Three

Last week my sweet baby S, who we lost at 21 weeks gestation, would have turned three. In the days leading up to his due date, I was feeling emotional and anxious. Although, it's hard to know how much of that was also the crazy-making injections.. but I could certainly feel the grief sweep over me. It's hard to imagine that I would have a three year old right now. What would the last few years have been like? What would our life be like today? If Baby S would have lived, would we have baby C here too? I'd like to think so. When I think about that I create a fantasy in my mind where both of my sons are here. That would be incredible. To make it even better, in the fantasy I get pregnant both times quickly/easily, without intervention, and experienced two blissful pregnancies. Oh how wonderful it would be to wrap my arms around both of my boys.

So I took a day to allow myself remember, and shed some tears (I can't help it). Then I do what I have to do, which is keep moving forward.

I suppose that is the what this space is all about for me and for many of us. It's not about the babyloss or infertility struggles really. It's about have a place to go to process the many emotions (both bad and good) and to gain support, feel understood and feel validated.

I miss my first child very much and suppose I always will. At the same time, I am reminded of how grateful I am so have my living child here. And I am also incredibly thankful for this community. Without it, I would feel very alone.

3 years ago yesterday

Three 3 years ago this week, yesterday, marked the saddest day of my life. As much as I would not like to remember the exact date that we learned the devastating news that we lost our son at 21 weeks in utero, it is burned into the fabric of my being. My body and soul can not forget. This time of year is tough, with the holidays approaching- everything reminds me of our loss and the fact that our son Baby S is not here.

I am so grateful to have his brother Baby C here and all it takes is me looking at him to be so grateful. But my heart is so heavy today. Immensely heavy- it hit me like a ton of bricks today and I found myself weeping.

The grief of a mother or parent leaves such a void. No matter how much joy I have received there is still a sad spot in my heart.

Even though I think of Baby S every day, I rarely allow myself to feel sorry for myself. But today, I am sorry for his loss, sorry for us, sorry for his brother. I know I will pull out of this shortly but the grief weighs heavy right now. My heart is sad for all of the babies who are lost and all of their families.

Just Checking In!

Although I have blogged very little over the past seven months since Baby C arrived, I have continued to hop on here to offer support to others dealing with babyloss or who are struggling with infertility regularly. I think of my blog friends often, keep everyone's journeys in my thoughts and prayers, and celebrate others' progress.

The main reason for not writing much, I suppose, is my wanting to stay present during this precious time with my rainbow baby C. You see, my blog started when I was in the depths of grief, then stuggling after babyloss with infertility, and continued through my second pregnancy. Often when I wrote I was processing grief, fear, and anxiety. I will probably always carry grief and deal with many difficult emotions on regular basis. However, I am in a new place now with the arrival of my rainbow baby. And that big part of my life is not what this blog is going to become all about.

This blog has been the place where I am free to remember my first son Baby S openly and freely among people who understand. And I still need to check in and visit this community. These days when I miss Baby S I find myself in a delicate place where I am constantly finding myself challenged: trying to balance remembering my first son without the sadness/self-pity/anger at the same time. I struggle with that balance often. So I feel somewhat conflicted at times. I truly feel blessed and have so much gratitude for where I am right now. It's just that sometimes I have to reel myself back in from spiraling into sadness and pity and bring my focus back to acceptance.

My rainbow baby, Baby C, is doing great. :) He is a happy, healthy 7 month old. He is smiley and a giggler, and very much a busy boy. I could not count the number of times that I have thanked him and thanked the universe that he is here. I am sure I would feel incredibly grateful had this been an easy journey getting here.. but having faced the difficulties that we did I feel like I am bursting with gratitude sometimes. He is truly amazing. To borrow a line from Em.ma's Daddy, I feel like "the luckiest, unluckiest person in the world."

This time of year

The holiday lights, the weather, the music..everything reminds me of the loss of my first son. It was this time two years ago that his tiny body slowly died inside of me. That hole in my heart, which became significantly smaller with the arrival of my rainbow baby, feels wide open right now. My heart aches. My body and spirit feel heavy.

The tears are not falling this time around. Yet feelings of sadness, anger and the questions-- what happened?? and WHY??? swirl around in my head.

