Guilt & Happiness all mixed together

Aden is 3 weeks old!!! I can't believe he will be one month next week... That just seems completely insane. Things have been going pretty well for the most part. A lot of worrying, not a lot of sleeping, and mostly just figuring things out as I go. I have been suffering with some flashbacks of Owens time in the nicu and his death, but I am hoping they are mostly under control now. Post partum hormones mixed with extreme happiness and grief make for one crazy momma.

The thing I have been struggling with the most is breastfeeding Aden. I have been in severe pain while trying to feed him and it does not get better with time. I have been told this may just be something I deal with. So, I started pumping along with breastfeeding when I can stand it, but have now realized that I have a very low supply. All of this has led me to feed Aden much more formula than I would like, but obviously I want him to be full and satisfied, so it is what it is. I have been taking herbs, drinking lots of water, and feeding him or pumping every 2-3 hours. It is exhausting and it is not producing any increase. I feel very defeated and like my body is failing me and my son. It hurts me to feed him for 40 minutes and for him to still scream in hunger when im done. I feel very guilty about this. I want him to get breast milk but I can't make it appear or make it Hurt less. I love him so much and I am terrified that if I stop giving him breast milk he will get sick or die and it will be all my fault. This is what I think about when I feed him and I hate it. I just want to enjoy being at home with him as the time is already going too quickly.

On a lighter note... I am very excited for his first Christmas. We will be taking Aden to the cemetery for the first time to visit his brother. It will be an emotional day, but it's important.

Merry Christmas to all of you!

Birthdays and Anniversaries

As I sit here and write this... Aden is asleep in the pack n play in the next room.  He is 12 days old today.  I can't even believe that he's here.  Sometimes I pick him up and stare at him in disbelief because I actually cannot believe that my second son is here at home with me.  No, I don't get much sleep... my boobs hurt like nothing I have ever imagined, and I am an emotional wreck most of the time... but it's the best thing I can imagine.  He is so perfect and so amazing.  At some point I may share his birth story... but to be honest it went so smoothly there isn't much to share.  Other than the sheer relief and joy I felt when I heard him take in a breath and let out a huge cry. 

Aden arrived exactly a year and a half after Owen died.  I know that he was there with us, guiding us and the doctors and his brother so that we could all be together. 

I have gone through some pretty intense emotions since Aden's arrival, and I assume they will continue.  I am overwhelmed with joy that he is here and healthy.  I am also terrified... feeling like I am still waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.  I cry often just thinking about it.  I miss Owen.  I feel many of the same emotions now that I did when Owen was here, and it is just... intense. 

On a lighter note... we had a photographer come and do Aden's newborn pictures yesterday and the proofs I have seen so far have been amazing.  I am so excited to see all of them. 

I would love to share more, but I want to go and look at Aden :) . 

5 Days to Aden

It is November 25, and my c-section is scheduled for 7:30am on November 30th.  4 more days really... 5 nights.  It seems like such an insignificant amount of time when I think about the last 2 years of my life.  Or even the last 4 years of my life.  Even though it is so close... part of me still doesn't believe it can be ok, that he can be born healthy and I can hold him and kiss him and take.him.home.   The first time I got pregnant I was 23.  Today I am 27.  It seems like a lot of years of failing, making a success story seem unlikely.  It has taken its toll on me, my husband, my marriage, my family, and I don't even know that I can contemplate a life after the next 4 days.  I can dream it, and I can wish it, but the reality of it eludes me.  I hope with all of my heart that I get to experience it and actually get to see what it's like to be this person I have dreamed of being for so long.  My dream of being a mother is much different now than it was when I was 23.  I know that a piece of my heart will be occupied forever by Owen, and because he can't be here, that piece will always hurt.  For a long time I thought that would be it.  But Aden is our rainbow and he reminds me that there is peace after a storm, though that peace doesn't erase the pain and the damage the storm caused. 

Owen would have been a year and a half old yesterday... and November 30th, the probable day of Aden's birth, marks a year and a half since he died. 

I probably won't post until after the 30th, so please keep my little rainbow in your thoughts, and I hope with all of my heart my next post will include a picture of a healthy baby Aden.  Thank you!

Waiting

Well.  It is November 13, and no part of me believed I would still be pregnant right now.  I really believed I would be holding my son at this point and I am growing more paranoid and anxious by the day.  I am just convinced that something is going to happen to him.  I need him to come out right now, I can't even explain what it feels like.  I know that right now, he's alive, and if they would just take him out he would be ok!  It is killing me to keep waiting, thinking that there will be a cord accident, or I'll develop a clot, or any other of the terrifying things that can happen at the end of a pregnancy.  My husband thinks I'm insane for thinking these things, but I can't help it.  I just want to be a mom again, to a baby that gets to stay.  Aden has kept me going for so long, and now I just need him to be here with me.  There really isn't a point to this post, just ranting.  Here's hoping I go into labor tonight.

Slam Poem

 I assigned an extra credit project to my students to write and perform a "slam poem" this week.  I have asked them to "dig deeper" and pull out emotions and feelings and to lay it all out there.  I decided I could not ask this of them unless I could do it myself, so below is my own slam poem.  Please know that this is not directed toward anyone in particular (especially not anyone who reads my blog!) just things I've felt all put together. 

Don't Talk To Me

Don't talk to me about miracles
Don't tell me to hope, to think positively.
You haven't been where I've been
You haven't walked where I've walked
Where the entire world comes crashing down on top of you
And you can't see, and you can't breathe
All you can do is hurt and wonder if it will ever get easier
Don't talk to me about better places and things happening for a reason
Your words can't touch the place in my soul where this pain lives
Don't talk to me about moving on, or moving forward, or moving at all
Maybe you should move, and get out of my way
And stop trying to keep me from being the person I am now
I can't go back to being the one you knew before
If that's what you are waiting for
then you should probably go
Don't talk to me about how you "know how I feel"
because of your mom, your dad, your cat, your friend
You don't
You won't
You can't
And I don't want you to.
Don't talk to me about how strong I am
Maybe you could explain
What other choice I had?
From what I remember I did as much as I could
and strength had nothing to do with it.
Don't talk to me about counting my blessings
Go count your own
and trust that I know what I have and what I'm missing
If you think you have a way to make me feel better
to fix me
to make me happy
Then please don't talk to me.

Dear Owen

My sweet boy,

I miss you.  There are not a lot of things to say that I haven't said before, and just that fact makes me sad.  I am sad that I don't have any new memories of you to talk about.  I found an ultrasound picture of you the other day that I had forgotten about and it made my heart happy.  That feeling of seeing something of yours for the first time isn't one that I have often.  I miss your sweet face and your little hands.  I miss things I don't know that I miss.  It hurts me every time someone asks me if your brother will be my first child.  I always say no.  You are always my first child, I need you to know that.  Sometimes, like today, I feel very badly that I haven't been to the cemetery in several weeks, and I hope that you know it's not because I don't think about you every single day.  I need you to know that you are remembered ALWAYS.  There is not an hour of my life that goes by that I don't remember you are missing.  Sometimes I worry because I don't feel you around me as often as I used to, but then I like to think that maybe you are very busy growing up where you are.  I wish I could see you as your 16 month old self playing and laughing.  I wish a lot of things.  I hope you are and will continue looking after your brother.  I promise you that he will know you, and he will know your importance in this family.  As always, I hope that you are proud of me and know that I love you always.

