Do you ever get that surreal, almost unconscious feeling of having changed your mind? As if it was ever a choice that was consciously made, but now you've decided you want it to be a different way?
Let me try to tell you a little differently. Sometimes I catch a thought, or maybe a feeling from deep within, that has decided to do it a different way.
"Oh actually, God/universe (insert your believe), if you don't mind I think I'll just go back to the way it was meant to be. Yes, please, just send him back. Oh thank you, thank you."
Ok, obviously my unconscious, or semi conscious doesnt think quite so articulately, but the feeling that accompanies it is what's important. A moment of perhaps relief (?), however fleeting, as I decide I'm not going to do it this way after all.
But followed by a feeling if sick to the stomach as I realise its just not going to happen. It's not a decision I made. It's not even a challenge I accepted. It's life. Make the most of it. Enjoy. Touché.
And of course, I do. Or I try. Especially now that I have my foot in both worlds. Sometimes the sorrow and heartache for the one who isn't here is overwhelming. I never lose sight of how lucky I am, but motherhood is a super tough gig, so when you put two dimensions into it... Of heaven and earth... Well, it's a wonder any of us cope at all really.
Oh, looky. There's that super word again (cope). We won't enter that discussion.
::::
One of my closest baby loss buddy's journeys ended yesterday. Her baby boy died in utero four and a half years ago at 39 weeks. A natural conception. A problem free pregnancy. No reason. It just did.
They've endured four years of IVF. Failed stim cycles. Failed donor egg stim cycles. An ectopic pregnancy.. And now their last embryo transfer has given them another bfn. Negative. It's all over.
If anyone was meant to be a mummy, it was her. She's a kindy teacher, and a natural. What do you say? I feel guilty that I have Toby, but I am so grateful I do. But what do you say? My heart aches for her. Some in this world endure so much more than any mother should (and I'm not just talking about this friend).
::::
It's been a baby loss sort if week actually.
The leader of Toby's music group is pregnant. I think I've mentioned her before as she is about 4 weeks ahead of me. I would be around 16 weeks or do now. Hard to believe, and I don't keep tabs. There's no joy in that. But with this girl I have a weekly visual reminder. And since I've started off making it sound like a loss story I will say everything is just fine with her belly babe.
But this week she sought me out. Sat down with me. I asked her an obligatory "how ARE you", as obviously any question of such, even with no emphasis, is going to elicit a pregnancy answer.
She ummed and ahhed, and screwed her face up, concluding that she was "doing not TOO bad".
I expected that she was referring to the aches and pains, the struggle with dealing with a toddler on top of it. You know how it goes. And don't worry I'm not discounting it, given that I don't do pregnancy gracefully, and even at 9 weeks I could see how much "fun" I was going to have as a toddlers mother as well!! But it wasn't a reminder of what I wasn't doing that I was feeling like facing.
But she surprised me. Not in a good way. By telling me that this was her third pregnancy, and this was coming up to the time she lost her first daughter. 22 weeks.
I realised then that she had actually sought me out. She said she was feeling as though no-one gets it, but that she thought of me, and thought "Bir will get it". And yes, yes I do.
You never can guess another person's journey though, can you.
And two days ago an online friend sought me as she attended the still birth of her besties son, sleeping at 27 weeks due to placental abruption.
I can't believe that there was a time when baby loss was foreign to me. When the best I might have come up with was "oh how sad". (Maybe not quite but you know).
::::
But the most emotional for me, maybe because I'm somewhat hardened by the death of babies, is corresponding with the lady from Toby's DIG who lost her 16 month old, essentially to SIDS, just three months ago.
We've been writing, and I've been hoping that by knowing me and my journey through grief might help her. But in everything I write I am conscious of the little boy, three days different in age, who is here with me.
It strikes fear into my heart, her loss. It's validated for me, my helicopter mothering. It's allowed me to not feel guilty or over protective for having Toby on the movement monitor still, or in the cot beside my bed, still.
She mothers three other young children and has eight weeks to go with her pregnancy. You can imagine how she has no time to allow herself to grieve for her girl, or the emotions of all sorts surrounding the impending birth if her son.
And we talk tough gigs.
::::
Christmas looms. I don't suffer the same sadness as I did. And I look forward to Toby's second Christmas where he will have a certain level of understanding of the joy (albeit if Santa and presents but there is time for him to learn the reasons for our celebrations). But of course there is the one who isn't here. And Christmas time was when he was conceived. He "became". And somehow that Christmas I knew it. It's the only pregnancy I've known, and that was from conception. Maybe even before conception. I have never 'known' a pregnancy since.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
The number four. Among other items.
