I feel like all the air has been taken out of my sails. I know this grief thing is a cycle, I know it's an up and down roller coaster, blah, blah, blah.
What exactly am I supposed to say to my friend of a new baby? My initial reaction is pissed off, resentment, anger, and friendship annihilation. This is SO unfair. She was stupid, stupid, stupid in her birthing choices, yet her son is alive. It's bullshit.
The news of her son's arrival came a quite a crappy time which didn't help me trying to process it. I'm late. My cloudy brain is keeping me from figuring out how many days I'm late. 5ish? I had been trying to ignore it, but told myself on Monday that I could take a test Thursday if I still hadn't started. Flash to Thursday morning 5am (see, you have to wait til first morning pee....). Husband does not know I'm taking this test so I'm hiding in the bathroom, waiting those 3 minutes, trying to distract myself with my phone. It's during those 3 minutes, that I read about my friend's son's arrival. Then I get to see the negative pregnancy test and all that that conjures up. Too much to process. Crush.
I knew something had to be wonky. I can't be pregnant. The safety over the last month in this arena was pristine. But I need a miracle pregnancy. Crave it, need it, long for it, these words are not strong enough for my desire for some crazy miracle pregnancy.
What the crap is a miracle pregnancy? It happens quite often; I am NOT talking about fertility issues. I'm talking about that crazy pregnancy from pre-ejaculate (ew), the pregnancy from only 100% condom intercourse, the baby conceived from a toilet seat interaction (yes, I know that's not possible. Haha. Humor.)
Let me explain something. We don't "try" to get pregnant. As soon as we let go of the birth control reigns, BAM we are pregnant. The problem with this is my knowledge of it. So we are either actively trying to get pregnant or we are actively not. There is no in between. No "let's see what happens." No easy "hand of God" type opportunity. **To the fertility Mommies who want to punch me in the ovary, I'm sorry. I know I'm whining about something you would kill for. =( **
If I get my miracle pregnancy, it means that baby is supposed to be here. God had to have made it happen, right? So it's safer? So this one will live? So He won't take this one? See? I HAVE TO HAVE a miracle pregnancy. Have to.
But what do I say to this lady with her baby. This lady I used to consider a close, close friend, but now I can't even send her a text message. I want to run and hide. I want to push towards isolation and just slam the door.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Real
I promised myself that even if someone ever read this I would still write it for me. Put on here what I need to put on here and not give a damn who may see the realness of my tender under-belly. So...
Sometimes I am just so lonely.
Sometimes I am just so lonely.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
60 years of grief
I learned last night what is wrong with my husband's grandmother. I say that like there is something wrong with the woman like a cancer, heart disease or broken hip.... But no....she lost a child.....
60+ years ago when a woman was not allowed to grieve the loss of her precious, precious son, a little boy was born. He lived for 10 days. He had a bad heart.
Mitchell mentioned that when Jimmie dies, she wants to be buried back in MO with.....her son. "HER SON!!??" was my first reaction. What son!?!?!
But then I remembered that hot and spicy day during my first pregnancy. 2008. A younger, more naive, less wrinkled and hopeful me is spending time with the in-laws at their cabin outside of Estes Park. I am in my third trimester. My mother-in-law tells us about her brother who died at infancy from some sort of heart complications.
I remembered the horror stricken, full-blown panic attack I had in that dusty cabin bedroom. Well aware that everyone in the little building could hear me freaking out and gasping for air. It was the first time I had ever considered that something could happen to this life I was growing in my belly. The first time the thought had even crossed my mind that babies die. The first time ever that I realized that the terror of caring for another life is LESS SCARY than having no little life to care for at all. Little did I know that my worst fear that day would be coming true 2.5 years later and again less than 12 months after that.
I know that she's had a hard life, although I don't know many of the gory details, but no wonder the woman has had an addiction to prescription narcotics for the last ?? years. No wonder she can be so cankerous and stubbon. The grief has to come out somewhere. Part of me would love to join her on her drug induced cloud of life. Hell, give the lady her pain pills.
