The Room

November 2, 2009

It’s there.  In the house.  The room that was to be the boys’ room.  It’s filled with baby boy clothes, toys, a crib, a car seat, broken dreams, dashed hopes, lots of sadness.  I haven’t set foot in that room since we moved in.  The crib was never set up in there, the decorations never hung on the wall, the walls never painted.  I can’t even tell you what the closet looks like in there – the last time I saw it, I was pregnant and we didn’t own the house and now, I can’t really remember life before April 8th. 

I walk past the door about 14 times a day and I think, “I’m never going to get in that room.”  I lay in bed at night and I can see the door from where I lay and I think, “I’m never going to get up in the middle of the night, pad across the hall, scoop up my crying baby and rock him back to sleep.  It’s never going to happen for me.”  I lay there, not sleeping, staring at the door.

This is my life now.  Trying to live with my disappointment.  Trying to survive this loss.  I thought I was doing okay but really, these last few weeks…I’m not.  I’m not okay.  I want so badly to look at the people around me and say, “help me.  Please, help me.  I’m hurt and I can’t go to the doctor to fix it because it’s deep down inside….they won’t know what to do for me…Someone please just take me in your arms and hold me, let me cry…”  I have conversations with people about the weather, books, shopping, whatever but my eyes are searching their faces, begging, “please, ask me how I am…ask me about them…ask me if I’m okay….but only if your prepared for the answer…I can’t freely give this information if you don’t mean it when you ask the question, if you are not prepared for the answer then don’t ask…”

But I don’t.  I’m supposed to be better.  I’m supposed to be moving forward.  The people around me, they have lives, they can’t be taking care of me.  I have to take care of myself and Hubby.  I’ve always taken care of myself.  Always.  I have to be strong, I can’t fall apart again.

I want to get into that room…I want a baby to hold and cuddle and love who will live in that room but I fear that will never happen.  I want my boys and I KNOW that won’t happen.

 

Silver

October 29, 2009

I have moments where I think “it didn’t really happen.  I didn’t really lose my boys.”  I do, really, all these months later – over a year later – I still think, “it didn’t happen.” 

I saw the lady with the silver in her hair at Fosters again.  I’m a little fascinated by her.  I sat there, watching her read her book, eating her sandwich and I thought, “that will be me in a couple of years.”  I’m so far lost in grief and disappointment that I can’t see soccer games, birthday parties and Halloween costumes.  I just see aging – getting older without children to run after.

I don’t know when I starting losing the ability to see a future that has a child in it.  Just last month I was thinking about and actually talking about playing the violin for my baby….now, I just can’t imagine it.  I try really hard to see our baby and all I see are my boys.

Squashed…

October 28, 2009

That’s how I feel.  I feel squashed.  Hopes, dreams, desires, everything just feels squashed.  I can’t even breathe right now, I’m just so defeated and deflated.  I continue to try and find options for financing for adoption and I think that I’m out of options.  A personal loan is the only thing I can think of that I haven’t tried and no one is giving personal loans.  Hell, Hubby couldn’t even get student loans this year without his mother cosigning for him and they used to hand that money out like it was prostitute advertisements on the Vegas Strip.  My last ditch effort was trying to take a loan against my life insurance policy and I was denied (haven’t had the policy long enough).

I haven’t felt this bad in a while.  When the world around you seems to be moving forward and you feel stuck, it’s hard not to feel bad.  I hate feeling sorry for myself, I hate it.  I’m trying to be proactive and do something to ensure that the boys will have brothers and sisters.  I’m trying but I can’t do anything right.  I can’t make money grow on trees or my fucked up genes split properly and aligned with each other so as to produce a beautiful sibling for A and B. 

Compounding this is that I want to be happy for all of my pregnant friends but the ones that haven’t had losses, it’s hard to get excited for them.  I know that sounds screwed up.  I totally understand that some of you might read that and think, “what a bitch.”  Those women get to be part of a club that I will never belong to…”the blissfully ignorant shiny new baby mommy club.”  Not me, I will never get that again.  Fine, I’m a bitch.   And that’s totally not fair to those women because I would hate for anyone to feel as bad as I do right now.  I wouldn’t wish this on anyone – not my worst enemy…so I’m considerate and sweet and post congratulations and send cards and gifts when all I really want to do it scream, “I’M SO PISSED OFF AT THE UNIVERSE RIGHT NOW I CAN’T STAND IT!!!!”

