Wednesday, April 30, 2008

9 months

It was nine months ago today. Owen was born silently nine months ago this morning. It was a beautiful sunny day like today. I remember wishing it would rain.

There are days when I still can't believe he was here and then gone so quickly. How could I have known how completely this tiny little man would change me? Or the journey he would take me on? I often wonder if I had known, would I have made different choices? Would I give him up to spare myself? There have been many times where, in my grief, I shamefully admitted to myself that I would rather not have known him at all. Slowly, over the last few months, that has changed. Now I can look at myself and feel some pride. I was the best mother to him that I could have possibly been.

Obviously, with anything dealing with pregnancy and babies, nine months takes on more significance than it would ordinarily. However this time, this has been a good thing. Whether it is because it is nine months or just coincidence, I don't know, but I am finally feeling a sense of completion and peace regarding Owen and my time with him. I am starting to give both of us the gift of letting him go. It has not been easy work, but I know in my heart I am doing the right thing. It has been through letting him go, that I have actually started to feel him with me in a positive way. I think we are both happier for it. I gave birth to his body nine months ago, but I am giving birth to his spirit today.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Stork Parking

With warmer weather and smaller clothes, it is becoming more and more obvious to the general public that I am an "expectant mother." As our society has lately become somewhat obsessed with pregnancy, I get a fair amount of attention from strangers now. They are drawn to the bump, if you will. What they don't realize is that I am not like all the other mommies-to-be they see on the street. I am not so much expectant as I am waiting.

The Distance Between Us

As much a matter of survival as anything else, I have kept myself somewhat distant from this new baby. It has not been deliberate, but I couldn't help myself. I honestly haven't spend a ton of time dreaming about who this person will be. Probably because I remained unconvinced that this pregnancy will end with me taking home a baby. I still don't say "when", I say "if." I guess this is pregnancy after stillbirth.

While we were away, I sat on the beach and just stared at the ocean for hours. I think, in those moments, I was able to let Owen go some. I imagined him floating away on the waves and felt peaceful. I felt like I was giving him back in a way. As I sat there, I felt this new baby roll within me. His/her movements becoming more pronounced and for the first time, I was able to reach down and rub my belly and smile.

There by the ocean, I was able to let go of some of the distance between us.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Home Again Home Again

We are back. Got in late last night, so forgive me if this is short and jumbled. In short, it was wonderful. I am more and more convinced that, for me at least, there is something very primal and healing about the ocean. I should have done it much sooner. Then again I probably wasn't ready. More later, now the laundry calls!

Friday, April 11, 2008

Fun in the Sun

I'm off for a much needed week's vacation someplace warm. See you when I get back!

Thursday, April 10, 2008


I had my first real dream about this baby last night. It was so realistic, and in parts disturbing, that even now hours after waking up, I can't stop thinking about it. In the dream, I was in a hospital room by myself. I was in labor. I was concerned and felt like the nurses were ignoring me. So I got up and took a bath. While I was in the tub, the baby, a girl, was born. She was not breathing. I scooped her out of the bath and went sat on the bed with her. I leaned over and breathed into her mouth and she started breathing, but not crying. I was the one who was crying. I felt like I had done something wrong and I didn't want to tell anyone what had happened. So, I just sat there with her, holding her to my chest. Later, much later, a nurse came in and immediately began chastising me for not calling anyone and telling me that she could have died from dehydration. Then I woke up.

I guess it wasn't the worst dream I could have had. However, it's left me with this vague unsettled feeling that I don't particularly like. *Sigh* I wish things were simple again.

Monday, April 7, 2008

The Plan

When it comes right down to it, I am still angry about a lot of things having to do with losing Owen. One of these (which I am sort of embarrassed to admit) is the loss of my "plan." My plan for my life, for my family. I really liked my plan. I like plans in general. They gave me comfort, made me feel like I'm in control. Losing Owen was a horrifying way to realize how little control we really have over our own lives. It still makes me angry. As happy as I am to be hopefully having another baby (see, I can't not include that qualifier anymore), this was not my plan and I struggle with it. I was not supposed to be pregnant again this summer. My children were not supposed to be dealing with another upheaval to their lives. This was supposed to be our golden summer. Owen would be growing past infancy, starting to interact with his brother and sister. I would have lost the baby weight and be able to participate fully with the kids in all their summer activities. JD and I would be able to sit out on the patio after they were all in bed and enjoy a glass of wine in the summer night. It would have been wonderful. It really was such a nice plan...what would have been the harm in having it come true?

ETA: Julia at I Won't Fear Love has a wonderful post up that really speaks to me. Go over and check it out.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008


The first night K and I were in the hospital, around 7:30 pm or so, I heard the familiar strains of a lullaby played over the PA system. It only lasted 30 seconds or so and was played fairly quietly. At first, I thought maybe it was something they did in the pediatric ward, as a way of soothing the little ones around bedtime. That was a rough night for K and we were up a lot with doctors and nurses in and out constantly. I thought I heard it again around 3 am, but at that point I wasn't really thinking about lullabies too much. The next day, K started to show some improvement and I heard it again around 2 pm. And again about an hour and a half later. At that point, I thought maybe it was a toy belonging to a child in an nearby room. Late that evening, it played again and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. They were playing it when a baby was born. This realization hit me while the respiratory therapist was working with K and so I asked her about. She smiled and confirmed what I dreaded hearing. "Yes," she said, "They play it every time a baby is delivered. The mother gets to press the button as they leave the delivery room."

All I could think was no, not every time. No one played a lullaby for Owen. It made me so angry. It still does. Didn't my sweet boy deserve a lullaby too? Didn't he count?