate I would have
reported him to the police for harassment."
I watched for this van on the highway the day after but now I find myself not caring about this encounter. It taught me a lesson about what I will do if I ever find myself in a similar situation but it no longer drains my emotional energy.
On the opposite end of the extreme is my current pregnancy and my loss of my last baby. As stated in my last post I have some baggage around gender of my children. There are many reasons for this that I am not going to explain because others may consider them to be petty or unimportant. I will say that the reasons for my baggage are my own and they do exist for me. I cannot simply dismiss them even if they really are not that important. The point is that I have significant pain that I am dealing with right now and I have a number of individuals whom I am especially close to that seem to think that it is their right to know if my baby is a boy or girl just because I let everyone know the last two times.
What they fail to grasp is this time is different. I am not good at dealing with pain. I need time to process and be okay with this before I can celebrate it with others. I feel guilty because all I want is to be celebrating this pregnancy like I did with my other two. SO when I am ready to share my good news I will. Until then I ask for some patience and compassion from those who are curious. You will know probably before I am ready to tell anyway.
This is a letter that I wrote to the paper last week:
"On April 18, 2012 I was driving on Hwy 11 at 9:45pm in my husband's new car (a
manual). I was in the left lane stopped at the lights at Hwy 20. I was the
first car in the left lane. After the light changed I sped up to the posted
speed limit (80km/hr) and waited to merge. Two cars in the right lane sped up
to block me and a third was coming. I put my signal light on and was ready to
merge. The third car, a van also squeezed me out. I honked my horn to let him
know I was there and flashed my lights out of frustration. I continued on to
the 60th street entrance into Sylvan Lake. As I signaled my high beams
flashed again - this time accidentally as I was still shaken from feeling as
though I was going to be run off the road and still not used to driving that
car. The driver of the van stopped in the entrance to 60th street and stopped
his car. He proceeded to get out of his car and storm towards me. I am visibly
pregnant and obviously a woman. He yelled and swore at me that he had the
"right of way" and that if I were a man he would have pulled me out of the car
and beat me up. He said that he was "so sick of this." I am not sure what he
was referring to exactly. Perhaps that others are racing to get in front of
him a the merge? Anyway I was not very happy with the way he treated me and
that he was not interested in listening to my side of the story. I hope he
reads this and will have a little more patience and compassion for other
drivers who might make mistakes and probably are not trying to be vindictive.
If I had managed to collect my self to memorize his plate I would have
reported him to the police for harassment."
I watched for this van on the highway the day after but now I find myself not caring about this encounter. It taught me a lesson about what I will do if I ever find myself in a similar situation but it no longer drains my emotional energy.
On the opposite end of the extreme is my current pregnancy and my loss of my last baby. As stated in my last post I have some baggage around gender of my children. There are many reasons for this that I am not going to explain because others may consider them to be petty or unimportant. I will say that the reasons for my baggage are my own and they do exist for me. I cannot simply dismiss them even if they really are not that important. The point is that I have significant pain that I am dealing with right now and I have a number of individuals whom I am especially close to that seem to think that it is their right to know if my baby is a boy or girl just because I let everyone know the last two times.
What they fail to grasp is this time is different. I am not good at dealing with pain. I need time to process and be okay with this before I can celebrate it with others. I feel guilty because all I want is to be celebrating this pregnancy like I did with my other two. SO when I am ready to share my good news I will. Until then I ask for some patience and compassion from those who are curious. You will know probably before I am ready to tell anyway.
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
19weeks
19 week ultrasound today. It went okay but I cried. I can't remember feeling as vulnerable since baby Steve died.
I was watching the tech's face waiting for some grimace or scowl to show something was amiss. At the end of the test I said to him "my last baby died can you tell me the gender before my husband comes in so I can deal with it." he told me and I cried. I am not really ready to tell others yet because I am still not certian how I feel about it.
I have to get to "okay" before I share the gender because if I don't and somebody says the wrong thing or hits a nerve inadvertently I am not sure what my response will be. So please don't ask.
Both genders would have different baggage for me but one is significantly painful.
Otherwise things seem to be okay but I await the official report from my doctor.
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
Media
Our friend was killed in an avalanche last weekend. I have been resisting as hard as possible reading the comments that follow the online articles about the incident but they seem to glare at me out of the computer screen. What amazes me is how impossibly cruel people can be when they don't know the person, or all of the facts. Our friend was not being reckless - in fact he was on his way to help a friend whose snow machine was stuck. He was an amazing person, caring, kind, generous, funny and one heck of a great father. The world is a poorer place for losing him.
