How Time Flies

Trent and Taryn are cute.  You'd think after almost 11 and almost 8 years, I'd be used to them, but sometimes I'm still amazed they're still mine.  I like to just look at their faces; I could do that forever.  Taryn is so smart and funny, she cracks me up.  Yesterday she was wearing a stocking cap and a black t-shirt with a glow in the dark skeleton (Trent's) and she looked SO CUTE (even though Ryan said she looked like a robber ha ha).  Trenty's going to be getting glasses.  My little man sure looks cute in them, but he's getting SO big!  I can't believe how much they've grown and how old they're getting!! : (  It makes me long for a time when I was closer to their ages (it sure doesn't seem THAT long ago) and my worries weren't so serious.  I feel like I wasn't ready to be a grown up, I don't know what happened!  All I know is how grateful I am to have my kids and my family, it's the best part about being an adult.  Those little kids sure are a blessing; I love them SO MUCH!

Short & Sweet

Taylor,

I didn't know I wanted you until you were on your way.  It was the happiest one month and one week in my life.  Being pregnant with you was a brand new experience; I felt so amazing, physically and mentally.  Thank you for giving me a wonderful experience and showing me that what I think I want and need is not always right.  I'll love you so much forever.

Worst Day

Just when I think that maybe I am too ok, I get a reality check!

I thought that pregnant ladies and babies were tolerable, but they just aren't yet.  I don't mean to hurt anyone's feelings, I just can NOT handle it right now.  I had a table this morning, 4 people.  I didn't see them until they were sitting down and everything was going fine.  Then I noticed the chick's shirt said "expecting."  Great.  Darling.  As if your adorable bump wasn't enough of an advertisement.  Sure enough, she gets up to go to the bathroom, and I notice the adorable bump.  Fine.  Pregnant lady, I can deal.  Except, I couldn't.  It was totally upsetting.  All I could think was, this chick is sitting here slamming coffee and she's fine (I can't help but wonder if my too much coffee habit, which I cut WAY back on, hurt my baby). 

THEN I get a table of 3 grown ups and a baby in a baby carrier.  Awesome. 

THEN I get a table of 4 people (3 girls, young, with an older man).  The man apologizes over one of the girl's hesitation about what drink to order, "Sorry, they're pregnant."  Don't wanna know.  Seriously.  Then they all go out to smoke (I don't know which he was referring to by "they," all of them? 2 of them? Dunno, just know they all went out for a cigarette).  I hate to be judgemental about that, as I do have NO room to talk, but seriously, I quit about a year back and wouldn't have thought about touching one while pregnant with Taylor.  Sometimes I even wonder if part of the reason I got pregnant was because I finally had kicked the habit (or, alternately, if part of the reason I didn't get pregnant for so long was because Ryan and I both smoked).  Again, freaking hurtful. 

I couldn't handle it.  A few smart-alecky customers later (including them, I hope they all end up waiting tables and have customers as ridiculous as they were, but, I digress...) and a couple of usually funny but not-funny -this-time comments had me in tears.  I was able to pull myself together fairly quickly.

But I really wanted to sit in the bathroom and cry for the rest of the afternoon. 

Another Letter (beware, this one will probably get a little mean)

To the grovelly voiced receptionist at the dr's office:

Would it really have killed you to pry yourself away from your People magazine for 5 extra seconds to pay enough attention to my sheet and note that I had just found out I miscarried?  Isn't it your job to at least take note and make sure you cancel my next check up?  If it had been just the isolated incident of you not being a little more sympathetic when I left the office that day, maybe I wouldn't be so angry.  But guess what?  It wouldn't have been that hard to actually look at the damn sheet and say, "oh, I'm sorry," or something, over a rude, abrasive, "K, you're done!"  Yeah? No shit?  I wanted to scream at you, "Yeah I guess I am fucking done you stupid bitch my baby is dead!"  But I was so shocked that you didn't even seem to notice what had happened and that my mom was with me bawling her eyes out that I just left, I couldn't stand being in there for another second, anyway. 

