Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
In my mind, I was already planning on another one. Before we even left for the hospital, as I sat on the examining table I started thinking that if I got pregnant right away the next baby would only be 5 or 6 months younger than the one I was carrying at that moment, had he been born as 'planned'. You know, alive and all that. I know it's horrible isn't it? It is so callous. I had already decided to move on from the nightmare. Fill in the gap. Make another baby, pretend like it never happened. Life goes on, blah, blah blah.
I know now, I was in shock. I was searching for anything to make the indescribable pain, the unbelievable heartache and utter helplessness I felt, go away. The only thing I could come up with was, make another baby, quick like, then you won't have to be this person, this dead baby mom, for more than a few moments. People will forget, you won't be the "poor lady whose baby died", it'll be a blip, not the exclamation point at the end of the sentence. A new baby will fix everything.
I was so wrong. Obviously. I know I will always be a dead baby mom. I know nothing will take away the loss. That I can't fill the void, not even with a hundred living babies could I even begin to mend the crevice in my heart that has been carved out by C.a.leb's death . You can't fix a dead baby. You just can't. Why then, do I keep trying?
I still hope against hope for a healthy, alive baby. I still hope against hope that a healthy, alive baby will take away some of this pain, that a healthy, alive baby will magically make me 'better'. That a healthy, alive baby will be my "Get out of Dead Baby Land Free" pass. Why am I putting this pressure on myself and worse on another baby? What will happen to me if I never get there? If I never get that healthy, alive baby? How much of my grief have I totally denied by throwing myself back into the "Let's Make a Baby" game? How absolutely crazy am I to put myself and my family in a position to have to relive this nightmare again if things don't go as "planned"....with a subsequent pregnancy?
Am I still in shock? Am I still in denial? Am I just seeing things clearer since easing up on the ah, booze and quitting all the medicinal, umm, aides, but still mentally fucking myself with baby dreams?
That's my new fear. That's the big worry, not that I won't be able to live with this, but that I won't be able to live with the aftermath, the reality of putting all my eggs in one basket. And having the basket get run over by the truck coming round the corner, the one I can hear but can still pretend is headed in another direction, while I stand here frozen, holding all my eggs in one very tiny, fragile basket.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Well how's that for something unexpected to wake up to! Becky over at Mommy wants Vodka, bestowed this lovely award on me, well not just me, but can't a girl feel special, and not the rides the small bus to school special, just for a bit??? Anyway, if you look at the award, the symbols make a sideways heart, so 'less than three' = I heart your blog! How cute is that I ask??
Okay so here is my acceptance speech, which, by the way, the award does not call for. But hey, it's my blog and, well you know, it's all about me, me, me. I am especially touched, not in any pervy way either, that this came from Becky, as she has the great fortune of NOT being a member of our dreaded dead baby club and yet she has been a great supporter of me and many other dead baby moms who write out here in Blogsville. It can't be a fun thing, to read our blogs, but she does it and she always leaves a comment, many times one that makes you smile and maybe even giggle a bit too. I less than three her blog too! If you haven't read it, you should mosey on over and take a peek cuz another great thing about "Aunt Becky", is she has OCD when it comes to blogging. You know what that means??? She posts every friggin day! Sometimes twice a day! I get all proud of myself if I get two up a week. I'm telling you, this lady rocks the blog-o-sphere. Oh and did I mention she's a firecracker? Bring your tissues cuz you'll be weeping and not from being sad, Aunt Becky gives good.... h....humor:) maybe other stuff too, but that's not any of my biz.
Okay so I am going to pass this bad boy on to some of my favs, but you all know I heart you, right? C.,, who I finally got to meet IRL, and is just the greatest thing ever, CLC, who just wrote and actually sent a kick ass letter to the folks over at a certain baby for.mul.a company who were sending her "Congratulations" on her new baby samples of for.mul.a and other wholly inappropriate um, correspondence. Way to go CLC! And to G., who just wrote a great post about women not getting it...but you can read it to see what she had to say, she gets it, in a big way!
So that's it with my self promotion for the day. I can't wait to see this little award on every one's blogs, I know we all less than 3 each other.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
My grandparents took our whole family to Ireland once, many years ago. My grandfather was able to find his family roots there in a beautiful, old church. We visited many of the lovely small towns and counties in southern Ireland. The people were so kind, the countryside breathtakingly beautiful and the weather was cool, foggy and always very damp. I wore new shoes on the flight over and of course manged to get a huge blister on my heel. I ended up having to spend the first few days of our trip with one foot in a sock. It doesn't sound too bad until you think about walking around in a very damp country, with one foot in what became a very damp sock. Not so great. I remember walking home, in Cork, well not home but back to our hotel, late one evening with my brother after staying much too late at a fantastic Irish Pub (if you're in Ireland is it just a Pub? Probably.) and having too much Guinness, with my my wet sock slapping along the cobblestone road, thinking to myself, "some sexy Irish lass I make...".
