Frostina's Favourite Person

I would like to introduce you to Frostina's favourite person, her Daddy. Yes I know she still loves me too, but the way she lights up when he enters a room just makes my heart melt. I love that he is such a good Daddy to her, and I especially love watching them together.

I sure married well.

It is me...........the Hubby

My wife has asked me many times over the last year+ if I wanted to "guest post". I always said NO, this was her space. I still believe it is, and I am pretty sure this will be my one and only post. After this I will go back to being a fan........

June 8th, 2012 was the happiest day of my life. At 8:49am when I heard that wonderful sound.....the sound of my baby girl........our Frostina crying as she entered this world. I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT MOMENT!  In a instant, overwhelming joy..and yes RELIEF swept through my body. SHE MADE IT!

In order to get to this moment, I want to express my thoughts about 3 "people".

The 1st is someone I will never know. There are many people like her...........women who for some reason have chosen to give a gift. A gift that can never be repaid. Why these women choose to do this, what inspires them, what motivates them, I will never understand. But for the lady who donated her eggs....so that my wife and I could be parents........to make Frostina a possibility....THANK YOU. I hope somehow you "know"......I am forever GRATEFUL!

The 2nd "person" I want to recognise is......YOU. Yes you. the loyal followers to my wife's blog. When she started this, it was her way to go somewhere private, to write what she was feeling........no one to judge her. No family, no friends....and yes at first no hubby. Just her "place".

What this blog has turned into, truly amazes me. The community of support. Women with similar stories and loss and struggle. Whether you know it or not, you have been something for her no one else could be. But without you, I'm not sure if she could have made this journey. You have motivated, inspired and supported my wife so wonderfully from her 1st blog about losing our son, through some funny moments ( top 10 infertility list) to the joy of Frostina's arrival. THANK YOU!

The 3rd..of course is my wife. I know you say you do not feel like it at times. But you are truly the strongest person I know. If not for your strength, determination and most of all your LOVE...........Frostina would not be here today. I could write a book on everything you have put yourself through.........all the doctors appointments, all the flights, all the shots, all the medications.

NO ONE deserves to be called MOMMY more than you. The joy and smile on your face holding our daughter...........is so special......is truly beautiful.

We will never forgot our son...........he lives in our hearts everyday. I know he would be such a great big brother to Frostina...........

I Love you with all my heart...........

Frostina's Daddy

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.

Buying His Balloon

It's a simple task, buying a balloon. People do it every day. It's a simple task, except when it's a balloon that you plan to release in honor of your stillborn son.

I knew it wasn't going to be an easy thing to do, so I had the hubby come with me. I was in full denial/distraction mode. I was just going to walk into the shop and buy a balloon.

That's all.

Simple.

I take a deep breath and walk up to the counter. "I need to get a helium balloon for a little boy's birthday." The woman asks me his age and then pulls out a stack of them, all with different designs and characters on them. I am completely overwhelmed, it never occurred to me that there would be so much choice. I tell myself to focus and remind myself to breathe.

"What does he like?" This is the question the woman asks me, noticing my hesitation.

My heart breaks with a smash, and a crash, and a thud. I feel like someone is wringing my insides with their hands. My mouth goes dry and my eyes fill with tears.

"I don't know," I tell her.

I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.

I don't know what kind of balloon he would like because he is dead and he can't tell me. So I have to guess. No one should ever have to guess what kind of balloon her son would like.

"This one will be fine," I tell her.

Hand in hand, the hubby and I walk out of the store holding our balloon and trying not to cry on the walk home.

*Pouring my heart out with Shell at  Things I Can't Say

When Wearing Underwear Over Your Clothes Isn't Funny.

Picture this, you see an elderly man walking down the road. He is carrying a bag from a supermarket containing ice cream. He is wearing trousers, his pajama top, and his underwear,,,, over the top of his trousers. Sounds like a really funny story right? A grown man walking around with his underwear over his clothes. If you heard this story about a stranger you would probably laugh out loud.

Except for us, it's not funny at all.

This man is my father in law. He suffers from dementia.

