Eight Million Pieces

The Final Piece

2010-10-02T00:24:00.004-06:00

Well, friends, I suppose it is time to acknowledge what is happening here. Or should I say, what is not happening here.

When I came to this space, I was still ringing with the pain of loss. Ever fibre and nerve in my body was vibrating with missing him. I ate, breathed, slept pain. It was everything.

I wrote here in order to skim off the worst of it and put it somewhere it could be contained and confined. Somewhere it couldn't hurt me anymore. Somewhere I could read a response that said "Yes, I know. It is terrible and unbelievable and unjust and I'm sorry".

When I came here, I didn't have real friends anymore. I couldn't. They didn't know. They couldn't help me. Some of them even hurt me.

Then I started to write here, and I made a place for me in the pain. Some of you came with me to that place, some of you were already there and shared a spot beside you. It was amazing to have that connection with people who I didn't know, but who I knew so intimately.

Thank you.

Today, my days are filled with the "why???" and "can I??" and "come play" of the three year old. My nights are broken with that exhausting, but all-too-soon-over cry of the hungry infant. And five long, troubled, joyous years have passed. I now vibrate with life instead of death.

To say that I don't need you anymore would be wrong. I do need you, but in a different way. It is enough now to know that you walked with me along this path of grief. It is enough now to know that you are out there walking still.

There is something satisfying about where I am now. I have a son who was born 2 years and 3 hours after his brother, barely missing a shared birthday. I have a daughter who was born exactly 6 years to the day after her oldest brother was conceived. We look to the future.

I know now how I will be living with this thing called grief. It sits lightly on my shoulders, always present but not always acknowledged. Today I can bear the weight of it.

Each year, I will walk in memory of my boy. Each time I do, I will light a candle for your babies, too. Know that I think of them.

I didn't think I would want to say goodbye, but I do.

Goodbye.

Thank you.

For Sale

2010-09-27T10:58:00.004-06:00

I am selling the baby things as they are outgrown. It hurts. I have always scoffed at the saccharine, emotional tears that moms shed when their children outgrow there things. Now, here I am, tearing up over every little item. We need to get rid of this stuff and we need the money that we will make by selling it. It is just so real. We are done having kids. That is such a loaded statement. I have no idea how to convey to you what that statement does to my soul. I guess I won't try.

So, in the spirit of selling things, does anyone need (or know someone who needs) a Doppler? I have one for sale. I would love to know that it would be helpful in giving another loss-Mama some peace of mind. Includes 2 extra tubes of gel, $85 Canadian, plus whatever the cost for shipping. Email me for details.

See? I can do it. I just don't have to like it.

What happened

2010-05-13T15:45:00.003-06:00

So here we are. I am done procreating. I am at the same time thrilled and saddened by that thought. It's bittersweet.

We were scheduled to be induced on May 1st. My water broke spontaneously around noon on April 30. So off we went to L&D, where nothing happened. I sat and knit for 4 hours. Then my OB decided that sitting around was silly, so started to augment with oxytocin. I slowly dilated. At around 9 or 10ish I got my epidural, which seemed to destroy the pattern and intensity of my contractions. So, they turned down the epidural (ouch) and turned up the oxytocin (double ouch). Around midnight, I was about 9 cm, then 9 1/2, then got stuck. The nurse thought the last bit would go faster, so I had my legs up in the stirrups for a long time. She kept asking if I had the urge to push, and I never did. I finally got fed up with waiting (it hurt!) and told her I wanted to push. After a couple of false starts, I pushed 3 times and she was out.

It wasn't all rosy. We couldn't track her heart rate with the external, so had to do an internal monitor on her scalp. Then, towards the end, she started to have decels (down to about 90 bpm) occasionally during contractions. The decels were infrequent, but scary. My husband tells me that the cord was around her neck when she was born (slipped off easily). She had to be suctioned and was a little quiet at first (no idea what her APGARS were, they didn't say...). Then all was perfect.

I am so happy. She is wonderful. It's been really easy, so far (as easy as life with a newborn could be, that is...).

People have asked me if it has been hard to go from one to two kids to care for. I haven't found it really hard. It takes more effort, obviously, and life is busier, but it hasn't been overwhelming. It was way more overwhelming to go from "mother of dead baby, caretaker of tombstone, waterer of memory garden" to "mother of live baby with needs". My expectations of what it would like to be a parent had to go through a major shift from the day I married my husband, to burying our first child, to bringing home our second. This change is SO minor in comparison to all that.

Also, I am having small struggles with all the "perfect family" comments. Boy and girl, one of each. Honestly, if C. had lived, and if we had BB subsequent to that, we would probably not have tried for a girl. I think both of us only ever wanted two kids, potentially only one kid, and three would never have been something we tried for. So, for us, if things had gone "perfectly", we would have two boys. Our family will never be "perfect". We can't call it perfection when one family member is gone forever. But, I will admit, it is as near to perfection as we can possibly hope for in the life we lead now.

So that's where I am today.

It's a girl!!

2010-05-03T11:54:00.001-06:00

Born May 1st, @ 2:22 a.m. Will post more soon. Sooooo tired. Sooooo happy.

Post 38w

2010-04-28T22:01:00.002-06:00

My OB stripped my membranes on Tuesday. I have had hours-long stretches of contractions here and there, but no real labour. Due to the small size of our L&D ward (3 beds), I have to wait until the weekend for the possibility of induction. Basically, there are people in line ahead of me and I have to wait my turn.

If it's your type of thing, please say a few prayers that I will go into labour ASAP. Though I don't actually like the idea of spontaneous labour, I would rather that than waiting much longer.

Today, this baby is the same gestational age as C. was. It's going to be a long day.

37 weeks, 3 days

2010-04-22T22:29:00.003-06:00

I don't like this gestational age. Why? Because we creep ever closer to 38 weeks, 3 days, which is my personal time-bomb. C. was okay right up to 38w2d. Before that, there was discussion of induction due to slightly odd BPPs. We didn't do it. He died.

Not that I am going crazy here. But there is still no firm plan. My OB is going to check me early next week. He said he would prefer to use prosteglandin, made mention of stripping membranes, doesn't want to push things. I hope to God that by the middle of next week we are either done or in the middle of labour. Next Wednesday is my personal scary day. Please don't make me wait....

I don't like the lack of firm plan, though I understand that my OB is just trying to gently nudge my body into labour instead of trying a cold start. I just wish I could comfort myself by saying "Only ___ more days, you can make it only ____ more days..."

On the other hand, the baby's blanket will not be ready in time. Each day more brings me closer to at least being half-done.

So ready for this to be over.

36 weeks, 3 days

2010-04-15T22:55:00.003-06:00

I woke this morning feeling wrong. At 4 a.m. I felt slightly nauseous, bloated, and had an off-and-on backache, with maybe 2-3 contractions per hour. It hasn't turned into anything, but I feel the type of pressure in my bottom parts that is reminiscent of how I remember dilation feeling. So I am confident that I am not in real labour, but that I might get lucky and go into real labour in the next week or so.

Please don't remind me that women can experience false labour and dilation for 3 weeks before going into real labour. I am trying hard not to remember that.

What is a little hard to separate is that my only experience with "natural" labour was with C. So I distrust my body. I am just very, very grateful that this baby is very active, and seems to move every time I get a little anxious. A very reassuring little baby.

I just don't like this end part.

36 weeks, 2 days

2010-04-14T13:37:00.003-06:00

So I didn't call the OB. I decided it was better to just not think about it. Deny, deny, deny. Besides, if the baby has already had some sort of massive brain bleed, what are we going to do about it? And, double besides, if there was something to be told, I trust our OB would tell us. I am choosing to believe that we have nothing to worry about. It is a conscious choice that I have to constantly work at, but so far I am maintaining sanity.

I went for my 36 week check yesterday. He did an internal. No dilation or effacement, but the cervix is softening. I hope that all of these heavy duty BH contractions I am having will get some dilation and effacement going on in the next 6 days, so that things will be ready to go by next checkup.

I don't feel like a uterus is a safe place for a baby, come 37 weeks gestation. Get 'em out.

We are still not ready at our house. To avoid the sleeping-in-a-laundry-basket scenario (where does the Angel*care monitor go in that??), we hope to be ready by the end of the weekend. Then if I had the baby on Monday (37 weeks exactly), life would be perfect. Perhaps I can do a lot of heavy lifting and cleaning in order to start a bunch of contractions....

And that's where I am.

P.S. Still working. One more week. Sigh. What a drag.

Go

2010-04-07T14:37:00.003-06:00

So, what would your response be if, by chance, you were looking at an ultrasound screen that was showing a picture of your 35 week baby's skull and brain and your OB said:

"What is the history of stroke or blood clots in your family?"

So freaking out a bit here. We tested negatively for clotting, etc. post-stillbirth, which is something of a relief, but the idea that the OB didn't really like what he saw is lingering with me.

Lingering in a bad way.

I didn't quiz him about it. I was a little too scared. I did tell him what I know, which isn't much. We actually don't have much history of stroke in our family.

At the end of the appointment he said that he was happy with how things were going and that he would start checking my cervix next week.

This can't be over soon enough.

Not that you probably care...

2010-04-02T11:41:00.002-06:00

...but I figured out a way to work around the evil HR and payroll trolls:

WORK WEEKENDS!!!

Sure, I don't get to see or spend time with my family, but I can bank the days and finish work a paid week early. I am brilliant.

(posted from work)

Musing, remembering, and planning

2010-03-31T15:52:00.003-06:00

Here we are, just past the 34 weeks mark. That means that in less than two weeks, this kid will be considered term. And by 38 weeks, I expect to be talking induction with the OB (assuming it doesn't happen at 37, etc.). We are in the home stretch.

Because of some stupidity in HR, I need to work to the end of 37 weeks or it will cost me extra $$$. I am displeased with that whole scenario, since I am a firm believer in the "if the baby is mature, then get it the heck out where it can't die for XYZ reason" philosophy. (blissfully ignoring all the ways a baby can die once it has been born... let's not talk about that, please).

I am surrounded by pregnant women and newborns in my circle of friends and acquaintances. I would guess that we are talking about 20-30 women who are pregnant or wrangling newborns. I know them from playgroup, which means the reason that we know each other is our kids. Which also means that the group spends a lot of time talking about pregnancy and childbirth.

It doesn't hurt the way it would have 3 years ago. Or even a year ago. I can quite contentedly sit by and listen to the naive things that they say. Like the classic I heard last week - "They wouldn't let me do a VBAC because they just like to cut". Ha, ha, ha, ha. Because a ripping uterus or placental abruption, etc. are things that we just shouldn't worry about. It is more important to give birth in a swimming pool with your husband chanting and feeding you granola.

However, I keep that opinion to myself. And in the process of keeping it to myself, and of doing this subsequent-subsequent pregnancy, I have learned something. I take a lot of pressure off of my brain when I think of a medicalized birth. If there are doctors and nurses and monitors and drugs involved, my brain thinks that things will be OK. It is good for me when I think things will be OK.

When I was expecting C, I wanted to deliver naturally in the hospital with no drugs, etc. I had my nice little typewritten birth plan all packed into my hospital bag. Next the the tennis balls in tube socks for pain relief. I would have hired a doula if there were such a thing in my town (there is now, btw). I was happy that the hospital had jet tubs that I could labour in. My biggest fear is that I might cave in and take drugs.

Then, when I showed up at the hospital in labour, 3 centimeters dilated and regular contractions, they told me my baby was already dead. For some reason, I stuck to the birth plan for a few hours - no drugs, tried the tub, etc. Really, that was quite silly. Then I took the drugs. I think this is when my perspective changed. Natural is bad. Babies can't trust my body to deliver them naturally. There has to be doctors and nurses and monitors and drugs. That's the only way to trust.

