It's Just A Building,,, It's Just A Buidling

It's been just over two years since my son died and was born.

In the beginning of my grief journey I was plagued by flashbacks. Sometimes the smallest thing would trigger a memory in me. A memory of something that would then flood back into my head, playing behind my eyes like a film at a cinema. The smallest thing would transport me right back to that time and place. Transport me right back to that pain, as if it was happening again in the present.

I hated the flashbacks. They had a way of ruining what could have been a pretty good day. Or ruining what I was hoping would be a really good day. They ruined a lot of days. Some days they ruined me too.

One of the more vivid flashbacks I had was back in February of 2011. I wrote about it here. It was triggered by a building. Not just any building of course. It was the building where I had to go to register the stillbirth of my son. It was a horrible day and I think I did a pretty good job of explaining my feelings in the post I linked to so I won't go back into detail here.

I've been back to that building. As you've probably guessed, I had to go back to register the live birth of Frostina. I didn't write about it at the time because I was in my new baby haze and lots of things slipped through my mind. But it was quite a surreal experience.

It is so different walking in to register the birth of your living baby. Of course, most people have nothing to compare it to,,,, but I do.

I braced myself for the occasion. Preparing for the flood of emotions that I was sure would come. In kindness to any potential dead baby parents, I opted to leave Frostina home with The Hubby. I wouldn't want to put anyone through what I went through. Plus, I didn't really want to have to drag her down there and be around people who could have colds or the flu or some other "icky" germs.

I also wanted to brave it on my own because I had gone the first time on my own. I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.

And I did.

I went down, registered her birth, and made it home in one piece. I held it together (pretty much) and was very proud of myself. This time I didn't cry in the lobby, or in the room, or in the taxi on the way home. I went down, faced my demons, and headed back home to my beautiful baby girl.

That was that... or so I thought.

Just this past week I had to take Frostina to the doctor for a check up. I've been playing around with the best way to get her there. I tried taxis but they get expensive. The tube is out of the question because it's not at all baby buggy friendly. So that leaves the bus. It's not a direct route and it's taken me a couple of times to figure out the easiest way. The most direct way.

The way that makes me walk past "That Building."

I didn't even realize it at first. I was so lost in thought and trying to find the bus stop that I didn't notice where I was. Until I was standing right in front of it.

Cue flashback. Well to be more specific, cue flashback of a flashback.

I was transported back to that day when I was trying desperately to keep myself together. To try and get from the tube station to the restaurant to meet my friends without crying. My unsuccessful attempts to cry and not have everyone who walked past me notice. The strength it took for me to pull myself together so that none of my friends would know I had been sobbing minutes before.

I thought my flashbacks were a thing of the past. I guess I was wrong.

This time I did not cry though. I just kept reminding myself, it's just a building,,, it's just a building.

I hope at some point I am able to walk past this building and believe it. But for now, it's always a painful reminder of days gone by.

I'm Finally Packing For Three

It feels like my blogging life has come full circle.

Or it's about to.

Where it all started,,, it's about to return,,, but with a much happier result this time.

It's surreal on many levels.

I almost can't believe it's actually happening.

If you would have told the me of 2 years ago that this day would come I'm not sure I would have believed you.

And yet here it is.

We are planning a trip home to see the family. We leave in a couple of weeks and I've got so much planning and packing to do.

A trip we do and prepare for every year.

But this year we are actually bringing a living, breathing baby with us.

No ashes in an urn.

A real living baby.

A real living baby!!!

We get to do all the things we had planned before....

A christening.

Family photos.

Sharing our joy with our loved ones.

Such a different place from where this whole blogging journey began.

That day, almost two years ago, when I wrote this post and Finding My New Normal was born.

Friday, 5 November 2010

I should be packing right now.

I really should be packing. We are flying home to see the family for the first time since losing our son in August. This was going to be the first visit home for him to meet his grandparents and extended family. But instead of bringing home a happy baby, we are bringing home his ashes in a tiny plastic urn. Instead of being held by his loving parents, his ashes will be scattered in a beautiful place that we both love. It is not fair and I do not want to have to be doing any of this. So this is why I am not packing yet. Because once I start packing I have to face the reality that I am only packing for 2 and not for 3.



A post about packing for a trip home is where it all began.

And today I once again write about packing for a trip home.

But today things are very different than they were that dark and sad day in November of 2010.

This time around I'm finally packing for three!!!

Just Something Else I'll Never Know

Sometimes I feel like things are back on track. In the year and 7 months since my son died and was born I've done a pretty good job coming to terms with his loss. It's not been easy, especially since I'm pregnant again, but I'm managing. But then, every now and then, something hits me out of the blue that knocks me back down again.

It can be anything really. There are lots of triggers out there. But for some reason it's the things I'll never know that get me the most. I could go through the whole list, but my heart can't take writing that kind of post right now. I'll save that for another day when I'm not feeling quite so vulnerable. Perhaps after Frostina is born happy and healthy and I'm not so worried that I also won't know those things about her. So for now I'm going to put that list aside and get back on topic.