We ate potatoes, prepared more ways than I knew were possible and the soup! Oh my! I was not a soup drinker/eater when we went over but I converted immediately upon arriving and being served a creamy bowl of wonderful with some fresh, piping hot bread. What's not to love about a big bowl of cream, butter, fresh herbs and veggies, mmmm!
We also got to visit and yes, KISS the Blarney Stone! It sounds romantic and lucky right? We(my whole family) all climbed to the rooftop, lay down on our backs, leaned way over reaching back to hold the iron bars that are there for stability, and then arched way back to lay our lips on the famous piece of stone. It is not as easy as you might imagine and then of course, the tour guides tell you, after you've locked lips with the blarney, that the local teenagers find great joy in coming up and ah, let's say, "christening" said stone with some true Irish... pee. Ick.
We were only in Ireland for a short time and then left the gorgeous green pastures for Scotland. As we flew over her and I looked out my window on what had to be the smallest plane ever allowed to carry passengers and their luggage at the same time, I marveled at the quilt like appearance of the earth below, the many shades of green, all in nice little patches, square like with rows and rows a plenty, covering the ground, a warm cozy blanket, keeping those who lived there snuggled and safe from the winds and fog who visit them most nights.
My grandparents have been gone for many years now, my grandma first, after bravely fighting a nasty cancer that robbed her of her voice and her ability to swallow (despite never having smoked, I might add) my grandfather followed her just 3 short months after she left us, dying, literally of a broken heart, in the days of March after St. Patrick's Day.. All I have of them are my memories, many, many memories though, because of all of the fantastic adventures they created for us. But it is here in March, in the days of Leprechauns and Clovers that I think of them most. And I think to myself that I am indeed lucky, despite the tragedy I have known in my life. Lucky to have been born into a family that surrounded me in love and laughter. Lucky to have married a man that will help me create the same, I hope, feelings in our children as we journey through life, lucky that like the stunning hillsides of Ireland, I too am enveloped, protected, by the legacy they left for us.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
I took on one of 'them', one of the 'anonymous' commenter's, over at Julia's place, but didn't want to keep doing it there so I figured I'd finally get that stuff out over here, where I can rain shit all over the place cuz it's my place and no one is the boss of me. At least not in my mind:0)
The thing is, I am so God Damn sick and tired of holding my tongue, biting my lip, grinning and nodding during others conversations about pregnancy, babies, family planning etc., I want to scream. I don't know, maybe I am at the 'anger' phase of grief? Or maybe it's just too friggin exhausting to sit in the middle of a conversation and feel like I can't say anything because what I have to add is, most likely, going to be a huge conversation buzz kill. For example, "How many kids do you have?" Out loud answer, "2", in my head "Do you mean alive or all of my kids?" or "Did you have easy pregnancies?" Out loud answer, "Yes." in my head, "Yes they were all easy pregnancies, it was delivering my dead son that was hard." or the real kicker, "Oh, so you just have the two?" out loud answer, "Yep, just the two" in my head, "No those are just the two YOU can see, my other son, my third child, his ashes are at home on my dresser.". And I could go on, you all know what I mean.
I know these are just 'innocent' questions. I know the people asking them are literally just making idle conversation, mindless banter. I know this. But for me, this is no longer a topic of mindless banter. Why can't I just give my "in my head" answer out loud? No one is stopping me. Except me. Why would it be inconsiderate of me to tell a pregnant woman, I flew through two pregnancies and then out of no where my third, my son just died, right inside me, just like that. No drama, no pain, no signs, he just died. Why is it not okay for me to say that? One of the "anon's" who commented and subsequently pissed me off, first because hey, I welcome any one's comments, but at least have the guts to leave your name/id and secondly, this commenter went on to compare us, the dead baby mom's, talking about what can and in fact has gone wrong with a pregnancy to another pregnant woman, to someone standing at an airport telling everyone who was boarding a plane that it might crash and other ridiculous analogies like that. The more accurate analogy, of course, would be for someone who is climbing out of the wreckage of a burning, mangled plane that has indeed just crashed, right next to the plane the other individual is planning on boarding, and the victim is saying, "Hey, FYI, my fucking plane just crashed, be careful, yours might too, cuz I sure as hell never saw mine coming." Is that being a buzz kill? Is that being inconsiderate? Is that "raining on their parade"?
