As soon as I heard my OB's tone, I knew it wasn't good news.
I think I hit the floor before I finished hanging up the call.
It was 3:15 in the afternoon on a Monday and someone was telling me that I would lose my baby.
It just didn't seem fair.
But life is not fair.
Life just is.
I had tried to steel myself for bad news, because as soon as I had started spotting, I KNEW.
I didn't want to believe it, but I knew.
This was not my first time at the rodeo...
Everyone sent me such encouraging anecdotes and shared personal stories of spotting while pregnant that I wrapped myself up in them and prayed that they would be enough to stop what I felt coming.
I pictured what it would be like to have another child in the house.
What O would be like as a big brother.
The 4 of us as a family.
It was too early to get so excited, to plan, but I guess I hoped that might keep the bad at bay...
But as these things do, it came anyway.
And I shut down.
I crawled into bed and didn't get out for over a week.
Didn't answer my phone, or check my email.
I didn't want to see anyone, talk to anyone, or do anything.
I just laid in bed.
Sometimes sleeping, sometimes crying, sometimes just staring at the walls.
I felt completely empty.
I kept trying to get angry, so that at least I could feel something other than the overwhelmingly sad emptiness, but there wasn't anything/anyone to be angry with.
It wasn't my fault, or anyone elses'.
I could get angry at G-d, but even that seemed useless.
As I'm not even sure there is a G-d, it seemed silly to direct anger that way.
Besides, if there is one, and I actually hope there is, I doubt he gets his jollies from ripping children away from my womb....
Just a theory.
I think this miscarriage was harder than the other two because I have O.
You would think that having a child would soften the blow, but for me, that made it all the more intense...
Because I know what it's like now.
To feel that child grow to full-term.
To birth that child.
To hold him.
To watch him grow.
I didn't have the knowledge/gift of that the first two times.
Now I do.
So the hurt is deeper.
Because I could see the life of this child unfold in my mind's eye.
I could feel her tiny little hands in mine.
(in all my dreams, the baby was always a girl)
Instead, she is gone...or to some, never was.
Eventually the sorrow gave way to guilt.
Guilt for being a bad wife.
Guilt for being a neglectful mother.
Guilt for being a selfish woman.
My husband had lost something too, yet I couldn't move to comfort him.
My son needed his mommy, but after a couple hours with him, I had to retreat back to my tears.
There are women out there who've yet to conceive, those who've had stillbirths, who've buried their infants--
Who am I to wallow in pain?
I should be grateful, right?
I am, and I'm not, I suppose....
I am eternally gratefully for my son.
But I want another child, desperately.
My husband has told me every day since we lost:
We will try again, We will have another baby.
Will we? Can we? I hope so. I have to hope.
I keep hanging on to that.
But I keep asking myself:
Is it wrong? Shouldn't I just be grateful to have one? Shouldn't one be enough?
Sigh.
At this moment, it's not.
I am grieving for the loss of not just this child, but of the others before it.
3 children I will never get to hold.
I cling to the fact that I am blessed to be a part of a little family of 3...
but still I'm yearning to become 4.
Thank you to all of you who called/texted/messaged/tweeted me, and even went the extra step and called the Huz. You guys are so genuinely lovely and compassionate. I am so appreciative and lucky to have each of you. Your words of love, understanding and encouragement helped me to feel less alone.
Thank you to my husband who knew I needed to retreat for awhile and never made me feel bad for it. Thank you for holding me up and keeping me out of complete darkness. You are such a good man/father, and I am lucky to have you.
Thank you to my in-laws, who are like true parents to me.
As for the days ahead, I have no idea....
Some days I feel good, and other days I want to crawl back into my hole.
There has been an issue this entire time with my hormone levels rising rather than dropping, so I keep having to go into my OB's office for blood draws every couple of days to monitor the situation.
He's really trying to avoid doing a D and C, which I agree with, but walking into his office is torture. It digs at the wound a little bit more each time.
The bleeding doesn't help either. Each trip to the restroom is another glaring reminder of what ISN'T.
My levels have finally started going down, so hopefully today was the last blood draw. If the results come back not at zero, they'll schedule the D and C.
In the meantime, I'm trying to keep my focus on getting back on track with just day-to day life.
