17 Weeks And In Denial

I had my 16 week check up last week and all is well with little Baby Olea. My doctor has a small portable ultrasound machine so even on non-scan appointments I get to see her. It's always nice to have a peek to see how she is doing. Especially since I have an anterior placenta this time around so I hardly ever feel her moving around.

Does anyone have experience with anterior placentas? Will I feel less movement the entire pregnancy? Or just in the beginning?

On the way home from the appointment I realised just how much I am still in denial about being pregnant. When I was pregnant with Frostina I could barely sleep the night before any doctors appointment because I was absolutely sure I was going to be told bad news. I would stress for days before each scan.

This time, not so much.

Denial is a funny thing I guess.

It's easy to be in denial at this point. I'm in the just showing/could be getting fatter phase of pregnancy. I'm still wearing lots of my pre-pregnancy baggy sweaters so most days if you didn't know you would be afraid to guess. It's only on days when I'm wearing my maternity tops that it's more obvious.

Not really being able to feel Olea yet contributes as well. As does the fact that I have Frostina to chase around and keep my mind occupied.

I do have a few reminders that snap me out of my denial. The no-booze thing for one, and then there's the list of foods I can't eat. At least I'm remembering about them.

Oh, and I'm obsessing about baby names. I'm hoping that once we decide on her name that this baby will feel more real.

Perhaps this denial is a defense mechanism. I was so incredibly fearful during my pregnancy with Frostina that maybe my brain can't do it again. So instead it pretends to "forget" I'm pregnant so that I won't be so terrified this time. Either that or I'm just too tired chasing Frostina around to obsess like I did last time.

It's quite a strange phenomenon though. Though if experience serves me well, I'm sure it's one that will pass soon and the panic and fear will set in. So maybe I need to enjoy it while it lasts.

The Pregnancy **After** The Pregnancy After Loss

A lot is written about pregnancy loss and almost as much is written about pregnancy after a loss. I've done quite a bit of writing about it here and on various other pregnancy loss blogs, grief blogs, and on BlogHer about this very subject and I've done a bunch of reading on the topic as well. I suppose you could say I've become a bit of an expert on the subject. Not that this a subject that anyone wants to know intimately, but sadly that's how things have happened for me.

We hear about the shock and horror of the initial loss and the complete and utter devastation it leaves in it wake. We cheer for these women as they struggle to pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and put the pieces back together.

We read about their subsequent pregnancies with trepidation. We leave encouraging comments for them and wish them all the best. We wait with anticipation for them to be blessed with their rainbow babies. Those amazing and precious babies that come after a loss. We are so relieved for them when we know that they have finally had their "happy ending."

But what about the pregnancy after that?

I've just begun to navigate my way through the pregnancy after the pregnancy after loss. I wasn't expecting it to feel any different than my previous pregnancy, but it does. Last time around my experience was that every time I get pregnant, my baby dies at 36 weeks. I had no other alternative in my head. My only experience of pregnancy was of tragedy and loss.

I now know what it feels like to have experienced both sides of the coin. One pregnancy where my baby died and my life was shattered. Another pregnancy where my baby was born alive and healthy. One ride home from hospital with empty arms crying into my husbands chest. And another pregnancy where I rode home with my beautiful daughter and struggled to figure out how to get the car seat to latch into the car.

Last pregnancy I was "sure" that things would go wrong. This time I'm more hopeful. I'm less fearful. I'm able to think ahead and start looking for double buggies (strollers). Not to buy one of course, because that would be tempting fate. But at least I've allowed myself to do the research. You have no idea what a big step that is. If you've been around for a while you will remember that I didn't allow anything in my house for Frostina until after she was born.

It's not all goodness and light though. I certainly haven't reverted back to the person I was during my first pregnancy. The person who just knew that once I had my 12 week scan and all was well that I was for sure going to be bringing home a healthy baby in the end. I know all too well that there are no guarantees in life.

I know full well that even if you are a Baby Loss Mom, you don't get a free pass for all future pregnancies. One of my fellow BLM's just had her baby after her rainbow baby and it was not all smooth sailing. She had some complications right near the end that nearly resulted in another terrible loss. If it weren't for her absolute insistence that something wasn't right, and her brilliant doctor who followed her gut, things may have ended badly. Thankfully, all is well and she was able to take her beautiful daughter home with her.

I have a 50/50 history with pregnancies, which is much better than the 100% fail rate I had last time. I know those odds still look pretty grim to those of you who don't live in a world where babies die. But from where I'm sitting they offer hope. I have now lived the happy ending, and I want it again. More importantly, I believe I can have it again. That's a huge mind set change from last time around.

I have no idea if I will feel this way throughout this pregnancy. It's entirely possible that as Baby Oleo's due date approaches, all the old fears and paranoia will return. All I know is that this pregnancy is different than the last one, and I feel differently about it. It will be interesting to reflect on just how different it is as time goes on.

Have any of you been through this? If so, how did you feel during your pregnancy and how was it different than the one before? Oh, and what do you call the baby after your rainbow baby? Are they a rainbow baby as well?

A Strange IVF Cycle

I apologise for the lack of posts about my IVF cycle. For some reason I'm having a tough time expressing my feelings about it. Not just here in this space, but in real life as well. I'm operating as if I'm not really doing this.

As if I'm not actually injecting myself with hormones that make me crazy tired and crazy emotional. As if I'm not a week away from getting updates on my donor's progress. As if I don't have a schedule that includes an estimated embryo transfer date.  As if I don't have to fly to the US for transfer in a few short weeks. As if we're not putting all our hopes and dreams into this.

Because we are, and I am.

But for whatever reason, I'm not allowing myself to focus on it too much. I don't know if it's because I'm just too busy with Frostina, or if it's something else. All I know is that I want it just as much as when we were trying to conceive my son, and as much as when we were trying to conceive Frostina. I just can't bring myself to think about it too much.

