Birthdays Were the Worst Days

 It's been nine years and it's really OK. I'm OK. I'm not sad today. I wasn't sad yesterday, and I won't be sad tomorrow. But today is Blue's birthday and I still remembered.

Maybe life has been too crazy lately...and yet not because you can't really go anywhere...how is that possible? But I haven't thought too much about the little boy I never really had, or his dad, or what life would be like now if he had been born sick or had we been lucky enough that he was born a healthy baby. 

Not sure why I decided I should blog on this day this year...or this year at all...but while I'm here...

I did reach out to Chris. Finally, after realizing that I was having sadness surrounding the way that we completely split, that I didn't know anything about the person who was almost connected to me very intimately for the rest of my life, I emailed him. He has not responded. I'm OK. I didn't need him to say anything, or to fix anything, or to apologize for anything. I kept it brief, told him I had been thinking about Blue and about him and wanted to reach out, that I no longer harbored any ill will toward him. (Should I have apologized for calling him a piece of shit that one time on his voicemail?) I do, finally, forgive him. It's OK. We didn't know what the heck we were doing back then. Nobody expected a dead baby six months into pregnancy and nobody had the tools to cope with that. I waited until I knew I would feel OK if I didn't get a response. Maybe one is still coming, but I won't hold my breath.

****

In reading over old posts I see that I skipped from "what is happening" to my period, to 25 weeks pregnant, and I want to be open about having had a miscarriage. It was early, there was never a heartbeat, and we were able to start trying again soon after. I think it took about 2 full cycles to get back to normal. In the end it took 14 months to get pregnant after the start of cycles after LJ was born, and we almost started some fertility treatments, but because I was on vacation for Day 1 the month we were going to start, I pushed that back one month and lo and behold got pregnant on my own. My husband says at least we got a nice stainless water bottle out of it. I wasn't really sad about miscarrying, but when the due date rolled around that was kind of a bummer. In the end I am happy to have had a spring baby instead of a fall baby for No. 3.

Speaking of No. 3, there is a No. 4 now. She was born in May of 2019. And I have to say that her birth has filled some of that hole in my heart that opened when Blue died. When she was born I couldn't believe I had 4 kids. Sometimes I still can't believe it. Things have leveled out now but I had so many complicated emotions after her birth. I was so sad that childbearing was over. (I mean, that's the plan!) I thought I would feel "done," but I didn't. And I wonder how much of that is still grief? I do feel much better now, and I know (like 96%?) that I do not want to have a fifth child, but there is so much to unpack. Another day though. (Work.)

Happy Birthday to my baby Blue. It's been nine years without you, and I never really met you, but I still miss you, and I love you always.

To be continued...(maybe).

Surprise! I'm Still Sad

Surprise! I'm still sad that Blue died.

The sadness the past few weeks has really been surprising myself. I suppose it's just the time of year that I got the bad news. His birthday--August 10--isn't far off. His birthday that I have practically forgotten about the past few years is suddenly "looming" again. The other day I drove past the garage where I was supposed to be getting new tires for the borrowed car I was driving the day in July 2011 that I got the call from the OB, and I freakin' lost it. If I think about it, I've probably driven past it before once or twice, and just never noticed. I don't know why I had a flashback this time.

Maybe I'm more sad because I started seeing a counselor a few months ago and it's stirring things up. I'm talking about him more again and even telling my story to people who still don't know, from beginning to end. I always start out thinking I won't cry at all...but I always do.

It's OK with me that I feel this way. Maybe a little weird, but OK. My life is generally good and my husband and kids generally make me happy--little bit of a joke. As my friend says, "Let's face it, kids ruin everything." But of course they also bring so much joy, and despite the hole in my heart, I do feel the joy.

I know that hole in my heart will always be there. I know I will miss him for the rest of my life. I know that grief is not always predictable and isn't a straight line. And still, I'm surprised about the sadness.

Now the Grief Is Blurry, Too

I guess I don't really blog anymore. Life is too crazy and other things are just more important. I'm quite addicted to TV now as well, and when all the things that really need to get done in the day are done, I just want to space out watching reality shows. I'm not proud.

I started writing this last November:

"It's been 6 years and now the grief is blurry too. I thought about Blue on Monday, August 7--the last date he was alive for the whole day in 2011. I was sad and cried a little on my way to work."

