5 posts tagged “loss”
I have a few blogs that I read daily. It's like they are my friends and their blogs keep me informed. One recent post on one of the blogs asked for the readers to visit or pray for another in the blogging community. She had just lost her twin boys around the middle of her pregnancy. I have no clue the exact reasons but my heart went out to her and I emailed her my story, just to let her know she was not alone.
She wrote a very painful and raw post on Mother's day which got me thinking. I've been meaning to write something like this for a while but it's hard to put into words, so you'll have to bear with me when I ramble.
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When a mother, a family, loses a child no matter what age it hurts, hurts like hell. But you know, as cliche as this is, it will get better. Having losses in 2000, 2001, 2004 and 2006 I know a little on the subject. For those just joining or just finding me, the babies in 2000 and 2006 were early miscarriages which happened on their own; the 2001 child was our first daughter, Avery and in 2004 our son Jackson. Both stillborn at 26 weeks.
But, back to what I was saying. It'll get better. It still hurts and I still cry but it's not as raw. It's not burning like salt on a wound, it's not uncontrolled sobbing much anymore and the anger is not as deep. I do not want you to think that I am happy every day, I do not want you to think that I never think of my babies, nor do I want you to think that I don't care. But it's DIFFERENT than it was in the early 2000's...hell, even just a few years ago. I think of my angels every single day, I'm even fighting tears as I write this. But now, after these hard and excruciating years, it's a different cry. You will forever miss your child, whether they were miscarriages that you didn't get to meet, stillborns that were already gone, children you got to have in your life for longer or even older children. There's one thing...parent's should never have to bury THIER children. I still get mad that I had to pick out two headstones, but I got to do something that I bet you never have, I've got to hold not one angel, but two!
God did not give you this child and take him/her from you to teach you a lesson, to be mean. God has our children because they were destined for something better. Now, go ahead and disagree with me because NO I do not intend to know exactly what God does and why, but I do know that without these angels in my life I wouldn't know some people I do today. Think about how often you hear now of someone losing a child? People are more open about it now and it's wonderful, for a sad reason. Avery and Jackson have brought some awesome people in my life, have allowed me to really truly and honestly know what someone is going through when they lose a child, have given me the ability to share my story to hopefully help other families in this situation and have also let me come closer to God. I got to hold his angels, I got to carry his angels and I helped grow some of his angels.
Now, again, don't get me wrong, I hated Him for a while, but I now understand a little more and realize that even with all this shitty pain, depression, anxiety, taking my fears out on Kenna and everything else that has changed in me since my first loss, I'M FRICKIN' SPECIAL! My babies have some really great other kids to play with up There...I have angels to watch over me all the time.
In all my rambling I hope this makes sense. If you've had a miscarriage and didn't know the sex of the child you carried, still, give him/her a name. It'll make it easier, even if it's a nickname. Cherish and always think of the time you did have with your child, no matter when they passed. I promise, it will get better, easier in some way on each angelversary. You will still cry, you will still be mad, you will still laugh then be mad at yourself for laughing, but it's ok. Smile because you got to hold an angel....in your arms or your womb and your HEART!
I ask you this, my awesome readers...Have you held an angel, 'cause I have!
Ah, today is one of those days that I dread; that all parents who lose a child dread...the anniversary of death/birthday/angelversary. My son, Jackson William (JW), would be 3 today if he were born in my arms and not right to heaven.
This day used to suck; me spending all day in bed, me spending all day crying, and me thinking all day of JW. But you know, it doesn't hurt as much anymore. I still miss him and it still is a sad day, but it's not as raw anymore. I know he's with me, I know he's with his sister and it's easier.
Please send up a little prayer for my son, today on his 3rd birthday.
I have a friend. Yes, I, have a friend. Anyway...we've been dear friends since high school. Poor girl was "the new girl" shortly after I carried that horrific name as well. I knew where she was coming from, I knew we would become friends and we did! We did some of the usual fun stuff together; going to a nearby town to go shopping, draggin' Main, jammin' to music in her old car (and I say old in a nice way, not old like beat up, but old like almost antique, it rocked!), getting way too shit faced during one New Years (we were underage). After high school, we were still friends. We did some of the usual fun college stuff together too; living together for a bit, working together at the grocery store and I'm sure we drank too!
