Because We Don't Trust Me

Every baby book and advice website tells you the same thing. Trust your instincts, listen to your gut, you will have a sense if something is wrong. Doctors and midwives say it too. It sounds so reassuring when you read it or hear it out loud. As if nothing can go wrong if only you listen to your inner voice and pay attention to your body.

But what happens if history shows that you have no instinct, no gut, and you will have no idea if anything is wrong? What if your inner voice tells you things are fine when they aren't. What if your body gives you false hope? What do you do then?? That my friends is the dilemma The Hubby and I are currently facing.

You see, my son died inside my womb and for at least a week and I HAD NO IDEA.


That's right, I had no idea anything was wrong. I remember writing about it four months after he was born. At that time I was still wracked with guilt for not noticing. For not being able to sound the alarm and save him. I played the what if game a lot back then. Blaming myself, trying to think back to when the feelings of movement changed, when they slowed down. Even in hindsight I have been unable to pinpoint the moment when he left us.

As time has gone on I have learned to forgive myself. I know that there is no way I would have happily gone through my days if I had any inkling that something was wrong.

The hardest part to forgive was the fact that I gave The Hubby the impression that everything was OK when it wasn't. Our husbands rely on us to tell them everything about how the pregnancy is going. They don't carry the baby and as a result, they are on the outside looking in. They depend on us to communicate with them, and to let them know if something is wrong. That's where I failed big time.

I've been starting to feel Frosty moving around. It's a wonderful thing to feel your baby moving and kicking. I had forgotten how happy those little kicks and flutters make me. Every time I feel something I happily announce it to The Hubby. He's just as thrilled as I am for this newest development. However, this has also raised some new anxiety for him.

When he doesn't get a kick report from me, he will ask me if I've felt anything. If I say no then he gets worried. I tried to assure him that I shouldn't feel Frosty all the time but this didn't help. A day or two went by before he shared his fears with me. He's worried that something will happen and we won't know again,,, like last time. And neither of us wants to go through that pain and shock again. 

We both fear that I don't really know what a kick or a flutter is. After all, I swore I could feel my son moving, even after we knew he was dead. So maybe I just can't tell the difference between baby existing inside of me vs baby actually moving inside of me. So as a result of my past history,,, we don't trust me to know if things are going wrong.

Not cheap, but worth every penny

So we have decided to buy a home doppler. I was against it for a long time thinking it might make me more paranoid. But after seeing the fear and worry on The Hubby's face I think it's our best option. We both need to be able to feel reassured that things are OK. Not just based on what I think I'm feeling, but based on actually hearing Frosty's little heartbeat. So I placed the order and now we're just waiting for it to arrive.

The Shift

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Great Idea, Thanks To You!

Have I mentioned recently how amazing my bloggy friends are? Well if I haven't done it lately let me do it now.

You guys are awesome!

I just wrote about not wanting to have a baby shower because it would be a flashback minefield for me. I was pondering doing something after (here's me being hopeful again) the baby is born. I asked for suggestions about what to do and how to avoid calling it a baby shower.

I got some great responses from that post and I learned a thing or two as well. I knew that British women don't really do baby showers (although the idea is growing in popularity), but I didn't realize it was considered bad luck. I also didn't realize that many Jewish people won't do a shower before the baby is born. Although having been to many a baby shower for my Jewish friends I'm guessing this rule is flexible.

I also learned about a Southern US tradition that I had never heard of before. It's called a Sip 'N' See party. According to this website that the lovely SG shared with me, a Sip 'N' See party is a baby shower you have after the baby is born. Guests come over to "sip" drinks and "see" the new baby. It can be casual or more formal and is often done open house style where guests are given a time frame and can come and go as they please.

I absolutely love this idea! It seems like a perfect way to celebrate a new baby without all the painful memories of baby showers past. So thanks to all of you who commented and suggested such a great idea. I will be passing this idea on to my friends who want to throw me a shower.

No Baby Shower For Me

A while back I wrote about the tricky subject of being invited to a baby shower after dealing with infertility or losing a child. Of course in my case, both of these issue apply... lucky me.

I was proud of myself that in the end I was brave enough to say no and not attend. I wrote about that as well, take a read if you wish. Now I'm faced with another baby shower dilemma, do I want one for me?

I knew it was only a matter of time before the idea of having a baby shower was presented to me. I also knew that my answer would have to be no this time. I just can't imagine getting through another baby shower with the memory of what happened the last time still so fresh in my head. When you lose your son 3 weeks after your baby shower, it doesn't exactly make you want to rush out and have another one.

I've been amazed and impressed when reading the blogs of other Baby Loss Moms who don't seem to have this same issue. I've read their posts about their wonderful baby showers and seen them smiling in the photos with total amazement. I know it's never good to compare yourself to others but I wonder how they are able to manage it?

Please don't think I'm judging my fellow BLM's. I would NEVER do that. I'm actually happy for them that they are able to embrace the day and honor their rainbow babies in such a special way with their family and friends. I suppose I'm jealous that they aren't crippled by their fear the way I obviously am. I'm jealous that I can't have a shower for this baby like I was able to do for my son.

Oh how I wish I could get to that place where I could make it through a shower for Frosty without having a total meltdown. That place where I could embrace this pregnancy with the same joy and excitement as my last one. That place where I wasn't so afraid to have anything baby related in my house.

Oh yes, you read that correctly. I can't have ANY baby items in this house before we have an actual living baby in it first.

So no baby shower for me! Not until this baby is born healthy and alive.

Instead, I've agreed to have a shower after (see, here's me being positive) Frosty is born. I don't know anyone who has done this, but I'm sure it happens. I suppose the day will be a bit different than your normal baby shower,,, in fact maybe we won't even call it a baby shower. Maybe I'll have to think of a different name for it.

I'm open to suggestions about what to call it. Also, if you know of anyone else who has done it this way, I'd love to hear how it went.