All Hallows Eve

Tomorrow.

So sad.

Why?

I was so excited that Halloween of 2004, walking through the local Walmart, forcing myself not to buy the little pumpkin costume that was winking beguilingly at me. I don't know what size to get, I thought, and convinced myself to wait until next year, when I knew how big he would be.

There was no Halloween costume next year.

The cyclical nature of our lives leaves a date/time stamp on the psyche, whether I like it or not. I had to stop today and figure out why I felt like bawling - even though I was holding the cutest little Monkey at the costume party. And there it was. No big brother to pull the Monkey's tail.

I wish my brain didn't work like this.

What kind of f------d up mother looks at the latest photos of her baby and thinks "That one would be a really good one for a memorial photo. It really captures his personality."

This kind of mother.

Oy.

I uploaded more pictures.

Just when...

... I start thinking that it is time to jump off a cliff, if only to end up in the hospital for a few days of sleep, Baby has a decent nap.

What a sporadic good/bad sleeper I have on my hands.

All I could think of while I rocked him to sleep today was: SO WHAT if sleep experts think babies should fall asleep on their own. Even though my bad back is getting worse, even though I don't get anything done, and even though I am just as often resentful of having to put him to sleep - I get to hold his beautiful, sleeping little body in my arms and rock, rock, rock. Love, love, love.

Only about 90% of the time does my mind wander to another little boy who might have liked to rock.

Is it possible for the soul to burst with love for two boys; one very much the light of our lives and one the gaping hole in our hearts?

Quite possibly the cutest baby in the entire world.

Just to clarify, I am not about to drop my drawers, shanghai my husband, and make a baby. Just getting ready to think about making a decision to board the roller coaster again. Because any pregnancy in this house still would qualify as A Very Big Deal.

Now, though I have mentioned that BB is indescribably cute, I feel that I must attempt to describe it anyway. Here's the thing: everywhere we go, people stop in their tracks, stare, and exclaim in tones of disbelief at how cute he is. They inform me that he has dimples and that he has teeth (because I most certainly hadn't noticed on my own). "How adorable! Is he always this happy?" they query. (Yes). They wax poetic at the blondness of his hair and the blueness of his eyes and the chubbiness of his hands and the sweetness of his expression. He flirts and he charms everyone he sees.

I almost feel guilty for not having tried to make him the next G*erber baby.

I have become convinced that he really is as cute as I think he is. Because I am, of course, his mother - thus, completely prejudiced on this particular subject. His grandmother agrees with me.

P.S. I added some video at the other site (you must email for the location). Please comment. I think that much of the cuteness is personality. It is hard to capture in a picture...

Ready? Twitching...

Up until now, there has been no real necessity to make a decision. I wasn't ovulating, therefore, no need to choose a date.

I look at this incredibly perfect and indescribably cute boy that we have created and I know with a vast amount of certainty that there is going to have to be another child in this house. And I realize that there is only one way for us to get there.

Despite maintaining a public facade of having misgivings about the issue, my mind is actually made up. There will be another child. And I think that my husband would agree on that point - but we haven't spent a lot of time discussing it. No ovulation, no need to discuss.

Naturally, I would prefer children close in age. Which implies that we shouldn't allow too many more eggs to go gently into that good night. Considering our history of "13th try's the charm", we will likely face a year or so of trying, anyway.

33 months and one successful subsequent pregnancy are having an insulating effect from the terror that I would expect to feel at the prospect of procreating again. We now need to decide when we feel that the timing would be right (and the comfort level high enough) to start walking this harrowing path yet again.

Maybe this is just the luteinizing hormone talking.

How the heck did we get here?

I am ovulating. And we are not going to do anything about it.

Weird.

Words for October 15th

What follows is the reflection that I shared on Saturday. I thank Julian's Mom for the Robert Frost poem. I will take down this post soon, so that no one who heard me speak will be able to link me to this blog.



