Goodbye 2010, I Will Be Glad to See You Go.

2010 started off so well. I had just found out I was pregnant after 7 years of trying. I was turning 40 and we were having a huge party to celebrate. I was having a great pregnancy. The CVS showed that our baby would not have Cystic Fibrosis (this was a worry since hubby and I are both carriers) and was genetically perfect. We found out we were having a boy (huge jumps for joy on the part of my husband). We were surrounded by a fabulous group of friends which is greatly appreciated since we live in a different country from our family. We went on some great vacations to places like Madrid, Dubai, and Lisbon.

Life was pretty good, in fact I remember thinking that 2010 would be the best year ever.

Then it all went wrong. I went in for my 36 week scan to find out that our son had no heartbeat. We had to break this news to our family and friends. I gave birth to my son but would never get to hear him cry or see him smile. We grieved. We had to deal with the business of the death of our infant son. I had to go to the registrars office to register his birth. I brought home his death certificate. We grieved. We had him cremated and had to pick up his ashes from the crematorium. We had his ashes blessed, and then we scattered them in a very beautiful place. Some of our family members were supportive, and some were not. We got the post mortem results. We grieved some more. We decided to celebrate Christmas  and we survived.

We are still surrounded by a fabulous group of friends and to them I am eternally grateful. Our family is in the US and without our friends being here to support us I'm not sure we would have made it. 

What started off as possibly the best year ever, turned into the worst year of my life. I've been through some things before, but nothing like this. Nothing ever prepares you for what it is like to lose a child. I feel like I've been on a rollercoaster that I can't get off. It's a rollercoaster of emotions that I hope to never have to experience again. It's exhausting.

Now that 2010 is coming to and end I am relieved. It has been a rough year and looking back I'm not sure how I survived it. I can only hope that things get better in 2011. So goodbye 2010,,, I am glad to see you go.

An Ugly Pair of Shoes

I was sent this poem by a friend and it really touched me so I thought I would share it.

An Ugly Pair of Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in the world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think of how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of the shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Author Unknown

We Survived Christmas

I am so happy and relieved that it's the 27th of December today. No more Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or Boxing Day celebrations to get through. The holidays are over for another year. Another year for me to get stronger, heal a bit more, and to hopefully find my 'new normal' before I have to face Christmas again.


I am also happy to report that we survived! Christmas is a pretty big deal around our house, especially since we are expats and live far from our family. Because of my husband's job, flying back to be with the family is not an option so we spend Christmas with just the two of us. I had dreamed of it being just the three of us this time, but that was not to be. So when we made the decision to celebrate Christmas this year I knew we were doing the right thing. I also knew it would not be easy, and I was right.

I think Christmas Eve was the toughest day. Last year on Christmas Eve was when I found out I was pregnant so it was two milestones in one. It hit my husband even harder than it hit me. As we sat together on the couch with tears streaming down our faces I was reminded how much I love this man. A man who is not afraid to show his grief and to share it with me. In a way it was nice to be able to comfort him because most of the time our roles are reversed and it is he who is comforting me.

We had been invited out for some after dinner drinks at a local pub (Ah, pubs,,, one of the things I love about England). We considered not going because of our sad moods, but then decided to go. I have to say, it was the best decision we could have made. It was the perfect end to the day. We had spent time together celebrating Christmas Eve and eating a great dinner (if I do say so myself). Then we spent some time honoring the memory of our son. Then we went out and spent some time with new friends. We talked, and joked, and laughed. It was exactly what we needed.

On Christmas Day, we opened our presents and then hubby made a fabulous breakfast. He slept off his minor hang over from the night before on the couch while I got things ready for our big dinner. Of course there was a huge baby-shaped hole in our day. It would have been so much better if our son had been with us. I imagined the toys and baby clothes that might have been wrapped under the tree. I imagined being stressed out about making dinner while taking care of baby at the same time. I imagined holding him in my arms. I imagined putting him in his cute Christmas outfit and showing him off to my family on Skype. I imagined a lot of things, but none of them would really get to happen. It was just my wonderful husband and me this year and that would have to be enough. We are all each other has left at the moment.

