Some things
I decided to have a memory necklace made. I don’t know exactly how it will look because we’re still discussing ideas but the jewelry designer asked me for the footprints in an email so she could get started. I choked up and couldn’t respond to her for several days.
I got out my memory box from the hospital and set it next to the computer and that was as much as I could handle. Clara looked through it a few times and yesterday she sat at the table with his closed box in front of her her and said, “Mommy, I’m glad I didn’t die. Cause if I did, Matthew would be alive and you would all be looking at my box instead.” Gah, I can’t believe my CHILDREN are aware of things like this. It’s such a big, big part of their lives, especially Clara, or she just lets on more than the others.
I picked up my camera for the first time in a few months the other day. I even edited some pictures in PS. I also went back to my old photography message board that I used to love so much. I saw a post about NILMDTS and the photographer was asking whether she should edit out the dead baby’s bruising before giving the parents the pictures. I was INCENSED when I read one photographer’s response. She said something along the lines of, “Death is such a sad thing, especially involving a baby. The parents shouldn’t have to be reminded of that every time they look at the pictures”.
Are you freaking KIDDING me? What an idiot; what do people think, that you FORGET your baby is dead and only when you look at a picture do you remember? I guess I’m still really angry because this still pisses me off just thinking about it. Where do people get off, thinking they can make our decisions involving OUR babies?
I think editing pictures for parents who want the blemishes removed so they can have a pretty picture to share is wonderful; what makes me crazy is ANYONE thinking they know better than we do what will make us feel better.
Now this brings me back to an issue I thought I “got over”. The funeral director kept Matthew’s body at the funeral home (in some sort of freezer) for a few days until the service. Knowing his body was only 20 mins. away from me at home, I was so agitated about whether I should or shouldn’t go see him and hold him one more time. When I worked up the courage to call and ask to come, the funeral director warned me that Matthew had “changed a lot” and that it wasn’t a good idea to come in.
I BELIEVED him and waited until the morning of the service to go in one last time for a lock of hair. I prepared myself to hold him with the blanket covering his face so I wouldn’t have to see anything that would upset me.
Well, when I arrived and carefully took him in my arms and looked away, afraid to see, the funeral director casually said, “Oh, he still looks great. It’s fine to still look at him”. I was so relieved that I could still look at him and hold his hands that it didn’t hit me for a while. He had been trying to protect me, thinking he knew better than me whether I should hold and see my own baby.
Now, I KNOW this man wasn’t evil, he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He thought he was doing me a favor maybe? But where do people get off, thinking they can make such huge decisions? This was HUGE. I could have gone every day to see and hold Matthew if I chose. He TOOK that from me and I can’t get it back. How dare he!
Matthew’s footprints. I do wish this was an actual birth certificate.
Dairy Cow
I have been vegan for about 12 years so seeing animals in confinement and used for meat/dairy has always bothered me. But tonight, dh and I were watching Amazing Race online and one of the challenges was the teams had to collect eggs, butter, milk, etc. One team member had to milk a cow and it showed the milking, getting kicked by the cow and each time, it would pan to the cow’s face, showing her close-up with her number in her ear. I burst into tears. I imagined what it was like for each cow to have her new baby taken from her shortly after birth, unable to feed her baby with the milk that is rightfully theirs. Now, *I* know that those babies are probably in veal crates but that mama cow must be bewildered… and I know she is grieving her baby. And I KNOW what that feels like, to lose my baby and still be full with milk.
Life has gone on, not surprisingly. I feel numb and empty these last few days. Like I. just. don’t. care. It’s almost pleasant; this hazy feeling. I can really look at these last 9 months and feel… nothing.
Except at night. After Matthew died, bedtime was my refuge. I slept solid all night, barely dreaming. These days, I lie in bed for hours, tossing and turning, replaying things in my mind. I cry big, openmouthed sobs into my pillow.
