Frustration

October 1, 2008

I don’t want to say this but I feel like I’m not pregnant.  I had such high hopes but I just feel like, for some reason, it didn’t happen this month.  That, coupled with the fact that I feel so unattractive right now.  I’m not in the best shape, I’m weak and flabby.  I’m very quick to come to tears today and did so at the end of yoga class (it’s the stress being released but it’s still embarrassing).  I find myself giving up on things.  Or not even wanting to do things.  Every ounce of strength, physical and emotional, seems to be gone, just drained out of me.  I feel done, spent.

And the stupid thing is, I went to book club with Robin and had a blast.  I talked about fun stuff like boobies and plastic surgery and had in depth conversations about politics with really smart, funny women, making fun of Sarah Palin.  It was exactly what I needed and what the old me craved and would have just revealed in.  I talked to people, made conversation, experienced only a tiny bit of anxiety when I walked in but that was it.  It was fun.

And now today, I’m barely hanging on to my sanity here and it’s pissing me off that I’m so easily frustrated and discouraged like this.  The old me would just shake off this melancholy and taken the dogs for a walk.  This “after loss of babies grieving me” can’t get it together.

I just feel so ridiculous.

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Two In My Heart…

September 26, 2008

Well, I think I have solved one of my many problems….

Those of us who have lost babies struggle with what to say when someone says, “do you have kids?”  This is incredibly hard to answer because, yes, we do but they died.  As soon as I say to you, “I was pregnant with twin boys but I lost them,” my relationship with you is forever changed.  If I say, “no, I don’t,” I feel crappy because I want to acknowledge my boys not lie about what happened.  I carried them for 22 weeks and I gave birth to them and I love them and I miss them and I ache for them every minute of every day.  And since most people are inherently nosy, I know that I will continually face this dilemma.

My policy before had been to be honest.  Screw you if you felt bad for me or guilty for asking or if you didn’t want to talk about my loss, that’s your damage not mine.  I looked at the act of being honest as an act of courage.  Everytime I told my story, I healed a little bit and I honored their memory.  But I always hated telling a nosy stranger about my boys.  It does take a lot out of me to talk about them.  I’m exhausted after talking about them with someone who needs the whole story.  Hell you guys (well, most of you) don’t even know their names and we talk about my adventures in cervical mucus.  Doesn’t seem right to share something so intimate with a nosy stranger.  And it’s hard on me.

My solution came when I was talking to another blogger who feels she failed at being a mother.  I told her that she couldn’t have failed because her baby was in her heart and soon she would have another baby in her hands.  That’s when it hit me.  That was my answer.

So ask me.  Go ahead and ask me if I have kids.  Here is my answer:

“Yes, I do, I have two babies in my heart.”

And I can’t wait to have one in my hands.

My People…

September 25, 2008

If you are my people, you should read this article from the NY Times.  It’s very good.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/fashion/21love.html?ei=5124&en=563eab88929a620c&ex=1379563200&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink&pagewanted=all

So I may have mentioned that I get a little freaked out around “people.”  It’s not so much strangers but people who know that I was pregnant and know what happened.  I still have a tiny voice in my head that tells me that someone thinks I did something to cause the death of the boys and that they think it was my fault that the boys died.  It’s not rational but hey, I’m not known for my rationality – just ask my hubby.

I finally agreed to attend the family reunion in October.  I haven’t seen much of my family since the loss of the babies and in fact, I don’t think any of them actually saw me pregnant.  I had planned to visit for Easter but was on bed rest and then Mother’s Day, well, I wasn’t in the mood for company.  Part of me feels like if I go to the reunion, I have to come for Thanksgiving and then there is Christmas.  I feel like if we attend events at my families’ house, we have go to hubby’s families’ house for Christmas and I can’t do it.  His cousin’s baby will be 3 months old, his sister’s baby will be 2 months old…our babies would have been 4 months old.  They had Christmas outfits with reindeer faces on the butt….it’s not fucking fair!  See?  Not the best attitude for Christmas.

But I am going to the reunion because Cousin Jen-Jen will be there and Michelle is flying out.  I am only going because Michelle agreed to come.  Otherwise, I don’t think that Jen-Jen and Hubby are enough of an arsenal to protect me from the stupid things that people will say.  Not so much the family but people who come 5 minutes before dinner is served and leave 10 minutes after.  They don’t help set up and they sure as hell don’t stay for clean up but for some reason they have no problem saying, “Martha, when you and Hubby gonna get knocked up?”  That was last year and I can’t guarantee that they will pull their heads out of their asses or lift their faces from their troughs long enough to remember that my babies died.

And therefore, every time I think about going, I feel like the room is closing in on me….

In short – you don’t.

Not the same way you did when your child was alive.

