I've been pinning after a Dyson. Which makes me a bit sad really. I never thought in a million years that I, Kim Newman, would care one lick about a vacuum...let alone pine after one. But alas...I'm a stay at home mama that vacuums at least once a day because of my crazy messy toddler.
But Dyson's are uber expensive and who wants to spend that much for a vacuum. I keep rationalizing the cost because since I would be using it so much, it would be worth the cost. But still...it's a vacuum. Just a vacuum.
But then came yesterday. I check a few deal sites every morning. One of them is woot. Yesterday they had this...the Dyson DC25 blueprint limited edition
It retails for $530. Amazon has it right now for $499. Though it pained me a bit to spend the money, I bought one. The price? $279! It was brand new...not refurbed...and it comes with the normal 5 year warranty. I figured if for any reason that we didn't like it, I would be able to sell it and make a profit. I cannot wait to get it!! I'm soooo excited over here! Again, I can't believe I'm admitting my joy over a vacuum. But whatever! I can't wait.
25 February 2010
I've been pinning after a Dyson. Which makes me a bit sad really. I never thought in a million years that I, Kim Newman, would care one lick about a vacuum...let alone pine after one. But alas...I'm a stay at home mama that vacuums at least once a day because of my crazy messy toddler.
Asher woke at 6:3o this morning. Ugh. Not a good way to start the day. He woke screaming bloody murder so I think he had a nightmare...which crushes me a bit. What do toddlers dream about that's so scary? It's sad. So I went in and gave him a big hug, telling him that it's O.K.. Then we nursed and rocked and I hoped, big...giant hopes that he would fall back asleep. But of course, that didn't happen. So we were up. At 6 friggin' 30.
Because he woke up 1-2 hours earlier than normal, he was full of the dickens....piss and vinegar...whatever it was, he was full of it...to the rim full. I would give him his milk and instead of drinking it, he'd come over to smear his milky straw all over me. So I would take it away and he'd scream. He was standing on chairs and tables, knowing he was being naughty. He was smacking my toosh...thank you husband for teaching our son that trick! Oye...it was a long morning.
To pass some time and get us away form the house, we went to Target to buy him a new drum...because what else do you do with your naughty son but buy him things! When we got home we banged and sang and banged together. Then we went outside to build a snowman, but the snow wouldn't pack...so we played on the snow covered swingset where he loaded his drawers...so we came back inside...As soon as I took his snowsuit off, I notice poo all over the floor.
Did I mention he loaded his drawers...I mean, LOADED them. It was dripping all down his legs. Joy! When I got his pants off, he stepped in it. It was every where. Every where. I don't like poop. After the clean up and re-dress and early lunch, I took him upstairs for an early nap, where he tried to make me look beautiful by licking off my face mole. yup. licking. Because ya know, licking takes off everything. Silly boy.
With a few songs and some milk he's down for the count. It's been a long morning filled with laughter and screams and ear piercing banging and singing and a partial snowmen squatting in our front yard and swingset playing and lots of poo and kisses and outfit changes and hugs and licks and singing and dancing and joy...because I loved almost every bit of it and though it's only 12:30 and I feel as if I'm covered in sweat, milk, tears, spit and stinky poo...I'm so proud to be that stinky little boys mama.
23 February 2010
Asher has been a bit of a difficult eater lately. Things he used to love, he now won't even let them touch his lips. I've gotten used to smearing things on his mouth, so he'll at least lick his lips to taste it. It's frustrating. So, I'm trying new things and all I have to say is how amazing it is to have a vitamix.
If Asher won't eat his oatmeal in the morning...I blend it into a smoothie. The funny thing is that within 5 minutes of refusing to eat his oatmeal in a bowl...he'll suck it all down through a straw.
Over the past week, Asher and I've been sucking down green smoothies. He loves them. LOVES them. As soon as I start blending, he's asking for some. The funny thing is that they're loaded with spinach and baby greens. Each container has about 5 giant handfuls of greens, a few cups of frozen fruit, a banana, orange and a little water. Today as I was making them a few green leafs fell to the ground. Asher ran over to them and instantly put them in his mouth for a taste. The look he made was hilarious. You would have thought he just ate his own poo. And I just looked at him, laughed and thought... "if you only knew son...if you only knew all you ate!".
I place veggies in most everything he eats. It's so gratifying to see the look of disgust on his face one moment while the next he slurps up the same 'yucky' food, only to say 'mmmmm!' Sorry for the deception buddy...but it's so good for you.