I feel like I’m losing my real-life friends too. After skipping a planned for homeschooling event, not returning emails and phone calls, I decided to just tell my few closest friends what had happened. I really downplayed it too, just not wanting to get into it, to make them feel like I was soliciting their sympathy. And now I feel so far from them. I feel like too much has happened that they will never understand… and I don’t have the desire to try to make them understand.
It’s over
I’ve already written the condensed version of my story on the loss board but I want to put everything I remember on here for myself. I have no pictures, no footprints so this is it. I do feel a little selfish writing out the blow by blow but I guess it’s ok. No one has to read this. It’s hard to say I’m writing for myself when I know full well than many other will be reading it too. But whatever…
Before the m/c, I was waiting and wishing to be able to say that it was over, the baby had passed and I could move on. Now (just like I always), I’m wishing I could go back and redo it. Redo a miscarriage, that sounds really sick… but my last connection with another baby inside has been broken.
This is probably going to take a few days to write. Dh is barely allowing me off the couch so I have to sneak it in when he’s asleep.
So, Tuesday, the u/s with no heartbeat. I had a missed m/c years ago so I just assumed that this would take several weeks to pass. Wednesday, I spent the day cleaning, finishing up laundry, scrubbing the bathtub and dusting. A sort of nesting for the upcoming event. I actually felt upbeat. I was looking forward to being done with pregnancy FOREVER, not ever having to go another day worrying over something that I had no control. That night, the bleeding turned period-like and my body emptied itself of everything. It felt very much like my normal early labors and I started to shake and panic. I emailed with a couple of loss mama friends to reassure myself that it would be ok, I would be ok. I was VERY worried over the size the baby would be. I still didn’t want to see a baby, didn’t want to hold another dead baby in my hands.
Moderate cramping overnight. When dh woke up early to get ready for work, I realized that I could very well end up alone at home having the baby. We live out in the country now and 70-90 mins. away from his work, 30 minutes from a rural hospital. I told him I wasn’t sure if he should go in but after some discussion, I decided to go back to bed and call him if things picked up. Later that morning, I woke up with heavy cramping and feeling “full”. My water broke as I climbed out of bed and I quickly decided that NO, I would not be flushing this baby down the toilet. I held a washcloth under myself just in case but it was just more water. I remember feeling shocked that I actually had enough water to break but in a strange way, it was also comforting that some of this “labor” felt normal.
Luckily, the kids were all asleep as I went downstairs. Our hot water heater will only fill half a bath so I filled a pot full of water on the stove and called dh at work. Still waiting for the water to boil so I called the midwives and asked them if it was ok that I wsa feeling major one-sided pain. She said it wsa fine and warned me that the baby would be big enough to fit in my hand. Oh, I didn’t want to hear that!
Finally, my water was boiling. I hobbled into the bathroom, moaning through the cramps and proceeded to dump the water into the bathtub… into the bathtub that I neglected to close the DRAIN on! I was nearly crying as I watched the water go down the drain. Damn!
Dh made it home in time to keep my bath hot and take care of the kids as they woke up. The cramps eased up so I laid around all day, doing little things around the house and waiting. I had Ziploc bags in each bathroom to catch the baby in. All laundry was clean and I was feeling less anxious about actually seeing the baby.
I got annoyed with dh at one point because he wsa trying to plan his work schedule. With his job, it’s very difficult for him to call in sick. In fact, he never does. So, he asked me a couple times when I thought it was going to happen, if he should call in a replacement for him at work or not. He was not being abrupt or annoyed with me but I felt so hurt that in the back of his mind, he wsa thinking about anything but me and this baby. I said a few quick prayers to have forgiveness and it didn’t end in a fight. I was actually able to verbalize my hurt feelings and frustration and he was able to explain where he was coming from. In the midst of all that, I remember feeling very grateful and almost happy that we weren’t getting into petty arguments and that we were still able to communicate.
