october 25th October 25, 2009

today marks one year since our blueberry’s due date.  that little being would have been one year old sometime around now…maybe in a couple days since they say your first usually goes late. 

 

i remember last year feeling quite sad right about now…having racked up another miscarriage by that point and not knowing if i’d ever be able to sustain a pregnancy…somehow i thought that if i was at least pregnant by our blueberry’s due date, that would help.  then when that didn’t happen, i thought that as long as i was pregnant by our beanie’s due date, i’d be fine.  that didn’t happen either.

 

now, here i am a year later, almost 18wks pregnant……and guess what?

 

it doesn’t help.  yes, i feel distracted b/c this baby and my changing body consume most of my energy and time….but when i tune in to my feelings, beyond my baby-euphoria, it still hurts.  not knowing our blueberry, all the pain that i felt at the shock and horror of suddenly miscarrying, all the questions and fears about my body and my fears of not being able to sustain life—fears about what that might mean about me….that’s all still real…pregnancy or no pregnancy…i still feel those feelings, remember the acute pain and rage and confusion.  i feel the fears and the sleepless nights.  it’s all still with me. 

 

just as my little blueberry remains with me.  no matter where i am in my fertility hunt, you always remain, little one.

what is there to say? September 16, 2009

for those of you who’ve been reading since the beginning (so that’s two of you probably—my life long friend and my sister!), you know that i planted flowers last spring in a pot on my front porch as a memorial to our three little lost ones.

 

i planted three yellow ranunculus (spelling?) amidst a sea of creamy pansies.  well, the yellow flowers died somewhere along the summer and while i knew this, i wasn’t yet ready to feel the symbolism or at least i wasn’t ready to yank the dead plants out of the pot.

 

so i let them be.

 

my neighbor with whom we share the front porch/deck with, however, did not let them be.  i noticed a few weeks ago that the dead plants were missing from our pot.  i thought…oh meanie pants must have pulled the plants out!  (we call her mp for short—she was mean at first; now she’s just controlling and overbearing, but the nickname stuck.)  i was a little surprised, but not really.

 

today, i am surprised.  i opened our front door, which we don’t do very often because we don’t like the possibility of people looking in (huz esp doesn’t like this), and what did i see? 

 

not my sea of creamy pansies.  no.

 

i saw a completely different design in our pot (the pot we chose specifically for our baby memorial)!  our neighbor planted tall grass in the middle of new, fresh pansies to match what she planted in the pot that’s on her side of the porch.  in addition she put two chairs on our side to match the chairs she has on her side!

 

now, let me say in all fairness….the arrangement is beautiful and the chairs are inviting.  actually, i’d thought at various times that maybe they would have some extra chairs or a bench or something that we could put on our side of the porch….but i thought maybe we’d at least talk about it first?

 

oh my.  what is there to say really?  how do i even begin to explain what my meager, dying pansies meant to me even if they looked bedraggled?  and do i even want to explain it?  no, i really don’t.

 

i’m just going to say thank you and let it be, i think.  maybe i’ll ask her to take over our balcony in the back of our place, too….come to think of it, i won’t need to ask her—i’m sure it’s on her to do list already!

another first and a last August 13, 2009

well, today marks a first and a last.

 

the first?

 

i barfed in the parking lot at the grocery store.  right next to my car.  three times.  never even saw it coming until my mouth was bombarded with pre-throw-up spit…i know—tmi.  sorry.

 

i was freaking out because i HATE to puke.  i hate it.  i thought, “oh shit.  what should i do?  what should i do?!”

 

pull your hair back and lean over!  this vomit is coming out whether you like it or not.

 

as i was finishing up, a van pulled into the spot directly across from where i was heaving.  the driver flung open her door and shouted, “do you need help?!”

 

“i’m sorry you had to see that.  no, i’m okay.  i think it’s morning sickness.”

 

yep, morning sickness to go right along with evening migraines.  peachy.

 

but i’ll go through anything…public barfing included…if it means a baby.

 

that was a first for me.  and what was today’s last?