So I guess if it takes me three months to even write about the anniversary of Blue's death/birth, then I don't really blog anymore.

I want to keep the blog online, however, for anyone finding herself in the throes of babyloss. Someone at her lowest point. Someone who might feel like death is a better option. Because I've been there. I wanted to die but now I don't.

There's hope. I'm proof. I have three beautiful children and I am ever so grateful.

It WILL get better. You WILL get through this. It won't be easy. It may never be THAT easy. But if you just hold on, you will reach the point where the grief is blurry instead of blunt.

I promise.

(But I'm still crying as I write this.)

Blurry Edges II

(I thought this posted May 9 but it was sitting as a draft for the past few months!)

It didn't seem fair that Eve's birth story was relegated to an obscurely titled post that philosophized on how my past has changed me and the probability of future baby loss.

And so...(this part from the end of the original prior post)

Back to the baby loss narrative. I've got my three wonderful babies. I never wanted more than three, before Blue. I'm not even 2 weeks post-partum, so I realize there are still hormones swirling around my body and maybe a little out of control yet. But I want "just one more."

Just one more to fill that void. Just one more extra baby to balance out the missing one.

I think I mentioned before that I live in a pretty Catholic neighborhood and there are large families all around us. I see parents with four or five kids and I want to be like them. Would I then be the envy of other people like me? My birth experience was wonderful, but it would be more wonderful if Mr. E and I had been there together. It would be more wonderful to have one more chance to see in detail the miracle of what was happening, instead of the blurry edges that I remember now. I mean this literally...but I see the metaphor. Metaphors. I live my life like everything is not quite focused, not quite good enough. The experience of grieving a lost baby--the grief itself and the tears through which you see the world while grieving--also makes for blurry edges. There's a blurry edge in that feeling that not everything will ever be quite right again after a baby dies. Could just one more bring me some perspective?

But then the doubt sets in. Do I deserve another baby? Can my career handle it? Can my marriage? What if it takes me another 14 months to get pregnant? Will I still want another baby almost two years from now? What if there's something wrong with baby? Is it greedy to want another one? Will I deserve it if my fourth child has special needs? If we decide to terminate? Is it OK to end on a loss? When I wanted another baby because of how great the immediately prior birth and post-partum/neo natal experience was? And not because I always wanted four. Four sounded like a LOT of kids...until Blue died. Then nothing sounded like a lot of kids. Am I too old? I wish I didn't have to keep rushing to have my kids. Wouldn't it be nice to have some time to think about this? I'm too old, it's too risky, we should quit while we're ahead. Except of course I'm not. I'm behind in the kid count and always will be. Is this a legitimate reason to want another baby?

I finished a song recently and the last pair of lyrics I wrote is:
I can't tell, why things aren't coming into focus
I can't tell, that if they did I'd even notice

As in most other topics in my life, I am not sure where I stand.

Meet My Baby GIRL!!

Oh, hi!

Biggest news around here is that I am a proud mama to a baby girl! I knew I wanted a daughter but I didn't know just how badly until she was born. She also has an amazing birth story, but the short version is that she arrived on her own time, beautiful and perfect.

Introducing Eve Charlotte, born April 25, 2017 at 8:24 a.m. (It may have been 8:23 or even 8:22.)

(As you can see, one big brother is much more impressed than the other.)


She wasn't due until May 22, but arrived at 36 weeks, 1 day at 6 lbs, 13 oz and 20" long. She's technically a "preemie" but looks and acts like a full-term baby. I haven't worried about her prematurity for a moment--feeling so blessed and lucky about this.

I finally decided to have a midwife this pregnancy, home birth and all.

I initially saw the OB for the first few visits, had the dating ultrasound and another one around 15 weeks due to some bleeding, along with the genetic screening ultrasound and 20-week anatomy scan. After genetic ultrasound looked good I opted not to get any diagnostic testing, nor did I get the MaterniT21 test. I have to admit that less testing=less stress about the baby and I'm glad we didn't do any testing aside from the nuchal fold measurement. My mom was less glad about this, but as the MFM doctor pointed out, "she's not pregnant." So let's just also say that I didn't tell my mom that I was planning a home birth either. And I wouldn't even have had to tell her at all, though I think she eventually figured it out.