[Email me for the text]

Remembrance

Yesterday we went to our annual Walk to Remember. I cried more that I think I ever have at one of these functions. I am more of a private cryer. I spoke - through a surprising haze of tears. I might post a copy of what I said if I work up the courage...

Candles lit for C., for Julian, for Nicolas, for Stewart, for these twins, for these twins, for this baby. And one for every other baby that I read about, think about, and care about his/her parents. Frankly, if I lit a candle for every baby that I have held in my heart, there wouldn't have been any left for anyone else to light.

Sarcasm

To the person who ran this search and arrived here:

Soooo sorry we couldn't help you with that.

I feel sick.

Random

We have been awfully busy around our house. BB just finished his first set of swimming lessons, we went to visit family for the Thanksgiving long weekend, and I have reread the whole Harry Potter series.

Today I had to fill in a form for BB's music class.
"Child's Position in the Family: ____ of ____"

I put "1 of 1". Didn't feel like putting "2 of 2 but his brother is dead", for some reason. It took a lot of thought, though, before I filled it in. What do I want to do, where do I want to go with this?

I am starting to find myself feeling more frightened that BB is going to die in his sleep. I don't know why this is happening now - perhaps his preference for tummy sleeping? I don't know. It isn't very much fun, though.

Comment this weekend: "How nice we can all be together for Thanksgiving. It is just sad that Grandpa Bob couldn't be here - he is the only one missing!" Ummmmm?

BB looks so like his brother. A blessing and a curse.

I wish I had something more profound to write.

Elation?

After a week of sitting for hours a day in a darkened nursery, trying Method A mixed with a little Method B and a hearty dose of Advice-From-Mom-Who's-Been-There, it may be possible that I have cracked the sleep code.

I refuse to say more on the grounds that I may jinx it.

What the hell am I going to complain about if not times and measures of sleep??? Oh well, I am sure I will find something....

The Odds

This weekend, disaster struck again and my other cousin's wife miscarried. It seems that both brothers will be marking that April due date in the same way.

I sent a care package of books and a sympathy card to Cousin A. I will send a sympathy card to Cousin B tomorrow. I don't have more books to send, so will have to ask Cousin A to pass them to Cousin B when they are done with them.

I wish that I could say that I am surprised and shocked. But, like it or not, I live in a world where the surprise comes when a baby lives. I am so sad that my cousins now know this sorrow. I much preferred feeling jealous of their naivete to sharing in their sorrow.

Reminded again how fairness has nothing to do with it.

Does this make you swoon?

It does me. It will look gorgeous in with my hydrangea (assuming she survives the winter). Phlox 'Sherbet Cocktail'. Sounds as yummy as it looks.

Did you know phlox will re-bloom if deadheaded? See what a little hail will teach you?

It's the best game you can name...

We went to a preseason NHL game this week. It was great fun. I put a couple pictures on BB's photo site. It was not BB's first NHL game (we went as a family last year, but he was still in utero), but his enjoyment was a little easier to see this year. Also, this game was played in a city near us, rather than on home ice, so the travelling portion was a little easier. And, due to BB's unlimited cuteness, he was given one of the game pucks by a linesman. Too cool.

Why do some people feel it is okay to disrupt everyone around them with rude comments and loud, obnoxious behaviour? Irritating, but it was funny to watch BB give her dirty looks... my eight month old has a better sense of propriety than this 20-something.

Disappointingly, Our Team didn't win - but it is just preseason, right? We have tickets to see Our Team play the Arch Rivals in a couple of months. This upcoming game is in their home rink. I am dying to watch BB's reaction to the game in that exciting atmosphere. Our seats aren't nearly so good at this game, but I hope he will still be able to see enough to be involved in the on-ice activity.

It was fun - worth missing a nap and bedtime*. It feels so good to be able to have fun as a family. I couldn't imagine this a year ago. Sooooo good.


* We are pretty fortunate that BB gets hysterically giddy when tired, not fussy. He laughs and squeals and jumps and claps. Then he might whimper a bit, then back to the hysteria.