I can't imagine trying to grieve the loss of this baby boy, when you weren't allowed to. Even today, people just don't get it. They don't understand that my world is crushed, that I hurt for my children every moment of every day, that I have a hole that I constantly fight to keep from swallowing me. They don't ask about them or me. Everyone just wants to gloss over their deaths. And I'm sure in rural Missouri, over 60 years ago, the glossing started before that little boy was even in the ground. Had he even died yet before people started glossing over Jimmie's pain??
Jimmie, I am so sorry. Please know that Mitchell and I will fight for you to be buried next to your babe. My understanding of you has blossomed into a giant flower. I get it. Even if we can't talk about it, even if it's not a concept I can get across to you through the haze. I get it and I am so very, very sorry.
60+ years ago when a woman was not allowed to grieve the loss of her precious, precious son, a little boy was born. He lived for 10 days. He had a bad heart.
Mitchell mentioned that when Jimmie dies, she wants to be buried back in MO with.....her son. "HER SON!!??" was my first reaction. What son!?!?!
But then I remembered that hot and spicy day during my first pregnancy. 2008. A younger, more naive, less wrinkled and hopeful me is spending time with the in-laws at their cabin outside of Estes Park. I am in my third trimester. My mother-in-law tells us about her brother who died at infancy from some sort of heart complications.
I remembered the horror stricken, full-blown panic attack I had in that dusty cabin bedroom. Well aware that everyone in the little building could hear me freaking out and gasping for air. It was the first time I had ever considered that something could happen to this life I was growing in my belly. The first time the thought had even crossed my mind that babies die. The first time ever that I realized that the terror of caring for another life is LESS SCARY than having no little life to care for at all. Little did I know that my worst fear that day would be coming true 2.5 years later and again less than 12 months after that.
I know that she's had a hard life, although I don't know many of the gory details, but no wonder the woman has had an addiction to prescription narcotics for the last ?? years. No wonder she can be so cankerous and stubbon. The grief has to come out somewhere. Part of me would love to join her on her drug induced cloud of life. Hell, give the lady her pain pills.
I can't imagine trying to grieve the loss of this baby boy, when you weren't allowed to. Even today, people just don't get it. They don't understand that my world is crushed, that I hurt for my children every moment of every day, that I have a hole that I constantly fight to keep from swallowing me. They don't ask about them or me. Everyone just wants to gloss over their deaths. And I'm sure in rural Missouri, over 60 years ago, the glossing started before that little boy was even in the ground. Had he even died yet before people started glossing over Jimmie's pain??
Jimmie, I am so sorry. Please know that Mitchell and I will fight for you to be buried next to your babe. My understanding of you has blossomed into a giant flower. I get it. Even if we can't talk about it, even if it's not a concept I can get across to you through the haze. I get it and I am so very, very sorry.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
No baby says hubby
I'm having the realization that my husband may not want to have another baby. Actually, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to. At least not any time soon. ::crush::
I don't know anything. But that's exactly it. I want to talk about all aspects of going on a subsequent pregnancy journey and I can't get him to say how he feels about it at all.
Of course this hasn't taken over the entirety of his conscious mind (like it has mine). He doesn't have a woman's biological clock tic-tic-tocking constantly, endlessly, in the back of his mind. As a man, he can't possibly have the baby wants; that has to be a purely female thing, right? The craving for a baby. Empty arms.
I don't know anything. But that's exactly it. I want to talk about all aspects of going on a subsequent pregnancy journey and I can't get him to say how he feels about it at all.
