When you lose a child (repost from Franchesca)

Many of you have probably already read this, but Franchesca (the babylossmom who made my blog pretty) describes it so well, I thought it was worth reposting here with her permission. (Go see her amazing blog and photography and artwork here: http://smallbirdstudios.com/2012/02/05/when-you-lose-a-baby/

When You Lose a Baby


You don’t know what to expect.
People surround you. For a couple of weeks. Making sure you are not going to kill yourself, refuse to get out of bed, or start rocking a baby doll like the crazy lady they heard about from a friend.
You get lots of sympathy cards, clearly written and designed to be sent to console a daughter losing her father. Not the other way around.
You get free baby formula in the mail. For months and months and months.
And free baby magazines. And free baby coupons.
You secretly envy every pregnant woman. But not without a tinge of guilt, because you know all too well that she might be one in four- expecting her rainbow child.
It seems like the whole world is expecting a baby.
You have baby stuff around your home. Because you never imagined you wouldn’t need it.
You feel jarred. In the grocery store. At a birthday party. At the dinner table. At Christmas. Driving.
The baby you never knew, but lost changes every part of your life. Every. single. part.
Forever.
You see baby clothes and it brings tears to your eyes.
You get sick and tired of crying. You never knew it was possible to cry this much.
You find yourself angry at God. Angry at yourself. Just angry.
You sware you can feel them kick but they’re gone. They call them phantom kicks. I call them painful, all kinds of painful. But sweet too.
You know, or you have a strong feeling of knowing what your child would have looked like, and been like. You see a child in the store, or on the street. Their hair color, dimples, smile, their personality and suddenly you are reminded of your child. You miss your child even more, if that’s even possible.
Your Babies R’ Us Registry is still active. There is no delete button on their site. The babies r’ us people don’t make a dime on people like us. Why bother right? You have to call them, plead with them to remove your freaking’ registry, because there will be no baby shower. There is an awkward silence. There is sadness. There will be no baby.
You get hospital bills about 3-4 months after you buried your child. You have to pay for the baby you delivered but didn’t bring home.
You find that moment of happiness in life for the first time, but the guilt swallows it up almost immediately.
You remember the size of the casket. The size of the plot. The face of the funeral director. The expression of those that attended the funeral. The feeling of raw pain, like your chest has literally been ripped open.
Somehow you convince yourself that you deserve happiness. Because you really do. But in the happiest, purest moment, there is still that hole that only they were meant to fill.
People compare your pain to their own pain. The loss of their grandmother, husband, their failed marriage, rebellious teenagers. Somehow this comparing leaves you stranded. If they can compare their pain of a situation to the loss of your BABY, they will likely never get it. Babies are not supposed to die. End of story.
You lost a dream. And it almost feels like you imagined their entire existence up. Their name becomes a distant memory on the lips of others.
There is awkwardness when you talk about your child in a crowd. No one knows whether to cry, walk away or pretend you never brought him or her up.
You lose friends. You find new ones.
You can’t believe that women have actually survived this and you never knew about it. Not really, anyway.
You would do anything for another minute with your child.
You cry when others bring up your child, not so much because it hurts but more so because it such a precious and rare gift.
You long for the rewind button, even after many many instances of acceptance.
You want to know what went wrong, and why…
You find a new appreciation for moments in life that make you laugh… you laugh harder and love stronger.
You know that you can die bitter, or die thankful. There is no in between.
You never ever, EVER get over your child. The one you hoped for, prayed for, carried and loved for the weeks and months they were with you.
You learn to live with the pain.
You are better for having known them at all.

-----
I can't top anything she already wrote, so that's all for today.

Effing facebook, or, watching a trainwreck

So in case you didn't know, Facebook is up to their usual tricks, next week they are rolling out their "timeline" thing- so now everyone's page will be in a timeline format and all of your old posts and everything can come back to haunt you. You can preview what yours will look like by clicking on your name.

So, back in 2009, I whined about my job in Hell City and the spawn of satan 6th graders on FB probably at least 3x a week. (I know, I know, it is amazing that everyone hasn't hidden me.) I decided I should probably go back and clean that up, even though I try to keep my settings pretty locked down, I might want a job again someday, etc. etc. (Although cleaning up my FB page definitely confirms that it shouldn't be in teaching, 90% of my posts prior to Olivia and Luke were countdowns to summer or spring break or hoping for snow days, etc. Again, pretty amazing if I'm not hidden to most people. It was annoying even to me, in hindsight.)

Anyway, of course in the process of that, I stumbled on my last few posts teaching in Hell City and before Olivia died (some that I deleted , some that I kept up). God, it's eerie and sickening and I don't know how else to explain it, seeing those posts Before and After. Franchesca/Small Birds studio (who made my blog pretty), posted the other day about seeing a picture of herself before she lost her daughter and how there's just something different in pictures now. I totally agree with that. The innocence and naivety and faith that things usually turn out okay, that I had and felt, is not there anymore. I mean, now I know that sometimes things turn out okay (like with Lucas), and sometimes, they really, really, really don't (like the babyloss mom community.)I still can't believe that even after my OB was talking about delivering Olivia at around 24ish weeks due to her bad growth, while I was worried, I had no sense of the impending doom or urgency that I should have had- like seriously, what the hell was wrong with me? (My now 25 year old brother was a 29 weeker in the 80's and he's perfectly fine and healthy, so I think maybe part of it was that I thought if she did get delivered extremely early, as long as it was 24 weeks or later, they could save her and it would be fine, albeit a long NICU stay...because that world I was in...babies didn't die.)

Also, it's crazy how much I whined about school/teaching, but when I was having that stabbing upper right quadrant/ribcage pain that you know- was my liver on the verge of rupturing for 2ish weeks- nope, not a peep whining about that. That was going on through most of mid-late September and I am sure did not help me be less whiny or stressed in general. But working every day from 6 am till 10 pm and barely stopping to eat (my lunch every day was with 100ish 6th graders who were seriously the spawn of satan and could not behave then either...what the hell kind of school makes teachers eat lunch with middle schoolers? School in Hell City, that's where!)

Anyway, here it is, the last couple months of my pregnancy from facebook:

July 15, 2009
is excited that on Aug. 15 we get to find out if it's a girl baby or boy baby! If only that didn't seem like forever away...

