Shields Up

This pregnancy I have become a master at defense mechanisms. Not by choice really, but it seems to be my standard operating mode- Full Shields Up.

I spent the entire pregnancy with Frostina being scared. Petrified would be a better word. I was sure that at any moment it would all go wrong again. I fretted and cried and fretted some more. I made myself miserable with stress and fear and worry. I'm not upset at myself about it because it was the only way I knew how to be pregnant after a loss. It was my standard operating mode.

This time around things are very different. For one thing, I have Frostina to chase around. Plus there's the international move, trying to find a new house, and getting my new life sorted here in Florida. I am busy and have much less time to sit around being scared.

But it's more than that I think. I think this time around I just can't be fearful the entire time. I can't be worried all the time that this baby will die. I barely survived a fear-filled pregnancy and I think I just can't do it again. So my smart little brain has figured out how to put the walls up and help me to focus on the rest of my life, not just the pregnancy. I have no idea how it happened or how long it will last. I may wake up tomorrow and feel completely different,,, and that's ok,,, but for now this is how I feel and what seems to be working for me.

A bit of the old me has crept back in. The old me that stayed away from sad and scary stories. The old me that truly believed that ignorance in some cases is bliss. The old me that actually allows myself to believe that being pregnant means you will be coming home with a living baby in the end. I'm not as foolish as the old me though. I do know that avoiding bad thoughts and stories doesn't protect you from having them happen. This time I am choosing to focus on the positive as opposed to hiding from the negative.

I have found myself shying away from many of my old haunts here in the internet. I am no longer drawn to every sad story of women who like me have lost children. Not because I don't care about them or don't relate anymore,,,, because I still do. But more because I don't need to connect to the pain of others the way I used to. There was a time when I craved that kind of affirmation, to know I wasn't alone. But now it all feels a bit too much, a bit too indulgent, a bit like I need to spend my time focusing on my life as it is now.

Trust me, this is not a happy, I'm over it now post. I'm so not over it. But I can't dwell on it like I used to. I can't let it consume me day in and day out. I have to do things like paint Baby Olea's room in the new house and go through Frostina's old clothes to see how many are suitable for the sunny Florida climate.

I have to move forward and live my life. And for now that means not dwelling so much on the past. Never forgetting my beloved son of course, but perhaps filing things away. Away behind the defensive walls, behind the shields. The way you put important things away in a very safe place you know you can revisit when you need to. Put away for safe keeping as opposed to being put in a frame sitting in your front room.

So Now Formula Feeding Your Baby Is As Bad As Smoking?

Is feeding your baby formula as bad as smoking? Are mothers who don't breastfeed causing serious harm to their children's health? Should baby formula packaging come with a warning label similar to the ones found on cigarette packs?

Sounds crazy right? But according to a report published by the charity Save the Children, that's all true and is exactly what should happen. I'm not going to link to them but you can look them and their report up if you want to.

I read through the report, not all 75 pages of course, but I did read it. I focused mostly on the section where they talk about the makers of baby formula. Here's what I gleaned from my read-through.

• The evil manufacturers of baby formula have to figure out a way to get women to buy their clearly inferior product. 
• They are competing with a product (breast milk) which is not only superior in every way, but is free. So they really have their work cut out for them.
• These evil companies are resorting to dastardly tactics in order to accomplish this goal. 
• These dastardly tactics include
• Advertising their products. (the horror)
• Giving free samples to midwives and new parents. (how dare they)
• Giving free gifts with the company logo to health care workers, i.e. pens, pads of paper, and such. (round them all up and throw them in jail now)
• Something must be done to keep these evil companies from promoting their "poison" onto new mothers.
• One reason something must be done is that these companies are offering something that costs money and many people don't have the money to buy this evil baby formula. 
• After all, breast is best.

So their solution? Require all breast milk substitutes to have a warning label stating all the reasons why feeding this product to your child is a terrible idea. This warning label should be at least one third the size of the packaging. That's right folks,,,, one third the size of the package.

A huge label that shouts, "You are a terrible mother/father if you feed this to your baby!" "If you feed this to your baby you will probably ruin his/her health for life!" "So you better pop that boob back out and try again, because if you can't breastfeed then you are damaging your baby forever!"

Ok, I'm sure the label won't say those words specifically. I'm sure they will be all official and much more scary. I also know that the result of those words will make Mothers like me, who were unable to breastfeed feel even more guilty and horrible than we already felt the first time we opened a package of formula for our babies.

