So we took off and left.
We decided our family needed a vacation from everything and a chance to readjust to what are family is like and will be like for a while. Just three for now.
So we decided to take off and go to Disneyland for three days. Planning this trip has been keeping be busy, which was part of it's purpose. I think I could tell you every single Disneyland tip in the book...that's how much I researched.
We got to our hotel late Wednesday night, got up, ate, and hit the parks. Let me say, watching E meet her idol, Cinderella, was the happiest moment I've had in a long time. It was so wonderful to just go and be away from everything that reminded me of the grief of the past few weeks and just have some wonderful happy times with E and B. Not that I forgot. I thought about William the whole trip, but in a happy way. In remembrance. In love.
When we were driving home Saturday night, I didn't dread getting back into real life. I actually found myself looking forward to it, to starting over, to recreating myself with all these new lessons and things I've learned woven in.
I think that leaving was the best thing we possibly could have done. It provided some separation. It was like a little happy bridge between the sad past and the hopeful future. And with what I hope are our saddest moments behind us, and our memories and thoughts of William in our hearts, there is only hope ahead.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A Whole Week?
So it's been a whole week since I've written. There have been times I've wanted to write and haven't been in a place to, but for the most part, I've just felt okay. At least the past few days I have. Which sort of scares me a little. It means I'm moving on. And that I might forget.
I realized today that while the pain of a miscarriage and the grief of it is exactly the same level of intensity as losing a child that has already been born and as been with you for some time, it is probably shorter in length. While you miss being pregnant and having that child with you, there's nothing to miss about them being around. It's not really one fewer person in your house (though in your heart it is), it's not missing hearing their voice or seeing their smile or interacting with them. So maybe the duration is a little shorter, though no less painful. Just a thought for today.
Is anyone reading this? I wonder.
So on Thursday I bought a bracelet. And I actually attribute a lot of my doing-wellness to this purchase. I've been aching to have some physical reminder of all this. I tried some tulips. Good, but I'm in constant fear they're going to die. I bought some rings. Nice to have something, but they had no significance. They were just something I could wear every day as a reminder. And then I thought of this bracelet.
I have a friend who designs jewelry. And when I say designs, I mean really designs. Not just makes it for her friends or what not, but well...let's just say while I was at her house on Thursday, Cheryl Crow called to place an order. That kind of "designs jewelry." Anyway, she has this bracelet that I've always really loved, but can't afford. But I immediately thought of this piece.
It's called "Tapestry." Here's the link to it so you can see what it looks like:
http://www.twisted-silver.com/default.asp?256n675=qrsn7y6_241q7p6_qr5p4v26v10&c41q7p65gB2r5_VQ=E&c41q7p65_VQ=HDE
Anyway, I liked the symbolism of a tapestry. It might sound a little cheesy, but every time I look at my wrist now, I remember that our family is woven together forever, that Liam is always part of our family and is woven in our hearts too. And nothing can break us apart.
Also I heard this address a long time ago comparing life to a tapestry. If you look at the underside of one, it's ugly. There are knots, and strings, and parts that don't look so great. But when you turn it over, all those parts make up something beautiful. That's how life is. There are parts of life that are ugly, and difficult, and terrible. But it's those parts of life that make us into something beautiful, that make us into who we are. Now, when I look at my wrist, I think about that. This part of my life is ugly and terrible, but we will get through this, and it will make me better and stronger, and more able to help people around me. So while I hate going through this, and while I miss my baby like crazy, I know everything will be okay. And that I will see William again soon.
I realized today that while the pain of a miscarriage and the grief of it is exactly the same level of intensity as losing a child that has already been born and as been with you for some time, it is probably shorter in length. While you miss being pregnant and having that child with you, there's nothing to miss about them being around. It's not really one fewer person in your house (though in your heart it is), it's not missing hearing their voice or seeing their smile or interacting with them. So maybe the duration is a little shorter, though no less painful. Just a thought for today.