I was chatting with a friend over lunch this week and she was asking about my pregnancy. As I was filling her in on some things the waitress came over and asked if we wanted dessert. After we both said no, I mentioned to my friend that it's probably better if I taper down on my sugars for a while as I'm pretty sure I'll be having my gestational diabetes test sometime soon. That got us on the subject of all the blood tests and injections you have to endure when you're pregnant and how you end up feeling like a human pincushion.

I mentioned in passing that I'm almost due for my anti-d injection. She had no idea what I was talking about and asked what that was. I went on to explain to her that I have an RH-negative blood type and if you have that then your body can create anti-bodies to your baby if he/she has an RH-positive one.

I went on to explain how before they knew about this, babies used to die sometimes as a result of the Mother's immune system thinking the baby was some kind of virus. So now, they give you the anti-d injections as a way to prevent your body from building up any kind of antibodies that can hurt your baby. If the baby is also RH-negative then you won't build up the antibodies, but since they have no way of knowing until after the birth, they give everyone the injections as a precaution. **I am not a doctor so please don't think that I'm any kind of expert on this kind of thing. This is just my understanding of things.


That made me think about my first pregnancy with my son. "You know," I said to her, "I don't know what blood type my son had."

It's not something I've ever wondered about before. Now that I'm pregnant again I suppose it's relevant though. Did the anti-d injections I had in my last pregnancy save me from building up antibodies against this one? Was my son RH-negative like I am? Or was he RH-positive like The Hubby? As I was at a lunch with friends I quickly let the question slip out of my mind and I went on with my day.

For some reason I woke up thinking about this question this morning. One of many questions I have about my son, who will never grow up and help me answer them. There was only one place I could think of to check for the answer. His post mortem report. Not an easy read by any account, but I felt compelled to give it a go. So I dug it out and read through it for probably only the second or third time ever.

It's a completely heartbreaking thing to read, even though I don't understand half of it with all the medical speak it contains. I scoured the entire document with it's charts and figures, but no mention of his blood type. It seems like a strange thing to leave off. I mean, they have the weights and measurements of all his organs, but no blood type?

So basically, I tortured myself with reading in detail about how my son died and didn't get the answer to my question. Nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon! I had a small breakdown after that. Not because it's so important for me to know what his blood type was, but because it's just one more thing I don't know about him.

One more item to add to the list that I'm not ready to write yet.

Just something else I'll never know.

Are You There New Normal? I'm Still Trying To Find You.

Come out come out where ever you are...... no seriously, stop hiding... ok this isn't funny anymore, just tell me where you are so I can find you already.

I tweeted this last night and it hit me that it would be a great opening for a blog post. Poetic in a way, and yet so very much how I'm feeling right now.

It's been a whole year now since my son died and was born. A whole year. I've been through a full year of milestones now, lived through all the "firsts." A whole year navigating my way through the fog that is grief. In a way it's an accomplishment, but I'm left asking myself where am I now?

The main reason I started writing this blog was to try and figure it all out. How could I possibly live without him? What would a life without my baby be like? How would I manage normal day to day things? How would this change my relationship with the hubby? So many questions to muddle through and no guidebook to help me figure it all out.

As I have said over and over again, I loved my old life. I was happy and healthy and babies didn't die. When I heard those terrible words (there's no heartbeat) from the doctor I knew life would never be the same.

• I knew I would have to grieve and that things would be different but I did NOT want my entire life to fall apart. 
• I knew that I would be sad for a while but I did NOT want to be completely devastated all the time. 
• I was absolutely determined to get my life back. And not just any kind of life,,,, but a life where I wasn't crying in public and falling apart at the slightest things. 

So a year on how am I doing on my quest for a new normal? I've had lots of moments where I felt like my entire life had fallen apart. I've had lots of moments where I was completely devastated all the time. I've had lots of moments where I cried in public both with and without the shield of my sunglasses.

But I've also had happy moments. Moments when I felt hopeful. Moments when I had fun with my friends. Moments when I was so in love with the hubby I thought I would burst. Moments where for just a while I forgot that my son died and just allowed myself to experience joy.

Some days I think I'm doing pretty well. Other days it's like I'm right back at the beginning. Days when I am hit with a flashback out of nowhere. A day like yesterday.

Last night the hubby informed me that some of his employees will be in London for a meeting in a few weeks time. His team is scattered across several countries so they only get together a couple of times a year. For years we have invited them to our home on one of the nights for dinner. We try to impress them with some good old American food. Usually BBQ chicken and corn on the cob. I used to make my "famous" chili for them which was an absolute favorite all around.

I used to make chili for them. In fact I made chili for them the night before I found out that my son had no heartbeat. You see, we were supposed to host them all for dinner that night after my scan. I had bought a bunch of chicken and spent hours making the chili the day before because we all know that chili tastes better on day 2.