Plus, baby formula packaging already contains a disclaimer that says breast milk is best and that formula is a breast milk substitute. In fact, on the website for the brand I use (Aptamil) you have to click a disclaimer that says, "Breastfeeding is best for babies and provides many benefits. It is important that, in preparation for and during breastfeeding, you eat a healthy, balanced diet. Combined breast and bottle feeding in the first weeks of life may reduce the supply of your own breastmilk, and reversing the decision not to breastfeed is difficult. The social and financial implications of using an infant milk should be considered. Improper use of an infant milk or inappropriate foods or feeding methods may present a health hazard. If you use an infant milk, you should follow manufacturer’s instructions for use carefully – failure to follow the instructions may make your baby ill. Always consult your doctor, midwife or health visitor for advice about feeding your baby." before you can even view what products they sell. So why the need for a bigger warning label? 

I know that this charity mostly focuses on women and babies in the developing world and I think a lot of the work that they do is pretty great. But the things they recommend should (in their opinion) apply around the world. Which means these warning labels would be placed on all baby formula packaging in the UK and Europe, and in America as well.

Reading through their report I learned that in some places women don't know they should try to breastfeed within the first hour. In some of these countries they think they should feed their babies all kinds of strange things. There are also cultural issues that prevent women who may want to breastfeed from doing so. So I get the focus on education and the idea that breastmilk is best.

I also read in the report that the baby formula companies are targeting the developing world as new potential customers. They seem to spin this as a travesty. My opinion is that if women in the developing world have trouble breastfeeding, like I did, then isn't it wonderful that there is another option for them? That instead of these babies being fed cow's or goat's milk, or something else that is unsuitable for newborns, they can obtain a formula that will sustain their baby?

If a woman can't breastfeed and lives in a place where no suitable breastmilk substitute is available then what happens to that baby? My guess is that he or she will eventually die of malnutrition. So what's wrong with advertising an available option that could be the difference between a healthy baby and a dead one? And considering that the slogan for Save the Children is, "No Child Born to Die," you would think that they would want families to have every available option to be able to feed their children properly. Instead, they seem to be pushing the "only breastmilk will do" agenda.

I don't normally get involved with what I consider to be controversial issues here. Partly because it's not really that kind of blog and partly because I don't always want to "stir the pot" or in any way contribute to the drama that surrounds these kinds of debates. Especially when the debate is about breastfeeding vs formula feeding.

My take is that people should do what works best for their family. Not every Mother can breastfeed, and not all babies can either. Some women opt for breast feeding only, some opt for formula feeding only, and some do a combination. In some cases these are conscious decisions, and in other cases there was no option. In my opinion, these are very personal decisions and it disgusts me when people get all high and mighty and preach that their chosen way is the only way.

So the idea of putting a warning label on baby formula that is at least one third the size of the package? A label that lists all the things that are wrong with feeding your baby formula? A label that will make parents who are doing everything they can to take care of their babies feel awful? A label that would have made me feel even more guilty and inadequate about not being able to breastfeed than I already did? A label that at the moment is only put on things that are poisonous? A label like the kind you find on a carton of cigarettes?

I don't think so.

Outing Myself On Facebook

No, I did not use this photo!

As the title says, I have announced my pregnancy on facebook.

I know many of you are shrieking in horror right now. You're probably thinking, "Not another smug, cheesy, annoying pregnancy announcement!" I can promise you that I did my best to make sure my announcement was none of those things.

I absolutely understand why many of my fellow Baby Loss Mom's and Infertiles are not huge fans of Facebook. It can be a source of pain for many of us. I myself have been known to hide all photos of friends on my list who have just had babies. But at the same time, I do love social networking sites. As someone who lives overseas, I find they really are the best way to keep in touch with family and friends back home.

The Hubby and I are working on embracing this pregnancy. Our little Frosty deserves to have parents who are as happy and excited for his/her arrival as we were when I was pregnant with our son. So in this spirit, I decided to go for it.

I wanted to make sure that my announcement didn't seem smug, cheesy, or annoying. I also wanted to acknowledge where we are in our lives with respect to this new pregnancy. To try and make people aware that while I still struggle with grief, I am also hopeful. I don't want anyone to forget about our firstborn or to think that now that I'm pregnant that everything is wonderful again.

In addition, I wanted to share the term Rainbow Baby with everyone and explain what it means. That's a lot to squeeze into a pregnancy announcement, but I was determined to make it happen.

