When Things Change

I feel like I seek out changes in my life anytime I start to feel settled. I seek them out with the full force of my own intensity, and I make them happen. I started thinking about why I do this when change also brings so much stress, and wouldn't it be easier to remain settled? The answer is yes, it would be easier. I think I do this because if I seek out the change, it can't sneak up on me. It's completely illogical, but it feels like the explanation that makes sense for me .

In this particular time of change, meaning us moving to a new home, other things have come up (as things have the tendency to do in highly stressful situations) . While packing, I got to go through the things of Owen's that I have. Blankets and hats, the guest book from the funeral, the bedding he never got to use. And even today, there is still the familiar feeling of being gutted. It's an ugly word for an ugly feeling.

I was thinking about how to describe what it's like, and every time I do this, I come to the same conclusion. I can't. I can't explain what it's like to lose my child.  Nor do I claim to know how every person who has ever lost a child felt during that time, but I can tell you unequivocally that no matter how many times I imagined it, the pain of those thoughts didn't hold a candle to the real thing. I had to think about it a lot before Owen was born. When the doctor tells you there's a 50% survival rate, then tells you there will be a 0% chance of survival if you have your baby that night, to "the odds don't look good," you spend time agonizing over it. It nearly killed me. But the real thing is on a different plane of existence. The fact that I am even here writing this today has very little to do with some sort of superhuman strength that I have (I don't), and much more to do with the fact that people helped me. That's it. I had people who supported me and told me out loud that they didn't want me to give up when I wanted to.

So with that truth in my mind, and the knowledge that sometimes the kindness of a stranger made it possible to get through a day, I went to give Owen's beautiful crib bedding to a family who needed it for their son. For a long time, I had it in my head that it had to go to the RIGHT person because my son would never have it, but the truth is that it just needed to go where it was needed, and maybe that made this mom's day feel brighter. And this baby will have a cozy quilt and sheet tonight. That will have to be enough. It's hard because nothing is ever really enough- I want to do more, be more, always, but I can't always. So I did this one thing, and I listened to all of my favorite Owen songs on the way there and back. 


As always, I hope that he is proud, and I miss my boy .💙

It's May 30th Again

Every year feels a little bit different than the last.  Sometimes more difficult, sometimes less.  This year has been easier on my heart, though I don't have a reason why.  If there is any wisdom I've gained in the past seven years, it's that I have to feel how I feel without apology, shame, or guilt.  At times, this has meant laying on my closet floor, unable to get up or come out. It has meant contemplating whether I wanted to stay here.  Other times, this has meant being happy, proud, and just okay.  

Regardless of where I am in the moment, I know that Owen is gone.  I don't believe it was for some grand purpose or to teach me anything specific.  I do think we, as people, have a purpose and things to learn, I just don't think there's one way to get there- as is true with most experiences in life.  Was Owen's purpose here grand?  Yes.  Did I learn things? Yes, painfully. But I cannot equate this to being "led" to this point in my life, as some people say.  I was not led here.  I fought through a jungle of very dark thoughts and a lot of wanting to give up to get here.  With a lot of freaking help.  And that's not something to be ashamed of.  I could have gone in a million other directions, but I came here.  

Currently, my rainbow is watching Umizoomi in the other room, our new puppy is laying on the couch with him, and I have gone back and forth between my regular morning mom duties and re-reading old Facebook messages from the day that Owen died.  Some of them make me smile, and others take my breath away, but this is where I am, and this is what life looks like on the other side.  It's just part of my normal.  

Thanks to all of you who remember my boy always.  You are in my heart, too, and know what I would not be here without you.  

On Answering Stupid Questions

I'm not gonna lie; I'm feeling a little bit indignant today.  So hold on.  

Recently, it came to my attention that a friend of ours had asked, on several occasions, why, now that I had Aden, I couldn't get over losing Owen.  So.  Here you go "friend."  To help you understand. 

1.  Because people aren't replaceable.

2.  There isn't an age when your child suddenly becomes worth more.  Before they're born.  The day they're born, the day they go to kindergarten or college- that's your kid.  100% your kid.  It's not a 401k, it doesn't increase (or decrease) in value over time.  It just is.  