I KNEW, I just KNEW it was going to happen, but I honestly was shocked and heartbroken 10 days later when your STUPID ass called me, reminding me of my appointment at 10:30 a.m. the next day.  When I called you back to remind you that I had miscarried (was it really that unreasonable for me to assume that if I CAME IN TO THE OFFICE to find out that the baby died, you guys would note that and cancel any future appointments I might have scheduled?  I mean, seriously?), I wanted to jump through the phone and strangle you.  You apologized for the call and I could hear in your voice that you knew it was your f up, but still.  I hate you. 

A Letter To..........

The ultrasound tech (the second one, not the first dingy one who didn't know what she was doing).

Dear ultrasound tech (I think your name is Cheryl),
Thank you for seeing me on short, squeeze-in notice on Friday the 13th of August 2010.  I know the office is disorganized and you guys were very busy that day.  I know it was a squeeze to get that appointment, and I am really glad I was able to get in.  Thank you for knowing how to do your job right and for being one of the only people in that office who not only seemed to be organized enough to do your job correctly, but also actually having some compassion and for treating me like a person and not just a number on a chart.  Thank you for telling me all about my baby, how big he or she was, where his or her head and heart was, and for having tears in your eyes when you told me it was not alive anymore.  Thank you for telling me that if I was your sister, you'd tell me that the imaging was very good and that it was not necessary to do another more invasive ultrasound.  Thank you for giving my mom some tissues (I was too shocked to cry, thank you for seeming to understand that, too).  Thank you for noticing that my bladder was full and asking if I needed to use the restroom.  Thank you for taking us right to a private room to wait for the doctor so we wouldn't have to sit in the hall while my mom fell apart.  Thank you for bringing us some water.  Thank you for being the only person there who would make me consider ever setting foot in that building again.

My Day

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to treat myself to a day where I could relax, have fun, and do whatever I felt like.  Ryan had left that day for Canada (for a work trip), and since he'd be gone all week, I was going to work Tuesday through Friday mornings so that I could be home with the kids every night.  I figured since I only had one day that week to myself while the kids were at school, I should forget about errands and housework and bills and chores, and do something fun for myself.  This day also happened to be the 13th, one month since I had found out about Taylor.  I didn't do it on purpose, but it ended up being a theraputic day when I really needed one.  After I dropped the kids off at school, I came back home, had breakfast, and got ready for the day.  I went walking with Andrea (which we haven't been able to do as regularly as we used to), and then I went to the mall.  I knew I was going to treat myself to a massage (love the Chinese backrub place)!  I had about half an hour to kill so I decided to walk a couple of laps around the mall.  We walk there in the winter, so it was fun to see some of the regular people walking who I have missed seeing all spring and summer.  Once the backrub place opened, I jumped, I had been eagerly waiting for them to open!  Initially I decided on a half hour massage, knowing that when they offered another 15 minutes for a foot and leg rub, I'd more than likely say yes.  I've been so tense lately (even more than usual) and this 45 minutes undid a lot of stress and anxiety.  Then, I went next store to the paint your own pottery studio.  I browsed around for a long time before I picked out a spoon rest for myself, a mug to make for my mom's birthday, and a skull for a halloween decoration.  I was feeling hesistant and uncreative but once I got started, it was relaxing.  I haven't had such a good time in a long time.  I started with my spoon rest, which I was trying to make kind of quirky and Mary Engelbreiht-esque.  It didn't exactly turn out that way, but I think it's kind of cute.  

