Too Much

I haven't said much lately here (or anywhere) because I have too much going on in my mind and everything feels crazy and up in the air lately.  I haven't been feeling well, for one thing, and that's been a little troublesome.  I know I should just go to the doctor but I think that's scary.  I also go back and forth thinking I'm fine or else I'm super sick and terrified to find out for sure.  I did express my concerns to one friend but she just laughed.  I think she thinks I'm just trying to be dramatic but as she's known me for about 14 years, she should know better.  I'm the type who will go to work half dead and insist I'm fine, so if I'm alarmed that I could actually be seriously sick, wouldn't it make sense that maybe I have a reason to think so?  Anyway, though, I really don't want to talk about that.  I just kinda wanted to get it off my chest because it has been on my mind quite a bit lately.

Another thing is that I just can't seem to get anything done.  I feel trapped in my messy house and I just have not been able to keep up on things.  I feel like stuff just piles up and piles up and is about to come crashing down around me.  It is frustrating!! I have no idea what I have been doing lately, but it obviously is not keeping up on the house or any other responsibilities.  I am behind on PTA stuff and I don't even care anymore.  I just feel like I am burdened by all of these things that I should care about but just don't.  I guess I should stop trying to do more than I can handle, but i see other's who seem to be able to do it all, so why can't I?  I want to be able to help my kids with their scout stuff, to be involved with PTA so I can make a difference in their school, keep a nice home, and help cultivate their interests (like karate lately), but I do not seem to have the energy (or interest) in doing all of this.  I don't know what's wrong with me!!

Some other things that have been on my mind is that we are somehow low on money, and work is open this year on Christmas (which is total bullshit but I have no idea how to get out of it).  I don't know how we got low on funds, and I know I have money set aside for birthdays and Christmas and Ryan will be getting money back from having to travel but it's just another thing on my list that is concerning me.  We aren't in serious trouble or anything like that, it is just another thing I don't feel like dealing with.  It probably didn't help that I've had to miss work periodically but with losing Taylor, and then Ryan travelling, and Ryan having to travel again, plus taking a day off here and there, it's been unavoidable to miss time.  I am also pissed and freaking out a bit that we are actually open this year on Christmas.  My boss says, "we are in the service industry, so we signed up to work holidays," but I have worked there for 12+ years and this is the first time we've been open on Christmas.  I signed up for a job where when I started, the boss was fair about scheduling on holidays (3 hour shifts for EVERYONE. Period.), but also WE WERE ALWAYS CLOSED ON CHRISTMAS!  I hate working for a company that is so greedy it would prefer to ruin ALL of it's employee's holiday just to make a few extra bucks.  I am seriously considering looking for a new job that I can start before Christmas or quitting, but I can not afford to just up and quit.  So, so, so stressed out about the holidays!  It's already hard enough with the kids' birthday's near the holidays and trying to figure out a menu that can accommodate Ryan's health, Kate and Eddy's beliefs (vegan), and Mark's desired diet, but now I have to toss work into the mix.  UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!  Plus this is the first time in about 15 years that my grandma may be coming for Christmas.  I HAVE to get out of working it!  It's 2 months away and I'm already stressing big time.  It makes me furious!!  I have to get out of that place, I hate it!!

Also, I don't know why I haven't been taking working out seriously but I just don't feel like doing it.  I still walk 3 days a week but I don't keep up on the other things I was doing, I don't make the effort to walk on weekends or after work when I work days, I don't even take the 5 minutes to get on the wii fit to do my body test everyday anymore.  I have no excuse for this.  But I feel tired and have no energy and my weight has been all over the place lately so I really should take it more seriously.  It wouldn't kill me to devote half an hour a day to exercise and keep track of how I'm doing, or to eat better, or to take my vitamins everyday, but I just have not been doing it.  I have no idea why I have lost all motivation, but it's gone.  Part of me does not even care anymore.