August 15, 2009
BABY BROOKS IS A GIRL!!!

August 21,2009
Baby Brooks (7 photos)
First "pictures" of our baby. Expected arrival Jan. 23, 2010!

August 22,2009
is hopefully going crib shopping today...for the 3rd time...

August 31, 2009
knows it's way too soon to be burnt out already....but I'm burnt out already.
(this was the 3rd week of school when it became apparent these kids were the spawn of satan)

September 14, 2009
wishes it was January...or better yet...MAY!
(already knew I wasn't teaching there next year)

September 20, 2009
finally ordered the crib! I guess this means we should probably start cleaning out the baby room. Now, if only my work would fire me so I'd have time for this.
(seriously would have been happy to be fired, at this point I didn't feel like I could quit without losing my teaching license...and obviously someone who orders a baby crib at 21 weeks is living in a world where babies don't die)

September 21, 2009
so it's not looking good for the January baby to be a January baby after all...hopefully she at least hangs in there until November.

friend asks-what's wrong!?!?!?

Response: She's not growing very well. At my last ultrasound, she was 8 days behind, and now she is 2 weeks behind, so they are thinking that I may have pre-eclampsia or something wrong with the placenta. If she continues to fall even more behind, then they want to get her out sooner than later. 24 weeks is considered viable and I'm 22 weeks now, but hopefully she can stay put until at least Nov. because she'd still be very very early even then.

(why the hell I was so calm about all of this, I don't know. And I wasn't exactly "calm" but I kind of want to smack myself in hindsight. Also, the reason they only said I "might" have pre-eclampsia was because my blood pressure was still perfectly normal and I was not spilling protein, but I was very swollen and in a lot of pain.)

September 24, 2009
is DONE. I'm either quitting or going on medical leave, I am so not doing this anymore! And by the way, crying is very effective classroom management...it really freaked the 6th graders from hell out.
(not one of my finer teaching moments. But this was after my principal- who knew everything that was going on with my pregnancy- called me into her office during my plan period and chewed me out for an hour for "not disciplining" one of the biggest spawns of satan...because he was so bad some of the other kids were going to her and complaining about him...when I pointed out that I had written him up multiple times even that week, sent him in the hallway (which we weren't supposed to do), called home, given him detention, exactly wtf else was I supposed to do with the kid...her helpful response was "I've never seen a write up" and then she looked at the computer and there they were...20 minutes later I'm at lunch with same kid, he throws a milk carton across the table, I'm just done and send him directly to the office since we had just had this long talk, she sends him right back to my class as soon as lunch was over- thanks for the help.) Like I have said, I have *at least* as much PTSD from teaching in Hell City as I do from losing Olivia. I do not talk to a single person still from that entire school and I have a couple of school spirit t-shirts from the school that I really want to burn.

September 25,2009
is very happy it's Friday and today is most likely my last day...one way or another..l am DONE. Spirit day indeed.
(it really was my last day there, not for the reasons I had thought.)

September 25, 2009
will hear back from the doctor on Monday. In the meantime, I need to find the meanest sub ever.
(I had called the doctor sobbing during my plan period begging her to put me on medical leave. We had talked about it at my appointment earlier in the week but she had said bedrest isn't proven to help--which is still true even now-- but she also didn't realize the extreme stress I was under at that time. The nurse took my call and all the info and said the doctor was out of the office and would call me back Monday. I did talk to her Monday, but it was at 3 am and then in the hospital.)

September 30, 2009
Olivia Caetlyn Brooks was born at 8:48 pm on Monday, Sept.28 via an emergency c-section. She passed away about an hour later. Angie and Joe are doing as well as can be expected, we thank our wonderful friends and family for your prayers and support.

October 2, 2009
was released from the hospital today and physically feeling almost normal even though I'm supposed to be recovering from a c-section. We are both doing okay. Thanks again to everyone for all of your thoughts and prayers, they have really helped us.

October 22, 2009
turned in my work laptop today, I think I'm pretty much done with that place now--very glad that I'm out of that nightmare, at least.

It still amazes me how it went so very wrong, so quickly. But I guess that's how it usually does go with babyloss, and our drama actually dragged out longer than most since things started going wrong with the bad quad screen at the end of August, then they noticed she was several days behind (8, but a week off is considered normal so they weren't too worried yet but going to watch it..I didn't post about any of that.) Anyway, I probably could have done without that trip down memory lane, so thanks Facebook.

Saving Grace, 2011

Every year, the Pre-Eclampsia Foundation has an event called Saving Grace somewhere in the country (it changes every year, this year I think it was in NY.) It is a night where they raise money, share stories, etc. (Those interested in it can read more about it here: http://preeclampsia.org/component/lyftenbloggie/2011/12/03/117-saving-grace-reflects-hope-a-gratitude ) I hope someday soon Saving Grace will be close enough that we can go to it. (It was in Chicago in 2009, which would have been close enough, we seriously considered going but everything was still so new and raw only 2 months after we lost Olivia, we didn't really feel up to it.)

They also usually have something they call a Patient Symposium the day before or day after Saving Grace where all of the top experts on pre-eclampsia and HELLP in the country have a talk about what they know, etc. and take questions. They filmed it and sold dvd's of it a couple years ago, I have the dvd but haven't managed to watch it all the way through ever. (Too sciency even for me.)

 Anyway, a few months ago I posted about the "Field of Cradles" project that Susannah Pabot put together in honor of babies lost to pre-eclampsia, and we were lucky enough to have Olivia remembered and honored with a cradle and blanket and poem, which were exhibited several places on the East Coast. Well, Susannah also brought a few of the cradles and all of the blankets to Saving Grace, and was kind enough to send us pictures.

(I *think* that purple blanket right there is the one made in honor of Olivia but can't be for sure.)

Obviously nothing makes up for her not being here right now, but it is such a good feeling to know that other people are learning about her too short life and remembering and honoring her too.

Anyway, the Pre-Eclampsia Foundation put together this video honoring the babies and moms who have died due to pre-eclampsia, and showed it at Saving Grace this year. They took excerpts from some of the poems that Susannah wrote and put with the cradles and blankets for each baby, for parts of the video. It's a very nicely done video but you'll definitely want to be prepared to cry.