I think to myself, “I really want to be pregnant again and you know, this will be THE month it happens” and I smile like a jackass.  And then negative me counters with, “get pregnant all you want, honey, you will never make it to 40 weeks – hell, you won’t make it past 8 weeks.”  And there are lots of tears alone in the car.  What do I do with negative me?  She’s right, that’s the thing, she’s right.  All I know is that I fear getting pregnant but I want to be pregnant more than anything but one thing – I just want my boys back.

Spiraling…

October 26, 2009

Yup, that’s me.  I’m spiraling into sadness once again.   This is just another month where I’m plotting and planning when Hubby and I are supposed to do ‘it.”  Yet again, I think “I shouldn’t have to be worrying about this….I should have two little boys to fuss over for Halloween.”

But I don’t.

The unconfirmed loss of last month has left me reeling…again….but why?  Why shouldn’t I be used to these losses?  Realistically, this is going to be our life – our reality –  until we conceive and carrying again past 23 weeks, why am I not used to that fact yet?  These feelings of grief and loss are exacerbated by the fact that I found out we can’t refinance our home to pay for adoption costs.  Apparently home prices have dropped in the area and we don’t have enough equity to take out a loan to cover the costs of adoption.  What a surprise that something didn’t work out for us….I’m shocked (that’s sarcasm in case you are new to my blog – nothing goes the way it’s supposed to for me – the universe hates me). 

Oh and there may be a third thing contributing to my downward spiral….On Friday, I tried to have a conversation with my mother about adoption and for some fucked up reason, she asked me if I was pregnant.  Sidebar: she makes it sound like an accusation when she asks….”Are you preg-a-nant?”  She sounds out the syllables just like that.  It makes me feel like she’s disapproving of me….this is the woman who said, “I don’t know how I feel about that…” when she bullied me into telling her I was pregnant with the boys.  Anywho, why the fuck would I be talking to her about adoption if I was pregnant and then I remembered, I had been pregnant up until Monday.  Just a little bit anyway so prehaps it was a valid question.  Still, she switched the subject after I said no and wanted to discuss her dog.  I try to have a relationship with her but really, I’m just being polite now…I really feel like she doesn’t want to hear anything of substance.  It’s strange, I used to tell her everything…

I want so badly to be pregnant again.  I have a myriad of friends who are pregnant – some getting ready to deliver any day now.  I feel so angry and hurt and left out and why?  This shouldn’t be new to me…this is where I’ve been since April 8th, 2008.  I should be used to standing in the shadows, used to the fact that I envy people who are pregnant, I should be used to disappointment.

I feel like such a disappointment.

Losing the Battle…

October 6, 2009

I heard this quote this morning on NPR:

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ” – Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms.

I had forgotten about this book and this quote having read it YEARS ago.  When the person being interviewed said the quote, he was referencing his own war experiences.  He mistakenly thought the quote was a reflection of the character “Henry” and, by extension, Hemingway’s experience of being wounded in a mortar attack in Italy during World War I.

In fact, the quote is made by the character “Henry” in reference to his son being born still, not war.  I realized as I was driving that while the interviewee attributed the quote to the wrong loss for the main character, death of our boys was like a battle.  It was like a war.  I’m hurt, I’m bruised and bloodied.  Hubby is wounded – there exists collateral damage in our life.  There is tremendous loss and a deep well of anger.  There are days when The Battle of Grief and Loss is more costly than any other war I can think of…There are days when I’m sure I’m losing The Battle and those are days I am grateful for The Silent Army…

I just wish The Battle would end soon….

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.