Boxing Day was easier. I think it's because I didn't grow up celebrating it so there's not as much of a sentimental feeling for me. I didn't do any shopping because I didn't really want to face the hoards of people out looking for bargains. The hubby had to do a bit of work in the morning and when he got back we enjoyed another huge meal.

We survived our first Christmas without our son. I cooked myself silly this holiday season. Our fridge is filled with left-overs. I made mulled wine for the first time (super yummy by the way). We lit our son's candle every day. We both ate and drank too much. We spent time together.  We cried for our baby boy.

We remembered him. We miss him.

What a Difference a Year Makes

A year ago today I found out I was pregnant. I peed on two sticks just to make sure it was really true. We were so excited! It had taken so many years to get pregnant and now it was finally happening. We excitedly told our family members and I happily passed on the wine with dinner that night. Presents were opened with joy and there was love in the air. It was our best Christmas ever.

This Christmas we are without our son. He is in heaven. We miss him terribly. This is our worst Christmas ever, but we're determined to make the best of it.

What a difference a year makes.

My Story

I've been wanting to post my story on this blog, but until today I haven't felt emotionally ready to do it.

It's up now.

You can view it by clicking on the newly added My Story tab at the top of the page, or you can click here My Story.

I know it's long, but I really needed to get it all out there.

Post Mortem Results- The Outcome

On Saturday we had our meeting to get the final post mortem results. It's a day met with both anticipation and fear. Of course, I wanted to know why my son was taken away from me a few weeks short of his due date; but at the same time I was scared at what the report might say. Would it uncover some horrible mistake I made along the way? Would it conclude that the whole thing was my fault? Would the report indicate something that would prevent me from carrying any child to term. Would the doctor say that we have no hope of ever having a child of our own?

A couple of days before our appointment, my husband asked me if I was prepared for the answer. He was concerned that if the report indicated something that I may interpret as my fault that I would never forgive myself. I lied and assured him that I could handle whatever the report said. Of course I would blame myself if the report indicated I had done something wrong. But there was no way I was not going to find out. So I told him what I think he wanted to hear. I'm not sure he believed me by the way, but I think it was important for him to at least bring up the subject for discussion.

So here it is.... our baby died because his placenta failed to do it's job. Somewhere along the line, the placenta stopped working properly. It didn't grow a large as it should have and due to some inflammation, it was unable to provide enough oxygen and nutrients to my son. According to the report, it was going on for some time and ultimately, my precious son just wasn't able to survive. None of our ultrasounds gave any indication that anything was wrong and apparently it's not something that they can really see on the scan anyway. They can't completely rule out an infection but since there was no sign of it in either the placenta or my son, that's probably not what it was.

I have mixed emotions of course. I now know what happened. I also know that it wasn't my fault. There's nothing I could have done to prevent this from happening. But my son is still dead. It wasn't obvious at any of my scans. All his measurements were perfect so there's no way the doctors could have seen it either. But I didn't get to bring him home from the hospital in his car seat and put him to sleep in his moses basket like I had planned. It's also not something that is likely to happen in future pregnancies (if I am ever so lucky to have another pregnancy). If I am fortunate enough to have another chance, I would be monitored and watched like a hawk. But this information doesn't bring him back and that's all I really want.

I got home that night and allowed myself an evening of red wine and lots of tears. Why did my body fail me? Why did this have to happen to my son? Why, why, why????

My husband was crying as well, but his tears were mostly for me. His heart is breaking to see me so devastated. He's a solution guy and he wants to be able to fix this, to fix me so I can be happy again. I remind him that this isn't something that he can just fix. I also remind him that I am having more happy days and happy moments (I know it may not seem that way based on reading my blog posts but it really is true) and that it's just going to take me some time. I know deep down he understands this, but it's just really hard for him to watch me suffer like this. I think if he could, he would take away all my pain and bear the whole burden himself. I got really lucky when I married him, he's a very special man. And for that I am eternally grateful.