It took me about a week to find the perfect wording. I searched the web high and low for just the right definition for the term rainbow baby. There are a few floating around, but none of them seemed quite right. So I took a few bits and pieces from what I found elsewhere, and wrote the rest myself. In the end I think it strikes a good balance of expressing my loss while still celebrating the new life growing inside me.

Here's what I posted.  

After every storm there is a rainbow, illuminating the clouds and bringing the color back into what was previously a gray and stormy sky. The beauty of the rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm, but instead offers the promise of brighter times ahead. It is for this reason that babies born after a loss are often referred to as “Rainbow Babies.” Today I would like to share the news that I am pregnant with what we hope will be our rainbow baby. There are days when I still feel like I’m in the middle of the storm, but I’m now dreaming of our rainbow who is due to arrive this June.

I know it's a bit long for a facebook post, but it was important for me to get this message out correctly. Hopefully I've done that. 

How Did I End Up In This Crazy Place?

I sit here at the computer with a clean house and a fully packed suitcase. Tomorrow morning I leave for the airport.

I'm off to the good old US of A where I am set to pick up frosty and bring him/her home with me. Not in a suitcase or an additional seat, but inside me.

It's such a strange thing to think that frosty has been waiting for me since he/she was fertilized in August. Sitting in a straw in a lab, just waiting to be defrosted and placed into my womb. I can't even describe the feelings I have about flying halfway across the world to have an embryo transfer. It seems so strange and very "jet-set."

I suppose it's not unusual these days, but if anyone had told me 10 years ago that someday I would be flying from one country to another to try for a baby I would have told them they were crazy. Because everyone knows that sex gets you pregnant. Unprotected sex without a care in the world results in an accidental pregnancy and a cute bouncy baby at the end.

At least that's the story they tell us. That's the story we see on TV programs and read about on the news. It happens to everyone around us, our neighbours, our friends, and even a few of our fellow classmates from the 11th grade.

It happens so often that we don't even think about it not happening.

We assume.

But for some of us things do not go quite as smoothly. We are responsible and use protection. We focus on our careers and being the best we can be. We get married and still we wait.

• Until we have enough money. 
• Until things at work are settled. 
• Until we can buy a house. 

And then when we are ready, we go off the pill and wait for our "accidental pregnancy." And we wait, and we wait, and we wait.

At some point we realize it's just not going to happen that way for us. So we start researching and asking questions. We make doctors appointments and are subjected to test after test. Some of us get answers, but many of us do not.

Unexplained infertility,,,,, will someone explain what the hell that is supposed to mean?

The rest of the journey takes us through uncharted territory. We meet with doctors we didn't know existed. We learn tons of medical terminology and jargon. We take hormones like they are candy, or like they are recreational drugs, or both. We hope and we pray and some of us get good news. Others of us hope and pray and get bad news.

In my case I got almost all the way to the finish line only to have my hopes shattered at 36 weeks by those 6 terrible words. "I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat."

But somehow, despite all the bad news and setbacks we manage to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and throw ourselves right back out there. To a place where we are so vulnerable and so desperate for a good outcome that we will try almost anything.

For me, this means flying across the Atlantic because the don't have a good donor egg program in the country where I live. It means expensive, long, last minute flights for transfers. It means adjusting my injection times to match whatever timezone I'm in. It means working with 2 fertility clinics, one here and one there. It means communicating with my RE and Nurse via email and long distance phone calls.

Some days I wonder how I ended up in this crazy place. Most days I'm just hoping it's all worth it in the end. The day when I not only get pregnant, but I stay pregnant, and I get to bring home a living baby at the end of it all.

So my bag is packed, my boarding pass is printed, and I'm ready to go. Because this is my life now, and all I want is a healthy, living baby.

Right Where I Am: Nine Months and Two Weeks

Thank you so much Angie for creating this project for those of us who have lost children to participate in. What a lovely idea, to have each of us write about where we are now in our grief. So that new people can get an idea of the experience of grief further down the road, and so people further down the road can reflect on how far they have come in their grief.

So here is where I am, 9 months and 2 weeks after my son died at 36 weeks. 

I know am doing better. Better than before, when my grief was an all consuming being. It is still there, but it is buried a bit. Peeking at me around corners, but most of the time letting me be.

There are still times when it pops out and surprises me.
Not wanting to be ignored.
Wanting to remind me that it is still there.
That it is still more powerful than I am.
That I have not gained control over it.

Most of the time I can manage it. I am able to enjoy things, and life, and my husband without feeling guilty. I understand now that while grief is a part of my life and probably will always be, it is not the only part of my life.