It's everywhere, have you noticed. I know that many of my baby lost friends also have a number four in their lives. Or I should say missing from their lives. And I'm talking about a four year old, as opposed to anywhere else the four might come up.
But I swear, it seems that everyone's kid is turning four. I'm at the point where I can even second guess. Example... At the supermarket and the checkout lady says to the little girl "and how old are you?". Straight to the tip of my tongue comes the words "she's four. Of course". Because sure enough she was. At Toby's small music group we've had several birthdays in the past two or three months. And all of them turned four. Bite.
::::
It's been a tough month or so. I can admit it here, and now that the month or so is passing. Post D & C recovery was physically easy. I got on with life. I didn't have time to stop and grieve, nor did I want to. I've had my share (can I say more than?), and I don't like the feeling of grieve or its crippling nature. But to be honest I also didn't feel I was denying myself. It was just in my step.
However, as the days and weeks tolled by I struggled more and more. I had all but decided it was time to visit the GP for the antidepressants I have avoided for four years. I was that low. I didn't feel that I was grieving the loss of this last little babe, but there were a lot of emotions surrounding it. The resurrection of grief for Ciaran, and for lost years with my children. With children that I will never get the choice to have, because of my advancing maternal age. And I was feeling very angry about that. About why could this one not stick around. The 'woe is me' moments asking why tease me? Why change things. Why undo all the hard work I had put in on myself to achieve the survival techniques that made it ok to live in this world of babies and easy pregnancies?
Oh there was plenty.
I was also well aware that my body, and my mind, was dealing with hormones. Pregnancy without the happy, as it released itself from my body. And the repairs my body was going through to recover from the nine weeks pregnant, and from the invasive ness of surgery.
Amongst all of that it dawned in me that there was possibly side effects from the pred.nis.one I was weaning off so I asked Dr Google, and it all became clearer.
Depression. Fatigue. And that's on top of the horrid weight gain that always happens when I'm on them (as they also increase appetite). So I was actually fighting a losing battle.... Feeling tired and depressed, I ate more sugary foods, which made me feel worse, both in myself and about my body image. My missing mojo was sending me around in circles.
Eventually I trekked to my amazing Chiro. He has been treating me with large doses of zinc, as well as a couple of Bach Flower Essences, and bless him within a week I was feeling so much more human.
I should probably mention too though they my mention of ADs earlier wasn't in anyway being negative about them or those who use them. They have just not been the right choice for me so far, and I have gotten by without them. Sometimes I do wonder why though. But in my case, the fact that I was do close to feeling I needed them was a failure to myself anyway... As if I had failed in my bid to do it alone. All very silly I know, but meh!
::::
And along with the number four, I'm also a bit.... Well, pissed, at the number of people either pregnant or trying. I'm also pissed at myself because I never wanted to feel like that again.
When I fell pregnant there were three others of my mother of Angel friends who were (are) due within a few weeks either side. Now, I certainly don't wish any of them issues, but I have to say, why did I have to be that statistic? The 'one in four'? They are all travelling along and exercising various levels of sensitivity. Meh, their prerogative.
I'm in two main online groups. Neither are loss groups, though one in one group there were several miscarriages before our current crop of babies. But my pregnancy seems to have set of an avalanche (in both groups) of people deciding its time to conceive. So on top of everything else I've had two months of reading their symptom hunting and AF disappointments. One of the groups is Toby's 'due in' group.s where there is already one subsequent baby 'on the ground'. Both groups paused a moment to say sorry for my mc, but in the next post forged ahead with their quest for the next pregnancy (one posted her positive HPT today). It's so obvious that their innocence doesn't even allow the possibility that they could be the next to suffer a loss to enter their heads. Although I don't wish it upon them, it has been fairly hurtful to be dismissed so quickly. Just because they don't understand just how much a nine week loss can still hurt.
::::
In random facts, Shane and I have been married five years this month. Of that five years, I have been pregnant for literally two full years. Four pregnancies in five years. Oh joys.
But 'at least' I can fall pregnant. Bite.
::::
I have several friends right now whose TTC journeys are drawing to a close, and my heart hurts for them. We will also be faced with it soon.
