Grief is Funny

I was thinking about something that happened while I was in the hospital after having Owen. After we had said goodbye to Owen for the last time and were getting ready for me to be discharged, I asked the nurse if I could take a shower before we left. I needed that shower for so many reasons. She agreed, but only if I left the door ajar and she stayed in the room while I was in the bathroom. She warned me not to make it too hot and not to let the water run on my chest. She didn't want me to stimulate milk production, I guess. At that point, I so didn't care. I needed that water. So, I got my stuff together. I turned the water on (hot) and stepped in. I stood there, facing the spray, letting the water run over me for several minutes. Then I looked down and realized that I had gotten in the shower with all my clothes on (hospital gowns, bra, socks, etc.) I hadn't even noticed. At the time, I was so humiliated, I cried. Now JD and I can laugh about it, but I always think about it when people talk about grief. It made me blind.


Owen has been gone for six months. That's all I can say about that right now.


* Sorry for disappearing for a little while. J, my 4 year old, has had scar.let f.ever. It was all very 19th century literary novel-ish.

Never

I've been composing this list for awhile now, here and there as things hit me. It's a list of things Owen will never do. Some of them make me cry, some of them make me laugh. All of them make me wish he was here.

Owen will never...
smile one of those big gummy grins
wraps his fingers around my pinky in his sleep
pat my face as he nurses
blow out his diaper and his entire outfit just as I am finally ready to walk out the door
call me mama for the first time
wake me every hour all night long
make me rush him to the ER in the middle of the night
taste ice cream for the first time
run with that drunken toddler run I love so much
draw me a picture I can't identify
vomit in my hair
look like such a big kid on his first day of school
cry in my arms when his feelings get hurt
bring me breakfast in bed on mother's day
skin his knee
run naked through the sprinkler with his brother and sister
tell me I'm not his friend anymore
fall asleep in my arms
make a new friend
hit the game winning home run while I cheer in the stands
fail a test
get all A's
kiss a girl (or a boy)
get a pimple at the exact wrong time
keep me up all night wondering where he is and what he's doing
borrow the car without asking
borrow the car after asking but leave me with an empty gas tank
get his first paycheck and spend it on something stupid
go on his first date
go away to college
fall in love
get married
make me a grandmother
tell me he loves me


The list goes on and on. There are so many moments we missed out on.
Everyday there's something new to mourn.

In the Meantime

Well, as usual, life has gotten in the way of my blog time. K, my 2.5 year old seems to be giving up her afternoon nap (much to my dismay), so there goes a big chunk of my computer time. I've been working on a couple posts here and there, but nothing that I feel like finishing right now.

So, until I can get things figured out again, I thought I'd share something that happened at my midwife appointment last week. I mentioned how I got a surprise ultrasound but I didn't really share the details of how things went down. The midwife very kindly suggested that we take a look to try put my mind at ease for the time being. She rolls in what looks like the first ultrasound machine ever invented. This thing looked old. It reminded me of the old Apple IIe computers from my middle school computer lab (am I dating myself here?). Anyway, she explains that she needs use a transvagin@l probe and starts kind of apologizing for it. I was sort of laughing about it. Once she pulls the image on the screen, I can see the little flicker of a heartbeat and before I know it tears are just streaming down my face. D., the midwife, tries to get a better image and tries to measure the baby, etc. and she's not having much luck.

So then she says, "You know I'm really sorry this isn't a better picture. It's an old machine and I'm definitely not a sonographer."

I laughed and said, "Don't worry, this is already way better than my last ultrasound experience."

Without looking up, she says, "Oh really, how's that?"

"Well, for starters, this baby's heart is beating..." I began.

She stopped and looked at me. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think..I mean I wasn't...I'm sorry, that was really stupid of me."

"No,no. It's OK." I said still smiling.

And you know what? It really was OK.

Well, How About That?

I had my appointment this morning with my new midwives. After the usual weigh in and pee in a cup business, we sat down for a LONG medical history discussion. They were just wonderful- teared up in all the right spots, laughed at my lame jokes, etc. After all was said, one of them said to me, "Well, why don't we take a little peak in there today." I was shocked and afraid. I did not expect to have a sonogram this morning. She rolled in the machine and I got friendly with the probe and......