Later that evening as we were watching a movie with the kids, the cramps started up again and I felt something moving *down*. I told dh I needed some water boiled and took my book into the bath. I felt strangely calm in there, putting my hair up, getting comfortable in the bath and reading my book. Dh brought me several pots of hot water and continually poked his head in there asking how I was doing. I wasn’t really afraid anymore. It seemed like I should have been really emotional and crying but I wasn’t. It felt like it was happening to someone else. Everything felt muted.
Hours went by in there and finally I felt like there was something *right there*. I checked myself and was stunned to feel tiny little legs and feet. I remember thinking they felt like Barbie feet. I called dh in and asked him if he thought I should push it out or just wait. I tried squatting but just couldn’t push it out so I actually read my book for another 15 minutes until finally, it came gushing out into the water.
There it was floating in the water, still attached to me. Almost transluscent skin, I could see everything was there that should be. Arms and legs just waving in the water. I felt so much relief, physical and emotional. I had done it, the pain was over and I hadn’t cracked after seeing another dead baby. Oh, the relief!
At this point, the bleeding started increasing, baby was still attached to me and the placenta wouldn’t come out. After about an hour of nothing, we called the midwives, who suggested abdominal massage and squatting. We tried this and the bleeding and clotting increased but I could still feel the placenta was attached inside. Dh cut the cord and laid the baby on a washcloth on the toilet. I remember casually inspecting the baby’s arms and legs while squatting and waiting for the darn placenta to come out. With her arms and legs stretched out, she was probably 5 or 6 inches long.
I finally saw something that I thought was probably the placenta so dh cleaned me up and I went to rest on the couch while he cleaned up the mess. I was thinking that when dh cleaned up the bathroom, I would go in and take a couple of pictures, maybe find a way to get a couple of footprints before we buried her the next morning. After eating something, I felt really strong cramps start up and went back to the bathroom for another bath. I figured maybe the rest of the placenta was coming out.
We were in the bathroom maybe for another hour. The bleeding increased, with a few very large clots. The water was so dark with blood. We kept emptying it and refilling it with fresh water. I picked up the clots and tried to figure out if they were placenta or not. I suppose at this point, I should have realized that there was too much blood. But I had had THREE successful homebirths, one unassisted. I just couldn’t believe that my body actually needed help expelling a placenta that small. I mean, how hard could that be?
I started feeling cold and sweaty. I told dh I felt “weird” and needed to lie down. I tried to get out of the bath and fainted. I could hear dh asking me if I was ok over and over. I mumbled that I was ok but I needed to go to the hospital right away. He leaned over me and asked, “Do you need an ambulance? It will take 30-40 minutes to get to the hospital in the rain. Can you wait that long?” He rushed in and out of the bathroom, gathering clothes for me and warming his truck up. We were still hoping to get through this m/c without the kids knowing so dh left Christopher in charge of the younger ones, with strict instructions not to go in the bathroom. He told them that Mommy had a really bad flu. So we left with the baby hidden in the bathroom and my mom on her way to take over. My mom also hadn’t known that I was pregnant so dh had to give her the quick story as we left the house.
The drive was so long and I cursed us for having moved that far away from everything.
At the hospital, the nurses were so sympathetic and kept telling me they were “so sorry” for my loss and I had to remind myself what I was doing there… because I didn’t feel sad. The ultrasound showed some retained placenta and the doc advised us to go home and wait for the rest of it. By then, the bleeding had gone down quite a bit so after 12 hours, we went back home.
I felt mortified coming in and facing my mom, knowing that she must have been worried sick. I thought maybe my decision to try to “protect” everyone around me was not the best, for them *or* me.
Later that night, my mom went back home, dh and the kids were asleep, I snuck downstairs to see the baby where dh had hidden her but unfortunately by then, she was changed. I couldn’t make out the individual toes and fingers like I could before so I quickly wrapped her back up to wait for the backyard burial. I was devastated that night. It was too late for pictures or footprints. The only memories I had were blurry; touching her tiny parts while squatting in the bloody bathtub.