Today as my ipod was on shuffle, a Cure song came on. I've been a hardcore Cure fan since I was in middle school...so I was excited to sing with it. It wasn't until I started to sing that the words hit me. Not the whole song...but some of the lyrics reminded me of my current feelings.
Pictures of you ~ The Cure
i've been looking so long at these pictures of you
that i almost believe that they're real
i've been living so long with my pictures of you
that i almost believe that the pictures are all i can feel
Looking So long at these pictures of you
but i never hold on to your heart
looking so long for the words to be true
but always just breaking apart
my pictures of you
there was nothing in the world that i ever wanted more
than to feel you deep in my heart
there was nothing in the world that i ever wanted more
than to never feel the breaking apart all
my pictures of you
Sometime I feel fake. And I loathe fake people. But since losing Jorai and now Selah, I feel like I put up this veil of fake Kim so that I can seem normal...when really, I'm no where near normal. I'm a mother of two dead children. Two. I'm 34 and I've buried (cremated...whatever) two out of three, of my children. That's sick and wrong.
I still look at my wall ...at the photo's of my babies. Three photos divide our front windows. And I still can't believe that two of those babies aren't with me. They're not upstairs sleeping, as their brother sleeps. Some times I let myself dream of that. Three babies in my house. Three under our roof, a part of our family in the every day sense. I just let my mind dream that they're right upstairs, just out of my reach. But then reality comes crashing in and I once again, I become the mama of 2 dead children and 1 living toddler.
So I place this veil on to hide my pain. To hide my sorrow. Not really to protect others, but to protect me. To allow myself to feel some semblance of normalcy. But I'm always waiting for someone to ask how I am or ask about my children. My veil isn't that thick...it can't protect me from that. I know there will be times where my veil won't fully hide my pain or sorrow or story.
I used to be this happy go-lucky kid. I was the dreamer. I had this huge smile and laugh and always looked onwards and upwards. Losing a child and then another...has changed that. It's hard to dream. It's hard to smile big...laugh big. I smile...I laugh...but not the way I used to. And the person I used to be, has long ago, gone into hiding behind a veil in an attempt to protect myself from pain.
I hate that. Sometimes, I think loss is all consuming. It changes so much about who you are. It's almost as if the loss itself has taken parts of you away, never to be returned in their entirety again. That sucks.
The past couple days, I just haven't been able to shake away the hopelessness. It's clinging to me. Tearing at my skin. Most of the day I'm O.K.. Asher keeps me smiling and laughing. Hopefully I get to spend some time with Steve and with friends. I'm O.K. But then I'm alone, and it's quiet, and it hits. It's crashes on me like a thundering wave that thrashes me down and whips me under water. Hopelessness.
I keep thinking of getting pregnant. We could do it. We have no problem with that. I should ovulate within the next few days...sorry to the boys who read this!. The point is, we could do it. I could feel the nausea and the excitement. I could wait to feel those first wiggles and squirms. I could be pregnant in a mere few weeks..I could. It would be easy and I could feel a fleeting sense of hope again. But then I think that in a few short months we could also be holding another lifeless child...but maybe not. Asher came out screaming...could we get 'lucky' again? Or do we wait. Wait for more unanswered questions...wait for what, more hopelessness?
The feeling of hopelessness is killing me. It's a silent, slow creeping death, but death nonetheless. I can smell it. Taste it. Feel it engulf me.
I keep trying to be O.K. with having one, living child. Some days I can almost taste acceptance...but then all the dreams I've had since as long as I can remember come crashing back in. All the joy I felt growing up with brothers. The joy I still have, because I have them in my life. I want that for Asher. People keep asking me about adoption. Adoption is a option. It's there...but right now, it also feels like hopelessness. I want so much to carry and birth another screaming, rosy cheeked child. I want to nurse and look down to see an image of me and Steve smiling back at me. Adoption is a wonderful, beautiful thing...and maybe one day we'll be blessed to have a child from another family that we can call our own. But for now...I'm just not there.
My doctor called this morning, livid about my MSU genetics experiment and the paperwork they sent back to us. She wants to send us to Ann Arbor. I'm waiting to hear back from them with an appointment. So at least we get to see someone else. And I'm hopeful for that...but of course that involves more waiting. Tomorrow will mark 2 months since I last felt my little girl move within me. Monday will mark 2 months that I last held her. 2 months. In some respects it feels as if it's been 2 years since I held her...others...2 hours. I miss her so much. My little Selah. So tiny. So fragile. She was so wanted. So loved.