Is anyone reading this? I wonder.
So on Thursday I bought a bracelet. And I actually attribute a lot of my doing-wellness to this purchase. I've been aching to have some physical reminder of all this. I tried some tulips. Good, but I'm in constant fear they're going to die. I bought some rings. Nice to have something, but they had no significance. They were just something I could wear every day as a reminder. And then I thought of this bracelet.
I have a friend who designs jewelry. And when I say designs, I mean really designs. Not just makes it for her friends or what not, but well...let's just say while I was at her house on Thursday, Cheryl Crow called to place an order. That kind of "designs jewelry." Anyway, she has this bracelet that I've always really loved, but can't afford. But I immediately thought of this piece.
It's called "Tapestry." Here's the link to it so you can see what it looks like:
http://www.twisted-silver.com/default.asp?256n675=qrsn7y6_241q7p6_qr5p4v26v10&c41q7p65gB2r5_VQ=E&c41q7p65_VQ=HDE
Anyway, I liked the symbolism of a tapestry. It might sound a little cheesy, but every time I look at my wrist now, I remember that our family is woven together forever, that Liam is always part of our family and is woven in our hearts too. And nothing can break us apart.
Also I heard this address a long time ago comparing life to a tapestry. If you look at the underside of one, it's ugly. There are knots, and strings, and parts that don't look so great. But when you turn it over, all those parts make up something beautiful. That's how life is. There are parts of life that are ugly, and difficult, and terrible. But it's those parts of life that make us into something beautiful, that make us into who we are. Now, when I look at my wrist, I think about that. This part of my life is ugly and terrible, but we will get through this, and it will make me better and stronger, and more able to help people around me. So while I hate going through this, and while I miss my baby like crazy, I know everything will be okay. And that I will see William again soon.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Amazing Organization
I stumbled across this amazing organization today. They provide free photography services for families who have stillborn babies or who have infants who are not expected to live. Really incredible. Check out the website:
http://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/home
And here's a clip from the Today show:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23481435#23481435
Go look.
http://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/home
And here's a clip from the Today show:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23481435#23481435
Go look.
A Great Sadness
I'm not really sure what to write now. Now it's just kind of sadness. That's all I'm feeling. A great emptiness, heaviness. And it's just not going away. I'm not really crying that much (only once or twice a day, and it's very calm), but I just feel...sad.
I've really felt like being alone the past few days too. What stage of mourning is this? I think I'm somewhere between the depression and acceptance stages. But I'm scared of getting to acceptance, because that's the end of the stages. There's not another one.
I spent pretty much all day by myself yesterday. Ben stayed home and watched E so I could have some time to be alone. I drowned my woes in shopping. Not very healthy I suppose, but that's what I felt like doing. And it just depressed me more. I was trying to find clothes that don't make it look like I could still be pregnant, but everything out there is high-waisted and looks like maternity clothes. So I came home with nothing. Lots of clothes for E, but nothing for me.
But it was nice to have some time alone to just feel sad and be able to focus on grieving and not have to worry about taking care of anyone else.
Today at church we had a baby blessing. It was the little baby girl of my good friend. About three words into it I started sobbing and had to go out in the lobby. My friend who has helped me through this (she also had a miscarriage) happened to be out there, and she just hugged me and we cried for a long time. That bond between women who have been through this is so real. It's a terrible and wonderful sisterhood to be a part of.
I've really felt like being alone the past few days too. What stage of mourning is this? I think I'm somewhere between the depression and acceptance stages. But I'm scared of getting to acceptance, because that's the end of the stages. There's not another one.
I spent pretty much all day by myself yesterday. Ben stayed home and watched E so I could have some time to be alone. I drowned my woes in shopping. Not very healthy I suppose, but that's what I felt like doing. And it just depressed me more. I was trying to find clothes that don't make it look like I could still be pregnant, but everything out there is high-waisted and looks like maternity clothes. So I came home with nothing. Lots of clothes for E, but nothing for me.
