I don't know

How does one event change your life so much that 7 months later you don't recognize your life or yourself? What is this place and where I am supposed to go from here? Where did all the people that I thought I could count on go? If it was just the crushing sadness (and it is still crushing) maybe I could deal with Reid's death, but it's not. It's that my brain has been scrambled and I don't know who I am any more. I don't know what I want anymore (other than another baby) or what I am supposed to do with my life. I hate all this "not knowing".

A surprise

I sort of keep a list in my head of the things I am going to blog about next. Today it was going to be about my appointment with the counselor yesterday and the email I got last Tuesday, but that's not going to happen now.

This morning D.G. and D scooped out the guts of the 2 giant pumpkins they are planning to carve for Halloween. After D decided to sample some of the pumpkin guts and seeds, I decided that maybe I needed to gather up the seeds and roast them so D could eat them properly. That lead to me being up to my elbows in pumpkin guts when the phone rang. (D.G. was conveniently in the bathroom for the entire time.) I decided to let the machine get it, something I frequently do these days, and I got a big surprise when my brother left a message.

I am an aunt and the universe decided to spare me the knife to the heart because it's a girl. Yes, the baby arrived early. (She was due November 25th) We called them back right away for the details. It sounds like my SIL's doctors were worried about something because she has had intermittent bleeding for the last few weeks and decided to induce her at 36 weeks. (To me that sounds like they were worried about placenta previa but I will have to find out from my SIL later.) Everybody is fine though and my niece weighed in at 7 lbs so she would have been big like D and Reid if she had stayed in there a few more weeks.

For right now, I am not totally okay but as I told D.G., I am less not okay than I could have been. I hope that I can find a way to be okay and be happy about her and even be in the same room as her before she turns 1.

Baby, it's cold outside (and inside and all around me)

This is what I woke up to on Monday morning. I took the picture this morning because I was too lazy to make myself go out into the snow yesterday, so obviously the snow is still here. Now it's not really that shocking for it to snow here before Halloween, but that doesn't make it feel any warmer.

I am officially now at the point of grieving where even the people who are supposed to support me the most, my husband and my mom, don't understand why I am still this sad. Yay, another Dead Baby Mama milestone instead of a living baby milestone. Whoo-hoo.


Edit: I live in Alberta, Canada. But I was watching the news last night and they were talking about all the snow in Washington state so it isn't just western Canada getting early snow.

I know I should be doing more

It's ICLW and I feel like I should have amazing, or at least semi-good, posts for any new visitors to read. Instead I am a big whiny mess. I've had a headache for the last 8 hours, D.G. abandoned me to take one of my friends to the hockey game and my football team was in town today and suffered another embarrassing loss to the home team. (Well, D.G. didn't really abandon me, I encouraged him to go to the game without me since I had no desire to be a huge crowd of people even with free tickets.) The only good thing going on is a Simpsons Treehouse of Horror marathon on TV so I guess that's what I'm doing tonight.

A trip I didn't plan for

...but before you get excited and/or envious, it's a guilt trip.

Hi to all the ICLWers. Welcome to my messed up corner of the internet.

When I got up this morning, I thought I would have a nice fluffy post today about how I finally got off my ass and did something "for myself" as many people have been telling (nagging) me to do. However any fluffy happy feelings have been crushed by a phone call from my mom so it will be a big, whiny, bitchy post today.

While I generally avoid most people's phone calls, I almost always answer the phone when my mom calls. D likes talking to her grandma and I can ask about what's going on with my parents' farm, a topic which does not involve pregnancy or babies (living or dead) at all. I pretty much avoid talking about what's going on emotionally but I still at least talk to her.