The doctors at MFM wanted to monitor my cervical length measurement, which they checked at the 20-week, then asked me to return twice for repeat measurements. I went to the first follow up, suddenly anxious about what the findings might show. My two boys were born at 38 weeks and 38 weeks, 3 days. There was no reason to believe I was at risk for early labor due to cervical insufficiency. At the follow up I asked the doctor, "what if I don't come back next week for another follow up?" I loved his response: "Well, we live in a free country...so you can do what you want." This was by happenstance about 3 days before Trump's inauguration. "Yeah, for now," I replied and we both had a laugh. The doctor who reviewed the 20-week scan also wanted me to have two growth scans, solely based on the fact that my 40th birthday is six days before Eve's due date. The midwife and I agreed that that was strictly optional.

A few weeks ago, between weeks 32 and 33, I got the stomach bug really bad. After two whole days of constant puking and diarrhea, my midwife sent me to the hospital. The maternity unit was so busy that I started to wonder how the staff there could handle all the babies being born. My triage room was near the nurses' station and I heard a lot of stuff about the mothers and babies on the unit. I found it really interesting...and I was glad I would be birthing at home. After 3 liters of fluid I was free to go, feeling much better, though I wouldn't truly feel better for two more days. After Stomach Bug 3.0 (yes, we got hit 3 times this past season), the midwife wrote me a note to cut back on work hours. Which is a joke and I told her that, but at least it gave me the opportunity to ask for a second telecommuting day each week until I delivered.

So anyway, I'd gotten the warning to cut back, reduce stress, otherwise I could have the baby too early. The extra telecommute day was nice for the two weeks in which I got to use it, but cutting down on stress was probably not going to happen. So I think I've foreshadowed this enough, plus I already told you Eve arrived 4 weeks early.

Eve was born on a Tuesday. The Friday before, my water broke. It was just a tiny leak at first. Looking back on it, it started at work, but I didn't think anything of it--a little extra tinkling sound while on the toilet. I went to a court conference in Philly and went home (my office is a little over an hour from home, and Center City is about an hour and a half or more from home, depending on traffic). At home, I felt another little something while playing with LJ. Then another something when I bent down to get something out of the fridge. I was pretty sure I was NOT peeing in my pants. Later that evening it was more obvious. I called the midwife so bummed...thinking about saying good bye to plans for a home birth. I was only 35 weeks, 4 days. She told me to rest, relax, and keep the baby in until AT LEAST 36 weeks. If we could wait until 36w3d, we could go ahead with our plans. She told me not to go to my baby "sprinkle" the next day. (Shocker--I went anyway.) The midwife came over to check me and baby every day, each time assured that everything was fine. I was not as calm about this, but I also knew that I did not want to go to the hospital and get poked and prodded and stuck with IVs and bed rest.

I was also not prepared work wise, thinking I would have at least that next week to wrap things up and pass along info to whomever would cover my work while I am out. The midwife was not pleased that I billed over 9 hours that Monday. But I pretty much sat in one place all day and when I explained that doing nothing would have been more stressful than NOT getting that work done, I think she finally understood. On Monday she revised her assessment regarding staying home, and told me that if I could wait until Wednesday (instead of Thursday), I could birth at home. Up until then, she said, we would probably go to the hospital. By Monday afternoon however, I realized that I was feeling some cramps, in that deep down place where labor pains begin. As the evening wore on, the pains started to feel like mild contractions; nothing painful, but heading in the direction of labor. I didn't sleep well, angry at myself for working that day, for not relaxing enough to stave off labor. At 4:00 a.m. the contractions were waking me up, though they were short and not organized in any sort of linear time pattern. I tried to sleep as much as I could, and told myself I wouldn't call the midwife before 6:00. I got up at 6 with Sprout and felt a little better walking around, then at 6:30 knew it was time to make the call. The contractions were still erratic and only lasting about 30 seconds each, but they were getting intense. As I stood doubled over the kitchen counter, I thought, "owww, why am I doing this? This hurts so bad and I have so much further to go yet!" She told me I could stay home if I wanted to (the hospital with the Level 4 NICU is literally 5 minutes away), and to call her back when the contractions were one minute long and seven minutes apart. She wanted me to try to slow down the process--take a warm bath and some magnesium, along with a sleeping pill--and try to sleep. Because my membranes were ruptured for four days now, Mr. E had to clean the tub before I could get in. I decided to call the neighbor to come over to help get the boys breakfast and off to school. Mr. E didn't want me to call her, saying he could handle it. But I wasn't sure I could. This was a good call.