Hopelessness. It surrounds me.
Before I blog, I want to say, that I would hate for people to watch what they say to me. I would never want people to treat me different because I've lost babies.
In saying that, I'm am having a really hard time with certain things...and I'm surrounded by them. I hang with mama's. I hang with people who talk about pregnancy and want to get pregnant and who are pregnant...and I meet mama's who ask: 'is this is your only child', or 'do you want more children', or 'when are you thinking about getting pregnant again?' It seems as it's every day I'm in a situation where I get 1 if not more of those questions. And again, I don't want people to not talk about things with me or around me, but it's just so hard.
Today at a playdate, a new gal was asking everyone if their child was the only child they had and if they wanted more...yadda yadda yadda....thankfully I was up changing Asher's diaper and for once, I lingered in that task. I wanted to ignore the situation. I just wanted to slink out. I didn't want to go there. Not for several reasons. I know my friends would have instantly felt bad for me. And then I would need to make the decision to either gloss over the loss of my daughters to not make the person asking the questions feel bad for bringing it up, or bring it up and go through the whole process of telling them what happened and if we have answers and blah, blah, blah.
This surrounds me. It's a constant reminder of all I've lost. It's a constant stabbing pain. To see my pregnant friends is both wonderful and painful at the same time. To read their posts on feeling their babies move within them is both joyful and painful. I miss feeling Selah move within me so much...seeing my friends holding their warm, rosey cheeked little hour-old miracles is amazing and I'm so excited for them, but wow...it hurts. It pains me beyond belief...beyond words.
And I would never want to be excluded from good news, or photos or videos or parties...but it's there. The pang of lost. The devastating horror that surrounds me. The silent screams of death. My heart is shattered and I feel it will always be. It may be glue together a bit...the empty spaces, duct taped to hold it all together, but it's still shattered. I know time heals the initial horrid filled blackness, but for now, I live in this semi-normal life. I'm functioning, breathing, eating, even laughing more than crying. But it's still there. The darkness. The ache of loss. The emptiness.
I remember after having Asher...holding him and feeling his warmth, my world changed. I remember feeling happy. I remember thinking that although I couldn't hold Jorai or watch her grow or laugh with her...that I was OK. I miss that feeling. After losing Selah, I feel I'm right back where I was almost 3 years ago, in a way. I mean, I have joy...I have Asher. I laugh daily with him and his blessing in my life is amazing. I'm thankful every second for his presence in my life. But I also have this all consuming loss. I also have a unknown future in regards to children. It's all so hard. I just feel so broken still. I feel so lost.
15 February 2010
I'm a sugarholic. Seriously. I don't want to blame my folks...since I'm almost 35 now...I think it's beyond that. And the thing is, I want to raise my child the same way. I grew up in a house of only a few sugary items. Let's just say that 'Santa' brought us sugared cereal on Christmas...1 box each...and we got to pick out 1 faygo soda on our Saturday morning grocery trip to have at dinner as Saturday night was always hamburger night. Of course we had cookies and cakes...and we normally had some type of dessert after dinner, but for the most part my folks steered us away from sugar. And I appreciate it greatly. But now, I LOVE sugar. Spree's and brownies and cookies and chocolate and sour patch kids...ice-cream and candy and sugar, sugar, sugar. I eat it all day. Every day. I need it. Even on days I think I'm doing well staying away from it, I'm not. I'm an addict.
For about 6 months now, I've been thinking about cleansing my body of my sugar habit, but I just don't want to. I want to, but ya know...I don't. I like it too much. Sugar to me, is like a cigarette for others. I crave it. As each month passes, I've still done nothing about my sugar habit. But that changed today. This morning, I woke to a new outlook and in one sweeping moment, I took all the sugar products, minus Asher's granola bars and honey, out of the cabinet. Everything. Needless to say, my cupboards are pretty bare now.
It's been 7 wakeful hours off sugar. And I was doing pretty well, until noon hit. For the past two hours, it's all I've been thinking about. I've heard the fourth or fifth day is the worst. That scares me. But I can do this. I need to do this.