Next, I did the mug for my mom.  It's not her birthday yet, so I'm not going to describe it or put up a picture.  I didn't end up having enough time for the skull, maybe I can go back sometime soon.  Honestly, I had no idea how relaxing and fun it would be to just sit and paint for a couple hours.  They had 50s on 5 on the radio, and it was fun to listen to some quality music while the only worry I had was to have fun for a while.  Paint (clearly) isn't my strongest creative medium, but having the opportunity to free my mind from the hectic everyday tasks (and all the sadness, stress, and anxiety) was one of the best things I could have done that day.  After I was done painting, I treated myself to some lunch.  Sometimes eating out alone can be awkward, but I was in such a good mood, it felt nice to just continue relaxing and doing whatever I felt like. 

While it was a simple day, it was also one of the best days I've ever had.  I've decided to do it more often, hopefully about once a month.  It may not always be possible to do it on the 13th, but I think I am going to try to do it then as much as possible.  I hope I have more great days like this to write about soon!

To Smile

Lately there are times when I feel like everything is ok.  Like my life has gone back to normal and somehow I'm just fine.  I know I'm not, it just doesn't always surface.  The constant distractions: reading, wasting time on the computer or in front of the tv, doing anything to keep my mind busy with bullshit just goes to show that I need to keep my mind occupied so that I don't break down.  When I see a pregnant woman, it is almost impossible not to think, "how come SHE gets to be pregnant?"  It still does not seem fair.  It still doesn't even seem real most of the time!  Ever since we had to say good-bye to Taylor, it seems like babies really, really like me.  The day after I found out, a tiny boy tottled up to me outside a friend's apartment and tried, in his baby way, to talk to me.  Sometimes this is comforting, other times it hurts more than a knife to the heart would.  There are so many things that just cause little pangs of hurt.  Fridays. Knowing another week has passed since I found out, thinking to myself, 1 or 2 or now 6 weeks ago, I was so excited to get to that appointment.  I just KNEW everything was going to be fine (the chances were only 5% that they would not be fine, I constantly reminded myself of that).  I was eager to see my baby's heart beating away and to be told to rest so the bleeding would subside.  Nothing at all could have prepared me for the actuality of what happened at that visit.  Tuesdays, too, are hard, knowing that I should be 11, 12 (in the clear), and now 16 weeks pregnant.  If I were that far along now, would I be showing yet?  Would I be starting to feel the little flutters of movement?  Some people may think that it is unnecessary to think of these things, like I am torturing myself needlessly, but these thoughts cannot be kept at bay.  I think it is natural to wonder, especially when it is something that is so hard to accept and deal with.  But it's not always bad.  I thank God that I at least got to find out for sure before I actually passed the baby.  I know many people feel like the D&C is an awful experience, and I don't know which is worse for sure, but I do know that passing the baby "naturally" is a heartbreaking, gutwrenching experience.  If I had not had that appointment, I would have been so shocked and horrified when it was time that I don't know if I could have handled it.  I got to get a couple of ultrasound pictures of the baby, which are amazing mementos to have.  I think about how being pregnant with Taylor was one of the happiest times in my life.  So many of the worries I usually plague myself with just went away when I was pregnant.  There are so many things I can do to remember Taylor by, and that makes me happy, too.  Plans for a tattoo to honor all of my children, having Taylor's name written on a blade of grass, and written in the sand on a beach in Australia.  It hasn't been easy lately, but sometimes, I am able to smile.

And it feels really great when I do.

My Thoughts Vs. Reality

Ever since I was very young, I wanted to have 3 children.  Of course, my "plans" [how silly it was to try to map out my life at the tender age of 17, but, anyway.... I've learned a lot since then : )] ended up being very different from God's plan for me.  MY plan consisted of a successful career, and then 3 children all 3 years apart- modeled after my cousins, who, despite threatening to put each other up for "adoction" and pushing each other into fountains at the mall, seemed like a just right family- but that wasn't what was in the cards for me. 