The hubby got the call last night from his brother telling him the news. Apparently my mother in law noticed that he had left the house. She had no idea where he was. The fact that he was out was not unusual because he loves to walk and wander around town. He takes "walks" just about every day. But this time was different because she had not heard him leave the house. He was gone for a long time and she was getting worried about him.

I can only imagine her shock when he finally returned home happy as can be with his newly purchased ice cream.

• Part of her I am sure was relieved that he was OK. 
• Part of her I am sure was horrified that he had been walking around in such a state. 
• Part of her must be wondering what the people working at the store where he bought his ice cream must have thought about an 84 year old man wearing his pajama top and underwear over his clothes walking around their shop. *I wonder about this part myself. 

My heart is breaking today for the hubby. This is not the kind of news you want to get about your father. Especially when you live on a different continent and can't just pop over to see him. It's been a couple years since he was able to hold a conversation over the phone so the hubby can't even call him. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for him.

We all know in theory how dementia goes. But to see this happening to a parent is not theoretical. It's real, and it's happening, and it's not going to get better. It's only going to get worse.

I only wish there was something I could do to help.

*Pouring my heart out with Shell.  

We Survived... Thanks For Helping Us Through This

Saturday we celebrated my Son's first birthday in heaven. I want to thank all of you for your love and support through this very difficult time. Your comments and emails brought much needed light to a very dark time. I want to thank all of you who released balloons for my son. A baby you have never met.

I loved getting the photos in my inbox. I plan to publish a post with all of them very soon. I just need to figure out how to make one of those cute photo collages first.

I also want to send a special thanks to I'm So Fancy and Jane from wordgeyser who wrote posts in honor of my son. Words can't express how happy I was to find your lovely posts in my reader. Here are the  links if you want to go and check them out. They're wonderful and I highly recommend you give them both a visit and a read.

• I'm So Fancy's post
• wordgeyser's post

It wasn't an easy day for the hubby and I. As we were just back from a week away as part of Operation Distraction, we couldn't just sit around all day and cry. We had actual things that we needed to take care of. Including food shopping, which I smartly ordered online and had delivered, picking up prescriptions, and of course getting his balloon for the balloon release.

At first I was angry that part of his special day was taken up doing normal mundane things, but then I realized that actually it was more "normal" to have other things to do.

Time doesn't stand still for grief.
Life doesn't stand still for grief.
Even when you want it to.

It was "normal" to have to do other non-dead baby things on Saturday. Because in the year since my son died, life has gone on. We still need to have food in the house. We still need to pick up medications. We still need to get more light bulbs. We still need to do all the normal things that normal people do.

Grief is an additional layer to a normal life. At first it's a smothering layer that blocks out all light and oxygen. But as time goes on, it finds a way to incorporate itself into the other layers of your life. Six months ago I wrote about the layers of grief. I had forgotten about that post until I began to write this one. Looking back at my words, I don't think I have much to add. Except that with time it does get easier to live life while also living with grief.

Obviously his birthday will always be a tough one for us. A day when the shiny top-coat we've painted over our grief chips away and we are left raw and exposed. A day when we feel that pain again, as if it had just happened yesterday. As if we had not even begun to heal.

A day when the layer where we keep our grief again becomes exposed and is once again smothering and all consuming. This feeling is like a familiar unwelcome friend who comes to stay and refuses to leave. A feeling that lingers longer than you want it to,,, but not for as long as it did in the past.

Yes it was a tough day. But we survived, because that's who we are now,,,, survivors.

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today a 36 week pregnant me went in for one more growth scan and found out that my son had no heartbeat. I had no idea anything was wrong and could swear I had just felt him move. But I was wrong, they told me he had been gone for at least a few days.

That was the moment that my life fell apart.

I have spent the past year trying to pick up the pieces.

The Balloon Release Is On! Want To Join In?

As many of you already know, August the 13th, 2010 is the day my son was born silently into this world. This Saturday it will officially be one year since we had to say good bye. It's such a painful thing and yet I wanted to figure out some way to honor his memory and very short life. I wrote about doing a balloon release here and was amazed at the positive response I got from all of you.