With all of my heart,

Mommy

For my Rainbow

A Different Child

By: Pandora MacMillian

People notice there's a special glow around you.

As you grow, surrounded by love,

Never doubting you are wanted;

Only look at the pride and joy

In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes between the smiles,

There's a trace of tears,

One day you'll understand.

You'll understand there was once another child.

A different child who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes.

That child will never keep them up at night.

In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.

Except sometimes, in a silent moment,

When mother and father miss so much that different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly

And may you learn the lesson forever...

How infinitely precious.

How infinitely fragile.

Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman,

You may see another mother's tears,

another father's silent grief.

Then you, and you alone,

will understand and offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost,

you will tell them with great compassion,

“I know how you feel. I'm only here because my [parents] tried again.”

Shower

Aden's baby shower was this past weekend, and it was a very happy experience.  I was worried that I would be sad for the shower I missed with Owen, and I am, but the day felt lighter than I expected.  It was absolutely about joy, and that's what I wanted.  I am always amazed at the ability of others to be so caring and giving, and having the people I love come to celebrate Aden was an awesome experience.  There wasn't anything that happened that was earth shattering, it was just a nice afternoon, but to me it meant so much more.  I think because I'm always wondering if we will get to bring Aden home, it was a nice feeling to see that so many others believe we will.  I don't know how I would have survived the past year and a half without my family and my friends.  I don't think I would be here today if I was left to go it alone in dealing with my grief over Owen's death.  Today, I am thankful that those close to me do not expect me to be "over it" or believe that Aden will fix my grief.  I am thankful that those people who matter to me have allowed me to be how I need to be, and to talk about Owen when I need to talk about him, and to be silent when I need to be silent.  I know that many others have not had that same experience after the loss of their child. 

I still worry every minute that something will happen to Aden and he won't get to come home, but I do feel like I'm finally in the home stretch and he could actually be here soon.  I am so ready to bring him home I can't even stand it.  Please keep us in your thoughts, and so many thanks to those of you who came to the shower and celebrated Aden with me.  <3

Ahh!!!!!

Ok, so Aden could be here in less than 6 weeks.  I am now 31 weeks pregnant and feeling ENORMOUS.  Aden is growing up a storm and weighs over 4 pounds.  Our ultrasound last week showed that I have a normal amount of fluid (wow), that baby is transverse (laying sideways), and that he was doing some GREAT practice breathing. We scheduled my c-section for November 29th, but I am hoping he decides to come before that!  My doctor does not feel the need to do NSTs, which is kind of a relief to me because they bring up a lot of flashbacks.  I will be having 2 more ultrasounds to check his growth before he is born.  He is a very active baby and this makes me very happy. 

I am having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that in 6-9 weeks, I could possibly have a healthy baby to bring home.  I still feel like that's a long ways away, but when I think about how long we have been waiting, it doesn't seem so far.  I also think about all of the things that need to get done and it seems a whole lot shorter!!! I am so excited and so nervous and so worried.  I just want to kiss his little face!!!!!!! 

Every night I sleep with Owen's blanket over my belly in hopes that it will keep Aden safe.  I know it is silly but it makes me feel better.  I just need him to get here and to hold him.  I try to prepare myself for how that might feel, but I don't think I can.  So for now I am embracing the nesting and trying to get everything accomplished that I can.  Keep hoping for us that Aden arrives safe and sound!!!!

Sad

It's just so unfair that Owen isn't here.  He should be here.  I should be loving on him right now.  But he's not, and I hate it.  Right now feeling like the thought of bringing Aden home is a dream.  I also dreamt of bringing Owen home and it never happened.  Just sad. 

Celebrating and Remembering

I ordered this cake (well, a cupcake cake version of it) today for my baby shower.  I am in love with it.  It makes me happy.  And that's what the baby shower should be about I think.  I've been letting myself get sucked in to a tornado of stress because people can't come, or thinking that no one will show up, and wondering if I should reschedule it for the third time. 

All the while I've been having some very emotional flashbacks of when I had to cancel Owen's shower.  We had already picked out the theme, bought decorations, and sent out invitations.  Then I found out he probably wouldn't live.  I feel like I never got to celebrate his arrival into this world, because we all knew what could happen.  One person brought me a balloon and flowers after I had him.  Getting to meet Owen was still the happiest day of my life, but it was one of the most terrifying as well.  That situation did not lend itself well to celebrating.  The fact that all of our time with Owen, before and after he was born, was lived in fear makes me very sad sometimes.  We have since celebrated his life, but he isn't with us.  Part of me wishes I had just gone ahead and had that baby shower, so at least there would be some pictures and some memories that are happy, and not only the sad ones.

So today, when I ordered this cake, I just decided I don't care anymore.  I don't really care if I am the only person at my shower.  I will smile and take pictures of myself eating cake and I will just be happy that Aden is with me right now.  He is kicking and squirming in my belly as I type this and right now, that's all that matters. I am not going to let anyone else take that away from me.  So even if it's just me.. I will raise a glass (of sparkling cider) and toast to Owen's little brother, my second son, and I will be happy. 

The Rabbit Hole

Yesterday, I let myself go down the rabbit hole a little further than I would like.  You see... I worry all of the time.  I worry that Aden will die from some random freak disorder or accident or something.  But... I don't actually think about what I will do if he dies.  It may seem insane-  how can I worry about something and not think about what I would do if that thing happens?  I don't know, but I just don't.  Until yesterday.

When I was pregnant with Owen... I lived in this space where I thought of what I would do if he died every day.  I did not have the luxury of thinking or saying "oh my gosh, I don't know what I would do if something happened to him".  I had to know.  I had to have a realistic, real-life plan about what we were specifically going to do if he died.  I knew where we would have the funeral service, where he would be buried, and had the phone numbers ready of Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep (the photography service that takes family photos of lost infants).  I lived in this space every day, and it was a deep dark hole.  Most people don't understand that I was grieving for him before I lost him.  I'm not saying I was ready to lose him... I always had a small piece of hope... but I have been grieving for what feels like a very long time. 

I have not lived in this place during my pregnancy with Aden.  A worried place?  Yes.  Even a crazy place?  Absolutely.  But I have not let myself make real life plans for what I will do if he dies.  I cannot do that.  Because I know that it would crush every part of me that I have left.  I know that it's possible he won't come home.  There is no karma plan for people who have lost children... that they are somehow owed a healthy child afterwards.  Life isn't fair, and it doesn't work that way.  No one is "safe" from tragedy.  Terrible things happen to great people all of the time.  But I have been able to shut off the plan-making part of my mind to that terrible possibility for this pregnancy. 

