8+ Weeks (The Dead Baby Blahs)

It seems that the flood of new and painful emotions and feelings has stopped. They are all still there, but not new anymore. It has almost been 2 months since Reid's death. This past Friday was the first Friday evening I didn't spend sobbing followed by spending all of Saturday morning in bed. I don't feel better, I just feel blah. Maybe the weather is contributing. It was been snowing here (yes I know I live in Canada, but it shouldn't be snowing at the end of May) and all my plans for Reid's first few months revolved around hanging out outside while his big sister played in the yard. It hasn't been warm enough to spend much time outside in the last week so I didn't have to deal with him not being there.

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We attended the annual memorial service for babies who have died at all the local hospitals. I'm not sure what I expected, but of course I cried, a lot. They had these little papers for everyone to write notes to their babies. I couldn't write anything, I tried but nothing would come out. Months ago at one of my pre-natal yoga classes, the instructor asked us to write a letter to our babies. I couldn't write anything then either. It's not that I didn't believe that my baby would be born healthy and alive (I fully believed that until the third time the doctor yelled, "I can't get a heartbeat") It's just that I can't put into words my feelings for someone I haven't met. Love is too mild a word for the primal feelings a mother has for her child. I know I couldn't have got up in church full of people and spoke about Reid, so if nothing else going to this memorial has confirmed our decision not to have a funeral for Reid. Maybe a public recognition of Reid's death would have helped some of our friends or family but it would have been far too painful for DH and me and we get to be selfish now.

Not the same

I have been trying to write a new post since Tuesday night, but I can't seem to string coherent thoughts together. My brain is mush. Tuesday night I was invited to a football practice. I played touch football before we moved to Edmonton and had D. I loved playing football so I thought it would be a good way to get some exercise and get out of the house. It turns out that I am not ready physically, mentally or emotionally. My body wasn't strong enough to keep up and running with a big flabby belly was just gross. My brain couldn't remember what play I was supposed to run. My heart was a giant gaping wound. How can I care about a silly game when my baby is dead? I used to love playing sports, it was my preferred form of exercise, now I can't imagine having the mental capacity to do it. It seems like another part of the pre-dead baby me is gone. There really is no part of life that the death of a child doesn't touch, there is no place to pretend that we are still normal, nothing is the same as before Reid.

7 weeks...

I thought I was doing better. I didn't spend all day Friday dreading Friday evening/early Saturday morning like I had for the last 6 weeks. Then Friday evening came and I cried from 8:30 until I fell asleep and I spent most of today either crying or just avoiding the world by staying in bed. I am tired of the grief rollercoaster. Why can't I just be somewhat miserable all the time instead of semi-okay or completely miserable? It would be be much easier to handle and much less confusing for DH. When I am completely miserable, I just want someone to cry with me and he can't do that for me. (He is willing to rub my back or hug me while I cry, but I don't like him watching me cry, it just makes me more sad that he doesn't feel the same way I do.) If I could get off the rollercoaster and just stay somewhat miserable, maybe I could start to adjust to the altered reality of my life. It would be nice if something besides the fact that my baby is dead and gone would stay the same from one day to the next.

Maybe I should stick to the Discovery Channel

I am a soap opera addict. Can't give them up and now that I need some kind of mindless distraction during D's naps I am worse than ever. Even most of the prime time dramas I like are just soaps with bigger budgets so of course I love Grey's. Before Reid, I probably cried at least once an episode but since he died, I haven't even been close to crying until last night. (The big season finale) And it wasn't when Meredith had the miscarriage, no I don't get upset over pretend dead babies anymore. It was when Percy was dying and Bailey told him "You're not alone". It just made me think that Reid was alone when he died. We will never know exactly when he died, but it was sometime just before or just after he was delivered. Before he was delivered, I was just so happy to have the spinal and be done with labor and ready to meet my baby. I was thinking about me, not truly focused on my baby. He was alone inside me. And if he died after delivery, he died with a bunch of nurses and doctors yelling and poking and prodding him, not with someone whispering that they loved him. He was alone surrounded by chaos. Either way, he was alone and there's nothing I can do about it. Just one more thing to feel bad about about in this whole mess. And they say that television doesn't do anything for you...

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I think I am semi-recovered from the feelings that came out in the last post. Not ready to rush to Calgary to see the new baby but not a big angry sobbing mess anytime a stray baby thought creeps into my head.

Thanks universe...

for yet another giant "FUCK YOU!". Yet another friend has delivered a beautiful perfect healthy baby BOY. Yay, another child to watch grow up and remind me of what we lost when Reid died. It's not that I didn't want her to have a healthy baby, but why couldn't she have a girl?

6 weeks and counting

So...today is 6 weeks weeks since Reid's birth/death/whatever you call it when your baby comes out and doesn't have a heart beat. I still want my baby back. I want the 6 week old little boy that should be here with us. There is no clearer way to express my feelings. There have been times in the last 6 weeks when I actually enjoyed myself but they are all tainted because as soon as I have time to think about it, I realize that all those time would have been better if Reid was with me. The best I can hope for is that in the future those realizations will come without an hour of crying my heart out.