After reading my post and all your responses the hubby warmed to the idea. So I composed a short email and sent it off to family and close friends. Most of them live somewhere besides the UK so I figured an email was the best way to get the message out. I sent a copy to the hubby to make sure he was ok with it. He loved it and even asked me to send it to his family who at first he was a bit hesitant to reach out to.

Asking for help isn't something that comes easy for either one of us. I think that most of our family and friends think we are strong people. The kind of people that have their shit together and don't fall apart when things get tough. I think they would tell you that we have handled the loss of our son with dignity and grace. I've actually been told that by someone. I remember thinking, "Dignity and grace??? Can't you see that I'm dying inside?" But instead of saying that I just said thank you.

For whatever reason, we have hidden the depths of our sorrow from those around us. For whatever reason we feel the need to put on a public face. So this makes reaching out to ask others to join in honoring our son extra difficult for us. But I did it and it felt good. I'm proud to have reached the point where I can do something like this.

I stressed in the email that there was no pressure to join in, that it was strictly optional. I got some amazing responses and promises of participation. Time will tell what kind of response we get on Saturday, but it felt good to get the request out there. I absolutely love the idea that there will be balloons released all over the world in memory of my beautiful son.

It felt so good to ask others to participate that I am also going to extend the invitation to you, my lovely blog readers. I would absolutely love it if you would consider releasing a balloon in honor of my son this Saturday, the 13th of August. I would love it even more if you could take a photo of the balloon and send it to me. Someday I hope to gather enough strength to purchase and put together a memory book for him and these photos would be a wonderful addition.

I know that I blog anonymously and that I have never told you my son's name. But I wonder if you would be willing to do this anyway? To honor a baby boy that was very much loved and very much wanted?

To honor my son who I miss terribly?

How To Honor His First Birthday?

We are still working out exactly how we want to honor our son's first birthday which is quickly approaching. I can't believe it's almost August 13th again.

I've been putting it off because thinking about it is so terribly painful. In a way I suppose I have been focusing a bit more on our IVF cycle than on my grief. It is easier to think about the future and all it's possibilities than the devastation that happened to us almost a year ago. As I wrote about here, the hubby is worried that we are somehow trying to replace him or that we will forget about him. But I have not forgotten, I am incapable of forgetting.

We have been very private in our grief so a big party is not for us. Plus the family lives in the US and we live in the UK so there's no way to get everyone together even if we wanted to. I think what we will end up doing is lighting a candle and releasing a balloon. Just the two of us.

I'm also toying with the idea of inviting my family and close friends to join in. Not with us in our back garden, but inviting them to release their own balloons. We did not have a memorial service or funeral for our son. It was too much for us. We had a private blessing and released his ashes on our own. It was what we needed at the time but I sometimes feel like we didn't give the rest of the family a way to pay their respects.

So I was thinking that if I let them know what we were doing then they could release their own balloons if they wanted. Or not if they don't.

I was even thinking they could take photos of their balloons and send them to me. Again, only if they wanted to. I could keep all the photos with the other mementos we have of him. That I may someday transfer to a memory book, but for now are all in a filing box. The hubby is a bit unsure about all this, but I'm leaning towards it.

So my lovely readers, what do you think of my idea to allow family and friends to join in?

Happy... Sad... Scared

These three words describe how the hubby and I are both feeling right now.

Happy
We got our fertilization report yesterday. Out of the 8 eggs that we were got from our donor (we did a shared cycle), 5 fertilized. Now I'm a total IVF rookie so I don't know if this is a good number or a bad one, but we are both feeling positive about it. We booked our SUPER EXPENSIVE last-minute flights to Washington DC in preparation for our transfer which is set for Wednesday.

It's so odd to know the exact moment of fertilization, when you get pregnant on your own or via IUI (which is what we did last time) you don't know that exact moment. But with IVF you do. That moment when the possibility of a new life begins. One cell that has divided into two with all the possibilities attached to it. Two cells that we hope divide into four, and so on and so on. Two cells that could perhaps grow into a healthy baby boy or girl that we could take home and welcome into our family. So much hope attached to those two cells. It's actually quite amazing when you think about it.