It's strange.

Not So Far Away After All

Lately I have been feeling like my son is very far away. I don't mean my grief. My grief is never far away, even after over 2 and a half years. I mean that I feel like he is far away. Slipping into the background. Slipping into the shadows. Like he's somehow getting lost in the hustle and bustle of normal life.

Far away from my everyday thoughts. Far away from my everyday life. I still think of him every day, but it's different now. Now that my everyday thoughts are filled with Frostina. My everyday life is full of taking care of her basic needs. Feeding her, changing her, washing her bottles, washing her clothes, taking her places,,,, it is all consuming.

Which often leaves little space for him. So he gets pushed back. Away from my everyday life. Until he feels so very far away.

But then something small happens, and he's back. Right there. Front and center. As if he never left the middle of my heart. As if there was never anything besides his loss in my life.

This time it was a simple comment made by someone who had no idea what she was saying. Something she probably says a million times a day without even thinking about it.

I take Frostina to Gymboree classes (which she loves by the way). The current term is about to end and they are running a special if you sign up early. You get a discount and four free classes. I was asking the lady if the four free classes are part of the normal term, or if they are four extra classes on top of what you normally get. The woman explained that they are above and beyond the normal term. Bonus classes she tells me.

"You can either use them for her, or if she has any siblings you can let them have the classes."

If she has any siblings.... if she has any siblings. That sentence echoed in my head. If she had any siblings, like let's say her older brother who died before he was born. If she had an older brother who she could play with instead of just hearing his name. An older  brother who could actually play with her instead of just being able to play with the teddy bear that was meant for him.

If she had a living brother, then he could use the extra four classes.

But she doesn't, so I guess she will just have to use the classes herself.

I was overwhelmed with sadness. Her far away brother, the one who I feel is fading away, will never be able to use her extra Gymboree classes. He can't play any active role in her life, because he isn't here. And I was reminded just how sad that makes me.

I'm sad that I will never know him. I'm sad that The Hubby will never know him. But I'm even more sad that Frostina will never know him.

The tears came and I did my best to fight them off. I mean seriously, who cries at Gymboree? It took a few minutes but I eventually won the battle with my tears. And I'm pretty sure no one noticed, or if they did they were too polite  to say anything. 

That's when I realized, maybe he's not so far away after all.

So,,, Are You Going To Try For Another One?

To try for another baby, that is the question.

It's the question that The Hubby has been asking me since Frostina was a few months old. It's the question that friends and family are starting to ask now that Frostina is almost 8 months old. It's the question that I have been asking myself.

It's the question I don't know how to answer.

Would I like another living child? Of course I would. If they just walked around passing out healthy babies I'd grab one in a hot second. If The Hubby and I could just live our lives and "see what happens" and get pregnant with little or no effort, I'd probably take a chance.

If our firstborn son hadn't died in utero at 36 weeks and my subsequent pregnancy with Frostina hadn't been filled with panic and fear, I'd start trying again today.

But that's not how things work for us. Well actually, the first part doesn't happen for anyone... unless there is a place where they just knock on doors and give deserving families healthy babies... if so I'll move there tomorrow. The way things work for The Hubby and I is much more complicated.

Trying for another baby would be a very deliberate process. A process we would be walking into knowing exactly how it would work. Knowing exactly how hard it would be. Knowing exactly how it feels when things work out. And knowing exactly how it feels when things don't work out.

I know exactly how it feels when things don't work out. The tears when my period comes after a failed cycle. The extra hormones and severe cramping that come along with it. The feeling of failure and hopelessness. Having to work myself up to try another cycle, trying to stay positive, trying to imagine that it will work the next time.

I also know exactly how it feels when a cycle does work, and you get pregnant. When you buy baby things, pick out names, and have a baby shower. I know exactly how it feels to get to 36 weeks of pregnancy and have it all taken away with 6 little words, "I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat." I know just how hard it is to pick up the pieces and move on after a blow like that.

And pick up the pieces we did. We took a chance and after jumping through a lot of hurdles, we now have our little baby Frostina. She is the joy in our hearts and we wouldn't have her if we hadn't been willing to take a huge risk and leap of faith. I can't imagine my life without her and I don't regret for one moment all that it took to get her here.

But to do it again? I don't know.

After over 10 years I'm finally a parent to a living baby. That emptiness and yearning and desperation that comes with wanting a living child and not having one has been filled. Yes, I'm still infertile,,, but for the first time in a very long time I'm not obsessing about it. My life isn't dictated by my cycles and medications and exams. I no longer worry about when my period comes or if CD-whatever falls on a Sunday when the clinic would be closed.

For the moment I am free of all that. Free. Freedom feels wonderful.

Do we want to try again? Do we owe it to Frostina to give her a living sibling? Or are we happy being a family of 3 plus an angel?

I don't have any issue with raising an only child. I am not one of those people who think that only children are somehow damaged by not having a living brother or sister. But in my pre-infertility and loss beginnings I always pictured myself parenting two children. Notice how I say parenting. I do view myself as a mother of two. It's just that I only get to parent one of my babies.

If The Hubby and I were younger I would take a few years and see how I feel. But we're not young, and even though we will use an egg donor again, we don't want to be too old when a future potential child is born. So there is a time constraint in place, a deadline of sorts. He wants to know by the time Frostina turns one.

So now I've got to decide if I'm ready to jump back on the infertility wagon. Ready for the injections and cycle dates. Ready for the chance of another living baby. Ready for the chance of another loss.

The chance of another loss is where I get stuck.

These are all the issues we had to deal with before getting pregnant with Frostina of course. Only this time things are different. This time there isn't as big of a hole to fill. This time we already have our rainbow baby. So maybe we should just enjoy her and cherish her. Maybe we should thank God for giving us Frostina and move on with our lives. Maybe we shouldn't risk it again, tempt fate again.