Today my mom decided she needed to dump all her worries about me out there and shift through them. First she accused my of not going to counseling which I go to twice a month. Secondly she accused me of pushing everyone away. I had to ask where the line up of people trying to help me was because I hadn't seen it yet. It's hard to push away people who won't come close enough to even ask how I am doing. Then she started talking about God which always means we are going on a guilt trip ( and she is really good at taking me a guilt trips). Lets see if I can remember all the things I am doing wrong on that front: I am not taking D to church/Sunday school, I am not making my husband go to church and believe what she thinks he should believe, I am not being forgiving enough of the "friend" who stopped communicating with me (not that she's contacted me in any way, I'm supposed to reach out to her), I am not thankful enough for the things that I do have and and yes the big one, I am not accepting that Reid's death was part of God's plan so that means that it must have happened for the best.

All of those things make me so mad. I could probably write for days on how they make me angry and how her way of thinking just doesn't work for me, especially the part about Reid's death being something that God decided should happen. I am fine with her believing what ever she wants to about God but she shouldn't be allowed to try to make me feel bad for not believing the same things. She would say she is trying to help, but I don't need anyone making feel any worse than I do already.

And now I am pretty sure that this means that she is not going to be understanding of my feelings at all if I have a hard time dealing with the birth of my brother's child next month. The same brother who has never even mentioned Reid to me, not even a generic "I'm sorry about what happened to you". If I point that out to my mom, I'll just get another lecture on being the bigger person and forgiving him. There won't be any acceptance of the fact that seeing other people having babies just reminds me of what I lost and that it causes me pain. I guess I better start packing for that guilt trip now.

(And will someone please remind of this rant 25 years from now so that I can avoid doing the same thing to my daughter.)

Two things that helped me feel a little bit better

Thank you all to of you for piping up and letting me know that I am NOT the only baby loss mom struggling to get pregnant. In the middle of the announcements (even though they are made very sensitively here in Dead Baby Land) it's easy to forget that I am not the only one who wishes it were me making that announcement. Love (and baby dust) to you all.

----

On Monday, in the middle of my huge "why is everyone but me pregnant" freak out, a package arrived in the mail. I knew what it was immediately but knew that it wasn't the right time to open it. Last night, I made D.G. turn off the TV and we sat down to open it together. After 6 and a half months, we finally have a picture of Reid that does not involve blood and tubes and shock. He is my baby, peaceful, sweet and perfect.

And he's here if you would like to see him.

.

Drowning

Yesterday was the worst day I have had in months. I cried on and off all day despite the fact that I was home with D. It seems like the pregnancy announcements are pouring down all around me, while I got another BFN yesterday. I feel like I am drowning. My support group and the on-line baby loss community were my life lines, now they are the source of the flood waters.


"It's not the despair, Laura. I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand. "

That about sums up how I feel. What is the point of ttc if you don't hope that it will work? I can't pretend that I've got something else more important going on in my life than trying to have a baby. I can't pretend that I'm okay if it doesn't happen this time. How am I supposed to survive what promises to be a painfully awful holiday season without some little speck of hope that maybe I could have the only gift I want, a non-dead baby?



(The quote is from John Cleese in the movie Clockwise. I read it somewhere online in the last while but couldn't remember where.)

(When I had hope that I could be pregnant, I felt happy for all of you out there who were. Underneath all of my pain, it's still there. I just can't feel it right now.)

Stupid commercial

Has anyone seen that stupid Nissan commercial (It annoys me so much I can't link to it here, but just search "Nissan commercial baby" and the video will come up. Basically a woman gets a BFP and her hubby freaks out that he won't be able to keep his 2 door sports car. He then "stretches it out" into a 4 door sedan. I just want to yell at the TV every time it comes on. "Wait you bonehead, don't change your car until the kid is ready to come home from the hospital! Just because you got her pregnant doesn't mean you get a baby!"

Anyone else got a commercial that they hate now that they are a DBM? (I know I also can't stand the i.Phone baby commercials too.)