Okay, Well, Maybe Not…

August 26, 2009

We got the information on adoption over the weekend.  The amount of money required was not horrific.  The problem is that we need SOOOO much up front to even get started (I think, I can’t really understand the whole “process” since the information packet seemed to be a mish/mash of flyers).  I think we need to hear what they say at the information session.  It’s a lot of money to swing upfront and I don’t think we can borrow from family members even with the promise of the tax credit to pay it back.  I applied for an increase in my Care Credit card but I think it was such a large amount over what I had for my Lasik, they were like, “oh hell no lady…”  I also applied for a Visa from the National Adoption Foundation but I heard from the bank folks downstairs that no one is getting any credit from anywhere so I shouldn’t be surprised if it was denied…and it was….great….

So now I am looking into “additional income sources” to build up the adoption fund – no people, not porn…I am a Reiki practitioner (this is a good blog that talks about Reiki if you care http://reikiblogger.com/).  I did it in college to make some extra money and that was when no one knew what yoga was, let alone Reiki.  Basically paid my sorority dues.  The more I think about it, the more I wonder if getting back to Reiki would help with my own healing.   Part of me is scared because every time I have done treatments on myself, I’ve cried a lot and had a lot of “backlash” (basically it’s the grief and sadness working it’s way out but it’s still very painful).  I’m chicken to work through some of the stuff I need to work through but I know there will be no healing without it.  If I were my own client, I would scold me but I do enough self-hating on my own so I won’t add that to the list.  Now, I just need to see if this type of thing will fly in a recession…

I also wussed out on the group therapy session that I was going to attend with http://ourbabyboy25.blogspot.com/  I couldn’t face standing up and saying, “Hi, I’m Martha, my twin boys died and I’m really screwed up….”  I couldn’t do it this month.  I’ll work up to next month.  My friend, F heard me laugh today, she said it was something she hadn’t heard in months….I realized, I really don’t do it that often anymore…I’m treating life like a river and I’m just floating down it without any expectations.  It’s a nice image but not really how I’m used to living.  I want to look forward to the future but I can’t – actually, more accurately – I don’t know how.

So I had a strange experience on Saturday – one that made me question some peoples’ parenting choices and also made me wonder when I do finally get another baby, if I will forget what it was like to want one so badly.

So to set the scene, my therapy dog, Quincy and I, volunteer at a local library as part of a program called, “Sit!  Stay!  Read!”  We spend an hour and a half to two hours with children who have difficulty reading and need extra practice.  The kids read to the dogs because the dogs have no judgment and it gets the kids excited about the library and books and reading.

We had been there about 30 minutes and had a couple of kids read to Quincy (he’s very popular because he’s big, shiny white and fluffy – he’s the canine version of a Panda bear and kids love him).  A girl, her sister and her mother approached us with their choices in books and ask to read to Quincy.  I said, “of course, he’d love that!”  Now Girl was about 11 years old, I think and Sister was probably 9 years old.  Girl pulled out “Multiple Bles8ings: Surviving to Thriving with Twins and Sextuplets” by Kate Gosselin.  I looked up for Mom and she appeared to have no problem with this…this book seemed a little odd for an 11 year old and a 9 year old but it’s not my place to comment on the book but I really, really wanted to.  Instead, I said that I thought it was a little long and did they have something else a little shorter.  Of course they did and pulled out “Eight Little Faces” by Kate Gosselin.  I said, “so, you guys are really interested in Jon and Kate Plus Eight?”  “Oh yes, we watched the show all the time, we are a little obsessed with them…”  Mom is shaking her head in agreement during this exchange…Alright, this seems like a strange show and not all that appropriate for pre-teen girls butl, I can’t argue that “Eight Little Faces” was too long because it’s essentially a picture book with a couple of words of encouragement from Kate Gosselin, so we got started….

Girl flipped to the middle and started reading about…..contentment.  Kate Gosselin was “writing” a quick, touchy-feely blurb about how difficult the first couple of months with the twins and then the sextuplets were and how she was now content with where she was in her life (granted people, this was way before Jon trucked off with someone else).  She was right where God wanted her to be and that if more people sought and found contentment, they would be as happy as her.  There was more to it but those words are what struck me….