Sad
In the midst of all the hormone injections and fertilization reports we are also approaching a very difficult milestone. On the 13th of August it will be exactly one year since our son was born still. I struggle with what to call it. Is it his birthday? Technically yes because he was born on that day. But he died sometime before that so he wasn't alive to be born. Is it his angelversary? I suppose it's a more descriptive term but again I have a few issues with that term. I don't know what to call it, and it doesn't really matter I suppose. It is the day he was born and it will be a difficult one for the hubby and me.

Yesterday the hubby had a sad moment. I think he's been holding it all in, trying to be strong for me. But yesterday it all came out. He feels like we are replacing our son with this new potential baby. He doesn't want to replace him. He worries that with all this focus on our donor egg IVF cycle we have somehow forgotten about him. He reminded me that a year ago our son was still alive. I had a doctors appointment where we heard his heartbeat. That's the last minute I know for sure that he was still alive.

It is sometime in these next two weeks that he died and I didn't notice. "They could have still saved him then," the hubby kept saying, "He was still alive and they could have saved him." If only playing the what-if game worked. If only I could go back in time and be more vigilant, perhaps they could have.

We had a good cuddle and a cry over it all. I think we both really needed one. Especially him. I think it's so much harder for men to allow themselves to go there. To put down their walls and just feel. I love that the hubby knows that he doesn't always have to be strong for me. That sometimes I can be strong for him.

Scared 
We really want those five little embryos to continue to divide and grow. We really want to be able to implant one or two of them and have it grow into a healthy, happy, living baby. But we are also scared shitless. What if we have another loss? Will we be able to handle it? How on earth are we going to be able to get through another pregnancy without losing our minds with worry? It's a huge leap of faith,,, one that we are willing to take,,,, but we're still really scared.

An Amazing Letter From My Mother

We're getting ready to start our donor egg IVF cycle and I was talking with my parents about it over the weekend. They are hugely supportive of what we are doing because they know exactly what we are going through. You see, when I was 2 years old my Mother had a stillborn son. The cause was doctor error,, they pierced the umbilical cord during an amnio in the 8th month. She had no idea anything was wrong until the next appointment when they found no heartbeat. This was back in the 1970's when people weren't nearly as sensitive to these things. They told her to go home and wait for labor, which took almost two weeks to happen. In the meantime she had 2 year-old me to chase around and there was no hiding the bump. After my brother was born, they whisked him away and a priest came to visit and told her she was young and could have more babies. They never named him and don't know where exactly he is buried.

I am telling you this to give you some context to the amazing email that she wrote me after our conversation. In this amazing letter she is writing to me not just as my Mother, but as a fellow BLM. She doesn't know I blog so I'm sure she won't mind that I share it with all of you. I will post this as she sent it, except for a few minor edits to remove some names.

I found it very inspiring to hear the words of a fellow BLM who is over 30 years into her journey. She has amazing perspective and I hope her words can help comfort you as much as they comforted me.

Dearest  "My New Normal",

Today when we were talking, I realized the enormity of all you have been through. You have been through shock, loss, pain, grief, depression, and finally hope. You have also felt the love and support of your husband, family, friends, and fellow sisters who have lost their babies! Each of us has tried to give you our words, shoulders and most of all our healing love! You've found the words and poems that describe your own grief and feelings. 

I too sought the same things. The sharing of sadness, learning that what we think and feel is universal, creates a comforting connection between us and other women, and helps to validate what we personally think and feel. To heal it is absolutely necessary to understand exactly what we have been through, as we try to measure our progress toward recovery. 

I learned that I was forever changed, but also learned that while I had deep pain, I also had a strength I had not known I possessed. Like I've heard you say, I would never wish this upon anyone, but I do believe that the only way we get through such crushing loss, is with the nearness, and caring of our loved ones, and all who helped us were placed in our lives by God. People who were there when we needed them, said the words we needed to hear, were put there by God. Our friends are the hands of God here on earth.

I think I pondered the same things you have, and so for 2 years I waited for the magical moment when I'd feel completely healed and ready to try again. Then I realized that the next step would not be as I expected. I saw that I needed to go forward, and that it would take a "leap of faith", and I was not sure I could be brave enough. So your dad and I just decided to look ahead, think positively  and trust in the ultimate compassion of God.