So immediately after we get the news that our lives have been shattered into a million pieces we have to call his team and tell them they can't come over for dinner that night. When we get home I'm faced with a HUGE pot of chili. What on earth am I going to do with all this chili now? Neither of us were hungry that night as I packed my bag in preparation for my C-section which was scheduled for the next day. So the pot sat uneaten in my fridge until my lovely friends came over to clean out the nursery and baby stuff. I told them they could eat it but I've always suspected they dumped it down the sink.

So last night when the hubby suggested having them over again I knew what was coming. "They really want some of your chili this year," he tells me. Apparently they love it so much that it's been specially requested. I'm not sure if it's the timing of this visit to the one last year, or the memory of making the chili itself,,, but I totally lost it.

Hysterical crying about chili! *Yes, about chili.*

"I can't make chili for them," I tell him. At first he doesn't realize why,,, because of course he had forgotten about the chili. But not me. Apparently chili is now a trigger for me. I realized that I haven't made chili since my son died. And I'm certainly not going to make it again, in August, for the same people as the night before my life fell apart.

So how's that new normal going??? I'm not sure just yet. I feel like I take 2 steps forward and then 1 step back. It's frustrating sometimes, but I try to be gentle with myself. After all, if I really want the life I love back then I have to start by loving myself,,, right?

**And apparently in my new normal I no longer make chili.

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.

Four AM Freakout

I wake up and check the clock (as you do), it's 4am. I roll over to go back to sleep. A dull pain shoots through my stomach and back. I try and ignore it but the dull pain will just not go away. I figure I must have been sleeping in a funny position so I roll over again in an effort to get comfortable.

Ouch. OK, wow, this must be why I woke up at 4am. Hmm, if I can just roll over again maybe the pain will go away. Nope, that's not working either,,, I'm really in pain. I roll over to wake the hubby but of course he's not there because he's away on business. So I'm home alone with these dull achey pains in my upper stomach and back.

Keeping calm would have been advisable, but it's 4am and I'm home alone so of course I start to freak out.

• Maybe my appendix is bursting.
• Maybe I have some sort of ulcer. 
• Maybe the ulcer has made a hole in my stomach and the acid is leaking all over my other organs. - I told you I was freaking out. 

Then it hits me.... what if I have to be rushed to the hospital and need surgery? Our embryo transfer is supposed to be next week.

• What if I can't fly after surgery?- In my head I've had my appendix taken out already. 
• What if we have to cancel this cycle due to this pain? 
• What if it ruins everything? 

By this time I'm really freaking out. Breathing heavy. Heart rate up. I get up and go to the bathroom hoping that may help things out. Nope, but I was lightheaded walking there and back.

• Is that another symptom or am I just dizzy from hyperventilating? 
• What if I pass out? 
• I'm home alone, who will find my body? Then I remember that my personal trainer is set to come over at 9:30 so at least if I fall down and can't get up there will be someone coming over who can call 999 (that's 911 for you Americans). 

I am now in full freak out mode. The pain is moving around a bit, from my stomach to my side to my back. I've never experienced anything like it. What is going on with me? I finally gather enough sense to call NHS Direct which is a 24 hour line where you can call and speak to a nurse. Amazingly they called me back within 10 minutes. The nurse asked me a bunch of questions about my symptoms and decided I must have some kind of virus and told me to stay in bed and drink plenty of fluids.

Not satisfied with that I rang my doctor's office and made an appointment for 10am. At my appointment I explained everything to the doctor including my upcoming IVF cycle and all the rest. She knows my history and what happened to my son so she understands just how sensitive and stressful this cycle is for me. She did a good exam and asked me a bunch of questions as well. By this time I had taken some ibuprofen and the pain was gone.

Her conclusion?

• My appendix isn't bursting. 
• I don't have an ulcer and therefore said ulcer is not burning a hole in my stomach causing the acid to leak over all my organs. 
• This pain is not being caused by all the hormones I'm injecting. 
• She is sure that any dizziness I had was due to freaking out and hyperventilating. 
• This issue shouldn't affect my ability to fly and I will be able to go ahead with the embryo transfer next week. 

So what's wrong with me? Well she said it could be gallstones but based on her exam and my general description of the pain (and the fact that it went away so easily with ibuprofen) that's probably not it. She thinks it's a combination of stress and the Indian food I had for dinner last night.

I really should have figured it out myself. They hubby hates Indian food so when he goes away I sometimes order my favorite curry to be delivered. It's a bit of a treat which I don't have very often. I've got a sensitive stomach and I usually pay for the curry dinner with heartburn and a bit of an upset tummy. So combine this with the fact that I've got a lot on my mind (wow, understatement of the year) and you've got a recipe for total abdominal meltdown.

So I'm not dying,,, I just need to lay off the Indian food. Her advice was to take it easy and try to relax. If only I could figure out how to manage that one. She also advised bland foods and lots of water. If I have any more pain then I need to come back, but she seems to think this is a one-off type of thing. I hope she's right because I've already got too much to worry about.

Why do these things always happen at 4am??

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