With all of this craziness going on I feel like I am losing my mind.  I dread work EVERY time I go, I am getting burned out with my new schedule (the Thursday night to Friday mornings is just killing me! And I hate working with one of the people who works on both of those shifts), I have been preoccupied and grouchy and worried and I am being stupid and stubborn and I know it but I don't know who to talk to or who can help me or just be by my side (Ryan has to work the rest of the week and go out of town next week), and I am behind on all of my priorities and am starting to feel like I am never going to catch up.  I have been so exhausted and I don't even know why.  I really need to figure out a new schedule! I just have no idea where to start with anything!  I am tired of feeling so lost but I don't know how to catch up or who can help me. 

In the midst of all of this, I haven't even been able to think about Taylor very much.  I didn't light a candle on Friday, I tried not to think about it being the day it was (even though in the back of my mind I had been planning to focus that day on Taylor, and the other sweet babies we no longer have), and yesterday I had planned to do a special blog entry but then had the time and energy and emotion to spend 5 minutes writing a few lines that did not give the situation and feelings justice.

The only good thing I have given myself time for is thanking God for getting new days each time I wake up, and for being with my sweet kids and hoping and praying that I will have a long, long time to be here enjoying them.  Sometimes I am afraid that Taylor left so I could, too.  I want to be here with Trent and Taryn for a LONG time to come.  Maybe that sounds crazy but it just comes to mind sometimes.  And it totally scares me!  : (

Halfway There

Today I should be 20 weeks.  If I were still pregnant, how happy and excited would I be to be halfway there?  I'd be feeling the baby move... I'd know if Taylor was a he or a she now...

Instead I am wondering what might have been, and if there is a reason this happened, and what it might be.

I am angry and upset.

October 15th

Today is baby loss awareness/ remembrance day.  I remember finding out about it last year and I felt so sad over J.J. then.  I never thought I'd be in the position to know how it feels to lose a child.  I never thought that the pain I saw in my best friend's eyes and the tears I tried to help stop pour from his eyes would be mine a year later.  I didn't know that I'd have to ask him for advice on how to feel, what to say or think, or just what to DO in general to not have it tear me apart.  It's getting easier and that scares the hell out of me.  But just because the days continue to be livable and life goes on (they say) doesn't mean I don't love and miss Taylor terribly.  I can't believe it's been 9 weeks already since I found out.  Tuesday will mark what should be my 20th week of pregnancy, the exciting halfway there point.  It still hurts, I just have not let it hurt as much as it should lately, I think.  It is such an all-consuming thing if you let it be.  But I don't think trying to live like normal is the best thing either..... I don't know where I'm going with this, just rambling I guess.  I'm in a constant state of feeling lost over all of this.  I can't even describe it.

Here's something I heard, loved, and want to throw out there.  I heard an analogy somewhere that I think is good to keep in mind.  If your dad died, and you grieved, would that mean you love your mom less to be sad over losing him?  No!  Of course not.  That's how it is with losing a baby, too.  Yes, I have AMAZING children.  It does not mean Taylor did not or does not matter.  He or she was their own person, with their own special place in my heart.  I love Taylor, and I lost Taylor, and OF COURSE that does not make the children I have here with me any more or less important.  I love them all for who they are and I should be allowed to grieve without being reminded of what I have, as if that makes it less hard somehow.

Don't forget that.

So today is the day to remember my Taylor, and all of those other special babies who live with God and not their parents.  Please take a little time to remember today, and every October 15. 1 in 4 knows what it feels like to say goodbye to their baby before they got to meet them, so please spread the word (and the love and support), you probably know someone who really needs it!  And if you don't know what to say to those who have lost, don't let that be an excuse to say nothing.

