Weather always effects my mood…cloudy and dark makes me sad and sullen.  It’s the depression, I’m sure.

My insurance coverage changed in August.  I knew my employer had to make some adjustments to continue to be able to afford to cover us but I had no idea that it would effect the mental health coverage in the policy.  That’s right gang, no more therapy unless we want to pay for it and with Hubby being laid off, it’s not in the budget.  We might try and do 2 sessions a month once we get a little more “in the black” but right now, it’s not going to work out.  Nothing I can do about it except hope for health care reform that will include a mental health option.  So I’m sullen and depressed with no outlet…yeah.

We have to give up our boot camp sessions too.  We’ve been going 3 times a week for the last 5 months and it’s been great.  I haven’t really lost weight but I’ve toned up a lot.  I’m feeling confident that I can continue to work out on my own.  I have hand weights, a jump rope and 3 dogs who love to go for long and fast walks….I just need to make myself accountable to get up every other morning and go.  We just can’t afford to spent the money anymore.

Which brings me to a realization I had yesterday.  I think I’ve gone “soft.”  I used to not have the luxury of therapy and trainers and ready-made food and fancy coffee.  Since our income increased several years ago, I’ve gotten accustomed to “the good life” – which, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy but I’ve lost my ability to survive.  Part of that has to do with losing the boys – I’ve lost my will to survive, not just the ability to do so.  I think, at some point, I just decided I would float along until I got pregnant again – maybe in the hopes that would make “it” all okay and give me more of a sense of purpose.  I don’t know.  Until a couple of days ago, I was feeling good.  I felt confident that we would be having another baby soon.  I was hopeful, I was almost cheerful, even slightly happy.  But that happiness, like my pregnancies, seemed to end as quickly as it started.  I’m filled with doubt – have I ovulated yet, did we “do it” enough, is this “our month.”  So much doubt and fear and sadness…almost overwhelming…

Maybe I just need to sack up, stop feeling sorry for myself, stop feeling bad about myself and focus on the good things in life, things I want to accomplish.  It’s so hard to do though.  I know you other lost baby mamas and daddas understand this.  It all comes back to that one phrase…”I’m sorry, I’m not seeing a heartbeat.”  It resonates with me constantly.  It effects everything I do.

Looks like a 90% chance of rain today.

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I love this time of year – the beginning of September which leads to Fall and October and Halloween – which is my absolute favorite holiday.  August is over and that’s a relief and it’s too early to worry about Thanksgiving and Christmas and the inevitable depression that will come from missing the boys.  September on the beaches in North Carolina is ridiculously lovely and Hubby and I usually take advantage of the lack of tourists to head out there at least a couple of times before the warm weather is gone.  Here at home, the leaves change to amazing jewel tones that this California girl didn’t think occurred in nature.  I marvel at the fireworks show that the trees put on.  October brings Mullet Festival (the fish, not the hair) and the informal family reunion.  In years passed, I have dreaded going but this year, I’m looking forward to it.  My best friend, M, will be coming for the State Fair in mid-October and I can’t wait.  And then Halloween…my favorite…I’ve already planned costumes for us and priced new yard decorations.  The mums are in bloom already and I need to put some in the yard…Fall and mums to me is like milk and cookies.

But my heart is heavy.  I thought I would be pregnant again.  All the way pregnant – not just the slightly pregnant that my body seems to be fond of but really, truly and totally pregnant.  But not yet, not that I know of anyway….

My birthday was yesterday and I haven’t cried that much on my birthday in I don’t know how long.  I cried for the boys, I cried because of an insensitive comment said to Hubby in my presence that morning (“So Hubby, got anymore offspring?”), I cried for Craig and Mirne and baby Jet, I cried for the baby that would have been had I not miscarried in December.

In the midst of all my tears, I laughed a lot too.  I was reminded how loved I am.  I was reminded that in the midst of all the pain that I feel, people care for me, people think of me, people root for me.  I had over 60 messages on Facebook wishing me a happy birthday, numerous cards came in the mail, and I got a ton of phone calls throughout the day.  For someone feeling all alone with her grief, that’s powerfully healing. 

I think the hardest I laughed yesterday was when I got my gift from Hubby.  Hubby saw my post about wanting to learn the violin or mandolin so he found me a beautiful violin for my birthday and a woman to give me lessons at lunch.  He said that he thought I needed “a little more music in my life.”  He’s right.  I know I don’t deserve him.  He’s amazingly kind, thoughtful and caring.  I’ve never met a man like him. 

Over dinner, I said to him, “I can play the violin for our baby when he won’t stop crying.  You know?  Play him to sleep.”  That’s the first time I let myself hope for a future baby in a long time.  I surprised myself when I said it.  It’s been months since I thought of OUR baby actually happening again.