18 years

A couple nights ago my friend Jackie and I met someone who lost her daughter (I think her first child), eighteen years ago.

Her baby lived for 17 hours and then died of Group B strep, that was before they commonly tested for it. She said that a year later, they made it a routine test.

So she beamed at us and said that now she feels so lucky and glad to have an angel. And grinned at us like we were in this secret, really cool club.

And I might have unintentionally gave her my "are you smoking crack?" look because it was so over the top and I was so caught off guard and dumbfounded by it.

I was telling Joe about it yesterday when we were driving to the Angel of Hope statue and he was also flabbergasted.

This isn't to say that there aren't good things that have happened as a result of Olivia's death. I have  new, fantastic, friends, that I wouldn't have if Olivia were here. I'm probably a better person overall. I'm definitely a better mom to Lucas because of Olivia. I will have a new career. Etc. I mean, I'd still trade that all to have her back, but since she isn't coming back, I can at least recognize that some good has come of it.

But I really can't imagine ever being so dang happy about it and acting like I'm glad that I have "an angel" instead of a living daughter. As I was trying to explain it to Joe, I said, "It was like she was saying that she was glad or happy that her daughter died. " I will never be glad or happy that Olivia died, I can't fathom that or what it takes to get to that point. Self- preservation, maybe? I don't know. But I would like to think that 18 (er, 16) years from now, I won't be *happy* about it.

Like Brooke says, all sorts of people lose babies, even tacky and crazy and weird people. (Some people are probably crazy and weird and tacky before they lose babies and some people maybe it's an after effect. I'm sure I've had my share of crazy and weird days, but some of the things you hear are just way way beyond that .) I think maybe we can chalk this up to another person who is just out there, maybe.

Mommy guilt

On needs of living child vs. memory of dead child

So tonight is the annual candlelight vigil. It's Dec.6th every year, always cold, crowded, slightly chaotic- but they have a nice little ceremony. The first year I was really nervous about it, last year I was really excited for it, this year, I have been dreading it. Not so much the service but standing in the freezing cold for a couple hours, no parking, leaving Luke with someone for the first time, being in a crowd of like 1000 people with very little space...yeah. The ceremony is very nice though.

Luke was just not acting like his happy self yesterday. He was super irritable (even while I was feeding him- food ALWAYS makes him happy), and slept more than usual. Last night I left him with Joe while we started working on Christmas stuff to send out to all the new loss people at the hospital support group, he was actually mostly ok for Joe but he saw him pulling on his left ear a lot. He was out cold by the time I got home but woke up after an hour or two (which secretly made me happy), I changed him and let him play for an hour (Joe had given him tylenol) then he fell back to sleep for most of the night. Today he has been acting pretty normal again but he has pulled on his left ear a few times. My guess is that it is probably nothing or teething since he doesn't really have a fever, but I'd rather get it checked out to be sure, he's never been to the doctor for anything but well baby visits and shots (in 7.5 months), so even if it's nothing, I'm not too worried about being a crazy mom on this. We have an appointment at the end of today. (Coincidentally, we were at the dr last week for just a shot, I wonder if he picked up something from that, and that does make me more hesitant to bring him in now. Sick kids are on the "well" side all of the time since they aren't separated by anything- there are 2 different doors/sides but it opens to one big room with a supposed well side and sick side.)

Then I talked to my mom, my sister was going to baby-sit for us but she left work sick yesterday. So we've already decided, ear infection/illness or not, we aren't going this year, technically one of my brothers or my mom or dad could maybe watch them, but my sister has been sick for a few days and she's been around all of them, I'd rather not expose Luke to something extra even if he isn't sick . It's too cold to bring him to the memorial. We are planning on stopping by before and leaving a flower while Luke stays in the car with one of us while the other goes. That will have to do for this year.

But I feel guilty about it. I know we do/have done other stuff remembering Olivia and for other babyloss families throughout the year, and this is just one day, but blech. I never thought there'd be a year when we wouldn't go unless something really serious was going on, but here we are, not going.  I guess it's because I didn't really want to go anyway, and this excuse came up, so we're not. Oh well, I guess I'll have to get over it.

Life sentence

The heartbreak of infant loss

By Laura Schubert

Did you know that October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month? I'll bet not. Despite the infant mortality crisis that's been at the forefront of Milwaukee's public health news for months, the only people who have more than a cursory comprehension of what it means to lose a baby are those who've lived it.

Infant loss is nature's cruelest practical joke. It's investing all of the required time and effort into pregnancy, only to be robbed of the result. It's cradling a body that grew within your own and trying to reconcile the cold, lifeless form in your arms with your memory of the baby who turned double flips in your womb.

It's worrying that you'll forget what your child looked like and snapping an album's worth of photos that no one will ever ask to see. It's sobbing so hard you can't breathe and wondering if it's possible to cry yourself to death.

Infant loss is handing off a Moses basket to the nurse who's drawn the unfortunate duty of delivering your pride and joy to the morgue and walking out of a hospital with empty arms.

It's boxing up brand new baby clothes and buying a 24-inch casket. It's sifting through sympathy cards, willing your foolish body to stop lactating, clutching your baby's blanket to your chest in hopes of soothing the piercing ache in your heart.

It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.

Infant loss is explaining to your 7-year-old that sometimes babies die and being stumped into silence when she asks you why. It's watching other families live out your happy ending and fighting a fresh round of grief with every milestone you miss.

It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.

It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.

Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.

My baby girl would have been 5 years old this month. I don't know what she'd look like, what her favorite food would be. I've never had the privilege of tucking her into bed, taking her to the zoo or kissing her boo-boos. I will never watch her graduate or walk down the aisle.

Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

------
I know lots of people have posted this on blogger and facebook, but its too well written not to repost.

I'll add a few more...

Infant loss is...

-hesitating every time someone asks how many kids you have, or "is he your first", because there never is a good way to answer, and sometimes answering with the truth just leads to really crappy comments.