If I were in charge I would reach through the computer and shake the ignorant pricks so hard that their brains would fall out.
I am angry this has happened to someone of such incredible worth. Shame on the fools for using his death as a soapbox for cruelty. Have some compassion A-holes.
If I were in charge I would reach through the computer and shake the ignorant pricks so hard that their brains would fall out.
I am angry this has happened to someone of such incredible worth. Shame on the fools for using his death as a soapbox for cruelty. Have some compassion A-holes.
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Drs appt
I was told today that losing my baby was "bad luck." Placenta abruption can happen at anytime and it probably won't happen to me again. The man who told me this was an Obstetrician. Well Mr Bad luck, you can bend over and take it up the tail pipe. I am not okay with probability. My son was probably going to live too. Sometimes doctors play God. I am not okay with having my future children being subject to whatever luck happens to be present the days I go into labor with them.
Women all over North American get C-sections for reasons less than a previous stillbirth. Why does my doctor think that it is okay to wait and see what happens. How the hell are you going to get a baby whose placenta is abrupting from Unit 25 on the 2nd floor to the operating room which is in the basement before he dies? Riddle me that Dr Bad Luck. You are full of sh$t.
Thanks for nothing.
Women all over North American get C-sections for reasons less than a previous stillbirth. Why does my doctor think that it is okay to wait and see what happens. How the hell are you going to get a baby whose placenta is abrupting from Unit 25 on the 2nd floor to the operating room which is in the basement before he dies? Riddle me that Dr Bad Luck. You are full of sh$t.
Thanks for nothing.
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
So this morning I woke up with flashbacks of labor and finding out my baby is dead. I have fought with my head for most of the day and I finally feel as though I have beat the anxious pit in the bottom of my stomach. Yesterday was wonderful. I woke up well rested and Anne and I played all day. I would say that I have flashbacks 3 of 5 mornings. It can sour the day for me emotionally if I can't clear the bad thoughts. I know that Anne can sense it. I withdraw from her a little - just in the sense of not talking as much and not singing with her.
It is hard to explain but it is like climbing out of a hole. It is like reliving the stages grief each morning although not to the same extreme as 8 months ago. I hope this goes away eventually. It makes it really hard to be optimistic about the future. I want to be able to have a daily positive outlook and a renewed hope for the future. Some times I think to myself - I don't want this life. I don't want this life where my child is absent. Every child is unique and different and I could have a million more children and never replace him. How am I supposed to get to a point where I am at peace with this loss? How is it possible to be a peace when you have to relive the emotional trauma alone in your head during your early waking hours?
Unless you have had to give birth to a dead baby it is probably difficult to understand how out of control this sort of situation makes a mother feel. For 9 months you put so much effort into helping a new life grow and then it is abruptly, violently, cut short. There is no reward for your work, the time is lost. It is almost like you were never pregnant. As life continues people will forget about your tragedy. Part of my life will have disappeared forever.
I will never forget. My head and heart won't let me.
It is hard to explain but it is like climbing out of a hole. It is like reliving the stages grief each morning although not to the same extreme as 8 months ago. I hope this goes away eventually. It makes it really hard to be optimistic about the future. I want to be able to have a daily positive outlook and a renewed hope for the future. Some times I think to myself - I don't want this life. I don't want this life where my child is absent. Every child is unique and different and I could have a million more children and never replace him. How am I supposed to get to a point where I am at peace with this loss? How is it possible to be a peace when you have to relive the emotional trauma alone in your head during your early waking hours?
Unless you have had to give birth to a dead baby it is probably difficult to understand how out of control this sort of situation makes a mother feel. For 9 months you put so much effort into helping a new life grow and then it is abruptly, violently, cut short. There is no reward for your work, the time is lost. It is almost like you were never pregnant. As life continues people will forget about your tragedy. Part of my life will have disappeared forever.
I will never forget. My head and heart won't let me.
Friday, 2 March 2012
so irritated
Yesterday was talking to someone about someone (gossip yes I know). Anyway this person referred to another who had recently suffered a medical misfortune. Not super serious but enough to be concerned about. SO anyway the person I was talking to said that a fourth person had suggested that the person who had the misfortune had it because she chose to work on a Sunday. Normally I would scoff at such a comment and continue on my way. How dumb -There are millions of people who work on Sundays. Why are they not all sick?