I mean, I think it's inconsiderate of people to have, as Julia or one of the commenter's called them, their "shiny, happy pregnancy" conversations right in front of me. In fact, it pisses the hell out of me. I don't really want bad things to happen to pregnant women, but when one is standing right in front of me, newly pregnant, and I know she knows what I have just been through, and she is gushing about her pregnancy and her bad back and oh, how it's going to make this pregnancy so much harder than her others, I do, literally want to haul off and slap her, hard. My hands itch with anger. My mind screams with rage, "A bad back?!, Jesus H. Christ, a bad back is going to make your pregnancy hard??? Can you not see me sitting here, can you not remember that 6 months ago I was way more pregnant than you and you asked me what we were having? Do you not remember that my baby is dead!!!??? That is what makes pregnancy hard, you insensitive b*tch, not your back.!!!!" This happened to me at my daughters ballet class, one of the other moms, who is also a teacher there, is now, surprise, pregnant. She stopped to talk to one of my girlfriends and the above conversation happened as I sat right next to my girlfriend. Really is it that much to ask, to expect, that they save that chat for when I am not sitting there? And the thing is, my girlfriend, was keeping her voice quiet and had actually turned, so her back was a little to me so I knew she was uncomfortable, but the teacher/mom stood about 3 feet in front of me and was just belting it out. I really felt like she was doing it to me on purpose. You know, "Look at me, I am pregnant and my baby won't die like yours did". I know that's irrational, but I really think that. Just like I sometimes wonder, because of my, quirky 'habit' of secretly wishing bad things on others (see my meme) if maybe others wish or have wished bad things on me, (I'm nothing, if not consistently narcissistic) and if they had wished those bad things on me, if they feel good or bad now that, indeed, something awful has happened to me??
But where was I? Oh yea, me, again. So that whole ballet thing, should I have just said, "You know, I find it really painful to have you stand here, in front of me, and whine, I mean complain, in front of me, about your pregnancy, in front of me, do you think you could fucking move???? Why can't I say that or something like that, only nicer?? Would that make me insensitive?? Is that kalakly being too emotional about her issues???
I don't have it out for pregnant women, I don't. Really, almost all of us here are trying like mad or will be soon, to get pregnant. And I know how badly I want it to happen for all of us. I am reminded of a comment Ashliegh made a while back about not liking being around pregnant women and yet she now has to look at one in the mirror everyday. The sad, bitter irony of her words that day broke my heart. Because none of us will ever, truly enjoy a pregnancy again, like we should, because, obviously we know what does happen. Not just what can happen, what does happen. For all of us, should we get there again, it will be 9 months, hopefully, of quiet anticipation, and 9 months of waiting for the other shoe to fall, and then maybe, if we are really, really lucky, a healthy, alive baby. Maybe Ashleigh and Julia have different perspectives on this, they are already there, I don't know, it's just how I see it now.
So maybe the anger is tied up with a bit of envy. Envy that those 'freaks' don't know, or don't have to know. Envy that they still feel arrogant enough to bemoan the "inconveniences" of pregnancy. Envy that they don't say "I'm pregnant" they say "I'm having a baby!" and they do. And also, a whole lot of sadness because, well, we used to be them too.
This whole notion of having to spend the rest of my life censoring myself is making me crazy. And it's not that I want to spend my whole life talking about dead babies every day either. I just want to feel as though what I have to say is relevant, does matter and that I am not reveling in my grief or stealing someones happiness just because what I have to say is different and yes, sometimes painful to hear. But I have to live with it every single God Damn day of my life, why can't they talk about it for one single conversation??? A perfect example of this kind of BS is what happened to CLC when she tried to share her pictures of her beautiful Hannah with her brother. Jesus, if your own family reacts like he did, how the hell can we expect the general public to treat us? We might as well ask for our letter and refer to one another as Hester.
Finally, yes, if you are still even here, finally, what really pisses me off is that here, where we can be open and brutally honest with one another, our one place of true sanctuary, even here, they find us and feel as though they are entitled to criticize. The commenter's, anonymous of course, who say we are dwelling on it, who felt entitled to jump all over Wabi because she had joked, huh, what joked??, about sticking a fork in a pregnant women's belly (trust me if you read it you'll know exactly what she meant) and then 'anon' goes on to judge and lecture us on how to be more gracious and how we should stop all this "women bashing" and divisive behavior. Give me a fucking break already! When we, the dead baby moms are here, in our self created blogoverse, lamenting our isolation, venting our rage at the disconnect, to use Julia's phrase, we feel from the world we used to live in, do not come here and tell us how what we have to say is hurtful, that we are looking at the glass half empty, that we are denying others a happy, peaceful existence by our words and our actions. Comments like that represent EXACTLY what we are complaining about. We can not speak about the truth, our truth, because it shatters your bubble. It makes you uncomfortable. You want us in your world but only if we behave, sit quietly in the corner and shhh, don't talk about the bad things because they don't happen in your world. They only happened to us, because we must have done something wrong, something to deserve it. You say to us, "Join us, just put on a happy face and then shut up. Oh and yea, so sorry for your loss, would you like a cookie?".
Here's what I think. We are not living in your world, you're living in ours. If you don't like what we have to say, hey, there's the door, don't let it hit you on your way out. Now, pass me my cookie.
There, I feel better. Well, not really, but it's a start.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Anyway, I seem to be on the mend so I thought I'd at least tackle the meme Amy hit me with before I was attacked by the hunta virus.
So the meme goes:
Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
Open the book to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the next three sentences.
Tag five people.
Okay, next to me, as I sit at my desk is a pile of magazines, Good Housekeeping, 2 months worth, sigh, I am soo old, but they don't really count as books even though there are "books" excerpted in them, and then under that is.....drum roll please....