-never looking at anything quite the same way as you did before


-figuring out how to do family pictures when one family member is always missing


- living with random flashbacks of the worst moments of your life


-struggling with your spouse being sad when you aren't, or not being sad when you are, or just grieving differently


-Books for children like "We Were Supposed to Have a Baby But Got an Angel Instead" and "Someone Came Before You" and wondering when you will be able to read it without crying, and when is it appropriate to start reading anyway. And wishing you could burn that damn book and get your baby back instead.


Feel free to add yours, fellow babyloss mom's

SHARE walk for remembrance, 2011, Part 1

Lucas and my mom and balloons

Joe and Lucas

Lucas and me, wearing our Olivia butterflies and the butterfly we made for Brooke's Eliza
since Brooke wasn't able to make it, Lucas was determined to get that glittery foam goodness into
his mouth so we had to ditch his butterfly

Little brothers ARE awesome indeed.

Jackie and me, moms to an angel and a rainbow

This does not even come close to capturing the crowd, people in green are bereaved parents.

Again, only part of the crowd.

There are a few more pictures I have to share that other people took, so I'll make that as a Part 2 post when I get them.

The weather was PERFECT. The crowd was huge. It was a nice day to remember all of our babies who left too soon. Seeing so many people I knew there made me realize just how many people I have met in this journey. I am grateful for all of them.

October 15

October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Today we honor the babies we carried but never met, those we held but could not take home, and the ones who came home but couldn't stay.

To my friends, you and your angels are in my thoughts and prayers today, and everyday. I will be forever thankful to have walked this journey with you all by my side. ♥

 

(Stolen from a friend's facebook status, but I know I can't say it any better than she just did.)

 

Olivia's birthday

It's hard to find the words for yesterday. I started a few different blog posts and erased them, so maybe we'll try pictures instead.

It was a beautiful day. Just like last year. I bought the same happy birthday butterfly balloon and the same heart balloon as last year (but this year decided to write on it), and this year added a pink flower balloon. One for each of us.

 And Lucas was dressed for the occasion but totally uncooperative for pictures, he was fascinated by grass.

Actually, Lucas is a mellow happy baby most of the time overall but yesterday he was especially cooperative (with the exception of pictures and then at bedtime he'd fall asleep for 5 minutes, wake up when I put him in bed, and then was wide awake chattering away like it was the middle of the day. Finally I put him on the floor to play and let him wear himself out.) I was concerned about trying not to cry in front of him much since he's not quite as oblivious now, that was a failure, but luckily he didn't seem concerned about it.

 

 We left flowers, and broke the rules again this year and left a little doll and winnie the pooh figurine (last year they let the stuff we left stay for almost a year- technically since its a national cemetery "stuff" is against the rules but they tend to let it slide if it is subtle and plus Olivia's grave faces away from the street).

Then we released the balloons (Lucas participated)

I had my eye out for butterflies, but there weren't any. No animals or insects of any kind, but strangely enough, right after the balloons were out of sight, a big orange butterfly flew quickly across the street, past us, and was gone...too quick for me to get a picture and even Joe nearly missed it because it came and went so quickly. If I hadn't been looking around, I would have missed it too.

Then we stopped by the angel/park on the way home (this is where we will be back next week for Lucas's early 6 month pictures- fingers crossed the weather cooperates)

 The angel always accumulates lots of stuff.

We added a baby doll and teddy bear and another winnie the pooh figure to the collection.

And a flower to Olivia's brick,

More uncooperative baby pictures (but at least he's smiling).

I had to go to the bathroom and when I walked back up to Joe and Lucas, this butterfly practically flew into me. (It looks a lot like the same butterfly at the cemetery but I'm sure it isn't since they are 20ish miles apart.)

Then we came home and ate cupcakes. They had sprinkles and tinkerbell on them.  Joe and I went through her memory box and cried a lot more while Lucas played and laughed at us.

It was a nice day, for what it was. We received so many nice messages and texts and emails, and even an incredibly nice and unexpected card. That definitely made the hard day a little easier. But it was definitely still sad and hard and draining. It also definitely helped to have Lucas to squeeze a little extra tightly, poor kid. Although I think being pregnant with him for Olivia's first birthday forced me to keep it together a bit more and this year I tried but really couldn't.

Happy birthday, baby girl.

September 28, 2011

Two years ago today about this time I was getting an ultrasound on my lungs and liver and probably other stuff in the hospital. The tech kept looking at something in particular and then even went and got another tech to help her. I was almost relieved that it seemed like they had found something wrong to explain my pain. When we were brought back to the hospital room, I naively said to Joe, "I'm just afraid that they aren't going to find anything wrong and send me home like I'm imagining this..." (I always morbidly wonder what exactly would have happened if they had sent me home. My OB said I would have likely started seizing by the next day and gone into liver failure within a day or so as well. Olivia was already in distress with low fluid levels by around 4 pm that day, so I don't think she would have lived much longer inside me. They didn't think she'd survive long enough for an induction.)

A nurse came in and asked if I wanted pain meds and I said no. Soon after that, my OB's (now ex) partner came in and checked me over, asked about where it hurt and that dumb rating scale they use. The nurse told her how I had turned down pain meds, the tone in her voice suggesting that "she can't be in that much pain if she doesn't want drugs"...that was when I spoke up that the reason I didn't want pain meds was that I would rather tough it out until I passed out from it than take something that might effect the baby. I think Joe must have been on his way home to let out the dogs by then because he probably would have been even more irritated about that than I was. Someone came in and did more bloodwork and they were waiting for the radiologist's report. I begged for food and they finally agreed to give me freaking broth, which was disgusting, but I was starving. They didn't want to let me eat anything real until they knew what was wrong in case I needed surgery. We'd been there since 3 am or so and it was now about noon.

The Really Bad News came from a phone call around 2:30ish. I was watching General Hospital (It just so happens that Olivia and Lucas/Lucky are both characters there. We didn't do it intentionally really, and if we have another girl someday, the names that I really like aren't any characters yet.) And texting my friend on my cell phone about how they were trying to starve me and asking her to google pain meds and pregnancy because by that point I was pretty stinking miserable between my hunger and the pain and also sleep deprivation and not to mention I had no idea that I was never going back to Hell City again so I was still stressed out about what the little darlings were doing to my sub and the lesson plan for the next day. I think I called them sometime that afternoon before I found out the bad news and told them that I'd been admitted and still was there and probably wouldn't be in to work Tuesday either and just have them do whatever.

