3 Months

The title really says it all. Today is 3 months to the day of giving birth to my sleeping Clarence. I don't know how I feel today. It's ONLY been 3 months? It feels like an eternity. It has ALREADY been three months? It feels like just yesterday. Those are the two extremes I go between. Today it is the "it feels like any eternity". I feel that way most of the time now I think. It feels so distant and surreal.

I spoke to an ex co-worker on the phone yesterday. She lost her daughter in her 23rd week to preterm labor. This was about 6 years ago. She was born breathing and lived a very short time. She was telling me how @ that particular hospital @ that particular time they didn't do anything for a baby born before 24 weeks. They couldn't I guess. So she had to hold her daughter and watch her die and they could do nothing to save or help her. I can't imagine that torment. I mean she was DAYS away from 24 weeks!! In the end though, she feels that maybe it was best it wasn't her decision to decided if to do something and how much to do. Seriously. Where do you draw that line? She feels now that maybe it was best left up to God. Still though, it is heart wrenching. My immediate thought is "I can't imagine that feeling of utter helplessness." I recognize now though that I have experienced that. I realize that although her situation was completely different from mine it was also the same. My helplessness just came@ a different point. I know some of you in DBL have experienced what she has and my heart just breaks for you.

It was helpful to talk with her though. To be able to discuss with someone IRL all of the feelings that go along with losing your baby was very validating. To hear those emotions in someone else's voice was moving. I don't know why I waited so long to call her. I guess I just had to be ready. She was sweet and understood it had to happen in my own time. So she offered a card and her number and waited. I clung to her card and number like a life line. I panicked when I thought I didn't know where it was. I am forever grateful to her for reaching out to me like that.

And on that note, I am so grateful to all of you who reach out to me through commenting on this blog. I love to read your blogs and will try to do better in the future about leaving comments on yours. I am realizing that even if someone doesn't know what to say, just to see them write "I am sorry" or "Hugs" lets me know that they empathize with me and that they are here, reading along. I am not alone.

Thank you, thank you , thank you.

I Will Never

I will never get to rock my baby to sleep.

I will never get to whisper I love you into his ear and have him hear me.

I will never hear my sweet baby's cry....or his laughter.

I will never get to give my baby his first bath.

I will never get to breast feed my baby.

I will never get to see him crawl or take his first steps.

I will never hear him say "mommy".

I will never brush his hair or clip his nails.

I will never be able to give my baby a massage.

I will never be able to buy those cute little boy clothes I see when I go shopping.

I will never see his eyes.

I will never feel his hand grasp my finger.

I will never see him open a Christmas gift.

I will never sing him "Happy Birthday".

I will never watch him hunt for Easter eggs.

I will never teach him to ride a bike.

I will never send him off for his first day of school.

There will always be someone missing from our family photos.

There will always be someone missing from our dinner table.

There is a piece of my heart that is gone.



Forever.



Fuck.

Window To My Soul

I was browsing DBL when I came across this blog entry by Niobe. I thought it was a really neat idea and I wanted to join in the fun. So here it is. These are my eyes. Well, one of them @ least. I'm not sure what color my eyes are. Is that funny? I've always said Blue. They have Gold around the pupil and sometimes look Green depending on what I wear. So does that make them Hazel? Hmmm.... What do you think?

*Edit to add* I have dry eyes so excuse the "hung over" appearance. They are always bloodshot! lol

Frozen

I can't pray. I just can't do it. I don't go to church, never have. I have always prayed though. I prayed all through my pregnancy with Clarence. Every single night. I want to. The words won't come. My lips are frozen.



I wonder if He listens anyhow.





He doesn't seem to.

To Dream Or Not To Dream?

Why don't I dream of you? I want to. I think? What does it mean that my subconscious won't let me see you in my dreams? Why won't you visit me? I want so badly to see you. To have a glimpse of what life would be like with you here. Or will that destroy me? Maybe I don't want to dream of you. I feel like I should though. I should be dreaming of you. So why aren't I? Where are you?

Knocked Down Naive

I debated p0sting this here. This is supposed to be a blog about Clarence and my life without him. But that is just it. This is my life, without him. Anything that happens to me now and forever for the rest of eternity is "Life Without Clarence", right? I mean, it is not like he is ever coming back.

So here it is. I got a BFP the other day. My first cycle since Clarence's death. My OB had told me to wait 2 or 3 cycles before TTC again so that my body would have time to heal and there would be less chance of a miscarriage with a future pregnancy. There is some debate in the medical community about if this is really necessary. When we went to meet with the perinatologist to discuss the pathology report from my placenta and the possible causes of Clarence's death this very subject came up. He thought that once my body had it's first cycle that was the go ahead to try again. So I chose to believe what I WANTED to hear. As far as I was concerned we were cleared to try again. I also chose to believe that nothing bad could happen again. Or, I'm not sure I so much chose to believe it as the other words of advice just went in one ear and out the next. Selective memory you might say. I mean, God and fate wouldn't be so cruel, right? Especially since I have a beautiful little girl already, proof that my body was capable of doing this all the way. The right way. So I went into this BFP completely optimistic and astounded @ how blessed I was to be pregnant again so quickly. Jokes began flying between me and my husband again about his super sperm. It is funny how the mind works, isn't it? How could I so quickly forget all the bad I had recently been through?