It's like an unwelcome house guest who has overstayed their welcome. I have learned how to get away from it at times. I have also learned that I need to allow it to spend some time with me as well. If I try and avoid it for too long then it will jump out and tackle me to the ground, demanding some quality time with me. So I do my best to keep a balance. Where I have my time for fun, and my time to be sad. Most days I do a pretty good job of it.

I am also very busy at the moment. They say not to have too many major life changes after a loss, but sometime these things cannot be helped.

I am grieving. In addition to grieving, we are also trying for another baby. In addition to grieving and trying for another baby, we are also having to find a new place to live. In addition to grieving and trying for another baby and having to move, we have found out that the hubby may be given a new project at work. It's a good thing, but it's another big change.

My plate is full. My cup is running over. I am doing my best to manage it all. It's a huge job.

Yet deep down I know I can do it. Because the one thing that my loss has taught me is that I can get through anything. No matter if I want to or not,,,,, I can.

Because I have been there. In that terrible dark place. That place where babies die unexpectedly. That place where it feels like the whole world has screeched to a halt. That place where no light can penetrate.

I've been to that place, and I have crawled back out. I'm back from that place, because I set my mind to it. Force, and will, and strength, and tears,,,, all coming from an inner power and an external support system I never knew existed. And yet they were all there for me when I needed them. So I know they will be there for me when I need them in the future.

So after 9 months and 2 weeks I can say that I have embraced my grief. For all it's ups and downs. I know there will be many more tears to come, and I'm OK with that. It's part of the process.

The Morning After The Night Before

First of all I want to thank all of you for your lovely and supportive comments to my last post where I talked about my regrets about not being able to hold my son after he was born.
 *If you are visiting from Pour Your Heart Out , welcome. I have chosen to share this post instead of the post that inspired it because of the subject matter. The post that inspired this one is truly me pouring my heart out, but I was worried that those of you who have not lost children may find it too upsetting. My goal is never to shock people or make anyone feel uncomfortable with my words. 

I have read each and every one of them over and over and am still amazed at the support I have received. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be so comforted by the words of people who I have never met I would tell them they were crazy. Now I know better. I am thankful to be a part of this amazing group of women. This sorority of baby loss moms. Not thankful that we have lost our children of course, but thankful that we have somehow managed to find each other through all our pain.

I woke up the morning after writing that post with a very strange sense. I had a hangover. Not from alcohol, but from crying. It was an emotional hang over. I stayed in bed for a while after I woke up, a bunch of questions swirling around in my brain.

Have I really been feeling this way the whole time? How is it possible that I didn't know I felt that way? Where on earth did all that come from?

You see, up until a few hours before I shared my feelings here, I had no idea I had them. Seriously! I had never given it much thought. I was sitting on my couch watching TV (a program that had nothing to do with babies or children) when BAM! It hit me out of nowhere.

It was the strangest thing. All these thoughts came flooding into my head. Flashbacks of his birth, regret, sadness, shame. It came on so quickly that at first I didn't even know what was happening. Then the tears started, the sobbing, the shaking, my body curling up in the fetal position.

It was as if someone or something had taken over my body. Something had released a valve or opened a tap and these feelings were just flooding out of me. I had hidden them well, even from myself. It's a special skill I possess.

So yesterday I did some things just for me. My husband is out of town for a few days on business so I can do whatever I like, and I did. Throughout the day I kept getting your lovely comments via email. Each one did a little bit more to lift my spirits. By the end of the day I was feeling much lighter.

Today I feel even better. I am relieved to have these feelings out in the open. Not just open to all of you, but open to me. I am still amazed that I was holding all these feelings in such a deep place that I wasn't even aware they existed. Now that they are out, I can deal with them. I can talk to my husband about them. I can find a constructive way to work through them. Perhaps a way that doesn't involve stuffing my face with cookies.

I can deal with them before we start this new journey of trying for another baby. The less baggage I can carry with me, the easier it will be. The healthier I can be both mentally and physically, the better the chances for a healthy pregnancy and a living, take-home baby. 

Taking a Day Off

I am taking today off!

"From grief?" you may ask hopefully. Now wouldn't that be a nice trick. No it's not from grief.

"From work?" you may ask. Nope, you have to have an actual paying job in order to take a day off from work.

I am taking the day off from my exercise and diet plan. That's right. For one day only I am going to pretend I'm not trying to lose weight and get in shape. For one day only I am going to be lazy and eat whatever I want.