But it was nice to have some time alone to just feel sad and be able to focus on grieving and not have to worry about taking care of anyone else.
Today at church we had a baby blessing. It was the little baby girl of my good friend. About three words into it I started sobbing and had to go out in the lobby. My friend who has helped me through this (she also had a miscarriage) happened to be out there, and she just hugged me and we cried for a long time. That bond between women who have been through this is so real. It's a terrible and wonderful sisterhood to be a part of.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Finding the Positive
1) I don't have to wear maternity jeans.
2) E and I can take swimming lessons this summer.
3) We'll be able to go out for dinner for my birthday in Sept.
4) I'll be able to wear the swimsuit I got on clearance last fall that wouldn't fit a baby belly.
5) E and I can play and play all summer.
6) No more morning sickness.
7) No more disgusting tasting Zofran.
8) No more disgusting pregnancy taste in my mouth.
9) I can paint E's room.
10) Ben said I can go buy myself some clothes that will give me a figure.
11) We'll get to go on Ben's work trip in June.
12) I'll be able to visit my parents in August.
13) I'll be able to help all my friends who are having babies around when we would have.
14) Maybe our next pregnancy will coincide with my sister-in-law's first child.
But ultimately, who am I kidding. In the grand scheme of things, none of these matter at all. I feel guilty trying to find joy in triviality.
2) E and I can take swimming lessons this summer.
3) We'll be able to go out for dinner for my birthday in Sept.
4) I'll be able to wear the swimsuit I got on clearance last fall that wouldn't fit a baby belly.
5) E and I can play and play all summer.
6) No more morning sickness.
7) No more disgusting tasting Zofran.
8) No more disgusting pregnancy taste in my mouth.
9) I can paint E's room.
10) Ben said I can go buy myself some clothes that will give me a figure.
11) We'll get to go on Ben's work trip in June.
12) I'll be able to visit my parents in August.
13) I'll be able to help all my friends who are having babies around when we would have.
14) Maybe our next pregnancy will coincide with my sister-in-law's first child.
But ultimately, who am I kidding. In the grand scheme of things, none of these matter at all. I feel guilty trying to find joy in triviality.
Recovery
It's over.
The D&C went perfectly yesterday. I remember being wheeled into the operating room and I remember them starting to lift me onto the table, but I don't remember ever getting there. And then I woke up in recovery.
I'm feeling very lucky. I had several friends who told me they were in extreme pain for several days following their procedures. I haven't really had any pain at all. Just little twinges here and there. And almost no bleeding at all. The nurse taking care of me in recovery was absolutely amazed by how well I was doing by the time I left. Obviously, I'm still going to take it easy for a few days, and I'm still feeling tired, but I think by Monday I should be feeling pretty normal.
My 3-month belly is about half the size now, which is a fresh reminder that there's no longer a little body in there. That's hard. My morning sickness is starting to go away. I took a Zofran last night, but I haven't needed one yet today. That's not hard. That's a relief. At least the 3 months of hyperemesis (extreme morning sickness) are behind me. One positive thing.
Last night after we got ready for bed, I again begged Ben to go get E and put her in bed with me for just a little bit. I was feeling very empty. The three of us snuggled up, E still asleep. This is what, in normal circumstances, E would call "Family Snuggle." But it didn't feel like a family snuggle to me at all. We were missing someone. Before, when I was pregnant, I felt like all four of us would snuggle, even though one was in my tummy. And now, not even that body is there anymore. And now that I don't even have that piece, I'm terrified of forgetting. I'm terrified this will all start to seem like a dream. I'm terrified he won't feel real anymore.
"When I was pregnant." I don't like that. Now I'm really really not anymore.
There will be better days, right? There will be.
The D&C went perfectly yesterday. I remember being wheeled into the operating room and I remember them starting to lift me onto the table, but I don't remember ever getting there. And then I woke up in recovery.