3.  Because I don't f&*$&! want to.  Yeah, I said it.  I am actually quite happy with my life currently, don't mistake that for meaning that I want to be in stage 1 of my grief forever.  But I DON'T WANT TO get over my son dying like it didn't happen.  It did.  I lived it, not you.  It's mine to own and do with what I feel is right.  And it's not your job, or anyone's job to decide that I'm not doing my journey of my own life the right way.  

I have never, do not, will never apologize to anyone for how I have handled, am handling, will handle the loss of my son because it's not anyone else's to live.  I've walked away from plenty of people because they couldn't "deal with" how I dealt with my traumatic and life changing event.  Must have been super difficult for them. If I make you uncomfortable because I brought up my kid in conversation?  Don't talk to me anymore.  Block me, unfollow me, delete me; I could not give less of a shit.  Honestly.  If I'm doing this particular life one time, then I don't want your pretentious, judgmental, hateful energy anywhere near me anyway.  

That feels better.  Back to your regular scheduled programming in 3...2...1...

A New Day Without New Words

It has been a long time since I had a night like tonight.  A night where tears came without holding back, and I was able to really step back and look at where I've been.  In short, it has been a long #^$&(#$ road.  There is some part of me that appreciates the wave of grief I weathered tonight because it means Owen is still so present in my heart.  He was here and he is mine.  These words I've spoken and thought and written hundreds of times are still what goes through my mind when I think of him.  I pass by his photos on my wall every day.  He was real and he is mine.  There are few people who know where I've been and truly understand the kind of living hell I existed in for many years.  My husband existed right along with me for a long time.  I am thankful that we survived together, and that we have become new people together.  We have this love for two perfect little boys.  It's not fair that we don't get to know them both in the same way.  It's not fair that Owen never got to go outside, to have a birthday, to ride in a batmobile.  It's just not.  I don't get to know what kind of lunchbox and backpack he would have chosen for Kindergarten this year.  I should have an almost first grader!  The thought is achingly impossible to imagine.  And it's not fair.  And yet, I find happiness here too.  There is happiness in the shrieks and giggles from my little rainbow.  There is happiness in the fact that when he's asleep, I can see Owen's face in his, and I can imagine for a moment that I have a glimpse into a life I didn't get to live.

Tonight I feel humbled at the ability my heart has to bring me to my knees as though this loss were fresh.  I am humbled by my own human will to survive and to find meaning in my life past the day my world stopped.  I am humbled by the honor and privilege I have to be a mother to two perfect little boys.  There is no "reason" for the loss of my son.  There is no greater purpose for his death, there is no truth to a cliched line about heaven needing another angel.  But he is supposed to be mine.  Whether he's here or in my heart, I was supposed to be his mother.  For that, I am grateful.  For the fact that he fought to be here, I am grateful.  For what I have learned from him, I am grateful.

I titled this post the way I did because I do not have any new enlightening insight into my situation.  I do not have anything particularly inspiring or amazing to say.  I just needed to think about my boy tonight and really feel his absence for a little while. My Owen, my little fox, I love you <3 .="" nbsp="" p="">  

This Life

Sometimes I think I am doing so well, and then one domino is nudged slightly off-kilter and the whole shebang comes tumbling down.  It has been not quite 5 and a half years since my new life began.  And only in the last six months did I feel like I was actually living it.  The waves of grief have been generously small.  Manageable.  I have poured every ounce of myself into getting back my body and my mind after five years of "otherness."  But today it just feels disingenuous to say I'm doing OK.  Today I don't feel it.  It feels like everything I've been working for is not quite real, and it can just be taken away in a moment.

Today a whole plethora of things went wrong.  Aden asked me why I don't have a brother or a sister in my belly.  Then he asked if we could go buy one at the store.  And it's so incredibly unfair that he doesn't have his brother.  And I hate it.  I told him we were going to have to be OK with just him and me and daddy.  He said, "Oh, is the store closed?"  My heart is crushed.

The novels that I have spent every spare second working on since April will have to be unpublished... probably in the next twenty-four hours, because one of my students came across it during my free book promotion.  It feels like I'm losing the one thing that was saving me.  Writing let me get out of my own head and put everything on paper.  It occupied my mind in a good way instead of a debilitating one.  I had an actual hobby.  I haven't had one of those in a long long time.  And now that's over.  Again, unfair, but it's what has to happen.