Just for today, and then tomorrow I'm back on the wagon.

Yesterday I was not in a good place you can read about it here if you want to. I woke up in a bad mood and spent the entire day cleaning my house, doing laundry, and crying.

It was one rip-roaring pity party for one. Be glad that none of you were invited to attend. The end result was a clean house, a clean me (yes, I actually showered), and one very grateful husband. So grateful in fact that he even washed all the dishes after dinner so as not to mess up the freshly cleaned kitchen.

This morning I woke up with a better perspective. My house no longer resembled a war zone, and the laundry was no longer spilling out of the basket and onto the floor. It's amazing how a clean house can make you feel. But there was still the nagging guilt about my weight loss (or lack thereof) and the cycle of guilt it's causing. So rather than beat myself up about again today, I decided I needed a day off.

So I ate that croissant at my morning meeting. Then at lunch I allowed myself to have the absolutely decadent and decidedly naughty Croque Monseiur. Never had one??? Here's a photo of one.

Not exactly diet food.

It's basically a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with extra cheese and bechamel sauce poured over the top. Mmmmmmm. I also didn't exercise today.

Do I feel guilty? Not a bit. Which is a change because normally if I eat something bad (good) or don't exercise I beat myself up over it. But not today. Today I have the day off!

Back to School

I took a very big step this week. I went back to the school where I have been volunteering for the past 4 years. I've talked about the process that lead up this big step here and  here.

Thursday was the big day back. I have to say, I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I got to the school a bit early and stood outside just taking it all in.

I was going back. My mind was swimming with old memories. The last time I had been at the school was in June. I was heavily pregnant and really struggled trying to walk up all the fights of stairs in this old Victorian school. I recalled saying good bye to the children, being surrounded by them all in a group hug. Their small hands reaching for my bump to say good bye to my baby and hoping to feel him kicking. I had promised to send them an email once he was born to tell them his name and send them a photo. I never thought that I would be coming back this year. I thought I would be too busy with my new baby to be able to. "Things are so much different than I ever imagined," I thought to myself as I rang the buzzer to be let into the gate.

I nervously walked into the school. As I was signing in, the receptionist greeted me in a way that let me know she was glad to see me but was also quite aware of my situation. I felt a rush of relief knowing that everyone knew and I wouldn't have to field any "How is the baby" questions. I started to climb the stairs leading up to the classroom. The classroom is on the second floor of the school (which would be called the third floor in the US)  and there are no elevators, so it's quite a trek. My first thought was how much easier it is to climb the stair when you're not 6 months pregnant.

My anxiety level rose with each step. Was I going to be able to do this? Would I cry? Could I hold it together?

Twice I had to stop in the stairwell to take some deep breaths and compose myself. "These kids love me," I reminded myself, "and I love them. It's all going to be OK." So I took a deep breath and walked out of the stairwell and onto the second floor. Within minutes I was spotted by one of the kids who was on his way to the bathroom. I was greeted with a big hug from the happy smiling boy.

Moments later another student peeked her head out of the classroom. They had obviously been expecting me. The next thing I know I am being swarmed by a group of happy 11 year olds. They came running out of the classroom to greet me. Again, I found myself being surrounded by them in a group hug. It was a wonderfully familiar memory. I could see on their faces that they really were pleased to see me. I was happy to see them too.

The rest of my time that day went well. They all wanted to show me their latest art work and tell me about the books they are reading. They asked me if I was just coming back just this one time or if I would be coming every week. They seemed quite pleased when I told them that they would be seeing me on a weekly basis again.

Interestingly, none of them asked about my son. I was told that they were given a script of things that they could say to me, but none of them did. I suppose there will be questions down the line from some of them, and hopefully I will be ready to answer them.

I'm really happy that I took this huge and scary step. It has made me feel a stronger, and a bit more like my old self.

Six Months

Six months since you were born silently into this world. Six months. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday, other times it feels like it's been years.

I didn't forget about this day, but I didn't dread it as much as the 13th's of previous months. I am sad and I miss you terribly, but this month the feelings of grief are not as heavy on my heart.

I think I am learning how to carry my pain in a new way. At first it swallowed me whole. I was unable to do or think about anything but how much I missed you and how much I was hurting. My heart broke so completely that I was unable to handle anything else. It was all consuming, and blinding, and numbing.

But now it feels different. I still carry my grief, and my loss, and my pain. But I find that I am also able to be thankful, and happy, and excited about the future. I am able to hold my feelings in layers.

