The London Marathon

Today was the London Marathon. I volunteered to help cheer on the team running for Great Ormond Street Hospital. For those of you who don't already know, Great Ormond Street is an amazing children's hospital here in London. So when I found out they needed people to help cheer their runners, I jumped at the chance.

They gave us these bright purple T-Shirts to wear. Normally I wouldn't be caught dead in a bright purple T-Shirt, but for today I made an exception.

We got these purple inflatable noisemakers to help cheer the runners on. They were actually a lot louder than they look.

Every time we saw a runner wearing these tops we cheered like crazy!

It was an amazing day. We cheered for wheelchair racers, racers with prosthetic limbs, and even racers wearing some crazy costumes.

Oh, and we also cheered for my friends husband who was running for a different charity. 

I felt inspired! But not inspired enough to run a marathon,,,,, I'm not that crazy!

This post is my way of participating in Natasha's Happy List Saturdays even though I'm a day late.

The One Where I'm Being Childish And I Don't Care.

You know how on the show Friends, each episode was named "The one where......... ?" Well this post is being written Friend's style. If I like this new style of titling posts I may keep it for a while.

So here's the one where I'm being completely childish and I don't care.

I have a group of friends who I have met since living here in the UK. We are part of an alumni group for the sorority I was in back in college. We didn't all go to the same university, nor are we the same age. But we all joined the same sorority in our day and have all moved somewhere in Europe. So we get together from time to time to catch up. It's an amazing group of women of all ages and backgrounds. I really enjoy our time together and usually look forward to our get togethers.

Usually.

But not this time.

Every spring we have a London theatre event. We pick a matinee show with a happy theme. We do lunch before and drinks afterwards. It's a really good time. Usually.

Last year there were two of us who were pregnant. I was due in September and "Jill" was due in October. So before the show we had a lunch that doubled as a baby shower. There were games, and presents, and cake. Pictures were taken showing us proudly displaying our baby bumps while holding some of our gifts. We both joked about how our babies loved the show and kicked the whole way through. It was a lovely day.

This year's plans are in the process of being made. The show is Shrek the Musical. But there is one big change. Instead of doing lunch at a restaurant, it will be at "Jill's" house. You see, "Jill" lives very close to the theatre and decided it would be fun for everyone to get together at her place. That way we can chat more and also save a bit of money.

I have two problems with this.

1. Last year we did a baby shower as a part of this weekend so inevitably I will have some flashbacks about it. This will make the day difficult for me.
2. If the lunch is going to be at "Jill's" house then there is a 100% chance that "Jill's" son will be there. A baby that I have not been able to even imagine myself meeting. This baby was going to be friends with my son. He is a living breathing reminder of what I don't have.

Here's where the childish bit comes in. I am not going to be attending this year's event.

Because I don't want to have to struggle through a reminder of what last year was and what this year isn't. Because I can't bear to sit in a house and watch everyone fawn all over "Jill's" cute baby. Because I can't bear to listen to all the questions about how he's doing, and what he's eating, and if he's sleeping. Because I think if I have to see "Jill" lovingly hold her baby and share him with the world, I may jump out of a window. 

Because I don't want to.

But I'm not brave enough to tell them I'm not coming yet. So I said maybe and now I am dodging phone calls trying to confirm my attendance.

See,,, I told you I'm being childish.

And I don't care!

I don't care if they get mad that I'm not responding. I don't care if "Jill" gets her feelings hurt and thinks I'm not coming because of her. I don't care if everyone figures out that I'm hiding from babies and reminders of babies.

I'm not going and you can't make me!

See,,, I told you I'm being childish.

The Morning After The Night Before

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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???

Happy List

Once again I'm participating in Natasha's Happy List Saturdays. I've taken a few weeks off because sometimes it's hard to come up with happy things. But not this week. So here goes.

1. My bag-o-meds. I'm not at all happy about having to inject myself (I haven't gone totally crazy). But I'm happy that we have a plan. This bag represents a path forward, hope, and optimism. I do wish that our plan didn't involve needles, but hey,,,, I've been through much worse.

2. Clear tubes. I can't believe I'm posting this photo a second time. But they mean we can move forward with our egg donation + IVF cycle. And that's a good thing.

3. Sunny days. Please note that this photo was taken on a holiday to Dubai last year,,, this is not London. But a sunny day in London makes me feel like I'm on holiday. And holidays make me happy.

4. Wine with friends. Such a nice way to spend an evening. And some macaroons if you've got them. Again, this photo was taken on a weekend away in France. I think the fact that I'm digging out old holiday photos means I need to plan another one soon.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend.

Me vs My Tears

I have been fighting a battle lately with my tears.
They seem to want to leak out at the strangest of moments.

I am tired of battling with my tears.
Surely they must be bored by now.
Filling up my eyes.
Running down my cheeks.
Being wiped away by my hands or a tissue.

Always at inconvenient times.

Don't they have better things to do?

Blog Party

 

The lovely ladies over at 5 Minutes for Mom are having a huge blog party and I have decided to join in the fun. If you want to join in as well, click on the button above for all the info. If you are new to my blog, welcome.


Here is a little bit of info about me and my blog.

I am an American expat living in London. My husband and I have lived here for over 5 years now and really enjoy it.