P.S. Just as I was writing this I got a call from my fertility clinic. They just wanted to follow up to see how my pregnancy had gone and update their records with the outcome. Talk about being kicked when I'm down!

Me vs The Bathtub

Hubby and I decided we needed a lazy Sunday. We slept late, ate a huge fry-up breakfast, and stayed in our pajamas. In the afternoon I fancied a nice long bath with a cup of tea. I made myself a nice cup of Earl Gray tea with Elderflower (one of my favorites) and went upstairs to fill the bath.

*It's not been an easy weekend. We got the final post mortem results yesterday and I'm still processing the outcome. I'm not ready to share all that just yet but I'm sure I will be in a few days.

The water filled the bath, I could smell the fragrant bubble bath I had chosen with care. I dipped my toe in, ahhh it was the perfect temperature. As I was turning off the water, the cold water handle broke off in my hand. Rats!! I screamed loudly (well Rats was not actually the word I used but  you get the picture). Cold water was slowly continuing to run into the bath and I could not get the tap shut.

So there I am, naked with a cup of tea in one hand and the cold water handle in the other. I now make the mad dash downstairs to find some kind of tool to get the tap to turn off completely. My not handy around the house husband looks up from the computer and smilingly asks me why I'm running around the house naked. His not so subtle hopes are quickly dashed by my string of profanities about the water running upstairs and the broken tap.

It takes me about 10 minutes and several different tools to finally get the water to shut off. In the end it was a hammer that did the trick. I guess when all else fails, brute force is the way to go.

I finally got to take my bath, but it's not exactly how I'd imagined it. The water was slightly colder than I like it and so was my cup of tea. I was out of breath and anxious from my foray into indoor plumbing. But there were still bubbles and after I added more hot water (luckily that tap was still working). It was almost as relaxing as I had wanted it to be. In the battle of the bathtub vs me... I came out the winner.

Yes, We Are Having Christmas This Year

Yes, we are living in a different country than our family. Yes, we have to stay here in the UK because of my husband's job. Yes, we are still wrapped in a blanket of grief since losing our baby boy. And YES, we are having Christmas this year!!!

To be honest, we both really need it. It's been a rough road these past four months. A road full of tear-filled pot holes and gut wrenching speed bumps. It is dark and grey in London and the short days make me want to curl up in my bed and never go outside. But early on, I made a promise to myself. I promised that I would not let this tragic event become what defines me. Yes, I have lost my first and perhaps only child; and yes, I am devastated. But I absolutely cannot allow myself to become trapped in time. Christmas is here, and I love Christmas. So we are choosing to celebrate it in the best way we can.

I will be sending out Christmas cards this year. Not the usual, "The expat life is great and here's some photos of all the fabulous places we've been on vacation this year." cards that we often send. Not the, "Look, here we are with our new baby." cards I had hoped to be sending. Instead I chose a very classy black and white card with gold trim and a single black and white photo of us. Color photos just didn't seem appropriate this year. There will be no message other than Seasons Greetings and our names. Things are different this year and our cards will reflect that.

A couple of nights ago we decorated our house and tree. We played Christmas music like we always do. We also lit our son's candle. We bought two special ornaments for our son. One is of a baby boy in a blue stocking, the other is a heart that says, "In our hearts forever." Both have his name written on them. We put his ornaments up on the tree first. Then we took a few moments to express our sadness. We both cried and held each other for a while. Then we kissed and continued to decorate our tree. It looks beautiful. We also decided not to put the angel on the top of the tree because we want to leave room for our angel to come and visit. So I suppose there is an angel on the tree, just not one you can see.

I know based on reading the blogs of other baby loss moms that what we are doing is not what everyone would choose.  I completely respect and understand why for some people, the thought of celebrating a holiday is too unbearable to even comprehend. I had those thoughts as well. but ultimately we decided that the right thing for us was to go ahead. As tempting as it was to not acknowledge Christmas this year, there's something about coming home to the smell of a tree and a house full of Christmas decorations that always makes me smile. And I really need to smile these days.