The reason this comment has stuck with me is because if someone was punished for a perceived sin by having a medical misfortune what the HELL am I being punished for? I hate how hard it is to understand life and church doctrine. There does not seem to be sense to anything.
Lately I have been trying to figure out why bad thing happen to good people. At church we are told that nothing comes into our life that is not for our ultimate good. We read the bible which has examples of people who suffer for their "sins."
I think we interpret all kinds of crap to mean whatever suits us.
My therapist says that people look for reason that bad things happen to others so they can take precautions to avoid similar situations in their own lives. She is the only person who has made logical sense to me regarding this matter.
Next time you think you know "why" something bad happened think before you speak. Chances are you have no idea.
The reason this comment has stuck with me is because if someone was punished for a perceived sin by having a medical misfortune what the HELL am I being punished for? I hate how hard it is to understand life and church doctrine. There does not seem to be sense to anything.
Lately I have been trying to figure out why bad thing happen to good people. At church we are told that nothing comes into our life that is not for our ultimate good. We read the bible which has examples of people who suffer for their "sins."
I think we interpret all kinds of crap to mean whatever suits us.
My therapist says that people look for reason that bad things happen to others so they can take precautions to avoid similar situations in their own lives. She is the only person who has made logical sense to me regarding this matter.
Next time you think you know "why" something bad happened think before you speak. Chances are you have no idea.
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
spiteful
I just had an interesting conversation with a woman I don't know on a facebook post that was not my own. Isn't funny when we are locked into a conversation with someone who is dead set on being right or having the last word. I often fall into the trap of "I walked on the moon." Let me explain. There was a comedy skit on a video we borrowed from friends that went as followed:
Dinner table at a restaurant, there is a group of acquaintances. Some know each other better than others. There is one slightly obnoxious individual who for whatever reason dominates the conversation. He talks about himself and if anyone brings up anything he "tops them" with his own more interesting or crazy experience. At this table unbeknownst to the "topper" is Neil Armstrong. As the table begins to tire of the incessant blabber of the guy who cannot quit talking about himself Neil says in a quiet voice, " I walked on the moon."
That shut the "topper" up.
Sometimes people blabber about their trials or crappy experiences and bear testimony about how "we are not tried beyond our ability." My inward response is usually. You have no idea what you are talking about. Your trial was piddly and I would be able to "top it." I would not be so ignorant to say that my trial is the worst thing that a person can experience but I would certainly say there are days where I am surprised I am still breathing.
There are somethings that will never go away. Some things that will never get better. I am in the middle of trying to figure out how to function everyday without losing my mind to grief.
For example, I wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares of the experience I went through. The nurse's face sits in my memory as she desperately searches for a heartbeat. The look on my Papa's face as he runs into the assessment room and hears the OB say "I am sorry your baby has passed away." Having to go through labor knowing that there will not be any reward for all the pain. Asking my husband if I am going to die too because I am bleeding internally and seeing the look on his face. Telling my father as he is driving to pick up my daughter that 'the baby is dead."
Leaving my perfect baby at the hospital wrapped up in a plain white blanket because his pretty one is not allowed in the morgue. Watching him being lowered into the earth and thinking "I worked 9 months for that little person and now I don't even get to know him." Watching other women have babies that live and feeling crippling jealousy and resentment towards them and their baby for living.
Now I am scared to death of living through those experiences again. How do you find joy in pregnancy when you know the worst that can happen. How do you attach to a new baby who will not be your lost baby? How do you allow yourself to celebrate someone new without feeling crushing guilt that your other baby is dead. How do you have hope for a future that will never be what you had planned?
I walked on the moon
I never want to go back
Dinner table at a restaurant, there is a group of acquaintances. Some know each other better than others. There is one slightly obnoxious individual who for whatever reason dominates the conversation. He talks about himself and if anyone brings up anything he "tops them" with his own more interesting or crazy experience. At this table unbeknownst to the "topper" is Neil Armstrong. As the table begins to tire of the incessant blabber of the guy who cannot quit talking about himself Neil says in a quiet voice, " I walked on the moon."
That shut the "topper" up.
Sometimes people blabber about their trials or crappy experiences and bear testimony about how "we are not tried beyond our ability." My inward response is usually. You have no idea what you are talking about. Your trial was piddly and I would be able to "top it." I would not be so ignorant to say that my trial is the worst thing that a person can experience but I would certainly say there are days where I am surprised I am still breathing.
There are somethings that will never go away. Some things that will never get better. I am in the middle of trying to figure out how to function everyday without losing my mind to grief.
