Opening Up…

It’s getting easier to talk about the boys.  I noticed yesterday when I relayed the story of the “induction discussion” to the therapist, I didn’t cry, I didn’t get angry…I just told her how it bothered me but that I wasn’t surprised, people outside of my “invisible army” (thanks MisterIVF, I think that’s going to stick) don’t understand but that I would just try and let it roll off my back…I talked a lot about how I feel horrible for the time that Hubby spent alone while I was gorked out on morphine but I did so without falling completely apart. 

I do, however, I feel like grief is cyclical and that I might just be a mess tomorrow or Monday or whenever…I don’t know…I keep getting my hopes up that the pain will be less intense but then it smacks me upside the head.  Sucks.  The boys first birthday would be next week…sigh.  K and I are going to lunch.  I’m lucky to have her.  I’m lucky to have all of you in real life and in the bloggy world.

I heard an author talking about her poetry on NPR yesterday.  She wrote a book to cope with the grief and loss after the murder of her daughter called, “Slamming Open the Door.”  She read a poem she wrote about things that you don’t say to someone who was grieving….it was sad and funny and very relatable for me…I sat in the parking lot of the Harris Teeter and cried and laughed as she read it.  I ordered it from Amazon, I will keep you posted.

I found a piece of jewelry I want.  I was going to ask Hubby for it for my birthday but I think I will just order it for myself.  I’m a little afraid he will think it’s dumb or silly or that I’m wallowing…not that he would say that but he worries about my mental health (probably rightly so) and I don’t like making him worry.  Anywho, it’s neat stuff and I corresponded with the artist to get her to make some changes to the pieces so they would be perfect for the boys.  I love the keychain that K got me and it made me realize that I was okay to have something that commemorates them.  I’ll post the link to the artist soon…

Moving Forward and Looking Back….

So my friend, J, said no to the certificates.  She has her reasons and I won’t share them here but I understand and respect her honesty.  I think I have a backup plan with the help of my good friend, K….I will keep you posted.

Apparently, I am not the only one who gets little flashbacks from the Labor and Delivery room…

Hubby and I went to a ball game on Saturday with a group of sorority alum and husbands.  Somewhere during the game, the subject of when the cut off birthday is for kids to start school here came up.  It’s August 31st.  My friend’s baby is due the 27th, I think so she and her husband starting talking about how induction HAD to happen on whatever date and such…sadly, me and Hubby were sitting in between them so they were having this conversation over us.  My friend’s hubby said something about, “well, as least it will be quick…” and Hubby said, “really?  That wasn’t our experience…”  The friend’s hubby didn’t miss a beat and said, “oh that’s just the first one…”  At which point, Hubby looked at me and said, “sure they tell you takes 6 hours but 48 hours later and you are still there, right?  Let’s go take a walk…”

See the doctors told us that usually, once the drugs are administered, the whole process is over in a couple of hours since my body should be ready and willing to “give up” the babies – we would be home by Sunday afternoon at the latest.  The fact that the pills kicked in at 7pm on Saturday night and went full force for another 48 hours has been a constant source of pain for Hubby – I don’t remember most of it.  Hubby insisted that I get the maximum amount of morphine allowable during this time so I slept for most of Saturday night and Sunday.  That means that he was essentially alone, in the room with his thoughts for that whole time – alone to take care of me.  When my IV would run out, he would go find a nurse to replace it.  When it was time for the next application of the drug, he would go and find a resident to give it to me…He was all alone during this time…The discussion on Saturday of the joys and convenience of induction really brought back those feelings of fear and grief and loneliness and sadness…for both of us.

A Second Poem…

Amy from Surviving the Day sent me this poem yesterday.  I love it, I think it’s perfect – I love the two petals.  It’s another one to add to my collection of “things”.  Not sure what I am doing with these “things” yet but I’m leaning towards a box…Still no word from the friend regarding the certificates.  I understand it’s hard to think about and I’m going to be patient until I hear from her.  Thank you for all the amazing thoughts and words…my little invisible army…thanks.

MEMORY

My mind lets go a thousand things,

Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,

And yet recalls the very hour - 

‘Twas noon by yonder village tower,

And on the last blue moon in May - 

The wind came briskly up this way,

Crisping the brook beside the road;

Then, pausing here, set down its load

Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly

Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

~ Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Poem

My friend, T, she’s my sorority sister and one of my people.  She’s lost 2 little girls (at separate times,  no less).  She sent me this in response to my last posting.  I thought I would share.  I’m thinking that I will take some of the suggestions and finish their baby book with the ultrasound pictures and the cards – maybe find a box to put it all in.  I can do this when Hubby is out of town next week…I haven’t heard from J, I will keep you posted as to what she says…if the answer is no, I might make a plea to all my crafty and creative readers to help me with this….

My Child

You left this life too soon, my child.
Your arrival to our family was greatly anticipated.
We cherished the opportunity t o share our love
And watch you grow and become your own person.
But you were taken from us too soon.

