Failure

Anyone who knows me would agree that I don't really do "failure"... at least not in my academic or professional life. But it feels like in my personal life, failure is all I know. My body has failed me twice in miscarrying two pregnancies. The first time I was so naive... I really didn't even think about it as a possibility- as I said, not used to failure. So that first miscarriage hit me really hard. The second one I anticipated. It still upset me, but I did not hold much hope that it would last, and it didn't. Then my body failed me once again... I tried with everything I had to get pregnant again, and could not for a year and a half. Life just felt like a black hole of failure as a woman and as a wife.

Then came Owen. When I got that positive pregnancy test, I was determined not to fail. I started taking progesterone just like the doctor said, and low and behold, I made it through the first trimester. I was still scared every day that I would lose this baby, and I was thankful for every week I made it past, and every dr appointment where I got to hear his wonderful heartbeat. I started dangerously thinking... this could work, we might actually take a baby home. That is how I thought my whole pregnancy... "This might actually work!" I never got the naivete back... I never felt blissfully ignorant. I thought... maybe after I reach viability I can stop worrying so much. And at exactly 24 weeks and 1 day, I found out Owen had CDH and very possibly might not live. It was like the universe slapping me in the face and saying "see? you are a failure".

The end of my pregnancy is somewhat blurry to me now... I don't know how I survived that long knowing that he could (and probably would, according to many doctors) die after he was born. I feel like I have been grieving his loss for so long, but I always had this hope that maybe I deserved this miracle... maybe we would be on the other side of those statistics. Again... failure. I was unable to keep my baby safe, unable to protect him. The only thing I know in my heart that I did right, was to let him go when we did. He was in pain and I know that we had to let him go.

Now that he is gone I feel like I don't have anything to "live" for. I'm not saying I want to die, I just don't have a reason to do things. While I was pregnant, I had to keep going, for him... there was no other choice.. I had to do the best that I could for him. After he was born and was in the NICU... I had to be strong and I had to believe... for him. I held it together until they told me we had run out of options... and even then I left the room so he couldn't hear me cry. I didn't lose it in front of my son until he had left this Earth.

Now, what do I do? Why should I eat or go out or really do anything? I feel like I keep screwing everything up and like I'm letting people down because I just can't get it together. I try and tell myself I need to go about my life for him, so that he'll be proud of me... but it gets harder to believe it the longer I am without him. He was my source of strength and now he is gone and I feel like I'm broken and I don't know how to do anything but fail.

And... not but

Lucas & I have started on a new journey in that we have applied to become certified to adopt. I know that my babylost friends can understand, but I feel like maybe I should explain to those who have never felt the pain of losing a child. I miss Owen with all of my heart... he was my everything, and now he is gone. This terrible thing has happened, and (yes, "and"... not "but") I still want a family. I have wanted a baby for over 3 years... it was all I thought about for 3 years and I believed that all of my hopes had been answered with Owen, and in the happiness that he brought me, they were answered, but cut unimaginably short.

There is no "replacing" Owen... and I feel like some believe that is what we are trying to do... and that is unreal to me. No one else will ever be Owen. The decision to adopt has come after many many tears and discussions and much grief. The tears and the discussions and the grief are also far from over. People have told me that I need "time to grieve" the loss of my baby, and while time is a friend to me, grieving is not something that just stops one day. It is not as though, in a year, or two years, I will suddenly be done grieving. There will always be times when someone asks me how many children I have, or every Christmas and holiday, or every family photo, that I will be grieving. And even with all of this pain and the hurt, I cannot stop my want for a child that gets to stay with me. And the happiness that having a child will bring me, will never take away the pain that I feel over losing my baby or the immense love that I feel for him. I imagine that they will exist together. There has not been a minute of my life since finding out I was carrying Owen that I have ceased to think about him. I do not imagine that there ever will be. And I still want a family. And I still want the hope of bringing happiness into our lives at some point in the future. And and and... never but. I will never leave him behind... he will be with me always.