::::
But in other nicer news, Toby is getting such a big boy now. He's my greatest joy in a day, but there are also plenty of days where he drives me up the wall. And every minute I love how I am blessed. In the words of another blogger.... Stressed and blessed!
But I swear, it seems that everyone's kid is turning four. I'm at the point where I can even second guess. Example... At the supermarket and the checkout lady says to the little girl "and how old are you?". Straight to the tip of my tongue comes the words "she's four. Of course". Because sure enough she was. At Toby's small music group we've had several birthdays in the past two or three months. And all of them turned four. Bite.
::::
It's been a tough month or so. I can admit it here, and now that the month or so is passing. Post D & C recovery was physically easy. I got on with life. I didn't have time to stop and grieve, nor did I want to. I've had my share (can I say more than?), and I don't like the feeling of grieve or its crippling nature. But to be honest I also didn't feel I was denying myself. It was just in my step.
However, as the days and weeks tolled by I struggled more and more. I had all but decided it was time to visit the GP for the antidepressants I have avoided for four years. I was that low. I didn't feel that I was grieving the loss of this last little babe, but there were a lot of emotions surrounding it. The resurrection of grief for Ciaran, and for lost years with my children. With children that I will never get the choice to have, because of my advancing maternal age. And I was feeling very angry about that. About why could this one not stick around. The 'woe is me' moments asking why tease me? Why change things. Why undo all the hard work I had put in on myself to achieve the survival techniques that made it ok to live in this world of babies and easy pregnancies?
Oh there was plenty.
I was also well aware that my body, and my mind, was dealing with hormones. Pregnancy without the happy, as it released itself from my body. And the repairs my body was going through to recover from the nine weeks pregnant, and from the invasive ness of surgery.
Amongst all of that it dawned in me that there was possibly side effects from the pred.nis.one I was weaning off so I asked Dr Google, and it all became clearer.
Depression. Fatigue. And that's on top of the horrid weight gain that always happens when I'm on them (as they also increase appetite). So I was actually fighting a losing battle.... Feeling tired and depressed, I ate more sugary foods, which made me feel worse, both in myself and about my body image. My missing mojo was sending me around in circles.
Eventually I trekked to my amazing Chiro. He has been treating me with large doses of zinc, as well as a couple of Bach Flower Essences, and bless him within a week I was feeling so much more human.
I should probably mention too though they my mention of ADs earlier wasn't in anyway being negative about them or those who use them. They have just not been the right choice for me so far, and I have gotten by without them. Sometimes I do wonder why though. But in my case, the fact that I was do close to feeling I needed them was a failure to myself anyway... As if I had failed in my bid to do it alone. All very silly I know, but meh!
::::
And along with the number four, I'm also a bit.... Well, pissed, at the number of people either pregnant or trying. I'm also pissed at myself because I never wanted to feel like that again.
When I fell pregnant there were three others of my mother of Angel friends who were (are) due within a few weeks either side. Now, I certainly don't wish any of them issues, but I have to say, why did I have to be that statistic? The 'one in four'? They are all travelling along and exercising various levels of sensitivity. Meh, their prerogative.
I'm in two main online groups. Neither are loss groups, though one in one group there were several miscarriages before our current crop of babies. But my pregnancy seems to have set of an avalanche (in both groups) of people deciding its time to conceive. So on top of everything else I've had two months of reading their symptom hunting and AF disappointments. One of the groups is Toby's 'due in' group.s where there is already one subsequent baby 'on the ground'. Both groups paused a moment to say sorry for my mc, but in the next post forged ahead with their quest for the next pregnancy (one posted her positive HPT today). It's so obvious that their innocence doesn't even allow the possibility that they could be the next to suffer a loss to enter their heads. Although I don't wish it upon them, it has been fairly hurtful to be dismissed so quickly. Just because they don't understand just how much a nine week loss can still hurt.
::::
In random facts, Shane and I have been married five years this month. Of that five years, I have been pregnant for literally two full years. Four pregnancies in five years. Oh joys.
But 'at least' I can fall pregnant. Bite.
::::
I have several friends right now whose TTC journeys are drawing to a close, and my heart hurts for them. We will also be faced with it soon.
::::
But in other nicer news, Toby is getting such a big boy now. He's my greatest joy in a day, but there are also plenty of days where he drives me up the wall. And every minute I love how I am blessed. In the words of another blogger.... Stressed and blessed!
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