This is what I'm giving up. Sugar. Raw sucrose sugar. I'm giving up candies and cakes and brownies and pie and chocolate and jams and ice-cream. What I'm not giving up are grains, breads and fruit. In fact I'm about to eat an apple after I finish typing this. But I'm realizing that I need to get some more veggies and appropriate snacky items. I'm going to bake some crackers tonight and go shopping for healthy-non-sugar snacks. I can do this...I can do this...I'm excited about this process and a new health outlook. I can do this.
If I ask you for a brownie, slap me silly!
Working on our babyloss website is both exciting and depressing. I'm so excited to create something that may help others and creating a spot to share my girls with the world is beautiful...but hearing all of the stories of loss, reading all of the hurt, 'meeting' all of the babies who were taken too soon...it's just all so devastating. In each site, I meet another grieving mom, I meet her child...some long, lanky and born way too soon...some chunky and pink faced, born right on time, but left all too soon..babies...beautiful babies. I hear the mom's pain, her longing. I feel her grief, as it's my grief. I've been there. I am there.
Each site I visit, brings me to a dozen more. Story, after story, after story. One child after another. So many babies. So many families broken. So much hurt and pain and anguish. So many.
There's just so much pain. It's hard to read it all. But I want to. I want to read their child's story. I want them to know that their child is touching another person's life. I want their memory to live on, because that's all we have...our child's memory. It's just so hard.
And with all of this, all I can think of is how much I miss my girls and how much I long to be pregnant again. I feel like I'm in this wind tunnel of grief, joy and unanswered prayers. Sadness and tears and anger and fear and emptiness...happiness and laughing and loving and joy...nothingness and waiting and silence and stuck. Round and round I go. A whirlwind of emotions.
I wish I could get off this merry-go-round.
Most days I wake feeling OK. Asher and I go about our day as usual. We're happy and laughing and hopefully playing with friends. We are really enjoying our life. But then it hits me. Feelings of anger. Feelings of loss. Feelings of anguish. They come from nowhere. They feel like a slap in the face.
Today I have feelings of jealously with excitement intertwined...a girlfriend delivered her baby today. It was a girl. Yay for healthy, pink, warm, beautifully chunky baby girls. So cool. But within the excitement and joy, I feel the pang of all I've lost. My ears ring with the silence of it all. My arms quiver with their emptiness. My eyes sting from tears. My belly aches to be pregnant again. My heart longs for resolution.
I wrestle with my feelings everyday. They ebb and flow. Back and forth. I feel the moment I take one step forward, I immediately stumble two steps back. It's tiresome. I long for answers and hope. I feel as if my feet are cemented in uncertainty.
It's actually happening. We have a web developer working on our site and I'm trying to get all my type ready, but one thing that's missing is an address. We have a few ideas, but we'd like your input. Which do you like better:
- breakingthesilence; or
09 February 2010
- Why is it when a boy is doing something he shouldn't...and he falls...and hurts himself...and crying ensues, does he get right back up and do the exact same thing over again?
- Why do children really, really, really want to do something...say, going outside...yet refuse to put on gloves and a coat. Even when they know they have to have them on if they want to go outside.
- Why do kids want to grab their gunk, when there's poo all over it...and then why do they instantly want to place their newly poo encrusted hands in their mouths? You would think they would learn...but they don't. It's gross.
- Why they started making plastic toys rather than wooden ones...After being repeatedly hit on the head and arm with a wooden toy today, I REALLY understand why...and I'm started to question my preference to wooden toys.
08 February 2010
My dear son,
I feel the past 7 weeks have been just as rough on you as it has for your Papa and I. I know you don't feel the pain we do...I know you don't know what happened, and for that I'm grateful. But I know, you know, something happened. I know you see our anguish and you ache to help us, but don't know how. I know you sense our impatience, and at times, you even see it play out in your life. I know you don't see us smile as much as we used to. You don't hear our laughter as you once did. We don't play with you as we used to. But my dear son, I want you to know that we will get better. We will laugh more and smile more and play with you more and more as each day dawns.
And because your life has changed and you probably feel the emotional shift from those who love you the most, I want you to know that we love you more today than we ever have. You are our joy. You are the one that brings smiles to our face and laughter to our bellies. I want you to know this and I never want you to forget it. You, my son, are our dream come true. You are our child. And we love you so very much.
Love, your mama.
Things to remember from the life of a, 3 day shy, 19 month old boy:
- You're still not saying a ton, but you're trying to repeat a lot of what I say. Right now the words you say all the time are: Mama, Papa, ball, all done, milk, bread, apple, bug, bus, car, shoes, cheese, bird, baby, diaper, no (and NO!, NO! NO!!!), yes, ouch, juice, uuh-oh!, ostrich...yeah, I don't understand that one!, bubbo (which means Turbo, the neighborhood dog), ney-ney (Nathaniel), bubble, badge, nur (nurse).