Yesterday, Aden just wasn't moving enough for me.  To be fair, I don't know that he could ever move enough to satisfy my worrying.  But in any case, I was deciding whether or not to go to the hospital to be put on the monitors, when my mind went to that place.  In a mixture of flashbacks and new images, I let myself see my life if he dies.  Having two baby headstones at the cemetery and no baby to hold.  Re-living the impossible-ness of surviving this past year and a half.  And so I cried.  and cried.  and cried.  And I couldn't stop because I just can't make those plans.  I love Aden as much as I love Owen.  And I just can't do it.  So thankfully I had to pull myself together and go into work.  I got to pull myself out of that hole before it overtook me completely.  I don't want to go there again.  I want to be a mommy to my rainbow baby and my angel baby, not a mommy to two angel babies.  There is nothing I can do to change the outcome of this pregnancy, and I know that.  If only all it took to get a healthy baby was to take your vitamins and cut out certain foods/drinks, I would be SET.  But that is not the case.  I have 3 months to go... and it feels like the longest three months.  Please keep my rainbow in your thoughts... and maybe my sanity too.

Here's hoping for a healthy rainbow, and staying out of the rabbit hole in the meantime.  <3 to my boys.  

Day of Hope

Yesterday, August 19th, is called the Day of Hope for babylost parents.  Last year, it was not a day of hope for me, because I couldn't see that yet.  Yesterday felt much different than a year ago, though the missing is still the same.  I cried on my way home from work, and seriously considered curling up in a ball and continuing when I got home.  I miss Owen so much it still takes my breath away sometimes when I think about the reality of what has happened in the past two years.  Not just to Lucas and me, but to our entire family.  Saying that it hasn't been particularly great would be a gross understatement.  We have lost too much, and it seems that curve balls just keep coming. 


But yesterday, I tried to think about Aden, and what life might be like if he gets to come home.  This is where my hope comes from right now.  The thought of getting to put my baby in a carseat to come home from the hospital makes me cry every time.  Small things.  Things that most people get to assume will happen when they get pregnant.  Those are my utopia.  Seeing him breathe,  hearing him cry,  and holding him and getting to be happy, instead of mourning the end of his life.  I hope for these things so hard it hurts. 

I wish more than anything that I could have both of my sons here with me... but that's not what yesterday was for.  It was about looking forward and seeing a life that I can find some happiness in.  Raising Aden here on Earth, and being a parent to Owen's memory everyday.  That is the best case scenario for me right now, so I will hope for that. 

For Real?

Sometimes this pregnancy still doesn't seem real.  Yes, I get happy when Aden is moving... I worry... I go to my doctor appointments... worry some more.  But sometimes, when I'm laying in bed... it just seems like something I dreamed.  I still don't know that I believe we'll take home a baby this time.  Like he's just this wonderful thing I am allowed to imagine, but maybe not to have.  I want it so badly, and I'm so afraid we won't be able to have it again.  I push myself to do what I'm afraid of... I have been buying baby things, decorating, and dreaming.  All of the things that scare me, but I don't care.  I want to make happy memories during this pregnancy... I can't let the whole thing be fear.  I want to "fake it till I make it"  and if I keep acting like I know he's going to come home, then maybe he will. 

I keep staring at Owen's pictures... wondering if Aden will look like him.  He was a beautiful baby and I'm sure he's a beautiful growing boy where he is.  <3 to both of my boys.

Waiting

This week has been absolutely crazy.  I found out that I will no longer be teaching 4th grade, but 7/8 language arts instead.  This is exciting, but stressful as school starts in 1.5 weeks!!!  I had to move classrooms, start planning, and hope that everything comes together.  I'm still in that process now. 

During this time, Aden has been getting stronger and kicking much more.  I swear that every kick makes me happy.  Sometimes I will leave late for work or wherever I'm going because he's kicking so much and I don't want to get off of the couch and ruin it.  I realized that the way I've been feeling, is like I'm waiting for the **it to hit the fan.  I want to treasure everything now because I'm just waiting for the day when something is wrong, and my life turns into a tornado of worrying and dr. appts and ultrasounds.  I know how quickly a pregnancy can go from great to an emergency... but I want so badly for things to keep going as they are right now.  Baby is moving, I am feeling good, and we are just swimming along to our dr appts and everything is fine.  It blows my mind that people can have pregnancies like this.. all the way to the end??? Could it be possible?  I don't know.  I wish for it every day. 

I am going to continue to treasure my time being pregnant with Aden... but I'm going to try and stop thinking about what could go wrong.  It probably won't work :)  But a girl can dream right?  I am hoping that my new grade level will keep me busy and that time will fly by- less time for worrying, and soon it will be November and Aden will come and Owen will be a big brother.  I hope I hope I hope I hope. I hope.

This.Is.So.Hard

I am a flipping mess right now.   I am just cleaning, putting away some laundry, when I just start crying.  I was hit with the image of taking a tiny quilt to the mortuary on the day of Owen's funeral. The wife of one of Lucas' friends made us this little quilt before Owen was born with Peter Cottontail on it.  It was blue and green.  Lucas and I slept with it every night the few weeks before Owen was born, because we decided that if we could put it in the NICU with him, it would smell like us.  We didn't get to put it in the NICU with him, but it is buried with him now.  I don't know why I thought of this quilt at that exact moment, but about 3.5 second later, "Tears in Heaven" came on the TV Radio.  So I proceeded to curl up amongst my laundry and cry for my son and his Peter Cottontail quilt. 

I have been having a serious anxiety attack since we found out about Aden (our rainbow baby)... because now I have to decide if I want to use the bedding I bought for Owen for Aden's nursery.  My husband doesn't understand why this is a big deal.. as he says "it won't be the only bedding he ever has"... and "maybe Owen would like for his brother to have it".  But he wasn't the one who spent HOURS online searching for the perfect bedding. (I have an OCD bedding habit.  I don't really know how else to explain it, but I literally have CLOSETS full of bedding because that's how much I love to shop for it).  I have been looking and looking and looking online for new bedding for Aden, because I had just decided I wanted something new... and all I keep seeing online is the bedding I bought for Owen.  The same bedding I have sitting in the closet in a storage bag.  I love it.  And this just seems so stupid because there are so many other things to think about... not to mention the fact that the nursery doesn't need to be done for probably another 4 months.  But I want it.  I want tangible proof that we are going to have a baby in our home.  I know having a decked out nursery won't mean Aden will get to come home... but I just feel like showing the universe it hasn't broken me.  That I believe in Aden and our family, no matter how scared I am all the time.

And I want Owen to know that his memory and his life are a part of our family.  Though he won't meet his brother in this life, his brother will KNOW him.  And maybe this special thing that I bought for Owen should be shared with his brother.  And it should get to come out and be a part of our new life too... not just sit sadly in a bag on a shelf.  Or maybe I'm just a crazy person who cares far too much about bedding. 