Anyway, my OB was on the phone (note: when my OB calls me herself, it's almost ALWAYS bad news. The only time she called me herself my entire pregnancy with Lucas was to tell me the amnio came back mature which I already knew from my nurse at the perinatal center, and after I had called her when my water broke. She called me twice in my brief pregnancy with Olivia- when my quad screen test results came back bad, and that day in the hospital.) She said my lab work came back really bad, that she wanted me to be transferred to another hospital and stay on bedrest there as long as we could, but we'd probably be delivering in a week or so. And there was a high risk doctor coming to see me and talk to me more. He came and suddenly waiting a week to deliver was no longer an option. (I found out later my OB called around a few more MFM's to get other opinions and try to find something, anything, to buy us a little more time. But they all agreed and said there was nothing.)

Everything was a whirlwind from there although not really. The last ultrasound. Going back to my hospital room after the ultrasound. The nurse asking what happened and crying with us. The ambulance to the next hospital. Talking to my OB at the new hospital. Getting prepped. And then surgery. Then she was born. And died. 2 miserable days in recovery on mag sulfate with our dead baby in the room because Joe wouldn't let them take her away and wouldn't let anyone set her in the little basket/cradle they brought her in. (That's still heartbreaking even in retrospect.) Finally, thank god for Heartprints Maggie who coaxed Joe into letting them take the baby for a little while with the promise they'd bring her back whenever we wanted. We were in bad shape. Finally the mag was stopped and I was brought to a new room away from L&D (but ironically ended up there with Lucas-thankfully not in the same room- b/c the hospital was so overfull with mom's and babies that they had to use 2 floors.) A few days later it was suddenly October, and we left without our baby, with a bag full of Olivia's "stuff", a scrapbook, some little books and stuff.

And here we are now, two years later.  Still missing her as much as ever. I made the mistake this year of trying to think of this day as little as possible. It's been quite a long while since I had a good hard cry. Heartprints Maggie says grief is like a cup that builds up overtime until you empty it or it overflows...and it is overflowing for me today. I don't remember last year being this hard, not that it was easy. This may be a multiple post day.

Oh Olivia, I wish you could have stayed.

That Question

Today my friend Jackie and I met for lunch at McAlisters with our rainbow boys (who are getting to be fairly high maintenance now that they don't just sleep through our meal like they used to, but they were still both pretty good.)

This older lady came by to bring us our food and touched baby Zackary's head which totally would have earned her a dirty look from me if it had been Lucas but Jackie is not as spazzy about that stuff as me- and I always try to keep Lucas strategically away from strangers as much as possible.Anyway, so she asks if the boys are related (at least she didn't ask if they were twins), how close they are in age, the usual stuff...and then came That Question.

"So are these your firsts?"

I pretty much froze and stared at Jackie who gave a strained "mmhmm" as she met my eyes. The lady babbled on for a second or two longer and then left us.

I gave myself permission to answer however I need to in the moment and my answer is totally different every time. There are times I've said no and made the person keep prying for details, I've said yes (I look at it as although he's not our first child, he's the first that we are getting to raise-which is sorta what the person is really asking I think), there are times I've said " no-our-first-baby-died" in all one breath. No matter how I answer, I usually end up feeling pretty crappy about it.

This was the first time we were asked together. And it would have really freaked the lady out, probably. And I will always hate that question.

It has almost been two years since Olivia came and left.  The day after we lost her some idiotic chipper young resident came into my hospital room and apparently missed the heartprints sign taped to the door which is the head's up for them to know that the baby died. I asked her how many days I had to stay and she assumed since I was in a recovery room (for the extremely close monitoring because of the meds I was on and my still wonky labs) that my c-section was that day and gave us a totally wrong answer. Then she asked me brightly, "how is your baby doing?" I answered flatly, "dead". She did the gasp of surprise "oh I'm so sorry blah blah" routine that I've become used to now. Joe, ever the protector, had a (probably not very nice) little talk in the hallway with her and the poor nurse who was standing there shocked. His intention was good and that made for an easy target to vent some anger at the entire crappy situation, but really, that was just the start of That Question. Here we are, nearly two years later, blessed with a beautiful, healthy, happy baby boy, and STILL that question comes up. I guess it will probably haunt us forever, "That Question". It isn't so much that it makes us think about Olivia, we are always thinking of her. It's that it always smacks you in the face randomly, usually when I'm least expecting it, and there never is a good answer.

17 weeks

I can't believe how fast he's gone from this....

Sept. 10, 2010

November 2010

 to this:



(Although not one part of my pregnancy felt like it went very fast, except for maybe his whirlwind birth.)

And then this:



I'm wearing a newborn-sized outfit!

And these days he's looking like this:

Visiting Olivia's brick and the Angel of Hope statue last week.

Drool? Check. Binkie? Check. Sophie the Giraffe? Check. Blankie? Check. Life is good.

This thing is called the Rock N Play and it's been Lucas's wonderful 'bed' for the last 2 months, best $40 spent ever.

17 weeks of heaven. It's looking like Lucas is not going to stay blond after all. Thank god.( Just kidding.) Whether he keeps his blue eyes or not still remains to be seen, but I'm thinking they are staying blue.  It's hard to believe that at this time last year I was just starting the meds for the cycle that would result in him, and here he is, happy and healthy and perfect. He has this smile that lights up his entire face, like you are the best thing in the world. He thinks me singing the ABC's is the greatest thing ever. He has NO desire to roll over anytime soon but acts like he's going to start crawling anyday now. (And then we will be screwed because our house is not babyproofed yet AT ALL.) He is starting to get pretty good at sitting up (assisted) and we are working on sitting unassisted. He's started playing in his jumperoo a lot, it's still on the shortest setting with a book underneath so he can actually touch the ground, but I bet in another week, he won't need the book anymore at all. He is so happy, almost always, (except when I try to wear him! He still is not impressed with the baby carrier at all.) We are just in awe of him.

There's always questions in the back of my mind, as we watch him grow and change so quickly, what Olivia would have been like as a baby. Would she have been a perfect baby like her brother and Aunt Brooke, or would she cry nonstop for the first 9 months like her mommy? Would she have had my blue eyes or Joe's brown eyes? What color would her hair have been? (I used to think it would obviously be brown, until Lucas came along with his blond hair.) She didn't stay long enough for us to learn very much about her at all. I wish she could have stayed.