I don’t have contentment.  I don’t have peace.  I feel like it’s easy for people who have what they most desire to say, if “you find contentment and peace, you will get what you want most.”  Now I don’t know Kate Gosselin’s struggle with infertility and I am sympathetic to that struggle but it seems to me, she more than anyone would know that contentment and peace don’t get you a baby.  She was lucky.  She could afford IVF.  All of her babies lived and are seemingly healthy.  She seems to have forgotten what it’s like to be on this side of the pregnancy test line.  And what’s worse, “writing” a book telling someone, “if you believe it, you will conceive” is just kind of mean…

I wonder, will I forget how bad this loss and this wait has hurt me when I finally get my baby?

Clomiphene Citrate

August 10, 2009

I’m sitting here at my desk with my first dose of my third month of Clomid in my hand.  I don’t want to take them but I do want to take them.  I want them to work but I don’t want to get my hopes up.  I keep thinking, “this will be the month that a pregnancy finally sticks – that we will finally have a living, breathing baby.”

We deserve that.  I know we do.  I don’t understand why we can’t have that.  I’m so confused so to what I have done to deserve this.  I had my boys.  I was supposed to be done by now.  I should have thrown a birthday party for my babies AND Hubby this weekend instead of just Hubby.  Why does something that comes so easily to others seem to be so elusive for me now?

Oh what the hell. 

100mg of Clomid, down the hatch.

 

*Special thanks to Cindy who took some great pictures of the boys’ names written in the sand in the Outer Banks.  They are perfect for the book I am working on.  Also, my necklace came from the Etsy site and it’s really perfect.

A Harmless Walk….

August 6, 2009

I went to my usual therapy session last night without Hubby (he is in Denver for his cousin’s wedding) and I didn’t talk about the boys upcoming birthday.  I didn’t feel like it.  I didn’t want to.  I’m tired.  I feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum and screaming, “NO! NO! NO!”  Yes, I realize that by not talking to my therapist about something this painful, I am cheating myself.  I actually felt like I betrayed her because we just chatted about how I was getting along without Hubby, all the while, I was thinking about the boys and how much I miss them.  I just couldn’t talk about them yesterday.

I have been walking with my friend M after work most days (when it doesn’t storm or something else doesn’t come up unexpectedly).  I figure the long hour walk in addition to boot camp will help me manage stress and get the weight off faster.  And I really like M.  It’s like the beginning of a romance, you still don’t know a ton about the person but you want to get to know them more but you don’t know if you should ask them out again or what for them to ask you out…(really, I don’t want to date M – she’s married, I’m married, I like boys, she likes boys…it was just a metaphor).

Last night she was detained at work and sent me a quick text that she was bailing on our walk.  I thought, “I’ll take the dogs to the park anyway.”  The puppy NEEDS to walk in the afternoons lest no one in the house sleeps until he has played himself out (he’s a 6 month old lab/boxer mix, he has energy to spare).  We leashed up and took off.

We took our usual course up the street to the park and onto the track.  As I got to the track, I saw two women in pink T-shirts (important later) with a stroller…whatever was crying in the stroller was little….maybe 3 months old and….SMACK!  I’m reduced to tears.  I immediately turn around and head back to the house, tearing streaming down my face.  Grief and anger and sadness strangled me as I drag the dogs back towards the house.

As we started to cross the street, I looked up and damn, if they weren’t right behind me.  “What the fuck!” I thought,  “I’m practically running from these woman and they are chasing me with their living, breathing, healthy pink baby!  I crossed the street like the lead actress in a zombie movie…dragging dogs, looking behind me, tears streaming and wait!  What’s that?  They continued straight.  I took a deep breath, blew it out and wiped my face with my pink T-shirt (I know…sexy).

I got to the house, put the dogs in the backyard and went out front to get the mail.  Guess what?  Here comes the Pink T-shirt ladies and the stroller from around the corner.  Apparently, they did a loop just to pass my house!  I tried to smile and be polite as they both said hello.

“Looks like you got the memo about it being pink T-shirt day!” says Fertile Myrtle’s friend.

“Shit,” I thought, “she’s talking to me, now I’ve got to be witty.”

“I sure did.  Tomorrow, I’m thinking blue T-shirts.  Sound good?”

They both laughed their fertile laughs and walked on.

I turned, new tears coming down my face and headed back to my baby-less house.

I hate this.