I miss Owen so much I can feel it in every part of me.  And I worry that his brother will look just like him.  And I worry that he won't look like him at all.  This journey of carrying my rainbow is so hard and so emotional, and everyday I feel guilty that maybe I'm hurting Aden by being so sad inside... but then I feel guilty when I'm happy because maybe I'm hurting Owen by being so in love with Aden.  This is just so hard and I wish that there was a way to make it easier, but there just isn't.  Part of my heart is in Heaven with Owen and part of it is here with Aden.  

Hurdle Two

My oh my today was an emotional day.  I sat petrified on my sofa from 8am to 12 pm just thinking of all of the things that could happen at today's ultrasound.  I cried on an off the whole morning and swung back and forth between hopeful and certain that something would be wrong. I put on all of my "Owen jewelery" for good luck. I finally got to leave and go to the perinatologists office.  I was glad to be going to the specialists right away instead of possibly having to have multiple ultrasounds.  I got there and Lucas arrived a few minutes later.  We both just sat there nervously. 

Finally we got to go in and the tech was very nice and had clearly read our file and spoken with the doctor prior to calling us back (this was appreciated!).  She was very careful to tell us that the heart was in the correct place, as was the stomach (these were two early signs that they noticed were wrong in Owen's ultrasounds).  My jaw almost hit the floor when she told us it was a boy, because I have been oh-so-cocky about just "knowing" that it was a girl.  I could tell we were both holding on to our happiness until after we met with the doctor.  We were fortunate enough to meet with a doctor who specializes in ultrasound/radiology, which was comforting.  We had not met her before during all of our appointments there in my last pregnancy, but she was VERY familiar with our history.  I truly appreciated this.  She knew things I had forgotten... like how many ultrasounds it took to diagnose Owen.  She was very accommodating,  and rechecked his heart and abdomen herself.  She also took some 3D pictures so we could see his face!  She concluded that there was "nothing but good news to be had today".  Those words have never been spoken to me after an ultrasound, and it was the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. 

Afterward, another doctor that I had met with several times came in to say congratulations and make, as she put it, a social call.  This just felt so good that people do remember Owen and they DO understand how difficult this is.  She told us that she had spoken with the radiologist before our appt and told her "your job today is not to find anything wrong with that baby!!!"  That level of caring is, to me, very rare in this field and I was highly impressed. 

They told me I could come back in a month for another u/s for reassurance, but that everything looked "great". 

I can think of no better birthday gift than the one I received today.  I got to see my second son.  We still have 20 weeks (or a few less) to go... and believe me I KNOW all of the things that could happen between now and then, but today, I am happy, and I have great news.  I just wish Owen was here too, but I know he was with me today... laughing at me because he knew all along he was going to have a baby brother and I kept insisting he'd have a sister :) 

So much love for both of my boys.  I can't wait to meet Lil Bit :)

Thank you for the prayers and good thoughts, I carried them with me today.

One more week

One week until my ultrasound.  I am feeling better after my trip to the therapist... she is a wonderful woman and I feel more balanced in my fear and excitement.  I AM excited to see this baby.. to know who he or she is.  I get people wanting to wait to find out the sex of their baby, but having the experience I've had, I was so glad that we knew Owen was a boy, because I could think about him, use his name, and dream about the person he would be.  It made me feel closer to him.  When you believe you have your whole life to get to know your child, it might not seem as important, but it's important to me.  Obviously the most important part of the ultrasound will be to find out if Lil Bit is developing correctly.  There could be no better birthday present than for the doctor to tell me everything looks great next week.  Will it completely alleviate my fears? No.  But I think it will help me remember that this is NOT the same pregnancy... it doesn't have to end in pain and tragedy.  I hope every day for those words to be spoken to me next week, and I am asking that you hope with me. 

I will update after our appointment next week, good or not so good (but hopefully all good!!).

Love

I am so in love with this baby.  We are calling it "Lil Bit" for now... until I am proved right at our ultrasound in TWO WEEKS that it's a girl.  Lil Bit has started moving around.  I am so thankful that I can feel this early (17 weeks) as when I do feel it, it is very reassuring.  I can't wait until it's consistent and Lucas can feel the kicks from the outside. 

I really really like my new doctor.  She seems comfortable with my history... she didn't bring up anything unnecessary, but was fine when I talked about Owen.  I am very happy with my decision to leave the other practice. 

I have also decided to go back and see the therapist I saw when Owen died.  I feel like I need someone to listen to all of my crazy rantings and thoughts who gets paid to be attentive and not get angry at me for being negative.  I don't really know what else to do, and I feel like my current level of anxiety is just too much.  I am very worried that when summer school ends, I will just have endless hours to worry and worry and worry (though I'm very glad summer school is over this week!!!!).  I am hopeful that she will be able to help me deal with some of it. 

For right now, I am trying to be content in this moment that Lil Bit has given me.  <3

Me and my crazy

I am feeling very crazy.  When I was pregnant with Owen, I think I had a cold once... and that was the extent of me being sick.  With this baby, I have had a horrendous cold, stomach bug, and now for no apparent reason, my lymph nodes are swollen in my neck.  I don't feel sick... I don't have a fever.  So of course I start googling all of the things that could be wrong with me.  After talking myself out of the notion that I have lymphoma, I start flipping out that I have some rare infection that is going to hurt the baby.  I started feeling very angry that the universe would do this to me and why do I always have to have the rare crazy things happen to me!!  Keep in mind, I haven't seen a doctor yet. 

I just feel like no matter how hard I try to believe that this baby will come home with me, my mind won't let me do it.  I just sat and cried today because I was so convinced that this baby was going to die because my lymph nodes are swollen.  I understand that this is irrational.  I feel ridiculous even writing about it here.  I just don't know how people get through rainbow pregnancies and don't go crazy.  I love this baby so much and I want to get to be its mom so so so badly.  I'm just so afraid that we will have to go through losing another child, and that it will kill us.  I wish that just because we "deserved" some light in our life meant that it would happen.  That this would all go along easily and happily.  Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way, and sometimes, terrible things happen more than once to good people. 

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow with my new doctor.  I hope she doesn't think I am crazy.  And I hope that my stupid lymph nodes won't be swollen anymore.  And I hope to hear my baby's beautiful heartbeat.  And I hope that Owen will be there thinking "what a crazy mommy I have". 

Things I Didn't Want To Hear

Last week, on Owen's birthday, I went to the doctor for my 12 week visit for baby Tomczyk 2.  This was the first time I had seen her for this pregnancy... my first visit I saw the NP, who was wonderful to me and very understanding.  This is the same OB I saw for most of my pregnancy with Owen, until I was transferred to the perinatologists office at 30 something weeks.  I have seen her since Owen passed.  She prescribed me Clomid to try for another baby.  She ordered my bloodwork for clotting disorders and talked to me about the results, referred me to the genetic counselor... let's just say she knows my story.  Or so you would think.