Me

There are a lot of things about me that I hope to change soon.  I am tired of worrying and freaking myself out; I do not know when this became a habit for me, but I am tired of doing it to myself and I hope I can learn how to stop, or to shape it into something more reasonable and productive.  I really need to strengthen myself through prayer and by doing what is right as often as possible and to the best of my ability so that I can put my worry elsewhere and enjoy living this one and only life I have been given.  I need to stop doubting my worth as a person and I need to stop doubting others.  My ego and pride get in the way sometimes when I feel underestimated or insulted; I need to figure out how I can change my reaction to this and how I can put myself in situations and near people where this may not happen so much.  There are so many things I want to do and be, and I need to start living my life and stop worrying about things that are out of my hands.  I used to be so much stronger, happier, and I used to have the ability to roll with the punches and go with the flow, I don't know when, where, or how I lost all that!  And I'm not really sure how to get it back, but I need to try!

Wondering When....

I am wondering when:

When will it not hurt to see a burgeoning tummy
Or a tiny baby or child with their mother

When I can walk past baby things and not turn my head away
Or wonder why I don't even know if it was a he or a she

When my stomach will no longer feel the empty ache
Or when I'll stop counting the days and weeks that should've been

When I won't have a cutting comment in my mind
Or when I can be truly happy for new parents

When will I be strong enough to say "it's ok"
Or if I'll ever mean it

Coincidence

I took the night off tonight to go to a play with the kids, through boy scouts.  We saw Dracula at a local theater and it was a lot of fun.  The kids got to wear their Halloween costumes, so it was kind of nice for them to be able to wear them already, and to be able to use them more than once, even though Trent just wore his new karate uniform and brought the  nunchucks from his ninja costume along.  It was really cool to be able to spend extra time with the kids (as it always is) and to get out and do something different.  Afterward, the people who own the theater gave the kids a tour of the theater and talked about the theater and taught the kids some general things about acting and stage directions.  I think both of the kids enjoyed it; Ryan and I did, also.

The "coincidence" of all this is that, on the very first step of the tour, the instant we walked backstage, something immediately caught my eye.  A small section of the brick wall was painted white, and people who had visited or been a part of the theater had written their names on the wall.  Guess which name jumped right out at me the second we stepped backstage?  If you said "Taylor Schell," then you were right!  How crazy is that?!  It kind of made me feel like no matter what, there would always be little reminders that my baby was someone who meant a lot, and that I (and others) will never forget : )  It's a great feeling!

Ryan took a picture:

I am also thrilled that Taylor's name has been written in the sand!!  The original request didn't go through so we just emailed them back with what we would like the memorial to say.  I can't wait to see it all when it's done : )

http://namesinthesand.blogspot.com/2010/10/taylor-schell-van-otterloo.html

Update: recevied reply email yesterday, this link will now take you to the pic with how we wanted the memorial to read.  Love it!

Strong Enough

Being a mom is one of the hardest things anyone could hope to be.  While it is amazingly rewarding, it is also full of struggle, heartache, headaches, and tears.  A mom's job is to teach her children to be good, responsible, kind, thoughtful individuals.  Yet the better the mom does that job, the more she needs to be able to let her children grow and learn, sometimes without her.  As the kids get older I struggle constantly with this.  When the kids want to do something on their own, and widen their boundaries a bit more, the good mom in me says "yes" while the worrying hoverer screams "no!" but luckily that no is usually just in the back of my mind.

I want to be a mom who is a mother, a role model, and a good influence and not one who tries to be cool and be a friend.  My kids deserve more than that!  They need ME (how amazing!) to teach them right from wrong, to provide boundaries, and to let them grow into whoever they choose to be.  The older they get the harder this becomes.  I hope I can always do a good job at this, but, sometimes I don't always know if I am or not.  As Trent approaches 11 (!!!!) it becomes more and more apparent that he isn't just a child.  We're still close, I just want to have the strength to be the PARENT he'll need as he grows into a man.  Sometimes this is so scary!  Will I really have the nerve to talk to him about drugs, sex, peer pressure, succeeding at his interests?  Will we be close enough that he'll want to listen, or at least take to heart some of what I have to teach? 

Mostly I worry that as we all grow, we will have times where we grow a bit further from each other.  Am I strong enough to be able to go through those tough times when they don't like me and we don't see eye to eye?  Am I brave enough to be the role model they will need?  Do I have the courage to say no to them when it is what they need but not what they want to hear?  I always hope and pray that I am and will be a good mother; I really need continued strength within and support from others to do so.