As sucky as it is that she isn't here to meet her little brother in person, she gave us a new perspective on what is important, and what isn't. When we lost Olivia, I wanted to die, too. I really struggled with the fact that her death saved my life (not that it really came down to her OR me, the alternative was that we'd both die, but still, in my head, she died and it was my fault and yet I was still alive.) I was mad that she was gone and I was still here. And that first year, I wasn't all that especially grateful to still be alive, not that I was suicidal, but I wished I had just died with her, most of the time. But now? I still hate that she isn't here. However, I'm finally glad I didn't die almost two years ago; these past 17 weeks have been the best weeks of my life. Rainbow baby, indeed.

August 19th

http://august19thdayofhope.blogspot.com/

A different child

I've been thinking about Olivia a lot lately. I think her birthday coming up is starting to weigh on me. How have we survived two whole years. There are moments when I flashback and am right there in those dark moments again. I hate that our very brief time with our daughter was overshadowed by the worst moments of my life. But then, I guess we are lucky we had any time with her at all. Blech. Most of the time, I'm okay. I can talk about her and what happened without getting the slightest bit teary eyed (usually). But every once in awhile, more often lately, there are moments when a flashback hits me and it's like those early days when it was so hard to even breathe, to even want to breathe.
I found this description on this blog http://webhome.idirect.com/~pandora1sama/observtn.htmlthat explains it so well:

So does having a healthy baby help the grief? Yes, it does, but not quite in the way you might think. You hold your baby close, and as she does something, or looks like the baby you lost, oh so vividly, you remember your lost little angel again, and you feel that pain afresh.

I realized after a while, that we still have so much grief inside us that we couldn't let go of, until we had Madoka. It is not so much that the empty space in your heart is filled, for one child can never replace another, but that you can grieve a little more, and in grieving, experience a relief from all that pent-up pain that you didn't even realize was still there.

When I put Madoka in some of the sleepers Rhiannon had worn, it was a bittersweet experience. It felt good to see a live baby in them, after all, and yet, I found myself asking, "Why couldn't I keep them both? Why couldn't Rhiannon be a sweet toddler now, watching her new sister with awe?" When yesterday, Madoka grew out of the smallest sleeper, the only one which fitted Rhiannon's tiny birdlike body perfectly, I felt good--it was a rite of passage--now I know Madoka's going to make it. And yet, I was sad...Rhiannon will never, never grow bigger. And I know I'll keep that sleeper, always, in remembrance of Rhiannon. 
Lucas is getting so big, so fast. I am loving every second with him, I know how quickly and easily it could be gone. I wish I could slow down time, just a little bit. You would think that being home with him all day, every day, I would have my fill of him....but no, not really. He sleeps through the night now consistently, and I really miss our 3 am feedings. (I won't live to regret saying/thinking that. And I expect that he won't sleep through the night forever. I would have done anything to get up in the middle of the night with Olivia. So even when I'm really tired and don't feel like getting up, it's pretty easy to suck it up and cuddle the baby that we are lucky enough to have.

The same person who wrote the excerpt I quoted also wrote this poem which has been published in a book and a few other places:

A different child

People notice
There's a special glow around you.
You grow
Surrounded by love,
Never doubting you are wanted;
Only look at the pride and joy
In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes
Between the smiles
There's a trace of tears,
One day
You'll understand.

You'll understand
There was once another child
A different child
Who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes
That child will never keep them up at night
In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.

Except sometimes, in a silent moment,
When mother and father miss so much
That different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly
And may you learn the lesson forever
How infinitely precious
How infinitely fragile
Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman
You may see another mother's tears
Another father's silent grief
Then you, and you alone
Will understand
And offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost,
You will tell them
With great compassion,
"I know how you feel.
I'm only here
Because my mother tried again."
-Pandora Diane MacMillan

24 weeks and ultrasound

Today is 24 weeks exactly.

Emotionally, I'm a little conflicted. Happy and excited and relieved to be this far. But also, really sad that I couldn't have made it this far with Olivia. When I got sick with her at 23+2, 24 weeks was an impossible milestone. She would have died inside me and I probably wouldn't have made it either. But still, I would have willingly died to get this far if it would have saved her. I've made peace with the fact that it wasn't actually a choice between her or me, if we hadn't delivered when we did it would have been both of us pretty quickly. But still, every milestone we reach with Lucas is a bittersweet reminder of all of the milestones we weren't able to reach Olivia. Why couldn't my pregnancy have went like this the first time? It isn't that we aren't excited and happy about our little boy, we are, but it doesn't take away from missing our baby girl so very much. Being pregnant again is so much harder than I expected it to be.

Anyway, my ultrasound was supposed to be tomorrow, but since they've called a weather state of emergency for tomorrow, and we're supposed to be getting a bunch of ice, sleet, and then a blizzard, when they called and asked if I could come in today, I said okay. Luckily, my mom's school was released early for the weather and she was able to meet me there. I have a phobia about going to ultrasounds alone now, because when I got bad news with Olivia (over and over again), it always worked out that I was alone- even in the hospital, I had just sent Joe home to get food and let the dogs out when they figured out I had HELLP. So anyway, my strategy for ultrasounds this time has been have someone with me and the bad news will stay away. I was relieved my mom could make it.

So, the ultrasound was pretty much entirely good. Baby Lucas really wasn't as active today but it was during his 1 pm naptime and I could feel him moving most of last night (ALL night even through 2-4 am) and most of this morning. (He was moving around, just not upside down and all over the place, he mostly stayed in the same position for once.) His heart rate was 150 and his shortest measurement was 25+1, his biggest measurement was 25+6 (I think that was his femur), when they averaged it together he is now about 8 days ahead, estimated weight 1 lb 13 ounces (pretty good for 24 weeks exactly), and he's in the 66% for growth. My fluid levels look good and everything else looked good. (They didn't do a blood flow study.) At one point during the ultrasound he kicked me so hard the tech felt it and my mom saw it on my belly. He was laying horizontally, looking down, with his legs stretched out all the way down. I really didn't get any good pictures this time, he was in a bad position and she gave me a couple of face shots, a not very good picture of his legs stretched out, and another "boy!" picture. Not that there's been any doubt before, but he's definitely still a boy, today's picture was very clear about that.