You know that goodness surrounds you, and if you look in the right places and continue to reach out for the "healing touch" you will find the comfort that will give you hope and joy . What I want most for you, is to shift your total focus toward the future. Allow yourself to wish, hope, and pray for everything that you two want. I read a phrase that said, “I will have my angels encamped around you because I want to protect you”. Dad and I will begin again to pray nightly for you and "the hubby" to be blessed with a "gift from God".

We love you and are with you!

Mom and Dad

 

Six Word Memoir- The story behind those words

Last week I participated in a writers workshop. The prompt was to write about a significant time in my life using only 6 words. The words I chose were these.

I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat.

This weeks prompt is to elaborate and tell the story behind the words. 

I've already written the story behind those words on the My Story part of this blog. So rather than re-creating it, I am going to copy and paste an excerpt from my story which talks directly about the moments immediately before and after hearing these six horrible words. 

Here it is.

After a great pregnancy with no complications (other than the normal nausea) I was super excited to meet my baby boy. He was due in September 2010. Photos of my growing bump and ultrasounds were posted on facebook. The family came to visit me and we took a "babymoon" trip to Portugal. My friends threw me a baby shower. Our house started to fill up with baby stuff; clothes, moses basket, baby bouncer, car seat,,, you name it- we had it. We were ready to start our new life as parents.

Then at our 36 week scan it all went horribly wrong. A few seconds into the ultrasound I knew something wasn't right. Normally I could see my son wiggling and moving all over the place. This time he was perfectly still. The doctor started asking me about the baby's movements and when was the last time I felt him move. He got this horrible look on his face, I asked him why he wanted to know. That's when he said those 3 horrible words, "There's no heartbeat."

But how could there be no heartbeat? I had just felt him move right before the scan. I had been feeling him move all week. Sure, he wasn't kicking as much but that's because I was close to the due date and he didn't have as much room, right?? But they told me he looked like he'd been gone for several days based on the absence of fluid. So in fact, he had died and I had not even noticed it. I didn't know. How could I not have known??

I was completely numb and in total shock. I remember hearing my husband start screaming, "No, no, no. He can't be dead. You have to save him. Someone has to save him." The doctor was pushing the paddle hard on my stomach trying desperately to find any signs of life, but there weren't any. I could hear my husband sobbing and screaming and feel him squeezing my hand. But I was frozen, I said nothing. The doctor doing the scan called for my doctor to come down to verify. It's all a terrible blur but I vaguely remember him showing her the scan, saying something about no heartbeat and no fluid left. We were then left alone so I could get dressed and we could go upstairs and talk to my doctor about what to do next.

I made the call to my parents back in California (who even knows what time it was but I know I woke them up). Still in shock, I told them with barely a tear in my eye. I was totally numb, almost like a robot while my husband was absolutely inconsolable. I suppose it's good that we both didn't fall to pieces at that moment because there were decisions to be made.

Ultimately I decided to have an elective C-Section. I was not dilated at all and the doctor said it could take several days for any induction to work. The thought of being pregnant with a dead baby inside me for up to a week was too much for me to bear. And the idea of going through labor to give birth to my child who was already in heaven was even more unthinkable. So we scheduled the C-Section for the following day and I went home to make some more calls and get my bag packed.That night as I was trying to fall asleep I still thought I was feeling him move. Maybe it was just his body responding to my movements? Or maybe I was still hoping he would be OK.

I didn't break down until the next day right before the C-Section was about to begin. I walked into the operating room and had a total meltdown. "Why did he have to die? I want him back," I screamed. I was crying and shaking so bad I almost fell off the edge of the bed. I remember the anesthesiologist telling me that I had to calm down so she could give me the epidural. I had to sit still or she might damage my nerves. As hard as I tried, I couldn't calm down. In the end, the midwife had to lay on top of me to keep me still enough to have the epidural. Once they were sure I was numb, they gave me some sedative drugs and the rest I don't remember.

My son was born on August 13, 2010, he was already an angel.
 

Why Couldn't I Have Held Him?

I share a lot in this space. The good, the bad, and the ugly. No holds barred. It's the main reason I don't reveal myself here, so that I can be totally honest.