We will go on without you, although it will be difficult.
You will be missed and loved for as long as we live.
May we be together on the other side of this life.
A star will always shine brightly in our hearts for you.
Thank you for blessing our lives even so briefly.

Goodbye, my dear child!

Mending My Heart…

I called on Monday to have the boys’ death certificates amended to include their names.  We didn’t give their names to the doctor at the hospital, I can’t remember…morphine….

The boys don’t have death certificates.

They never drew a breath outside of my belly.  I was told that they aren’t entitled to any certificate.

Why does this bother me so?  Yeah, I don’t know.  I discussed this at length with the therapist and she thinks that I just need something to hold on to so that I don’t feel like they are slipping away or that I needed this for closure.  I don’t know.  I feel like the universe gave me closure when it took them from me.  I’ve struggled with how I wanted to remember them, what I’ve wanted something that I could look at if I wanted to but put away if I needed to.  A tattoo is not something I can just put away…a piece of jewelry maybe?  Nothing I have seen has spoken to me in away that I would want to remember the boys.  I have a great key chain that I love but I can’t decide if I want something I can put in their baby book or…I just don’t know….I feel unsettled…

I took a deep breath this morning, swallowed my tears and emailed a friend who draws – J, she’s a sorority sister who lives in San Fran.  I wanted to call her but it’s been to hard to even say the words to Hubby.  He doesn’t know there are no death certificates.  I don’t know if it will matter to him.  Anywho, I’ve asked her to make me certificates for the boys.  I have no idea what she will say…it’s a lot to ask someone – “can you sit down for a couple of hours and make a little memorial to my dead babies? ”  Good times.

I’m hoping she will say yes but if not, I will find something else…I think I need to do this.

Lost

I really do feel like I’m losing it.  I’m angry and sad and frustrated and I cry a lot.  “Sounds like depression,” you say, and I would agree with you if I wasn’t being medicated for depression already and seeing a therapist.  I mean who has lists of baby names in their head but no baby yet?  Who has visions of having twins again, knowing the likelihood of it happening again is slim?  Who dreams of babies who are long, long gone?  I’m going crazy, aren’t I?

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I put a lot of hope and faith in the Clomid and twice now, it’s not worked.  I feel like we did everything right and it didn’t work.  We probably did do everything right.  I know that you can do everything right every month and it still won’t happen right away (unless you are any number of my friends and my sister in law and then, rest assured, you will get pregnant within minutes of deciding you want to be…do I sound bitter?  That’s because I am and I don’t care…).  We have one more month of Clomid and my understanding is that it’s magical powers will stay in my system for up to 60 days.  After that, I don’t think I want anymore.  The side effects suck and I still have no baby(ies)…I can have no baby(ies) and not feel physically like crap sans Clomid, thank you very much.

I’m tired of whining and crying, I’m tired of friends having to pick up the pieces, I’m tired of all of you having to be my cheerleaders…I know that I need to get over this, I keep telling myself that but I just don’t know what to do to feel better…

I’m truly feeling lost….

Passing Me By…

The world around me keeps moving forward and I can’t.  I don’t know what’s happened in the last 2 weeks that has made me feel as bad I did when we first lost the boys.  I can’t shake these overwhelming feelings of sadness and loss and hopelessness.  Maybe it’s because everyone around me is having a baby.  Maybe it’s that their due date is approaching again.  They would be a year old in 3 weeks.  Even people who have lost babies are getting pregnant again.  Why not me?  How is this my life?  How the hell did I get here?  What did I do to deserve this?

The Clomid didn’t work this month.  I spent the whole weekend crying.  I haven’t cried as hard or for as long as I did on Saturday and Sunday in a really long time.  It was the “crying so hard you gag” sobbing that some of you may be familiar with, the strangled sobbing that makes the puppy curl up next to you out of fear that something is really wrong with you…luckily, the eyelashes seem to have stayed put.  The same words keep running through my head, “the boys were it.  They were the only children you are going to get.  You blew it.  You some how screwed this up for you and Hubby.  You don’t get any more babies.  You can’t afford adoption and  IVF won’t help you.  You are done being a mother.”

It’s sad but that’s the truth – that’s what is going on in my head.  I’m losing hope.  As much as I know people are rooting for me, praying for me, and comforting me…I just don’t know how to hang on anymore.  I just keep remembering how stupidly happy I was when we got pregnant with the boys on the first try.  So stupid of me to think that things would work out.  I should have twin year old baby boys right now.  I don’t.

I have one more month of the Clomid but I’m not taking it this month.  My ability to predict ovulation has been really off (no idea if it was the tests or me or what) and Hubby will be out of town the last week in July and first week in August so I figure, we do it before he leaves and if ovulation happens after, well, so be it but we won’t have wasted the last month of Clomid on this cycle.