My mom asked the ultrasound tech a bunch of questions about the notching for me. (They aren't going to look at blood flow again for now unless his growth slows down or I start showing concerning symptoms/blood pressure acts up). It turns out it was only in one artery (as opposed to two), and was really really mild. I feel better about it since his growth has actually gotten better instead of worse. With Olivia, it was about 4 weeks from the time she first started falling behind to the time I had HELLP,  so I feel like this hopefully should guarantee us at least four more weeks.

The dizziness  is still hanging on. I didn't do my gestational diabetes test this morning because they were originally expecting the ice to start at 6 am today and I didn't want to be out on the roads in that. I'm hoping to get it done Friday and I'm going to call my doctor's office on Thursday and ask them to write another lab slip for them to test me for anemia at the same time- might as well limit my number of blood draws and I really think the dizziness is probably either just an annoying pregnancy thing or anemia and not gestational diabetes. I wouldn't be surprised if I have both GD and anemia, but I haven't found any mention of GD causing dizziness and I tried doing the GD diet and it really didn't help the dizziness at all. (But the dizziness actually went away last night after I ate steak and broccoli for dinner.) Anyway, I'm hoping that the roads will get clear enough that maybe on Friday I can get the tests done, but in the meantime I guess I'll just have to deal with dizzy afternoons. At least it doesn't seem to be bothering or hurting the baby, whatever it is.

Last but not least:
Ginormous belly at 24 weeks, I'm definitely not complaining, if huge belly= huge baby, then bring it on. I'm just glad my back doesn't really hurt, strangely it hurt a lot in the first trimester so much that I asked my high risk doctor about it (worried that the epidural with Olivia had somehow screwed up my spine because that's where it hurt), but now that I'm huge, no back pain.

Another year in the books

2010 went something like this for us: I went back to sucky work (only one gun scare the second half of the school year, all of my seniors passed and graduated except for the one who ended up in prison), Joe did the unemployment thing and job searched for the first 6 months, grieving and more grieving, trying and more trying, fertility doctors (4), Joe finally gets a job- a much better job with a much farther drive but no on call time, ultrasounds, bloodwork, more doctors, more bloodwork, more ultrasounds, more tragedy and grieving, start thinking about moving when Joe's job becomes permanent, resign from my job for moving/fertility treatments/pregnancy/and so I don't get shot,  finally pregnant (cancel the moving idea until 2012), enter fear and stress plus grieving, it's a boy!, more doctors, more ultrasounds, more bloodwork, still grieving. And here we are at the end. (This is probably the most concise I have been all year.)

What a strange year this has been.

It's weird that I'm ending this year hugely pregnant (19 weeks and 2 days when this was taken Wednesday) when that was supposed to be the way LAST YEAR ended, with my January 23rd,2010 due date. (And ironically, on the second anniversary of my due date with Olivia, I will be 23 weeks, which is how far along I was when we lost her. What a fun week that will be.) Clearly, the universe enjoys screwing with my head. I propose we fast forward January and make tomorrow February 1st. (My two brothers with January 1 and January 10 birthdays probably wouldn't like that so much, but I sure would.)

Instead of relief that this year is over and we get a fresh start, I'm very wary of what 2011 has in store for us. More grief is inevitable for those we've already lost. But will there be a "take home" baby? Another loss? More losses?  It still feels as iffy as if it's dependent on the flip of a coin. Every month that passes that I'm still pregnant and things seem to be going well, the possibility of taking this baby home seems a little better. After January, I hope it will seem a lot better. But it's still all so very uncertain and fragile. There are SO MANY things that can and do go wrong. (And sometimes I want to shout at a well meaning person trying to reassure me: Placenta abruptions! Incompetent cervix! Preterm premature rupture of the membranes (PPROM)! Intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR)! Pre-eclampsia and HELLP! Cord accidents and knots! "Unexplained stillbirths"!...There are so many reasons that babies die in utero and shortly after they are born. I don't for one second think that this is a sure thing, even when we're safely past 24 weeks. (Definitely it's a good thing that last month was our last at the support group hopefully until May or maybe June. Although I'll miss going, too, I'm doing just fine on finding things to worry about without it.) Luckily, when we reach the magical age of viability (aka 24 weeks), the list becomes a little shorter-while 24 weeks is by no means an ideal time for a baby to come out, it's not a certain death sentence like having to deliver at 22 weeks would be, 24 weekers at least have A chance, not the greatest odds of survival, but at least it's possible, and my doctors will be watching me even closer, then. So I like to keep thinking this will be easier in February, but I guess we'll  hopefully see.

The grief...it definitely changes over time. Even our happiest moments now our tinged with the bittersweet sadness that our daughter isn't here for them. The days that I spend sobbing in bed and barely leaving our room have become fewer and farther between...I'm not even sure when the last one was.  It's not that the pain ever eases up, it doesn't, it hurts as bad today as it hurt a year ago. It's just it becomes more comfortable, I'm used to it, it's part of both of us now. Just as surely as my name and birthday, our first baby died. It hurts. We miss her. There isn't a day I don't think about her. But I guess we're figuring out ways to live again, with the new lives and as the new people we find ourselves to be. It's like a heavy weight that will always be on our shoulders, the first few months the weight was so unbearable we really couldn't do or focus on anything but how uncomfortable it was to be in this totally new and foreign position. And now, the weight is still there, and it's just as heavy as it always was, but we've figured out how to move around again, to think of other things, sometimes the weight still absorbs a lot of our focus, and then there are some moments we get so used to it we almost forget that it's there.