At 17, during my last semester of high school, I got pregnant with my son.  I really was terrified; I knew my mom would be upset.  Also, my boyfriend and I had an extremely unhealthy relationship.  I stupidly thought about somehow trying to hide the pregnancy from my mom but of course that was not possible.  When the dad and I broke up about midway through my pregnancy, he called my mom and told her that I couldn't break up with him because I was pregnant with his kid.  This was not the best way to break it to her, but at least then she finally knew. It was a weight off my chest.  Luckily, I was able to start college in the fall at 7 1/2 months pregnant.  It was a little awkward, but I didn't realize how lucky I was at the time to be able to be starting school while pregnant with my first baby.  I always thought it was so weird when people would praise me and ask how I did it.  I just looked at it as doing what I had to do, and it really didn't seem special at the time.  I don't know if I could do now what I did then again.  I was lucky to have so much support! When Trent came in November of 1999, it was the best and craziest day ever.  I didn't think he was ever coming!  When he finally did it was the most amazing thing.  He was big and beautiful and perfect, and it was SO strange (but awesome!) to know that I was someone's mom- I had a son! Crazy : ) Somehow, I was able to go back to school 4 days after he was born.  Life went well, I did decently in school, I was learning to be a mom, and I was working and had a ton of help and support from my mom. 

When Trent was just over 2, I met Erik.  It was a chance meeting: we were both someplace we normally wouldn't be, and when I handed him my phone number he said thanks and grabbed it without missing a beat.  It felt like some kind of crazy destiny.  Unfortunately, we didn't really get along well.  It felt like we had to hang out and we had this crazy connection, but we weren't very nice to each other.  At 6 years older than me, he was much less mature than I thought he should be.  Becoming a dad was not something he was ready for.  This did not end up being something that was up to us, though.  6 weeks after we started dating, I became pregnant with Taryn.  I was due in December and I was horrified that she'd be born during finals, which meant I would have to delay graduating until the next year.  Fortunately, she cooperated with my schedule.  On Tuesday, December 17 (the day of my last final, which was in the early morning), she decided to join us.  She waited for me to finish, but then she was READY! My labor lasted about 5 hours from my first contraction to birth.  We got to the hospital at 6:30 and she arrived 17 minutes later.  She was gorgeous and wonderful and even though I was only 21 and the single mom to 2 babies,  my life was great.  I graduated from college 5 months later and was enjoying my family.  Trent loved her so much and things were going really well.

When Trent started pre-school just before he turned 5, he began asking about having a dad (his dad stayed in the picture- kind of- for about 11 months, but had long been absent by now).  His school did a lot of focus on father involvment (which was great except for Trent- who didn't have a father or even a good male role model).  I always said I was never daddy shopping, but having children made dating a completely different game.  I did not want to expose my kids to a series of random losers, and many guys my age were not ready to have kids- especially not one's who weren't theirs.  When Trent was 5 and a half, and Taryn was 2 and a half, I met Ryan.  We were close in age and he had just gotten out of a long, bad relationship.  Within just a few months we were engaged.  He was sweet and fun and loving, and he made me feel calm and happy.  He loved the kids and they loved him very much, too.  We got married in October of 2006 which was only 15 months after we met.  It was a whirlwind, and things were not always perfect.  But we both have learned a lot about each other, about parenting, and about how to have a great home and family.  Now that we've come so far, I'm very happy with the decisions we've made that brought us to this point.