Random stuff from the last few days

D.G.'s sister came to visit this weekend. She's great, the best part of his family really and wonderful with D. and doesn't get weirded out when I mention Reid's name. But even with that wonderfulness, I can't take more than 24 hours of having someone else around the house. By this morning, I just wanted to hide out in bed and was escaping into a book every chance I got. I just can't deal with having to be "normal" for any length of time.

----

I think I am more mad at the MIL than ever. I did the very mature thing and removed her from my friends list on FB after she thought it was okay to comment on my Oct 15th picture. (Really it always bugged me that in the interests of family harmony I had to be "friends" with my MIL on FB so it felt good to do it and with D.G.'s blessing too.) D.G.'s sister may be able to accept that her mother just does things without thinking about the consequences, but that's just not okay with me.

----

D.G. and I are having problems because he wants me to "try" more, try to talk to people, try to socialize, try to do things the old me would have done. This has mostly been brought on because a group of old friends are coming to town for the Grey Cup at the end of November. (It's the Canadian equivalent of the Super Bowl so there are fewer people and it's a lot colder.) It's a huge party and generally a great time and the old me would be really excited about it. The new me doesn't want to go anywhere near it. (Of course the old me would have an almost 8 month old to BF so there wouldn't be a whole lot of partying happening anyway.) Why does no one understand that to me the world is just full of potential reminders about the fact that my baby is dead? That I can't sit around and talk about "nothing" or listen to people complain about their jobs? That my days consist of either being sad/angry/miserable because my baby is dead or desperately trying to hold it together long enough to take care of D or flooding my brain with the Internet, TV or books so that I can have a break from the other two things. That I have no interest in faking okay for people who have not done anything to support me or D.G. since the initial sympathy cards/emails.

October 15th 7 pm

October 15th

I don't have a lot to say right now except I wish I wasn't quite so aware of why we need to have a "Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day".

It made me cry again

I just read Kate's wonderful speech from the Walk to Remember in Edmonton last weekend, it's up on her blog. This time I got to really appreciate it because there was no 3 year old asking for more milk or spilling that milk or blowing bubbles in that milk, in the middle of the speech. (I know she doesn't need me to send more readers her way, but it is just that good.) Love you all.

Flowers

Just before of all the horrible and painful things that have happened this week something good did happen to me. Last Sunday, the 6 month anniversary, just as I was backing out of the garage to go to my support group meeting I looked out the rear view mirror and saw our doula standing in the drive way. She brought me flowers and lasagna and garlic bread. The food is in the freezer but will likely be supper on Tuesday. The flowers are still looking pretty good.


I have always loved gerbera daisies and now they are extra special because the birth flower for April is the daisy. In fact I have decided that I am going to get a tattoo for Reid and it's going to be a red gerbera daisy. And if I don't get knocked up in the next 2 cycles, it will be done on December 18th! I hate that I have to wait that long, but the artist is a mom with 3 kids and only works 2 days a week. I met her on Saturday and she was really understanding and never said anything like, "It was probably for the best" or "You can have another" or any of the other horrible baby loss cliches. All the artists in the shop are women so no one will be freaked out if I get all emotional and cry. I just have to decide where I want the tattoo and then count down the days. Now I have something to look forward to in December instead of just dreading Christmas. And despite the fact that I am well into my 30's, I really like the idea of freaking my parents out at Christmas with a tattoo.

(Right now I am debating between lower calf/ankle, inner arm or shoulder. Any advice would be welcome. I am a tattoo virgin so I am pretty much clueless.)

Things you never want to read in an autopsy report

The appointment wasn't horrible, well at least no more horrible than going to get an autopsy report should be. Dr. K again proved she knows how to take care of a DBM by having all the clinic staff prepared for me. I didn't have to even set foot in the waiting room with all the pregnant women. There was crying of course, but there were hugs too.