Of course this hasn't taken over the entirety of his conscious mind (like it has mine). He doesn't have a woman's biological clock tic-tic-tocking constantly, endlessly, in the back of his mind. As a man, he can't possibly have the baby wants; that has to be a purely female thing, right? The craving for a baby. Empty arms.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Stupid Highligher
Is there no end to the days that highlight the loss of my babies? It's like a big fucking neon marker on the calender, "Today, remember your babies are dead." "Today, remember you should be a Mom to more than one." "Today, remember that they are gone, forever." "Today, let's highlight your gaping wound." "Today, remember where you were last year and how your baby girl was smashing her skull into your pubic bone." "Today, remember that the man you love has been crushed too."
Screw you Calender Makers.
Father's Day is tomorrow. It's easy for me to just gloss over my husband's pain, the fact that he is shattered too. He is just so quiet in his pain while I rant and rave and scream mine to the world (odd how grief does this. I'd never have exposed this much of my pain to anyone before this....). But as this stupid day looms closer, I can feel him shutting down. He gets quieter every day. He doesn't smile as much. I can see the joy draining from him. And I can't do a damned thing.
I am a doer. I want to fix it. So I try to do things. Anything to keep me busy, distract me, make me feel like I am doing something for someone else.
I can't do anything for my husband. Nothing.
Screw you Calender Makers.
Father's Day is tomorrow. It's easy for me to just gloss over my husband's pain, the fact that he is shattered too. He is just so quiet in his pain while I rant and rave and scream mine to the world (odd how grief does this. I'd never have exposed this much of my pain to anyone before this....). But as this stupid day looms closer, I can feel him shutting down. He gets quieter every day. He doesn't smile as much. I can see the joy draining from him. And I can't do a damned thing.
I am a doer. I want to fix it. So I try to do things. Anything to keep me busy, distract me, make me feel like I am doing something for someone else.
I can't do anything for my husband. Nothing.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
No footprint too small
"There is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world."
This is what got me through a large, large chunk of my grief. ("got me through"? Like it ends...?!?!) It is what I cling to desperately with my bloody fingernails. The death of my children would not be in vain. I would do something in their honor. They would affect the lives of others through me.
I need to know that I am somewhere else because of my gut wrenching loss. Somewhere I wouldn't have been if not for Liam and Riley. I want to look at my life and say, "I am here, I am doing this because of them. I know I would not be here if I had not had my babies."
It is vital that they leave a footprint. They deserve a damned footprint! They were too small to leave a big one, it is my job as their mother to really mash it in. Make it a huge print. Make someone somewhere feel it. Create a ripple effect. DO SOMETHING! Help some body, even if only one grief gripped Mommie. Even if I never know about it.
I see these other loss mommies who have gone on to do big things because they lost a little baby perfection. Corrine with her Rowan Tree Foundation, Misty with her Baby boards, Bambi with her endless advocacy, Finley's Footprints, Deb from AWG and the walk. I feel that I have done nothing, nothing to better the lives of others in honor of my children.
I know I am doing things that I wouldn't otherwise, but such ridiculously stupid things. I went to the Color Run. No way in hell I would have done that before. Playing mudd volleyball for the March of Dimes, joining playgroups, putting myself out there to be vulnerable even though someone is bound to squash me like a bug. ( excuse me while the panic sets in from this impending crush...)
I guess I'm realizing that I need people. I spent many, many years giving people the big middle finger. My tendency is toward isolated outcast even if that isn't my ideal life experience and no it doesn't make me particularly happy.
Riley and Liam have taught me that I need to need people (even if most of them are.....a stupid let down and some of them are just throwbacks not keepers). This kneel-inducing experience have allowed me to accept help. Even ask for it. To let my heart be squishy and exposed and not give a damn.
But is that enough?? That's freaking nothing. They deserve so much more
This is what got me through a large, large chunk of my grief. ("got me through"? Like it ends...?!?!) It is what I cling to desperately with my bloody fingernails. The death of my children would not be in vain. I would do something in their honor. They would affect the lives of others through me.