This is not the way that I feel every day, or most days even. To be honest, with baby C here I did not expect to feel this way this holiday season. I am soooo grateful and happy he is here. I really am. But my memory of Baby S, and his loss, is ingrained in my soul's memory. My love for him and wish that he were here will never fade. So I wade through these emotions again, as grief has reared its head. It is an ongoing process indeed. A process that is not easy.

Eight and a half weeks to go!

Only eight and a half weeks to go until our due date- I can not even believe it. It seems surreal, but we are very excited!

It has been a few weeks since my last update, so here's the latest...

I've had only had two doc appointments in the last 2 months. This was a change considering until now we've had bi-weekly ultrasounds. Although I missed being able to peek at the baby more frequently, it felt good to be on a schedule similar to a *normal* pregnancy. At 28 weeks, I started kick-charting at the same time each evening (for peace of mind). The little one has been moving around like crazy! Most days when I touch my belly I can feel a part of the baby and have been trying to figure out which body part I am touching. At my doc appointment this week, I learned that what I have been thinking is a head, back or butt is in fact the baby's head. I could see on the screen that baby's face has been filling out in the cheeks :) . He's 3.5 lbs now and at this point is expected to be around 7.5 by full-term. Baby is still breech, but will hopefully turn head down within the next month. I will have an ultrasound in 4 weeks to check the position.

Recently I was thrown a lovely, intimate baby shower. When the topic of a shower first came up a few months back, I dreaded the idea. For one, I am not a person who likes attention. Also, all I care about is bringing home a live baby. Nothing else matters to me. Expecting parents seem to often get carried away with all of the baby "stuff", so I wasn't embracing the whole shower idea. But- when I was ready, I decided it is important that I celebrate this little one with a small group of people who are close to me.

Lately I have spoken with a few other pregnant ladies outside of the blog world who are due around the same time that I am. It is interesting how typical it is to hear complaints about the discomfort of pregnancy and how "so over it" some people are. It is apparent that these women are likely not babyloss mamas or women who struggled with infertility. Of course everyone is entitled to and needs to vent/complain a bit. However, I've noticed that everyone I've met in the blogosphere seems to possess a much greater appreciation for simply being pregnant and has a deep understanding that the sacrifices pale in comparison to the gift of carrying a baby. I want to say to some of these people "seriously, things could be more difficult." But instead I quietly observe.

When I look in the mirror these days I can see that my face is looking more and more content. I can feel my heart getting fuller too. Yet there is that part of me that is always missing Baby S. He should be with us as we get closer to meeting this little one. It kills me each time a stranger asks "is this your first [baby]?" And I feel obliged to say yes. Baby S you are always our first child! We miss you and we love you, Baby S. Perhaps as my heart continues to become fuller, that hole in it will begin to feel less sad.. and more like something that is simply at part of me.

The things people say

We've all heard comments about baby loss and infertility that sometimes sting us, right?

One of the many things that has been strange for me with this pregnancy is that EVERYONE (besides my wonderful obgyn) talks to me as though this is my first pregnancy. It's as though becoming pregnant with baby number two simply erased the existence of my first son, Baby S.

Throughout the second trimester, which I just completed, people who know of my loss would often give me a "heads-up" as to what to expect week by week. Apparently they erased from their minds that I carried Baby S 2/3rds of the way through the second trimester- so I knew the symptoms, the appointments to expect, etc.

The comments from people are sometimes strange to me. It is awkward navigating how to respond...

Them: You've made it past the first trimester, no worries now! My thought: Really? I lost my son at 21 weeks- and know people who have lost babies as far as full term.

Them: Are you enjoying pregnancy? Me: It took me getting past the 5 1/2 month mark, but now I am enjoying it as much as possible. Them: Oh, I know the morning sickness- it's the worst.

Them: This pregnancy thing is SO HARD (first-timer, instantly pregnant, no problems). My thought: Um, yeah. ??

Them: I am so glad my child will finally have a cousin! My thought: They ALREADY DO have a cousin: MY CHILD- YOUR NEPHEW- WHO DIED!!

Even though I'm sure some people haven't forgotten our loss, I'm pretty sure the outside world sees a rainbow baby as erasing the baby who was lost. In addition, although most people do not know the lengths that we went through to get pregnant both times, they do know that it was difficult for us both times. Yet still friends around me constantly talk about getting pregnant as though it's something that is accomplished on-demand, exactly when and how one wishes. "We are going to conceive this summer." "We plan to have 3 kids, each 2 years apart." etc. Most of my friends have been very lucky in the fertility/pregnancy department, but clearly do not think that infertility is something that could possibly affect them.