So the report itself doesn't have any answers about why Reid died. There are a couple indicators that might point to undiagnosed gestational diabetes which leads to higher risks of stillbirth, but all my blood work was normal. However, since there's nothing else to blame, we are going to keep a very close eye on my blood sugar from now on. I am going for the less than fun 2 hour glucose test at the end of the month. If I don't manage to get knocked up in the near future, we will repeat the test when I do and then we will do it again at the normal 26-28 week mark. And maybe a few more times too just to be sure.

Coming home with a copy of the report and not being able to stop myself from reading it was way worse than the appointment.

Fun and Guilt-Inducing Autopsy Details:

1. Reid had brown eyes. Not a surprise given that all three living members of the family have brown eyes, but I would have rather seen that for myself.

2. He was above the 97th percentile for height and weight and just below 90th of head size (no wonder I couldn't deliver naturally). Normally you find out these things when you take your baby for check ups and vaccinations, not in autposy reports.

3. He was dressed in a blue sleeper. On one hand I am grateful that one of the nurses put clothes on him. (I couldn't bring myself to pick him up the last time I saw him and he was all swaddled up in blankets so I didn't know what he was wearing.) On the other hand I am consumed with guilt for not having been the one to dress him. Every time I read about how someone spent hours with their baby, bathing and dressing them and taking pictures, it's like a knife in my heart because I DIDN'T. It just NEVER OCCURED TO ME that I would want to do those things and no one even suggested it beyond someone asking if we wanted pictures right after I got out of surgery (when I was just a little in shock). I can spread the guilt around a bit to D.G. and the hospital staff (they are more used to dealing with stillbirths when the baby dies before delivery and the parents are not in total shock), but that doesn't change the fact that I will never have the change to do those things for my son. AND I have no "nice" pictures of him.

4. There were signs of hypoxia so his oxygen supply was cut off before he died. Of course they can't tell when or how he lost his oxygen supply but he did. It makes me worry that he suffered before he died. That during labour he was literally trying say. "Get me out of here, I'm dying!" and no one could hear him. That if I had just told my doctor I wanted a c-section at 38 weeks, he never would have been through stress of labour. Maybe he would have died anyway because life is stressful, but we might have gotten a few minutes or hours or days with him before he died.

I'm sure that there are more things in there what would freak me out but I am trying not focus on the fact that I could know how much all my baby's internal organs weighed. Not really the kind of thing you can brag about at mom's group.

Six months and 3 days later

I got a call from the lovely Dr. K yesterday. The autopsy report is finally done, a mere 6 months and 3 days after Reid died. So there is still no definitive reason for Reid's death, but there are some things she wants to rule out so I have an appointment with her tomorrow. D.G. declared that unless there is some reason they can give us for Reid's death talking about the autopsy is just a waste of time. This led to a less than pleasant argument in front of D which ended with a 3 year old telling us in no uncertain terms to stop arguing. (that was another dose of mommy guilt). The outcome is that he is not coming to the appointment because I am tired of making him do things just to support me. Expect there to be a very emotional post sometime tomorrow after the appointment.

And in case you are wondering a wedding anniversary, an autopsy report and ovulation are not a good combination.

Another day we should be celebrating

Today is our ninth wedding anniversary. We got married on Thanksgiving weekend (the 2nd weekend in October for all my American readers) in my tiny, little home town. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm and lots of beautiful fall leaves. We could not have ordered better weather which is good because it's not unheard of for it to snow Thanksgiving weekend in SK.


Those two people had a pretty good run for the first 8 and a half years of marriage. Not perfect, but still good enough that on their last anniversary her FB status said something about eight great years together. I wish I could go back to last year and warn those people that things were going to change and not way they had planned. I wish I could tell them they would be very different people by their 9th anniversary.

Angry, Angry, Angry.

And this time it is not just at the universe in general.