For example, I wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares of the experience I went through. The nurse's face sits in my memory as she desperately searches for a heartbeat. The look on my Papa's face as he runs into the assessment room and hears the OB say "I am sorry your baby has passed away." Having to go through labor knowing that there will not be any reward for all the pain. Asking my husband if I am going to die too because I am bleeding internally and seeing the look on his face. Telling my father as he is driving to pick up my daughter that 'the baby is dead."
Leaving my perfect baby at the hospital wrapped up in a plain white blanket because his pretty one is not allowed in the morgue. Watching him being lowered into the earth and thinking "I worked 9 months for that little person and now I don't even get to know him." Watching other women have babies that live and feeling crippling jealousy and resentment towards them and their baby for living.
Now I am scared to death of living through those experiences again. How do you find joy in pregnancy when you know the worst that can happen. How do you attach to a new baby who will not be your lost baby? How do you allow yourself to celebrate someone new without feeling crushing guilt that your other baby is dead. How do you have hope for a future that will never be what you had planned?
I walked on the moon
I never want to go back
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Things I wish we had done
There are some days that where my baby is in my thoughts more than others. I can't remember the last time I cried hard. Today it happened twice.
I was eating pizza with Anne and Steve. There was one piece left and I thought "well if baby Steve were here he would have ate that one and I would not have to throw it away." Then I cried.
I was also watching Anne play outside today in the snow. She fell into the snow twice and then I put her mitts on. I was thinking my baby Steve was born and went to the morgue and then to a blue silk box. He never felt grass, dirt, sand, carpet, snow, wind, rain...
This may sound weird but I wish I could have taken his body home for one day to show him where he was going to live. Where he would have slept, played and grown up. But he had to go to the morgue.
I would not let them do an autopsy of his tiny body because I could not bear for it to be defiled in anyway. Even in death I was trying to protect him. He was so cute. Most people will never see a stillborn baby. Baby Steve looked just like a sleeping newborn except his color was bluer than it should have been.
If you know anyone whose baby has died - tell them to get plaster casts of the babe's feet and hands. I only have prints. Tell them to cuddle the babe as long as possible and take tonnes of photos. Take photos with the parents and siblings. We did not take photos with Anne and her brother. I wish we had.
If you don't take the photos you will forget what they looked like. I can't look at the photos very often but I am glad I have them because they prove he was real and that he lived. Tell them to go to counseling and grief groups. It is a small comfort to know that you are not alone, other have lost babes too and they are surviving.
I have more money than I need but I cannot use it to get what I want. It is a strange cruel irony. Maybe one day people will be able to clone their children who die... although there is a huge set of ethical dilemmas that go along with that. I would just want to see him grow up.
8 months really is not very long at all.
I was eating pizza with Anne and Steve. There was one piece left and I thought "well if baby Steve were here he would have ate that one and I would not have to throw it away." Then I cried.
I was also watching Anne play outside today in the snow. She fell into the snow twice and then I put her mitts on. I was thinking my baby Steve was born and went to the morgue and then to a blue silk box. He never felt grass, dirt, sand, carpet, snow, wind, rain...
This may sound weird but I wish I could have taken his body home for one day to show him where he was going to live. Where he would have slept, played and grown up. But he had to go to the morgue.
I would not let them do an autopsy of his tiny body because I could not bear for it to be defiled in anyway. Even in death I was trying to protect him. He was so cute. Most people will never see a stillborn baby. Baby Steve looked just like a sleeping newborn except his color was bluer than it should have been.
If you know anyone whose baby has died - tell them to get plaster casts of the babe's feet and hands. I only have prints. Tell them to cuddle the babe as long as possible and take tonnes of photos. Take photos with the parents and siblings. We did not take photos with Anne and her brother. I wish we had.
If you don't take the photos you will forget what they looked like. I can't look at the photos very often but I am glad I have them because they prove he was real and that he lived. Tell them to go to counseling and grief groups. It is a small comfort to know that you are not alone, other have lost babes too and they are surviving.
I have more money than I need but I cannot use it to get what I want. It is a strange cruel irony. Maybe one day people will be able to clone their children who die... although there is a huge set of ethical dilemmas that go along with that. I would just want to see him grow up.
8 months really is not very long at all.
8months
Today is the 8th month anniversary of my son. I have almost been without him as long as he was with me.
There was a girl who posted an announcement of her pregnancy on facebook today. She had this really cute picture of her family on a basketball court each wearing a jersey with their age on the back. There were four of them. Sitting on the pavement next to them was a ball with baby sneakers balanced on top. The caption stated the "Team" was expecting their 5th member in Sept 2012.