I am Mommy to an angel in heaven. My son was stillborn at 36 weeks in August of 2010. I started this blog to try and work through my grief and find my way back from the brink of despair. My goal is to figure out how to live my life without him. Things will never be the way they used to be. So I am looking to find my new normal.

Before our loss we struggled with infertility so this blow was especially hard. It felt like we almost made it to our new lives and then someone just pulled the rug out from under us.

We are now in the process of trying for another baby. This time, due to my age and some genetic issues we are going forward using an egg donor. The world of egg donation is completely new to me. So I have been writing a lot about this new journey.

This blog has been such a refuge for me. It's where I can share my feelings in a way that I am unable to do in real life. I don't hold anything back. Much of what I share here is raw, uncensored, and painful to read. Believe me, it's painful to write as well. This is not a bright, shiny, happy blog much of the time. But it's me, all of me. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

For this reason, I don't reveal myself here. Somehow I feel safer blogging anonymously.

If I haven't scared you off yet then I hope you spend some time getting to know more about me and my journey.

All Clear!

Today was my HSG test (to check my tubes). Overall it wasn't as bad as I remembered. Maybe the one I had 10 years ago hurt more? Or maybe I was just a big infertility rookie and didn't know any better. Either way, it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be, which was good since I forgot to take any ibuprofen before leaving the house.

My tubes are all clear which is great news because it means we can move forward with the mock cycle next month. There they are, aren't they pretty?? I'm not really sure what I'm looking at either, but the doctor seemed happy so that makes me happy.

I was able to (ahem) administer the suppository without any major issues. Although part of this may be because I was trying to hurry up and do it before my house cleaners arrived. The only thing worse than having to stick an antibiotic where the sun doesn't shine would be to have my Romanian house cleaners walk in on me while doing it. So in my panic to not be "caught" I forgot all about being horrified at the task in hand and just got on with it.

It was a good strategy because it kept me from spending a lot of time worrying about it and wondering if it would hurt. Which by the way, it didn't.

I ended up getting to the clinic early and though I would have to wait. But lucky for me they were able to see me early. The whole thing was over and done with in less than 10 minutes. The only yucky bit is that I have to wear a pad for the rest of the day in case there is any spotting. I hate pads! They crunch when I walk and I always feel like I'm wearing a diaper.

I am pretty wiped out now. I'm not sure if it's due to the huge dosage of antibiotics I had to take today or just the stress and anticipation of it all.

Phew, I'm glad that bit is over with.

What? What? In the Butt!

*Title of this post comes from a very silly song. I saw the music video on you-tube once and it make me laugh. Now I not laughing so much.

I swear, when you begin fertility treatments there really is no more dignity.

Once I got married I figured that no other man would have the chance to gaze upon my lovely lady bits. Little did I know that when you can't get pregnant the old fashioned way, your entire body is fair game. I have lost count of the amount of times I've had to strip from the waist down and be poked and prodded,,, and never in a good way.

I get it, I really do. The part that isn't working right is down there so they have to look around if you want them to help you. It's just that sometimes I miss being that shy modest girl of years past. The one who was too embarrassed to get a bikini wax. Nowadays I have no problem stripping down for these kinds of things, even when heavily pregnant. So many people have already see it I figure what's one more?

But through all of the treatments, and the tests, and my pregnancy, and my son dying, and my emergency c-section, I had one small part of me that remained untouched. It wasn't much, but I treasured it because it was the only thing I had left.

As of tomorrow, the last barrier will broken.

I have to have and HSG, which for those of you not up with all the current medical abbreviations means getting my tubes checked. I had this done about 10 years ago when I first had trouble getting pregnant. Basically they shoot dye into your tubes and watch to make sure they are not blocked and don't have any leaks. My doctor wants me to have this done before we start the donor egg IVF cycle. He says that if my tubes were damaged in any way by my c-section then it could cause problems in future pregnancies. This procedure is quite painful and I am not looking forward to it. But I want a baby more than anything so I will do it.

The clinic here in London sends me a packet of info regarding the procedure. In this packet is a prescription for antibiotics. There is always a slight chance of infection when they put tubes up past your cervix so this is a precautionary measure. No problem! I take the slip to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled. Imagine my shock when I go back to pick up the medications. In addition to the oral antibiotics there is also one in suppository form.

What what???? I have to stick it up my butt???

High into the rectum according to the directions. Oh, and I am supposed to avoid alcohol while taking this. Seriously??? If I've gotta stick something high into my rectum I think I may need a drink first!

Crash!

Did you hear that? That's the walls protecting the last of my dignity being knocked down.

Ugh! I am so not looking forward to tomorrow.

Oh, and if any of you want a good laugh, here's the video of the song that inspired the title to this post. It's very silly and camp, but if you're at work you may want to wait until you get home before you watch it.

UK Mother's Day

It's mother's day here in the UK.

I'm trying not to be sad. 

I'm trying not to think about it too much. 

We will see how that goes. 

I think this one will be easier to ignore since it's not the mother's day I grew up with. The US one in May will be much harder for me. 

I just wish I didn't have two mother's days to get through this year. It's one of the not so fun parts of being an expat.

For all my fellow BLM's here in the UK, I hope you have a gentle day.