I doubt I will ask the doctor for anymore unless Hubby wants me to, I just can’t keep riding this roller coaster anymore.

The “it will happen when it happens” policy isn’t working for me and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

Rooting for Me

This is a bit of a followup to yesterday’s post.  When I got home last night, there was a package from a friend – a fellow Sigma Kappa – who makes jewelry (actually, it’s funny because I have two friends who are Sigma Kappas and make jewelry – this is “B”).  She had responded to my cry for a need for something to change my luck, cleanse my aura, whatever and she made me 2 necklaces and a bracelet.  One necklace is amber with amethyst, the other is moonstone with a matching bracelet.  Each type of stone has a meaning but really, what I wanted to talk about was the the spirit of the pieces themselves.

See, I forget, I have people rooting for me.  Everyday, countless people root for me.  I have a keychain that K gave me marking the year anniversary of when the boys were born that I look at daily and know, she is hoping and wishing that things will be good for me.  She’s on my team.  I have people like G, who read yesterday’s post and say, “oh, looks like we need a lunch, how’s next week?”  I know that I am often in her thoughts.  People like my West Coast K, who sends notes almost weekly, just checking in and always knows the right thing to say.  People like B who make lovely, lovely things to reverse my bad “mojo” and whether it works or not (and I do beleive these things work), I wear this necklace today and know that she is rooting for me.

For me, it’s still a struggle to get up in the morning.  It’s hard to face the day knowing that your children died and I don’t know any other way to say that to people.  It’s hard and that may seem obvious but unless you live it, you have no idea how hard.  These little things, along with the intense love that I have for Hubby and that I know he has for me, they help me remember that people are rooting for me, they help me get up and go on.

So does that mean I’m coming out of hiding? 

Yes, but slowly. 

And on my own terms.

You still won’t see me at a baby show anytime soon.

Hiding

I’ve been hiding.  I admit it.  Except for a few select people, I don’t want to be around anyone.  I’ve been bad about returning calls, answering emails, accepting invitations.  I’ve used the excuse that I’ve been busy with work – which is partially true.  With several people being on vacation, I have been busy but that’s not the total reason.

I’m tired of hearing about this person is pregnant or that person just had their baby…it’s hard on me.  As much as I want to be that person who can rise above all of the pain and grief that I still feel and be happy for someone else…I can’t.  And honestly, I am too tired to pretend anymore.  If that makes me a bad person, that’s fine, I can live with that.  I’m protecting myself and while I hate that some people’s feelings are going to get hurt, I’m too sad and too broken to care anymore.  Congratulations and call me when it’s over.

And I realize that separating myself from people is not good.  I get that.  Particularly with the depression looming over me.  But honestly, I am tired of being the only person at the party with no kids.  I swear to God, if I hear one more person say, “I went off birth control and got pregnant the next month!”  Guess what?  So did I.  The boys still died.  Or I just love when the conversation drifts to, “oh and when I was delivering…”  Just once, I’m going to pipe up and say, “really? I don’t remember that but that could be the massive amounts of morphine that was coursing through my veins so that I would actually NOT remember delivering two dead babies…”

See, probably shouldn’t be around people anyway….

A Good Night’s Sleep…

I’ve never been someone who sleeps well.  Even as a kid, I would sleep sporadically.  In college and law school, I required 4-5 hours a night (of course, there were naps to be taken too).  I take a long time to fall asleep and my mind is easily distracted particularly because I worry a lot.  People laugh when I tell them that I am usually in bed at 9:30 or 10:00pm because it will take me a good hour or so to finally pass out.  I think that’s why when I do falling asleep, I sleep like I’ve got earplugs in…nothing will wake me it seems…I go through cycles where I do okay and then I will have bouts of fitful, fragmented sleep.  Maybe this happens to everyone…I don’t know.  Reading before bed helps, so does consistent exercise…

I mention this because when we initially lost the boys, my biggest reaction was the lack of sleep and that didn’t surprise me.  Take a person who already doesn’t sleep well and throw in the weighty grief of losing two children and of course, I’m not going to sleep.  The result?  You get one tired me.  And when I did finally sleep, I would dream the same dream over and over.  Little baby boys crying and I couldn’t find them.  I would search and search and they would be just out of reach to me…telling isn’t it?

Last night I had a new version of the dream.  This is the first time in months, I’ve dreamed about them.  I was standing on a cliff, screaming their names…at the top of my lungs, I was screaming for them.  I woke up about 4 times last night with the same dream over and over.  Needless to say, I didn’t get up at 5am for bootcamp this morning.

And I feel like crap today.  Not only because I didn’t sleep worth a damn but I am obviously, completely and totally disturbed by this dream.  I can still feel what it was like to stand on that cliff and want my boys so badly.  Screaming for them.  I know they aren’t lost, they are dead – I know that – but to me, it feels the same, I guess…

I don’t know what to do with this today…