It feels almost normal. In fact, it feels a lot like a new normal.

Four Months Today

It's been 4 months since we lost our son. At times it feels like it just happened yesterday and at other times it feels like it happened years ago. 4 months since we went in for our routine 36 weeks growth scan and heard the words no parents want to hear.

"There's no heartbeat."

It's still surreal to me in many ways. Unlike many women in similar situations, I had no idea anything was wrong. I thought I was feeling him moving. Even after they told us, I still thought I could feel him moving. I suppose what I was feeling was his body floating around responding to my movements. But it was such a shock when we saw his lifeless body on the ultrasound machine because I really had no idea he was already gone. How is it possible that I didn't know? What kind of mother does that make me?

Today in the shower I had a flashback. It was of the day I was released from the hospital. I was still sore and hunched over from the C-Section. My husband helped me slowly get into the taxi with my suitcase. I was wearing one of my bright orange maternity tops. I had two of them. I don't usually wear orange but being pregnant made me feel so happy and sunny that orange seemed like the perfect color match to my mood. But the day I left the hospital was a different story.

I cried all the way home in my sunny orange top. I was not bringing home a baby, he was being taken away to have a post mortem conducted. My husband and I were sitting in the taxi alone. Instead of holding our son, we were holding each other. This was not the ride home I was supposed to be taking. My body and spirit were broken, what on earth was I going to do now?

Now, 4 months on I am still asking myself that same question. What am I going to do now?

A Fab Lunch- Part 2- What Happened Next

A couple of days ago I went to this great holiday lunch and had a very uncomfortable encounter. I wrote about it here and had promised to tell what happened next. Little did I know at the time, but there would be even more to tell as the week went on.

After the woman (I'll call her Friend B) who had asked me how my little one was had finished listening to the explanation of where in fact my little one was by my other friend (I'll call her Friend A), she made some awkward excuses and quickly shuffled off back to her table. I saw her whispering to the woman sitting next to her and them both shaking their heads while at the same time trying to look like they weren't talking about me. You've all seen that not-so-subtle lean and whisper thing that people do which in actual fact draws more attention than just talking normally.

Had anyone else noticed this exchange? As I fearfully glanced around my table it was clear that no one had. Relief! I did my best to fight back the tears that were slowly finding their way into my eyes. Friend A, being the absolute star that she is, helped a lot in this endeavor. I surprised myself with my ability to recover quickly and soon I was chatting, drinking, and enjoying myself again. In a way I felt bad for Friend B more than I felt bad for myself.

I suppose I need to get used to dealing with situations like this don't I?

I had been thinking about sending an email to Friend B after our lunch on Wednesday. I wasn't sure what to say, but I just wanted to make sure things wouldn't be weird between us going forward. I decided to wait a few days to give me time to come up with just the right words.

But the email would not be necessary because of course I run into Friend B the very next day in town. Amazing coincidence or maybe the universe pushing us together??? Who knows! But this person who I haven't seen since June I have now seen two days in a row. We are both in the same tiny shop which is beginning to feel even smaller.

I instantly feel my face flush and that anxious feeling bubbling in my stomach. "Just breathe and smile," I tell myself. She's with her daughter and a few other friends also with their children as it's school run time. We exchange greetings and then she is distracted by her daughter. We're all in this shop for a bit, each doing our own thing in that weird -I'm not looking at you, but really I'm looking at you- way.

As I'm making my way out, she comes over to me and gives me a big hug. The kind of hug that makes you feel all happy and warm inside. All the anxiety I'm feeling melts away. She is so sorry about our awkward exchange from the other day. She is even more sad that I have lost my son. We chat a bit about how it happened and how I am doing now. The air in the shop becomes lighter and both us are able to breathe easier. The awkwardness is gone.

I am so glad I was able to see her and talk in person. Talking in person is so much better than talking over email.