I think what scares me now is the idea that I could go into labour on my own. I don't like that idea. I want to have control over when this thing starts. I want drugs to start the process, I want someone to rupture my membranes for me, I want drugs to control the frequency and intensity of contractions, and I want my epidural. The only "natural" thing that I want is to deliver vaginally (because I have always recovered very quickly from vaginal delivery and I will have to chase a 3 year old...). But I have no fear of episiotomy - that's old hat, too.

Coming to realize that I don't trust my body and that I do trust medical interventions makes it a lot easier to sit through conversations about other people's views on this. I know why I don't trust my body. I know that I used to trust my body. I can see why other people might trust their bodies. I can even go so far as to understand why someone doesn't trust their doctor (um... maybe find one you can trust), even though I will always maintain that choosing to give birth without immediate access to an operating room is a poor choice. I can keep my mouth shut, and I don't feel like I am letting myself down.

2-4 more weeks. I hope time flies. God, I have a lot to do.

Good News

2010-03-23T22:00:00.000-06:00

Baby is no longer breech. Stay that way.

A misnomer

2010-03-22T15:35:00.002-06:00

I think they mis-named the illustrious "non-stress test". I find them quite stressful. We started them at 29 weeks, which is admittedly early to get a good trace, and I have been doing them weekly ever since. Today was week 33.

Last week almost resulted in a meltdown when it took almost 2 1/2 hours (plus 1/2 hour in the waiting room) to get the accelerations to show on the trace. The standard we are looking for is 5 accelerations that are 15 bpm above baseline. The baby was kicking like crazy, but no accelerations of more than 10 bpm. Cookies, orange juice, a walk, and a nurse moving the transducer around finally resulted in a total of 5 accelerations. By then, I was planning what I would need to pack when they hospitalized me and put me on bed rest for the next month or so (which they actually wouldn't do, but don't tell my anxiety-addled brain that...).

Today's NST was similar, but we managed to keep Baby awake long enough to get 5 accelerations to happen. I kept guzzling juice, eating cookies, and poking my belly. When you phrase it like that, it almost sounds fun.... It's not.

How 'bout this? I do most of my NSTs in the room where they told me C was dead. I often have to walk past the room where we sat waiting for them to tell us what they were going to do (and where I imagined they would do a c-section, resuscitate him, and leave us with one of the "almost" stories). The same nurses who cared for me 5 years ago care for me now. And it doesn't freak me out. I remember, each and every time. But I don't freak out. Thank god for 5 years.

Changing the subject, I can't sleep much any more. Hard on the pubic bone. I also have been fighting a cold for nearly 3 weeks, meaning I can't breath. My best option is usually to doze, propped up with pillows on the couch. That means that I am awake for the day at 6 a.m. and require a nap immediately following supper. Don't even ask how work is going - concentration is impossible when all I can think about is "when can I sleep again????".

Only a few more weeks. I expect either induction or c-section before the end of April. I would prefer to deliver vaginally, but the baby is not head down. Last u/s was breech, but I am thinking transverse is more what's happening now. We'll see what the OB says tomorrow.

Hoping to go for some BPPs, but don't remember when we started those last time? What's your experience?

And that's an update.

Get a grip

2010-03-05T13:37:00.003-06:00

I feel like I am clutching at sanity. Really all that has happened is that BB and my husband are sick, my mother came to visit (causing exhaustion for me and regression in behaviour and potty training in BB), I am behind at work, nothing is ready for the baby, and I can't sleep.

If I have Googled correctly, it seems I am experiencing symphysis pubis dysfunction. It has worsened in the last few days due to slipping a couple of times. Fun. I will mention to my OB next week and see if I can get a quick referral for physio (though at this point it seems somewhat futile, only 8-10 weeks to go...). I can barely walk in the morning. Getting out of bed is torture.

Baby is breech.

So I think what I need is sleep. However, I am not getting any. I have to pee or one of my men get up in the night with their colds or my pelvis is so painful that it wakes me.

My house is messy and needs a really good spring cleaning. And reorganizing (re: fitting in one more person).

Oh, and work has notified me of some unexpected financial burdens that will be coming our way. Good times.

Okay, off to think about my latest knitting project, which is terribly cute and coming together just perfectly.

I suppose you might not know me...

2010-02-26T16:07:00.002-06:00

...because we haven't really met. I am sorry about that, I really am. You only see snippets of me here. I don't really do memes and I don't write about things that are not grief related. Really, my policy for myself is to keep the blog very uni-dimensional, so that the whole anonymity thing can be maintained.

But here is something about me, something that make give me up entirely to those consumed with knowing my identity:

A radio host just said that Schubert's Trout Quintet was "not written for five fish" and I keep repeating it in my head and laughing out loud.

God, that's funny.

--------------------

Recent OB report: Baby is measuring a bit big, good blood flow in the heart and cord, starting to do weekly NSTs (because, why not?), he won't let me go past 38 weeks. All very good things, to my ears. I am working very hard to ignore hiccups as much as possible. My mental health is quite good on days when I get enough sleep. My physical is equally good, having an excellent massage therapist who is keeping all aches and pains at bay.

Now to actually make room in our house for another body. I am cleaning and purging and organizing my tail off. If the universe isn't going to comply and arrange for a larger house at an affordable price in the perfect neighbourhood, then I had better get things ready in this house.

Hiccups

2010-02-10T15:37:00.002-06:00

So the fetal hiccups have begun in earnest. Please don't make me explain why that is upsetting. I am sure I have blogged about it before, but am much too tired to look for the post. Here is my internal dialogue:

This is when they start. Sometimes hiccups are just hiccups. You have weeks to go before it is safe for baby to come. What are you going to do, start again with the charts and the timers? What if our great new OB thinks that I am a nut job for believing this whole hiccup hypothesis? What if I lose my mind over all of this and have to go on stress leave?

Yep. Fun times.

Remember, self, that fetal hiccups ARE normal. Even multiple episodes of hiccups CAN be normal.

Perhaps this is where the anxiety starts to ramp up. It was bound to happen. I was far too zen.

Obsession

2010-02-02T13:32:00.002-06:00

Well, in my previous pregnancy, my obsessions varied. Mostly they were related to all things baby. I shopped obsessively, I read blogs, I did insanely detailed hourly kick-counts, I read everything I could about prevention of stillbirth, etc. etc. etc.

This time, the obsession is houses. As in, a new house for us. I have struggled with this problem for quite a long time: our house is small and old and it would be expensive to renovate, but we like our neighbourhood. Also, we are in a sellers market.

So, these days, you will find me haunting the MLS website. And obsessing about whether or not we will find ourselves a new house that ticks all the boxes. Though it will be possible to stay in our house for quite some time, even with a new baby in the mix, I think it is the right financial choice for our family to invest in something more suitable.

My other obsession is food. More to the point, cooking. I went through a cake obsession during birthday week (for obvious reasons), now have moved on to breads. I tried a risotto, but didn't have the right ingredients. BB wouldn't eat it. I threw out the leftovers.

Are you obsessing about anything these days??

"They"

2010-01-21T16:06:00.004-06:00

"They" say it takes five years. You know, they might be right? Sometimes "they" know what they are talking about.

Five years. Holy crap.

We made it through. It was okay. We had our family day and ate cake in C's honour. We made our annual trip to the cemetery and didn't have to deal with sub-Arctic weather. It was almost a good day.

I should have posted on his actual birthday, but I was too damn tired. His birthday is smack in the middle of a week that begins with my birthday, is centered around his brother's birthday, and ends with his grandmother's birthday. It's a lot. I was tired.

I miss him. I am overwhelmed by the unfairness of his birthday celebration. I am almost angry when I think of our family photo of the day: sitting in a snow bank next to a granite memorial. I still ask "why". I don't ask so often anymore, but I still ask. Why him? Why me?

He was so beautiful.

Thoughts

2009-12-30T11:17:00.003-06:00

Though I have miles to go before actually panicking, I am paying attention to movement again, having daily/hourly swings between "Is this too much movement?" and "Why isn't there movement?" I don't expect much mental improvement on that front.

Our Christmas was good. Our annual trip to the cemetery was hard. It is always so bloody cold out there in these winter months, especially on Christmas and C's birthday. It is inevitable. We can never stay long, and I always feel guilty. I also narrowly avoided falling totally apart, which I don't feel at liberty to do on BB's Christmas morning. In so many ways, parenting C has become something that is increasingly impossible.

I cannot comprehend that C's fifth birthday is approaching. It makes my mind reel.

So much of my day is consumed by the tasks of running our household and other mundane concerns. I just don't really know how C fits into all of that anymore. I think of him every day, but in passing. There is part of me that misses that old familiar ache of dwelling on the loss of him.

Half Way

2009-12-22T21:29:00.002-06:00

We marked the beginning of week 20 yesterday, on the first official day of winter, the shortest day of the year. I don't know why that pleases me so much, but it does. Maybe a little magical thinking... as daylight increases, it brings us ever closer to the beauty that awaits us in the spring.

Winter is a time that means pregnancy to me. To know that this pregnancy should end when trees are budding and grass is green is almost confusing to me. A time of joy, instead of pain or fear. I am not sorry to have this new set of expectations.

As time draws us steadily nearer to C's fifth birthday, I can almost taste how much these years have changed me. I am not the person I was, nor am I the person I have been. I am different again. And I think it is good.

Obstetric Report

2009-12-04T10:20:00.003-06:00

Doesn't that sound official?

We had our first visit with our OB this week. It was great. He's from South Africa, so has a great accent and quirky sense of humour. He has this really white complexion and wild, curly black hair, so is kind of cartoonish in appearance. He made jokes and knew our history. I felt completely comfortable.

What was very new for us was the fact that this OB has an ultrasound machine he uses for each prenatal visit. Maybe you are from a larger city where this sort of thing is normal, so I'll tell you that it is NOT normal for our small city. In fact, our population is so small that we have had difficulty at times keeping OBs in town. When BB was born, there was only one OB in town, who was only on call every other week! We opted to deliver in a near-by larger city, just for that reason.

So to see an OB, with an ultrasound machine... well, it was my version of Nirvana. It was such a treat to have him show us everything as he went along, explaining everything - what he was looking for, what the implications were, how he thought it all looked "perfect". No dealing with a sullen tech, who gets irritated if you ask questions ("I can't answer that - only the radiologist can interpret the ultrasound!"). No waiting a week for the results to be faxed to my doctor and having to go in for an appointment to see her, inevitably waiting the extra hour she is running behind. It was bliss-tastic.

BB is really into the whole idea of us having a baby. I can't help but feel I am setting him up for the worst by letting him be excited, but I am forcing that sensation away each time I think of it. I want a normal pregnancy, the kind normal people have. The kind where older brothers can kiss bellies and sing songs to the baby and the Mommy just enjoys the early bonding without worrying about the worst. And I am almost there.

Whew

2009-11-17T12:58:00.002-06:00

Despite the ongoing cervical ache thing (still goes away when I sit or lay down. I am now speculating it may have something to do with how much is in my bowel at any given time... ewwww... ), all goes well.

I am now officially convinced that these are kicks and not intestinal gas. Keep on kicking, baby. 25 more weeks.

(P.S. Thank goodness I proofread this post. The original draft wasn't even intelligible).

I should know about counting chickens

2009-11-10T13:05:00.004-06:00

I was all set to write this post about how zen/fatalistic this all is for me right now. Then I had cervical pain yesterday. After I did a bunch of crazy arguing in my head, I decided I would regret not seeing my doctor.

I went in and she didn't really think it could be pain in my cervix. Maybe it was contractions. Maybe it was something else entirely. Now, I like my doctor. I like that she fit me in on her lunch hour. I think she is a nice lady. But I do know where my cervix is and I do know what it feels like when it hurts. I have given birth vaginally twice and I get the same type of pain every period. I will admit that I didn't know where my cervix was and what it felt like until after I had two babies and spent months of my life checking for fertility signs, including cervical position. But I sure as heck do know now.