Letters

Sweet baby,

I just want to tell you I love you and I wish you were here. I am trying really hard to get better. I think you played a song for me today and I loved it. I want to teach you to read and buy you school supplies for kindergarten. I want you to be here. I think that you are leading us towards helping another baby. I hope that is what you want us to do. I really miss you. I sleep with your blanket every night and it makes me remember holding you. I would give anything to hold you again. And to kiss you all over and touch your nose. I guess I don't really have anything new to say. I just needed to say I love you so much.

With all of my heart,

Mommy


My baby,

I hope you were looking down on us yesterday. We picked out those songs especially for you. The last one was your daddy's and my wedding song, and now it will be a song for our family. I hope you saw how many people came to say goodbye to you and how many lives you impacted. You are so amazing. I still miss you terribly. Your daddy and I are coming to visit your grave today. I know you're not there, but maybe you could stop by and look in on us. Your daddy is being so strong and I am so in love with him. You looked just like him, you know? Except you had my ears. I will miss your little face and your little chubby body for as long as I live. I would do anything if I could hold you again. It just wasn't even close to being long enough. I wanted to see you go to kindergarten and graduate high school and college and get married and have babies of your own. Six days just doesn't even come close. I am trying to be strong and make you proud... it's really hard. My feelings for you are overwhelming. I know you wouldn't want me to be sad all the time, I just don't know any other way to be right now. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of calling myself your mommy. Keep on laughing and playing up in heaven. That is how I will try and think about you. I love you for always.

With all of my heart,

Mommy


I hope you are getting used to everything up there. I am not used to everything down here. I feel like we are just waiting for you to come home and it's really hard to understand that you won't be doing that. Maybe you were listening in on your daddy and I talking last night, but we talked about our future and having more children. I hope that that is ok with you, and even makes you a little happy. You would be a big brother... and I promise you we will tell them all about you and how brave you were. Part of me feels like I never want to have another baby because you were supposed to be my baby... I was ok if you were the only one. The other part of me feels like that's not how my life or your daddy's life is supposed to go. I think we're supposed to have children. I hope that you agree with that. I want you to know that we will never be able to replace you or the love that we feel for you. You are our first baby and our son and I can't even explain how my heart feels about you. It is going to take a long time, maybe even my entire life until I see you again, to not feel this sadness anymore. You are not causing this sadness, just the loss of you. You brought me more happiness than I ever knew existed in this world. Seeing your eyes and having you grab my finger are two of the happiest moments I think I'll ever feel. I fell in love with you so fast, and I hope that you fell in love with me. I was in love with you long before we met though, and I remember singing to you in the car while you were safe in my belly. I wonder if you remember that too. I will play you songs and sing for you forever, so I hope that you are listening in sometimes. You are the most precious thing in this world to me and I need you to know that. Say hello to everyone up there, and I hope they're taking good care of you. Love you forever and always.

With all my heart,

Mommy

Back to "normal"????

It seems like one of the most unfair things about losing Owen, is that our day to day lives haven't changed. Everything is the same it was before, except for us. We are sad and broken, but nothing else is different. We make plans, we see movies, we are still "childless". It feels like my entire world should be ripped apart and nothing should be recognizable, because how could the world that I live in stay in tact when such an unthinkable thing has happened? My son is dead. I cry over his pictures and I try to remember what it feels like to touch him, but he is not here. Why has the world not gone out of its orbit? But it hasn't... "life," or some twisted version of life, goes on... every day it just keeps going. People have asked me if I'm ready to get back to "normal"... meaning going back to work as the school year starts soon, and I just don't know how to answer that question. I don't believe there will ever be a normalcy about my life again. Normal would be for me to be exhausted from middle of the night feedings, not exhausted because I can't sleep because I'm thinking about my lost baby. I guess my new version of normal is this...ready to cry at any moment, envying other people with their children, and treasuring my too-short time with my son. I believe I just have to learn how to live without being a whole person. A part of me will always be missing and there is no way to fix it. I know in my heart that I am meant to be a mother to a child who can stay with me, and I therefore know that someday I will be, but I just know that Owen has taken a piece of my heart and my soul to Heaven with him, and I won't get it back until I see him again. There is no "normal" about this.