Should we try for another baby?? I have no idea at this point.

The Reality Of This Baby

As I've written about in my previous posts, I've really been all over the place emotionally since Frostina was born. At first I thought it was just normal baby blues and it would pass. Then as time went by and my feelings of overwhelming anxiety continued, I realized that maybe this wasn't something I could take care of on my own.

My first attempt to reach out didn't achieve the results I had hoped. I asked my OB (consultant) who told me that this was completely normal for someone in my situation with my history. I knew this didn't seem right so I didn't stop there. I reached out and was connected with a lovely therapist who not only has an office near me, but is willing to make house visits. Considering that Frostina is only 2 months old, a counsellor who is willing to come to me is amazingly convenient.

I had my first session with her this week and got a lot out of it. It was really nice to have someone to talk to about the jumbled up mess that is going on in my head right now. I realized that I really need to be in therapy right now. We had grief counselling after our son died and I found it amazingly helpful. We had a session with a therapist as part of our egg donation program. But since then we haven't had any kind of therapy.

In hindsight I'm not sure this was the greatest idea. We endured our entire pregnancy after a loss with no professional help. The time when you would think we would need the most support, we decided to go it on our own. I did consider it a few times, but just never got around to setting anything up. So all those fears and anxieties just built up inside me.

The result? A new Mommy who really needs therapy.

I've only had one session so far but here's what I know. I don't have post natal depression, but I do have lots of anxiety left over from my traumatic past that I need to work through. The birth of Frostina has brought back so many feelings surrounding the birth of my son. The comparisons between the pregnancies, the comparisons of the births, and the glaringly different outcomes.

Even though I have grieved my son, those feelings are still there, and having Frostina here with me just highlights how much I missed out on with him. The sleepless nights are real now, not imaginary. She has become the center of our household in a tangible way, while he was always only the center of our thoughts and dreams. He was and always will be the fantasy of a baby, his life unfulfilled, while she is the reality of a baby.

The reality of a baby. A baby who cries, and has colic, and cries some more. A baby who doesn't adapt to my idea of a schedule and won't go to sleep on demand. The reality of a baby after 2 years of dreaming about my fantasy of a baby. A fantasy baby who probably would have been very much like his sister if he had lived.

I have learned that I need to set aside my fantasies and deal with the reality of this baby. I have to allow myself to enjoy her and live in the moment. To stop trying to control everything and keep on top of all things. To not be so hard on myself. To relax more and to stress a bit less. Because she is her own little person who will exert her own will. Who will eat and sleep on her own schedule, and that's OK.

So that's what we're going to be working on in our sessions. The reality of this baby. This baby who is alive and here with us. The reality of this baby and everything that goes along with it. The fun parts and the challenging parts. The reality of this baby who we have wanted more than anything, who we love more than anything, and who has brought an amazing amount of joy and happiness to our family.

Maybe I Have Colic Too?

Frostina has colic.

It's not the worst case of colic I've ever heard of, trust me I've heard some stories. But it's distressing nontheless. She cries and screams and just won't settle. Usually it happens around 7 or 8 at night and can continue until midnight. It's not every day, although we have been on a 3 day streak.

I've read all the books and tried a bunch of different things to help calm her. Nothing seems to work except holding her close, walking around, and waiting until she finally wear herself out and falls asleep. By this time, The Hubby and I are also exhausted and we all fall asleep. After an episode of colic she sleeps very well and wakes up the next morning in a great mood. As if the events of the night before never happened.

It's strange watching your happy baby suddenly transform into a unhappy fussy little person. It's frustrating when there's nothing you can really do to fix it for her. We don't know the cause and we really can't fix it until she gets a bit older and grows out of it. Until then we just have to learn how to cope with an unpredictable baby.

I can relate to Frostina's mood swings because I am having them myself.

I'm not sure exactly what is going on with me. Is it normal baby blues? Is it post natal depression? Is my period getting ready to start again and I have PMS? Whatever it is, my hormones are still not settled and as a result I swing from feeling totally happy and in love with my baby to totally exhausted and feeling like I can't handle another night of crying.

I have noticed that my moods have a timetable of their own. I wake up each morning happy and fresh. I feed Frostina with enthusiasm and we enjoy our time in the activity center and swing. We go out for walks and sometimes meet up with friends. The two of us are a happy pair.

As evening comes, something changes. I find myelf feeling tired and riddled with fatigue. Not just physical fatigue, but emotional fatigue. It is at this point where my doubts and insecurities start to kick in. My mind fills with questions and doubts.

Did I do everything right today?
Did I give her enough tummy time?
Did I give her enough stimulation via music and the activity center?
Did I cuddle her enough?
Why didn't I manage to give her a bath today?
Is it ok to let her sleep in her daytime clothes or should I be switching her to pajamas?
Is it bad that I haven't figured out a bedtime routine yet?
Should I be reading books to her?
Am I a good mother?
Am I doing a good job?
Am I doing everything right? - I seem to be obsessed with doing everything right.

Exhausted with this list yet? I know I am.

This list of questions and doubts (and lots more) starts floating around in my head. Am I a good mother? Does the fact that I doubt myself make me a bad mother? Does the fact that sometimes I wish there was someone else who could swoop in when she's crying and make it all better make me a bad mother? Don't get me wrong, The Hubby is amazing and a huge help, but sometimes (especially during her fussy colicky moments) all she wants is me.

As the evening turns into night and these doubts and worries have had a chance to stew in my head I start to get anxious. Anxious that she will be colicky again tonight. Anxious that it's my fault that she's so fussy and won't settle. Worried that she will cry until late in the night and I won't be able to get enough sleep to make it through the next day.

This anxiety and worry exhaust me and I get to the point where all I want to do is go to bed and sleep. Of course, this isn't possible during a night of colic because no one could sleep through the crying. So I often find myself crying right along with her.