Which has mostly involved a lot of cleaning and laundry, and oddly, paperwork.
(That and the 2 hrs it took to go through my 3 email inboxes...)
My husband is a beautifully loving and compassionate man...
But he is a shit housekeeper.
Piles of laundry, trash, toys, mail, bills, Oh, MY.
It was a HOT MESS up in our living space.
I don't know how things can get so out of control in 2 weeks, but they can....let me tell you, they CAN.
Normally, I would have been majorly pissed, but it gave me something to do, you know?
Thankfully for his sake and my sanity, things are finally back to normal, and clean.
Although, I can still feel that empty space that grows a tiny bit bigger each time...
That piece of silent space that will stay with me always.
...and never fails to hurt whenever I stumble into it.
Showing posts with label Loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Loss. Show all posts
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
I Could have been...No, I AM.
Mother's Day has always been tough for me....
As a kid, I always hoped that Mother's day would be the day that my mom would see how much I loved her, and then she would like me.
Sometimes, briefly, I seemed to be successful, but it never lasted.
It was never enough.
As soon as I came of the age where I saw children in my future, Mother's Day was filled with anticipation...
Someday, I will be a mother.
Someday, I will treasure mementos of my own.
Someday, my children will know I like them.
After my first miscarriage, Mother's Day was just a reminder of nightmares.
I never really talked about it, because it was something that for a long time, I didn't share...
Alone in grief that even those closest to me didn't understand.
In 2006, when I had another miscarriage, I lost hope.
I could have been a mother, but I never would be.
The following Mother's Days were filled with tears and feeling of uselessness.
A mother without children, that was me.
When I got pregnant with O, I was terrified. At my first ultrasound, I was told that the pregnancy would probably not be viable.
Bereft didn't begin to cover it....
But I KNEW he was there.
We were going to have this baby.
I would not lose another...
(as if I have that kind of control, but hormones make you cuhraaaazzzy)
Two weeks later, at a follow-up appt., he showed up as strong as could be!
Mother's Day 2009 was amazing.
My husband showered me with gifts and affection.
Friends sent notes...
My Mother's Days had finally began!
Then someone laughed at me and said:
You're not a Mother yet! Next year, you can celebrate Mother's Day!
An unintentionally cruel blow...
Not a mother? But I've waited so long!
I found myself thinking about that comment as I woke up this last Sunday to celebrate with my boys...
It found myself all unsettled by that comment once again.
Why should it EVEN MATTER now?
Wait a FUCKING MINUTE.
I was a Mother, thank you.
There was a child growing in my belly that I loved more than life itself.
I was that child's Mother.
I would learn to be a Parent, but was already a Mother.
Which made me realize that all of the years I had spent passing each M Day, mourning my miscarriages, saying:
I could have been a Mother...
I already was.
Each pregnancy, to me, was a child I lost.
Even though our time together was short,
There were children growing in my belly that I loved more than life itself.
I was each child's Mother.
I never got to be their parent, but I was already their Mother.
That has helped me.
Helped me to feel less weak and foolish in my grief.
It has made the Mother's Days with my son all the more meaningful.
I've had two Mother's Days with my beautiful son.
And six others, with the children I lost before that.
Those days matter.
I was a mother.
I am a Mother.
I hope all my fellow Mamas got the love, support and Respect they so deserved this Mother's Day.
My day was lovely.
As a kid, I always hoped that Mother's day would be the day that my mom would see how much I loved her, and then she would like me.
Sometimes, briefly, I seemed to be successful, but it never lasted.
It was never enough.
As soon as I came of the age where I saw children in my future, Mother's Day was filled with anticipation...
Someday, I will be a mother.
Someday, I will treasure mementos of my own.
Someday, my children will know I like them.
After my first miscarriage, Mother's Day was just a reminder of nightmares.
I never really talked about it, because it was something that for a long time, I didn't share...
Alone in grief that even those closest to me didn't understand.
In 2006, when I had another miscarriage, I lost hope.
I could have been a mother, but I never would be.
The following Mother's Days were filled with tears and feeling of uselessness.
A mother without children, that was me.
When I got pregnant with O, I was terrified. At my first ultrasound, I was told that the pregnancy would probably not be viable.