To speak some truth?  I haven't been to the cemetery since June.  I have never gone this long without going.  Around the fourth year of Owen being gone, it started to feel... like I wasn't going there because I felt close to him, but because I was supposed to.  When he was first buried, I 100% judged the parents of the babies who had no decoration on their stones. "How sad," I thought.  And now I am the biggest hypocrite of all.  Truth be told, I don't feel close to him there.  I don't really feel close to him anywhere.  I am missing my boy.  I am missing everything.  He's not there under that stone.  He's somewhere that I'm not and it's so unfair.  

Most days I'm fine, I'm good.  I like my job, and I love love love my family, and I have found freedom in writing.  But today... today was not a good day.  I can hope for tomorrow to be better.

Five Years Later

This Sunday marks five years since I saw my little fox's face for the first time.  The past five months have been the most healing part of my grief journey, and for that I am grateful.  After we lost Owen, I divided my life into pre-loss and post-loss.  Who I was then, who I am now.  They were not the same person, so this felt appropriate.

During the past several months, I have started to reconcile those two people again.  I am still the dramatic, anxious, funny, quick-witted person I was in my late teens and early twenties.  I am still Owen's mother.  I am still a loss mom.  I am still the mom of a beautiful three year old rainbow.  I am still the new person who doesn't take crap from people anymore.  I am still the new person who is not afraid to walk away from people when they no longer support or add to my purpose here.  But now I can say I'm me- one person.  Taking control my health and my body has given me back a sense of self that I had been missing for a long time.  It has improved my marriage, my overall outlook, my parenting, and my relationships.  Writing my book has also been such a cathartic stress release.  It feels like I've found my place.  I feel more comfortable in my own skin than maybe I ever have.

All of this being said, does that mean I'm "better"? Or "over it"?   Of course not.  My baby should be graduating from pre-school next week.  It's surreal.  Of course my stomach tightens when I get the kindergarten registration emails from my school district, when I see other kids in their tiny caps and gowns.  It's the reality of the situation.  The grief of losing my son will last my whole life.  I saw above quote today and it just grabbed me.  I wear it differently now, and yet some days I wear it like it was the day he died, though those days are fewer and further between.

I miss my boy every day.  I can see glimpses of our life as it would have been.  I also have joy, and laughter, and life filling my home.  Happiness, while not the pretty picture we all dream about when we begin our adult lives, no longer escapes me.  I can be happy and still walk with my grief.  Five years ago, that sentence could not have been fathomable.  And now it is.  My Owen Fox has made me a better, kinder, more compassionate person, and I can never repay him for what he has given me or for how hard he fought to be here.  But I will try to be a person he can be proud of and who he would be happy to call his mom.  <3 p="">

Approaching 5

The past couple of months have been difficult for me in terms of where I am in my grief.  I feel like other areas of my life have gotten brighter; I've begun to take control of my health and weight, my family relationships are strong, and I've started a new endeavor with ItWorks that I'm excited about.  That being said, there have been more nights lately that I've found myself crying in bed, angry at what has been lost.

This May will mark five years.  Year five feels like a weight right now.  Kindergarten.  Buying his backpack and lunchbox and first-day-of-school outfit.  I think the hardest hardest hardest part about 5, is that it feels like a passage from baby/toddler to full-fledged "kid," and I don't know Owen as a "kid".  I have no idea what he would look like, what his interests would be, what his strengths and challenges would be, his likes and dislikes.  It is the strangest form of longing to LOVE someone SO MUCH and not know who he is.  I can't explain it to non-loss parents.  The idea of it is too strange.  I try to envision Aden and Owen playing together- mostly fighting pretend dragons in the backyard as Aden loves to do, but the image is incomplete.  The only clear images I have are of an infant, and that's not true anymore.  This is hard.

Today I sat planning our small summer vacation.  I kept thinking and wishing that we had a closer network of friends with toddlers so we could plan something together and Aden would have someone to play with.  I started to get really upset about this, and finally came to the realization that I was just upset because he should have someone to play with already.  He should have a big brother and a best friend all of the time.  And you know what?  It's hard to make friends who have kids when one of mine is gone.  It just is.  I have made progress with this the past year since Aden has been in preschool and made some friends, so I guess I will just focus on that.