What Next?

It kind of boggles my mind that immediately after having a miscarriage, one of the first questions to come up is "What next?"  Meaning, "are you going to try again?" "do you want to try again?" "when are you trying again?"  After going through a loss of this magnitude, all I can honestly say is that I have no idea where to even start.  Just thinking about it puts me in panic mode.  I still have not processed everything, and I certainly have not dealt with it all in productive ways, either.  Now that some time has passed, things are starting to get better; but certainly not right after this happened could I have even rationally began to consider anything serious involving what next. 

At this point, I ask myself, "What IS next?"  Still, I don't know.  I don't know what I want, I don't know what to think, I don't know how to feel, I don't know what to do.  Just trying to work out all of the options, all of the problems, and all of the considerations seriously seems totally daunting.  My mind may not be ready to deal with this yet.  Maybe it never will, I may just have to force myself through and past it.  To the question, do I want to have another baby or try again, the answer is yes.  The more problematic questions are, can I try again, do I have the strength to be in this position again, am I emotionally ready to deal with this yet?  Well, probably not so much.  That is where I get stumped.  Of course everyone says this wasn't my fault but for one, we don't (and never will) know that for sure, and two, it is still easy to think that maybe it was.  I did the best I could but there is no way to know if maybe, despite caring for my body and this child, something I did or did not do caused this.  Another troublesome factor is maybe something is wrong with us.  Yes, I have had healthy babies, but that doesn't mean I am fine enough to have another.  Maybe something is wrong with me, or Ryan, or both of us, or the combination of us.  When we first got married, there were a couple times where I was sure that if I was going to get pregnant, it would have been then, and then that month I'd have heavy periods and wonder if I had been pregnant and it did not work out.  Now that this has happened, it worries me more than ever that this was not the first baby we lost, just the first we knew about.  It also makes me feel really terrible that I wasn't even more concerned back then when I did wonder.  I always felt let down and worried, of course, when I kind of hoped to be pregnant and wasn't; but if we lost other precious children, I wish we knew for sure, and I wish we knew why.  Another issue is time.  It took FOREVER to get pregnant.  I don't want to wait another 4 years to see if it happens again.  I already felt like we had put too much time between Trent and Taryn and this pregnancy, I don't want to go on hoping and waiting for more YEARS.  I know that the rational answer is to go to the doctor and see what they say.  I do have some concerns with this as well.  For one, if something was wrong with one or both of us, would we want to know and would we be prepared to deal with it?  Secondly, I no longer have a doctor I feel I can trust.  When I had Taryn I LOVED the place I went to; this time, I hated going there and was unimpressed with their practices and their disorganization.  There were concerns and issues that were raised and not properly addressed, there were test results that were interpreted differently by 2 different nurses, there were times I called and was not responded to in a timely fashion, and when I wanted to come in to make sure the baby was ok, I was put off and had to fight for my appointment.  Furthermore, doctors do not always have answers.  We will never know if Taylor was the only baby we lost.  We will never know why Taylor did not live.  Maybe if we do seek out help, there won't be any good answers.  Then what?  Do I have the strength, time, and energy to deal with this?

I hope and pray that we can move forward, and even (someday) find an answer we can deal with to "What next?"

Memories of the Beginning

Not long after we said goodbye to our wonderful baby, I began typing up my memories about the pregnancy.  I didn't get super far, but this is what I recalled in those painful days after we lost Taylor:

July 6, 2010: I’ve been gaining a tiny amount of weight over the past couple of weeks for no apparent reason, so in the back of my mind, it clicks that maybe I’m pregnant.  I haven’t kept track of my cycle very well, and i don’t think I’m very late, if at all. It seems unlikely, as Ryan and I haven’t gotten pregnant in almost 4 years, but I figure what the heck? I have a pregnancy test and I might as well find out, just to be sure. I’m 99% sure it will be negative, and then I’ll start eating better, lose the extra couple of pounds.  It’s been a while since I’ve taken a test, but I remember what to do. It’s first thing in the morning, so I sleepily do what I think I’m supposed to and realize after I’m done that I didn’t do what the instructions said.  Great.  Now maybe I’ve wasted a test. I set it aside and finish in the bathroom, look at the test and see two pink lines.  Two.  Two means pregnant.   I look again; look at the instructions again, at the test again, at the instructions again, carefully comparing the two.  It’s positive; I’m going to have a baby.  Despite the millions of objections I’ve had over the past few years about this—the kids are too old, I don’t want to start all over, I have a boy and a girl and that’s perfect, I hate being pregnant, we don’t have room in the house for a baby, Ryan would need a new car—I am unbelievably happy.  I hesitate, thinking to myself that for some reason, I should wait to tell people.  But I’ve had 2 perfect pregnancies in the past—despite being scared and doing and thinking stupid things during them.  Nothing was going to go wrong, and I was so happy.  I texted a friend right away to tell her the news.  Then another.  A third, and finally, a fourth friend who is one of my best friends, has been my longest friend, but also may not be happy: she’s the friend I can voice my worries to, even though I am in a thrilled state of stupor.  The kids and I go swimming so I bask in the sun while they play, happy but still completely shocked.  A little apprehensive now about telling people, thinking of how to tell my husband, our families, and the kids. I know they will be happy, but, again, my mind tells me to wait, at least to wait a while before we tell the kids.  Ryan texts and asks how I am.  I don’t want to tell him over text but I don’t know what to say, how to lie and cover it and act as if it’s a regular day.  I am glad it’s a Tuesday, because that means he only works a half day, and I won’t have to wait so long to tell him.  I say we’re fine, and I tell him I have some news.  “News? What kind of news? Is everything ok?  Is it good news?”  I prod him to be patient, that I’d rather tell him in person, but he keeps trying to guess.  He asks if it’s something I always wanted and I think he’s alluding to this, because I did used to want 3 kids, and he knows that.  So instead I ask what I always wanted.  He loses his nerve and says, I don’t know.  I teasingly say I always wanted to win the lottery, but I haven’t.  By now he’s home, and we haven’t arrived back yet.  He pesters me about when we’ll be home, what’s the news. We finally get back home and Ryan and I go into our room without the kids.  He keeps guessing what the news is and then says, “Are you pregnant?”  Stupidly, unromantically, and less than perfect, I reply, “I guess so” sort of gushingly, and hand him the test.  I don’t know if he was happy or not, initially.  It made me a little nervous because I thought he always wanted this; he was always the one who seemed to want another child, not me.  I think maybe we were both just surprised.  It had taken so long, and obviously, I could have kids, so I think we both doubted his ability to.  I figured it happening now was God’s way of letting us know the timing was right, even though it was a surprise.  That maybe we needed to get to this point in our relationship, where we were getting along pretty well again, and content, before it was a good time.  He said he was happy, just surprised, so I didn’t push.  I knew at some point, he’d be very happy.  I went to run an errand and he laughed at me when I returned with a pregnancy book.  What to Expect, Eat Well When You’re Expecting.  The irony was that lately, I HAD been eating well.  Very well.  Except now.  I started to crave junk and was completely turned off by the healthy things I had been eating regularly before.  I asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner, I had won a gift card from work for a restaurant, but he didn’t feel like going there.  We chose a healthier place that jives better with his eating needs.  By now he was bursting, hinting that we should tell the kids.  It made me very happy to know that we were both happy and I hoped this happiness would be infectious.  Still, I wanted to wait a little while-- to   break the news to our families and the kids maybe over my birthday, which was in a couple of weeks.  But I was going to be having a baby, and we were happy, and everything was going to work out just fine. 