Bereft didn't begin to cover it....
But I KNEW he was there.
We were going to have this baby.
I would not lose another...
(as if I have that kind of control, but hormones make you cuhraaaazzzy)
Two weeks later, at a follow-up appt., he showed up as strong as could be!
Mother's Day 2009 was amazing.
My husband showered me with gifts and affection.
Friends sent notes...
My Mother's Days had finally began!
Then someone laughed at me and said:
You're not a Mother yet! Next year, you can celebrate Mother's Day!
An unintentionally cruel blow...
Not a mother? But I've waited so long!
I found myself thinking about that comment as I woke up this last Sunday to celebrate with my boys...
It found myself all unsettled by that comment once again.
Why should it EVEN MATTER now?
Wait a FUCKING MINUTE.
I was a Mother, thank you.
There was a child growing in my belly that I loved more than life itself.
I was that child's Mother.
I would learn to be a Parent, but was already a Mother.
Which made me realize that all of the years I had spent passing each M Day, mourning my miscarriages, saying:
I could have been a Mother...
I already was.
Each pregnancy, to me, was a child I lost.
Even though our time together was short,
There were children growing in my belly that I loved more than life itself.
I was each child's Mother.
I never got to be their parent, but I was already their Mother.
That has helped me.
Helped me to feel less weak and foolish in my grief.
It has made the Mother's Days with my son all the more meaningful.
I've had two Mother's Days with my beautiful son.
And six others, with the children I lost before that.
Those days matter.
I was a mother.
I am a Mother.
I hope all my fellow Mamas got the love, support and Respect they so deserved this Mother's Day.
My day was lovely.
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| My beautiful Bubu! |
 |
| How CUTE is the Huz? |
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| He said NAY! to smiling... |
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| Happy-faced Mama. p://th  |
Monday, March 14, 2011
I cannot fathom. I do not want to.
How do you get back up, after losing a child?
How do you re-enter life?
I have lost before, and it was crushing. It has lingered and stayed with me.
But this?*
{She is gone from this world, now.
Her parents but her to bed last night, singing lullabies and giving kisses they knew would be their last.}
I cannot comprehend.
I am sobbing for that family.
Heartbroken.
For her parents.
For a life cut so short.
For my own fears and worst nightmares, that came true for someone else.
How will they survive this?
I don't think I could.
Peace and Joy for you, Sweet Girl. I hope that is what you have found.
Love and Comfort and Strength, to all who knew her, loved her. I hope that is what you have.
My thoughts, my love--with you all.
*I got to know Maddie's story through a good friend of mine. She is good friends with the parents. I wish I could hug her AND them today.
How do you re-enter life?
I have lost before, and it was crushing. It has lingered and stayed with me.
But this?*
{She is gone from this world, now.
Her parents but her to bed last night, singing lullabies and giving kisses they knew would be their last.}
I cannot comprehend.
I am sobbing for that family.
Heartbroken.
For her parents.
For a life cut so short.
For my own fears and worst nightmares, that came true for someone else.
How will they survive this?
I don't think I could.
Peace and Joy for you, Sweet Girl. I hope that is what you have found.
Love and Comfort and Strength, to all who knew her, loved her. I hope that is what you have.
My thoughts, my love--with you all.
*I got to know Maddie's story through a good friend of mine. She is good friends with the parents. I wish I could hug her AND them today.
Friday, October 22, 2010
I just checked on my son...
Asleep. So sweet and innocent.
I love him. To the point where it's often hard to breathe- because the sheer enormity of the love I have for him feels like it might overwhelm me...
He is what I have dreamed of.
He is what I have lost...
and found again.
Tomorrow is his first birthday party. His actual birthday is Thursday.
I can't believe we've already come to the year-mark.
It feels like yesterday-yet, since the beginning of time?
It's been quite the journey....
Tonight as I brushed his hair from his forehead, I was reminded of this:
For my Child-Whom I shall never meet.
Breathe.
Watching you sleep puts the world
In perspective
There is peace
(however fleeting)
Cynicism has no place
Where you dream
I will lie beside you
And find
myself.
(December 17th 2003)
It is strangely just as true now as I wanted it to be then.
Which is oddly comforting.