I guess I am coming to some sort of acceptance that we will not have any more children, and this wanting for Aden to have a sibling will just become part of my normal.  Though I was surprised (shocked) about becoming pregnant last October, I had visions of Aden as a big brother, and how he would be with his new sibling.  I started a "secret" Pinterest board of baby nurseries and pinned articles about bringing home a new sibling.  After that loss, I knew that mentally I could not survive another pregnancy that ended too soon, and seeing as how there are no guarantees, we decided that was it. Coming to grips with this decision has been a process, and I won't claim to be there 100% yet, but I feel like it's the right decision.

In the midst of all of this going on in my head, Aden brings light and love and joy to my heart every single day.  Where I would be without him is not a place I care to imagine.  I envision the next few months leading up to Owen's birthday to be difficult, but appreciate how fortunate I am to have my sweet rainbow here to make me smile.

Five and One

The past three weeks of my life have been quite painful... both physically and mentally. About mid-October, we were shocked (but excited) to learn that I was pregnant.  We had previously decided we were not going to try to have anymore children, as we agreed it was too much of a mental struggle after what we have been through.  This though... this was a surprise.  There was no trying to get pregnant... no charting, no clomid, no stress.... I just was.  And it was terrifying and exciting.  I knew it would be difficult to afford another child, but I wasn't letting myself think about that yet... I, of all people, know that it is a loooong road from two pink lines to bringing a baby home.  I decided just to let myself be excited.  I even started a secret pinterest board of baby nurseries and bottle types and how to prepare your child for another baby at home.  Was I getting ahead of myself?  yes.  Did it make me happy?  yes.  Such is the life of a type-A person such as myself.

Due to some odd events early in the pregnancy, I had a very early ultrasound and bloodwork.  Then more bloodwork.  Things came back.... weird.  More ultrasounds.... more bloodwork. 

No baby. 

After about 2 and a half weeks of tests and hoping and worrying, it was decided I was probably experiencing an ectopic pregnancy.  After experiencing some consistent pain, I ended up in the ER early last week and was treated with a drug to "dissolve" the pregnancy.  While I am thankful I was able to avoid surgery,  this drug is not without its own host of fun side effects... the likes of which I am still dealing with. 


As I sat in my hospital room after getting the shots, I actually laughed out loud in my frustration and said to my mom, "can you believe this has happened to me?  After everything else... this is how the universe gets its last laugh at me??"  I have lost ANOTHER chance for a baby.  This pregnancy made FIVE.  They ask you at the hospital "number of pregnancies? number of living children?"  FIVE and ONE.  Right now I think I am still in disbelief that I have yet again become a statistic.  This happens in 1 in 50 pregnancies... so I guess that's more likely than the 1 in 7500 I had for Owen's CDH.  Too bad those odds don't work for me in playing the lotto.  I am in a state of anger right now I think.  After everything I went through to get to this place of being OK with my new life... to being a mother to Aden and a mother to Owen's memory, how could life do this to me? 

So here I am now.  Suffering yet another loss.  Another baby I won't get to know, or read to, or buy Christmas presents for. Aden will still grow up alone.  And there's not a damned thing I can do about it.  So instead, I hug Aden tighter, snuggle him more, and pour all of the love that I have into being his mom. 

I debated about writing this... feeling like no one wants to know this.  But if I can't break the silence, after all of the work I have done to bring awareness to child loss, then I am not being who I am.  I am not asking for anyone's sympathy, I know I'm going to be OK.  I am asking for your awareness to the fact that this happens... a  lot.  To a lot of women.  Pregnancy loss, infant loss, infertility, still birth... they are all heart-shattering. So if you're lucky enough to have your children at home with you and healthy, give them an extra kiss tonight for this baby that would have been so so so loved in our family. <3 br="">

And Here I Am

It has been a long while since I've posted on this blog.  I felt like I had said the same things over and over and nothing changed.  It has been 4 years and 3 months exactly since I said goodbye to my little fox.  I feel like in the past year I have learned some things about this journey... one of them being that as soon as I think I have come to the top of a particularly difficult hill, I see another one rise even higher before me. 