The worst part of it all is that I get mad at myself for feeling this way. After all, she is my rainbow baby. When we lost our son I longed for sleepless nights and dirty diapers. I always swore that if I was ever lucky enough to have a rainbow baby I would embrace it all. I swore I would never complain, because a fussy baby is always better than a dead one.

So I beat myself up for being ungrateful. How can I have a moment of unhappiness about Frostina when she alive and here with us?

She's my take home baby. The one I prayed for. The one I wanted more than anything in life. So how can I reconcile the fact that sometimes I just wish I could escape from all the crying? Not ever to escape from her of course, but sometimes I just wish the crying fairy would come in and calm her down and get her to sleep.

Last night I had a talk with The Hubby about my moods. He's a bit worried as well. Neither of us can figure out exactly what it is or how to deal with it. So for now we're taking it day by day and hope that in time it will go away.

That's when I realized that my moods flux just like Frostina's. We both wake up each morning happy as can be and get fussy at night. So that's when it hit me. Maybe I have colic too?

Peeking Into The Moses Basket

Having a newborn baby around is a lot of work. People tell you this all the time, but until you've got your own at home you don't actually realize the impact of those words. The constant vigilance, the lack of sleep, and the general worries of new mothers are all consuming. They run through your mind even when the baby is sleeping soundly.

Each day is much like the last.
Change the baby.
Feed the baby.
Burp the baby.
Hear a loud rumble and realize you need to change the baby again.
Get the baby to sleep.
Have that internal debate with yourself while baby is sleeping. Do I sleep too? Wait, I've got to wash the dishes, or send birth announcements, or shower, or eat, or go to the bathroom,,,, this list goes on and on.

Finally you make a decision on what to do. Whatever your choice, you do it in a rush while constantly watching your baby to make sure she's still alive.

That's right, I said still alive.

Because at the moment that's my main worry with Frostina. Will she still be alive when I next peek in on her? I creep up to her moses basket a hundred times a day. Each time hoping that she will still be with us on this earth. Just as I'm about to take a peek these thoughts rush through my mind. Will she be breathing? Will she be blue? Will she be white? Or will she look a healthy shade of pink?

Will she look dead like her brother did when I saw him? 

Will she be dead like her brother was when I saw him? 

Unless you've seen a lifeless baby you probably can't imagine what I'm talking about. But if you have,,,, like I have,,, then your greatest fear is that you will have to see that again. That vision of your beloved baby, lying still with no life in him is something that never leaves you. It's a vision that I try to push out of my mind, and yet every time I peek into the moses basket I worry that it's exactly what I will find. I know every new mother worries about her baby, but when you've lost one that worry increases by a million percent.

So I'm hyper vigilant. I'm on constant alert. Watching, listening, worrying, and then doing it all over again. I've been getting these headaches on a daily basis. Headaches brought on by tension. I've been noticing that I'm never fully relaxed. I seem to have constant tension in my shoulders and in my jaw. Even when I'm doing mundane things like washing bottles I notice that I have to remind myself to relax my body. Remind myself to relax my mind and try to quiet the thoughts that are racing around in it. Such a feat to calm the mind and the body, a feat I'm not always successful at.

So I'm working on trying to live in the moment, and enjoy what I have, and not worry so much. I hope that in time I will be able to peek into the moses basket without fear. Or that like my grief, I will get better at living with the fear as time goes on.

But for now I will continue to peek into the moses basket, and wish for the best.

Joining in with Shell today over at http://thingsicantsay.com/2012/07/pour-your-heart-out-long-nights.html

Overjoyed

I am overjoyed.

I know I've already told you this, but I think that's the best word to describe how amazing it feels to finally have Frostina in my arms. I can't think of any other way to describe it. So I won't, I'll stick to overjoyed.

The Hubby and I are overjoyed. This little girl has brought back a feeling of happiness and contentment that I think we both thought we had lost forever. When she was born she came out screaming,,, a beautiful sound,,, and The Hubby and I instantly burst out into tears too. So there we were, the three of us in a chorus of crying. We were surrounded by doctors and midwives and nurses and yet were were alone together in that room. In that special moment it was just the three of us.

The song we were singing was one of pain and loss and relief and joy all at the same time. It's amazing how much tears can communicate. Our tears on that day were a release of two years of grief plus eight years of the pain of infertility. That's ten years of struggling before we have finally been blessed with a living baby. So as you can imagine, there were lots of tears to be shed.

I'm overflowing with love for this little girl. Every morning when I wake up I have this strong need to hold her. To ensure myself she's real. Once I get her in my arms the tears flow. I cry one of those ugly snotty cries. Not because I'm sad, but because I'm so desperately relieved and happy she's here. If she were awake during this time I'm sure she would be wondering what her crazy Mommy is doing. But thankfully she sleeps through my sobs and my tears falling onto her face.

When I look at her little face I feel at peace. I think for the first time since we lost our son I can honestly say that I am able to feel joy again. Real joy and a fresh hope for the future. Please don't think I've forgotten my son who looks down on us from heaven. I haven't and never will. But I think he would want me to be able to feel happiness again. And for the first time in a long time, I think I'm going to be able to.

What On The Hubby's Mind

Today my amazing and fabulous husband posted his feelings about our daughter's upcoming birth on his facebook page. I am 36 weeks pregnant and we are one week away from her delivery date. Frostina has officially outlived her brother now, a fact that is both joyful and bittersweet. We're thrilled for her and yet so desperately sad that things didn't work out for him.

Reading his words today touched me so much for so many reasons. I am removing the names and sharing it with all of you because I think it's such an important reminder that husbands lose babies too. So much focus is on the women and how we're doing. People want to know how we're coping and often the men are pushed aside and forgotten.

We should never forget that men grieve as much as we do. They feel the loss just as much as we do. There is a club of Baby Loss Dads out there who deserve as much support and love as we Baby Loss Moms get. So without any further chatter from me. Here's what was on The Hubby's mind today.