- There are things you don't say, but make a noise for..those are: hahaha(breathing out fast) for monkeys, roar for tigers and lions, cah-cah for birds, you make a high pitched wine for kitties and you make a kissy sound for dogs...we haven't been able to figure that one out!,
- You are starting to walk up to us and grab our arm or push on our back to move us to where you want us to be.
- You like to stand on your bookshelf, so you can reach the light switch.
- You love to bang things. Love it! We bought you a music table that has a drum, xylophone, cymbal and shakers and you stand there and pound it over and over again. Then you stop, put down your mallets and clap.
- You like to say no. Lately you'll tell Mama 'no' if you don't like the song she's singing to you and you won't stop until she sings a song you approve of.
- You love playing chase through your play house and tunnel. You've trained Papa to chase you too and Mama cracks up watching him get stuck in the tunnel.
- You like to 'pop' your blueberries by smooshing them under your finger.
- You love to wash your hands.
- You walk up to people, cock your head to get their attention by placing your face within inches of theirs, and then you laugh.
- You love cats and dogs. You're surprisingly gentle with them and you like to give kitties kisses.
- You also love to kiss and hug friends and babies. You're a real lover.
- You give fist pounds and high fives.
- You could care less about trains but love tools.
- You dance to anything and everything. You'll even start jiggin' out if mama sings or pounds on your music table.
- You love stickers and bubbles.
- Every morning, after mama wishes you a good morning you ask for Papa, then say bye bye and then ask for bubbles...it goes like this...Papa?Papa?byebye...byebye...bubble. We have no idea why you do this, but it cracks us up every time.
- You have to have your turtle, plane book, horsey book and cloth book whenever you go to bed. If you don't have them, you fuss...as soon as you see them in your crib, you lay your head upon one book, hug another and look at the third. It's too funny.
- All day long you try to open and 'unload' the dishwasher. You know you're not suppose to do it, so you slyly open it and once you've grabbed something, you quickly turn and run away with it.
- You want to go outside all day, but the moment one of us try to put a coat and gloves on you, you run away.
- In saying that, you love playing the cat an mouse game. All day...every day.
- You L-O-V-E your trampoline and you can really get some air. You like to 'tell' one of us to crawl underneath it so we can push up on your feet to make you jump higher.
- You love playing with the old school cardboard blocks. You always want Papa to make a tower that goes all the way up to the ceiling. You like to 'chop' it down with your styrofoam sword and when they topple down, you cover your head to protect yourself.
- You love to ride Papa like a horsey.
- You got a guitar from us for Christmas and that has been on of your favorite toys. You hold it like an actual guitar and as you play it, you dance.
- You're no where near being potty trained, but you do have a potty...you use it to stand in.
- You love your friends, you love to play with them, but you hate being alone. We want you to be OK with being away from us, but you're just not ready. Every Saturday we talk up RivKids all day. We tell you how much fun it'll be playing with friends and blowing bubbles...you're excited to go all day, but the moment we walk up to the room, you grip a hold of us so hard. You cry when we leave, so we always come back to get you. But that's OK. You'll be OK in time and we're fine waiting, so don't worry about it.
- You love to be drug around wrapped up in a blanket.
- You play peek-a-boo every time we sit down to eat.
- You're a dunker. You dunk everything and anything. Last week you dunked blackberries in ranch and kiwi in ketchup. We can't decide which one would be worse...but you seemed to enjoy them both.
- You like watching PBS in the morning. You like Curious George and Word Wise.
- You've been snubbing your oatmeal in the morning, so Mama blends it up in Kefir and you drink it down no problem...if you only knew!!! She also sneaks veggies into your yogurt. Yup...she's sneaky.
- When you're naughty, I ask you if you want to go to timeout and you instantly say 'no' and stop what you're doing. You've officially gone into timeout twice. It consists of sitting in a pack-n-play for a minute...I can't believe it's affected you so much, but I'm not complaining!
- You know Mama means business...just one look from her will stop you in your tracks. It's pretty comical to watch you manipulate us. We think we're going to have a fun, but at times difficult, road ahead of us. But we'll love each step with you!
