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.”