But this is something that I am not sure I should share. In fact, I may type the whole thing and then not publish it (if I do publish it then I apologize in advance because I'm sure my thoughts will be all over the place).

Why? Because I'm not sure you will ever think of me the same way after reading it. Not that any of you know me in real life (well except for 2 of you, 1 being my husband). But I fear that those of you who have gotten to know the "virtual me" will never see me in the same light.

You see, I am not like the rest of you.

I know this because I have read many of your stories on your blogs. I know what is "normal" for a grieving mother. I know what most other Baby Loss Mom's have done when their babies were born still. I have read how you held them, and kissed them, and told them you loved them. I have seen the photos of you holding your babies even after they were gone. I see the love and sadness in your eyes as you treasured this final embrace.

I know exactly how you were all feeling in those moments. I felt that way too. But there is one huge difference between your birth stories and mine.

I was unable to hold my son after he died. And for that I am ashamed.

Not because the doctors wouldn't let me, but because I just couldn't. Mentally, I was not in a place where I could even comprehend holding a dead baby. No matter that he was my dead baby. No matter that he was my firstborn son who I loved more than anything. I just couldn't do it.

They tried to talk me into it at the hospital. But each time the brought it up I went into a panic. I kept screaming, "No, No, No!" There were no other words that came out of my mouth. Just those words and a flood of tears. Each time they would back off as they could clearly see that I was on the verge of a total breakdown.

After several days, I was mentally able to see him. The midwives set everything up in a special room. They dressed him in the outfit my husband had picked out. I wasn't even able to pick out his own outfit at that point. When I finally saw him I almost collapsed with sadness. If it weren't for the wall that I propped myself up against I would have ended up in a heap on the floor. He was absolutely beautiful. But still I couldn't bring myself to hold him. I did touch his face, but it was cold from the refrigeration. That one touch would be the only contact I would ever have with my beloved son.

Tonight I was hit with a tsumani of regret.

Why couldn't I hold my son after he was born? Why was I so hysterical right before his birth that I had to be sedated? Why couldn't I just hold it together? I am normally such a strong person, why couldn't I handle this better? Why did I continue to act with such hysteria after his birth that I was unable to hold him and tell him how much I loved him?

Why?

Logically I know that we do the best we can in times like these. That we do what we are capable of. But in my heart I regret not having the strength to see past my fears of what a dead baby would look like. He was my only son after all. And now I am starting to feel like I have somehow rejected him. Even though I know that he had already left his earthly body before he was born, I still somehow feel like I have failed as a Mother.

Why couldn't I have held him???

Friends and Date Nights

As I have mentioned before, I find it much easier to write when I'm sad. I don't always want to write about sad things though. So I'm happy to be participating in a blog hop hosted by Natasha at My Angel Baby... Aiden William. In this hop we talk about the things that have made us happy this week.

So what's made me happy this week?

Friendships- Both new and old.
I have found that some of my friendships have changed since losing my son.  Although I'm lucky that most of my close friends have stuck around and are very supportive.

I have found some acquaintances no longer seem comfortable being stuck in a one-on-one conversation with me. I suppose that's not a huge surprise. What has been a great surprise is to see how some of my old friendships have strengthened in ways I didn't expect.

I have one friend in particular who I always liked but we were never really close. She reached out to me in my darkest hour. She has her own struggles she is dealing with as well. Not having to do with the death of a baby, but very painful struggles nonetheless.

We have bonded over our pain. We share our stories in a way that maybe we don't do with the people we see all the time. I'm not saying that all we do is cry when we're together. But we do cry, and we talk about our deepest fears and obstacles, and we laugh, and drink wine, and have fun.. I think we both feel safe talking about anything when we're together. Then we go back to our "usual" friends and live our normal "putting on our happy face" lives. I don't see her all the time, but whenever I do I walk away feeling loved.

I have also had the chance to meet a fellow Baby Loss Mom. We connected via Twitter. We are both expats living here in London so we are having to navigate this journey of grief and loss without the benefit of having our families close by. I found out she lived close by so we met for breakfast this week. It was so nice to be able to talk to someone in real life who gets it. We talked about our babies and how we are trying to move forward in our lives. I haven't participated in any support groups yet so this was one of the first times I've been able to talk to someone who walks in my shoes. I am so glad we connected, and I hope we will do it again soon. She lost her precious daughter Pippa in February and has just started her own blog. Here's a link if you want to read more about her Missing Pippa.