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I had my 6 week check up on Thursday. My doctor, who I had never met before we arrived at the hospital in labour, was great. She came in early for my appointment and made sure that the nurses snuck me out the back way after my appointment so I didn't have to see the waiting room full of bellies. I ♥ Dr.K. She is one of the good things that have come out of this mess. Unfortunately, she still hasn't got the the full results from the autopsy so we don't know anymore about why he died. That didn't really surprise me although I had hoped to find out something. What did surprise me was that when I asked how long we should wait before ttc again she said to start whenever we are ready. I was really expecting her to say to wait 6 months and so all the "plans" in my head were based on that. So now that there is no medically mandated waiting period, how do I figure out when I am ready to risk it all again?

No "good" nights

I thought that Thursday was a "good" day. (At least as good a day as you can have when you have a pelvic exam and the last 6 weeks of time weren't erased/rewound.) So then why the f@#k am I awake at 3:42 am and have been awake for the last 2 hours? I hated it when I couldn't sleep in the middle of the night while I was pregnant. I would lay there with my mind wandering all over the place. Thinking about all the things I wanted to do before the baby came, what to name the baby, how was D going to adjust to the baby, how would I function with a almost 3 year old and a baby. I had no idea that it could get so much worse. Now I lay there trying not to break out into huge loud sobs because I should be able to function just fine because there is no baby keeping me up at night. How was I supposed to know that I would end up in a place where I was desperately wishing that I had a screaming baby in my house at 3:55 in the morning? Why didn't somebody warn me that my life was about to be completely FUBAR'd?

I Am The ... Wallower

I spent my 1st Mother's Day as a DBM alone in my bedroom. D was in and out of course but I was by myself for most of the day. I couldn't make myself call my mom and no one called me. Not sure if that's what I wanted to happen or not but it's too late to change things now. After 2 weeks of "being strong" I just needed a day to wallow in my grief and let everything out. I fantasize about letting myself be a basket case for a week straight, but really the only thing that would do is make me feeling guilty for neglecting D. I know I should feel happy that I have a living child and that I am a mother, but the hurt and grief over Reid's death is still too fresh.

After this evening's first big cry I realized something. All us DBM's would give pretty much anything short of our spouses and living children for the chance to have our babies alive and with us. We all have dreams of what we would be doing with our babies and how much we would love and appreciate every second of being their moms. All DBM's can't stand to hear the "lucky ones" complain about the lack of sleep or breastfeeding problems or not having time to shower. But if I had what we all want so badly, for my baby to be here and healthy, to never have been a DBM, I would be just like the "lucky ones" complaining about life with a new baby. I HATE that I would be one of those people and I HATE that I know what it's like to not be one of them and I HATE that I only truly appreciate what a gift my son was because he is dead.

Yesterday

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they're here to stay...

D's Beatles obsession shows no signs of letting up. We listen to the Number 1's CD at least 3 times a day (must get another Beatles CD, damn that whole Apple Records vs Apple Computer fight that has kept the Beatles off iTunes) The only song on the album I can't listen to is Yesterday for obvious reasons. She knows it as "the sad song" and reminds me to skip it if I get distracted and forget. Reid died a month ago, but it hopefully one day it won't feel like it was just yesterday.

The story of our yesterday is here.

Still 1 month

DH didn't realize that I needed to recognize today but I did manage to explain things to him without tearing his head off. (there was a lot of crying though) He now knows that I need to know that he thinks about how long it's been since Reid died and it won't make me more sad if he brings it up. (Really what is he going to say that is going to make me more sad?)

I was trying to pretend I was a functioning human being by buying cards for all the moms and grandmas today. (I had to do it today because all our families are back in SK and the cards had to be mailed.) There were cards for every maternal type person (moms, grandmas, great-grandmothers, aunts, 2nd moms, stepmoms) from every child type (daughter, son, kid, grandchild etc, then I saw " Mother from Baby " and almost trashed the whole card display. Later, once DH came home and I could have a big cry, I started thinking about what my "Mother from Baby" card would say:

Dear Mommy, sorry for dying and messing Mother's Day and all the other holidays for you and Daddy. Love, Reid

1 Month

Reid would have been 1 month old today. I am miserable and alone. (well alone for now cause it's nap time) I told myself that it would be good to spend my first day without DH or my mom alone with D, but that's not true. I don't want to have to remind anyone what today is, I want them to be already thinking about it.

Thanks to my IRL friend and fellow DBM (dead baby mama), L for remembering Reid's "1 month anniversary". I thought that some other people might remember too, but so far there's been nothing and that really hurts. DH had to spend the whole day at a conference today so I can forgive him not thinking of it this morning, but I will lose it if he doesn't acknowledge the day when he gets home tonight. I know men in general aren't big on anniversary's and dates, but DH knows that I like to mark milestones even if they are crappy ones.

I spent most of the weekend reading every blog listed under Stillbirth here. I was desperately looking for someone whose babyloss story was like ours. After reading the history of every blog on there, I found just one that came close. I have spent every free minute since reading her entire blog history. She has turned her tragedy into something positive by co-founding Grieve Out Loud. I am going to "celebrate" Reid's 1 month birthday by writing our story and sending an email to her to thank her for her blog and for letting me know that I was not the only one. Maybe someday my story will help someone else.

Dream

Last night, well it felt more like this morning, I dreamed about Reid for the first time. It was a weird dream, as all my dreams are, but Reid was alive and with me. Of course D woke about before 6 am and that was the end of my dreams. She had to crawl in bed with us but refused to be quiet and let me just lay there and try to remember my baby. I was so mad at her and then then the guilt for being mad at her set in. It's not her fault that her internal alarm clock is set way too early and it's not her fault that her baby brother is dead, but then it's not anybody's fault is it?