So, what did I want from her anyway? Really, what I wanted was for her to check my cervix and tell me that it is still nice and long. Which she did.

I think she thought I wanted something more. Some guarantee that if they gave me Medication X and did Procedure Y that it would stop an impending disaster. I had no such desire. I know as well as anyone could that when things go to shit, there is not much anyone can do to stop it.

The ache in my cervix is positional. If I lay down, it almost instantly disappears. So this is my self-diagnoses, with no confirmation from either my doctor or even Google. I have a retroverted uterus; it tips towards my back. I think that when the uterus gets big and starts floating around in my abdomen, my reproductive tract reacts to the strain. You may remember the BH ctx that started in week 16 with BB. This time is is a cervical ache.

Anyway, I am not panicked. So maybe I am zen. But I really don't believe in complication free pregnancies, either, so maybe it just doesn't surprise me.

So I am supposed to take it easy. Lay down if I need to. Really easy to do when working and caring for a two year old... :)

By the way...

2009-11-07T22:38:00.002-06:00

...I am 14 weeks pregnant.

Excuse me for a moment

2009-10-16T14:06:00.004-06:00

Mostly I look and act normal. I work part time and do Mommy stuff the other part of my time. I pack my kid into his snowsuit, load him in the car, and do Mommy of Toddler activities.

EVERYONE I KNOW IS PREGNANT.

I am actually mostly okay with that. I mean, it sucks when there are 15 women in a room and the only topic of conversation is pregnancy. Because I can't contribute half of my experience without freaking out the dead-baby-neophytes in the room (what??? babies can die for no reason??? I can't believe it). So mostly I keep my mouth shut.

But there are certain things that really, really bother me. I wish that I was the belligerent type, storming through life cutting a swath with my opinion, but I am not. So I hear these things and I keep my opinion to myself. I try not to think of them and hope that people still like me, despite my silence on most-things-pregnancy.

RANT #1: I don't think home birth is safe. I won't ever think that home birth is safe. I don't care what statistics you wave at me, I don't care how natural it is, I don't care for how many centuries women did it, I DON'T THINK IT IS SAFE!!!!

You know what I think we should be doing, if hospital births aren't passing muster? I think we should be uniting with local women in our communities and approaching hospitals en masse and demanding changes. We should educate our health professionals as to the needs of the modern woman. We should burn diapers or IV bags (what would the bra equivalent be in this case???).

No, instead we take our ball and go home. Or in this case, pretend that we are super-invincible women, doing Mother Nature's She-ra thing, and that if we have our baby in an inflatable pool at home with our midwife that nothing can go wrong. The midwife has a Doppler, after all. And we are only a 1/2 hour from the hospital if something happens. Making sure that we focus on the low numbers of fetal and maternal deaths in recent history (ignoring, of course, that most of the births are happening in health care facilities).

What's so empowering about birthing in your house, away from the possibility of intervention to save your life or the life of your child? Why aren't we rallying to replicate that experience in a health care setting? Seriously, I don't think this is black and white and you have to choose home birth OR being drugged, C-sectioned and shown a bottle-fed baby in 3 days after you wake up. If you want to give birth with a midwife in an inflatable pool, with all your family watching, you should be able to do that in a health care facility with an OR down the hall and an OB on call. Why aren't we fighting for that option? What is the matter with us? Why do so many women prefer taking the risk of birthing at home?

RANT #2: I have no real understanding why the current practice is to allow women to carry their babies 10-14 days post due-date. Sure, I understand the floating, ball-park nature of due dates, but they aren't as much of an estimate as they once were. If a women is unsure of dates, she is normally sent for a (very accurate) early ultrasound. That should set a pretty firm date, shouldn't it? We have fairly reasonable methods to verify lung maturity when we reach the due date.

Now I know that induction has a bad reputation for being painful, etc. and I know it doesn't always work, and I know that using drugs can backfire. And I am not suggesting every woman have a C-sec on her due date. But 10-14 days seems like an awfully long time. Why not 5-7 days? And is it really about induction being more expensive than natural labour (more drugs, longer hospital stay for mom, etc.)? I don't have enough information, and I don't know anything for sure. All I can say is that EVERYONE I KNOW IS PREGNANT and all of them are going post-dates. And it scares the living crap out of me, every single time. Let's just check the stillbirth stats and see how what percentage of stillbirths happen post-dates.

I just want to say that the induction I had at 37 weeks with BB was gentle, it worked really well, and it was an appropriate way to handle the complications we were facing at the time (history, polyhydramnios, cord concerns). So it is hard for me to see through my experience and understand why anything else would ever be done.

I guess I am not really looking for answers to these questions. I have heard most of the answers before. I just don't like the answers I have heard.

I just don't want more babies to die.

Walking

2009-10-02T13:48:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow is our Walk to Remember. Due to Canadian Thanksgiving and conflicting commitments from most members in our support group, the date is early. I am not doing anything special this year, just attending.

In the past I have sang, spoke, read poetry. Is it okay that I am not doing any of that this year? I know the answer is "yes". I know it's okay. But it feels wrong.

I am not in the place any more where I grasp at anything that is remotely connected to C. It saddens me, but it is what they call healing. I have done as much as I can to integrate him (and the loss of him) into my life. Tomorrow I will walk in his memory for the fifth time.

Every day, BB grows and changes. His existence is a continual evolution. I worry about being a good parent, about making good choices for him. I am constantly reacting to those every day things that define our life.

My relationship with C. never changes. It does not grow and mature. He cannot reach out to me as his mother, I cannot hold him close as my son. In so many ways, he can only be an idea, a concept. He was and he mattered, but I didn't know him. Not in the way I know BB. I know that is the real tragedy, but I can't change it. And I have lived with it long enough to know that it isn't going to change.

I think of C. at some point in every day. Not in that gut-wrenching absence-of-presence sort of way, but when I see two brothers play together or when someone speaks of their kids. I know, intellectually, that I have another son. But I don't know what life was like with that son. In some ways, I just don't know what I am missing and I never will.

I don't accept my son's death, not in some "it was meant to be" sort of way. But I have integrated it into my life. I had a son who died. I son I barely knew. I never heard his voice, he never reached out to me, I never fed him, he never slept on my chest. Those personal, physical, tangible pieces of evidence to label him "my son" left with him. We never get that relationship.

There's nothing to be done about it. It doesn't make me weep. It is the tragedy of my life, yet I am finished with most of my crying. I am not putting him away, never will, but the shroud of continual grief is gone.

I miss my son. I never had my son. My son is a memory of a beautiful dream from another lifetime.

Tomorrow I will walk in memory for my son.

Still here

2009-09-25T20:28:00.001-06:00

...just busy. And less preoccupied with online life and more involved in reality. That's a good thing.

Hope you are easing into autumn where you are...

Thankful

2009-08-10T21:34:00.002-06:00

I just heard that my cousin is pregnant. I love my cousin. And I am truly, genuinely, totally, and entirely happy for her. I don't remember the last time I felt like that about a "normal" woman's pregnancy. Apparently my cousin miscarried once (she hasn't ever mentioned the miscarriage, it just got through the family grapevine), but she has always maintained she didn't want children. I just knew that she did. I am so pleased that she is part of the way there.

I am so grateful to be happy. Mostly I feel fucked up and jealous about other babies and pregnancies. I hate to hear of them. I don't want to be jealous; I just am.

Please let this baby arrive, the epitome of perfection, safely in January.

And thank God and the passing of time that I can feel happy about a baby.

A boy

2009-07-18T09:19:00.002-06:00

I wonder if C would have loved trucks and trains and cars and diggers this much. I think so. I think there is something in a boy that allows them to make machine noises and causes deep fascination with all things mechanical. Never have I seen such interest in a lawn mower.

We just returned from our holiday. Watching BB play alone nearly ripped my heart out. It took all my energy to concentrate on other things. Maybe I wasn't that fun to be around, sometimes. I wonder if I will always have to feel this way?

Like AF

2009-06-26T13:10:00.002-06:00

Well, I should make an appearance at least once a month, shouldn't I? I am transitioning away from much online stuff. That's okay, but I miss it. Mostly, I think about yarn and dirt. Knitting and gardening. And sticky fingers.

He talks to me now. In little half sentences that only someone trained in the art of code-breaking could possibly decipher. He remembers things from a week or a month ago and brings them up, totally out of context. I feel like superwoman when I figure our what the hell he is talking about.

He loves me passionately. He wants to be independent and he wants me to do everything for him. He has figured out how to make his body as stiff as a rod or as limp as a noodle, depending on the variety of tantrum he is aiming for. The tantrums are rare; his temperament is mild. He loves his father and wants to fix things with him.

He loves trucks and playing the harmonica.

When he helps me push the shopping cart, he has started hanging off of it like a monkey bar and whizzing along with his feet a few inches off the ground. His laugh is the most perfect sound in the world.

His hair is as blond as his parents' when they were children. He looks exactly like me and exactly like his father. The eyes are bluer than endless prairie sky. His kisses are wet and many.

He likes to go visit Brother. It is an incentive to get him in the car. "Get in and we'll go visit Brother." On Mother's Day we flew kites, got to watch a train lumber by and saw a crop duster fly by. I imagine that is the reason why.

When his friends come to play, he runs around in a circle and screams with joy, like a dog chasing his tail. He doesn't know what to do with all that love and excitement. He wants his friends to come to his house so he can host them, but then he is almost more content to sit and watch them play. His personality is so like mine and so like his father's.

I have decided that I no longer scream at him in anger. It was as easy as that. I have to resist all natural urges to scream when he isn't listening; that was how I was raised, after all. I just tell myself that I am zen, I am patience personified. Life moves more slowly and more quietly now. It's good. I am done with screaming. Our house has been quiet for two weeks. I have no fears of returning to that habit. I quit while the quitting was easy.

I am so full of my little boy these days that I don't know how C. fits anymore. It all still hurts, but I have to consciously turn my thoughts to him. I worry that I don't mourn him as a person, but more as a loss of my idealism, my youth, my dreams. He flits around the edges like a ghostly idea, never firming up and taking shape. He was a hope unfulfilled. What's a person to do with that? So intangible.

I continue to deeply desire another child. My husband does not. I pray that some satisfactory resolution will present itself to us in a way that respects both of our needs.

And that's June.

Good News

2009-05-22T21:01:00.002-06:00

I am very pleased that our province has passed the new vital statistics act, allowing the issuance of Certificates of Stillbirth. I have no official paper in my possession with C's name on it. I want it.

I am grateful that I did not have to lobby to make this happen. I imagined myself lobbying politicians, firing off righteous missives to the media, fighting the good fight; I didn't have it in me. I am so damned glad that others did it for me. Thank you, those who have tread this path before me.

I am not particularly pleased that the act has passed, but they will need at least a year at the paper-pusher end of things to actually be able to produce the documents. Or so says the rep I spoke to today. Sigh. Like this came out of the blue or something.... um, this bill has been before the legislature for 3 years and is dated 2008. Perhaps you all might have thought to prepare in advance for the eventual adoption as law.

Ah, the speed of government astounds even me.

Nonetheless, I am thankful today. A small token has been dangled before me and isn't that far away.

My boy would have been five years old by then.

Procreation woes

2009-05-06T16:33:00.004-06:00

I have been writing posts. Not just mentally, but in Blogger, too. But they are all I-want-to-have-another-baby posts and this is a contentious issue in our house. For very legitimate reasons, we disagree.

I don't know what to do with all the crazy in my head. I have a lot of crazy in my head again. But blasting it all across the internets without prior approval of the person who means the most in my life would be a silly thing to do. Been there, done that, never again.

Just send me Not Crazy vibes, would you?

A little angst

2009-04-23T04:04:00.004-06:00

I have to admit that when I hear of someone who has experienced multiple losses, I just don't know what to do. When the losses are the babies of my cousin and his wife, I know even less.