What's on my mind.....1 thing....1 WEEK TO GO!!! After more than 10 years trying, disappointments, medical opinions from LA to SF to London and Washington, to the ultimate joy of my wife getting pregnant on xmas eve 2009 and then the ultimate loss of our son, through this 2 year journey of grief followed by new hope........we are down to 1 WEEK.....to meet and hold our little girl.

Right Where I Am: One Year, Nine Months, & Two Weeks

For the second year I am participating in a special project for Baby Loss Moms. Angie over at Still Life With Circles has established a link up where we can talk about where we are in our grief right now. I haven't read any of the entries yet because I wanted my thoughts to be unclouded, but when I'm done with this I plan to head on over and read them all. I encourage you to do the same.

I participated last year and when I'm done writing this post I will go back and see where I was a year ago. But I want to get this out first before I take that stroll down memory lane.

Right Where I Am: One Year, Nine Months, &  Two Weeks

I'd like to be able to say that I'm all better now. That once you get past the first year that things somehow get easier, but that's not really the case. In lots of ways I still can't believe I made it through the first year. All the anniversaries and milestones, each one more difficult than the last. But somehow, The Hubby and I managed our way through.

We managed our way through what is probably one of the most difficult and painful things a couple can go through with our marriage intact. In fact, I'd say that our marriage is stronger than it ever was, something that I am eternally grateful for. We have learned to communicate in a way that we probably didn't before. We didn't need to know how to share our greatest fears and deepest sorrow before, because our life had not been touched by tragedy. But now it has, and we have figured out a way to come together and ride the storm as one.

This past year has been a busy one. I am currently 35 weeks pregnant with our rainbow baby. This pregnancy has not been easy emotionally. Being pregnant again has brought some of the memories of our son back into my mind. I'm constantly living with flashbacks to when I was pregnant with him, comparisons between this pregnancy and the last, and all the what ifs.

What if I had been more vigilant with him?
What if I had been more closely monitored?
What if they had noticed he wasn't growing properly?
Could we have saved him?
Would he have been OK?
How would I have managed being pregnant with a toddler?
Would he have been a good big brother?

All this and more. All questions that I will never have answers to.

I'm having a very difficult time managing my fear during this pregnancy. Especially now since I am at the point where we lost him. I am constantly afraid that she will die too. That she will stop moving. That something horrible will happen and we won't make it to the hospital in time. That somehow she will be ripped from us just like he was. Every scan and every doctor appointment I am prepared for the worst.

It's not how I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to be blissfully happy like I was last time. I want to feel that innocence again. That unspoiled joy. A joy that hasn't been touched by tragedy and pain. But that isn't my story anymore. I am a baby loss mom who is lucky enough to be pregnant again. I know firsthand just how horribly things can go wrong. I know this and somehow I need to manage the strength and faith to get through the next few weeks.

If I survive with my sanity intact and my baby still alive then that will be one huge accomplishment.

So where am I now? I'd say overall I'm better. The pain is still there of course, but it lets me have more good days than bad. It comes back every so often to remind me it's still there, but then it lets me get on with my life. I know I will never be over this, that I am forever changed.

I am forever changed and it is up to me where I go from here.

I'm Tired Of Being That Woman

I feel like crying is all I do these days.
I cry about this and I cry about that.
I'm so tired of crying.
So tired of being "that woman."

The one who is sad.
The one you can't say certain things around.
Censoring your words.
Not bringing up things in front of me.
Like new babies.
Like Mother's Day.

Tiptoeing around me.
Because I'm damaged.
Because you might make me cry.
Because you don't know what to say.
Or how to act.

I'm so tired of being that woman.
The woman you feel sorry for.
That you want to reach out to.
Because it's just such a sad story.
Because I'm having a hard time.
Because you're secretly relieved it happened to me instead of to you.

I'm tired of being that woman.
But she is me.
I am her.
Desire does not erase the reality.
Will cannot change the facts.
It is who I am.
Like it or not.

Midnight Meltdown

I've been battling with insomnia again. I know it's normal in late pregnancy, but for me I think it's something more than that. You see, we are now at the point in this pregnancy when everything went wrong for my son. I know I've written about this before and don't want to sound like a broken record, but it's really hard right now.

Flashbacks to my last pregnancy.
Comparing things as best I can.
Remembering.

It's all a bit too much at times. Each week closer to week 36 (when we found out he was gone) is like the exact reverse of waiting for Christmas morning. Logic tells me that there's nothing special about any of these weeks, but fear and emotion sometimes take over and I'm a total mess.

So many milestones to get through before we can hold a (hopefully) living breathing Frostina in our arms. We already passed the 32 week mark which was the last good scan for my son. We had a very positive scan which I wrote about here. Just passing that milestone was a huge relief.

The next one is 34 weeks. I didn't have a scan at 34 weeks last time, but I did see my doctor and heard my baby boy's heartbeat. It's the last time I know for sure he was alive. This time I'm having a scan at 34 weeks so I can be much more sure that Frostina is OK.

Then I have another appointment with my doctor at 35 weeks. Not a full scan, but a normal visit. He has this small portable ultrasound machine so we will get to see her then as well. This is really important to me as we know that my son went to heaven sometime between week 34 and 36. We don't know exactly when, so that whole time will be one huge grief trigger--- sounds fun doesn't it.

It's these things and more that have been spinning around my head lately. These fears and worries that have been keeping me up at night. I wasn't sure I'd ever sleep soundly again, until a few nights ago. The Hubby is my best friend and he's also really good at knowing when I'm about to meltdown. He has this second sense of when I'm about to lose it. He sometimes knows before I do.