Date Nights
The hubby and I are going out for dinner tonight. It may not seem like a big deal, but I really enjoy when we get out and do things together. After almost 13 years of marriage it's nice to get dressed up and leave the house on a Saturday night once in a while. We usually don't get out on the weekends unless we've made plans with friends. So a dinner just with the two of us will be nice. Now I've just got to figure out what to wear.  

Mending Fences

Image: anankkml / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It's not easy to do, but when you finally forgive someone it sure feels great!

I've had a strained relationship with my sister for most of my life. As a child I used to blame myself (and be blamed by my parents) for our spats because I was the older sister and I shouldn't have done things to make her so upset. *Note to self:  If I am ever lucky enough to have two children I will not always blame the oldest for arguments. As we grew to be adults I had hoped that our fighting would get better. Sadly this was not the case. Our arguments have continued over the years and I have found myself pulling away from her just to keep some sanity.

Why do we argue so much? I think it's because we are so very different. She is a very emotional and dramatic person. She needs constant reassurance and praise. She lives her life on an emotional roller coaster. But she's not content to ride this roller coaster alone, she insists on dragging everyone in her life on it with her. I am a logical, level headed kind of person. I despise drama. I like to think things through and make decisions based on that. I hardly ever get myself whipped up into a frenzy, and when I do I try and keep the people I love out of it. *Maybe the husband would disagree on this last point, but you get what I mean. I dislike confrontation and will often just walk away seething about something rather than saying anything.

So you can see the problem. The things that she needs are things I can't give her and vice versa. My ideal sibling relationship would be calm and supportive. A two way street where we can talk about things in our lives that are bothering us, or what funny thing happened that day. Her ideal sibling relationship would be where she could call me daily with every crisis and allow me to talk her off the ledge each time. I just can't handle her drama. It stresses me out and makes me miserable. Especially since she never takes advice and gets defensive if you challenge what she is doing.

Things really blew up when I went home to visit family back in November. It was my first time seeing the family since my son died and I was in a very vulnerable place. As you can read in that post, things did not go well and I came back from my trip very angry with her. But instead of not saying anything to her which is my normal method of dealing with things. I actually told her how I was feeling.

Since then we have been working hard on our relationship. After I finally told her all about how she's upset me over the years, she also shared with me how she has been feeling. She told me that she did notice that I had been pulling away. She thought this meant I didn't care about her. I told her that I do care, but that I have felt frustrated that she always makes everything about her. Amazingly (well not really) she told me that the reason she talked all about herself that night in my room was because she thought it was a good way to encourage me to talk about my son. I am still baffled at her logic. I told her that there was no room for me to talk about my son because she had made it all about her. I told her that a better way to find out how I am feeling is just to ask me.

It may seem like such a simple and basic thing to do, but it never occurred to just tell her what I need. As much as I know we are different, I still somehow expected her to know how to be a good sister. Apparently she needs me to be very direct with what I like and don't like. So I have been doing that, and it's been working. She is now emailing me every week or so to fill me in on what's happening with her and to ask about what I'm up to. This is huge because in the past any contact between the two of us was either initiated by me, or came via our Mom telling us what the other is up to.


I have forgiven her for making me feel so unloved that day back in November. I know she means well but she's just not good at doing anything that isn't all about her. So if I want a good relationship with her I have to teach her. I'm sure it won't be easy because the rest of the family still caters to her every whim and mood. But maybe what she learns from me will benefit them as well.

So I'm getting to know my sister again, almost like you get to know a new friend. I have no illusions that we will never have another argument. But I am hopeful and optimistic for this new beginning.

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.

7 Ways Grief Has Changed Me

This blog is called Finding My New Normal. I started it after my son died to try and sort out my feelings and to try and figure out how to live without him. I've been thinking a lot about how losing my son has changed me. In an effort to find my new normal I think it's important to reflect on what this new me is like. How is she different from the old me?

Do I even like her? I suppose that's a question for a different day.