I wish I could have the carefree joy that comes with pregnancy again. But I will never have it back. When your baby dies inside of you - you are no longer safe. Pregnancy represents fear. Potential grief, loss, broken dreams. I wish that their were guarantees but there isn't. You can do everything right and sometimes it does not matter.
I HATE my loss. I HATE how cynical I feel about families growing. I think to myself on my bad days that if there were any justice in this world I would have ten kids by now. Well maybe three anyway.
Sorry there is not a whole lot of congruency in my thoughts today. I just wanted to acknowledge my lost baby. I miss you. Love Mum
There was a girl who posted an announcement of her pregnancy on facebook today. She had this really cute picture of her family on a basketball court each wearing a jersey with their age on the back. There were four of them. Sitting on the pavement next to them was a ball with baby sneakers balanced on top. The caption stated the "Team" was expecting their 5th member in Sept 2012.
I wish I could have the carefree joy that comes with pregnancy again. But I will never have it back. When your baby dies inside of you - you are no longer safe. Pregnancy represents fear. Potential grief, loss, broken dreams. I wish that their were guarantees but there isn't. You can do everything right and sometimes it does not matter.
I HATE my loss. I HATE how cynical I feel about families growing. I think to myself on my bad days that if there were any justice in this world I would have ten kids by now. Well maybe three anyway.
Sorry there is not a whole lot of congruency in my thoughts today. I just wanted to acknowledge my lost baby. I miss you. Love Mum
Sunday, 12 February 2012
hard days
My grief counselor says that grief has to be felt. If it is pushed away it will come back in the future. I have heard of other people experiencing this phenomenon. I have tried the best I can to listen to my heart and grief as hard and loud as i can so that I don't have to go through any unnecessary grief in the future.
One of my favorite people had her third baby on Feb 8, 2012. I wanted to go and see this baby so badly. Partially to support my friend, partially so I could give myself the opportunity to see joy associated with child birth again. So I did. I had a huge emotional build up to entering the hospital. I kept thinking about the last time I was on Unit 25 and the events that led up to losing my baby.
I think that I did okay. i tried not to over think things and just focus on the beautiful babe in my arms.
I think I experienced an emotional hangover of sorts through the next few days though. I struggled with the fact that pregnancy fails sometimes but most of the time it does not. I am so happy for the baby's mom. I expected to be jealous but because the mom has been so supportive to me I felt no jealousy. I only felt sad and whimsical about what could have been for me and my little family.
One of my favorite people had her third baby on Feb 8, 2012. I wanted to go and see this baby so badly. Partially to support my friend, partially so I could give myself the opportunity to see joy associated with child birth again. So I did. I had a huge emotional build up to entering the hospital. I kept thinking about the last time I was on Unit 25 and the events that led up to losing my baby.
I think that I did okay. i tried not to over think things and just focus on the beautiful babe in my arms.
I think I experienced an emotional hangover of sorts through the next few days though. I struggled with the fact that pregnancy fails sometimes but most of the time it does not. I am so happy for the baby's mom. I expected to be jealous but because the mom has been so supportive to me I felt no jealousy. I only felt sad and whimsical about what could have been for me and my little family.
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
head stones
I tried to get a headstone for my son right away. I was not ready at all and I ended up firing my headstone guy because he said some stupid things.
Yesterday I went again to a different place that sells grave markers. I went by myself and told them exactly what I wanted. I had to go get a comfort drink after.
She sent me the proof today and it is perfect.
I NEVER want to do this again. I never want to buy a tombstone for a child.
I know I am getting better because I can feel happiness and hope coming back into my thoughts. But when I have to acknowledge his death all of the sadness floods back. I know I am getting stronger because I am not debilitated for as long. But the force of the sadness slamming into my heart is just as intense as ever -even if it does not last as long.
Yesterday I went again to a different place that sells grave markers. I went by myself and told them exactly what I wanted. I had to go get a comfort drink after.
She sent me the proof today and it is perfect.
I NEVER want to do this again. I never want to buy a tombstone for a child.
I know I am getting better because I can feel happiness and hope coming back into my thoughts. But when I have to acknowledge his death all of the sadness floods back. I know I am getting stronger because I am not debilitated for as long. But the force of the sadness slamming into my heart is just as intense as ever -even if it does not last as long.
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Get what you deserve?