So the other night I was getting ready to hit the bed and battle with sleep once more. He came in and asked if I wanted to talk about anything. I said no but the tears immediately came. A flood of fear, and emotion, and tears, and snot all came rushing out at once (pretty). I have been so worried that I will let him down again. That something will go wrong with Frostina and I won't even notice. That somehow if I'd been more vigilant I could have saved our son.

It went on and on like this for a while. I'm pretty good at blaming myself for things so there was a lot to get through. The Hubby just held me and assured me that I didn't let him down last time around. That we both did the best we could and that there was no way to know there was anything wrong. He also reminded me how much more carefully we're being monitored this time and how much better Frostina is doing than her brother was.

I cried for a long time..... and then I slept. A hard sleep, only interrupted by the 4 potty breaks I have every night these days. Since then I've been able to sleep like a baby, I even took a nap yesterday. I guess I really needed that cry!

Finding Hope In A Bikini Wax?

All the way back in September when I was coming off a failed IVF cycle and just about to begin another one (the one that worked) I wrote about finding hope in a replica of one of the chimneys from the Palau Güell in Barcelona. Then just this past February I wrote about how hope has been creeping into my life without me even noticing it.

I seem to get these flashes of hope when I least expect it. They come out of nowhere, just like the horrible flashbacks I sometimes get. These flashes of hope are the exact opposite of the flashbacks of pain and despair. A yin and an yang of emotions. For a long time I only got the negative flashbacks, but now it seems that hope is doing it's best to bring balance to my grief. So even though these flashes of hope come at at the strangest of times, I'm trying my best to embrace them. Because they sure are a lot more pleasant than the painful ones.

This time around they came in the form of a bikini wax. Yes, a bikini wax. That modern day form of torture where we lay on a table with our legs akimbo and allow some sadistic spa employee to apply wax all over our nether regions and then rip out all the hair. Although I must say that after everything I've endured in the way of infertility treatments, a bikini wax can seem like a walk in the park. 

Not an actual photo of me.

Anyway, it's been a while since I've had a bikini wax (I'm sure you really wanted to know that) so I knew this one would be a bit more painful than normal. A fact that I wasn't entirely thrilled about. I entered the room, undressed from the waist down and assumed the position. In anticipation of what was to come, I was slightly nervous about just how much this was going to hurt. Frostina, feeling my anxiety, started to kick and move around.

It was actually a nice distraction to watch my belly dancing around while the woman was applying and ripping off the wax. She thought it was funny as well so it gave us both something to chat about. Even when I had my eyes closed, I could still feel Frostina wiggling around like crazy. It made the whole experience much more enjoyable, well as enjoyable as waxing can be. 

On my way back home I was struck with a thought. I had many bikini waxes during my pregnancy with my son. Right up until a week before we lost him in fact. In all that time I don't ever remember him moving around during a wax. Not once.

That got me thinking about a question The Hubby has been asking me lately. He wanted to know if I think Frostina is more active than her brother was. I've never been able to answer that question because to be honest, I really don't remember. I was so blissfully happy after my 20 week scan and so sure he would be born alive that I really didn't pay attention to his movements. 

I think that's why I didn't notice when they started decreasing, or when they stopped completely. Because it wasn't something I put any focus on. Because it wasn't important. Because of course he was going to be born alive. I had nothing to worry about.

So this was a direct comparison. A comparison between Frostina and her older brother. One that I could vividly remember and compare properly. I was caught by surprise when Frostina kicked during my waxing because this was something her brother never did. Which means that she must be more active than he was. 

A comparison that gives me hope!

And if she's more active than he was then that must be because she is healthier than he was. More specifically, her placenta must still be hanging in there. Because the reason my son didn't make it was due to being starved of nutrients and space by his placenta. He couldn't move around as much because his placenta was failing. So if Frostina is so much more active then it must be because hers is fine.

We've been having Frostina and her placenta monitored very closely this pregnancy with nothing but positive feedback. But I've still had lingering doubts and fear. After all, everything was fine with my son,,,, until it wasn't. So I'm not entirely reassured by good feedback.

But Frostina kicking me like crazy during a bikini wax, something her brother never did, was different. Even though it's nothing that can be measured by science or medicine, it felt more real to me. It felt like proof that she is in fact better off than her brother was. That perhaps she is going to make it out of my body alive and healthy.

And that my friends is how I found hope in a bikini wax!


*Image from here.

She Has A Name

After months of negotiations we have finally agreed on a name for Frostina.

Our methods this time around were very different than with my last pregnancy. With my son we had this idea that we didn't want to make the final name selection until after we met him properly. Our goal was to narrow the list down to 2 or 3 names and then choose based on what we could see of his personality after he was born. We didn't share our options or ideas with anyone because we wanted to do the big "name reveal" after we made our choice.

As we all know, things went horribly wrong with my last pregnancy at 36 weeks. Once we were told that he no longer had a heartbeat, everything happened quickly and in a blur. After he was born the midwives asked us what his name was. There was silence from both of us. He didn't have one yet, we had wanted to meet him first. We wanted to match his name to his little personality. Except that we would never know what his personality would be, because we were never going to be able to meet him properly. Because he was already gone and everything about him would always be a mystery.

I was devastated and embarrassed to have to tell them he didn't have a name yet. So they just called him baby boy and our last name. They said they could update things once we made a decision.

No one should ever have to choose a name for their dead baby... I'm just saying.

We agonized over the decision, but finally made our choice. Once we picked his name we then had to go about the business of telling people. I found this task so very difficult. Everytime I tried to say his name out loud my throat would close up and my eyes would fill with tears. In the end, we decided to email his name to family and friends because saying it was just too hard. Too hard because we never said it when he was alive. We never got to address him by his name when he was still with us. So in the beginning, his name was a source of pain.

We didn't want it to be like that this time. So we used a very different strategy. We both did a list of our favorites and then each eliminated names off the others list that we didn't like. When we got the list down to 15 or so we started "road testing" them for one day each.