THERE IS A REAL LIVEBABY IN THERE!


It was bouncing around and most importantly had a beating heart. Who knows what the future holds, but today is a good day.

Dream Analysis 101

OK, here's one for all you armchair psychiatrists and amateur analysts.

I have been having this recurring dream since shortly before I discovered I was pregnant again. Its pretty much identical every time and so realistic that I wake up completely physically exhausted. In the dream, I am at my high school pool. This is not too crazy as I was a pretty serious competitive swimmer back then. We're in the middle of a big swim meet. All the girls from my junior year are there and they are all the age we were then, but I am me now. I'm assigned to swim the 200 IM (individual medley- all four stokes) which was my nemesis when I was competing. All I can think is "I cannot possibly do this - I have a deadbaby." I swim it anyway and it is hell. I feel like I'm dying the whole time. When I finally finish, I drag myself out of the pool and look around. I've won by a mile.

So what do you think?



p.s I have my first midwife appointment later this morning. Wish me luck or something like it.

Sick And Tired

Sorry I've been so lax in blogging and commenting on your blogs lately. I read along and want to comment, but the fact of the matter is I feel like total cr@p and its hard to get anything done. I don't want to complain too much because I am fully aware of just how many of you out there would give anything to be where I am. Its just that morning sickness is way harder to deal with when you've lost faith that it will all be worth it in the end. I remember my other pregnancies as easier, although if I'm totally honest, I've been pretty lucky this time. When I was pregnant with Owen, I had already been to the hospital at least once for re-hydration by this point, but somehow I dealt with it better. I was able to keep "my eyes on the prize" so to speak. Of course, now that "prize" lies about six feet under in the sweetest little white coffin you've ever seen. This time when I'm sick as a dog and I close my eyes, its that coffin that I see and I just want to disappear for a while.

Giving Up?

I went to see the hematologist this morning for my follow-up appointment. She had all my results from the various tests and basically everything was normal. They could find no reason for the abnormal bleeding found in Owen's autopsy. Based on my history and JD's history, we were pretty sure this would be the case. It was still hard to hear the doctor say "I see no reason to pursue this any further." It feels like giving up.

I guess this is the end of the road. I will never have an answer for why Owen was taken from me. That is very hard for me to accept. In my previous life (before children), I was a scientist, a research scientist. I actually spent a few years in a lab sequencing DNA looking for genetic mutations causing certain neurological disorders. In light of this, it feels especially ironic that science should let me down so completely.

So, Owen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm walking away from this without an answer. I wish I could do more for you.

Where I'm At

First, I wanted to say thank you all for your comments on my last post. I really can't tell you how much they mean to me. I hear hope in your words and feel it too. Then I start to think that maybe I really can do this. You make me stronger.


To illustrate where I am right now, I'll share a story. We ended up telling my dad about this pregnancy the other night. I hadn't really planned on it (in fact I hadn't said the words "I'm pregnant" out loud at all yet), but he kept offering me wine and I was getting annoyed. So I finally blurted out "You know, Dad, I'm kind of hoping not to be able to have another glass of wine until at least mid-August." He was very emotional and thrilled. Later in the evening, he made some comment about us having a baby and I immediately thought "Oh I'm not sure I'm having a baby, I just know I'm pregnant."

Am I Ready For This? A Confession for the New Year

So, I've been keeping something from you for the last two weeks. Something I am terrified to share. I think I'm afraid that writing it here will tempt fate or whatever to yank it all away from me, again. But then this morning I decided that hiding and pretending its not happening isn't going to protect me. It won't save me from any pain, just from the support of my friends. So here goes- (deep breath)-I found out two weeks ago that I am pregnant again. There I said it. I am terrified, numb, elated and just the tiniest bit hopeful.

I'm not ready to hear anyone say anything that starts with the letter "C" and ends with "tions", so in the tradition of many bloggers before me, let's just stick with "NBHHY" *




* Nothing Bad Has Happened Yet