 

today i opened the last jar of my mom’s applesauce.  i was trying to think of what i could eat and i remembered my sister teaching me brat—bananas, rice, applesauce and toast.  perfect, i thought!  that’s just what i need on a day like today…my mom’s homemade applesauce.

 

i cried as i opened the dusty final jar.  my mom made this applesauce the fall just before she died.  at the time, i was having a craving for it, so i asked her if she’d be willing to make some and send it to me.  there’s nothing like mom’s homemade applesauce.  plus, my huz hadn’t tasted it before.  boy, was he in for a treat.  after he took his first bite he said dreamily, “yummmm, that’s the best applesauce i’ve ever tasted.”

 

my mom sent me three big jars of sauce wrapped in microfiber kitchen towels…she was so excited about that new technology, she wanted to share it.  i still have the towels and until this morning, i had one more jar of her sauce.

 

this is the last food i will taste that she made.  with her own pretty little hands.  this is it.  there won’t be anymore.  that makes me so, so sad. 

 

even when i try to replicate her recipes, they never turn out right.  oh well, “just keep trying, honey.  you’ll get it.”  that’s what she used to tell me when i’d complain about my most recent recipe flop…just keep trying, honey.

 

and that’s just what i’m doing, mom.  thanks for the applesauce.

one year July 30, 2009

this saturday, august 1st, marks one year since we lost our beanie…my second of three miscarriages to date.  the irony is that the first weekend of august is my favorite weekend of the year here in my city.  for the past five years i’ve looked forward to this weekend and i continue to do so because of some special events that take place each year.

 

and yet, this year i’m also remembering what we were going through this time last year…first the week of waiting to bleed from when we found out through the ultrasound at 6w2d that the pregnancy was not viable until the miscarriage process began.  i remember that week pretty clearly…that’s when i first got into tori and dean.  and the real housewives, although i didn’t see my favorite housewives until this winter (new jersey, of course!).  that’s when i spent almost an entire week in my bed watching tv.  i didn’t want to see anyone and i didn’t really want to go anywhere and i didn’t work for maybe a month or five weeks after we first got the news. (thank you, huz, for carrying the financial load, yet again…)

 

i distinctly remember august first.  the bleeding began and i knew it was only a matter of time before the tissue passed.  i wasn’t prepared for the level of pain i would feel because my first miscarriage was virtually pain-free—-at least, physically pain-free.  i wanted to stay “active” that day to assist my body in passing the tissue and one way i did that was by helping my huz put together our grill out on our deck…until the pain got too severe, that is.  and by the way, i wasn’t really helping…it was more like i was bossing him around, agitating both of us and encouraging him to toss the directions and just put it together any old way.  i’m sure he was more than relieved when i needed to go inside.

 

i remember choosing not to take any pain meds because i wanted to know what was happening in my body.  i wanted to be present and alert and i felt strongly that it might be the closest i’d ever get to experiencing the natural birth i’d been wanting.

 

i remember my huz shutting down and getting rather short tempered once he came inside.  i told him to snap out of it and go get me some ice cream—a lot of ice cream—please.  he brought back a big serving of my favorite flavor.

 

i remember feeling sad, lonely and angry when he went to bed while i couldn’t sleep.  i stayed in the living room and watched tv…wrote an email…and breathed through the pain.  i remember the pain reaching all the way down to the tops of my feet…throbbing, aching pain.

 

i remember getting up to use the bathroom around 6:30a (roughly 12 hours from the first sight of blood)…i passed the first large-ish piece of tissue and felt immense relief, physically and emotionally.

 

the waiting was over.  i really did miscarry.  it wasn’t some freak ultrasound tech mistake.  i could stop torturing myself with irrational hopes and move on to torturing myself with what-if’s.

 

i remember getting some sleep after that…but not much.  i never sleep well during seasons of grief…it seems the first comfort to leave me.  i remember that for some reason my huz was gone that day…i can’t remember why, but i remember being simulataneously relieved and angry that he was gone…grief is so complex.

 

i remember attempting to drive to class that morning (i was finishing my master’s and it was to be my last day of class, an intensive).  i stopped in a mall parking lot to call the ta on my way, bawling and letting her know i didn’t think i could do it.  she was very gracious as she herself is fertility challenged.   i remember my dear friend coming over and bringing my favorite donuts with him.  i remember going to the annual festivities the next day, the events that i look forward to each year.  and i’m glad i did.