July 7, 2010:

It was Wednesday, which is my Monday for the workweek, and usually the busiest night of my week.   Derek, my friend and “boss” asked what’s new when I arrived and I replied, “How big is your mouth?”  I was dying to tell him but didn’t want everyone to know right away, and I know he has a big mouth.  He confusedly asked, “Huh?” and I told him he had to keep a secret.  Mostly, I didn’t want Andy, the cook, and my friend, to find out before I had a chance to tell "S", one of my best friends in the whole world, but who had lost his son last year tragically to meningitis.  The baby was gone by the end of the day he had gotten sick, and it was already rapidly coming up on one year since this happened.  I was apprehensive about telling him.  He’s a wonderful friend, but I knew it wouldn’t be easy for him to hear or be happy about, and the timing was pretty terrible.  Derek promised he’d keep a secret and so I said, “I’m pregnant” or “I’m going to have another baby,” something to that effect.  He shrieked and got as excited as I figured most of my girlfriends would.  “FINALLY!” he exclaimed, and I laughed.  He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone, but I assumed he’d tell his girlfriend Ariel, which was fine with me.    It made me happy that other people would be happy and excited about it, and, secretly, I was already thinking about baby showers, baby things, how I’d do up a nursery, the blankets I’d crochet for him or her.  When I arrived home that night, Ryan confessed that he’d told his brother Mark.  I was nervous because that meant we’d have to tell the rest of the family soon, but I was happy that he was happy and excited, and so I felt content.

July 8, 2010:

My friend Jenny is thrilled.  She just had a baby last summer, so she offered me some prenatal vitamins she had leftover.  We stop by to get them, and she secretly congratulated Ryan and me.  He’s beaming.  We excitedly talk about it behind the kid’s backs, and hang out for a bit and play with her kids, then we take off to run some other errands.  I start taking the vitamins right away, although I leave them in the trunk of my car so the kids and people at work won’t see, and I take them every day when I get to work.  I am feeling so excited about the growing baby inside; and feeling excited that other people are excited.  This is really an amazing thing!

Sunday, July 11, 2010

This weekend Ryan worked, so his parents watched the kids for us while I went to work, until he got home.  Since I wasn’t there, I can only tell the story secondhand.  Apparently, Ryan was outside with his parents, the kids were playing on their bikes, as usual, and Ryan told his parents he had some news to share.  Somehow, Trent was listening and shouted out, “Mom’s pregnant!”  Ryan told him no, it’s something else, and then proceeded to share the news with his parents.  When I got home, he said, “I told my parents.”  I scolded him jokingly, saying now we had to hurry up and tell his sister, and my mom.  And, soon, I supposed, the kids.

July 12, 2010

The kids have morning swimming lessons, so we take them, hang out and enjoy watching.  When they’re done, as they come over and start to dry off I kiddingly say, “Hey, Trent, I heard you thought I’m pregnant.”  He sheepishly laughs as I pretend to joke around with him and then I say, “Well, you were right.”  He doesn’t look as happy as I had hoped he would (I thought after begging me to have a dozen kids, he’d be thrilled), but Taryn lights up, exclaiming “You are?!? Oh, mommy I’m so happy!! If it’s a girl we should name her Vanessa, and if it’s a boy we should name him Scottie or Tommy.  I hope the baby can sleep in my room.”  I am thrilled that she is so excited; I think she will be an excellent big sister.  Later that day, Trent and Ryan sit outside at the patio table and are talking, looking a little serious.  A little while later, they are laughing and Trent seems relaxed.  I ask what they’re talking about and Ryan tells me, “man stuff.”  I decide I’ll ask Ryan more about it later.  He tells me they were talking about how it’d be different once the baby comes, and how Trent can move downstairs and make his own cool room to stay in.  I am glad Trent is warming up to the idea, although one of my objections to this has always been that Trent would probably have to move downstairs and I don’t want him to feel like he’s being kicked out of his room or being segregated from the rest of us.  Now, it really seems like Trent is warming up to all of the changes that will be going on.  Things are falling into place, and it’s so exciting.