The strange- at times painful- comments have been plenty over the past fifteen months. But I do want to end this post on a positive note and hang on to the comments from a few friends who somehow knew exactly what to say. I will never forget their words which comforted me.

After our loss, my dear friend Stacey said: "I want you to know that I loved your baby too." She is the only person who expressed love/care for our child.

My friend Amy called me explaining that her heart was breaking for me and she began crying on the phone. She is the only person (besides dh) who cried along with me.

When I shared the news of my current pregnancy with my friend Jessica she expressed her happiness for us, and also said "I'm sure it must be bittersweet." She is the only person who has acknowledged that we must miss Baby S.

April 9th: Baby S's birthday

My heart is a bit heavy this morning over what should have been today: my first son turning one.

I imagine a sweet and rambunctious brown-haired/brown-eyed toddler running around, but he's not here. Despite the fact that I am incredibly grateful to be carrying his younger brother, I don't think I will ever shake the feeling that I have a child who is missing from this life.

I will take a little time today to work through my sadness, and then plan to honor him in my heart with nothing but happy thoughts.

I miss you sweet boy and will love you and remember you always!

the lonely grief

Perhaps one of the toughest things about grieving an unborn child is that it is a lonely grief. Typically when someone in your life passes away, whether its a grandparent, parent, friend etc., there are others around you who share your grief. Difficult as any loss is, it is common to share memories and stories of loved ones- as well as share the burden of the loss. Outside of the babyloss community, it is so difficult to navigate how to grieve around others- if at all.

For me, it's been a private, lonely grief from the get-go. When we learned the news that at 21 weeks our baby's heart stopped beating, there were a few people who I called during those first few hours while in shock and tears- my parents, my sister, my best friend. When I came home from the hospital to recover, I became incredibly sick for days as my immune system was wiped out. I wanted to inform our friends and family and decided to do so in a brief email. At that point we were so heartbroken and I was very depressed. Messages of condolences poured in and we received a few cards and flowers. Eventually in the following weeks I spoke with my closest friends and family who called. But soon after our loss, our grief became quiet.

People around us did not bring up our baby, probably out of fear of making us uncomfortable. At times I brought it up, but felt awkward, and quickly stopped sharing. DH and I decided to do a private memorial for our son with just the two of us. We live out of state from our families and most of our friends, and its what felt right. At the time that we lost Baby S, we hadn't settled on a name- but had been calling him by a nickname, which we decided to make his name. That is who he was and is to us.

Of course my husb carries grief of our loss too, although he manages it much differently. We talk about our lost baby, but it's always me who brings it up. So over time, I find I bring him up to dh less and less. I began going to counseling immediately after our loss. My doctor recommended it right away, as he would with any patient, and he didn't need to convince me. I needed someone to talk to... someone who could hopefully help me ease my pain in a safe place where I could fully open up and cry.

It has been nice to have a therapist who is there to listen. Although, I noticed after the first few months, when the time came that we would start trying to conceive again, she seemed to shift the conversation away from baby loss. The focus became trying to get pregnant and is now about dealing with this pregnancy. My grief still comes up (when I bring it up), and my therapist will recognize yet only momentarily.

It's hard to share your grief, your love, your yearning for a baby that the world didn't get to meet. I know our family and friends were sad for us and for our baby, but their lives quickly moved on. Despite our best efforts to explain our experience, they will never know what it is like and they will never miss our baby like we do. And it's not their fault, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I sometimes wonder if anyone thinks of our lost child as an actual person who died. Do my siblings miss their unborn nephew? Do our parents think about their grandchild who they never got to meet? I'm not sure. Certainly they have thought of us. But no one knew our child. We did. Intimately. Despite the fact that we can't share memories of his birthdays, family trips etc. So we honor him on our own. Every day. In our hearts.

Week 21

I just completed Week 21, which was the week that I lost baby S last year. This week had been hanging over me as the next milestone to be reached, and I was a bit anxious as it approached. I wasn't sure what I would feel like emotionally, but I anticipated there being some difficult emotions to deal with.

