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 Much Do I Share?

I am happy that we now have a plan. I am happy that this plan seems to be our best chance of having a healthy living baby that we get to bring home with us this time. The part I struggle with now is how much to share with the people I know in real life?

Egg donation is still a pretty new thing. While I know lots of people who have done IUI, IVF, and even adoption, I don't know anyone who has used any kind of donor. I tend to be a bit of an open book when it comes to my infertility and loss journey, but this time I feel I need to carefully consider what I say.

I have only told my family and 2 very close friends so far and they were all amazingly supportive. But the expat community is a rather tight knit group. A bit like a small town, or living in the dorms in college where everyone know everyone else's business. As a result of this tight knit community, I have a rather large group of friends. Normally this is a great thing, but in this case I feel the need for some discretion.

As with any small town-type environment, there are a lot of friendly faces around. There is also a lot of gossip and judgement. The last thing I want is for my major life decisions to become fodder for gossip. I also am in no place to be able to handle any kind of negativity or judgement. I may be getting stronger, but I'm still very sensitive and vulnerable.


It's not that I'm ashamed that if we have another child it won't be genetically related to me. My life has been completely shatterd by the death of my son. I would do anything to be able to bring home a happy, healthy baby. It's just that I'm not sure I want everyone to know exactly how we did it. I have this vision of people meeting my child and immediately trying to see if he or she doesn't look like me. I imagine conversations where people say things like, "Well they did a good job picking out a donor because that baby looks like it belongs to them," or "That baby looks nothing like her, good thing he/she looks like his/her father." 

Perhaps I'm being overly paranoid. Perhaps this is what adoptive parents think about too. Perhaps I'm not giving myself and others enough credit. Or perhaps this is exactly what people will say and do and I don't want to have to deal with it.

Perhaps I need more time before making this decision.

I'm going to Brussels with some friends this weekend for a girl's weekend. Let's hope I can keep my big mouth shut after a few glasses of wine.

If I Had an Anonymous Blog

Today's blog dare prompt is this, what would post about if your blog was anonymous? Would it be the same as your current blog? Could you let loose and and write more about what it on your mind?

Well since my blog is anonymous this is an easy one for me to answer. I blog anonymously specifically so that I can be as honest as I want to be. In real life I'm the kind of person who loves to share the positive things and tends to keep the negative things to myself. I've never been a complainer, I've never been the kind of person who needs other people to lean on in times of trouble. I deal with most of the negative things in private, with my husband. I keep my happy public face on at all times. I hate to cry in front of other people (except my husband of course) and I don't usually reach out and ask others for help.

But losing my son is simply too much for me to bear. I can't just do it myself. I can't deal with it alone. It bursts out of me when I least expect it. I cry in public now, I cry in front of friends and strangers. But I hate it. For some reason, I still feel the need to put on a good public face. It's exhausting most of the time but I just can't turn into someone I'm not. I'm not brave enough to share my real grief with the people I know and love. I know that sounds crazy, but I just need them to think I'm strong. I can't allow myself to let them see how sad and vulnerable I really am. I don't know why I'm like this, but I am and I've come to accept it.

So I blog without telling my name. Here I can let it all out without worrying that people in my real life will think I'm losing my mind. Here I can talk about the people in my life who have let me down. Here I can express my grief in a way that I just can't do anywhere else. I know it's the Internet and I'm releasing my innermost feelings in a very public way, but somehow it feels safe.

Safer than trying to express these feelings with my friends. It's not that they won't listen or care, but sometimes it's just too hard to see the looks of horror on their faces. Watching them absorb my story, the story that is probably their greatest fear, the fear of losing a child. Watching that look reminds me that my new normal is still completely alien to them. They don't live in the world of dead babies. The world where you pick up ashes and have blessings at a church. The world where you have to deal with an empty room that should have been a nursery. The world where nothing is safe anymore.

But here, I have found many people who walk this path alongside me. It's an awful path, but it's ours and we're doing our best to try and navigate through it.

So that's why I blog anonymously. I get to have a safe place where I can work through my loss, and I still get to have some semblance of my old normal life. I really think I need both to stay sane.

Phew, that felt a lot like a therapy session. : )