In the past two + years, my cousin's wife has miscarried three times that I know of. I put it that way, because who knows if these things make their way through the family grapevine. Now she is halfway through another pregnancy and further along than she's ever been. She is working with a specialist, taking hormones; all those things so many of my blog friends have done. All seems to be going well.

Before I heard of this pregnancy, I had already bought some lovely merino superwash yarn in celery green and chosen a sweet little cardigan pattern in case they ever had a successful pregnancy. I don't usually put that kind of energy into knitting something to give away; you have to be special to me to garner anything over and above a quick little hat. But I felt like this new little life would be one to celebrate, if it ever arrived.

Fast forward 8 months; now she is pregnant and due in October. At first I was so happy for her. But then I started to feel weird about the whole thing, as her Facebook status began to focus on this new baby. It wasn't that I was no longer happy; it was that I was starting to feel.... incredulous, maybe?

I feel a little bit stunned that, on Facebook and in every face-to-face conversation I have had with her, she assumes that the danger is over now that she is past a certain point. Now, I realize that we all deal with this postdeadbabytrauma in our own way. She maybe subscribes to the notion that if you believe in things hard enough it will make them come true. But it makes me feel uncomfortable.

I think there are two reasons for my discomfort. Firstly, I know how stupendously wrong it can go at any point. I can't imagine how she would cope if the worst happened. Secondly, it makes me feel (yet again) like some sort of pariah or freak. Because everybody knows that once you get past the first trimester, its all sunshine and rainbows and nothing can go wrong.

I get so frustrated with that prevailing notion of our culture. It makes me feel that I must have done something wrong - either physically, that damaged C. in some way, or in some karmic sense that I deserved to face this heartache. While my brain tells me all of that is entirely ridiculous, that how my cousin's wife reacts in this subsequent pregnancy is in no way personally related to my loss of C., it is very difficult for me to separate those ideas.

No doubt about it, though. I still hurt to the very core when I see a pregnant women, even someone that I like/respect/admire. That sensation was minimal when I had my own little baby in my arms; but now my baby says things like "what's in there?" and "play cars, Mommy?"

I don't know if we will ever have another kid; that is a decision we are struggling with. So all this may have more to do with me having more grief to deal with, and less to do with Facebook belly pictures.

Well, I don't really feel like doing the cardigan anymore. Maybe a quick little hat. I am planning a super-awesome-vest-for-me with the celery superwash.

Don't you just wish this grieving thing had an end point?

With a humourless laugh

2009-03-25T14:21:00.003-06:00

So. I started to feel like I was inured to all that babydom could throw at me.

But today I am forced to say nice things to my colleague who's week old baby is crying in the next room. All I feel is anguish, despair, jealousy, and desire. Those aren't nice things.

The joke's on me.

Like a freight train from nowhere

2009-03-14T21:31:00.004-06:00

We went to college together. He gave me rides to my summer job and I tutored him for his summer session recap. We both survived college in the same tiny class, not the best of friends, but the closest that good acquaintances could be.

Last weekend, his wife gave birth to two boys, 28 weeks gestation. Two days later, they said goodbye to their oldest boy. Their youngest grows stronger daily in his incubator, his mother keeping constant vigil while his father plans a funeral elsewhere.

I felt horrible the moment I learned. There was nothing I could do. So this is how this feels. This is how all of those people felt, 4 years ago.

Today I intended to go to the funeral. Then I read on their blog about the slideshow he had prepared and I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch those photos, so full of love, trying to capture a lifetime in a few clicks, scroll past my eyes with beautiful strains of music floating in the air all the while. I couldn't see two people wracked with the soul numbing grief of saying goodbye. I could not go to the funeral for the baby of a man I have known for 11 years.

I might have gone - I could have sat there, nearly sick with the grief of it. I could have cried and hurt, watched that little casket (would it be fuzzy white?) move down the aisle. I could have endured the outpouring of love for this sweet little boy, all the while ripping in two with the agony of it all. But....

The tears would have been for another boy. The grief and hurt would have been for my boy, not the boy who today deserved the love and the tears. I have survived that tortuous, hellish day. I can't relive it and I won't. I need to not think about that day, so that tomorrow I can get out of bed and live my life.

I'm sorry. But I know that he will understand; if not today, then four years from now.

Not exactly random

2009-03-10T14:37:00.003-06:00

For Thomas:

Where did the words go?

2009-02-27T16:38:00.003-06:00

Well, I am really getting to that point where it is a chore to write a post. When I started this blog, the words poured out of me because they needed to. Now? I think I have cleared enough space in my head that I have room for the words that I have to deal with in there.

This is not some sort of "stopping blogging" announcement. But it is a "don't expect too many posts" announcement. Like you didn't know that already. :)

I have worked at keeping my real life and my blog life totally separate. So now, when life is less about grief and more about, well, life... I don't have as much I can share here. I could brag/complain about my job, brag/complain about my family, brag/complain about other trivialities... well, this doesn't seem to be the forum for it. I have my daily struggles, but those things just don't seem to belong here.

The main question that remains is the question of future children. For now, I guess it is just still a question. If we make a decision on that point, or if life makes the decision for us, I will let you know.

This is no "goodbye", but I may as well say "thanks". Thanks for coming back to read (or keeping me on your reader), even though I so rarely post. It means a lot.

Time's Irrelevance

2009-02-10T23:31:00.001-06:00

I read bon's post and though to myself, "Gee. 4 years. That's a long time."

I guess it is. How did 2005 become 2009?

Painful question.

2009-02-02T13:56:00.000-06:00

I'm just so sad.

Hmmmm.....

2009-01-24T20:56:00.001-06:00

I feel a little better since the fog of Jan. 14th slid by, but not in the way I had hoped. I googled "symptoms of depression" and don't think you could call it clinical. Maybe it's just January.

A Week in Pictures

2009-01-19T21:50:00.004-06:00

My birthday - A new decade.

C.'s birthday

BB's birthday

Whew.

And now he's Two.

2009-01-15T14:10:00.001-06:00

Complete with tantrums, a big-boy bed, grimy hands, and slobbery kisses. It is so good.

4 Years

2009-01-14T12:20:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday, little boy.

Still a little bit to say

2009-01-06T23:26:00.007-06:00

Life sucks you away from you grief.

At first, it is impossible to imagine that you could ever do anything but radiate pain with every heartbeat. You are alive and you child is not. That is a reality. It is not a dream. Try to make yourself understand that fact. Try.

Then you might fight tooth and nail for another chance. We did. And were rewarded with the best of all blessings - a child who lives in our home and fills our hearts, minds, and souls with another kind of reality. And this is a good reality.

But now, instead of waging epic battles with my grief on a day-to-day basis, I have to take it out, dust it off, and choose my moments to spend with it. As much as one can "control" any of it, I do that. It tuck it away in a quiet place, for a time when we can be alone.

I think that is why I have been so surprised by the (at times) massive pain and sorrow that has knocked me down in the last 6 weeks. The first unexpected blow was during the beautiful, Hallmark day that we had a couple of weeks before Christmas. We were setting up the tree, getting out decorations, listening to carols, eating pizza in the living room. Then, out of nowhere, I was bawling - wailing into my husband's chest. It was a perfect moment, spoiled only by the fact that it could never, ever be perfect. Eventually, I stopped crying and went back to my perfect day.

I wish I could say that this last week has been so easy to handle - have a good cry and have done with. It hasn't.

I know what started this. Firstly, it's January. January means "emotional instability" in my world. Secondly, I had a nice little conversation about knitting for charity with Kate over on Ravelry. On Sunday, I started thinking about maybe doing some projects for stillborn babies and donating them to the hospital. Which led to a repeating replay of C's birth, running over and over in my head. All day. I was really fun to be around.

Since Sunday, I have had a slightly anxious feeling, you know, that nervous feeling. I fall asleep after hours of laying in my bed, sleeping fitfully all night. I have that weight in my chest, that heavy feeling, that physical manifestation of depression and grief.

I have to admit something to you. It almost feels good, almost feels right. I am a mother who's son is dead. I should always feel it in the pit of my stomach, shouldn't I? When I feel good, I feel like I shouldn't. Like I don't love and miss my son as much as the rest of you do. Like I am some shallow person who can "put it behind her".

I don't want to put it behind me. But I don't know what's to be gained walking around on the verge of tears with an anxious stomach all day. I want it and I hate it at the same time.

When I was in labour with C., I was offered pain meds. I said no. I needed to feel the pain - for two reasons, really. First, the pain was giving me something real to feel and concentrate on. All I had to survive were the minutes between contractions. No thoughts of a future without C., going home without a baby. Just *pain*, no pain, *pain*, no pain. Second, I think I was punishing myself - my baby was dead before he was born and I was going to suffer for it. I think I still feel this way, that I must always hurt to suffer for the fact that I let him die. Maybe. I don't know.

If you were just an acquaintance of mine, you wouldn't know what was going on behind my eyes. I smile, plan a 2nd birthday party, greet people with "Happy New Year." We have meals on the table, the laundry is mostly done. But for the past few days, I have been in a low place.

Sigh.

Bribery

2008-12-16T13:28:00.001-06:00

Things have not really improved on the time management front. Because I want you to still like me, though I don't blog hardly at all, please leave me a comment and I will email you a cute picture of my boy for you to admire. Maybe even a cute video, if I can manage it all.

Hope your holiday season has been more peaceful than mine.

P.S. This fourth Christmas without C. has been hard. Really hard.

A Working Mom's Nightmare

2008-12-01T00:29:00.003-06:00

To cope with the unreasonable expectations that have resulted from too many "yes's", I have resorted to lying as to why I cannot attend this or another meeting, etc. and so forth. Now I have the impossible task of managing my lies, remembering who I told what and why, and realizing that I have no end in sight.

Actually, now that I think of it, there is an end in sight. Year end. God help us all.

Take your poo and stuff it.

2008-11-27T16:45:00.003-06:00

GRIPE OF THE DAY:

DO NOT ask me how old my son is, determine your son is two weeks younger, and ask me if BB is potty-trained. And DO NOT stand there with your eyebrows arched in a slight expression of triumph, mouth battling back a smirk. I am not in some Mom-Olympics competition with you.

I do not agree with your perspective on this battle-ground of potty training. Your manifesto - they say that if kids aren't potty trained by the time they are 30 months, they lose interest, especially boys - is essentially flawed, in my opinion. I don't believe that children are little robots that have to programmed before explicit deadlines or they lose power to essential systems. And I don't see very many 16-year-olds walking around in adult diapers because their mothers missed some magic window of time.

And while we're discussing how you are missing the point, let's try looking at the definition of "potty trained." To me, that means a kid who knows he has to use the bathroom, tells me he has to use the bathroom, then goes to use the bathroom. I may or may not help him, he may or may not miss the mark on rare occasions. But mostly, a potty trained kid is a kid who does the deed by himself.

What you described to me does not meet my definition. Putting my child in a cloth diaper so that he will feel wet is not "trained". Sitting him on the pot when I think is needs to do the deed is not "trained". Dealing with daily misses is not "trained." I could perhaps accept the argument that those things could be a part of training, but certainly not meeting the definition of "trained."

Lady, your kid is not toilet trained. And I don't care that you think you are superior to me because I am not going through the futile effort of "training" a kid who isn't ready. It is fully my intention to wait until he is ready for the process - and with this comes the hope that we can reach the end result of "trained" in a very short period of time (let's talk days/weeks, not months). Maybe it will work or maybe it won't. In the long run, I don't see him wearing diapers to kindergarten.

In fact, my babysitter (who has done this for 17 years and has toilet trained literally hundreds of kids) doesn't want to start that battle. BB is happy. He is not interested in toilet training. He is busy playing. She doesn't have time to run him to the pot every 15 minutes and she won't start with him until he can get into the routine quickly. (And p.s. - she thinks you're kidding yourself.)