She walks into the exam room and asks "So, are you ready to do all of this again?  It's so soon!  Did you plan to have them so close together?"

Me:  Um, yes, it was planned (you prescribed me the Clomid dummy)

Dr:  Oh, you just never know!  Life is going to be crazy with two kids under 2 at home!!  But you know, once they hit 3 it will calm down

Me:  Stunned silence.  Unsure of what to say or how to react to that comment

Dr:  So how is everything going?

Me:  Well... I am having a lot of anxiety issues, especially this week.

Dr:  Really?  What are you worried about?

Me:  Well, today is my son's birthday, and next Monday will be a year since he died.

Dr:  (Realization hits her face)  Oh my gosh, of course, I forgot!  I just didn't look far enough into the file to see that part, now I remember.  Wow, yeah, these new digital files, it's so hard to get to that 'problems' page.  I really have to search through there.

** Note the lack of apology or compassion.  Also, I don't care how difficult it is for you to look in a file... that seems to be a lot less difficult than walking into my room on my son's birthday and making things worse than they already were. This 'explanation' goes on for several minutes... these were some of the comments that were included, as I sat there in complete silence:

Dr:  I had forgotten the first one didn't turn out like we wanted

Dr:  I think I just try to block out the bad, you know?  That's what I want you to do, too. 

Dr.  At least this time you'll have the Level 2 ultrasound nice and early, that way if anything is wrong you can have time to make the tough decisions about keeping the baby.

I literally said virtually nothing during the rest of this appointment.  I was amazed that a person who had been my doctor through both miscarriages and partially when I lost Owen could say these things to me and think that it was OK.  Nothing about that meeting was OK to me.  How could someone say to me that "at least" I could abort this baby if something is wrong with it... and it "doesn't turn out how we want".  This woman delivers babies for a living, and this is how she speaks to her bereaved patient???  On my son's birthday?? 

Needless to say I will never see this woman again, and she will be nowhere near when I deliver this baby.  I found a new ob practice closer to my house, and have an appointment there at the end of the month.  I sincerely hope for more understanding and just plain decency from this new doctor.  Good riddance. 

This week, past and present

This week has been ridiculous.  I have been having more frequent flashbacks to where I was this week a year ago, how things happened, how I felt.  And this week has brought on its own set of things that hurt.

Last year at this time, I was headed back to the NICU after my one night at home since Owen was born.  I planned on sleeping there that night.  When I had left the day before, he was doing ok... recovering from his surgery, and they were attempting to get his lungs to inflate.  They had determined that he was having seizures, and they didn't know why.  They did not indicate any type of 'worst case scenario,'  it was just something that they would continue to investigate, and he was put on anti-seizure medication. 

When I walked in the room on this day, I knew that things had changed, without speaking to anyone.  Usually, when I walked (or wheeled) into his room, I felt hopeful... proud.  He had been flying through everything the doctors said would be so difficult, and he did it beautifully.  But this day...  he looked different, like he was done fighting so hard.  His hands and feet were so badly bruised all the way up his ankles and wrists.  It literally looked like he had been in a fight.  I immediately asked his nurse about this, as they weren't this way the day before.  She said that it happens, it wasn't uncommon.  I didn't believe her.  Later that afternoon, my husband had gone home to get some sleep, and I was about to go and take a shower at my mom's house before returning to spend the night in Owen's room.  Owen's neonatalogist (a wonderful woman) told me not to leave.  This felt like the first time all day someone had been honest with me.  I knew that it was bad... I just knew, and everyone kept telling me that all the things that were happening were "not abnormal". 

She showed me the scans of his brain.  His brain bleed had gone from a level 1 to a 2 in a very short amount of time, and that they suspected it would reach a level 3 very soon. A level 4 meant irreversible brain damage.  We had to take him off of the bypass machine so that we could stop giving him blood thinners.  His blood needed to be able to clot.  The big giant problem with this was that his lungs still couldn't inflate and he would die without the bypass machine.  They told us they would try with the ventilators, but that it was probably going to be over very soon.  I called my husband, but made the doctor tell him what was happening because I couldn't speak.  He came back to the hospital and we sat... and we waited.  We called the hospital chaplain to come and baptize him and ask for a miracle.  It didn't come.  They weened him off of the bypass machine throughout the night and increased his vents.  I literally stared so hard at his oxygen stats that I thought maybe I could change them just with my will.  We stayed the night in his room, though we couldn't hold him.  They told us we could... but that if we wanted him to have his best shot in the morning with the vents, not to.  I wish they hadn't said this.  I wish, again, they had just been real with us and said... your son is going to die tomorrow, hold him now.  That is what I wish.  We could have had more time kissing his face and touching his skin. 

Soon after the morning staff came in, his doctor came and told us it was over.  We could hold him now, and they could keep him alive on the bypass until we were ready, but that it was over.  We rearranged the furniture to accommodate the bypass machine cords, and they placed my son in my arms for the first time.  It was absolutely heart breaking.  Both Lucas and I had a chance to hold him.  We took our only family video.  Then the photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep arrived.  Then we had our families come in to say goodbye.  You would think we would want to prolong the end for as long as possible.  But we couldn't.  Despite all of the medication, he was still having small seizures in my arms.  He was so sedated he couldn't move or open his eyes.  It was just time to let him go.  It was Lucas, and Owen, and Me... some medical staff and the photographer in the end.  There was not a dry eye in the room.  We told him we loved him, that it was ok for him to go.  They turned off the machines... and then he was gone.  Our son had left this world and we were left lost.  We held him and kissed him some more.  Took lots of pictures without the tubes and the wires.  We got to see his whole face for the first time. 

I remember walking out of there, with no baby.  I remember going to the "family room"  where everyone was waiting... and seeing their faces.  We all walked out together... without Owen.  I cried on the way home... and then I went to bed, and I didn't get out.  The next days and weeks are blurry, with the exception of the funeral.  The only reason I survived was because of my husband, my family, and a wonderful therapist. 

It seems strange to miss this week a year ago.  But he was here, and he was alive, and he was real.  This was only true for 6 days.  I do miss it.  I miss having hope.  I miss talking to him and telling him about his room and his pets and his family. I miss envisioning our life together when it was all over and he got to come home.  I do not miss him suffering.  I do not miss seeing the giant machines that were needed to keep him alive.  I don't miss the alarms and the beeping and the not knowing.  But I sure do miss him.  I miss being a mom, his mom.  And that still hurts today like it did a year ago. 

I was going to write about another experience from this week... but it will have to wait.  I just don't have it in me.  I miss my son....