More loss for my family

My favourite cousin (paternal side) and his wife (SAHM) had an ultrasound on Friday that told them she was carrying twins. Saturday she miscarried them. She was around 10-12 wks. I just feel sick about the whole thing.

Firstly, I know the anguish they must be feeling. Her two previous pregnancies were fraught with pre-term labour angst. Their youngest (my shadow child for C., a month older than he would have been) has struggled with major breathing problems and has been hospitalized frequently. I know that my cousin was reluctant to try another pregnancy, but his wife was determined. I guess I can't blame her - I know what it is like to feel like your family is incomplete. I also understand his point of view - he likely felt like they were pushing their luck.

Secondly, as soon as the line turned pink, there was a message for all to see on Facebook. Every single one of her over 150 "Friends" would have read her status that she was "excited to be expecting their 3rd child." So now she has to somehow un-tell all of those people (plus anyone she told IRL). She either deleted or locked her profile instead. I certainly know why she did that. I wouldn't want to un-tell 150 people, most of them passing acquaintances or people from high school.

Thirdly, I am certain that both of their kids knew that Mommy had a baby in her tummy. They maybe even knew that they were expecting two babies. Now they face the horrible task of trying to make a 2.75 year old and 4 year old understand that they aren't going to have any new babies in the house.

Finally, my cousin's brother and his wife are expecting their first child. The brothers were really excited that their children were due in the same week. Cousins almost exactly the same age! Now the younger brother will probably bring home a baby from the hospital that week, while the older brother thinks of the babies that should also be there. Another shadow child for our family.

I tried calling my cousin's wife this afternoon, but there was no answer. We aren't really close, but we get on well enough when we are at family gatherings. I was going to offer to send her my collection of pregnancy loss books. I don't know if she wasn't home or didn't want to talk to me. I am a talker; some people don't want to "talk about it".

So I feel like I am caught - knowing that there is nothing to be done, but desperately wanting to do something. This is the first loss in my generation of our family since C. died. My cousin and I were once as close as two cousins possibly could be. Time, teen angst, and the boy/girl interest gap changed that, but I still love him as much as I did when I was 7 or 8 years old. I want to help him and his family if I can. I know that sending books in the mail isn't going to make anything better, but it would feel like I have done the very little that I could.

I hate this sh*t.

A shout out to the Universe

A very happy gal am I. M+S's baby J arrived in the wee hours of yesterday morning, a healthy 7 and a half pound baby boy. After two previous losses and a difficult struggle with PCOS (getting diagnosed, then getting treatment), not to mention the gestational diabetes, this is an absolute miracle. M doesn't read here (nor does anyone else who would relay the contents of this post to her), but I must have my shout out to the Universe. Finally!



Now, to resist buying everything in the baby department and carting it all to her hospital room. Instead, a vote... which colour should I get her for little J?

Waiting

My RL support group friend is currently undergoing an induction of her 3rd baby. God-willing, her first living child. It is very distracting. I am quite desperate for good news.

In the mean time...

My mom keeps offering sleep "advice". She doesn't know what sleep techniques I am trying (and I honestly don't want to explain - it would not turn out well), so she thinks that I am making self-defeating decisions. I have resisted the urge to suggest, in the spirit of offering unsolicited advice, that she quit eating like a pig and she might lose that weight she keeps complaining about. Wouldn't it be cool if I had a functional relationship with my mother? I don't.

I attempted to find a quiet moment to discuss the problems of low-fluid and cord compression with Jen, the pregnant woman in the mom/tots group. Unfortunately, she is a larger-than-life person who does not regularly seem to experience quiet moments. I am not sure where to go with this. I guess I will continue to wait for an opportunity to talk with her and pray that all goes well, regardless.

I find myself feeling panicked when I imagine BB as an older child. I imagine that some of that feeling is related to typical "my baby is growing up so fast" angst. But, I realized today that imagining BB as an older child forces my brain to grapple with the continuing reality that C. will not reach those ages or milestones. It never ends, people. I just don't bawl my face off much anymore.