So, let's be clear. This is not your business. Spouting off about how and when I should be toilet training my kid is not appropriate. Live and let live, I say. I won't tell you that I think you are nuts for trying to train a 22 month old and I expect you to exercise some of the same restraint.

But, since you started it - YOU'RE NUTS. Now back off.

Respectfully yours,
A Mom With Her Own Approach.

P.S. Now I feel better. This griping stuff is good for the soul.

P.P.S. Those who have done it, potting training war stories to share?

Gripe of the Day

2008-11-26T22:43:00.002-06:00

Mostly, I walk around writing complaint posts in my head. You know, when something bugs me, I imagine writing a post about it and having the Internets respond with a resounding "Right On, Man!" So, I am going to try out a new feature - Gripe of the Day. We'll see if it catches on.

Since this is my first go, I will probably gripe about several things:

I am so sick of celebrities, I could just go crawl under a rock on an uninhabited island and live there in isolation until eternity passes. I am especially sick of pregnant child celebrities or possibly-pregnant Brangelinas. PLEASE STOP TELLING ME ABOUT THESE PEOPLE AND TRYING TO PASS IT OFF AS LEGITIMATE NEWS!!!!!

I don't know why the "Original Moritz Icy Squares" aren't as icy as I remember them, and it bugs me. (Doesn't stop me from eating them into oblivion, though).

Why doesn't my work software run on a Mac platform? I would switch, if I could....

Was that a boring list of gripes? Perhaps this feature won't grow my readership in the way I had hoped.... [Mental note: Become more witty by the next post...]

Looking on tempests

2008-11-15T13:44:00.003-06:00

It is hard to know how to love C.

The thing about love is that we have been trained to analyze it from all angles. We work very hard to place definitions or descriptors on our love. We write songs and poetry and sit in analysts offices dissecting the beast.

It's more of the quality of love that I am talking about here, not the existence of love. I love C. deeply and through every fibre of my being. But it isn't a dynamic love, changing and growing with the fluctuations of time and intimacy. It is a love of memory.

How is it possible to love someone entirely in memory? What definition do we give to that love? It isn't something that I have ever wanted or had even imagined.

When I held BB in my arms that first time, it was like the confirmation of love; I knew I loved him - desperately loved him - from the moment I first knew of him. Seeing his eyes gazing into mine, suckling him at my breast, smelling his soft, baby sweetness - this just confirmed what I already knew. Every one of the past year and ten months has gently nudged that love around - I love him for his sense of humour, his dimples, his laugh, his attachment to his stuffed dinosaur, the way he calls himself "baby". The love I have for him changes every day.

With C., the confirmation has never come. It will never come. So the love I have for him feels like the stuff of dreams. Something sweet that I imagined once for me and for my husband, but something that we don't get to have now. Something that didn't materialize.

The quality of the love that you feel for the people who live in the here and now can never be the same kind of love that you feel for those who are gone. I accept that. What is harder to accept - no, harder to understand how to live with - is the feeling that it just shouldn't have to be this way. That I am somehow loving C. in the wrong way because it is impossible to love him in the way that I love BB. The relationship that I have with each of my boys is so very different that the two experiences could hardly even be compared.

I know there is no right way or wrong way. I don't need reassurance that I am doing this right. It just is what it is.

The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month

2008-11-11T11:00:00.000-06:00

Today Canadians look to those who have fallen in war with the deepest of gratitude and the utmost pride. Every country honours these men and women in its own way. Today, we celebrate the identity-defining heroic acts of The War to End All Wars and we think of those young men and women who have fallen in the last few years in the deserts and hills of Afghanistan.

Much of our national identity and our national sense of pride is derived from our proud military history. Rightly or wrongly, we Canadians see ourselves as Defenders of the Peace. These conflicts that we engage in have rarely been "our" wars. Instead, our young people have travelled great distances and made the ultimate sacrifice to defend the ideals that our nation holds dear. In recent history, we have not fought to gain territory or resources - to die for an ideal is a remarkable thing.

Today, I encourage you all to learn a little bit more about Canada's participation in various international conflicts by viewing this stunning documentary at www.nfb.ca/frontlines, or following some of the links in this article.

Lest we forget.

Choo-choo

2008-11-05T14:04:00.004-06:00

Could anyone care less about my last posts? Honestly, I can hardly care less. When I find a moment to read other blogs, it generally make me feel rather shameful about my own.

My Ravelry invite arrived. I only had time to sign up. I have no idea how to work the thing yet. I will keep you posted (because maybe one person cares, right).

In a knitting related theme, I was thinking about how Joan Sutherland would sit and knit between her scenes during rehearsals. I was contemplating how I could work some of that into my life - what would be my equivalent of knit-one-purl-two-slip-one-knit-two-together, stand up and blast off some high C's, then settle back into the pattern...?

And it hit me. The last time I seriously contemplated this (because it has come up before), I was frantically stitching a gloriously fluffy boucle blanket for a boy who didn't ever come home. I knew I had mere weeks to finish it. Those weeks were actually days and the blanket was never finished. Now it lies tucked into the casket of a tiny boy; an unfinished blanket for a boy who didn't even get to start.

It always takes me off guard how a seemingly simple and uncomplicated train of thought can so easy turn into a train-wreck.

Still Waiting

2008-11-03T17:49:00.002-06:00

Stitching Update

2008-10-30T22:22:00.002-06:00

Because I am sure you are all on the edge of your seats (and more truthfully because I am so relieved) I am glad to tell you I was able to finish the front panel of the sweater with the yarn that I have. So, hopefully Ravelry will help me track down one more skein of yarn in a close match and I will actually be able to finish this thing. If they would just send my my invitation...

Dear Kate,

2008-10-28T16:25:00.002-06:00

I am joining Ravelry.

Now stop hassling me. :)

delphi

p.s. Thank you a zillion for your detective work!

Major Stitching Problems

2008-10-25T23:43:00.002-06:00

I am hoping that one of you can give me some guidance. I have made the classic blunder. I am almost finished the front panel of the sweater I am knitting for BB and I am sure that I won't have enough yarn. I am using Classic Elite Yarn "Two.Two" in colour 1504, which went out of production in fall of 2005. Any suggestions?

If I can finish the body in the yarn I have, a close match would be okay to use on the cuffs. It doesn't have to be an exact match. This yarn looks like the same colour, but who can tell from pictures? But it has a completely different colour number - 1557.

Advice?????

The Alternative

2008-10-22T13:50:00.004-06:00

If my son was alive, I wouldn't know you.

I would say things like "It's okay - they're young and can have another one" or "Maybe it's all for the best."

I would get all awkward and change the subject if someone mentioned a death or a pregnancy loss.

I would imagine myself to be empathetic and understanding, even though there would be no possible way for me to understand.

I would think I can't possibly imagine, while tucking my two living sons into bed at night and thanking God it happened to them, not me.

I would think that people still talking about miscarriages 10 years later was kind of sad - why aren't you over it yet?

I would still think that taking pictures of people after they're dead is creepy and weird.

I wouldn't know any of the following terms: idiopathic cardiomyopothy, subsequent baby, abruption, ectopic, and worst of all cord accident.

I would have no idea who Jason Collins is.

I wouldn't use the words "try" or "if we're lucky" or "maybe" in regards to having a baby.

I would think that having annual memorial events for people who didn't even live was incredibly self-indulgent.

I would not have a blog.

I wouldn't know any of you.

If my son were alive, I wouldn't know you. In so many ways, I hate that I know you. But every day I am deeply thankful that I do.

Two posts in one day?

2008-10-17T12:10:00.001-06:00

Shocking, isn't it. I just had to say this:

Pictures of sleeping babies are a whole lot cuter when you haven't had a dead baby.

To Give Thanks

2008-10-17T09:30:00.003-06:00

I just realized that I didn't actually give thanks for anything last weekend, Thanksgiving here. The most obvious moment to do so would have been during the church service we attended, but the sermon was about a fund-raising effort and no mention was made of giving thanks. So I just forgot.

For the record, I am thankful for a multitude of things. I just didn't remember to make note of them last weekend.

Besides, this is what we woke to on Monday:

It's mostly melted now, a freak storm in an otherwise warm autumn. It should be lovely tomorrow when we attend our annual Walk to Remember.

No denying it, though. The cold is coming.

October 15th

2008-10-15T12:53:00.000-06:00

Loving you and thinking of you today. As every day.

My boy.

Positive thinking for the spring garden.

2008-10-04T13:35:00.006-06:00

Because I am likely to forget, and because I am firmly entrenched in next-year-territory, these are the bulbs that I just planted.

Two allium bulbs by the arbour in the front, allium/tulip combos to hide the gas meter, and tulips around the Morden Blush roses at the back door.

Likely I have planted them too late and not deeply enough to actually have results next spring, but here's hoping. Here are some pretty pictures from other people.

Dear World

2008-09-25T22:06:00.002-06:00

It is possible for a perfectly healthy baby to die for no known reason after the "scary" first 3 weeks. Please attempt to remember that.

(Sorry. Feeling particularly inundated with kittens-rainbows-and-sunshine pregnancies today. By people who should know better. WHEN the baby gets here, indeed. And please dump the annoying Facebook ticker. Arg.)

OK. Now attempting to rationalize that they are normal and I am not. It is normal to be expectant and confident. It is not normal to see death as the possible 50-50 outcome of any pregnancy. It's just my fucked up brain controlling all my emotions again. Ignore it. Just ignore it.

Excuse me while I go writhe in jealousy at the naivete.

Is this somehow better?

2008-09-19T22:16:00.003-06:00

It is just so weird how far away and long ago it was that I was pregnant with C. I never thought I would say this, but it feels like it didn't really happen to me. Like it was all a bad dream.

The days just move ahead. Life moves ahead. BB grows and changes and fills my days. C. doesn't. I don't know how to bring the memory of C. into the here and now.

Fundamentally, the problem with the memory of a person is that it doesn't move forward. When the memory barely has a chance to exist - when there are no stories that friends can share, when there are no firsts to reminisce about, when there is no sound of a voice, a scent... well, you get the picture. What am I supposed to do with that?

I will never be satisfied with my relationship with C. It is one sided. It can never grow. I can never get to know him in any real way. How is a mother supposed to find any satisfaction in that?

I don't think of him every hour of the day anymore. His memory is less concrete than that. I feel his existence in my bones, at some base level. It is something primal, something instinctual. He is the reason my stomach flips dangerously at the sight of a pregnant belly. Or when discussions of babies and pregnancies are overheard.

So, has C's legacy become a smattering of negative, heart-jerking emotions? Are those the only times that I think of that perfect little boy? I don't know. I don't think so. But those are the things that I feel most deeply.

I think of him when I take BB to the swimming pool. He screams his head off with excitement when the older kids, kids about C's age, play with him. I always think about how I would be managing two boys - would I be able to keep both of them within reach? Would I have fun swimming with my two boys or would I just be frustrated by it all? Is the patience I (usually) have with BB be more or less if C was still here?

I don't know what the point of all of this is, other than to say that I feel so unsatisfied with the position that C holds in my heart and my life. I don't really know what to do about it.

Not really helping the women's movement

2008-09-18T15:37:00.003-06:00

In an effort to end a really boring conversation, I just told my boss that "I don't worry my pretty little head" about things like money or the economy.

Don't worry; I am a unionized worker for the provincial government. He can't fire me.

Also, he knows a joke when he hears one.

Radio Flashback

2008-09-15T21:11:00.002-06:00

I asked my good friend, a brilliant pianist, to play something beautiful for C's funeral. I secretly hoped she would play Satie's Gymnopédies No. 1.

I'm glad she didn't.

The hustle and the bustle

2008-09-10T14:05:00.002-06:00

Well, I want to tell how it's going with my office-mate. El Stinko. He actually smells fine in the morning - the odor is something that develops over the course of the day. That makes me think that he does wear deoderant, but that it doesn't work very well. And as far as the job share goes, things are trucking along in an abysmal fashion. He has no respect for my experience or knowledge and will not take any suggestions from me. Never mind that I have been doing this job for 6 years and he has done a part-time portion of it for 12 months (12 of the months I was on leave).