Along the way we grew up and parted ways, all my fault. I suck at keeping phone numbers. She would track me down and we'd gab. I'd hang up smiling wondering why the hell I misplaced her number and reminding myself that I needed to call more often.
After a bit she moved to Oklahoma, I was married had a few angel babies and finally Kenna came. She too got preggers and had TWINS 2 1/2-ish years ago. It was amazing to me that she'd do the whole pregnancy thing, I forgot to add that she only has one kidney and has had all kinds of health issues. But here she was, pregnant with a boy and a girl. I saw them a few times and thought to myself only Melissa would have two gorgeous curly headed babies. Ashton and Zeaui; A to Z; Alpha to Omega; beginning to end.
In July I got a few calls from her and her mother. I was worried because they left messages on my cell, I never turn the damn thing on and when I finally did one day I had 3 or 4 messages where I could tell they tried to be calm. It's never a good thing when your friends MOTHER calls you, KWIM?
I thought maybe she's sick, maybe a baby is sick, but I'm sure all is well. I called her back ASAP. All wasn't well. Zeaui had passed away on July 3rd. My heart sank, I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't NOT cry. I didn't even talk to her while on the phone. I said something stupid and listened to her for a few moments then told her I'd call her later 'cause I had to go. I couldn't talk to my friend.
This is where my pain comes in...I didn't know what to say to her. You may think that's no big deal, but if I can't come up with something to say who the fuck can? I'v been through losses of babies; no I didn't know any of my babies for 2 1/2 years, that was the difference. I couldn't say it would be ok; it won't. I couldn't say I understood; I don't entirely. I couldn't say ANYTHING. Do you know what type of pain that entails? I've been the one that she would come to, during high school and early college, and I like to think that I helped her then. I like to think that I'm good at letting someone talk and maybe throwing out a few words of wisdom; this time there were none.
I called Vette and bawled...sobbed...hiccupped...I called Mom and bawled...sobbed...hiccupped...I called Sis and bawled...sobbed...hiccupped. I didn't sleep for a few days and was nauseated. I finally emailed her exactly what I was feeling, making me feel better but hoping it would make her feel better too, knowing she's not alone!
Please, please say a little prayer for her, her husband and her son. Let her know she's not alone, that people WILL remember Zeaui and smile when we see a picture of her or hear stories about her. Please let her know that people say stupid things (even friends). And please let her know that it won't be OK, but it will get better, eventually.
I should change the name of my blog. Yes, I'm screwed up, but no I'm not happy about it. For some reason I'm at a loss for words for this entry. Maybe it's because I have a killer headache, maybe it's because I've cried since about 1:30 today, maybe it's just because if I blog about it it will become more real.
I got some news today from my doc, and I'm sure you all can tell it is not good news at all. Basically we know something is wrong with me, but we can't find it. The tests for the problems that are fixable all came back negative. So, the doc ran more tests today. But the shitty thing about the tests ran today is this; THESE ISSUES AREN'T FIXABLE. Even if they come back positive and we finally know what's wrong with me, you can't take a pill for them, you can't just be watched closely, so basically I'm screwed.
Then she (the doc) hits me with numbers. Now, remember I'm an accounting major, numbers are MY thing, but these numbers scare me this time. 45% chance if I do get pregnant again it will end in a stillborn or loss of some sort...20% chance that if I do get pregnant I'll be the one dying. Yeah...a 20% chance of me not making it through the pregnancy...and almost 50% of the baby not. The doc then told me that if she were my husband, she wouldn't let me get pregnant again. If we did decide we want to do this, she refuses to be my doc because "she does not want to see me die". She doesn't even recommend surrogacy. So, as much as I hate to say it, the baby factory is closed for us.
We have our one beautiful and sometimes moody daughter and I'm so thankful for her. Why God chose to let me have her and not our others I will never know. What I do know is that I'm lucky to have her, even when she has a toddler melt-down, I'm still lucky. She keeps saying that when she "grows big" she's going to be a sister, man how I want to give her that. I've googled ('cause Google is my second husband) an adoption agency. I dunno about you all, but I don’t have $25K lying around. I guess it’s possible to get it. And I’m ok with waiting for years to get our baby, I think. I’m not sure if I’m ready for the “frustration” of adoption, you never hear really good things about it. People always spend a fortune of time and money, then they finally get the baby and something happens and the birth mother takes the baby back, I’m not sure if I can handle that disappointment again.
