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
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
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.
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