I had Mr. E call the midwife again just before 8:00 to tell her that the contractions were still short but were pretty regular at 5 minutes apart. She said she would be over. At 8:16 I had my neighbor call the midwife to say I felt the urge to push. We all agreed that I should not push. The midwife would be here momentarily. At 8:21 the midwife called back and spoke with the neighbor. I have no idea what transpired during this call. How could I NOT push? We called the midwife again at 8:25 to tell her that the baby was here. My neighbor and I had delivered the baby. Holy crap!!!!

The midwife was in the room about 3 minutes later. She asked if it was a boy or a girl and my neighbor and I said "we don't know!" We were like dumb and dumber trying to figure out what to do for a moment. Then I told her to put the baby on my chest and we rubbed her with the towel I had been wearing after getting out of the bath. I stared at her asking if she was OK. Then she cried just enough, and thank god I wasn't alone and that the midwife had arrived. Where was Mr. E? Dropping the boys at pre-school! The neighbor called him to tell him to come back and she would take them to school but we hadn't thought of that earlier and he was already at the school. He still got to cut the cord. Later in the day I told him I felt like I missed out because I didn't have my glasses on (I'm really blind--like when the midwife held up Eve right in front of my face I was like, I don't know, just tell me if it's a girl or a boy! In retrospect, I'm pretty sure I would have been able to identify boy parts.) He said, "how do you think I feel?" Oh.

OK, so that's that. Eve was perfect. Everything went beautifully, if not shockingly quickly. I was expecting there to be more pain. When I felt her head coming out, it didn't hurt at all. I didn't tear. The placenta delivered normally. After letting the baby nurse (more like "nurse") for two hours, I got up and took a shower while she had skin-to-skin time with dad. It was a truly wonderful experience, even considering that I labored alone for the most part. And when I told my parents what happened, I still didn't have to tell them that I had PLANNED to have the baby at home. I dunno, Mom and Dad, it just HAPPENED. They kept asking when I was going to the hospital though, so eventually I had to tell them to just cool it, everything was OK. And it was. They took the boys for the night and Mr. E and I got take out from Carraba's and opened a bottle of sparkling wine. About an hour into the night with Eve fussing and us wanting to sleep, Mr. E said, "this sucks." Lol. I was still on Cloud 9 though. What a freakin' day.

Abortion Week

Oh, hi!

 

Let's just skip over the part where I admonish myself for not writing in this space for an actual year. 

 

I'm--surprise!--25 weeks pregnant right now, which makes this "Abortion Week." At the same time a Senate Committee in PA just confirmed a bill to limit abortions after 20 weeks and ban the D&E procedure. There was ONE woman on that committee. There were no public hearings or even any input from the medical community. Then yesterday the full Senate voted to advance the bill to the state House. Thankfully, oh so thankfully, the governor has promised to veto.

My abortion started at 25 weeks, 3 days days with Blue. I think since I am now pregnant at a different time of year, I haven't made the week-by-week comparisons. Until this week. It has really hit me, and I've also been thinking about Chris quite a bit. The origin of these thoughts is that I wonder where are the men in the fight for reproductive rights? Chris so clearly benefited from the fact that I could get an abortion at 25 weeks (I think legally that counts as 23 weeks, FYI), but does he care that this right could very easily be limited in the near future? Or that other men and women haven't been able to make the choice that we did because there was no way they could possibly have afforded a $4,500 abortion? Or they didn't live close enough to a state where the abortion wasn't yet forbidden? What would have happened to them? What will happen to them?

About Chris. I want to forgive him. A few months ago, maybe the anniversary of Blue's death and birth, I felt like I could almost forgive him. Almost...but not quite. I wonder so many things. Mainly, if he doesn't have a living child now, does he think of himself as a dad? I am curious enough about the answer to this question that I consider reaching out to him. I haven't yet.