Surprisingly I did not feel quite as much anxiety as I expected. I thought that perhaps I would be feeling extremely nervous that the same mysterious event(s) that took my baby's life would happen again this week. Although I will not feel 100% confident with this pregnancy until I bring the baby home, I have come to terms with the fact that things are out of my control. And as a result, I have been feeling quite at peace these days. Of course I do obsess each day about whether or not the baby is moving, but overall so far my anxiety level has been manageable.

However, day one of this week hit me like a ton of bricks. That day I felt immensely, immensely sad. I cried and spent a lot of time reliving this time during the last pregnancy... what was I doing? What was I feeling? I thought about the red flags, things I said, things the doctors said... and of course ran through all of the maddening "what ifs." My sadness was in part for me, dh and the baby boy in my belly. It saddens me greatly that baby S is not here with us right now. I am also sad for baby S who is missing out on his life here with us. I miss him always, and have been especially missing him this week. My heart is heavy.

Baby S's little brother thankfully has been reminding me every day that he is here. I feel him the most in the evenings after dinner as I am relaxing on the couch. From this point on it will be unchartered territory for me with pregnancy, and I am looking forward to it.

Sex of the baby revealed...

We found out: the baby is a BOY!

Everything looked good at the 20 week ultrasound, which was performed by the perinatologist. At the start of the appointment, the nurse asked us if we suspected whether the baby is a girl or boy- and honestly we felt 50/50. With baby S, DH and felt very strongly from the moment we found out we were pregnant that he was a boy. Sadly we didn't have confirmation until we lost him, but we just knew it in our hearts. Knowing the sex gives us something more to celebrate and connect to. So far up until this point in the pregnancy we have had quite a bit of stress/worry. Now, despite the ever-present anxiety, I am slowly beginning to accept that this baby might actually be here in July. Both the perinatologist and my obgyn have been sensitive to our history. My ob made a point of expressing that he is confident about this pregnancy and is doing/saying whatever he can to put us at ease.

The appointment included a 4-D view of the baby, so we were able to get a *glimpse* of what he looks like. His nose and cheeks look like DH right now. From what I can tell he looks different than his brother, who resembled me in the nose and eyes.

Now that I am in week 20 I am thinking a lot about this exact time during my first pregnancy... Revisiting what I was doing, what thoughts were going through my mind, the devastating events that unfolded. Although I am celebrating this little one, I am missing baby S so strongly right now- just wishing he were here with us. I have run through the what-ifs endlessly over the past 14 months, slowly trying to be a peace with knowing I will never have the answer.

Letting go...

In my last post I talked about some of the ways that I feel I've changed throughout the past few years of this journey. Some of my changes have been positive, and some not-so-good... Like the jadedness/bitterness that rears its ugly head from time to time. I recently read this about letting go and it really resonated with me...

"..just as bitter feelings can be self-defeating, so too can the release of bitterness be life-affirming in a way that few other emotional experiences are. When we decide that we no longer want to be bitter, we are reborn into a world filled with delight and fulfillment unlike any we knew while in the clutches of bitterness. The veil it cast over our lives is lifted, letting light and warmth touch our souls...

Divesting yourself of bitter feelings can be as simple as truly forgiving and moving on. Even when your bitterness has no concrete object, you can forgive situations too...In time, you will discover that letting go of your bitterness frees you to initiate the healing process and allows you to once again celebrate the possibility of the more wonderful life you deserve."

The Different Me

One does not experience infertility or baby loss and remain unchanged. The past few years have brought some high highs and some low lows for me. High points: getting pregnant two times. Low points: losing a baby, and many failed attempts at getting pregnant. The low points seem to be much more prolonged and complicated than the highs in my experience. The grief of losing my son has been a difficult, ongoing process. The months of trying to conceive were filled with frustration and disappointment.

I feel as though I have been stuck in one long transition period...from my former self... to a different version of me... and I'm not sure what I will be like by the time this baby arrives.

I've changed.

In some ways, I suppose I've changed for the better. I have faced challenges that my former self would have never thought I would overcome. I've gotten in touch with my inner strength and now feel that I have the ability to move mountains. I believe that as a parent I will love even stronger and will have an even greater appreciation of my family. Trivial things in life that I used to worry about now seem unimportant to me. I no longer care what people think. I focus more on taking care of myself.