He asked me how many kids I have now. Duh. Idiot. You filled my position for both of my maternity leaves. That is how you got the job. Think, moron. I have thus far held my tongue and refrained from hitting him. Amazing self control, I think.

I am unhappy with the sharing portion of my job, but some of my project work was transferred into a sector that I am pretty good at. Always a mix of the good and the bad.

Now that I have figured out a back-door way to access Blogger (that our work firewall doesn't disallow), I hope to post more. When I will find time to read, I haven't figured out yet.

On an unrelated note, how do you feel when your MIL helps out at your house with laundry and cleaning, unasked? Because I should be grateful, but mostly I just feel embarrased that my house was such a disaster and annoyed that I can't find my dishes. Ah, the complexity of our near vacinity to my in-laws.

Possibly the world's most boring post.

2008-08-31T20:00:00.005-06:00

Well, it seems as though my work firewall doesn't like Blogger. I can read from work, but I cannot seem to log in to post or to comment. They are working on the network, so maybe this is temporary, but I am not sure what to do with myself on my coffee break. It is cramping my style.

I put up 20 pounds of peaches, 10 pounds of plums, and made 10 pints of applesauce. I think I am done preserving for the season. "to put up" - where does that phrase come from and why do we use it in reference to home canning? I should post a photo of the peaches - they look pretty. The peach rum sauce is to die for:

6 cups diced peaches
2 cups white sugar
2 cups brown sugar
3/4 cups rum
Simmer for 20 minutes, ladle into sterilized half-pint jars, process in canner for 10 minutes (for elevations less than 5oom; add 5 min for each increment of +500m).
Eat on ice cream. Try not to hurt yourself when you swoon.

Really, there is little new here. We did the classic Labour Day weekend thing, and sat in the cold and rain watching our favourite CFL team win. Then we came home. Now I am read to sleep.

We are all working our way through a cold that came home from daycare.

My baby isn't very small anymore.

I'm tired.

The End.

What I was thinking on my summer vacation.

2008-08-19T20:03:00.004-06:00

There was always something about saying goodbye to C. that made me feel so ancient. It was a weight that pulled me down. If I sat around in a room of eighty year olds, I would feel like I was the oldest person in the room.

This is not something that has slipped away from me. I still feel old. After 30-odd years on this planet, I suppose most people would consider me in the tail-end of my youth. But I just feel old.

I don't know if or when I will shake this feeling. Perhaps it is something that I will just grow into. Instead of feeling old, I will just be old. Who knows?

Recently, I was listening to Stuart McLean read a Vinyl Cafe story. In it, a 40-something Morley is asked to stand up for her friend's second marriage. The friend has a 20 year old daughter who is horrified at the idea of her mother marrying a younger man. Morley recognizes the "confidence of youth" in the daughter's self assured dislike of the marriage.

It was this phrase that struck me. Frankly, I think this is what I am missing - this is what I lost in January 2005. I lost the confident arrogance that fuels the spirit of the young. It was this loss that left me feeling like a wrinkled, withered up old shell.

During my pregnancy with C, I distinctly remember feeling irritated by those who wished us luck. I was appalled that these people would imply that anything bad could possibly happen. I took prenatal supplements and read about the "right" way to be pregnant and went to the breastfeeding class and avoided soft cheeses. I did everything right. I believed I knew how the story went. I believed there was only one ending.

I remember feeling a certain envy for my great-grandmother in those early days after C. died. She had at least 2 children die before their second birthday. However, she would have had a much better sense of infant mortality than I did. She was a European immigrant who was homesteading in the middle of the Canadian prairies, with the nearest neighbour miles away. There was an understanding that every pregnancy is risky - for both the mother and the unborn infant. That isn't the world we live in - we live in a world where tragedy is defined as not getting the crib linens we want.

I regret being so over-confident in my youth and I regret losing that confidence, both at the same time. I see young people around me all the time; I hear what they say. They see nothing but opportunity in the world and they have all the answers. I would have liked the lose that with the passing of time. This way was impossibly hard.

Still not much worth reading here.

2008-08-05T23:29:00.002-06:00

Whew. I just updated the Babyloss Directory. That always takes a round out of me. I had updates dating back to May. 54 emails to address.

I am smarter now, though. I don't read any of the new blogs, other than to quickly glean necessary information. I know I can't deal with it, not without incurring the pain of a downward spiral of grief.

Suffice it to say, the miniature epiphany that I had during our holiday will have to wait. I'm spent.

Home again; for now.

2008-07-21T15:05:00.002-06:00

Well, we are home long enough to do laundry and pack the RV. I love to be on holiday. I might write more or post pictures to the other site while I'm here.

Oh, and sorry about starting the BO controversy. I knew that post would cause nothing but trouble.

Packing.

2008-07-10T21:49:00.003-06:00

Though I have hardly been a prolific blogger as of late, it is about to get worse. We leave on a week's holiday tomorrow, then home a few days, then another 10 days away.

'Til then, be well.

A very rare photo of us.

2008-07-04T12:25:00.006-06:00

[photo removed]

Well, I never post photos of us here. But I could not resist. I will be removing it tomorrow (or tonight, if I get too nervous).

I feel fairly confident those who read this blog don't know me in real life. So, I would just like those who do to have a quick look at us. I think we look like your typical Canada Day celebrants, don't you? It was a good day.

OH CANADA

2008-07-01T12:39:00.002-06:00

I need some advice. (also entitled: Please don't think less of me because I over-used parentheses in this post)

2008-06-24T15:14:00.004-06:00

I am desperate. I don't know what to do. In a mere 8 weeks, on Fridays, I will share my office with a man sporting terrible BO. How terrible, you ask? This guy used my office for a year while I was on maternity leave. When I returned after Christmas (the office had been vacant for two weeks), the smell lingered.

There is absolutely no possibility of me saying "hey, you stink, why don't you try a shower and some deodorant?" That's just never going to happen. Besides, I guess I should give him the benefit of the doubt that this is some sort of medical problem. I'm sure his wife of 30 years would have tried the "you stink" route by now.

Any suggestions on stink-masking? Scented candles aren't really an option (a scent-free workplace... except BO, apparently), but maybe one of those scent-removing ones would be okay (as long as the fire inspector doesn't catch me). Probably some sort of spray would be better.

Help.

You can finally relax.

2008-06-18T20:08:00.002-06:00

Here is the promised photo. Pretty, isn't she?

The rain has ceased. If you need me, I will be in my garden. Summer, oh glorious summer.

Darn it.

2008-06-14T21:59:00.003-06:00

While I was pregnant with BB, and in the subsequent months after he was born, I no longer was consumed with that desperate combination of envy and hatred when I looked at another expanding tummy or heard gentle noises coming from a baby carrier. I was able to focus on what I had and I more or less ignored everything else.

Well - it's back, with a vengence. Yet again this thing called grief spins me around and points me in a direction that I don't want to travel. Turns out it was merely a temporary reprieve from the ugliness of my worst emotions. I thought that I had bid that part of me a final farewell.

I don't look forward to continuing on until the end of my days feeling desperately jealous/angry towards those who are welcoming new lives. I can only hope that the reprieve will return with the passage of time. There is no hiding from yourself, not really.

I can't have what I want. He's not coming back.

Pooey.

2008-06-06T16:08:00.003-06:00

(photo from website, not my yard)

I bought a Snowball Bush (Viburum opulus 'Roseum') 3 years ago and put it in with my hydrangea. Nice combo, hey? My hydrangea was my surrogate baby for those intervening years... (check the sidebar for 2005 photos)

Anyway, the snowball has either aphids or whiteflies (I just can't decide). I tried treating it organically with a rhubarb leaf tea mixed with soap. Ken Beattie's tried-and-true aphid treatment (though I don't know how it works on white flies). I think there were more insects when I was done spraying.

Every single cluster of leaves had at least one that was curled around an army of aphid-looking things. So I chopped it off. It was only 3' tall anyway, but now I am sad. I don't know. Maybe I should have left it - maybe the ladybugs would have cleaned it up in a couple of weeks. But I didn't want the infestation to spread and I didn't want to use an insecticide like Cygon. I left a couple of branches that weren't really infested and will continue to treat them with the rhubarb tea.

I hope someone out there has pruned a vibernum hard and had it come back threefold. I would love it if you would tell me that story.

Or what do you do for aphids?

Dirty Girl

2008-06-02T16:08:00.002-06:00

After 5 years of truncated gardening efforts, my back garden is now getting the attention it deserves.
2004- morning sickness
2005 - built new garden in front as grief therapy
2006 - morning sickness
2007 - 6 month old
2008 - a whole weekend in the back yard, with toddler in tow, and sun on my face - and it's barely June!

I think I spent more time in my back garden this weekend than I did in all of June last year. It feels good. It feels normal.

You should see the new garden accent my husband bought me. I will post a picture ASAP.

Happy blooms to you.

On the losing end...

2008-05-27T21:51:00.002-06:00

...of a nasty stomache virus.

Here's hoping that today marks the end of it all.

Another farewell

2008-05-24T22:22:00.003-06:00

I squirmed with discomfort when my office-mate responded to the sad news that my cousin's wife miscarried again with "My sister hasn't even gotten that far."

Admittedly, I have not miscarried. I also haven't experienced true infertility (our diagnosis of secondary infertility between the boys was too short lived to count for much). So I can't say that I have much personal experience with either situation.

Nonetheless, I cannot help but feel the comment was inappropriate. Because I don't think my cousin or his wife count themselves lucky to be able to get pregnant but not bring home a baby. And I don't think my office-mate's sister would be very thrilled to get pregnant and lose the baby, either.

Maybe I am wrong (feel free to contradict), but I can't imagine how miscarriage could ever be construed as better than infertility. The both suck in equally shitty, though slightly different ways.

Oh well. My office-mate also makes other inappropriate comments. And mispronounces the word "sometimes". Not exactly bosom-buddy material.

But, sheesh.

Not Really Any Closer

2008-05-23T12:48:00.003-06:00

Another week passes between posts. Oh well. I hardly imagine anyone out there is hanging on to my every word. Gardening (yay!), BB, and cruising in my new Corolla - well, that takes up time!

Back to business - Thanks for all of the advice re: the BIL/SIL situation. I think it would be worth while to "talk it out" a bit here.

Firstly, we do see each other on common ground a few times a year. We pretend that nothing is amiss and then carry on our merry ways. I don't know why, but I feel like that is not enough. I guess it doesn't match up to that Hallmark-family image that I have in my head. The question is starting to become "what is enough and what is reasonable to expect?"

What I do appreciate, though, is that I am not the only one in this type of situation. I admire those of you who have had the guts to say "it's not worth it" and let it all go. But I am stuck in that place where my mind and my soul are warring against one another. My head says "OK, maybe this is just how things are going to be and it is time to feel like that is enough." My heart says "NO! Families are supposed to be close, care about one another, and spend time together. You just haven't tried hard enough yet."

In truth, I haven't really tried to repair the damage caused by the distance of the past 3 years. Partly that is because I don't know where to begin. I don't know if I am blowing things out of proportion. I don't know if I am being self-centered in wanting more out of the relationship with my in laws; more than an afternoon here or there and a cursory family dinner at Christmastime. Not every family is close; I have to realize that.

Partly, the reason I haven't tried is that I am chicken-shit. I don't want to make things worse. And I think it would be easy to make things worse. (Defining worse: I imagine a scenario where I bring up the topic of the estrangement, they play nice, pretend that they have no idea what I am talking about, and then really make sure they stay away from the crazy emotional woman with no sense of propriety. I do get the feeling that my in-laws prefer the "lets pretend everything is okay" way of life and wouldn't appreciate any sort of "OK, let's deal with this" conversation.)