On the top layer is whatever I am feeling at the moment. I may be looking forward to a weekend away, or I may be tired from a hard workout. I may be laughing with my husband about something he said, or I may be sharing a funny story with a girlfriend over lunch. I may be feeling lazy, or procrastinating doing something I know I need to get done. I can do all these things now, unobstructed by my sadness.

But the sadness is always there.

It's on the bottom layer of my feelings. Like a base coat before you paint your walls, it is there always. It's the new foundation to my new normal. Some days the topcoat of paint wears thin and you can see the sadness and grief peeking out. But mostly, it gets covered up by the shiny new topcoat of paint.

From the outside you can't see it, but from the inside I know it's still there. It will always be there.

The two exist in harmony now. I carry this pain and sadness with me always, and yet it no longer stops me from experiencing happiness. Maybe this will be my new normal? Or maybe it's just a phase in my journey and tomorrow I will wake up to find myself paralyzed by grief again.

I hope not though, because this new way of layering my emotions feels like something I could sustain. It feels like a good way to deal with and acknowledge both sets of emotions. A way in which both kinds of feelings have a place and neither gets buried.

Six months from when you were born my precious baby boy. I love you and miss you and think about you every day. You were my first born and no matter what happens next, it was you who made me a Mother. I so wish you were here with me.

Things in Motion- Update

A few days ago I posted about my plans for the future. I was a bit nervous about taking steps forward as I've grown comfortable in this new world I've created for myself. But I took a chance and it paid off.

I received an email from the school where I used to volunteer and they are happy to have me back. In fact they used the word "excited" to have me back. Excited?? Wow! That makes me feel really special, especially since I'm just a volunteer, not a paid member of staff. So I'm really looking forward to going back sometime very soon.

The school only recently told the students about what happened to my baby boy. I can't imagine that was an easy thing to tell the children. I've been working with them for the past 4 years so they know me pretty well. They are in year 6 (the equivilant of 6th grade in the US) this year so they're old enough to understand what's going on.

I know they will have lots of questions for me and I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for what to say and how to hold it together. The last thing I want to do is break down sobbing in front of them. But I might do that so I've also got to be prepared for that.

But I'm excited. I really miss them and can't wait to go back and see how big they've all gotten. I haven't seen them since last June.

*On a completely unrelated side note- I've recently noticed some traffic coming from facebook. As I don't have a facebook page set up for this blog I'm super curious as to where it's coming from. So if you're here via a facebook post would you mind leaving a comment to share how you found me??? Thanks!

Setting Some Things In Motion

People keep asking me what I'm going to do next? I find this one of the hardest questions to answer.

What am I going to do now??

I had my whole year planned. I was going to have my baby and get lost in babyland. My days would be filled with feedings and nappy changes. My nights would be sleepless. I would be posting about my lack of sleep on facebook to annoy my friends and family. I was going to become an amateur photographer with my son being my main subject. I would join a playgroup and meet other women with babies the same age as mine. I was finally going to be a Mommy.

But then everything changed. Someone looked at the plans I had written on the chalkboard of my life and erased them. Just like that, with one swipe of the eraser my whole life plan was gone.

Since August I've been staring at that empty chalkboard. What do I write on it now? What do I want to do? What do I feel up to doing? Where do I even begin?

I've decided it's time to break out the chalk and start writing again. Not to fill up the whole board, but maybe just a small space in the corner. So I've set a few things in motion.

First, I finally contacted and joined my local Sands group. For those of you who don't know about Sands, it's a stillbirth and neonatal death charity here in the UK. They offer support for anyone affected by the loss of a baby and also promote research to reduce the numbers of babies who die each year. They are an amazing organization and I've been meaning to reach out and get involved. So today I did. I met with a lovely woman who told me about what my local group does. I'm looking forward to attending some meetings and meeting other baby loss parents.

Second, I reached out to the school I used to volunteer at (hence the chalkboard references above). When I lived in the US I was an elementary school teacher and really missed the classroom. So I found a local school that needed people to come in and read with the students. I worked there for 4 years and stayed with the same group of kids each year. I miss them terribly and have really wanted to go back. I've been scared to email the school for fear that they will say they don't want me back. I am afraid that they won't want to address my baby loss with the students. But I'm hopeful that maybe they will welcome me back. I am anxiously awaiting their reply.

I'm feeling proud of myself today. I know it's small steps, but they are steps forward, and that feels pretty good.