I have learned that I can be happy.  This past year I have allowed myself to actually take care of me.  I have kept up with doctor's appointments, I have gotten my hair colored and cut at an actual salon, I have gotten pedicures, and I have started working out for the first time in years.  My marriage has begun to recover and come to a more stable place.  I have let go of past hurts, and I have reconnected with old friends who remember who I was before my life changed.  It's interesting that you need those people more as your life changes.  To remind you that you were once the person only you remember in your mind. This is good momentum.  And yet-

When I read posts from the days after Owen's death, they don't seem so far away.  They seem like they have been engrained into me and I can feel them all over again.  While time has dulled the edge of my flashbacks and the acutely painful memories, there are things every.single.day that make me ache for my life in that alternate universe where I have both of my children with me.  When Aden's teacher sent home a questionnaire for a project they were doing, and it listed: "siblings and their ages".  I had to attach a separate piece of paper to explain.   This week they are doing a project with family photos, so I am faced with how to handle that.  Recently, Aden and I were walking up to his school, and he stopped next to a little angel statue in the front garden.  He patted its head and said "that's like Owen, that's my brother".  For just a moment I caught the smallest glimpse of how Aden sees his brother, and that it is all he will ever have.  I won't have the moments of seeing them together, getting into trouble, creating chaos in my life and driving me crazy :).  

I think one of the hardest things that each passing year brings with it, is that I don't know who my son is right now.  I don't know what he looks like- if he has my curly hair and if it has turned dark.  I don't know the quirks of his personality, what his favorite things are, what his lovey of choice is.  Next year he would be starting kindergarten and I won't know what kind of lunch box he would have chosen or what backpack he would have liked.  This is the thing about losing a child, that the only memories I have are brief and full of so much pain.  What I would give for one memory where I could have known he was happy and free from pain.  

So I think really what I have learned is that the grief of losing my son will never dissipate, because he was supposed to be with me for the rest of my life.  The fact that he is not means that my whole life is being re-written as I go along.  The people who could not accept this fact have long since been cut out of my new story, and the ones who can accept it are appreciated more than they know.  I am going to try to write here more as I continue this path "on the other side," because I miss writing about him.  I hope he knows how much he is still wanted and missed, and how our family is incomplete without him.  

~W

Balance

So I have been on summer break for a little over a month now... and I guess being at home is different than I thought.  I had been waiting for this time since the day I went back to work from being on maternity leave.  I am now finding that I am bored.  Like SO bored.  Not bored with Aden, just tired of sitting around the house.  In fairness, Aden is just as bored as I am!  I try and take him somewhere everyday, even if it's just to walk around the library for 10 minutes, just for a change of scenery.  I feel extremely guilty about feeling this way though. I feel like I should be getting so much more done if I'm home all the time, and I should feel elated that I am home with my boy (which I am), but I'm also bored!  I miss talking to grown ups.  I miss having a reason to get dressed in a nice outfit that isn't going to be pooped on or drooled on or peed on... you get the idea.  I love this boy more than anything and anyone on this Earth.  I just wish I could find that balance.  I know my heart is going to break when I go back to work, even though I miss working.  I really wish I could work part-time and still be a teacher.  I know this is possible... more likely if I taught high school as they have more part time positions, but I don't know.  Perhaps if I was a stay at home mom for real I would find my routine and a group of friends to talk to.  I just think it's hard to go back and forth from working and staying home.  Don't get me wrong, one of the biggest motivating factors in me becoming a teacher was that I knew I could see my future children more than at any other job, so I SO appreciate being able to see Aden develop and grow before my very eyes.  I just wish I had that counterpart...  This post is kind of rambling now, I don't even know where I was going with it.  Just trying to get out the guilt I feel for thinking this way... for missing work.  And I know I'll regret those words when I go back to work and miss Aden so much.  Sigh.  For now I will be happy in looking at my sweet baby on the video monitor as he sleeps.  <3

2 Years

This post is coming a little late... but the thoughts have been bouncing around in my head for a while.  On May 24th, my little fox would have been 2 years old.  And on May 30th, he had been gone for two years.  It amazed me how long it seemed to take for those days to go by, when two years ago it seemed to take only seconds. 