1st Birthday

My love,

Thank you for showing me what it is to be a parent, and how much love my heart can really hold.  I always knew I would love you, even before I knew you were coming,  but I never truly understood what kind of love that would be until you were here.  Fighting for you was the most important thing I have ever done, and I would go through every second of it again, because you are my everything.  I miss you with all of my heart and I want nothing more than to see you again.  I know that you are ok, I just wish I could say the same for me.  It is really hard being here without you.  I am doing my best because I want you to be proud of me and to tell everyone up there "that's my mom".  I will keep loving you and missing you every second of my life until I can hold you again.  I hope you're with me today.  There is no where I would rather be that with you.

With everything I have,

Happy Birthday,

Mommy

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You Make me Happy, when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I Love You
Please don't take my sunshine away.

The Wall

I hit it today.  I knew it was there, waiting for me.  This past week was the last week of school, and I was sick with an ungodly cold and unable to take anything.  This translated into late afternoons at work and early bedtimes.  I did not stop to allow myself to go back to where I was a year ago at this time.  But I knew it was coming.  I told myself I had to wait until Saturday.  School was over on Thursday, and I had an all day training today.  I knew if I could just wait until Saturday I could sit and have the breakdown I needed.  My brain couldn't wait that long.   It all started on the drive to the training this morning.  Some silly song came on by Miley Cyrus of all people, about missing someone who wasn't there.  And that was enough.  I cried in my car knowing I'd have to turn it off and be ok the rest of the day. 

Tonight I came home, watched some tv, ate a snack.  I told my husband about "the wall" I felt like I was coming to, and it all just came crashing down.  It seemed like for a moment, we were both back in May of last year.... still crying, but for different reasons.  We talked about how then it was all the unknown, the "probably"s and the "but maybe"s.  The hope was almost as crushing as the prognosis.  We would lay in bed at night, telling each other that he was going to make it... he was going to beat the odds and fight it.  We sat and tried and tried to think about something happy about those days.  It may seems horrible that we couldn't come up with anything.  I wish I could say that his birth was a happy moment, even though it was scary.  That's not true.  I wasn't awake for his birth so I have no idea.  Was it happy to see him open his eyes?  Yes, but no.  Seeing your child laying in an incubator on so many drugs he can't move is not a happy experience regardless of the situation.  It's something we were supposed to get through to get to a happy memory,  but we never got through it.  Everything ended there.  We came to the conclusion that this is why we can't think of anything happy right now.  There were times that were hopeful and "happy" for us... but there weren't any times that were happy for Owen.  He never got to breathe.  The only time he was held by his parents, he was dying.  Right now we both agree we can't see past this.  I hope someday I can think about his time here and come up with happy things, but I don't know really.  I want to create happy things in his memory now, and hopefully he will be there with us, and he'll remember those things too, where he is.  We are having a little birthday party for him on Sunday.  I want him to be there... to see his family smile at his name.  To have a day all about him that isn't completely filled with grief. 

Planning his birthday, small event though it is, feels like someone is ripping my heart out all over again.  I hope that once the day comes, I will feel lighter, because the planning will be done and I'll just get to think about him.  I can't imagine this day ever passing without the pain I feel now, but I hear it gets easier. 

 <3  I love you my baby... I hope you are growing strong and playing and laughing with your cousin and doing all of the things that little boys should do.  I wish you were here to smash a cupcake on your birthday, so please do that in Heaven for me.  With all of my love,  Mommy. <3

Lies we Tell

Thanks Piper, for sending this to me.



My mom, she tells a lot of lies, she never did before,
but from now until she dies, she'll tell a whole lot more.

...Ask my mom how she is and because she can't explain,
she will tell a little lie because she can't describe the pain.

Ask my mom how she is, she'll say, "I'm alright"
If that's the truth then tell me, why does she cry each night?

Ask my mom how she is, she seems to cope so well,
she doesn't have a choice you see nor the strength to yell.

Ask my mom how she is, "I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping,"
For God's sake mom, just tell the truth, just say your heart is broken.

She'll love me all her life, I loved her all of mine,
But if you ask her how she is, she'll lie and say she's fine.

I am here in heaven, I cannot hug from here,
If she lies to you don't listen, hug her and hold her near.

On the day we meet again I'll smile and I'll be bold,
I'll say, "You're lucky to get in here, Mom, with all the lies you told!"
Author Unknown 

A random mess of my thoughts

So, I was congratulating myself on the inside for how positive I was being about this pregnancy.  Not that it was all butterflies and roses, but I felt proud of my mental state.   Until last weekend.  I MISS my son.  Like I physically hurt for him.  I love this new little life inside of me, and I know that I have to separate the two if I'm going to keep my sanity.  But why can't I have them both?  Why did he die.... I just don't want it to be his first birthday.  It's too much to handle and I don't know how to make time stop.  I don't want to be a year away from him.  Other people get to keep every pregnancy... all of their children stay alive.  I would have 4 children.  Earlier in my life I might have said "shoot me" in reference to having 4 children.  But I honestly wouldn't care how poor I was or how crazy my life was if all of my children got to be here and grow up.  And Owen was so close to staying with me.  He was doing so well and beating every set of odds he was given.  Until he wasn't.  And I think that's the hardest thing to cope with now... this pregnancy is going along just fine... for now.  Until it isn't.  I don't want to think that way... I want to be positive and believe that this will be the baby that gets to stay. But I've been here before.  The journey hasn't treated me so well, positive thoughts or not.

I want this baby to be healthy so badly.  I need this baby to stay with me and show me that we can have a life outside of this tunnel of grief that we live in.  Already our hope has come back... in waves.  Some days it's harder than others, and today is a hard day.  I don't know if it's just that we're back into May... and I think about where I was at this time last year.  They told me there wasn't much hope, and I hoped anyway.  I cried everyday... but I still hoped too. I was on bed rest, and I talked to Owen every night before I went to sleep, and I told him how many more days he had to stay in so that they could do the EXIT surgery and give him the best chance he could have.  He listened... I know he did.  More than 1 doctor told me they thought there was no way I was making it to May 24th... I had too much fluid, too much stress, and was already dilated.  Owen and I didn't care what they said, and we made it anyway.  It hurts to know that he was still moving around and having a heyday in my belly a year ago.  He didn't know the hurt and the pain that our world would bring yet.  He was just swimming around, happy as a clam, and I miss him there.  I worry about the memories it will bring back when this baby starts kicking, and at the same time I can't wait for it either.

Carrying a rainbow baby is a very.... special... experience.  There is so much hope and so much sadness all mixed in together, and I am glad for it.  I am glad to know my heart can hold them both, even if it hurts like hell... because they are my whole life. 

Hurdle One

Baby has a great heartbeat... 171 to be exact :)  So many more hurdles to clear before we get to bring a baby home... but it feels better to have one behind us.  We know that Owen was with us today and was getting excited about being a big brother.  Thanks for the support and the prayers. 

<3 <3 <3

Panic

My ultrasound is tomorrow. Can't breathe. My entire body hurts because all of my muscles are in knots, and I don't know what to do. I keep trying to breathe in and out... Ugh, I just want there to be a heartbeat, I just can't stop thinking the worst. I love this baby so much I just want to know she's ok. Pray, cross your fingers, knock on wood, something for me and baby tomorrow.