BB looks like a toddler now. It is so amazing and frightening, all at the same time. I love him past the point of coherent description. If I could, I would pause my life during our daily game of "Kisses and Cuddles". Baby giggles, inquisitive hands searching my face, laying on our bed, sweet milk breath, wet kisses, squirmy arms and legs. Perfection.

Electioneering

Are you from Ontario, Canada? Please read this and follow Aurelia's advice re: lobbying.

Thanks!

Stuff 'n Rambles

He just passed the one hour mark in his nap. Glory be. Please let this be a trend. The whole sleep thing is still kicking my butt.

We start swimming lessons next week. I can't wait. We ended up in the tub together this morning after an explosive diaper incident and BB played and splashed and generally had a good time. (Hey, I wonder if this accounts for the longer nap - bath then bedtime. Does he think it is nighttime? Do I have to bath him before every nap?).

I took him to a mom/tot playgroup yesterday. So fun. It is amazing (if a little sad, considering) to see how much he loves watching the older kids play. Soon, he will be mobile enough to get right in there. He is doing that army-crawl on his tummy now.

Whilst at the playgroup, a very pregnant mom-of-three was discussing her current pregnancy. She had what she referred to as "dry births" with her other two (oligohydramnios, no doubt from her description). Both of those pregnancies went post-term and the babies were 10 pounds+. Her doctor has no plans to induce until at least 10 days past her due date (current Canadian guidelines, she says). Listening to her talk, she is annoyed (because of the continuing discomfort of late pregnancy), but not afraid. I felt sick listening to her.

Should I have interjected, telling her that C.'s death due to cord compression was probably as much to do with the oligohydramnios as the cord around his neck? Should I have told her that lack of fluid presents a real danger relating to cord compression? Should I have told her the warning signs of cord compression? Should I have tried to convince her to insist on a BPP to verify fluid levels and continuing NSTs if they are on the low side? Should I have told her that she has to do regular BPPs, because fluid levels can change without warning? Should I have told her to lie to her doctor if she had to (telling him the baby hasn't been moving much) to get these tests?

Because those are the things I know and those are the things I would do.

I didn't say anything. How do you yell "danger! dead baby alert" across a crowed room of playing toddlers and obliviously, sweetly niave moms?

I will just hate myself if something bad happens. I wonder if I can talk to her about it next week. I know it isn't my responsibility, but I feel the weight of my knowledge like an anvil around my neck.

I guess I don't trust doctors as much as I pretend to when it comes to pregnancy.

Mommy's fault?

I am just not quite keeping up with my blogging. On the other hand, my house is semi-presentable, no one is threatened by piles of laundry toppling over on top of them, and several snuffly noses seem to be on the mend. So, all in all, not a loss of a week.

Sleep issues abound. Currently coping by doing some co-sleeping. Trying to do that as safely as possible.

However, the other night, nothing would comfort BB. He went to bed at 7:30, but was up again several times. At 10:30, I tried everything. NOTHING. Not pacing, rocking, or (the sure-fire solution) nursing. So, I popped him in the sling and presto! he was immediately calm. It took but 10 minutes of combined pacing and rocking and he was out.

So there I sat, in my rocker, in the dark thinking why didn't I think of this sooner? Worked like a charm? I hope he is comfortable; he barely fits the sling anymore. I hope he can breathe okay with his head in this position. He sure seems settled. etc.

In this midst of this self-congratulation, I realized that I could no longer hear him breathe (he has been kind of wheezy with this cold).

At that moment, I knew I had killed him. Knew it. There was no moment of fear; it was the full rush of responsibility for my child's death, planning the funeral, the aftermath. It took no more than an ear to his face to hear his little breaths, but the damage to my psyche was done. He was fine, actually breathing better than he had in a week. I was not. I bawled.

Apparently, I am harbouring a very powerful fear-of-killing-my-child phobia. Jeez, wonder where that comes from.


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P.S. Email if you need the photo site link again.