Goodnight, my Darlings.
I love him. To the point where it's often hard to breathe- because the sheer enormity of the love I have for him feels like it might overwhelm me...
He is what I have dreamed of.
He is what I have lost...
and found again.
Tomorrow is his first birthday party. His actual birthday is Thursday.
I can't believe we've already come to the year-mark.
It feels like yesterday-yet, since the beginning of time?
It's been quite the journey....
Tonight as I brushed his hair from his forehead, I was reminded of this:
For my Child-Whom I shall never meet.
Breathe.
Watching you sleep puts the world
In perspective
There is peace
(however fleeting)
Cynicism has no place
Where you dream
I will lie beside you
And find
myself.
(December 17th 2003)
It is strangely just as true now as I wanted it to be then.
Which is oddly comforting.
Goodnight, my Darlings.
Friday, October 15, 2010
You kinda never forget.
Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.
So many people in my life have lost a child(ren), through miscarriage, SIDS, and stillbirth, and it's so important to remember those losses and honor those children.
I know that it's not a comfortable subject for a lot of people, but it's a real one that families (especially the mothers) deal with every day.
No matter what others may believe, no matter how early (or late) the loss was, to the mother, he/she was a baby.
Their baby.
But because the people in their lives often want them to move on and (with the best intentions) forget, it is a pain that gets bottled up for fear of upsetting others.
If you know someone who has suffered this loss, send them some love.
If you've lost, my heart is with you.
My first child would have been born on March 9th, 2004
We said good bye at 12 weeks.
My second child would have been born on April 16th, 2007
We said good bye at 6 weeks.
They would have been six and a half and three and a half.
I never really got to know them, but I love and still miss them.
Every day.
Sometimes it's fleeting, and sometimes it's overwhelming.
My son has served as both a salve and a reminder.
A beautiful thing.
He cannot replace the children I lost (yet he fills my heart with so much joy and gratitude for his gorgeous little face), but he can remind me to never forget the miracles that they were.
In remembrance of those that have lost, please light a candle tonight at 7pm.
So many people in my life have lost a child(ren), through miscarriage, SIDS, and stillbirth, and it's so important to remember those losses and honor those children.
I know that it's not a comfortable subject for a lot of people, but it's a real one that families (especially the mothers) deal with every day.
No matter what others may believe, no matter how early (or late) the loss was, to the mother, he/she was a baby.
Their baby.
But because the people in their lives often want them to move on and (with the best intentions) forget, it is a pain that gets bottled up for fear of upsetting others.
If you know someone who has suffered this loss, send them some love.
If you've lost, my heart is with you.
My first child would have been born on March 9th, 2004
We said good bye at 12 weeks.
My second child would have been born on April 16th, 2007
We said good bye at 6 weeks.
They would have been six and a half and three and a half.
I never really got to know them, but I love and still miss them.
Every day.
Sometimes it's fleeting, and sometimes it's overwhelming.
My son has served as both a salve and a reminder.
A beautiful thing.
He cannot replace the children I lost (yet he fills my heart with so much joy and gratitude for his gorgeous little face), but he can remind me to never forget the miracles that they were.
In remembrance of those that have lost, please light a candle tonight at 7pm.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
A bunch of a lotta things. And then more.
Note: I started this blog yesterday
I try to keep these posts as cohesive as possible, so that I don't ramble like a lunatic, but there's a ton of thoughts and emotions swimming around in the ol' noodle today, So we'll see what happens...
Maybe I'll break this up into two posts. I'm not sure if I can tie everything together.
Anyway-
Life is so freaking unpredictable, fragile, unknown, what-have-you.
I sit here 7 months pregnant, so in love with my son it HURTS.
8 months ago, I was seriously trying to wrap my head around not having children entirely.
Craziness.
A girl I know (I guess I shouldn't say girl, she is only 4 or 5 years younger than me), just found out that she is pregnant, and has elected to have an abortion. This just absolutely breaks my heart. As liberal as I am, I do not believe in abortion. I don't support banning it either. Politically, that is all I will say.
This is personal to me, and my heart, but do I have the right to say what choices other women should make? No, probably not. That doesn't meant that I don't wish that they would make different ones.