This year I've learned/managed to talk about her, and even tell our story, without crying (sometimes.) I braved the doctor's offices and hospitals again. Normal pregnant women bother me a lot now-when I have to hear them talk- ("My doctor is making me go in for another ultrasound because they are worried about [insert reason], I'm so annoyed about this" "The worst thing about having this pre-eclampsia stuff is that I might have to get induced, which is not in my birth plan at all."-- true stories/comments.) (When they aren't making obnoxious comments like that, they don't bother me.) I've talked a lot about wanting to punch particular people in the face this year, moreso than past years, but there has been no actual face punching, which I consider an accomplishment. In fact, I've gritted my teeth and sucked it up and been nice far more times than I probably should have. (And then came home to tell Joe about wanting to punch someone in the face.) Needless to say, I don't think any of the hospital classes are in our future. I've answered the "so do you have any kids?" and "how many kids do you have?" questions more times this year than I can count, and probably given a different answer then the one before each time. Sometimes, if I'm just not in the mood to get into it, I just say no or shake my head or even ignore the question. And sometimes I will say "yes, but she died", because I've stopped really caring about making other people uncomfortable. And sometimes I just said, "Yes, one" and didn't elaborate and changed the subject. That's definitely my least favorite question of 2010.

I am hoping that 2011 will have more "ups" then "downs", and will be a lot less tumultous than 2009 and 2010 have been.

Christmas, 19 weeks, 27

Christmas is always tough for most parents who have lost children. This year was a little bit easier and more bearable than last year in some ways, and harder in other ways. Last Christmas, I was *supposed* to still be pregnant...this was supposed to be Olivia's first Christmas and she would have been almost one, it was hard to think about all of the stuff we were missing out on with her.

We went to Olivia's grave and left a little stuffed Winnie the Pooh. I wrote her name on the tag, in case it gets blown away and someone wants to go to the trouble of returning it, and realized how few things there are to write her name on. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the teddy bear and pink birthday duck that we had left there on her birthday in September were still there even now, because she's buried in a national cemetery, the only thing you are really technically supposed to leave is flowers, and there are even rules about the kinds of flowers (can't be fake after April or something like that.) So, we never really expect the things we leave there to last long, but it's always nice when they still are there.

We survived the rest of it okay. It's still a struggle. There are things I wish we had done differently this year and I think next year we will hopefully be better at finding a better balance of what's right for us. Our first Christmas without Olivia, we did mostly nothing, just wanting to pretend Christmas didn't exist and for it to be over with (we did go to her grave, I think we always will.) This was our second year, and we did the normal things that we did before Olivia and added visiting her grave around the usual schedule. Next year, I'm not sure about yet, but we'll figure out what works for our family, I hope, finding the right balance of missing and remembering Olivia and celebrating with her little brother. There aren't really rules for this, but what I do know is that the usual routines don't really work for us very well anymore, even now, that became very apparent this year.Next year I won't try to force it so much.

Today I turned 27 and also 19 weeks pregnant. I got lots of sweet birthday wishes that I really appreciated and had a nice time with my family.  I'm not really in a great mood for celebrating or doing much, the holidays just make it kind of draining. Raja the elephant turned 18 today, which makes me feel really freaking old, because I remember when he was born (it was sort of a big deal because he was the first Asian elephant ever born at the St.Louis zoo and elephant pregnancies take like 2+ years.) It's been funny how many people have mentioned Raja's birthday (he had a birthday party that they featured on the news, apparently, Joe said he wished he had taken off work so we could have went...I'm okay with not going to the zoo today, it's pretty cold out.)

I've been pretty calm this week, relatively speaking, about this pregnancy. I guess my focus has been more on missing Olivia than making up things to worry about. My blood pressure has creeped up a little bit, but not alarmingly high or numbers I've never gotten before, they are still well within my normal range, just a little bit higher than usual. I think I'm chalking it up to the holidays, my blood pressure was up a bit around Thanksgiving too. I've had a tiny bit of really mild heartburn too, not even bad enough that I need to take anything for it to be comfortable, and I know it's normal to have heartburn during pregnancy. Still, it concerns me a little, because with Olivia I was having really bad heartburn one week and in the hospital with my liver on the verge of rupturing the very next week. I'd feel a lot better if the heartburn would just go away for 10 more weeks or so. Lucas is moving a lot some days, and others not so much though I'll still feel him at least a few times every day. I think I've felt a few kicks a couple of times, but nothing blatantly obvious yet and nothing that Joe can feel just yet. Hopefully that comes soon. This week will hopefully be rather uneventful, no appointments or anything until next Friday when we have our next growth ultrasound.

Glimmer of hope

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention [the child] because you think you may make them sad by reminding them that [their child] died-- you're not reminding them. They didn't forget [their child] died. What you are reminding them of is that you remembered that [their child] lived, and that is a great gift." -Elizabeth Edwards

This is so true. In fact, it can be hurtful when your child is not mentioned. It's not that I need Olivia brought up by someone every day, but sometimes when she's forgotten during a discussion that is relevant, it really hurts our feelings.  This something that I struggle with now that I'm pregnant again, there are people who act as if Rainbow baby is our first child. It makes me feel as if I have to fight even harder to make people remember Olivia. There will always be someone missing in our family, no matter how many children we end up having. And while we are both very excited (and terrified) to be expecting another baby, it doesn't fix what we've lost, we're both still very sad that Olivia is not here, and nothing can fix that.

 

Last night at our support group, there was a woman who lost her first baby a long time ago but I've never seen her at a meeting before. Her story is all too familiar, she developed pre-eclampsia and HELLP at 19 weeks and had to deliver her baby. It's rare, for me to run into someone who got sick even earlier than I did.  This woman apparently got pregnant again, and with her next pregnancy, she made it to 34 weeks before she got sick. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to talk with her later to ask if she did anything major differently. (There's not much that I can do differently that I'm not already doing, anyway. ) But still! 34 weeks! I know that both of my doctors would be thrilled to get me to 34 weeks. (34 weekers generally need a couple of weeks of NICU time as "feeders and growers", so it's still sucky because we'd have to leave the hospital without our baby. We've done that once and I don't want to ever again.) I'm stubborn and determined to make it all the way to 36, but one milestone at a time.  Also, there was someone new that we talked a lot with, it turns out she was born at 24 weeks (because her mom got severe pre-eclampsia and probably HELLP but they didn't test for HELLP back then), and that was in the 80's. I needed that reminder, I guess, that 24 weekers CAN live and be perfectly normal. Our goal is not anywhere near 24 weeks, but getting there with everything going okay will be a relief. 

 

I'm sure it won't be long before I'm panicking again. But for now, I am hopeful.