As the MIL was leaving today, I was trying to do the right thing and help her load up her car and say goodbye nicely, instead of the pushing her out the door. To be fair, it hadn't been that bad a visit until she felt the need to confess that she had "just snuck into the room to look at Reid's things" while I gave her a goodbye hug. (All Reid's things including his ashes are in our nursery because it's the baby room and he's our baby). I backed away very fast and nearly ran away too but stopped myself. I explained that if she just would have asked, one of us would have taken her into the room. I eventually told her that I was upset but I'd get over it and gave her another hug. Then she starts crying like she's the one who has been violated (and that's how I feel) and it just made me so mad again. She left and I went inside to see if we had any spare drywall for me to put my fist through.

I called D.G. and vented and found out that she had even asked him about Reid's ashes while at the park on Sunday. He told her they were in the baby room and then asked if she had any other questions. He gave her an opening to ask to see Reid's things and she was too chicken-shit to ask, but then she had the nerve to go sneaking into the room and on top of that to confess so that she could feel better. (It definitely didn't make me feel better.) I don't know how I am going to deal with her ever being in my house again.

D.G. is ready to tell her that she isn't welcome to come visit again and honestly I'd be fine with that. How am I supposed to try to make an effort to let D have a relationship with her grandmother when I can't trust her to not go prowling through my house? I know D.G. will regret an estrangement from his mother later on, but right now there's no way for me to tell him that and sound believable. She is so freaking dependent and needy which drives me crazy as it is, but this just takes the cake. What kind of a person sneaks into someone else's dead baby's room? I don't care if he is her grandson (and she had to be reminded of that just a little while ago), he's our baby and if she wanted to see his things, she can fucking ask permission first. AARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!

Enough already

Okay, that's enough, it's just not funny any more. It's been six months and I am ready for the giant cosmic joke that my life has become to be over. I proved I can take it. I can survive without my baby, but I don't want to have to. Time for it to be over, to go back to Saturday April 3rd at 1:20 am and change the way things happened from that point on. There will be a squirming 20 lb boy on my lap right now, not a computer. There will be cloth diapers drying on my clothes line, not collecting dust in a basket. There will be hundreds of pictures of him on my camera, not pictures of balloons with messages for dead babies. I will be tired from getting up at night to nurse him, not from staying up late mourning him. There will be pictures up of all the friends' babies born this summer and I will be looking forward to the arrival of my first niece or nephew (please let it be a niece since none of the rest of this can be changed). There will be no talk about another baby and the giant pile of baby crap will be slowly being given away or sold as he out grows it. There will be a bay sleeping in the crib, not a box of ashes. Just make it all be the way it is supposed to be because the way it is really sucks.

Going for a Walk

Today was the Walk to Remember here in Edmonton. It was a beautiful sunny day, the best you could possibly wish for in October in northern AB. I was so happy to see that they had invited Kate Inglis back to speak again. (I just found her amazing words from last year in the Stirrup Queens Creme de la Creme of 2009 list a few days ago.) I even worked up to the courage to walk up to her and say thank you for Glow In the Woods. Is it okay to be a DBM blogger groupie because if it is I will be her groupie. She was very kind and didn't freak out when I walked up to her and started crying before I could even get the words "Thank you" out of my mouth. Overall it was a good day and it felt good to be able to include D in an event for Reid.

Here are some pictures from today:

The note I wrote to Reid




The sidewalk of names




The name we were looking for

Our balloons on their way

Tomorrow, which starts in 87 minutes, will not be such a good day. Many times today I thought "6 months ago, I was ... so happy, so pregnant, so clueless, so not the way I am now."

There are now 3 cakes sitting on my kitchen counter

Is compulsive baking dangerous? I know compulsive eating is bad and that could be a problem with all the baking sitting around here, but so far it's just the baking. Wednesday I baked a huge chocolate zucchini cake. Today I have already baked a lemon loaf and a chocolate banana cake. And I am really tempted to call my friend G to get her chocolate chip cookie recipe (and those I really, really want to eat). I guess I bake to deal with stress as well as when I feel like nesting. Well I guess it's better than curling up in my bed and crying non-stop.

Only 24 more hours until the MIL arrives.