This is technically my third pregnancy. The first one was as the result of a sexual assault. While a lot of people would have totally understood if I decided not to keep it, that was never an option for me. Unfortunately, at a little past 3 months, I miscarried. I was devastated. Years later, it still hurts. The next one, was mercifully lost early rather than later, at about 6-7 weeks, but again, I mourn for that child as well.
Even though they were not even close to term, to me, they were already mine.
There are those who make the distinction between an "embryo" and a "fetus".
I'm not saying that is right or wrong, but for me, there is no such line.
From the moment I found out I was pregnant each time, it was my baby, my child.
I cannot fathom letting any one of them go willfully. Everyday that my that my son grows, the more I am reminded of what I lost, what could have been, and how awe-inspiring this whole process is....
{It was at this point that I had to stop writing last night, because I just LOST IT}
Today:
She's scheduled to have the abortion today. My heart is just sick. I'm not judging her, I just feel so sorry for her. Disappointed that she feels like this is her only or best option.
It's terrifying, being pregnant and alone. There is the instinct to want to make it all go away, but it doesn't. Having never had an abortion, I can't really say that with any absolute authority, but every woman I know that has had one (and sadly, I've known several)has regretted it, and spent the rest of their lives being haunted by it.
I still carry a lot of guilt for the miscarriages, so I can't imagine what it's like to be on that other side.
I hope she changes her mind. Perhaps that is selfishness on my part, but I just can't help but think of all of the people in my life who a desperately trying to have children, and how many more families out there who are trying to adopt, and it just seems so needless.
But life is never simple is it?
She will do what she feels is the right thing, and it's not my call.
And I better just end it here. I'm getting all weepy again.
I try to keep these posts as cohesive as possible, so that I don't ramble like a lunatic, but there's a ton of thoughts and emotions swimming around in the ol' noodle today, So we'll see what happens...
Maybe I'll break this up into two posts. I'm not sure if I can tie everything together.
Anyway-
Life is so freaking unpredictable, fragile, unknown, what-have-you.
I sit here 7 months pregnant, so in love with my son it HURTS.
8 months ago, I was seriously trying to wrap my head around not having children entirely.
Craziness.
A girl I know (I guess I shouldn't say girl, she is only 4 or 5 years younger than me), just found out that she is pregnant, and has elected to have an abortion. This just absolutely breaks my heart. As liberal as I am, I do not believe in abortion. I don't support banning it either. Politically, that is all I will say.
This is personal to me, and my heart, but do I have the right to say what choices other women should make? No, probably not. That doesn't meant that I don't wish that they would make different ones.
This is technically my third pregnancy. The first one was as the result of a sexual assault. While a lot of people would have totally understood if I decided not to keep it, that was never an option for me. Unfortunately, at a little past 3 months, I miscarried. I was devastated. Years later, it still hurts. The next one, was mercifully lost early rather than later, at about 6-7 weeks, but again, I mourn for that child as well.
Even though they were not even close to term, to me, they were already mine.
There are those who make the distinction between an "embryo" and a "fetus".
I'm not saying that is right or wrong, but for me, there is no such line.
From the moment I found out I was pregnant each time, it was my baby, my child.
I cannot fathom letting any one of them go willfully. Everyday that my that my son grows, the more I am reminded of what I lost, what could have been, and how awe-inspiring this whole process is....
{It was at this point that I had to stop writing last night, because I just LOST IT}
Today:
She's scheduled to have the abortion today. My heart is just sick. I'm not judging her, I just feel so sorry for her. Disappointed that she feels like this is her only or best option.
It's terrifying, being pregnant and alone. There is the instinct to want to make it all go away, but it doesn't. Having never had an abortion, I can't really say that with any absolute authority, but every woman I know that has had one (and sadly, I've known several)has regretted it, and spent the rest of their lives being haunted by it.
I still carry a lot of guilt for the miscarriages, so I can't imagine what it's like to be on that other side.
I hope she changes her mind. Perhaps that is selfishness on my part, but I just can't help but think of all of the people in my life who a desperately trying to have children, and how many more families out there who are trying to adopt, and it just seems so needless.
But life is never simple is it?
She will do what she feels is the right thing, and it's not my call.
And I better just end it here. I'm getting all weepy again.
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