I was thinking about my past clients today. If you don't know I used to work in child welfare. I was an investigator and a caseworker. I apprehended children, managed their files while they were in care and tried the best I could to return them to their families. A lot of families pulled together and got counseling, went to rehab, anger management etc. Some did not and their children either stayed in care and were adopted or went to extended family. When I worked I was able to put a degree of separation between me and the children. The children were innocent, often cute but sometimes had scarey behaviors because of what they had lived through.
I had one client who had 4 children while I was involved with her. I took two of them away from her as newborns. She had FASD and used crack and alcohol during her pregnancies. All of her babies lived. All were diagnosed with FASD and one has to be fed through a G-tube (hole in his stomach).
At the time, like I said before, I was able to separate my feelings. Today I am struggling with the injustice of my situation (although it is getting better). I am not God and I am not allowed to judge others but I have residual anger, frustration, annoyance and sadness about what has happened to me, when others who seem to have made poor choices have babies who live.
My baby that I did the best I could to look after died during labor. I put in the time (a whole 9 month pregnancy). I took my vitamins, I stood far away from the microwave, avoided sushi and everything else that people say you should or should not do I tried to follow.
I don't get it. If there is someone up there deciding where spirits should go their choices baffle me.
I had one client who had 4 children while I was involved with her. I took two of them away from her as newborns. She had FASD and used crack and alcohol during her pregnancies. All of her babies lived. All were diagnosed with FASD and one has to be fed through a G-tube (hole in his stomach).
At the time, like I said before, I was able to separate my feelings. Today I am struggling with the injustice of my situation (although it is getting better). I am not God and I am not allowed to judge others but I have residual anger, frustration, annoyance and sadness about what has happened to me, when others who seem to have made poor choices have babies who live.
My baby that I did the best I could to look after died during labor. I put in the time (a whole 9 month pregnancy). I took my vitamins, I stood far away from the microwave, avoided sushi and everything else that people say you should or should not do I tried to follow.
I don't get it. If there is someone up there deciding where spirits should go their choices baffle me.
Sunday, 1 January 2012
tired of...
I am tired of feeling sad
I am tired at people saying "i can even imagine..."
I am tired of trying to stay positive
I am tired of disappointment - over and over again
How many times does a fly bounce against a window trying to get out?
Before it gives up?
Grief feels like that.
Maybe it will be better "this time"
Maybe it will be easier "this time"
Maybe it won't be so heartbreaking "this time"
I just spent an awesome weekend with my husband's sister's family. Their son was baptized and there was a wonderful feeling present.
I had to leave though for a little while because my brother in law's brother's 5 month old baby girl was there. She seemed to be everywhere I was. I would try to go away to another part of the house and who ever was carrying her had to come and be near me. I felt like telling the person holding her (which happened to be different each time) to go away. Leave me alone. Don't you get that seeing that little baby hurts me? Don't you get that I want to be holding my little dead baby right now? Don't you get that I put in 9 months of time, labour and delivery, morning sickness, sleepless nights, increased stretch marks, engorged painful breasts and I have to sit here and wonder "why is that baby alive when mine is dead?"
And what would my baby look like right now? Well he is decomposing 6 feet underground right now. He should be fat and cute and drooling, pooping, peeing, crying but he is dead and probably just a skeleton by now.
So now you know how I feel today. Hopefully tomorrow is better.
I am tired at people saying "i can even imagine..."
I am tired of trying to stay positive
I am tired of disappointment - over and over again
How many times does a fly bounce against a window trying to get out?
Before it gives up?
Grief feels like that.
Maybe it will be better "this time"
Maybe it will be easier "this time"
Maybe it won't be so heartbreaking "this time"
I just spent an awesome weekend with my husband's sister's family. Their son was baptized and there was a wonderful feeling present.
I had to leave though for a little while because my brother in law's brother's 5 month old baby girl was there. She seemed to be everywhere I was. I would try to go away to another part of the house and who ever was carrying her had to come and be near me. I felt like telling the person holding her (which happened to be different each time) to go away. Leave me alone. Don't you get that seeing that little baby hurts me? Don't you get that I want to be holding my little dead baby right now? Don't you get that I put in 9 months of time, labour and delivery, morning sickness, sleepless nights, increased stretch marks, engorged painful breasts and I have to sit here and wonder "why is that baby alive when mine is dead?"
And what would my baby look like right now? Well he is decomposing 6 feet underground right now. He should be fat and cute and drooling, pooping, peeing, crying but he is dead and probably just a skeleton by now.
So now you know how I feel today. Hopefully tomorrow is better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)