But for now, here are the 7 ways that losing my son has changed me.

1. I have taken my rose-colored glasses off. I used to surround myself with only positive things. I hated sad books, sad movies, or anything that would make me cry. I never thought that anything bad would or could happen to me. I believed that if you were a good person then only good things would happen to you. I now know that while it's important to be a good person, it won't necessarily protect you from bad things. I also know that just because you only watch funny movies and refuse to read the back of your pregnancy books where they talk about complications and loss, your baby can still die.
2. I am much more compassionate. I never gave much thought to the suffering of others. I don't mean that I didn't care for people or that I didn't feel sad when they suffered loss. It's just that I really didn't understand what they were going through. I figured they would be sad for a while and then get over it. I now know that you never really get over tragedy, you just get better at living with it. I now feel a need to reach out to the people in my life who are in distress. I want them to know that I'm here, that I understand, and that I'm here for them. I think I always felt this way, but I just wasn't very good at doing anything about it before. Now I want to get good at it, so that no one in my life has to suffer alone.
3. I am terrible at follow through. I forget to answer emails, pay bills, and return phone calls. I say I will send something in the mail or book a vacation and then I completely forget. I used to be very reliable and responsible. Now I find that I'm absent minded and if I don't write myself lists I forget things. 
4. I am much more emotional. I've always been one to cry at movies (one of the reasons for item 1) and silly commercials, but I was always very stable emotionally. The old me was very rational and rarely acted out of emotion. I carefully thought things through before I made decisions. But now I'm no longer in control. I feel sad on days when it's really not convenient. I cry in public which is something I would have NEVER done before. Basically, I'm a total mess. 
5. I am much more vulnerable. If you had met me 6 months ago you would have seen a confident, independent, happy person. It took a lot to hurt my feelings or make me angry. I rarely held grudges because for the most part, things just didn't get to me that much. Now I'm the total opposite. If my family doesn't call or email I'm hurt. A couple of family members forgot my birthday this month and it reduced me to tears. I was absolutely crushed that we received so few Christmas Cards this year. These are things that I wouldn't have thought twice about before.
6. I appreciate the positive things in my life. In fairness, I've always been grateful for the things in my life, just not in the same way. I really do have a good life. I have a loving family and a fantastic husband. I get to live in London where I have met some fabulous friends. We get to travel all over Europe and the world. What has changed is the depth to which I appreciate it all. I treasure the things in my life that I have left, because I now know how easy it is to lose it all. In the blink of an eye, or the wave of an ultrasound wand  your whole life can be shattered. 
7. I am a better wife. Well at least I hope I am. Tagging on to item 6, I have come to appreciate my marriage in a way I never thought possible. I now make more of an effort to let him know this, both in my actions and in my words. We have been married for over 12 years and it's easy to get complacent. So the new me is working hard to make sure he knows just how special he is to me. That I would never have gotten through this without him. That he truly is my life. 

I'm sure in time I will come to find many other ways in which I have changed, both for the good and the bad. I can only hope that someday I can look at the new me living my new normal and feel content. I hope I will like this new person I am becoming.

2010- The Things I am Thankful For

I've been doing some thinking since I posted this item  yesterday. Even though 2010 ended up being the worst year of my life, it wasn't all bad. So for the sake of balance, I want to add this entry.

I am so thankful for my husband. I always knew I picked a good one and living our experience has made me realize just how lucky I am to have him. Tragic events can either drive a couple apart or bond them forever. In our case, it's cemented the bond we already knew we had. He is my life, and even if we never have a living child,  my life will be complete because he's a part of it.

I am thankful that I finally got to be pregnant and carry a baby to term. I loved feeling my dear son wriggling and kicking inside me. I loved the way he kicked me every time I tried to sleep on my left side as if to say, "Roll over Mom, you're making me uncomfortable." I am thankful for the joy and love our baby boy brought into our lives. The joy and love we felt when he was growing inside me is like none I've ever experienced. I am thankful that we got to experience that, even though in the end we did not have a happy ending.

I wouldn't change being pregnant with my beloved son for anything,,, I'd just change the ending.

So there you go, even in a totally crappy year there are still some things to be thankful for.