I need to know that I am somewhere else because of my gut wrenching loss. Somewhere I wouldn't have been if not for Liam and Riley. I want to look at my life and say, "I am here, I am doing this because of them. I know I would not be here if I had not had my babies."
It is vital that they leave a footprint. They deserve a damned footprint! They were too small to leave a big one, it is my job as their mother to really mash it in. Make it a huge print. Make someone somewhere feel it. Create a ripple effect. DO SOMETHING! Help some body, even if only one grief gripped Mommie. Even if I never know about it.
I see these other loss mommies who have gone on to do big things because they lost a little baby perfection. Corrine with her Rowan Tree Foundation, Misty with her Baby boards, Bambi with her endless advocacy, Finley's Footprints, Deb from AWG and the walk. I feel that I have done nothing, nothing to better the lives of others in honor of my children.
I know I am doing things that I wouldn't otherwise, but such ridiculously stupid things. I went to the Color Run. No way in hell I would have done that before. Playing mudd volleyball for the March of Dimes, joining playgroups, putting myself out there to be vulnerable even though someone is bound to squash me like a bug. ( excuse me while the panic sets in from this impending crush...)
I guess I'm realizing that I need people. I spent many, many years giving people the big middle finger. My tendency is toward isolated outcast even if that isn't my ideal life experience and no it doesn't make me particularly happy.
Riley and Liam have taught me that I need to need people (even if most of them are.....a stupid let down and some of them are just throwbacks not keepers). This kneel-inducing experience have allowed me to accept help. Even ask for it. To let my heart be squishy and exposed and not give a damn.
But is that enough?? That's freaking nothing. They deserve so much more
Rainbow Babies
I have a new obsession. Hopefully serving a greater purpose than just to distract me from my grief (like anything could truly distract from the bloody hole that just won't heal).
Babies. A new baby. A rainbow baby. I've heard a subsequent pregnancy called a healing baby. HA! Right. Riley was supposed to be that healing baby. Her successful birth was supposed to help us get over the death of Little Liam. To heal us. There is NO such thing.
Yet, I'm still obsessed. We were robbed. Twice. This journey started right after Hunter turned 2. He is almost 4! A two year battle of awful. The crazy thing: we have no trouble whatsoever conceiving (knock on wood, Hail Mary, yoga pose, throw salt over shoulder). Yet. 2 years we have been waiting.
I have a huge "to-do" list of things I have to do before trying this completely insane journey again. I must be on some sort of drug... I've lost my freaking mind
At this moment the 2 things that scare me the most about a subsequent pregnancy.
1. What the hell am I doing to my son?? What is 10 months of insane, crazy, out of this world anxiety going to do to him?? How can I find zen if only for him? Can I fake it?? And if we lose the baby.....what is THAT going to do to my reason for life??
I know that if Hunter wasn't around, we would be jumping right back onto this crazy ride.
2. My supports. I will lose the little support nest that we have been building. All my Loss Mommies. All my sisters in this land of horror. Gone.
I know there is no way I would be able to be nicey, nice supportive if one of them was pregnant. So..... Just gone.....? THat sucks. Who is going to hold my hand as I freak out?? Who is going to read my crazy emails?
And yet, I want this. Like a crazy woman, I want this. Can I just be hospitalized and monitored the whole time? Can someone just guarantee that the odds won't hate me for a third time??? That shit happens. Statistics hate me.
Babies. A new baby. A rainbow baby. I've heard a subsequent pregnancy called a healing baby. HA! Right. Riley was supposed to be that healing baby. Her successful birth was supposed to help us get over the death of Little Liam. To heal us. There is NO such thing.
Yet, I'm still obsessed. We were robbed. Twice. This journey started right after Hunter turned 2. He is almost 4! A two year battle of awful. The crazy thing: we have no trouble whatsoever conceiving (knock on wood, Hail Mary, yoga pose, throw salt over shoulder). Yet. 2 years we have been waiting.