Some of my changes have been negative, which concerns me. There is a residual bitterness that lingers with me. It's hard to explain, but I feel somewhat jaded from this journey... I don't smile nearly as much as I used to. I have become a more private person, to the point of nearly shutting some people out. I feel more vulnerable and carry myself with less confidence. I am impatient when it comes to others' concerns, unless they are what I consider to be real issues.

At times I ponder my journey and wonder how I can use it to become an all around better me. When the day comes that I hold my baby in my arms, I know I will feel great joy. But will life still feel bittersweet? I suppose it might. For now, I will try my best to let go of the bitterness and focus on the sweet.

Tis the season

As holiday time has arrived I am finding myself with mixed emotions. There are many things that I am thankful for: the little life that is forming inside of me, my dh who is amazing, the support that I am finding in this community of mothers, the five and a half months that I was blessed with my baby boy. I am really trying to overlook the pain and sadness that I experienced from losing my son and instead trying to remember that he still is a gift to me. He has taught me to love stronger, to have courage in the face of darkness, and to never take life for granted. I am a better mother because of him. For the first few months following his death, I could not think of my baby boy without feeling utter despair. Eventually I have come to realize that he would not want me to focus on the loss of him, but rather focus on truly living.

I can't help but also feel a sense of anxiety though. This time last year is when my world began to crumble. At Thanksgiving last year I was five and a half months pregnant blissfully celebrating with family and friends. Just days later was the doctor's appointment where I would learn the news that my baby's heart had stopped beating...it was like being hit by a truck. I have come a long way in a year, wading my way through grief. Yet a piece of my heart is still missing- always will be, I suppose. In the coming days I will approach the anniversary of the last time I felt my son move, the devastating doctor's appointment, the delivery, and the return home with empty arms. It is not an easy journey for you and me, us mothers who have lost our babies. I wish each of us peace during the holiday season and always. May we hold tight to the joy in our lives, including that which was brought to us by those who are with us in spirit.

Looking back...

It has been ten and a half months since we lost our precious son. As we near the one year anniversary, I'm reflecting on everything that we've been through and how my life has changed. This year has certainly been the most difficult of my life. The first few months after we lost our son were so hard. At first, every time I would think of him I would burst into tears. There were so many difficult emotions to process: shock, devastation, utter sadness, anger, frustration. It felt so unfair and I just missed him! Ten and half months later it's still unfair, and I still miss him..but I suppose I've learned to accept that.

Seeing my child's beautiful face and his little fingers and toes, only to know he was already no longer with us, was truly a heart-breaking experience. Giving birth to death is one of the darkest places that one can visit. During the appointment when we discovered that our son's heart had stopped beating, my doctor had tears in his eyes. "I am so sorry." He told us. He described the loss of a child as "something you would not wish on your worst enemy." It's true. There aren't that many things that I can think that are worse.

This grief process has been a true test of my strength, love, faith- my self. There have been challenges around every bend of this path. Facing family, friends, co-workers, strangers with the sad news. Returning to work only two weeks after our loss. Attending baby showers. Watching friends have babies. Seeing pregnant women. Seeing babies the age that my son would be. Holidays and vacations that our son should have been there for.

Like many mothers suffering loss, our pain is often coupled with the struggle to conceive. In addition to grief, there's the disappointment of failed attempts to conceive. The fear of pregnancy and infant loss. The frustration from years of just wanting your baby to hold. All of these things have been hard to get through. And the journey of grief continues. I suppose it never really ends. But perhaps we eventually reach a point of peace.

O goodness: GRIEF

In December 2008, our baby was stillborn at 21 weeks. Like approximately 50% of those who suffer the loss of a child due to stillbirth, despite a battery of tests we may never know the reason for our loss.

Anyone who has lost a baby knows what a difficult, seemingly lonely grief it can be. We knew and loved our baby intimately. In an instant, our baby was taken from us- and we don't know why. Our hopes and dreams were shattered. Our hearts broke into pieces.

DH and I clung to each other in our grief. He tended to me during the horrible three days in the hospital, and during my recovery after. He was deeply saddened. I was a complete mess. Our friends and family shared their condolences and offered support.

Losing a child is difficult on so many levels. My child will live forever in my heart. And the grief I carry lurks just below the surface. But I forge ahead. Every day I forge ahead. And we continue our quest to have a family.