I finally sat down and watched “One Tree Hill” last night (don’t judge me, at least it’s not “American Idol” or “Dancing With the Stars” and you know you watch trashy TV too).  I have been a fan of the show for a while but this episode was about grief and loss.  I knew it would be a tough one and I debated whether to watch.  Since hubby was at karate tonight, I decided to sit down and see how far I got with the episode.

That line, “how can a mother ever breath again?” is brilliant.  It’s brilliant because it’s true.  I can’t explain to you what this pain feels like.  I can’t articulate how somedays the pain sits right in the middle of my throat and I am lucky if I can eat or drink or speak.  I used to watch shows like this and think, “gosh, that’s awful and so sad” but now, now I know.  I know.  I hate that I know.*

And in someways, I think I am lucky.  My children didn’t died in front of me.  They didn’t suffer, there was no illness, no accident, I didn’t have to “pull a plug,” there was no horrible malpractice, there is no one to blame.  They just died.  It’s hard to say that still, 5-6 months later.  They died.  They are no more in the physical world, only my heart.  There is no tomorrow for them.  But there is something comforting in the quickness and gentleness of it.  That’s what we members of the “Stillborn Sorority” do, we find solace in things that normal, regular, non-grief stricken people would never think about.  It’s a form of acceptance that borders on a secret handshake and is ridiculously morbid in the real world.

So I don’t breath the same way I did before I lost them but I am still breathing.  Some days it’s harder than others but I have come to the realization that I will be able to survive this.  That’s more than I could say 6 months ago – even just 2 months ago.  I literally felt that I would never be able to move forward, that I would be “stuck” here in this vast deep, dark ocean of grief. 

But honestly, I am scared at how quiet I have gotten.  Do you remember that scene in “Steel Magnolias” at Shelby’s funeral when Maylin loses it?  She freaks out, she screams that “no, this isn’t happening.  Why?” and she starts to tear at her hair and get angry.  Do you remember that scene?  Well, I can tell you, that’s grief.  That’s new, raw, painful grief.  I have done that.  Thrown pillows, hit walls, screamed.  Done it all.

But now?  Now I am quiet.  I am sad and lonely and angry but I don’t scream and cry like I used to.  I’m just quiet.  I go to yoga and acupuncture and I live my life but I am still so sad and so lost.  I don’t know if this quietness is good or not.

But quiet or not, good or bad, I am breathing again.

 

*Yes, I know it’s make believe but it’s still very realistic.  I am many things but delusional is not one of them – yet.

My People.

September 15, 2008

If you are my people, please stop by Rebuilding Myself’s blog at http://hisaak.wordpress.com/2008/09/

She is my people in that she lost her twin girls at 19 and 1/2 weeks in November. 

Her new baby, her “Bug,” had no heartbeat at the ultrasound on Friday, please send a thought or a prayer (if you do that) or just a note saying your heart is breaking for her.  I know mine is.

Time Travel

August 12, 2008

There are some days that I just wish I could speed up time.  I wish I could go forward in time to where this doesn’t hurt so bad.  Forward to when we are trying for another baby and then past that to when we can take a HPT and get a positive result.  I just want to hit all the happy spots in my life right now.  I am tired of the sadness and disappointment.  I want to have weekends like this past weekend where we laughed and had fun and life was like it was before we lost the boys.  I want to have days where I am productive at work and not totally paralyzed by grief and sadness that I can only function for a half hour at a time.

Then there are other days that I wish I could go back in time.  No, I am not sadistic but I would do anything to go back and feel them kick me again.  I would make my husband hold his hand on my belly for hours just so he could get another good kick in (instead of only the one kick he felt in the car that one time).  I would go back and take more pictures of what I looked like pregnant.  I would be better about filling out their baby book (because now it’s too hard to go back and do it).  I would kill to be able to rub my belly and sing to them in the morning.  I would go back to the minute I found out I was pregnant and I would replace that tiny little voice of fear (you know, the “Oh my god, 2 lines means what?” voice) with one of joy.  I can’t say that I would appreciate the pregnancy more because I was grateful at the time and I am grateful now for getting to be pregnant, knowing what it felt like to be their mom for 5 months but there are still things that I would give anything to do one more time.  I would take away the pain in my husband’s eyes.

Mr. Demille, I am ready for my baby.  Now.  I don’t want to replace my boys but I was ready when I got pregnant with them and I am ready now.  Again.  I am sad they are gone and I miss them but I want my next baby.  And I want to skip forward to whenever that next baby is coming, please.  I’m tired of this sadness and anger and disappointment.  When is it my time?  I am tired of being surrounded by pregnant women and infants and trying to smile when I really want to scream, “why me? why me?  WHY?  Why did this happen to US?” 

Well.  There it is, isn’t it?  I am still angry.  And I am not going to get my next baby until I am not so angry and not so sad, am I?

Now who out there has a flux capacitor I can borrow?*

* Bonus points if you know what a “flux capacitor” is….