Approaching

It amazes me that I am approaching Owen's first birthday, and first angelversary.  For some reason I have been talking about it a lot in the past week and it just seems so surreal.  I feel like there is nothing I can do that is good enough for him.  I know so many amazing mothers doing amazing things in their child's memory, and I really want to do that too.  My goal for this year was just to survive.  I really didn't think of much beyond that.  Every month I decorate Owen's grave for the upcoming holiday, and I started making his garden area in the back yard,  and that is it.  It kind of makes me feel ashamed of myself.  There are things that I want to do... I want to have a blood drive in his honor... I want to help other parents who have lost their children.  I just haven't gotten there yet.  So I am setting the goal today, that by his birthday next year,  I will have made one of these things a reality. 

Thinking about his first birthday makes me cry... a lot.  I don't want to buy a cake he can't have.  I don't want to buy balloons to release to Heaven instead of for him to play with.  It kills me that I don't know what he would look like now.  I only have 6 day old Owen.  It hurts like nothing I have ever experienced... to feel like I don't know my son... who he is, where he is, what he looks like.  His little personality would be coming out and I am missing all of it.  It is so cruel to know that he is growing up somewhere that I can't be.   I would do anything if I could just see him and tell him that I love him. 

My heart is in Heaven with you tonight.  I love you.

Short Term vs. Long Term

Well, I am on my way to 6 weeks.  This is not very far along in the scheme of things, but it is further than I got with my first two pregnancies, and... so far, so good.  I have my nightly cocktail of progesterone and aspirin and vitamins and just keep on keepin on.  I have found that I feel very differently than I thought I would.  If I think about things in the short term (i.e. my first ultra sound, doctor's appointments, etc)  I freak out.  I don't want to go to the ultrasound.  I want someone else to go for me, and let me know how it turns out.  I don't want to sit in the waiting room worrying that they aren't going to be able to find a heartbeat.  It's overwhelming.  I keep asking Owen to please watch over his sibling. 

If I think about things in the long term (i.e. after the baby is born, decorating a nursery, going to the park, having sleepovers, etc etc)  I am good.  Those things make me happy, and they no longer feel like "jinxing" anything.  The long term thoughts are the ones that keep my heart rate down where it belongs.  I just keep telling myself that despite my experiences, most people have healthy children.  Having your child die is NOT the norm, even though it feels like it.  I know there are a million things that could go wrong, and sometimes it seems amazing that any child makes it into this world... but I just can't think about it.  I keep telling this baby that she (yes, I've decided it's a girl, and won't change my mind unless I see that "It's a Boy" ultrasound) is going to be perfect and beautiful and healthy. 

I won't find out my official due date until my ultrasound on April 19th, but it will be sometime around December 2nd.  It seems very far away right now... but when I think about how inhumanly fast the past year has gone, I know that it will be here soon enough.  I try to keep my thoughts in December... thinking about my healthy baby and how happy Owen will be to be a big brother.  It hurts me to know that this child will grow up not knowing him... but I know we will insure that he is always always always part of our family.... everyday.  I am walking the path of missing him and being hopeful for this new baby. 

A Rainbow of My Own

This is still so new that I think I might be dreaming, but I have peed on enough sticks to confirm that I am pregnant.  There are so many things that I feel right now, that I don't know how my head isn't exploding off of my body.  I swore up and down that if I got pregnant again, I wouldn't tell anyone until I absolutely had to.  I was convinced that not sharing it would somehow lessen the blow that would occur if something bad happened.  And you know what?  Screw that.  Not that I'm going to shout it from rooftops or anything, but I just feel like so many of my family members and friends have been there for me and listened to all of the heartbreaking news that I have had to report in the last year, that I will be damned if I wait to share something happy.  And this is... happy.  I have decided that if something bad does happen... if we lose another child... that will be devastating regardless of who knows about it or not.  Other people sharing in my pain will not make my pain better or worse.  So ya, those of you who read my blog, you have been there for me and seen me through the darkest days and hours of my life.  So I share this happiness with you.  Yesterday was the happiest day of my new life.  My life after it was changed by Owen.  I know that there are over a million things that could go wrong.  I am resigned to the fact that I cannot humanly worry about all of them.  I feel like I have lived the last two days of my life... not just survived them.  I am determined to accept that it is ok for me to feel happy about this.  It is ok if I tell people.  I don't think I am "jinxing" it... for there it nothing to "jinx".  Whatever will happen will happen, and I can only do my best at giving this baby a safe place to grow and to cut down my stress as much as possible.  I do not know how long I can keep this zen-like attitude, but it works today.  I miss Owen so heart-breakingly much that I can't even describe it.  I miss him and I am so freaking sad that he isn't here with me today, his 10-month birthday.  I am so sad that I do not get the chance to watch him grow up.  But for the first time in almost a year... I have some hope, and it has come in the form of a rainbow... and I just know that Owen is feeling happy today too.  Please keep this baby in your thoughts, and think of nothing but health and love.  I thank you for the support you have given... and I can promise you that this will not be an "easy" or carefree pregnancy, and I may need you all to help me find my sanity.  But for today... please share my happiness.  <3 to all of you, and most of all, love to my beautiful angel Owen. 

** Disclaimer--  If you work at West Park... please keep this under wraps as I am not ready to have my pregnancy announced over the loudspeaker during morning announcements.  Thanks!!

Soul Mates

I don't really believe in "soul mates" as far as a man and a woman being the only right person for one another.  I believe that there are many people one could end up with, and it is your decisions that matter and decide the path you go down.  That being said, I believe that Owen is my soul mate.  Lucas' too.  That feeling of someone being absolutely "mine"... and completely belonging to someone else.  He had me from the moment I saw the two pink lines.  I was his.  When I saw him open his eyes and look at me... I have never felt anything like I felt at that moment.  The magnitude of having a child that you created... together... is absolutely unreal.  I know that all of our decisions for Owen came from a place of absolutely unending love, and I hope with all of my might that Owen knows that.  I feel like he does.  I feel like he knows that we did everything in our power to keep him, and that we tried so hard to give him peace when he left his body.  I hope that in Heaven, he still feels connected to us in a powerful way, the way that we feel connected to him. 

All of my heart is with my boy tonight.  <3

...

God I miss him.

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When you lose your child... you lose the ability to say "ugh, today was the worst day ever".  It isn't.  You know it isn't.  It isn't even close to the worst day ever.  But today was a very bad day.  It even makes the top 10 list of bad days... and believe me, that is saying something.  Today I found out I am not pregnant.  Again.  And I am out of Clomid... and if I take it again I will be going over the 6 month recommendation of the medical community.  I honestly really haven't thought of this day.  I put everything I had into the last 4 months... all of my hope rested there.  I was CERTAIN we would get pregnant.  So certain, I refused to think of the alternative.  Where would we be if it didn't work?  And here I am.  In this place.  With no good options.  Do we go to more aggressive treatment, which we always said we wouldn't do?  Do we give up on having a child of our own and hope that an adoption works out for us within the next couple of years?  Thinking about 2 more years without the hope of a child makes me want to crawl in a dark hole and never come out.  I just keep thinking... what if Owen was it for me?  He's gone and I can't hold him, and what if that is all there is for my life?  If he had lived... that would have been enough.  I could have been happy just loving him.  But what do I do now?  I didn't think I could get any lower than I was... and yet here I am.