One of the hardest things about this is the contrast between my own siblings and my siblings-in-law. Though, admittedly, I wasn't always super-close with my own siblings, I have always had a sense of closeness with them. And, these days, I talk to them all several times a week and we are always trying to find ways to minimize the hundreds of kilometers between us. I guess I want that with my in laws, too.

I think what is happening is that I am reaching a cross-roads. I am soon going to have to make a decision. I am going to have to either let it go or try to make it better. Neither option is very appealing at this point.

I'm no longer looking for dead-baby-support from them. All I want is for our families to spend time together (which we do actually still enjoy, despite the void in the intervals) and for our kids to get to know each other.

But maybe I should let it go.

Thanks, a Dance, and a Questions

2008-05-16T15:16:00.004-06:00

Thank you for all of your comments - you have me thinking and a post is brewing.

Until I find a few moments, I will leave you with my happy dance. My new car is here. If you see me this weekend, I will be driving around in this:

Now, a burning question. I sing:

Ring around the rosey,
Pocket full of posies.
Hush-a, hush-a.
We all fall down.

What words do you sing? Did you know it varies by region?

Off my chest

2008-05-12T15:11:00.007-06:00

There are very few people that I have been unable to forgive for the stupid things they have said or done. Generally, I don't hold a grudge very long. I may be upset for a reasonable period of time, but as the waves of time wash over my anger, it fades, quiets and disappears.

For example, when I called my high school friend from my hospital bed and she suggested that C. was a test child, you know, so that I "would know what it was like to be pregnant." - well, I actually don't hate her. Mostly I feel sorry for her. How can you really blame someone for having the emotional maturity of a 16 year old when all she worries about is when can I see the coolest new band in Vancouver? She is an emotional child; I don't hate her. I'm not even angry anymore. (more bewildered, actually...).

Sorry, off on a tangent there.

But I just read this post and it has me thinking about that third that have behaved in a way that I would never have imagined it possible. And there are two faces that are burned into my retina, smiling and happy and so out of reach; people who should have been there, but weren't.

When the phone call went out to my BIL/SIL on that cold, dark, impossible January night, I tried to be reasonable when they told us they couldn't come. They couldn't bring their young children on a 2 hour road trip on such a cold night. I tried to ignore the voice in my head that was pointing out that almost every other person in the room had travelled the exact same distance, in the exact same weather, at the exact same time.

When my BIL arrived alone the next day, I tried to understand his reasons for not bringing his wife and my nieces - people who I needed to hold in my arms and to hold me. He probably gave reasonable explanations - I honestly no longer remember.

I still struggle to understand why they chose not to bring the kids to the funeral. But that was a parenting decision that I am forced to respect. Though I do respect it, I missed the living, beautiful faces of my nieces on that horrible, horrible day. And I felt like the questions I was forced to answer in the weeks that followed might have been curtailed by having the girls there.

There was no doubt in my mind, however, that they would be there for us, no matter what, and that they would understand. My SIL won a battle with cancer in her early 20s, but lost her ovaries in the process. They built their family through adoption. They would know something of loss and of starting over. In this train of thought, I leaned as heavily as a thought I could. I leaned like someone who needed to be carried.

I wasn't sure what was happening when they didn't seem to be checking in on us as much as I thought they might. Or why it suddenly became harder to get them on the phone.

A couple of months passed. Then came the conversation with my SIL when I shared an experience that was very difficult for me and she tried to make me see it through the eyes of someone much further down the road of grief. I was hurt that she tried to push me like that. I didn't say anything, but I think she sensed my hurt and that was when the Great Deep Freeze of '05 began.

When I called in July and left the message on their machine (Hi, it's me. We aren't doing very well. Maybe we could come on our days off and spend some time with the girls - take them to the water park while you are at work. I think it would do us good to spend time with them), and we didn't get a call back... well... I knew the Deep Freeze was now in full effect.

She was tired of me. Maybe, they were tired of us (don't know about that, though. Maybe it was all me...)

Since then, we might see them 5 times in a year. Maybe talk on the phone 3 times. A mere fraction of our previous interaction. Sadly, these were people that I thought would be one of the foundations of our lives. When I married my husband, I was thrilled to be gaining an older brother and sister. Advice, camaraderie, growing families together - it was going to be like a Hallmark movie.

Where are we now? They screen our calls. Last year, my BIL declined to become BB's godfather. My husband and I speak resentful words about them in the privacy of our own home. Every interaction with them seems to bring a new low.

I don't know what to do. The obvious thing would be to talk about it, right? But, talk about WHAT? It's like the early years of Global Warming - no one had any proof. Scientists couldn't point to statistics and data and explain exactly how they knew what was happening. It is all stuff that happens in unspoken and unremarkable ways.

There are no specifics. I suppose I could say "I think you don't like me much. I think you screen my calls. I think you avoid me. I want to be your friend and your sister and an involved aunt, but you don't seem interested. I want my son to know you and your children. I want the Deep Freeze to end."

However, studied in the bold light of day, that type of conversation seems like utter nonsense. I cannot think of any scenario wherein I would feel any sense of assurance that this conversation would get me anywhere. I just don't think it would fly.

So, if you've stayed with me this long, I have to say I don't know what to do. Maybe there is nothing to be done. Maybe I need to get about the business of getting over it and moving on (ha!).

I am sad that these people aren't in my life the way I expected.

Thanks for listening.

P.S. Of course, there are so many intricacies and subtleties that I am glossing over here. I understand, intellectually, many of the choices they have made over the past 3.5 years. It's my heart that is calling foul, not my head. It is all complicated and layered and drives me to distraction.

Fits and Starts

2008-05-07T10:36:00.003-06:00

I don't know why, but I have been feeling quite sorry for myself the last few days. It is because C. isn't here, but he wasn't here last week, either. I don't know why this week is so trying.

On the other hand, it feels like spring might be here to stay. An hour with BB in the sunlight, under a huge, blue sky, is perfection - like I am watching a made for TV movie.

Sunlight and Shadows

2008-04-29T13:24:00.003-06:00

I continue to subject myself to the ups and downs of attending a local playgroup. On days when it is the "same old faces", I do pretty well. But, since it is a drop-in, some days are crazy, with too many kids and too many pregnant bellies. But the promise of socialization for BB and the possibility of friends for me is too much of a draw for me to let it go. And I am a creature of habit.

As I load BB into the car and drive the 10 minutes to the group, I try not to wonder what the next 2 hours will bring. I try to keep myself in a positive frame of mind. I already have a pretty good idea who will be there and what the conversation will sound like.

There will be a lot of discussion of pregnancy and babies. There will be certainty in the tones of the speakers: when they have their next baby, when they get pregnant again. There is no if. Sometimes it rolls right off my back; sometimes I choke on the distance between my reality and theirs.

Today, as we drove, BB listened to the music on the radio and gazed with intent interest out at the passing scenery. The sun shone with the promise of summer. Without warning, the image of another boy, an older boy, a big brother, was there before my eyes. My heart lurched. I had no choice but to smile at the boy who is here, to turn up the tunes, and to try to sing the heartache away.

This is my life. One boy, not two. No use in crying; may as well sing.

Perspective

2008-04-24T16:31:00.003-06:00

I checked Face.book this morning and my friend from high school had listed his status as "anxious about the new baby". Worried, I sent him a quick message to find out if things were okay. He messaged back to say that they are expecting in May and are excited and everything is well. I suppose by "anxious" he meant "can't wait".

Frankly, his interpretation of "anxious" and mine are quite different.

Glad

2008-04-22T19:55:00.002-06:00

Well, I have managed to get over the first major stressful period since I returned to work. And, happily, I have nothing pertinant to do at work until May 26. It is sometimes hard to deal with a work level that ebbs and flows, but I do appreciate those weeks when I have little work to do.

So I am considering taking an online Ph0t0Sh0p class. This stems from my (probably insane) desire to begin digi-scrapping. I like computer stuff, and I get nowhere with the cut-and-paste variety of scrapbooking, so.... maybe. Depends. I start plenty of things that I don't finish (at least, don't finish right away). But Ph0t0Sh0p is always a good resume item, right? Any suggestions regarding classes to take? Any digi-scrappers out there.

We are also thinking it is time to buy a Mac. I am very excited about that.

Oh, and BB started walking this week. And I am weaning him from his before-bed nursing (now just nursing him first thing in the AM). What an eventful (and hard) week.

Circles

2008-04-13T09:51:00.005-06:00

My best friend (M.) from high school called this week to tell me that she is expecting her first baby. She and her husband (her high school sweetheart) are very excited.

I expected the call for some time now. It's inevitable, really. When you know that kids are on the "someday" list, the day is sure to come. The people I know just don't have fertility issues or lose babies.

If there is anyone in the world that I could be happy for, it is M. But I am cautious in my happiness. And very worried that she is even considering a h0me birth with a mid-wife. I won't debate the issues surrounding h0me birth; I don't care what you think. I want every single woman in the world to deliver in a fully equipped hospital, and be damned with "good birth experiences".

First babies are so hard for me. But I am happy that M. is happy. She has been the best friend that she could possibly be.

In other news, my event was last night, and it was a resounding success. I think that I can hold my head high over the work that I did, even comparing it to the technically superior work of the other guests. My confidence took a blow over the past two weeks, but I think I am slowly recovering.

Oh. my. god. was it a lot of work, though. Which is part of why I have been missing in action for so long.

But today the sun is shining and the warmth of the sun caresses my face. A good day to visit the cemetery, maybe.

I miss my boy.

A post a week?

2008-04-09T12:33:00.001-06:00

Life just doesn't slow down, does it? And all the waiting until "next week, things will be better" doesn't actually help anything.

Perhaps I shouldn't stretch myself so thin...

Congratulations Rosepetal!

2008-04-04T23:56:00.000-06:00

The best of news! Welcome, Beanie.

confidence

2008-04-04T12:58:00.001-06:00

I have always projected an aura of self-confidence to those who know me, but the reality is much more stark. It is a facade. It is a protectionist device. I am not so confident.

I don't cower in corners, but I truly struggle with the idea that I am not as good as other people. In many ways, it doesn't bother me. I am not as good an actress as Emma Thompson - that doesn't even register. But where I rank in my job, where I rank in terms of my favourite hobby - well, that's a different story all together.

I am currently working on an event related to my hobby. It will feature work of mine and work of other people who I have invited to partake in the event. It has been a lot of stress to plan and prepare for.

So the problem that I am having is one of confidence. I know that at least one of the other contributors is better than me - I knew that when I asked her to be part of the event. What I didn't expect was that she would have a certain snootiness about her. She has rejected my request that she submit the most challenging of her work and has instead chosen things that will appeal to my poorly educated (in her opinion, I assure you) audience. And through the course of it all, she has managed to injure my confidence in small, cumulative ways, such as explaining some of the most simple terminology to me.

She has a master's degree; I do not. She has made this her career; for me it remains a hobby.

The difficulty for me is that I don't know how to balance my complete understanding that she is better than me while keeping enough ego alive to put my self out there in front of an audience next weekend. It is my event, after all; there's no backing out now!I made my choice a long time ago to not pursue this career. Instead, I attempt to keep my passion alive by hosting these type of events. It isn't very helpful when what is meant to help me feel impassioned and alive instead makes me feel small and amateurish.

Don't get me started on how this woman popped out 2 baby boys with no problems, 2 hours labour for both, without gaining a pound or missing a moment of her fantastic, rising career.

Okay. So maybe I'm just jealous.

Trust me, I do.

2008-03-30T20:18:00.004-06:00

I don't know how the average 1 year old interacts with the people around him - my experience is limited to one child. But judging by the comments that every stranger on the street corner makes, BB is a particularly happy and socially engaging baby. He makes eye contact, smiles, and giggles for almost everyone he sees. It is an endearing trait.