Throughout the day, I read blogs and facebook posts. I listen to stories from friends and I watch tv...and throughout it all, I just keep going back to Ecclesiastes 1 where it reads:
Meaningless! Meaningless!"...Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless."
I've been trying to get back into the world. And I'm getting there. But I still think how meaningless so much of this world is. I keep thinking back to when my life was 'normal' I lived a beautiful life with an amazing man. I laughed, so hard. I really laughed. I remember being chased up the stairs by a laughing husband. I remember being jumped out on, just to scare me and I remember in that moment laughing so hard it hurt. I remember finding out I was pregnant...standing in the doctors office and beaming. Beaming so bright. I couldn't wait to tell the one I loved we were having a child. I remember loving each and every moment of pregnancy. I remember being in love with this growing child within. Everything was perfect. All that time waiting...all the bad men I dated and life I lived...all the lessons learned and roads I traveled upon...it all brought me to this point in life. The point of lying on the nursery floor, with the smell of the freshly painted walls, watching the Academy awards and waiting for my husband to come home...being completely and utterly in love with my life...and then 'life' really set in.
Was it all the bad decisions I made in life...all the people I hurt. Was it karma? Is there even such a thing? 'This is the heart and we would normally see it beating'...'I'm so sorry.'.
My life changed. Our life changed. the laughter...the real, guttural laughter left our house. I still wonder if it'll return. Wow...can't believe I'm telling the world this. But there it is. I wonder. I wonder if I'll be chased up the stairs again, laughing so hard and my heart beating so fast that I think it may leap out of my chest.
I've been pregnant 3 times in the past 3 years. 3. I've delivered 3 babies in the past 3 years. 3. Yet only 1 of them is upstairs. Only of them I get to laugh with every day. 1. I have a 1 in 3 track record. 1 in 3.
I think Selah is waiting for us at the hospital. I think she's waiting for us to pick her up. It's been over 6 weeks now. I'm sure she's been cremated and her remains are there...waiting for us to pick her up. In that white plastic box that says baby Newman. Wrapped up in a clear plastic bag with a dog tag and a cremation number. Ashes, no more than a tablespoon or so...that's all that will be left of her. No parent should have to pick that up. I keep thinking about her. I want her home...but it's so hard. Asking Steve to bring home another daughter. Another plastic box of ashes. It's not right. It's just not right.
Instead of laughter, we have ashes. I see happiness around us. I hear the laughter. I see what we've lost. Every day. It surrounds me. And I wonder if it'll ever grace our house again. I long for it. But it eludes me. It's like a mirage, just out of reach. Every time I feel it's closeness, it dissolves just beneath my fingertips.
I'm not saying that I'm not happy. I am. I'm not saying laughter doesn't fill our house...because it does. But it's not the same. There's always something just out of reach. There are always two girls just out of sight. Our girls. Their memory is always just under the surface. Their face's are etched into my mind. Their silence, screams in my ears. Always. There's always someone missing. Tears are always shed. Changing pictures of a growing boy hang on our walls...yet there are 2 of baby girls that will forever remain the same. Never changing.
I used to be in the world of everyone...but now I'm on the outskirts. I'm the one people pity. I'm the one people pray for. I'm the one who grieves...day after day after day. I'm the one people have heard of. The one who lost not one...but two babies. And in a way, I wear that badge with honor. I wear that pain and these tear stained cheeks with pride because that's all I have of my girls. I have memories. I only have, what I can do with this pain. I only have what I do in their memory...in their honor. But it's never enough. Not for me. Not for any parent who never got a moment to feel their child's breath upon their skin. To feel their warmth or taste their tears with their lips. It will never be enough. There will always be something missing.
But what I wonder is if there will ever be a time where what I have, is true happiness. Will I ever be able to let go of my anger and my heartbreak and know that in a few years, I'll be able to spend eternity with my children and know that my life will be full...completely full. Or will I always feel emptiness in my life. As I watch Asher grow..will I continue to see him without his sisters? Or will I let that go and just know that they are watching over him from above? Will there be happiness and laughter as we decorate the Christmas tree in years to come, or will it always just be the time we lost another daughter. The time we lost Selah?
The world goes on. And though I'd love to go one with it, I feel as if I'm stuck in quick sand. In cement. I'm stuck. I'm stuck in this moment in time. I'm stuck with superficial laughter. I'm stuck in a life where there's always loved ones missing. There's healing coming. There's growth coming and understanding and trust out there. It's waiting for me. But it's just out of reach. I see it. But can't reach it. I want it.