Dark Spaces

I have been struggling with flashbacks.  Some would say that I am suffering from PTSD.  This may be the case.  I really don't care what it's called... it what is happening.  And it sucks.  These flashes take me to the darkest places of my life.  Some of them I don't even remember until that moment.  Others I replay over and over like a movie reel of my worst nightmare.  It sneaks up on me.  Sometimes I am singing along to Taylor Swift in the car.   Then I am at the cemetery watching two men put my son into the ground.  I am walking into the chapel and seeing a casket far tinier than it was in my imagination.  I am in the NICU and my son is hooked up to 7 thousand wires to try and find out why he is having seizures.  I am in a private room because I was swearing in the hallway of the hospital and disturbing the other parents, because they just told me we were out of options.  I am tuning out the doctor who is trying to talk to me while I'm holding my son for the first and last time.  I am in the hospital at the end of April listening to a doctor tell me that if I deliver my sweet precious boy that day... he has a 0% chance of surviving.  I am seeing the doctor check his pulse and telling us he is gone.  I am picking out a burial plot, trying to decide where Owen might like best.  I am talking to Owen in my belly on bed rest.  Telling him how many more days he has to stay in there to give him the best shot we had.  I am sitting at the hospital on delivery day, and the anesthesiologist is telling me that if he dies right away, they won't be able to bring me out of it to say goodbye. 

I am trying so hard to get some control in my life... and it feels like the powers that be don't care how hard I am trying.  Life just keeps getting more difficult and no one sees that I can't take one more thing or I am going to drown.  I am trying everyday to be positive and be hopeful.  And I am constantly sucked back to those days, to the most horrible moments of my existence... which unfortunately are intermingled with the absolute best moments of my existence.  I don't know how to reconcile this. I don't know how to live with it yet.  I don't know how to separate the light spaces from the dark spaces.

Sweet baby,

I miss you so much. I cry and I cry and I just wish I could hold you again. I would give anything for us to be together. I want to know where you are and what you look like now and what you're doing and what your laugh sounds like. Will I ever get these things? It just feels like my heart is so full of love and it hurts because I can't give it to you. It just sits there and I want you to know how much you are loved and how badly I wanted you. You were supposed to get to grow up and go fishing with your dad and I was going to make you waffles on sundays. I could imagine you and I having conversations in the morning before your dad got up and I was so excited to get to know you and your sense of humor. I don't know why we didn't get to have that. I don't know why you had to leave. 8 months ago today, you were still alive and I could touch you and smell you and talk to you. And now you're gone. The finality of it all takes my breath away. I guess there's nothing new to say, I love you, I miss you always. Sunday is your 8 month angelversary... I will eat waffles and I will hope you're with me.

Love,
Your Mom

Medium

So on Friday night, I went to see a medium.  It was a group of about 12 people, so it wasn't a private session or anything.  I know many may have thoughts or judgments about me believing in mediums, psychics, what-have-you, but I believed in all of it long before I lost Owen (i.e. those people should keep their comments to themselves).  I was very anxious for this session because I so wanted it to leave me feeling a bit lighter.  I was also prepared for the fact that it may not do anything for me. 

I am glad to say that it was a very positive experience.  Again, there were about 12 people in the group, so I got about 10-15 minutes of reading just for me, but I just feel better.  I would absolutely do it again in a private session.  I am not going to go into detail about what was said to me, but everything was full of hope and beauty and love.  I feel more hopeful today than I have felt in a year.  We found out in January of last year that something was wrong... and I have been living in my own personal hell since that day.  My son brought so much into my life, and when he left, my heart went with him to Heaven.  Last night was the first time since he died that I felt like I was a mother, and that someone else could see that I was a mother.  She could see my love for him and his love for me. 

Today has been the best day for my husband and I in a long time. He did not go with me last night, but I know he can feel my new sense of hope.  I feel like some of the weight of my constant grief has been lifted. It is still there, and this experience of course does not make me miss Owen less, or make my anger go away, but I feel like it's less heavy.  I can breathe without feeling like there is a boulder sitting on my chest. 

Many tears were cried last night... and even as I write this... but I feel for the first time like the tears are not only for my despair, but for my love too.  

I hope that this feeling lasts, but I'll take what I can get for now. 

Trying

I have taken a bit of a hiatus from the blog since New Years. I wish I could write that I had some philosophical purpose for this... like I was using this time for reflection or to start the New Year off the right way, but I can say no such thing. I just....I just felt like writing wasn't bringing Owen back to me, so why bother. I have felt more alone lately than I have ever in my life. I have tried to put things in place so that we can "move on" (I'm not really sure what that even means), but it's not making me feel any better inside.

We have been trying to get pregnant. I haven't told many people this... mostly because I don't want people to ask me if I'm pregnant (so if you know me in real life... please don't ask me how it's going). I struggled with infertility for 3 years before I got Owen. I do not, under any circumstances, believe that it will be any easier this time around. One would think that if the universe was fair... it would just be easier this time. It's not. Failed cycle after failed cycle. It hurts every single time. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am an insane person... I keep expecting different results from my same stupid body, even though it has given me no reason to believe it will do what I want.

A small part of me feels like I am being punished for wanting another baby. This is very upsetting to me, and I'm not going to write any more about it.

We have also been proceeding with trying to adopt a baby. I try so hard to feel excited... and feel like I can hope for having a family. I am so afraid that no one is going to choose me to be their child's mother. I couldn't keep Owen... I am afraid that they are going to look at the adoption book that I worked so hard on, and think that I'm too damaged to be a good mother.

Part of me wishes that I could just reach into my brain and turn off the part that so desperately needs to be a mother. That I could just take even the smallest break from feeling broken. I feel like I am just sinking deeper and deeper into a depression and I don't see a way out. I feel like... I do ok on a day to day basis... I can function... I can laugh... I can "move on" with my life. But I have lost my hope. I don't want that to be the case. I try SO HARD every day to be hopeful. To find small things to be happy about. To be grateful that I had 6 days with my boy. It's not enough. I keep thinking that I can fake it until I make it. People tell me that it will get easier. I have to believe them, because it can't stay this hard forever. It just can't. So for now... I am going to keep trying. I guess that's as good of a place as I can hope to be in right now. I haven't given up on trying.

If you read this blog, and you pray, or think positive thoughts, or howl at the moon even... could you just do it for my family? We could really use some good news and some hope.