It's amazing what doing a road test can do to a name. I found that some of the names I thought I would love just didn't feel right, even after only one day of using them. This process got us down to a final four. With the final four names we extended our road test to a week for each name. At the end of the fourth week, it was decision time. Luckily, we both agreed on what name felt best.

So that's it! Decision made! We've already started calling her this new name and she seems to like it. We haven't told the family just yet but plan to sometime very soon. Because I don't want the first time anyone hears it to be after something terrible has happened. I want to know that no matter what, she is her own person with her own name... a name that everyone already knows.

**I do feel slightly bad writing about name selection and then having to break the news that I'm not actually going to reveal it here. It's a bit mean I suppose, but this being an anonymous blog and all it wouldn't really work if I started talking in real names now would it? So for the purposes of this blog she will always be Frostina.

Sorry about that.

Which Tree Are You Today?

I saw these two trees today and was struck by their stark contrast.

The tree on the left is filled with beautiful baby-pink flower buds. Some have already bloomed and the rest are just about ready to open. This tree is full of life, and hope, and possibilities. It has welcomed the spring with open arms and an open heart.

The tree on the right has no flowers on it. Instead, it's blood red branches are holding sturdy pine cones on them. This tree has endured a tough winter and is still standing strong. It is showing the world that it is not going to be defeated, that it will be beautiful again someday. There is pain in this tree that it is trying not to show to the world, instead it projects strength.

Two completely different trees and yet there is a sense that they belong next to each other. The harshness and sharpness of the tree on the right balanced out by the softness and blooms of the one on the left.

There are some days when I feel like the tree on the left. This tree is a flashback to my life before loss, a life when bad things didn't happen to me. In my early grief I thought I would never feel that joy again, but as time has gone on, I've allowed my happiness to blossom a bit.

Most days though, I still feel like the tree on the right. Battered and scarred, but still holding my head high. Trying with all my might to retain my dignity and grace even on the worst days of the storm. Waiting for the day when I will be beautiful again.

How about you? Which tree are you today?

Two For The Price Of One- The Mother's Day Special

When you move to a new country you probably don't think much about public holidays. I know I didn't when I first moved here to England. After all, they're part of the culture of your new found homeland. They are a celebration, and everyone loves a celebration,,, right? Well, not always as I have learned.

You see, while Father's Day is the same in the UK and in the US, Mother's Day is not. So I have not one, but two Mother's Days to get through. A bit like those special buy one get one free offers you see in the shops. Normally I love those things, but not so much this time.

Why am I even talking about this? Well because today it's Mother's Day in the UK.

It's such a bittersweet day for me.

• Two years ago I was happily pregnant with my Son. My head was filled with the dreams of all the Mother's Days we would spend together. 
• Last year I spent the day without him in my arms. It was not at all the day I had imagined a year before. 
• This year I am pregnant again, and yet still grieving my son. My head is filled both with the dreams of all the Mother's Days I will (hopefully) spend with Frostina, and all the sadness of the ones I won't be spending with my Son.

The Hubby has an interesting strategy for dealing with the whole two for the price of one Mother's Day dilemma. He insists that today isn't the real day because we're from America. Since US Mother's Day is in May, that's when we should be celebrating (or not celebrating) it. I don't know if this will really work for him, but I know it doesn't fly with me. After six years of living over here, I'm pretty immersed in the British culture, public holidays and all.

Today I will lay low and probably not leave the house. Thus reducing the chances that I will run into all the happy Mothers spending the day with their living children. I'm not sure I'm ready for all that just yet. Part of me thinks that being pregnant again should make this day easier. The other part of me realizes that it probably won't. So I won't be taking any chances.

I'll just hunker down and wait for this day to be over. And then, lucky me, I get to do it all over again in May. Ahhh, the fabulous life of an expat! 

To all the British Baby Loss Mums out there, I wish you a gentle Mother's Day. I'd like to think that our babies are smiling down on us from above.

Photo courtesy of CarlyMarie

Hope Creeps In

This pregnancy has not been easy on me emotionally. I suppose all pregnancies after a loss are difficult and what I'm experiencing is normal. That is if your definition of normal is rotating between fear, panic, dread, grief, sadness, nervousness, paranoia, wistfulness, longing, fixating, and terror. Since I'm always on the hunt for my new normal here, I'd say this probably isn't the best definition available. But alas, sometimes reality rules.

For the past 22 weeks I've been scared. Worried that something will go wrong like it did last time. Worried that I won't be able to handle it again. Worried that I won't be able to cope with another loss. Wondering if I was a complete crazy person to put myself in this vulnerable place again.

As time has gone on something odd has happened. Every now and then I experience this strange sensation. At first I didn't even notice it was there. It would flit in and out of my consciousness. Blink and you'd miss it.

What was this strange sensation? It seemed foreign and yet somehow familiar. Tiny butterflies in my stomach. A small smile that would creep onto my face from time to time. A skip in my step. A song in my heart. My mind starting to think ahead,,,, making plans. What was this strange sensation? 

Suddenly it hit me. I knew exactly what this strange emotion was.

It was hope.

Somehow amongst all the fear and the worry and the stress of this new pregnancy, hope had crept in. I didn't recognize it at first because I was so preoccupied with all my negative thoughts. Even if I did have awareness of it, I pushed it right back where it came from.

But this hope was stubborn. Instead of allowing itself to be pushed away, it pushed back. It came more often, screaming my name each time. "I'm back," it would shout. "Remember me? Still I pushed it back.

There is no room for hope when you're living each day in fear. Hope is the enemy. Hope makes you vulnerable to being hurt again. Protecting yourself from hope will protect you from pain,,,,, right?

But hope wouldn't give up. It came even more often, and it stayed for longer periods of time. Enough time for me to start going to prenatal yoga again. Enough time for me to start looking at baby girl nursery items on the internet. Enough time for me to buy tickets to go to the Baby Show here in London. Enough time for me to attend the Baby Show and actually enjoy myself!