I'm a blessed person. I'm truly blessed. I'm breathing for one. I already have friends who have gone before me. I'm married to seriously, the best man I know. The most caring and patient and loving man I know. I have the coolest kid in the world...sorry people, but I do. He rocks. I have a wonderful family who love me and my family and supports me. I have great friends. Amazing friends. I live in the States...which has it's flaws...but it pretty much rocks...I'm blessed. But I don't feel blessed. I feel ripped apart. I feel ripped apart from those I love. And I don't know how to get past that feeling. I want to chase my husband up the stairs. I want to hide in the shadows and scare him. I want to watch a movie and laugh my ass off. I don't want to ever forget my girls...but I want to get to a place where the pain isn't there...constantly pressing down on me.
There was a time in my life where I made a really, really important decision in my life. I was in Ann Arbor...I was interning. I left a relationship and was starting a life that was truly my own. It was a cool, yet warm day. And as I was walking home, the rain started falling down. I looked up to the sky and let the cool rain fall upon my face as if it was washing away all the pain to reveal a new me. It was a feeling I've never felt before. I can't describe it. But I felt as if a heavy weight was lifted and a happiness fell over me that I'd never known before. I used to feel that same joy as I looked out across the water at first beach of LaPush or Kalalock or Salt Creek when I lived in Washington. I want to feel that joy again.
I want my house to be filled with a laughter that's not contained. I want to have a happiness that's bottomless. I miss becoming lost in the love that surrounds me. I miss being chased up the stairs. I miss hearing my husband truly laugh. I miss laughing so hard myself, that my heart feels as if it'll leap out of my chest. I want Asher to grow up seeing that. I want him to remember our laughter. I want it to return.
I know all this pain is forming us and molding us to a life crafted to help others...and I want that. I want to help others. I want to use this pain for healing. But I also want laughter. I want to enjoy life, not see all that we wish we had and may never have. I want to truly, fully, 100% look at my life and be so utterly in love with every aspect of it, that it hurts. And I want to laugh. Fast and hard. I want to gasp for breath, I'm laughing so hard. I want to laugh.
I just can't stop thinking about all of this. I feel so hopeless. I can't figure out why the 'counselors' at MSU genetics were so rude. I can't figure out why after 1 test for Steve and 2 for me, they'll just give up, throw their arms up in surrender and say 'There's just no answer for your daughters deaths.'. It doesn't make sense. And then, I looked at some paperwork they gave me yesterday. The packet included information on;
- pregnancy over 35,
- what a stillbirth is, will it happen again and how to respond to people going through a loss,
- preconception health care,
- a brochure on folic acid, and
- cystic fibrosis carrier testing
Number 2. I think I know what stillbirth is. And yes, it happens twice...I know this as fact. And yes...I think I know how to respond to those who've gone through a stillbirth...but right now, it's me going through it.
Number 3. If what you are telling me is correct...I won't be able to get pregnant again, so why the hell do I need preconception health care?
4...Again...not pregnant...what do I need folic acid?
and 5...Cystic fibrosis? We never spoke of cystic fibrosis in our conversation. It doesn't seem that CF causes stillbirth...again, what the hell?
And then all the double talk. Why make us feel as if we were lying about the reason we believe our children passed. Why makes us feel as if there is absolutely no hope in finding a reason for their deaths. Why watch me cry and not offer a tissue? Why walk out and not even say goodbye...not even tell us to check out.
I don't know. It just doesn't make sense. I felt as if they had it out for us. As if they were mad at us for not performing more tests on our babies, for not looking more at Selah, for listening to our doctor and not questioning every little thing. I'm just confused and frustrated. I keep finding medical professionals who don't give a rats ass about what we've gone through. They're insensitive. They talk down to us, make us question things you have no control in changing and simply make us feel like the worst parents in the world. I don't get it.
We went into that appointment happy. We were talking about getting lunch afterward. I thought we'd have a good discussion and ideas about what could have caused our babies deaths. But there was none of that. We talked about our family history, which we could have sent them prior to the appointment and then they talked about all the things we could test for, but won't and then would continually put down the knowledge of our doctor and her staff. I left the appointment heartbroken and angry.
I just don't know. I'm at a loss. I feel beat-up on. I feel knocked down time, after time, after time. I'm going to talk to my doctor. I'm going to try to see someone else...maybe another geneticist, maybe a perinatologist. I don't know...just someone. Someone who will listen to me. Someone who will show some compassion and try to find us some answers. Someone. Someone who won't give up on my girls. On me.