July 13, 2010

It’s Tuesday, Ryan has to work a late half day today, and Taryn starts the first day of 3 for gymnastics camp.  I am excited that I’ll have some time to hang out with Trent; he is such a fun kid.  We get Taryn settled, and then we take off.  We run some errands, nothing exciting; he helps me pick out sandals to wear to a baby shower I’m going to over the weekend.  We go to Target and he looks at toys for a long time while I look at baby stuff (for myself, but also for my 2 cousins, one having a boy, the other, a girl).  We leave with too much time left so we stop by my mom’s house, which is just down the street from gymnastics camp.  We’re hanging around, chatting; Trent keeps eyeing me, eager for me to tell my mom.  Finally, he gives me a VERY pointed look, and then eyes my mom dramatically, nudging his head slightly.  I smile, knowing he’s eager to see her reaction, and I say, “You can tell her.”  She looks at us quizzically, and Trent says, “My mom is gonna have another baby.”  She shrieks, clapping and yelling, and I know Trent finds this very amusing, probably the best reaction he could’ve hoped for.  “Oh, I just knew you’d change your mind and have another one!”  I hold my tongue about how long it took for this to happen, assuming she thought I’d been trying NOT to have a baby all this time.  We’re thrilled that she’s so ecstatic, and when it’s time to get Taryn, she’s disappointed she missed the big reveal to grandma.  It’s a happy day.

**Knowing this baby was an amazing experience, one I am grateful for.

Happiest Birthday

Who would've thought that turning 29 would end up being so great?  It freaks me out a little to be so close to 30 ( I seriously remember my mom turning 30 like it was yesterday... what happened?!) but my 29th birthday was one of the best days.  Ever.  I had found out I was pregnant just 3 weeks before, and had had my first doctor's appointment 8 days earlier.  My first ultrasound was scheduled for my birthday and I could not wait.  I had never been to the doctor or had an ultrasound so early in my pregnancies before and I was so excited.  I also wasn't sure about my dates so I was looking forward to getting a better idea about when my due date would be.  The ultrasound tech was kinda dingy and I was not very impressed with her but I tried not to let it bother me, I was too excited about the ultrasound anyway.  Once we finally got everything under way, it was really cool.  I could see the tiny heart beating away and I was overwhelmingly happy (I don't remember ever having such a good view before).  I found out I was due about a week later than I thought, March 9; which is three days before and three days after my 2 best friend's birthdays.  The only thing that put a damper on the experience was the ultrasound tech telling us, "the chance of miscarriage at this point is about 5 percent."  I remember thinking "why on earth are you even telling me this?" and putting it out of my head.  If only I had known that it is not out of the question to fall into that scant 5 percent.... : (

The rest of the day went well, nothing too exciting, it was just fun to tell people that baby looked good and share my due date.  Sometimes I don't know if it was good or bad that people knew, but it is what it is.  I can't go back and redo it, but the first thing I thought when it happened was "I wish no one knew".  I wasn't ashamed or anything, I just didn't want to have to tell people that my baby was gone, especially not the kids or Ryan or his mom.   

Even though losing this baby was one of the worst experiences of my life (yes, I have had experiences about as bad as this, unfortunately), getting to reflect on the happy times make it hurt a little less.  Getting to know my baby on my birthday was one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me.  The feelings of happiness and the times where all my worries went away while I was pregnant were so wonderful.  I am grateful to have had this tiny little person in my life, even if it was for far less time than I'd have preferred.

Unbelievable

When I think about the ultrasound pictures I had of the baby, it's crazy to think that there was a little person in there growing and developing and now there is not.  Even the differences between the ultrasound pictures, taken just a couple weeks apart, are amazing.  On my birthday the baby was barely more than a couple of little blobs; it's heart, beating away so quickly and strong, was the size of a speck.  I never would have been able to distinguish it from some of the other specs on the screen.  It was so cool to see something that tiny and to know it was fully functioning and forming into a little person.  The ultrasound tech told us (the kids and me) that the baby was half an inch long at that point. Wow!