The Room

Our son's room. The room where he was going to sleep and play. The room where I was going to change him and feed him and rock him to sleep. The room where he was going to grow up. The room that had a future. The room that was going to be filled with joy and hope. What do we do with this room now? Now that there is no baby, no crib, and no rocking chair? This room is still empty and so is my heart.

Well sort of empty. The mattress from the old guest bed is still there leaning up against the wall. The paintings and mirror that once hung on the walls are on the floor. There is a blow up bed from when my Mom came to visit us after my c-section back in August. You see, this room was still in transition when we got the horrible news that our son had passed away. It was being converted from a guest room into a nursery.

So it sits there very much as it had been on that day. Frozen in time, a time where there was still going to be a baby and the old stuff needed to go. Unfinished, like my dreams of a successful pregnancy and happy family. A chaotic mess, the way I feel about myself a lot of the time.

But you can't freeze time, it goes on even when you don't want it to.

So what to do with the room? Do we buy a new guest bed? Do we empty it out? Do we leave it the crazy mess it is now? We did a lot of thinking and have decided to turn it into an exercise room. A fresh start for the room and a fresh start for us as well. One of the things we decided after our tragedy is that if it's just going to be the two of us then we need to get healthy for each other. If it's just going to be the two of us then we owe it to each other to live for a long time. So we're buying a treadmill and installing a TV in there. We'll keep the blow up bed for when guests come over from the US of course.

It's heartbreaking. This isn't what I had planned. I wasn't supposed to have to re-do this room until he was old enough to decide that the sports theme I chose was "too babyish." When he was too big for his crib and we were getting ready to move him into his "big boy" bed. I wanted my baby boy, not a treadmill. I wanted to be playing with him on the floor in that room, not doing sit ups on a yoga ball. I wanted a lot of things that I'm never going to have, but at least we're doing something healthy and positive.

Hopefully, some day I can write another post about how I'm having to convert our exercise room into a nursery.

Hopefully.

Hopefully

Please??

So I'm All Better Now,,,, Right?? No?? Well At Least My Hair Looks Good.

Today was our last appointment with our therapist and I'm left wondering,,, am I all better now?

My husband's company has a pretty great benefits scheme which includes grief counseling. They found and paid for a certain number of sessions with a psychologist who lives very close to us. It's not a benefit either of us knew about, but the fabulous folks at the HR department set it all up for us. All we had to do was show up.

Now I have my Bachelors degree in Psychology but up until now I've never actually done any kind of therapy. So even though I have knowledge of what psychologists do, I was still pretty unsure of what to expect during our sessions. I know my husband didn't know what to expect because after the first session he said he didn't think our therapist was any good because she didn't tell what to do, all she did was sit and listen to us talk. I got a pretty big giggle out of that one. You gotta appreciate how men just want to cut to the chase and get the answers fast. So I explained that therapy is a process where we work through our feelings with the guidance of the psychologist and then he got it.

I think that our sessions have really helped us. They allowed us a safe place to talk about our son and how much it hurts that he is not with us. Therapy has also facilitated a lot of talks at home. We have done a pretty good job of sharing our feelings with each other, both in and out of our sessions. I think we both have a better understanding of how each other is coping with our loss and what we can do to support each other. We have a long road ahead of us and we're taking each step together. And we're both open to future sessions if we think we need them at any point going forward.

After the appointment I went to the hair salon for much needed color and highlights. I'm not normally one who lets these kinds of things go as I've got a bit of a vain streak running through me. Roots and straggly ends are not my friends. But the holidays really took it out of me this year and for the first time in memory, I let myself slide on the grooming front. I'm still a bikini wax and a pedicure away from my usual self, but the hair was a great start to my transformation. I love the feeling of walking out of the salon with shiny bouncy hair. It's like being a kid on the first day of school with your new school shoes on. As I walked home I felt like a new woman. A happy one.

So am I all better now? Not even close. But at least my hair looks good!

Why Did I Start This Blog?

So what first prompted me to start this blog?? That's an easy one, I decided to start blogging when I lost my son. But it wasn't as simple as that really.

I was a total stranger to the blogging world. I knew about celebrity blogs like PerezHilton.com because I am a sucker for any kinds of celebrity news. I knew a couple of friends who had blogs, but mostly they were designed so that friends and family who lived far away could see what they were up to. I also had a friend who was setting up a blog to help promote a new business idea she had. But it never occurred that the blogging world was one for me.

One day I was having lunch with a new friend who as it turns out is in the publishing business. She was telling me about her job and the writers she works with. I was sharing my grief  with her. It was at that moment that she asked me this question.