I kid you not,,, I went to the Baby Show and enjoyed myself.

I'm very good at denial though and so even though hope was there, I refused to acknowledge it's existence. I got home from the Baby Show and couldn't stop talking about it to The Hubby. I didn't buy anything of course, but I had done all sorts of "research" on the latest baby buggy and nursery furniture. I was babbling on about this and that when I realized that The Hubby was smiling at me.

"What are you smiling at??" I asked him. Of course he said he wasn't smiling at anything, which made me continue to question until he finally spilled. He said it was just nice to see me happy and excited again. And that's when it hit me. Hope had crept back into my life. Perhaps not blind hope, more like guarded hope. But hope nonetheless.

This is not to say that I'm over the fear. I'm most definitely still feeling fear, panic, dread, grief, sadness, nervousness, paranoia, wistfulness, longing, fixating, and terror. It's just that now it's sprinkled with a little hope.

Frosty?? Or Frostina??

Today we had our 20 week anomaly scan. To say I was nervous about it is probably the understatement of the year. When I get nervous I get a bit distracted and ditzy. I was so nervous that I started doing stupid things around the house. Like trying to go to sleep with my contact lenses in and putting my yoga pants on backwards. I didn't notice about the yoga pants until hours later when I sat down to pee and noticed the tag was in the front,,, duh!

I just don't look at scans the same way I did last pregnancy. In my naive, happy go lucky mind the biggest worry was if I would get a cute scan photo to share with my family. It never occurred to me that anything could or would go wrong. I was really that sure that I was "all clear" and was taking my son home with me. Oh how things have changed this time around.

So I was hugely relieved to learn that all is well with our little Frosty. My doctor (who does all his own scans) took a long time checking everything out. Everything looks great and baby is measuring well in all categories. I was so relieved to hear that heartbeat that I started crying. Why does this all have to be so scary this time??

Anyway, he asked us if we wanted to know the sex and of course our answer was YES! We have been dying to know if we've got a little Frosty or a little Frostina in there. And of course I have to share this great news with all of you as well. So here goes.

That's me at 20 weeks with a rather large bump if I do say so myself. I sent this photo to my family back home. The only difference being that I included my head in the one I sent to them. : )

That's right people, we're having a girl. The Hubby and I both started crying when we heard the news. I'm absolutely thrilled!! Not that I really cared one way or the other, I just want her to be born alive and healthy. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited at the prospect of shopping for all those adorable little girl clothes.

So from now on, I will be calling her Frostina instead of Frosty! My mother is petrified that we will get attached to this little nickname and actually name her Frostina. I may be a bit crazy from time to time, but I'm not that crazy. Although she will probably always be Frostina here on this blog.

Wow, I'm having a girl. Wow!

The Shift

I'm not sure when it happened, but something shifted. I went from being the kind of person who thought bad things only happened to other people to the kind of person who thinks that bad things only happen to me. Other people get the happy endings, not me. "They" will get exactly what they want with very little struggle and no unexpected "surprises" in the end. I will not be so lucky. I will forever live on the wrong side of statistics. I'm the 1 in 1000, aren't I special?

Actually I lie, I know exactly when the shift happened. It was on September 12, 2010 at my 36 week scan when I was told that my son had died. All through my struggle with infertility I kept telling myself that it would all work out in the end. That once I finally got pregnant then all would be well. I naively figured that after 7 years of struggle I was owed at least that. I had an easy (minus the morning sickness), complication free pregnancy. I was finally going to have my miracle baby.

Until that day, in that room, with those words... there's no heartbeat. That's the day it all shifted for me. I somehow went from a super optimistic person to someone who realized that there would be no easy road for me. I was the kind of person that bad things happened to. Not because I had done anything wrong or somehow deserved it. But because bad things just happen, and apparently the universe has decided that they were going to happen to me.

It's hard to continue to be happy for those "other people." The people out there that bad things don't happen to. The majority of folks who never struggle to get and stay pregnant. Those who just go off birth control, get pregnant, and then 9 months later share their happy post-birth photos of their new happy family.

Please don't think that I would wish my misery on them because I don't. It's just hard to see everyone else getting what I am fighting tooth and nail for with such ease. They are in a place that I can only hope someday to be.

Now I know there will be those of you reading this who want to reach through their computer screens and give me a good old slap. I know that many of you are still deep in the trenches of infertility. A place where that elusive positive pregnancy test seems to mock you at every turn. A world filled with hormone injections and cycle dates. Your life ruled by the calendar and completely taken over by doctors apointments. A world where the outcome of peeing on a stick will either fill you with joy or send you crying to your bed.

You are probably thinking, "Who are you to talk?? You're pregnant. All I want is to be pregnant. If only I could get pregnant than I could move on from the nightmare of failed cycle after failed cycle." Believe me, I get that and I probably deserve a slap or two for feeling so sorry for myself.

But you have to remember that I have been here before. For me, just being pregnant doesn't assure me anything. The last time I was pregnant I thought I was "all clear" only to have everything ripped away from me at 36 weeks.

After the baby shower. After all the clothes had been purchased and washed. After all the baby stuff had been purchased and delivered. After that terrible day when all I was left with was a house full of baby stuff and empty arms.

So for me, the journey doesn't end until I have a healthy living baby to bring home with me. Only then will I believe that perhaps it's all real. Only then will I start to allow myself to believe that perhaps something bad won't happen to me this time. That perhaps I've had my fair share of bad stuff happen. Although just writing those words down feels a lot like tempting fate to me.

I'm not sure I will ever be able to shift back to my old self. I think I will forever be "That Woman." The woman who bad things happen to. An outsider of sorts. Struggling to fit in and just be happy for other people without letting my own unhappiness and jealousy get in the way.