By the time I went into the office on August 13, the baby had stopped growing at 9 weeks and 4 days; about 5-6 days prior to my visit.  However, I could easily see how he or she had moved, the first time we saw the baby it's head was to the left, the next time, his or her body was turned the other way.  The area around the baby had more space to it, and the baby was much larger.  The heart looked more like a heart, and you can see little hands held up by the face, and little feet.  Taylor was only the size of about a quarter (close to an inch long, and weighing in at a minuscule 2 grams), but he or she was already well on the way to being an amazing little person.

It is so hard to believe that the tiny person I got to see twice was growing in me.  I really miss that little person, I'll always wish we got to bring him or her home.  I still find it all absolutely unbelievable.

Some of the Why's

It is very frustrating not having answers about Taylor.  I hate to be a whiner, but IT'S NOT FAIR.  There is so much about this experience that leads me to that conclusion, so it is hard not to say it sometimes.  Overall, the treatment of miscarriages is so ridiculous, I can NOT believe it.  This has been a really crappy learning experience! I feel so bad for people who have been through this, especially more than once.  It makes me feel terrible that so many people have gotten the treatment I have: the brush-off's, the not taking it seriously, or acting as if it is not the loss of a child, the b.s. explanations: "it's probably a genetic or chromosomal problem."  Not knowing much of anything has really been the hardest part.  Especially after looking into miscarriage as much I could and finding out that slightly over half of tested miscarried babies have a chromosomal or genetic problem.  That means that many miscarriages end just.... because.  Was something wrong with my baby?  It is not a comforting thought AT ALL to have that be the explanation.  But is it worse to think that Taylor was fine, that there really is no good reason that he or she is gone?  Another thing that really bothers me, and I hate to even go here, is that medical practitioners do not tell you (or, at least, they didn't tell me) that you can save the tissue, and, ultimately, the fetus, and at least bury it or something.  Actually passing everything was mindblowingly agonizing, everytime something came out I wondered, was that the baby?  I wish I could go back and maybe have a D & C, testing may not have been possible but at least I could have buried my baby or at least know where the baby went.  It is ridiculous that mothers who miscarry bleed their babies into a toilet and no one thinks to tell them they don't have to.

I wish more people in the medical profession had more compassion and treated their patients like people.

Wasting Time and Looking for Myself

For quite a while I have felt like I waste a lot of time doing nothing important.  I haven't finished school (still) which is really upsetting.  Sometimes I feel like I should just plain give up and other times I know I can finish and don't have to explain myself to anyone about why it has taken so long.  I have been stuck at my job, which I'd prefer not to be, but don't know where to look and I keep using that as an excuse.  I miss being artistic but I don't devote the time to do anything artistic and creative.  I've wanted to learn German for a long, long time and yet I don't.  I am tired of not doing anything useful anymore.  I really need to find some motivation to do the things I keep putting off and I am not sure where to start.

On the plus side, I feel like writing on this blog (despite a lack of interest from others) is a really good way to do one thing that I had been wanting to do for a long time: speak my mind.  I have gotten a lot out and have shared more than I dreamed I would have had the courage to.  Holding so much in and being lonely for so long really took a toll on me.  It's such a relief to have a place where I can get some thoughts out and have a place to sort all of the craziness in my head. 

Being a mom is the best thing that ever happened to me.  I know the circumstances were not always ideal, but I did the best I could from the very beginning and I am lucky that becoming a mother made me a better person.  I'm a far cry from perfect but I do my best to be a great mom.  Unfortunately, being a parent is not always wonderful.  Worrying about my children, and now losing one, is a very difficult thing to deal with.  A piece of me really wants a new baby again and an equally large piece of me would be horrified if I ended up pregnant.  I don't know what to do anymore.  I am scared that because it took almost 4 years to get pregnant again, I won't.  I am scared because if I did get pregnant again I'd wonder if something was wrong with us and I'd be afraid of losing another baby.  I know no one can help me with these issues, but I wish someone had all the answers.  I have never felt more all over the place in my life.  I feel so lost lately, I don't know how to get myself back.