Today I am 9 weeks and 5 days pregnant again. I am in my 5th pregnancy. Being pregnant again brings to the surface thoughts about the second and fourth times I was pregnant. The second time of course resulting in a beautiful baby boy who was born dead at 39 weeks 3 days gestation and my fourth time an early miscarriage between 5 and 6 weeks. Miscarriage is funny. It doesn't have the same tragedy as stillbirth associated with it for a lot of reasons. However it still hurt.
So now what?
I have had one ultrasound with this pregnancy so far (6 weeks, 4 days). I was diagnosed with subchorionic hematonias. Basically there are two blood clots on either side of the embryonic sac. I am on "pelvic rest." Sorry Steve. I am supposed to take it easy and try not to lift too much etc. I know that SCH increases risk of miscarriage but there really is no way to treat them. My dr said hopefully they will be reabsorbed. The concern is that they can start to bleed and result in my uterus cramping and then miscarrying the little being in there.
I will have another ultrasound around 12 weeks to check in. I am hoping the clots are gone. I am hoping the baby is alive and lively.
I never thought I would have this kind of trouble with pregnancy. I guess no one does.
Thursday, 6 March 2014
Unsettled
I have been feeling pretty settled for quite awhile, however the last couple of days have lead to building feelings that I am feeling compelled to express.
Currently Spencer is 14 months. He is running. I could not ask for a better baby. He is cuddly and coy, curious and tenacious. He is his Daddy's biggest fan but always comes looking for me :)
And Anne - Anne is fabulous! She is learning so much in pre-K... She actually listens and follows directions now :) She is such a little sponge. Our relationship has become stronger and closer too, now that Spencer is a little more independent.
SO what is my problem? What could possibly be troubling me if things going so well?
Well...
On Nov 3 I had a positive pregnancy test. WHAT?!?
Yes I know crazy right? No fertility drugs!
Steve and I were in Banff together (kids were at grandmums) when we found out. The whole way home we talked about how amazing the timing was. We would be due in July 2014 and we could go to a family wedding in Vancouver in August. Perfect! Spencer would be almost 2 years old! What a nice age gap - almost as good as the 19 months apart Anne and Baby Steve would have been.
And then something happened.
On Nov 6 I started bleeding. I did not stop.
More and more.
Great.
I did my blood work
I had an ultrasound on Nov 8.
Both confirmed that I was in the middle of an early misscarriage.
Really? Hmm well that sucks.
It is not nearly as hard to grieve a pregnancy that I only knew about for 3 days. Not like baby Steve.
So about a week later I felt settled. I felt okay. Not totally awesome but okay.
Anyway now I am thinking about a baby. A baby - another pregnancy. Am I really ready for that? Do I really want to jump on that fertility roller coaster again - what if I lose another one? I have had 4 confirmed positive pregnancies. I have two living babies...now what?
Currently Spencer is 14 months. He is running. I could not ask for a better baby. He is cuddly and coy, curious and tenacious. He is his Daddy's biggest fan but always comes looking for me :)
And Anne - Anne is fabulous! She is learning so much in pre-K... She actually listens and follows directions now :) She is such a little sponge. Our relationship has become stronger and closer too, now that Spencer is a little more independent.
SO what is my problem? What could possibly be troubling me if things going so well?
Well...
On Nov 3 I had a positive pregnancy test. WHAT?!?
Yes I know crazy right? No fertility drugs!
Steve and I were in Banff together (kids were at grandmums) when we found out. The whole way home we talked about how amazing the timing was. We would be due in July 2014 and we could go to a family wedding in Vancouver in August. Perfect! Spencer would be almost 2 years old! What a nice age gap - almost as good as the 19 months apart Anne and Baby Steve would have been.
And then something happened.
On Nov 6 I started bleeding. I did not stop.
More and more.
Great.
I did my blood work
I had an ultrasound on Nov 8.
Both confirmed that I was in the middle of an early misscarriage.
Really? Hmm well that sucks.
It is not nearly as hard to grieve a pregnancy that I only knew about for 3 days. Not like baby Steve.
So about a week later I felt settled. I felt okay. Not totally awesome but okay.
Anyway now I am thinking about a baby. A baby - another pregnancy. Am I really ready for that? Do I really want to jump on that fertility roller coaster again - what if I lose another one? I have had 4 confirmed positive pregnancies. I have two living babies...now what?
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
considering the silence
I have posts that hit my facebook wall that question the silence in society around stillbirth.
Right after my baby Steve died all I could think about was him, the pregnancy, my loss, over and over. For almost a year I would process the loss in my head. It took a very very very long time to stop the cycle. I would wake up in the morning and start the grieving process. I would often have to write my feelings down, or cry, or talk to an understanding person before I could move on with the day. Then there were triggers - everywhere!