I have been thinking of testifying before a legislative body or a court in opposition to abortion restrictions. I would really love to be a witness for this cause. I tell my story out loud to myself sometimes on my long drive to work. I fought like hell to get someone aside form a genetic counselor to talk to us after we got Blue's diagnosis. I still find this baffling and infuriating. What the hell did a genetic counselor have to say at that point? Like, we're done with that part. A doctor did step into the meeting with the genetic counselor. I don't recall now if she was a respiratory therapist (actually, that is not a doctor), pulmonologist, or what. I'm not sure I ever knew. But I remember her. What she looked like. Where she sat in the room in relation to us. The expression on her face when Chris asked her, "Does it hurt?" A question I hadn't thought to ask. She leaned her head back a bit and closed her eyes, nodded up and down slightly as she said quietly, "I think so. Because you have to breathe. And when you can't breathe, it hurts." That was it for Chris. It was so cut and dried for him. Chris' feelings, after all, were possibly the least selfish of the two of us. So I think that maybe I could, maybe I can, forgive him. For everything that happened after that. For his different path through grief. For his not being able to help me, and even for his not wanting to.

It's been over five years now since Blue was here and then not here. My feelings about him have changed so much. I don't miss him so often anymore. I don't think about him every day. I don't imagine that he should be part of this family I have now. Though I guess I never did. But the grief--the abject pain of losing my first child--is unforgettable. It still hurts now to think about how much it hurt then. . . . Yeah. I think about that pain maybe more than I think of its reason. That part I never really expected.

The Universe Mocks Me

******WARNING****** period talk below. blood. tampons. jelly blobs. etc.

You guys. As you are aware I have been trying to conceive. If you've really been following along, you know that I am technically always trying to conceive. It's now been 8 months of periods with no birth control, but no pregnancy. After having cycles of 25 or 26 days, then two in a row at 23 days, I had a 30-day cycle. I tried using OPKs starting as if on a 23-day cycle, but I didn't get a surge in the first week so I took another set for another week. I never actually detected a surge, though there were 2-3 tests in a row around Day 16 that had dark lines. I considered that maybe my sample was diluted because after 3 pregnancies I have a hard time holding my pee for 4 hours in a row. I was expecting another 30-day cycle.

So. On Day 23 I started spotting. Light pink after sex. Then brown spotting for 2 more days. I thought, hmm...implantation bleeding? I took a test on the morning of Day 27. Negative. OK, it was early. That was Sunday. We had plans for a day in NYC that obviously involved drinking because when you ditch your kids and go to NYC of course there is brunch and favorite wine bar in the old neighborhood, etc. Yay, drinking.* I decided to test again on Tuesday. I woke up around 5 am because LJ was whining, and got up to pee so I figured why not? By the time I got out of the bathroom he had gone back to sleep. I wanted to go back to sleep too, because negative. Around 7 I woke up to a warm, gushing feeling. Are you kidding me? This is not the first time this has happened! I even checked the TP at 5 am before testing because this has happened before. I'm getting my period on Day 29 and it's starting out strong. With clots. (But it's still brown.) I insert a super tampon thinking I will need it.

Around mid-day I decide I need to replace the tampon. I can barely get the thing out. Which is pretty amazing after 2 (full term) deliveries. Seriously, I had to do reverse Kegels to remove it. And it had a few brown spots on it. I put it back in. By evening I took it out and haven't bled since. That was yesterday.

What is going on???!!!??? I have been trying to read up and it seems maybe I DO have fibroids? Oh, the irony! I suppose maybe I will go back to the RE (with tail between legs). Saline sonogram--let's do this! Clearly something is not going right. We know it took me at least 4 cycles to start ovulating after I started getting my period again following breastfeeding, and maybe up to 6. Then I cycled short, then suddenly 30 days, and now, like, nothing. In the back of my mind I'm thinking maybe my tests are duds. I'm so silly. But they're made in China. I don't know. Maybe they are labeled wrong and are LH tests instead of HCG tests. I made an appointment with my OB in 2 weeks and will see what he days about everything. He's way more cool about things than the RE and I really prefer that angle. Another 2-week-wait.

*I just read that the CDC recommends no drinking at all for women who aren't on birth control. WTF? I know that if you think you might be pregnant, even if the test is negative, then it doesn't actually mean "yay, drinking," but after planning a day away for the first time in at least a year and a half, I was not about to forego a couple mimosas at brunch, followed by a few glasses of wine at dinner like 2 hours later, based on a negative pregnancy test! Also, the article I read about the CDC recommendation noted that most women don't know they're pregnant until 4-6 weeks. First of all, you're not even pregnant during the first 2 weeks. Then, for at least another week the embryo is not even attached to anything. There is no way that a few drinks can invade, like, every cell in your body, including the free-floating embryo. Related: not knowing you're pregnant until 6 weeks sounds like such a luxury.