Anger

Anger is an absolutely overpowering emotion. I am so angry right now that my head feels like it will explode. I want my baby, I NEED my baby, I need to know him and touch him and kiss him and teach him things and for him to know that he is my everything. I don't know what to do with myself and I feel like I am losing my mind. I can't comprehend what has happened and that I will never see him again... EVER. My sweet faced little boy is gone from me forever and I just want to be with him and for him to be with me. If I could just have him back I would hold him and never let go. Why has this happened to us and why is he gone. He could have made it if just this or just that and nothing that we did MATTERS... none of it matters... not the magnesium sulfate and not the steroids and not the EXIT procedure and not the ECMO and the months and months of tests and MRIs and ultrasounds and worry and praying to SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE to just let us have our son. NONE OF IT FUCKING MATTERED and I'm so angry and feel so alone and empty and I would give ANYTHING in this world to just hold him again and to tell him how much I need him and to ask too much of him to be brave and stay with me a little longer.

How can he be gone, just gone. I can't breathe it hurts so badly. I just want someone to make the hurt and the pain and the missing him better, I want someone to hand me my healthy son and tell me this was all a nightmare and I can take him home and love him like I'm supposed to. I'm supposed to love him and protect him and I can't because he is gone and I am here. I don't want life to be over but I fear that it is.

6 days

Wondering if people on the street
can look into my eyes
and see that I have nothing left
I have given everything I could give
and was given 6 days in return
How could this possibly be even

All of my love and all of my heart
have been sacrificed
and I got to be a mother for 6 days
Two diaper changes
15 minutes of holding
A handful of kisses
One glimpse of royal blue eyes
And too much pain

I fell in love in 6 days
and now I am broken into pieces
My everything and my sunshine
has been taken away
All I have left are empty arms
An empty belly
And a heart full of love that can never be given

Fireworks

This weekend was particularly difficult, and I don't think I expected it. First, I had my 6 week postpartum doctor visit, and it is very hard to go back to the doctors office where I got to see Owen (via ultrasound) and hear his wonderful heartbeat and know that all of that is gone. I also had to see my least favorite doctor of the practice, and he told me I should wait at least a year to try for another baby. I don't know that he's wrong, I just don't like people who don't know me telling me what to do. He told me that if I got pregnant any sooner I would be nervous during the pregnancy. I actually laughed out loud, because if he knew me he would have known that I would be nervous regardless, and there is no magical time line that will cure me of my anxiety issues.

Lucas and I went to Tucson for 4th of July and for his grandpa's 90th birthday celebration. I kind of expected that seeing lots of family might be hard for me, but I didn't expect the tears to come at the fireworks show. As I looked around at the hundreds of people at the fair grounds with their babies, I just started getting so angry that Owen wasn't there for his first 4th of July. I pictured his sweet face in my head and imagined the cute flag outfit that I would have dressed him in. This image stuck with me the whole night and I cried all the way through the fireworks finale. I hope that he looked in on me and saw the fireworks from heaven.

I did pretty well at Grandpa's party and was feeling a little proud of myself, until it was time to take family pictures. The picture of all of the other great-grand children with their great grandpa proved too much for me to handle. I miss Owen so much I can't even stand it and it's so unfair that he wasn't there to be with his family. I should have been able to show off my beautiful son to everyone, and instead I carry around pictures of him in my purse so I can remind myself that he was real when I'm by myself. All of my strength dissolved and I cried for an hour.

Sometimes I just can't wrap my head around the fact that all of this actually happened to me. How could such a horrible thing actually have happened. He was here and he was mine and now he's gone and I can't ever hold him again. I try and close my eyes and remember exactly how it felt to hold him and to kiss his face because I'm so afraid that I'll forget. It hurts to talk about him but I think it hurts more to gloss over it all like it didn't happen. I don't know... sometimes it is nice to act like my old self, but sometimes I want to remember him out loud and tell people about him. He was my world and now that world is gone and it hurts.

I miss you baby :(