 

so many memories and yet there are countless ones that are lost to us, lost right along with our little beanie…memories we will never know.  and yet so much remains.

digging in my heels July 5, 2009

i’m weary of this fertility hunting trip…ready to pack it up and go back to……to what?

 

there is no “going back”. 

 

there is stopping….no longer trying to have a baby.

 

but there is no going back to my life before this bumpy ride began.  our little ones remain with us…the disappointment, longings, rage and (a little bit of) hope also remain.

 

and today, all i want to do is give up.  suddenly stop caring.  let it all go.  stop taking care of my body.  stop taking my supplements and going to my acupuncture.  stopstopstop.

 

and so i will.  for today, i’m stopping.

 

except, i already took my supplements and exercised today.  i’ll probably feel differently tomorrow.  or maybe even before bed today.  but i don’t care…right now, i’m stopping.

nothing personal July 2, 2009

it’s not like they did it to hurt me personally.

 

but that’s what it feels like every time i think of people i know (or have heard of) who had babies around the time our first would have been due.  i feel a range of less than desireable emotions that i feel ashamed to admit……hatred being on the top of the list.

 

i know, i know, i know that it’s no one’s fault that my babies died while many others lived.

 

but knowing that doesn’t make me feel different.  i have become well-acquainted with primitive emotions like envy and rage in the past year and a half.  and the silver lining is…………….at least i am able to acknowledge them?

acu-POKE-ture July 1, 2009

holy moly.  had an acupuncture appointment this evening…probably 30 needles in me…definitely more than 25.  i kept losing count (because i was so relaxed)…i couldn’t keep track. 

 

let’s just say it was a lot of needles.

 

i forgot my camera again.  i promise one of these times i will think of it before i’m lying on the table! 

 

speaking of lying on the table, while i was up there with my 30-ish needles i was feeling a mixture of hopefulness (maybe i’ll be one of the lucky ones who gets to post a-look-at-our-newborn-baby picture in the office–a success story) and hopelessness (i’m probably going to be one of those unlucky few).

 

i guess that’s just the thing: we don’t know.

 

there is no way of knowing the twists and turns of this journey ahead of time.  no advance notice given.  no gps system to guide us along the way.

 

each decision involves risk.  i just wish it required the kind of risk it takes to play the penny slots in vegas, rather than the level of risk it takes to sky dive without a parachute.

finding confidence June 30, 2009

i realized the other day that my experience with recurrent miscarriage has resulted in me feeling a pervasive lack of self-confidence…maybe it hasn’t actually been the “result of”…because if i’m really honest, i wasn’t the poster child for self-confidence prior to all of the baby-loss…so i guess what i’m saying is that the miscarrying exaggerated or aggravated or highlighted my sense of incompetency…as a woman, as a therapist, as a wife, as a friend*…yes, these days i feel a pervasive sense of worthlessness.

 

you don’t need to spend a fortune on an education to see it:  i’m depressed.

 

not clinically–don’t worry.  i eat (a little too much), i sleep (not quite enough), i go to work (even though i’d rather say home), i keep up on personal hygeine (there’s nothing i hate more than feeling stinky–except when camping…then i love being dirty!)…yes, the writing is on the wall. 

 

i’m depressed.

 

but this doesn’t really concern or alarm me.  of course i’m depressed.  i’m in the midst of a storm of a lifetime’s worth of grief, unanswerable questions and insatiable desire for a life/fantasy that may or may not ever become reality—and while i’m being honest, let me also acknowledge that fantasies rarely, if ever, come to fruition….meaning, even if we have children one day, the reality of parenthood and family-life will scarcely live up to the dream.  i know this.

 

but it doesn’t deter me.  and depression doesn’t scare me—well, not usually.  all it means is that at this moment in my life, i’m experiencing an intensity of emotion that far exceeds my capacity for language, expression, and probably most of all far outweighs my desire to find language and a mode of expressing what i’m feeling.