I woke up the morning of my first OB appointment and decided it would be a wonderful idea to take a pregnancy test. I was so eager to see those two beautiful pink lines again. No sooner had I finished peeing on the stick that I suddenly thought "what if it is negative?" Oh crap! Of course it would be positive, right? I already began to feel sick to my stomach. Three minutes passed and sure enough the line was barely there. I mean BARELY there. Great. I know. I know. It doesn't matter how dark the line is. A line is a line is a line is a line. Right. I know. But I also knew the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew it was over. Great. Lovely. Perfect. Now I had to sit and wait for the next 3 hours until my OB appointment.

At the OB the test came back negative and as I was talking to the midwife she looked down @ it again and started to see a line. Knocked down....given hope. They used my urine to dip another test. I got dressed (no sense in doing a PAP and first prenatal exam if I wasn't pregnant, right?) and met the midwife outside of the room by the lab. The 2ND test was negative. Knocked down. Whoosh! Kicked in the gut. This couldn't be happening. "This is supposed to be easy for you now after what you have been through" the midwife said. They drew some blood to do a beta test for pregnancy. I wouldn't get the results until the next day. For the second time in a row I left that OB office in despair. I am really starting to not like that place. Understatement. I HATE it. Liza, the midwife, promised to call in the morning with the results.

At this point I am thinking it was a chemical pregnancy. It suddenly smacks me in the face what I had conveniently chosen to forget. The OB said to wait 2 or 3 cycles for this very reason. You would think after losing Clarence I wouldn't be of the "this can't happen to me" mindset anymore. I learned one of the most humbling, horrifying lessons in just how invicible I wasn't. Instead, I had slipped right back into the mentality that I was. Damn!

Liza called the next morning and my beta came back @ 5. On the fence she said. I asked if she thought it could be a chemical pregnancy and she said she wasn't even thinking that yet, that hopefully it was still just too early. She wanted to repeat the beta the next day to check for doubling. Given hope. I rolled over in bed and attempted to go back to sleep. After tossing and turning for a little while I decided to get up. Knocked down. There was no longer any question. The bright red blood was evidence enough. Doubled over. Humbled again.

I should have stayed in bed with hope just a little bit longer. Damn.

The Life Of Clarence - Part II

This first picture is from my 8 week ultrasound. This is the day that it was first time we heard our baby's heart beat. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. It was also the day that it was discovered that I had a Subchorionic Hematoma. The baby was doing great though and I was assured that 9 times out of 10 these hematomas heal and cause no troubles. Getting out of the car @ home I stood up and had my first bleed. It was small and I attributed to the fact that I had just had a trans vaginal ultrasound and things were sensitive up there. If only it had been that simple.

These next ultrasound pictures were taken @ an ER in Charleston, West Virginia when I was about 10 1/2 weeks pregnant. We had been in town for my husbands high school reunion. After attending the reunion we went on a "date" to see the movie "A Righteous Kill". About half way through the film, I switched position in my chair and the flood gates released. A huge hemorrhage. We immediately left and went to the ER. After several LONG hours there we were able to see our baby and he was doing wonderfully. We had a little fighter! They saw the hematoma on the monitor and assured me that it would most likely resolve itself. So off we went, traumatized, but happy and proudly showed off our new pictures of our precious little one.

Chipping...I Mean Slipping...Away

So you are probably wondering why I posted a picture of my feet on my blog. Weird, I know. I was in the shower today and as I was shaving my legs, something hit me. I have not painted my toe nails since Clarence died. Yes, I know. That's a little obvious. You are thinking what is wrong with this chic? What that also means is that the polish on my toes has been there since I was pregnant with him. I remember when I painted them even. It was the weekend of my husbands class reunion. That night was the night I had my first hemorrhage. Because of this, because Clarence was still alive in me when I painted my toes, I can't bring myself to remove it. It is like it represents a part of him, a part of my pregnancy, my time with him...and I don't want to let it go. It doesn't make any sense at all. However, it makes perfect sense to me. It is like a little piece of him is chipping away every day, getting further and further from my memory. Sometimes he feels like a dream. If this crummy chipped polish represents all I have left of him, what will I have when it is gone?

Support Group

I didn't go. It meets once a month for 2 hours. I went last month and it was very helpful. I didn't feel like I needed to go this month. But yet, I feel guilty. Like this means I am forgetting him or something. I don't know. Now I feel awful and guilty for feeling so "OK" lately. I don't even know what else to write.....