Babies born alive, boy babies, casual things said in everyday conversation. It was ridiculous how sensitive grief makes a person. Not BAD just so crazy sensitive. I would say that grief changes mental health. Anyway -
Eventually there were less triggers. Eventually I felt less of a need to talk about him and grief and stillbirth. I felt the desire to be happy and to be normal again. I worked through my grief. My blog is a testament to that work. The grief work was hard but worth it. I feel mostly normal now (21 months later).
SO back to the initial question. "WHY does no one talk about stillbirth?"
Well strictly based on my own experience- BECAUSE it hurts.
It hurts like nothing else.
I can mention it (stillbirth, baby steve) or answer questions but I will pay for the conversation later. I would say it (grief/sadness for baby steve) is like a crippling scab. It never fully heals. When I say I will pay for it later I mean that I will have to grieve my baby again. Its like picking at a scab a little to much and it starts to bleed or exposes the sensitive skin underneath (or in my case the overwhelming sadness). Inevitably I will carry the sadness with me after a conversation about baby Steve and have to process it.
Processing it now looks like asking myself the questions:
- what would my baby Steve look like now?
- how would he fit in our family
- would I have Spencer?
- what milestones would he be at?
- what would I be like as a mom had he lived?
- how would my relationship with my husband be different?
- would I have done anything different had I been prepared for his dealth?
- would it have hurt any more had he lived for a little while longer then died?
And millions of other little questions that will never be answered.
There are other reasons that are not as important to me for not to talk about stillbirth.
- I feel like bad luck around pregnant moms
- I don't like making others feel like they have to other some "helpful" advice
- I hate "at least" statements ie. "at least it was not your first," "at least you know that you will be able to raise him after you die" etc. etc.
So I guess I should break the silence around stillbirth for the sake of those who are still in their heavy grief. I guess I can manage a little bit of pain so others in the first months of excruciating pain will have their loads lightened slightley.
My only advice is that when talking to bereaved parents of stillborn babies is let them lead. Take their cues. Everyone is different. Maybe in 20 years it won't hurt at all. Maybe then I can break the silence around stillbirth and not suffer the consequence of resurfacing pain each time I speak my dead baby's name.
Right after my baby Steve died all I could think about was him, the pregnancy, my loss, over and over. For almost a year I would process the loss in my head. It took a very very very long time to stop the cycle. I would wake up in the morning and start the grieving process. I would often have to write my feelings down, or cry, or talk to an understanding person before I could move on with the day. Then there were triggers - everywhere!
Babies born alive, boy babies, casual things said in everyday conversation. It was ridiculous how sensitive grief makes a person. Not BAD just so crazy sensitive. I would say that grief changes mental health. Anyway -
Eventually there were less triggers. Eventually I felt less of a need to talk about him and grief and stillbirth. I felt the desire to be happy and to be normal again. I worked through my grief. My blog is a testament to that work. The grief work was hard but worth it. I feel mostly normal now (21 months later).
SO back to the initial question. "WHY does no one talk about stillbirth?"
Well strictly based on my own experience- BECAUSE it hurts.
It hurts like nothing else.
I can mention it (stillbirth, baby steve) or answer questions but I will pay for the conversation later. I would say it (grief/sadness for baby steve) is like a crippling scab. It never fully heals. When I say I will pay for it later I mean that I will have to grieve my baby again. Its like picking at a scab a little to much and it starts to bleed or exposes the sensitive skin underneath (or in my case the overwhelming sadness). Inevitably I will carry the sadness with me after a conversation about baby Steve and have to process it.
Processing it now looks like asking myself the questions:
- what would my baby Steve look like now?
- how would he fit in our family
- would I have Spencer?
- what milestones would he be at?
- what would I be like as a mom had he lived?
- how would my relationship with my husband be different?
- would I have done anything different had I been prepared for his dealth?
- would it have hurt any more had he lived for a little while longer then died?
And millions of other little questions that will never be answered.
There are other reasons that are not as important to me for not to talk about stillbirth.
- I feel like bad luck around pregnant moms
- I don't like making others feel like they have to other some "helpful" advice
- I hate "at least" statements ie. "at least it was not your first," "at least you know that you will be able to raise him after you die" etc. etc.
So I guess I should break the silence around stillbirth for the sake of those who are still in their heavy grief. I guess I can manage a little bit of pain so others in the first months of excruciating pain will have their loads lightened slightley.
My only advice is that when talking to bereaved parents of stillborn babies is let them lead. Take their cues. Everyone is different. Maybe in 20 years it won't hurt at all. Maybe then I can break the silence around stillbirth and not suffer the consequence of resurfacing pain each time I speak my dead baby's name.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
Finding myself again
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.
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.
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.
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