I just don't get it.
I was placing all my hope in one basket. What I didn't know, was that one basket didn't have a bottom.
Our genetics appointment, I believe, was a complete waste of time. As I've already mentioned, Selah's samples came back telling us nothing. So we couldn't talk much about her...although it seems as if doctors like to make people feel as shitty as possible by telling them over and over again what a shame it is that we never sent samples of Jorai...or that we never got an autopsy of her or a more thorough one of Selah. As if we can turn back time. As if we can make them rise from the dead so we can change the decision we made. Looking back, I wish we did do things different. But when you trust and listen to your doctor..and when you're gutted, you do what you're told most times. With Jorai, we 'knew' it was a fluke. With Selah, we were told and we listened that it was genetic thing...we believed these things...we held them as truth.
From the prospective of the genetics counselor we spoke to this afternoon, the death of our daughters isn't a genetic thing. They're only going to run 2 tests on us, but they don't think we'll see anything. They gave us no hope. None. They were cold when they talked to us. They didn't even offer me a tissue when I started to cry. When I asked if we could run more tests just to see if anything shows a problem, they laughed...I don't think they were laughing at me, but laughing at our situation isn't any better. Here I am crying...laughing won't help.
To top it off, our OB doctor told us that the umbilical cord, where it attached to Selah, was extremely small...she told me 'the size of a toothpick'. The person that performed Selah's autopsy, never mentioned that...you would think that would be something that would have been mentioned. Why wasn't it? And so the genetics counselor was almost questioning my doctors observations. And of course I never looked at Selah's cord so I couldn't help. I don't know why I didn't...I don't know why I didn't at least look at her body. I regret it. But I can't take it back.
So yeah. I'm at a loss again. We're at square one. I'm mad. I thought we'd get answers today, but we got nothing but frustration. I'm really angry. We may never know what happened to Jorai or Selah. When the counselor told us today that they don't have a genetic reason why we've lost 2 babies, I said that it seems really strange that we had 2 girls, both with cord issues pass away. Her response was, 'yeah, it sounds like something is going on'...yet they won't give me a battery of tests. I'm just frustrated. I'm hoping that we'll have a answer some day soon, but I really believe we'll never have any answers. And that sucks.
Which brings me to prayer. I've been really thinking about prayer lately. I want to pray. I want to pray for answers. I want to pray for strength. I want to pray for health and Asher's health. I want to pray for my girls. I want to do something. But I just can't bring myself to pray. I wasn't able to put my finger on why I've been so against prayer since losing Selah. But then a week ago, it hit me. What's the use? I really started asking myself, 'why do we pray?'. I mean, God's plan will ultimately play out no matter what we pray. No matter what we want...no matter how feverishly we pray, His will, His plan will always play out. So, do we pray simply for the communication with God? And if so, why do we ask Him for anything? He already knows what we want...He knows what we are so hopeful for...yet most times, those prayers fall on ears that don't change the course of life. And maybe in the His infinite plan of things, what He wants is best...maybe we'll all see that greatness one day. But for now, I can't see the point. I prayed so hard for the health of Selah...and if He had to take her, to please just take her prior to 20 weeks...and I feel like such a selfish little girl to even say this, but if I prayed so feverishly for that...why should I pray for anything? It's not as if what I'm praying for will happen, unless it's what He wants. So, is prayer simply used for communication and intimacy with God?
I don't know...I know this is all over the place. I'm just lost. I'm just broken. I can't see the point of anything anymore. I love my husband. I love my living child and I want to be here every day for both of them. I want to be my best for them. But there's a part of me that wants to give up. I just feel so beat down. One thing after the next. I can't figure out why I'm getting beaten over and over again. It just sucks. I'm just broken. I'm not sure I can take anymore...and even this makes me feel like a selfish little girl...I mean in the huge scheme of things, we have it pretty good...but still, I can't take much more. So here's what's going on...
- Steve and I are getting a genetic test...I'm not sure really for what.
- I'm getting a anticoagulant test, which I've already had with Asher and it came back normal..but whatever.
- I need to talk to my OB to see if having an appointment with a perinatologist would help answer some questions.
- I'm not sure if we'll ever try to have another baby. I want to. But I can't lose another baby.
- I'm lost. Broken. I'm fed-up.