The next three days were fairly uneventful. I had heavy cramping that came and went but we just assumed that it would be over after a few more placenta pieces came out. On the third night, I felt a big gush between my legs. Once again asked dh to boil some water for a bath. It quickly turned into a repeat of the previous night; heavy bleeding, large clots, dizziness. Dh had no patience for waiting around this time so we left for the hospital.
At the ER, the doc (luckily) didn’t want to give me a D&C so during a most uncomfortable pelvic, he suctioned the blood and removed several (totally TMI but these were like the size of large pieces of meat) placenta pieces and blood clots. I cried and cried during this; because it hurt and because the equipment he was using was what I assumed would be used for an abortion. I looked over at dh during this and he looked terrified and panicked. I was thinking, “Great! Now you’ll NEVER agree to have another baby”.
After this, the blood test came up at half the normal number and the doc told me I would need blood transfusions. I was so emotional about it that I think he thought I was Jehovah’s Witness because he said, “Well, if you have a religious objection…” I didn’t know what a blood transfusion entailed so I was surprised and relieved to see that it would just be hung up in place of my fluids and go into the IV I already had set up. Something about the way it was packaged looked like they had bought it half price at Winco. I gagged every time I looked at it.
I was wheeled from the ER to the maternity wing after the transfusion started. That smell of new babies hit me when the birth center door was opened. It smelled like Matthew! After I was situated in my new bed, the sweet nurse had to ask me for my information.
“Had I ever had a baby at this hospital before?”
“Yes, just my baby that had… ” sob sob
“Have I ever had surgery?”
“Just my cesarean” Oh my God, this was real, I was really here. I had a baby that died and I was here because another baby died.
“And here’s your call button. You can call me if you need anything.”
The call button really set me off. All of a sudden, I could smell Matthew, see him, feel his 4.5 lb weight in my arms. I used that button to ask the nurses to bring him from the morgue, to take him back to the morgue. I just couldn’t believe I was here again! What if I pressed the call button and asked for my baby back? What if I went crazy?
Well, I didn’t go crazy. I made it through the hospital stay and returned home again. Not sure the kids believe I’m still recovering the flu.
The ob said it will take 2-3 months to recover from the blood loss. I wish dh hadn’t been in the room when she said that because he is seriously watching every move I make. He accuses me of having “labored breathing” and insists I lie on the couch most of the day. He will suddenly turn to me and say, “You scared the HELL out of me! Don’t ever do that to me again.” He watched me breathe at night the first few days and stuck the flashlight between my legs while I slept to make sure I was’t hemorrhaging. I’ve never seen him so worried or so caretaking. I don’t blame him for being this way. I’m just concerned that he will never get these images out of his head and refuse to try again.
So, there it is. I don’t have to be afraid that I will forget everything that happened anymore now that I’ve written it down.
no heartbeat
it seems i’ve been expecting this the entire pregnancy. “no cardiac activity”, “fetal demise”. her words were so formal and cold. i was praying all the way to the office, please, just don’t tell me you’re sorry. people have been telling me they’re sorry for so many months now, i just don’t want to hear sorry every again.
one of the shittiest things about this is i have no real support this time. i didn’t TELL anyone and now i have no one to call. i’m so lonely tonight. my kids never knew and now i have to fake it. i am trying to figure out how to have a miscarriage at home with them not finding out. i thought i was being so careful and practical this time but now i feel like i have painted myself into a corner. i REFUSE to make them deal with this kind of loss again.
and the pain, i’m so scared to feel the physical pain again. i briefly considered a d&c but that scares me too. i wish i wasn’t so scared of everything. i feel so trapped with no way out of this. i wish i could just wake up and have the baby gone. i prayed SO HARD to have an early miscarriage if i had to have one. but 14 weeks? WTF?
i realized tonight that i don’t think this baby felt one tiny bit of love from me, not one bit. i didn’t allow myself to love this baby. i can’t count the number of times i thought that i didn’t care, i wouldn’t let myself care. i even WISHED a miscarriage on myself when i realized what i got myself into. i even asked mymidwives if i could just flush the toilet if i were to pass anything. what kind of person does that?
and it was a GIRL. clara would have loved a sister so much.
