2 Years Ago...

2 years ago I just knew everything with my little "nugget" was going to be just fine
I was going to see him or her on the ultrasound and know they were ok
I got up on that table, excited to see my baby
and then I had the wind knocked out of me with the words,
"there is no heartbeat, and no movement"

2 years ago I smoked a cigarette with a friend who came over just to give me a hug
I watched "man on fire" with my husband and knew I'd never want to watch it again
I cried and cried, wondering if it hurt my baby when their heart stopped
I wondered why

2 years ago I never thought I would be able to get past the pain
and I certainly never thought I would have the strength to do it all over again
I thought, this has happened to other people more than once, I don't know how they can do it

2 years ago we said goodbye
way too soon, no one wanted to

2 years ago we found out our baby died

Welp, Went to the Doctor Today and... NOTHIN'. Yet.

Going to the doctor was discouraging and uneventful.  We didn't start the recurrent miscarriage panel on me because the doctor brought up cost.  Well, frankly, I don't care much about the cost, but it's not only up to me and right now we can't afford a big unexpected expense, so we're going to see what insurance will cover first and work it out from there.  It's annoying that I can't figure out what's going on because we have to be concerned with finances.  The way the medical system works is totally fucked.  Just putting that out there. 

It was also discouraging because, as nice as the doctor seems, she wasn't very positive about the outcome of doing the panel.  Basically, she seemed to think the outcome may not produce answers and used the word "tricky" several times.  The test on the baby is "tricky,"  the panel might be "tricky" as often everything turns up "normal" (what DOES that mean, medically, anyway?  the range of "normal" results for any given thing is ridiculously large), even if something wrong did turn up with my results, dealing with it or fixing it or making it better next time can be "tricky."  She also said that "some physicians might say 'what's the point?'"  REALLY?  The point, for me, is not having to keep losing a baby who once had a heartbeat.  Isn't that a good enough reason?

Also, they had not yet yielded any results on the baby.  I REALLY REALLY hope this doesn't mean that we won't be able to find anything out.  I'm pretty torn.  If we find out nothing, then I'll still have billions of questions... forever.  If we find out something was wrong with the baby, then, well, something was wrong with my baby.  If we find out the baby was OK, then we'll wonder why this happened, or if there was something we could've done to prevent it.  It's hard, but I'd like to know either way.  It won't change what happened, but a little closure would be great.

We'd like to try again but at this point, I don't know what to do.  We're not getting any younger, the kids aren't getting any younger, and I don't want to push my luck and find out how many times I can deal with going through this.  It's so frustrating and upsetting.  I know I feel discouraged.

Birthday memories

Last year, on my birthday, I had my first ultrasound of Taylor.  I got to revel in the magic of knowing that my baby was 1/2 and inch big (WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW is all I can say to that)!  I saw a little blob (I honestly don't know how those ultrasound tech's can tell what's what sometimes) with a heart that was beating LIKE CRAZY!  It was one of THE coolest experiences I have ever had.  29 was definitely my best birthday! 

Yesterday, I turned 30.  There has been no rainbow baby, and as far as I can tell, there won't be.  I haven't been feeling well ever since October.  Well, really, since August 13, but the switch from sad about losing a baby to actually sick happened in October.  I've been making myself nuts for the last 11 1/2 months- whether it be about Taylor or about not feeling well.  

But, as a nice girl from work reminded me, "it may be an end to an era, but a new one is only beginning!"  THAT, my friends, is true!  And truly worth celebrating!  I'm 30 (holy cow!), but that's just a perfect excuse to close a book on my past and look forward to seeing what new things are in store for me.  I'm ready!

Yay, Summer???

Don't get me wrong, I am totally excited that it's summer.  BUT...

1.  I always THINK we're gonna do this, this, this, and that.  Then, it's a week before school starts and I realize we haven't done ANY of it.  So, I made a to-do list, hoping that seeing it in my little notebook will keep me motivated to actually DO many of the fun things on the list, which include:
*see my friend Patrick's newest play
*go on tours of Coors (which I haven't done since I was about 12) and of the celestial seasonings factory (which I got ditched out on the couple of times my mom went, when Trent was too young to go)
*join the summer reading programs and actually take advantage of the fun (FREE!) events they have going on throughout the summer for the kids
*go to Elitches, Water World, Lakeside, et cetera- and maybe even splurge for the front-of-the line passes so those days will be really fun, even if they're a tad pricey

2.  I kept telling myself that I would start feeling (physically) better by summer.  I don't.  Son-of-a..... Ryan is convinced that I have lupus, and I'm pretty sure he's right.

3.  Along with #2, people with lupus have a higher risk of miscarriage, so:
A.  If I'd have known I possibly had lupus before (and there WERE signs), is there something I could've done to help my baby Taylor? and
B.  I'm not getting pregnant, or trying to, ever again, if it means my chance of not having a baby is higher.  I can't do it.  I am in awe of those who have gone through it more than once.  I won't. and
C.  dealing will all the s**t that comes along with being sick enough to feel awful EVERY day, and with the emotional aspect of this all is taking a GIGANTIC toll on me.  I'm gonna have to see a dr.  But I'm scared.  And it's a let-down to know that even if I wanted to try for another baby (which I don't know about anymore), I'm not prepared to deal with doing so.