"Do you write?" she asked. My answer, "Well I update my status on Facebook." She said, "You should start a blog about what you are going through, it would be really good for you to get your feelings out."

I was very hesitant at first. I've never been a diary kind of gal and the idea of writing about my innermost feelings and then releasing them for the internet to see is a pretty scary one. I had flashbacks to the 12 year old me when my little sister showed my diary to our babysitter who was two years older than me. In it I had written about a boy that I liked and this babysitter knew him. Total humiliation. So I told her no, I didn't want to write a blog because I was a very private person.

But the idea stuck. Maybe I should start a blog? Maybe getting my feelings out on paper (so to speak) would be good for me? Maybe it would help me heal? Maybe it would help me feel "normal" again.

The idea brewed in my head for about a week. It was the week before we we were flying home to see the family for the first time since losing our son. It should have been a happy trip, one where we were introducing our infant son to our family. Instead it was a trip home with his ashes. A trip to have his ashes blessed instead of having him baptized. It was going to be one of the hardest trips of my life.

And that's when I knew that I needed to write. Not for anyone else to read necessarily, but for me. I needed a release, I needed an outlet. I needed a blog. So I wrote this post about how hard it was to pack for this trip, the one that should have been for 3 people but was now just for 2.

And I haven't looked back since.

Yes, We Are Having Christmas This Year

Yes, we are living in a different country than our family. Yes, we have to stay here in the UK because of my husband's job. Yes, we are still wrapped in a blanket of grief since losing our baby boy. And YES, we are having Christmas this year!!!

To be honest, we both really need it. It's been a rough road these past four months. A road full of tear-filled pot holes and gut wrenching speed bumps. It is dark and grey in London and the short days make me want to curl up in my bed and never go outside. But early on, I made a promise to myself. I promised that I would not let this tragic event become what defines me. Yes, I have lost my first and perhaps only child; and yes, I am devastated. But I absolutely cannot allow myself to become trapped in time. Christmas is here, and I love Christmas. So we are choosing to celebrate it in the best way we can.

I will be sending out Christmas cards this year. Not the usual, "The expat life is great and here's some photos of all the fabulous places we've been on vacation this year." cards that we often send. Not the, "Look, here we are with our new baby." cards I had hoped to be sending. Instead I chose a very classy black and white card with gold trim and a single black and white photo of us. Color photos just didn't seem appropriate this year. There will be no message other than Seasons Greetings and our names. Things are different this year and our cards will reflect that.

A couple of nights ago we decorated our house and tree. We played Christmas music like we always do. We also lit our son's candle. We bought two special ornaments for our son. One is of a baby boy in a blue stocking, the other is a heart that says, "In our hearts forever." Both have his name written on them. We put his ornaments up on the tree first. Then we took a few moments to express our sadness. We both cried and held each other for a while. Then we kissed and continued to decorate our tree. It looks beautiful. We also decided not to put the angel on the top of the tree because we want to leave room for our angel to come and visit. So I suppose there is an angel on the tree, just not one you can see.

I know based on reading the blogs of other baby loss moms that what we are doing is not what everyone would choose.  I completely respect and understand why for some people, the thought of celebrating a holiday is too unbearable to even comprehend. I had those thoughts as well. but ultimately we decided that the right thing for us was to go ahead. As tempting as it was to not acknowledge Christmas this year, there's something about coming home to the smell of a tree and a house full of Christmas decorations that always makes me smile. And I really need to smile these days.

It feels almost normal. In fact, it feels a lot like a new normal.

Speaking your mind feels great!

I should speak up more often! It feels great and if you don't let people know they are upsetting you then how can you expect them to change their behaviour? Actually, it is yet to be seen if any future behaviour will change, but a girl can dream right??

A few days I posted this about an exchange with my sister that really upset me. After our conversation I think she sensed something was wrong and sent me an email asking if I was mad at her.

Now normally I would respond that everything was fine because I don't like confrontation. But this time I was so upset that I felt she needed to know about it. With nervous anticipation I sent her a reply telling her how selfish I thought she had been. As is typical, she overreacted and got very dramatic. After a few very wordy email exchanges I think she finally gets my point. Not that she has accepted acting selfishly (that would be a miracle) but she acknowledges that what she did hurt me and she has apologized for that.

As someone who normally runs away from any type of conflict this was a big step for me. Maybe peace at any cost really isn't the best motto. Maybe I need to grow some balls and speak up more often, it sure felt great!