15 weeks today. had mw appt at 14 wks and they couldn’t find the heartbeat but they heard “reassuring” placental sounds, blah blah blah. so i decided to just wait and hope. i don’t want another ultrasound. so this evening i had some brown spotting. this can’t be anything good. i mean, i still gag every morning and i’m exhausted but that doesn’t mean anything at this point, i don’t think. if the baby died at say 13 weeks, then wouldn’t i still have heartburn because i still have all that extra weight in there? i just don’t know. i’m trying not to care.
after the kids went to sleep, i ran to the store to get pads and tylenol. our water heater sucks and usually will only fill up half a bath so i had dh turn the temp all the way up in case i need a bath tonight. all practical things considered.
so far, i don’t feel too sad. i feel detached, which is a relief. i asked one of my midwives if i could just flush the toilet if i pass anything and she said if i needed to, then that would be fine.
i am SO glad that i haven’t told most irl friends and no family, so glad.
Just Breathe
Oh my gosh, the first time I heard this song, I was sitting alone in a parking lot, eating a quick dinner in my car. This was the night that I started bleeding at my mom’s house; and here I was buying the kids’ Christmas gifts in a daze, trying to pretend that I wasn’t worried at all, trying to not want this baby. This song came on and the lyrics just dumbfounded me. It seemed to have been written for Matthew and for this new little baby. I sobbed while I ate. I cried because I wanted this baby, and I cried because I wanted Matthew back. It’s a strange feeling to know that if Matthew had been born, I wouldn’t have this new little life growing inside of me. I start feeling guilty if I think about it too long.
Yes, I understand that every life must end
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go
Oh I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands the ones I love
Some folks just have one, yeah, others, they’ve got none
Stay with me…
Let’s just breathe…
Practiced all my sins, never gonna let me win
Under everything, just another human being
I don’t wanna hurt, there’s so much in this world to make me believe
Stay with me…
You’re all I see…
Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t I’m a fool, you see
No one knows this more than me
As I come clean…
I wonder everyday, as I look upon your face
Everything you gave
And nothing you would save, oh no
Nothing you would take
Everything you gave…
Did I say that I need you?
Oh, did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t I’m a fool you see
No one knows this more than me
And I come clean, ah…
Nothing you would take
Everything you gave
Hold me til I die
Meet you on the other side
At about 12 1/2 weeks now, I feel my exhaustion and nausea starting to fade a little. Not enough to make me worry that this baby has died; just enough that I feel as if I’ve woken up after sleeping for 3 months. I think I must have been numb the last several weeks. I suddenly avoided Matthew’s pictures, didn’t want to say his name or hear anyone else say it. I almost felt like I didn’t care about him anymore. I was too ashamed to admit this on the loss boards and I certainly wasn’t going to write that here on my blog when everyone else seems to be grieving more appropriately.
Well, today I was vacuuming the living room, and when I bent over to pick something up under the couch, this dark wave of grief just hit me and I suddenly started crying, remembering Matthew’s scent and how soft he was. I just wanted him, just wanted to hold him once more. Actually, I started thinking that I wanted him instead of this new baby… and what am I supposed to do with a thought like that? So now, if this baby dies too, I will remember the day I wished it and then that will be my fault too. I’m just so sad. It’s just too unbearably sad. I can’t even believe that all of this actually happened to me.
Finally, I’m sorry for not posting on everyone else’s blog for a while now. This WordPress is really screwing up my posting lately. I keep getting these errors every time I try to write something. But be assured that I am reading still, and thinking of you all.
Sorry for not updating for so long. I bled for 10 days, it’s now stopped and I’m still pregnant. One of the blogs I follow recently wrote that she should never think at 4AM. Well, I think I’m going to have to learn to never write a blog post at 4AM either. I’ve given up the computer during the day a few weeks ago too so I’m just not on here very much. Hope to post more positive things when I’m not feeling so exhausted and nauseous.