Not surprisingly, most people make some comment regarding their own experience. The older generation with their "I remembers" I can easily tolerate. It does take a few minutes out of my day to make these trips down memory lane, but I can almost always afford the time. However, the comments from people who have children between the ages of 10 and 18 always cause me to pause and think. Generally, the begin with some complaint about their child's current behaviour patterns and they always finish by saying "Enjoy it while you can" or some near approximation.

I think I understand where they are coming from and I know it is just idle chitchat. But I am often tempted to say something to try to make them understand exactly how much I am enjoying my son.

I think we are blessed with an extraordinarily even-tempered child. Which makes our time together so enjoyable. I would have to be a hard-hearted bitch to not enjoy my son. How could anyone resist those baby giggles, so rarely interrupted by baby tears? I am certainly not so used to him that I fail to comprehend the magic of each breath he takes.

Yesterday we went swimming, just the two of us. Today we went to the park. He is my world and I am his. I fully and completely appreciate how brief this moment in time is. I marvel daily at everything that he is and everything that he is becoming.

I have my frustrations, but I must admit they are few. He is such a good-tempered, easy baby. Through no virtue of my own, I find my role as mother a (relatively) simple task. I know that will change, but for now I am wholly content as things are.

So I write my reply here: I am not missing his babyhood. I do not count the minutes waiting for him to be more independent. I am enjoying every moment of the person his is today. And tomorrow, when his cries of "DAAAAADDDDD!" wake me and wake his father at 6:30 in the morning, I will happily make room for him on our bed, wait for his father to bring him in, and securely gather his warm body in next to mine for his morning nurse. I will marvel at the little hands that play with my pyjama buttons and his stuffed animal as he nurses. And this will merely begin my day of wonder-filled moments. And the day after that? I know I will enjoy that, too.

I can still hardly believe he is here. The juxtaposition of his life to his brother's life constantly sends my mind reeling in disbelief. How is it possible that he is here and sleeping in the next room? But he is. He's my son and he's here to stay.

I can't help but enjoy him.

Possession

2008-03-25T15:17:00.002-06:00

I have a weird thing. I am upset by people who don't acknowledge C. I get more upset by people who over-acknowledge him*. Or something. I think an example is in order.

We went to the cemetery on Easter Sunday. And for some reason, I imagined that my MIL had been there and that she had been crying. Which is weird, b/c I knew she hadn't been there. But, whatever, the image popped in my mind. I was momentarily furious. That she would have the gall to cry over my son. And I feel the same way about some of things that my sister says about C. (I can't think of an example). But why????

It is such a weird combination of emotions - wanted people to talk about him and cry about him because he is so important to me, and feeling that something is being taken from me if the level of intimacy expressed is too high.

Do I just want people to feel sorry for me? I hope not. But there may be some of that in there somewhere. Is it because I am terrified at the idea of "sharing" him, since I have so little of him to carry with me? I think that is definitely a part of it.

But it is tiresome.

I had boundary issues when BB was born. I really didn't want other people holding him or talking about him in possessive terms (my grandson, or my nephew) or thinking that they knew what his little coos meant. Even now I have my little struggles when he is so happy to see his grandma (which is a good thing that I fully support, btw).

I just wonder if this is all a normal part of who I would have always been as a parent. If C. had lived, would I have felt these jealousies? They seem so small and petty. Is it an innate part of my personality - that I want to be all and everything to my children, with the rest of the world unnecessary? Or it is more than that; something that grew out of my grief?

There is no way to know where this comes from or why I feel this way. Just one more thing on my list of things I would like to let go of. I don't know how possible that is.

* This excludes my husband, of course. He is the only person 100% "allowed" to grieve for C. as much as I do.

Happy Easter

2008-03-23T15:55:00.000-06:00

To you.

Lifestyles of... me.

2008-03-15T16:13:00.003-06:00

Last night I organized our pen drawer. I went through about 300 pens/pencils, throwing out pens that don't work and sharpening all the pencils. Fun times on a Friday night.

Go and read Julia's post. You'll probably need a box of tissues; I did. I found this so moving. When C. died/was born, my niece was 5 years old. She idolized me. She always wanted to pet and hug my belly. I was so excited for her to meet her cousin and she was too. But because I am not her parent, I have not been the one to walk through the mess of emotions with her. Three years later, we have lost the closeness we once shared. I don't know if it was because she felt that I let her down, if she was afraid to be around me in case she upset me, or if it was natural for her to outgrow her auntie. Sadly, the relationship we once had with her parents has lost it's footing, too. There is a lot of pain in my soul for that loss.

Totally unrelated? I posted more pictures of BB on the other site (the first time since before Christmas). And video. Check him out - he is such the toddler these days.

The project

2008-03-13T21:18:00.005-06:00

When the wonderful Julian's Mom was kind enough to send me yarn in the mail a couple of summers ago, I wasn't ever sure what type of project I would make. I believe it was before the arrival of Natalie and just after the conception of BB... maybe. I wanted to make something that was kind of special and that would use the beautiful merino wool to best effect.

Fast forward to the past weekend, where I unearthed the glorious stuff in the grand moving-everything-to-paint-the-basement episode. And a road trip where I would have 10 hours in the car to stitch away.

Then I realized that what I wanted to knit required a different weight of yarn. After much consultation with my mother, I came up with this:

The ribbing on the cuffs and colar will be a aqua-white-orange strip. The body of the back will be orange. The arms will be white. The front will be aqua. And I think that I have exactly the right amount of yarn to complete the project, in each colour. If there is extra, a matching scarf might happen. Or mitts - I have never made mitts before...

Thank you a million times over for this yarn. I am having fun!

I think I am a nerd?

2008-03-13T14:00:00.002-06:00

Do you ever just need Bach in your life? I do.

Couple St. Matthew's Passion with an unhealthy dose of sugar/caffeine, I am starting to feel like a human again.

P.S. There is no excuse for sleep deprivation when your child goes to bed at 8:00 and doesn't wake up until 7:00 the next day. I will post photos of my new knitting project, though, so you can see what is keeping me up these days.

In Canada, it's called "English Meadows"

2008-03-12T16:01:00.005-06:00

Well, things have improved on the home front. We were away for the weekend, so the basement is still not quite painted, but it is half done. I don't like the colour. It is a green (click on the colour selector and find "Pastel Sage" on RC16 -it's close to this), and it looks too old. However, I am not finished painting the trim white and I haven't accessorized, so things may improve after those two tasks are completed. No matter what happens, I am not changing it. It is too much work. It will be whatever it will be. The general consensus is that greens are hard colours to find satisfaction with.

BB is finally well again and not coughing. We returned the nebulizer and I am happy to report that he settled into using it quite easily. He only cried the first few times.

I am struggling to keep up with work. It is difficult to put in hours of overtime when you aren't passionate about the work. It is okay work, I am just not excited about it.

I am also setting an important personal goal of being less snippy with my husband. He will be glad to read this, I am sure. When I get stressed out (which happens when the housekeeping is less that perfect - read: all the time), I sometimes take it out on him, unfairly. Perhaps it would be more productive to discuss housekeeping strategies or hiring a housekeeper rather than sniping at him. What are your strategies on this point? Or do you have one of those magical houses that keeps itself?

I may quit going to the playgroup that I used to love for BB. Basically, half of the women are pregnant and I just can't deal with it. The further I get away from BB's birth, the less I am able to handle pregnancy and pregnancy talk. I HATE IT, PEOPLE! I can hardly deal with the baby pictures I get in the mail from all of my cousins who are new parents. Purposefully subjecting myself to random strangers once a week at playgroup is nearly completely unbearable. If only I could create a new and better playgroup of people who are not and will not be pregnant....

That's it, that's all.

A Week of "Holidays"

2008-03-05T21:20:00.003-06:00

I am painting the basement. BB has a lingering cough from his MMR shot, which seems to be morphing into a full-blown cold. We are going away this weekend.

So. Tired.

I never get tagged

2008-03-02T14:46:00.002-06:00

Niobe wrote:

The rules are simple. Look up from the computer, look around the room where you're sitting and pick up the closest book. And closest really means closest. No cheating by running upstairs to unearth your pink-highlighted college copy of The Critique of Pure Reason or the Prolegomena. Open the book, turn to page 123, count down to the fifth sentence on that page, and then post the next three sentences.

and then she tagged me.

Thus:

GARDENIA, Cape Jasmine (Gardenia jasminoides) - 6'h - 2- to 4-inch, very fragrant, double or single, waxy, white flower in mid-spring through fall. Dark green, glossy, leathery leaves. Zone 8, full sun or partial shade; rich moist, acid soil. Use as specimen, in tub or border, or as houseplant in North - not as hardy as camellia.

Sounds wonderful, no?

Between this, the above average temperatures, and Rosepetal's beautiful photos, I am getting that itch again. And no, I wasn't rolling in poison ivy (its all still frozen here).

From the cold of zone 3b, I tag Rosepetal, Kate, Catherine, and Monica. Feel free to ignore - I rarely do memes (out of pure lack of imagination).

I guess you would call this an update

2008-02-28T19:46:00.005-06:00

I hate going a week between posts. The good news is that I am fine. The bad news is that my work laptop is not fine. It is as dead as a doornail. Hopefully, the tech people can save my files - yes, I am the idiot who hasn't backed up her files to the network since she started back to work. Oy.

We are well into toddlerhood here in our house. I am amazed each day at the changes in my boy. He has likes and dislikes (mostly likes, thank goodness). He is thrilled to discover new things almost every day. His poops really smell (thanks, solid food).

Is is getting boring for me to say that I still can't believe that C. isn't here? His life and my soul shattering grief feel like a distant dream. Then it all comes rushing back at me at the strangest moments. And because it moves away from me so often, the attack of grief it so unexpected that I almost don't know how to respond. For example, the other day I was reading through a list of current clients and happened across a person who share's C.'s name. Not really strange, considering that his name has been a traditional English language name for centuries. I have read his place in dozens of places in the past 3 years. And yet this time it almost levelled me -almost starting a torrent of tears that I wouldn't have been able to control (or explain, if someone walked into my office). And, as so often is the case, I sat there in bewilderment at the depth of emotion that I have trained myself to set aside for the majority of each day.

I am enjoying the PBS* series on Masterpiece showing film versions of the complete** works of Jane Austin. She has been my favourite author for years - I reread my collection at least once a year. This go round I am struck by the maturity of situation that I see in Persuasion. Simply, the main characters have a romance when they are young, are separated by well-intentioned meddlers, and have a second chance at love eight years later. I think this concept of the second chance is what I find so appealing. Anne, our heroine, now has the life experience to seize her opportunity at love without bowing to the expectations of others. She had to suffer greatly to gain this steadiness and resolve. And it turns out happily in the end (how could anything else happen in such a novel?).

I don't see particular parallels in my own life, other than the obvious suffering-one-dead-child-but-having-the-extraordinary-luck-to-raise-a-glorious-second-child thing (which I don't see as the same, what with not really getting a second chance - C. will always be dead, after all). I think what draws me to this story is the idea that we all should get second chances. I like that idea.

In her typical satirical fashion, Austin writes in the opening pages of the novel that if her character Anne had been afforded the chance to travel, meet new and interesting young men, and follow a happier life that the one she led in the intervening years, she would have forgotten her first love. The romantic in me (and admittedly, the bereaved mother in me) prefers to think that Anne would love Captain Wentworth eternally, regardless of situation. I like the idea that love, once nurtured in the soul of a human, can never be fully extinguished.

I am no scholar - so maybe my interpretation here is off the mark. But it is what I felt and experienced when I watched (then reread) Persuasion this time. And that has to count for something, right?

P.S. Isn't Rupert Penry-Jones (Captain Wentworth) delicious?

* I cannot explain why all of Western Canada has PBS Detroit included in cable TV packages, but we do.
** of course, the lesser early works aren't included

P.P.S. I can't comment on your blog, complicated mama. Wordpress hates me. Email me, okay?