I'm feeling very lucky. I had several friends who told me they were in extreme pain for several days following their procedures. I haven't really had any pain at all. Just little twinges here and there. And almost no bleeding at all. The nurse taking care of me in recovery was absolutely amazed by how well I was doing by the time I left. Obviously, I'm still going to take it easy for a few days, and I'm still feeling tired, but I think by Monday I should be feeling pretty normal.
My 3-month belly is about half the size now, which is a fresh reminder that there's no longer a little body in there. That's hard. My morning sickness is starting to go away. I took a Zofran last night, but I haven't needed one yet today. That's not hard. That's a relief. At least the 3 months of hyperemesis (extreme morning sickness) are behind me. One positive thing.
Last night after we got ready for bed, I again begged Ben to go get E and put her in bed with me for just a little bit. I was feeling very empty. The three of us snuggled up, E still asleep. This is what, in normal circumstances, E would call "Family Snuggle." But it didn't feel like a family snuggle to me at all. We were missing someone. Before, when I was pregnant, I felt like all four of us would snuggle, even though one was in my tummy. And now, not even that body is there anymore. And now that I don't even have that piece, I'm terrified of forgetting. I'm terrified this will all start to seem like a dream. I'm terrified he won't feel real anymore.
"When I was pregnant." I don't like that. Now I'm really really not anymore.
There will be better days, right? There will be.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
More Comfort
Today was my appointment.
Ben and I went in promptly at 8:00am. I was fasting, just in case they could get me in for the D&C today.
Dr. Newman met us in the ultrasound room and pulled up the picture of that little lifeless body. Still no heartbeat. It was the first time that Ben had seen him. I wish he could have seen him alive too. Someday I think he will.
Another doctor came in and had a look, just to double check, and still nothing. Then he said something like, "Did you notice on the neck?"
"Yes, I did see that today."
We were in suspense for a few moments, until she explained what they were seeing in the ultrasound.
Apparently, our baby had a growth on the back of his neck. In normal circumstances, the spinal fluid drains somewhere into your body or something (obviously I'm not an anatomy expert), but sometimes, there's a defect and the baby develops this growth instead and the spinal fluid drans into that. If that occurs, the baby never survives the pregnancy. It's a one-time occurrence thing too, nothing genetic that could turn up in future pregnancies unless just by chance.
What a comfort. It's so nice to know what happened, and to know that it's for sure nothing we did or nothing we could have done differently, that's just what happened. And it's not something we have to worry about in the future. Just for some reason, this child was not meant to survive. And that actually makes dealing with things a little bit easier, to know the why, to not have to wonder. And I'm just grateful that I got to see that little baby twice while he was alive and see that heartbeating and know he's ours. Now he's just waiting for us in heaven.
So my D&C is first thing tomorrow morning. I started spotting tonight. I think it's perfect timing. Now I know this is for real, and I can't put this off any longer. I couldn't go through the emotional and physical pain of miscarrying on my own.
Ben and I went in promptly at 8:00am. I was fasting, just in case they could get me in for the D&C today.
Dr. Newman met us in the ultrasound room and pulled up the picture of that little lifeless body. Still no heartbeat. It was the first time that Ben had seen him. I wish he could have seen him alive too. Someday I think he will.
Another doctor came in and had a look, just to double check, and still nothing. Then he said something like, "Did you notice on the neck?"
"Yes, I did see that today."
We were in suspense for a few moments, until she explained what they were seeing in the ultrasound.
Apparently, our baby had a growth on the back of his neck. In normal circumstances, the spinal fluid drains somewhere into your body or something (obviously I'm not an anatomy expert), but sometimes, there's a defect and the baby develops this growth instead and the spinal fluid drans into that. If that occurs, the baby never survives the pregnancy. It's a one-time occurrence thing too, nothing genetic that could turn up in future pregnancies unless just by chance.