:(
I’m pretty sure I’m having a miscarriage. I’m 9w3d today. I have been feeling pretty confident, SO sick and SO tired, there was no denying that I was still pregnant with how horrible I’ve felt. Couple nights ago at my mom’s, my urine was tinged darker, almost brown, again last night. Now, I’ve gotten out of bed really early with cramps and the pad I put on last night is streaked between brown and pink. I just KNOW it, I know it. I didn’t feel waves of nausea getting out of bed and my heartburn is gone. How could it have happened so fast?
I will selfishly admit that right now, my first concern is pain. I’m so scared of it. I had a miscarriage at 14 weeks years before Matthew died (the baby had actually died about 10 weeks) and it hurt like hell. It seriously felt like hours and hours of labor, without the pushing part. I’m so scared of that. I’m assuming that this baby died just a couple of days ago so I’m so afraid that it will hurt.
I prayed so hard to God to please give me an early miscarriage if I was going to have one! I feel like I’ve been strung along *just* long enough. But then again, I also prayed to have a miscarriage instead of another stillbirth, so I suppose I should be grateful for that.
I’ve been lying in bed thinking to myself, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. This is a period, just a period, period, period, period,” but then why am I crying so hard? I mostly refrained from getting attached to this baby. I know I was supposed to cherish this baby even more and get attached right from the get-go but you know what, screw that! I will be in denial if I want!!!!!
I wanted to post this on my message board to the PAL mamas but I just know they will only be so glad that they are not me and just hold their bellies even tighter. DAMNITALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!
Please God just let it be blood. I DO NOT WANT to see another dead baby. Oh please please please.
Please let it happen quick so the kids don’t have to know.
I wish I didn’t have so much to do today. I was supposed to do my last Christmas shopping today and meet with the kids’ ES to drop off their learning samples.
And why do I keep picturing Matthew’s face????????? fuck the whole goddamn world, why is this happening????????????????????????
So…
I’m pregnant again. Just like that. Dh was adamant about waiting the six months the midwives advised (due to the c-section) but as time got closer, he stopped asking about my fertility and I couldn’t bring myself to suggest we use protection. It’s not that I wanted to get pregnant this soon; it was just that to *avoid* it felt so wrong. I knew we would be pregnant again. I just wanted to lose all the baby weight, I just wanted to get through some more grieving milestones, I just I just I just…
I’ve followed several Pregnant After Loss moms on my message board and on blogs. I would bite my nails and hold my breath through their updates and sigh a deep sigh of relief to see their babies arrive safely. Well of COURSE their babies arrived safely. How could they not? Now that I’m on the other side of the fence, I feel terrified. I don’t WANT people to worry that this baby will die, whisper to each other “She’s doing it again. Wouldn’t that be a shame if…?” I don’t want people to watch me in fear and just pretend to have faith that this time, I will have a living, breathing baby. When I start thinking these ugly thoughts, I feel like saying to the Universe, “Oops, I changed my mind. I don’t really want to be pregnant yet. Can we just keep this same baby and save it for a few more months?”
I also feel this tremendous guilt that all of my loss mama friends aren’t pregnant right now too. I want them to have their rainbow babies too and I selfishly don’t feel safe without them traveling this road with me. I have been through so much with them. It was almost like our little club met in a red tent of sorts, the Dead Baby Red Tent. It was dark and sad in there but we were *together*, offering each other words or just our mere presence as comfort. I feel like someone opened the flap of the tent and shoved me out into the elements… alone.
I hate to sound ungrateful too. And I hate that I CARE that someone might read this and think that I’m ungrateful. Why can’t I just say what I want and not care?
The truth is I love this baby already and I’m already imagining my life with him/her and I’m scared to lose again. I want this little baby to stick around this time.
Matthew's name in the sand on a beach in Australia