4.  Well...
I'm afraid this is going to sound superstitious and downright absurd, but it's been on my mind ever since last summer.  In 2009, J.J. died on August 15, my cousin died 2 weeks before that.  In 2010, I lost my baby on August 13, an old friend died 2 weeks after that.  I feel like there's this black cloud over my head and I'm really just paranoid as all get out that something awful is going to happen again at the end of the summer.  I mean, I'm not sitting around counting days til something bad happens, but it does cross my mind.  I can't take another terrible summer ending.  Like I said, it sounds paranoid, silly, so on...
I can't help it!

So my hopes and prayers are that I will spend this summer with my family doing fun things, feeling decent, and not worrying about how THIS August will go.

Wish me luck.

Missing in Action

Yeah...

It's been a LONG time since I've had anything to say here, much less anything really substantial.  I am not sure if that's good or bad.  Sometimes I think it is good, because maybe that means my focus is not so much on my loss, not so much on wanting people to feel sorry for me sometimes (just being honest), not so much on focusing on others who share the experience of losing.  But mostly it's bad because I am pretending.  Pretending that I'm ok, pretending nothing's wrong, pretending that the days up to the 9th weren't some of the most upsetting days of my life. 

That's why I'm back.

I can't just act like it's all good, like stuff's been fine and cool and I just don't care anymore and I'm not hurting still- because that's not the case at all.  I am still mad.  Mad at the why me's of this terrible experience.  There is still so much that is difficult to wrap my mind around.  Why did it take so long to get pregnant?  Why did it happen then?  How could something I honestly didn't think I wanted to happen have been so wonderful, so exciting, and honestly have given me some of the happiest and most content feelings that I remember having?  Ever.  Why didn't this baby stay?  Was he or she unhealthy or not?  Was it something I did?  (Rationale can tell me the answer to this question is no, but will I ever fully believe that?  Doubtful).  Was my baby a he or a she?  What would have he or she looked like?  Why do I have (almost) nothing tangible to remember this all by?  All I have are 4 ultrasound pictures (2 of which are after my precious baby was an angel), a few books and magazines, and the after-the-fact tributes which do help but still just aren't enough. 

But then there's the other side.

It wasn't all bad, you know.

I had a pregnancy that, honestly, I got to be happy and excited about.  I never thought I would have that experience.  Not that I was not happy or excited about Trent and Taryn or that they weren't wanted.  But it's different telling your mom when you're 17 (and newly single) that she's going to be a grandma vs. telling her when you're married and she's been harrassing you for years to have another baby.  It's way cool to tell the dad and not have him say some crap like, "If you are, I'd leave the country" (I know, right, WTF?)  I had never had an early ultrasound before, and having the ultrasound tech tell you that your baby is only HALF AN INCH big, and yet seeing a beating heart is one of the most AMAZING experiences ever.  And I got to have that, on my birthday, with my kiddos there.  That was one of the best days ever.

I guess there's good and bad with my due date coming and going, too.

First of all, that day wasn't really so bad. 

I think that sounds terrible.  I don't mean for it to.

But here's why:
The anticipation of that day was what was really, really hard.  Because I didn't know what to do, or think, or how to act, or what would be "right."  Was I supposed to be sad all day?  Was I supposed to be "over it?"  Would I want to hide away, cry, smile, be around others?  I drank the night before.  I didn't plan it that way, but Sparkles texted me after work and I figured, hey, why not.  I could use a drink.  After I got home, I knew Ryan was annoyed initially, but then it all clicked and he said he didn't know what to say or do, either.  He didn't know what was "expected" of him on my due date.  I think it's easy to forget that this is not just my loss.  Ryan lost a child, too.  It's different for him than for me but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter or that it's easy for him.  But then that day came.  Don't get me wrong, "not so bad" still means pretty shitty.  It was a sad day, I did feel bad.  But in some ways, it was put to rest a little.  I went to target and I ended up looking at baby stuff.  It didn't hurt me.  Those little things are just things.  Meant for sweet babies who deserve to be here with parents who deserve to have them.  I won't feel the joy (right now) of getting all those little things and having a baby who can use them, but it's ok.  My little baby had to go before I wanted him or her to, but it's going to be ok.  I wrote in my journal, which I had also neglected for a VERY long time.  I was definitely agitated that day, but I made it through. 

And that chapter is over.  Not that I won't think about it, or it doesn't matter.  But the torture of counting down and thinking about where I "should" be with the pregnancy is over. 

My baby is resting.  And we're ok.

I Think I'm Losing It

The closer it gets to my due date (2 weeks yesterday til the big day), the more I am not sure if I'm going to be able to handle that day.  First of all, I can't believe it has already gone by so fast! I go back to all those hopes and dreams of last summer when I first found out, and it is unbelievable to me that here I am now, and all those things I thought would happen, haven't.  I haven't told people at work that I'm expecting, we haven't excitedly anticipated the big day, we don't have a nursery, I haven't kept going walking with a big belly to show off and I didn't get attention from the old people at the mall about it.  I have started karate, and even sometimes it makes me mad that I am there and not sitting, uncomfortably, on the bleachers with my big tummy giving me problems. 
I also am starting to think more and more of what I am not going to have; just when I got to the point where I think I am starting to move beyond "what should have been" and "it's not fair," it hits me more and more that I should be welcoming a new baby VERY soon, and I'm not going to be.  I think it makes me very mad.  And very sad.

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.