I didn't plan a birthday party this year.  For some reason it just felt... wrong.  We did celebrate, in our own way, but I just didn't want to act like I was happy.  I am not happy that he's not here.  Last year we did plan a celebration of sorts, and it seemed to add more stress, not take it away.  So this year I made some baked s'mores (from scratch!!), we lit two little candles and sang happy birthday to my baby. 

We also took in the Project Owen donation to Phoenix Children's.  This project has felt so worthwhile and amazing.  My friends and family were overly generous in giving to this project, and I am so thankful.  We donated 6 baskets (one for each day Owen was alive) full of things for grieving parents.  They included outfits, blankets, and stuffed animals for a baby to be photographed with, a baby book made for angel babies, an angel wing necklace and key chain for mommy and daddy, hats and hairbows, and a list of helpful resources for the parents.   They turned out so great and I know that Owen is so proud of the work being done in his name.  I would like to be able to get non-profit status somewhere down the road, I think that would be wonderful.  So a huge thank you to everyone who donated, we could not have done anything close to this without you. 

 

I hope to be able to do something similar next year, though I might try out boxes instead of baskets just for portability's sake!

I miss Owen so much and sometimes it hits me that there's nothing I can do about  it.  There's nothing to make the hole in my heart go away.  Aden has certainly helped to heal a lot of me... but I won't ever be the same, and I don't want to be.  Owen has fundamentally changed who I am in my heart and in my soul and I will forever be his mommy.  I believe I will see him again someday... but it will never be enough to make me miss him less in this life.

Thank you to those of you who remembered Owen happily and were kind enough to send me a message about him.  Those are the things that warm my heart. 

Happy Birthday little fox... your mom misses you every minute.  <3

Triggers

Last night I was watching Grey's Anatomy, as I do every Thursday night, and this particular episode was extremely hard for me.  A baby in the NICU died in his mother's arms... that being the first time she was able to hold him.  It was like being punched in the stomach.  I know that it's a TV show... and I have to give kudos to the writers because they got a lot of things right, but it put me right back in the NICU with Owen. 

This mother on the TV didn't cry when she was able to hold her baby for the first time... neither did I.  The TV doctor explained to her what would happen, much as Owen's doctor did that day.  She didn't break down until after he stopped breathing and was gone, and neither did I.   Once he was gone, I had no one left to be strong for... there was nothing left to fight for or to hope for.  It was all over and my son was gone.  So regardless of the fact that it was fiction and a television show... it hurt.  My whole body and soul hurt from watching this, and yet I'm glad I did.  Sometimes I feel guilty about how happy Aden makes me.  My son is dead and I didn't know that I would ever feel happy again, but I do because of his brother.  It feels right that it hurt this badly sometimes.  It felt right to cry all the way to work today because I want to hold my son again.  It felt right that some of my students asked about him today and I told them how he died.  It feels awful, but it's supposed to feel awful.

I don't know if any of that made any sense, but that's ok.  I love my boys more than I can express.  <3

Time Flying By

Wow... I can't believe it has been almost three months since my last post.  I thought I would be one of those parents who posts weekly about their baby's accomplishments... but sadly work and life have gotten in the way.  Aden is almost 5 months old and absolutely perfect.  I can't get enough of him.  He is 99th percentile in all of his growth stats... meaning he's 20 pounds at not even 5 months.  Insane.  He also loves to stand with support, can roll from tummy to back, and tries really hard to sit up when he's laying down.  He has one little front bottom tooth.  He is the happiest little guy I have ever seen, and he smiles just like I did when I was a baby- mouth open as wide as it will go.  He brings pure joy into my life. 

I often think what my life would be like if I had an almost two year old at home right now too.  Looking at pictures, I think Owen just looks like a big brother... he has a wise face.  Aden has a mischievous little face with a twinkle in his eye.  It hurts me every day to know that I missed all of this with him.  I will never get to see him roll over or take his first step.  I kiss his face in a frame outside my room every night on my way to bed, and every night I wish I was tucking him into bed instead.

In light of everything, I have realized that my current job (aka my current 50 minute commute) is not working for me.  I had hoped to be able to stay home with Aden at least part time, but it doesn't look like that is a reality I am going to be able to achieve at this time.  I have since come to the decision that working closer to my home is the best thing for my family and me right now.  My hope is that I can have more time to keep up with housework and bills and whatnot before Lucas and Aden get home, and I can therefore have better quality time with him when we are able to be together.  I am trying really hard to be grateful that my job allows me to spend three months out of every year at home with him, as I know many people don't get even that.  It just seems like it's not enough.  I want everything for him.