So, next birthday, I will be playing a concert (using the loose definition of “concert”) at my house.

Hopefully, our baby will be there.

As Popeye Would Say…

August 31, 2009

So I need to put this out there in the universe (who has been so gracious and kind to me these past 18 months…that’s sarcasm, just in case you were wondering…):  I can only do what I can do, you can accept that or not.

This is in response to a teeny, tiny, select group of people who seem to think that after 18 months, I should be fully capable of attending a baby shower, holding an infant or, for that matter, being in the same room with an infant.  I can’t talk about your perfect pregnancy in detail, I can’t look at ultrasound pictures.  I can ask you polite questions, I can watch your tummy get bigger, I can cheer you on when your due date arrives.  I can only do what I can do.

I need you to understand that it’s not jealousy.  I want another baby badly, I think I’ve made that clear on this blog and it’s very aggravating when people stand upwind of their husbands and get pregnant.  But I also still miss my boys.  I know you think that I should be okay after 18 months but I’m n0t.  I will be eventually but I’m not there yet.  Your ultrasound pictures? They bring up that day in the hospital when the Dr. S said, “I’m so sorry but I’m not seeing a heartbeat.”  You can’t imagine that pain and I hope you never find out.  That’s what I see when you email me your ultrasound pictures.  Your baby shower?  I can’t do it.  It’s not that I never got one.  I just can’t go and see all the tiny little outfits that my boys might have worn but now, never will.  If I hide your profile on Facebook because I can’t read any more posts about how sick/cranky/tired/whatever you are because you’re pregnant, it’s only because it would never occur to me to complain about something I loved, miss and desperately want back.  I rubbed my tummy, I sang to them, I gleefully looked forward to morning sickness because that meant I was pregnant.

I am what I am right now and I can only do what I can do. 

You can take or leave it.

Hope…

August 14, 2009

It is a funny thing, isn’t it?  I feel like all of you understood what I was trying to convey yesterday – I really appreciate that.  I want to be positive, I want to look forward to a future where I am pregnant for longer than a minute and it results in a live birth.  I want that, I really, really do.  However, my frustration is two-fold, I think. 

First, I have issues with this idea that with a positive outlook and a smile, I can somehow influence what will happen in this world.  If that were the case, I would have two living, breathing, healthy one year old boys and I don’t.  I begged, I pleaded, I made deals with the universe and the universe didn’t care – the boys died.  I had an army of people praying, being positive, hoping that my boys would be okay and it didn’t work.  I also understand that the therapist is not blaming me for not being pregnant because I don’t have a happy outlook on the whole situation.  I don’t feel like there is any judgment.  Any guilt or anger that I feel is self-made.  My friend F and I have talked about the idea that my grief could be acting as a barrier to getting pregnant again and I agree that it’s not healthy.

Second and I think, more prominent in my emotional psyche is the fact that I start to cry whenever anyone talks about Hubby and I having more children.   I think that the therapist is thinking that the only way to work through the grief is to hope for the one thing that is causing the grief – a baby.  Except that won’t work.  My grief is caused by the death of my boys.  I’m want a baby with my husband but that’s not the reason why I cry in the shower.  I cry because I want my boys and there is nothing anyone can do about that.  I’m have that moment every two year old has when she’s given a beautiful ice cream cone with two scoops and she drops it.  Even if you replace the cone, I’m still crying over the one I lost.  I want my boys.  It’s not rational and I don’t know what to do about that.  Maybe the therapist does.

And maybe this why when I look at adoption websites, I can’t take the next step.  Or maybe I’m not willing to give up on my fertility.  There is an information session in Raleigh on September 12th for an adoption organization that would work with us in terms of money.  I’ve thought about going but I haven’t talked to Hubby.  I can’t even think about pursuing that path without talking to him extensively.  I’m afraid it would look like I’m giving up.  I’m not.  I don’t want to give up.  I want to be pregnant again and have a baby with Hubby.  I don’t want my only memories of being pregnant and giving birth to be what they are now.  But practical me also knows that this is taking a long time and Hubby and I want 2 children.  I’m not getting any younger and those screwy eggs of mine, they aren’t getting any fresher. 

But that makes it sound like I want just any baby and I will feel better if I just get A BABY and all will be right with the world.  I know that’s not the case because when I look at the websites, I think about the boys AND they are what I want. 

I can’t move forward and I can’t get back what I’ve lost and I don’t know what to do.

Today

August 7, 2009

Baby Boys:

Today would be your first birthday and I hate that you aren’t here for it.  I love you and I miss you terribly.

Love,

Your Mommy

Quiet

August 4, 2009

I know that I have been quiet. 

I should be planning a first birthday party for my boys this weekend and I’m not. 

I don’t know what to do with how bad I feel without them.

A Second Poem…

July 21, 2009

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