 

and so i move forward…one step in front of the other…slowly finding ways to express some of what’s happening inside…painting, creating, talking, loving, crying—-and sometimes even vegging out helps. 

 

somewhere in the midst of this present maelstrom of my life’s ups and downs i will find myself again…my self-confidence, my sense of value, direction and meaning…each of these will return to me in a way my tiny babies never will.

 

*foot note:  strangely, i haven’t lost confidence in myself as a nanny…perhaps this is how i know i’ll be okay…through all of this i have maintained some hearty ability to mother…the kids i nanny and most importantly, myself.  thank you for this gift, h.

it happened June 26, 2009

yes, it happened.  i got my period.  we all knew it was coming–we even collectively hoped (and thank you for hoping with me against another m/c) i would see it this week (if you’re confused, click here).

 

and, so i have.  today, right on time like clock-work…and i’m not complaining about the clock-work part of my cycle…i know that this must not be taken for granted.  i wish it could be so for all of us.

 

though it is ultimately a “good thing” that i’m not pregnant this cycle, i do feel waves of sadness, as well as relief…given my progesterone levels last week i know it would have likely ended in another miscarriage…yet, somehow i remain part hopeful/part in denial when i believe that somehow against all odds maybe it could have survived. 

 

i don’t judge myself for my irrational, crazy-hopeful, sometimes obsessive thoughts, desires, and compulsions around ttc again.  it just is.  i’m not alone.  i’m midly whacky, but who cares?  crazy-ish people are a hell of a lot more fun–or at least that’s how i feel in this moment.

 

so, i will feel the sadness as it comes.  i will embrace the relief and the new opportunity we will have next month.  keep chugging my daily cache of supplements.  keep hoping.  keep wondering, anticipating, fearing, crying, contemplating and desiring.  i will keep living this good life i have and do whatever i can do to support my body’s healing…and we never know, maybe next month i won’t be seeing red.

Happy Father’s Day from Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull June 21, 2009

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this post was written by my huz for father’s day…i asked him a couple of months ago if he’d be willing to write a father’s day post and he agreed, however, as the day was approaching he said he was feeling nervous and wasn’t sure what to write.  i was hoping he’d write a bit more from his heart about what it’s like to not be a father on father’s day, but instead to have three miscarriages under our belts this year.  when i told him as much, he replied, “sweetie, i’m new to blogging.  i don’t know who’s reading this and i’m not sure i want to tell them those things.”

i can appreciate his viewpoint, so as you read his post below, you’ll need to read between the lines a bit and imagine a man who has a heart so full of love and desire that he even practice burps our cat to prepare for fatherhood.  enjoy.

****

 

For father’s day this year, I gave my dad a Best Buy gift certificate enclosed in an Indiana Jones theme-song musical card.  Indiana Jones was a pretty memorable part of my childhood and I remember watching the movies with my parents when I was young.  Even though the most recent Indiana Jones movie wasn’t nearly as good the earlier ones, I was still excited to see Harrison Ford on the front of the card and hear the theme song when I opened it.  Yeah, it’s a little on the cheesy side, I know, but I hoped that my dad would appreciate the thought.  Things between my dad and me aren’t always easy, however, I’m working on developing a better relationship with him.  One of the ways I’ve done that is by trying to share older memories together - things we used to do when I was young, places we went, etc.  My dad isn’t particularly good at remembering these kinds of things, or at least he doesn’t seem to talk about them easily, without a lot of prompting on my part.  But I think it’s good for us to remember together, especially, as I know I’m not always going to be able to have these conversations with him.

I like to think that my son or daughter would want to reminisce about old times with me when I’m older.  Of course, my wife and I don’t have any children, which is why my wife started this blog.  If we are fortunate enough to have children someday, I hope my son and/or daughter will give me a cheesy father’s day card with some type of trivia or movie nostalgia.  I’m not sure what kinds of things kids are into nowadays, but I hope I can tell them how much I enjoy that memory and then I’ll tell them about how I gave my father this Indiana Jones card.  Of course, they’ll probably look at me and say “Indiana what?!”

No bother.  Happy Father’s Day.