I am also taking steps to try and control my anxiety at this time.  Unfortunately, my ability to nurse Aden is coming to an end due to several factors, and I am trying to make peace with this.  The one thing that is now a possibility, however, because of not nursing anymore, I am able to explore some herbal remedies to help me deal with my anxiety without fear of them affecting my milk.  I have struggled with anxiety and anxiety attacks since I was about 11 years old, and I have found them getting bad again since giving birth.  My hope is that I can react to things that happen in a reasonable way instead of feeling like everything is so out of control all the time.

That is all for now, sorry for the scattered thoughts.  I am going to try and update more often from here on out.  

2 Months & 20 Months

Wow... it has been a while since I've written, the longest I've gone I believe!!  Time has been flying by and I can't believe Aden is 2 months old already.  We had his 2 month check up and he weighed in at 12 lbs 14 oz, was 24.5 inches long, and his head was 16 inches.  Thats 75th percentile for weight, and 97th percentile for length and head.  I have a BIG boy :).  We got some of his shots, though have elected to spread out all of the recommended vaccines so he doesn't get so many at one time.  We will go back in a month for some more.  Aden did ok with his shots... I didn't do as well :/.  I'm sure his doctor thinks I'm insane, but oh well!!  I call the office at least once a week for some reassurance that something or other is normal.  Aden and I have FINALLY gotten the breastfeeding under control as of about 3 weeks ago.  I decided to have a private consult with a lactation consultant and she was WONDERFUL and it has fixed my pain issues!!! I sincerely wish I had done this sooner as I believe I would have enjoyed those first five weeks so much more.  Live and learn, right?  I am struggling somewhat with a supply issue now but am working on fixing it with herbal supplements.  Aden is generally a very happy, smiley baby (when he's not in pain from gas :( ).  He is laughing so much more and loves to play.  He is able to hit his toys when they are above him and has just this week started to try and grasp them.  He also is quite intrigued by my hair and likes to grab it and pull on it.  He has just started to roll over to his side and this is very exciting!!  I can't wait to see him rolling all over the place!!!

I still have a very hard time taking him places as I'm so afraid of him getting sick. I keep telling myself that eventually he will get sick and I will have to deal with it.  I dread that day.  For right now, however, the bulk of my anxiety is coming from heading back to work in less than two weeks.  It is killing me.  I am very lucky in that my mother in law is able to watch Aden, so I know he'll be with someone who loves him, I just wish beyond wish that I could stay home with him.  I know that the first week will be the most difficult... I just hope the rest of the year passes quickly and I can look forward to being home again for summer vacation. 

I have started looking for a new job for next year... hopefully something part time, though part time teaching gigs are few and far between, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed!!!  I just want to get to enjoy my little guy. 

November 30 also marks 20 months since Owen grew his wings.  It's crazy how sometimes I look at Aden and I can see Owen's face.  It feels... I don't know.. It hurts but it feels good at the same time... to know that somehow I will get to see pieces of Owen as Aden grows up.  I miss him so much, and I often lay in bed after Aden goes to sleep and just cry.  It's not all sad crying... some of it is, of course, and some of it is just tears of thanks that I have this amazing little boy and that he made it here and is at home with me.  I miss Owen SO MUCH that sometimes I have to stop with all of my stress about breastfeeding and working and lack of sleep and just be thankful that I have the opportunity to feel these things... to be stressed about it.  Please don't think I don't complain about not sleeping... I do!!  But every now and again it hits me that I would have given anything to do all of this with Owen too. 
I tell Aden about Owen all the time... and sometimes when Aden looks above my shoulder and coos and giggles, I like to think that Owen is there saying hi to his brother.  This path in life is not something I would have chosen for myself... all of this pain and heartbreak, but this is what it is, and I am trying to make the best of what we have now. 

Well, this has turned in to a bit of a rambling post, so I'm going to go kiss Aden and go to sleep (hopefully for more than an hour).  Hoping you all are having a peaceful night.

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