I guess we have a lot to think about, a lot to research and a lot to discuss. I have more grieving, more crying and more screaming to do before we really decide something, but you all know how impatient I am…guess I’ll have to get over it and just learn to wait for a while longer.
I can’t help but feel sorry for myself, have me a little pity party complete with hats and kegs of beer, but then Kenna comes walking in the room and all I can do is smile and cry. I’m so pissed at pregnant people….while cute and adorable; they piss me off because I’m not one of them and won’t ever be again. I’m angry because someone is telling me that I CAN’T DO SOMETHING…hello that just makes it worse. I’m tired of well-meaning people who keep saying that we can adopt because there are plenty of babies out there that need our love, it’s true, but I don’t want to hear that now. It’s just like when we lost Avery and Jackson, no one knows what to say. I’ll get to a point where it’s kind of funny in a sad way, but right now it just pisses me off more. I’ve just had my fertility taken from me, cry with me, get pissed with me, grieve with me, but God damn, don’t tell me it’s all for a reason but we just don’t know it yet. I’m only 27 years old, I should be in the “prime of my life”, I should be having babies left and right, but I can’t. To sum it up, it’s not fair. And I don’t want to hear about me saying that either…it’s my right to feel that way right now and I’m going to. It’ll take me some time to work through this, it always does, and I’ll bounce back. Just give me time…
Time...time...what else can I say. We have to measure time by something...minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, etc...but I really think we are all slaves to clocks, watches and calendars. Let me explain my thinking this way...
When we are trying to conceive a baby it's measured in days and temperature. You take your temperature every morning hoping for a little change...sometimes not even .02 of a degree...and cycle days, CD 1 is when Flo shows...ovulation day if you're lucky is CD 14...then we go to days past ovulation or DPO...the magic number of DPO's is 14...ooooh, then you can pee on a stick. If you've succeeded then YIPEEEEEE...time starts all over for you but in weeks now. "How far along are you?", "I'm 12 weeks". The people who haven't been pregnant recently will then ask, "OK, but how many MONTHS is that?” I think people forget that pregnancy is REALLY 10 months, not the 9 months that they teach you in high school health class. It's a joke really, the trick you into thinking that pregnancy is 9 months and somehow sneak an extra month in there. Then you get closer to that magical time of your due date, you get anxious and every week you go to the doctor they check you then you're hoping for 10 and 100%. You finally get to that point and then you push for 10 seconds (if you can make it that long!). Baby is out and then you care about pounds, ounces and inches for length, if you're anal like I am then you also long to hear those Apgar numbers. Take the bundle of joy home in the next day or two and then you care about ounces again...and hours; "when was the last feeding", "how much did the baby eat", "how many poopie/wet diapies did the little one have", etc. Complete strangers will then ask you, "awwww, how old is he/she?” Again, back to months, and you will count your child’s age in months until you can't think off the top of your head what 4 x 12 is to figure out that your 4 year old child is 48 months. The math becomes too hard at that point and you then finally resort to years. When they get older 1/2's and 3/4's come into play...trying to eeeeek out just a bit more time before their birthday. Then when your beloved child gets older (I'm hoping age 33 for Kenna) they too will start caring about the mundane little numbers of life.
So you see...time is very important to us. Time dulls some pain, physical and mental. A while after having a child you forget how horrible that pain really is, even with an epidural. You forget that it feels like your hoo hoo will split in half and spew forth a child from your "portal" (which is also a drink holder in my family!). My cousin so eloquently put it that "she needed to take a big shit of life". But when you hold the baby and that baby coos at you and smiles at you, you forget that hurt and you stupidly want to do it again. Time also dulls that mental pain of losing a child. You will never forget the child, you will never "get over" losing the child, but somehow it starts to hurt less. You still cry for the child, you still long for the child and you still feel empty, but it's not the hurt-so-bad-that-you-can't-breathe pain, it's not the hurt-so-bad-you-can't-see-the-light-anymore pain. It's different. It doesn't mean you don't love the child less now nor does it mean that you're ok with them being in heaven, it just means that time has lessened the pain, and that my dear friends is OK! That means you can finally look on the time you had with said child and smile. Even if you lost the child during pregnancy or when she was a high-schooler, you can remember the little things about them and smile and laugh.
Even though we are ruled by time, I guess it is still my friend.