What a comfort. It's so nice to know what happened, and to know that it's for sure nothing we did or nothing we could have done differently, that's just what happened. And it's not something we have to worry about in the future. Just for some reason, this child was not meant to survive. And that actually makes dealing with things a little bit easier, to know the why, to not have to wonder. And I'm just grateful that I got to see that little baby twice while he was alive and see that heartbeating and know he's ours. Now he's just waiting for us in heaven.
So my D&C is first thing tomorrow morning. I started spotting tonight. I think it's perfect timing. Now I know this is for real, and I can't put this off any longer. I couldn't go through the emotional and physical pain of miscarrying on my own.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Almost a Week
It's been six days today.
Tomorrow is my appointment with Dr. Newman. They're hoping to be able to get me in for the D&C tomorrow, but it just depends on scheduling and on the hospital surgery room availability I guess.
How am I doing today?
Physically: I dropped E off at a friend's house this morning and almost passed out in her entry hall. I sat down just before everything went completely black. Don't know what that was all about. And then I almost threw up in her driveway because I hadn't taken my Zofran yet. So still definitely suffering from morning sickness. That's one of the worst things. I have all the physical reminders of pregnancy, but nothing to be happy about. It's not fair, really. Oh, and still no signs of miscarrying on my own.
Emotionally: I'm feeling very sad. But I'm feeling some peace today too. I'm not dreading tomorrow with as much fear as I was last night. I know everything will be okay. Today I bought a really nice cheery pot to plant William's yellow tulips in. It's supposed to rain a lot the next few days, so I think I'm going to wait until there's a break in the weather. I don't want to risk them getting killed by the storm. Hopefully I can coax them to continue coming back every spring. My thumbs are definitely not green, so if you have tips, let me know.
Today I almost broke down sobbing in both Wal-Mart and Old Navy. I don't remember why in Wal-Mart. Usually there's not a why. At Old Navy I had the unpleasant job of returning two maternity dresses, one that was for my sister-in-law's wedding in March. They would take one back, but since I bought them online, one I could only return by mail. I just about broke down right there and just told them to take it and get rid of it because I didn't want it in the house anymore, but I decided it wasn't worth wasting $25. I'll have Ben mail it for me. He's a saint. I don't know how he's going through this and watching me go through this and holding it all together. I certainly married the right man.
Tomorrow is my appointment with Dr. Newman. They're hoping to be able to get me in for the D&C tomorrow, but it just depends on scheduling and on the hospital surgery room availability I guess.
How am I doing today?
Physically: I dropped E off at a friend's house this morning and almost passed out in her entry hall. I sat down just before everything went completely black. Don't know what that was all about. And then I almost threw up in her driveway because I hadn't taken my Zofran yet. So still definitely suffering from morning sickness. That's one of the worst things. I have all the physical reminders of pregnancy, but nothing to be happy about. It's not fair, really. Oh, and still no signs of miscarrying on my own.
Emotionally: I'm feeling very sad. But I'm feeling some peace today too. I'm not dreading tomorrow with as much fear as I was last night. I know everything will be okay. Today I bought a really nice cheery pot to plant William's yellow tulips in. It's supposed to rain a lot the next few days, so I think I'm going to wait until there's a break in the weather. I don't want to risk them getting killed by the storm. Hopefully I can coax them to continue coming back every spring. My thumbs are definitely not green, so if you have tips, let me know.
Today I almost broke down sobbing in both Wal-Mart and Old Navy. I don't remember why in Wal-Mart. Usually there's not a why. At Old Navy I had the unpleasant job of returning two maternity dresses, one that was for my sister-in-law's wedding in March. They would take one back, but since I bought them online, one I could only return by mail. I just about broke down right there and just told them to take it and get rid of it because I didn't want it in the house anymore, but I decided it wasn't worth wasting $25. I'll have Ben mail it for me. He's a saint. I don't know how he's going through this and watching me go through this and holding it all together. I certainly married the right man.
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