I always said after having the kids that if I wasn't pregnant again by the time Taryn was 5, then I wanted to be done.  I was happy with a beautiful little boy and a beautiful little girl.  I figured Ryan would want children of his own, but his thoughts about biology do not really match up with other people's ideas of the difference between bio children and non bio children.  He was a daddy to these kids, and he was happy with that.  I know we kind of both wanted another, but I always resisted and made excuses about why I didn't want more children.  Being pregnant was usually awful for me, I got lots of morning sickness (both times all the way through the second trimester), gained a lot of weight, and basically, I just hated it.  I guess I just made a bad pregnant lady with Trent and Taryn.  After almost 4 years of not ending up pregnant, I think Ryan and I both had doubts about whether it could happen for us or not.  So you can imagine my surprise when I started to gain a little weight and decided to take a pregnancy test, just in case (I did not want to be drinking or doing anything else that may jeopardize the baby, if there was one), and it was positive.  All of my doubts went out the window!  All of the objections I had fell by the wayside- even though I tried to tell myself that they were still things to consider and be concerned about.  Lots would change, but Ryan and I both were ready for it.  Just like that.  He'd need a new car, we'd need a room for the baby and we'd need to renovate a room downstairs for Trent to move into.  It didn't matter. At all.  Once we told the kids, Trent was excited to be getting his own space and more privacy, so the worry of kicking him out of his room and isolating him wasn't even relevant.  I began to wonder what it would be like to have a baby around.  I thought about getting big, sharing the news, buying new baby things.  I wanted to make a blanket and other things, and right from the start I was eager to know if the baby was a boy or a girl.  I dreamed about how the nursery would look, about having a baby shower- we were all so excited!  Now that I know the happiness of anticipating a new family member, I am sort of eager to try again.  Not that a new baby would replace Taylor.  AT ALL!

I guess we'll have to wait and see what the plan for me turns out to be.  Lord knows what I think is going to happen doesn't usually turn out to be reality!

I Don't Really Know Where to Start, But....

I really feel like I need to do this.  It has simply been far too overwhelming to live my life day to day and act like everything is ok.  I always hold SO MUCH in and I don't have anyone I can be completely open with.  I don't speak my mind, I don't emote, I don't get anything off my chest.  It's just gotten to be too much lately.  I am tired of not speaking out when there is so much going on in my head, and in my heart. 

So.  What's going on? Why do I feel this way?  Well, anyone who knows me knows that recently I miscarried a baby.  This is so much harder than anyone who hasn't gone through it could possibly understand!  I am so ashamed to admit that I honestly never understood how upsetting and awful this could possibly be.  There is no way to describe how awful it felt to get on that ultrasound table and knowing, knowing but not understanding entirely, that my baby was no longer alive.  I remember her saying, 9 weeks, 4 days, and thinking, how did the baby's growth slow down, I should be about 10 weeks, it's too small.  I wondered what she needed to do to her equipment to get the heartbeat to show up.  Then it all sank in, but my mind tried to protect itself just a bit longer.  Finally, she said the words.  She showed me where the baby's head was, where it's abdomen was, where the heart was, and finally said, "and there's no heartbeat, and no motion."  I didn't know (despite already having 2 kids) that at 9 w 4 d the baby's heart is already completely developed, that they have arms, legs, fingers and toes, and already are in there moving around like crazy! It is SO amazing to think that a baby the size of a quarter (!) can move and play. Now that a little time has passed, it makes me smile to think about it.  The night I found out (Friday, August 13), however, I just lied on the couch and SOBBED!  All I could think about was that tiny baby in there, moving, growing, developing, it's heart beating like crazy (172 bpm at the ultrasound on my birthday), and suddenly, for reasons I will never get to know in my lifetime, it all just.... stopped.  Did it hurt?  How did it happen?  Why this baby, and why me, and why our family?  It really doesn't seem fair (yes, I know that is a whiney thing to say, but it's true). 

These weeks following have been so crazy.  I honestly feel lost.  I don't know how I am supposed to feel, act, or think.  Society doesn't treat miscarriages like other deaths, and now that I know what it's like, I am so PISSED that this is the case.  It's not "just a miscarriage."  It's the loss of a baby!  It's wondering, was it a boy or a girl, what happened, why me, what would this baby have looked like, have been like, how would he or she changed our family?  There are so many questions we will never have answered, and that is so hard to live with!  With that, I have always swore that if I had another baby (which I insisted I wouldn't, but that's a thought for a different time), that regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl, its name would be Taylor.  So, now you all know who Taylor is when I speak of him or her.  I refuse to live my whole life out referring to this precious child as "it."  I will speak of Taylor often, because I love this baby, and I am not going to pretend like this never happened!  No one who's had a miscarriage should have to.