I have a huge "to-do" list of things I have to do before trying this completely insane journey again. I must be on some sort of drug... I've lost my freaking mind
At this moment the 2 things that scare me the most about a subsequent pregnancy.
1. What the hell am I doing to my son?? What is 10 months of insane, crazy, out of this world anxiety going to do to him?? How can I find zen if only for him? Can I fake it?? And if we lose the baby.....what is THAT going to do to my reason for life??
I know that if Hunter wasn't around, we would be jumping right back onto this crazy ride.
2. My supports. I will lose the little support nest that we have been building. All my Loss Mommies. All my sisters in this land of horror. Gone.
I know there is no way I would be able to be nicey, nice supportive if one of them was pregnant. So..... Just gone.....? THat sucks. Who is going to hold my hand as I freak out?? Who is going to read my crazy emails?
And yet, I want this. Like a crazy woman, I want this. Can I just be hospitalized and monitored the whole time? Can someone just guarantee that the odds won't hate me for a third time??? That shit happens. Statistics hate me.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
This is right.....right???
I'm feeling pretty insane these days. Decision making is
impossible. I flip flop back and forth between the extreme extremes
over any decision. And I am not talking about stupid little decisions
like paper or plastic or whether I should have a greasy burger or salad
for lunch.
I go from firmly believing one extreme to firmly deciding on the other. Yes, another pregancy ASAP to hella no I will never do this to my family again. I want to close my "business" (and just...be a mom?) to I am going to hit it harder and make it more and more successful. I hate myself, I am a piece of trash not worth the oxygen I breath to I am a decent mother and wife and can do it all.
I flip flop from day to day and sometimes in the same day multiple times. It makes me feel so lost to not even know what I want. My mind confuses me and makes everything more difficult. Please Crazy Brain, give this lady a break.
I go from firmly believing one extreme to firmly deciding on the other. Yes, another pregancy ASAP to hella no I will never do this to my family again. I want to close my "business" (and just...be a mom?) to I am going to hit it harder and make it more and more successful. I hate myself, I am a piece of trash not worth the oxygen I breath to I am a decent mother and wife and can do it all.
I flip flop from day to day and sometimes in the same day multiple times. It makes me feel so lost to not even know what I want. My mind confuses me and makes everything more difficult. Please Crazy Brain, give this lady a break.
Readers...?
The sad fact is that 6 months after Riley's death, I've run out of people to whine to. People stop talking to you, they run out of sympathy, and you become that woman they know who complains about every facet of their lives constantly. Is that really what I've become?
I don't actually WANT anyone to read this blog. Well, no one who knows I am writing it. I don't want another outlet to feel whiney (is whiney a word?); I feel whiney enough as it is.
Whatever.
I don't actually WANT anyone to read this blog. Well, no one who knows I am writing it. I don't want another outlet to feel whiney (is whiney a word?); I feel whiney enough as it is.
Whatever.
Someone Get Me Off This Hill.
HA! Yep, broken again. Damn the cyclical cycle.
Sometimes I feel that I am working so hard. Pedaling, pedaling, pedaling..... But I never get anywhere. I'm on a bike that only seems to work backwards. I'm so tired of pedaling; my legs are sore. I'm tired of not getting anywhere.
Maybe it would be different if it was just my grief.... But I feel like my whole life is work, work, work and no forward progress. My job, my relationships, my personal growth. Am I just flogging a dead horse into pulp with my endless attempts? I'm tired. I wonder how the horse is feeling.
Sometimes I feel that I am working so hard. Pedaling, pedaling, pedaling..... But I never get anywhere. I'm on a bike that only seems to work backwards. I'm so tired of pedaling; my legs are sore. I'm tired of not getting anywhere.
Maybe it would be different if it was just my grief.... But I feel like my whole life is work, work, work and no forward progress. My job, my relationships, my personal growth. Am I just flogging a dead horse into pulp with my endless attempts? I'm tired. I wonder how the horse is feeling.
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