It's been three months since we said goodbye to our little boy. He grew his wings on a Sunday, and we found out that following Wednesday. So where the actual "3 month" mark is, I'm not sure. In my memory, those days all blurred together, like some bad dream.
3 months ago our world fell apart, the carpet ripped out from under us. It was dark, and bleak. I don't remember hours, or days, just stretches of time. Albert Einstein said that time slows down as we approach the speed of light (quantum physics), but honestly, time halted for us during the first two months. Each day was marked by milestones and tv shows and mealtimes when we had the girls. I don't remember looking at a clock, or caring what time it was. I still don't pay attention to time as much as I used to. Its just not important anymore. What's important is spending the time doing quality things. Instead of scheduling something so that we had to be someplace at a certain time, now I'll get there when we get there. Bedtime has been flexible to whatever we are doing as a family.
I know my mantra especially in those first few weeks, and still today, is taking it day by day. I don't know what tomorrow will be, or what will happen. I know what is happening now, and what we might want to do later.
When you plan for a baby you look forward to the 9 months of carrying that baby. You know the timing, up the day when you are going to meet your little one for the first time. We were cheated of that. Instead of looking forward to March 28th, and getting to deliver and hold our son, we are planning a memorial service locally for him. I have already taken the day off of work. But nothing is planned because you just don't know what is going to happen between now and then. Nothing is guaranteed. I just know that I am setting aside that day to remember my son, and mourn the fact that while I won't be meeting him on that particular day that we had been counting down to, I know that someday I will be meeting him. But there's no set time.
Time seems to have gone on for the rest of the world. In the last three months, we have friends getting married, friends who have little ones growing and making milestones. We have our girls who have their own lives they are living. Allie made Student of the Month, and Emily just had her fifth birthday. I know the world continues to move on, but in my mind, everything is in slow motion. Time seems to have slowed down.
I am also reflecting on the differences in me from the first 2 months, and this last month. I know I am making progress in healing. I know that we are moving on too, although never forgetting our little Robbie. The first two months I could barely function outside of my own head and emotions. Lately, I've been making my own lessons at school again. I feel my energy is back in the classroom, and the kids are seeing a difference as well. I had my daughter's party yesterday, and while there were siblings there around 1-2 years old, I didn't break down and cry. I was amazed at how cute and small they are, and almost in my grief I had forgotten all the joys of motherhood in those first few years. But I know that I want to still have that chance again, to change diapers, and hear them giggle, and cry, and try to be independent and be a big kid when they are still so young and dependent!
Time is a funny thing. For most of my life time just flew by, and I just moved from one thing to another. After Robbie, I am learning that time is really meaningless in hours and days. Time is valuable when you use it to spend with the ones you love, with no time restraints!
The last three months have felt like an endless eternity. I have been existing in a fog, and only now is the fog beginning to lift. And this fog has distorted my sense of time. My family has a lot to look forward too, and while it hurts so much that Robbie won't be with us physically to share it, I know he is looking out for us, and in a blink of an eye we will be with him, and sharing stories and memories! And time won't matter in the least!!
Robbie--I love you so much. Even though my heart aches to hold you, and feel you kick, I know you are watching over all of us. Your sister even writes in her diary about you. I know she misses you too. I know your dad thinks its silly, but our song always plays at the times I need to know you are ok, and still with me. And I know its your way of letting me know you are watching over us all. Please watch over your little brother or sister---and let them know how much we love you, and how much they are loved too! But let him/her know who you are so that they can tell us a little about you, maybe, one day. Love Mommy
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Pictures
So I was browsing through pictures from this summer, without realizing the memories they would stir up. But its bittersweet. I want to share some with you. These were mostly all taken during a road trip Mario and I took from Flanders, NJ to Niagara Falls (Canada side) to Hershey Park.
This is me and Mario watching the hot air balloon festival with our friends Michelle and Mike. I was about 7-8 weeks pregnant.
Me and my college friend Michelle (pregnant with her son Drew)
Having dinner in Niagara Falls, the first night. My husband thought this was my baby bump, because my tummy had always been firm and flat.
In Niagara Falls, 7-8 weeks pregnant.
Our Summer of 2010 road trip
On the maid of the mist in Niagara Falls.
Yup, that's Mario, in the front of the roller coaster. Since I was pregnant, I was told "absolutely no rides" by my doctor. We planned this trip before we were pregnant, but I still wanted Mario to have some fun! So I was the photographer, and he got to ride the rides!
I wanted ice cream, so we went to the Hershey Studio place where you make your own sundae. It was cute, but over priced. This is how Mario got creative.
Yup, bittersweet. You can't tell me we weren't excited.
My lovely baby bump--I took these to send to my mom because I thought I was too big for how far along I was. It turns out, except for the professional bump shots I had taken (and still need to get), these are the only bump pics I have. Next time I'll be taking more! Really, these are my only shots of Robbie...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Little Triggers
I know I haven't blogged for a while, but I've been so tired at night, and have had so much going on during the day. I guess its good that i'm super busy, it keeps the days going by faster, and I'm sleeping through the night in a deep sleep.
But last night I started teasing my husband about what plans was he making for my birthday. See, for the last 4 years that we've been together, he has forgotten my birthday every year, and I ended up making plans for myself. So a little background (and know that I love my husband very much, but his track record with planning birthdays is not great!):
The first year I was fortunate and had 2 great girlfriends who took me to AC for a night, and we had a very expensive, very tasty dessert, then dinner hours later!
The second year we were supposed to go to Sea Isle and stay in a friend's house for a weekend (us and the girls)...which I organized. But then I received an offer on my house, and stayed home that Friday we were supposed to leave to go down to the shore to pack up the dining room. My girls were acting up, and unpacking everything I had packed. Plus the weather was cold and miserable, so I cancelled it. The next day I decided "let's still go to ocean city and get some mack and manco's"...in the rain and wind. My oldest decided to have a temper tantrum in the pizza shop, and we went home, with no pizza and chilled to the bone. Happy birthday to me.
The 3rd year was my 30th birthday--I had been hinting at it for weeks, and while I didn't want anything big, I did want it acknowledged. He made no plans. Nothing, nada. The day before I turned the big "30" I learned he honestly didn't make any plans. So I called up some friends and we went to PF Chang's for dinner--just 5 of us. But I had to make the plans.
Then there was last year, the 4th year. I guilted him all year about dropping the ball on my 30th birthday, hoping something would spur him on. But, apparently not. I had to make last minute plans with dear friends to go out to dinner. Unfortunately (or fortunately for Mario), that was the night an hour before our friends were due to arrive we learned our basement started to flood. Therefore, we spent the whole night and into the next morning getting rugs and carpets and toys out of the basement and upstairs. Fun (well, at least memorable).
So onto the present...we were excited because I would be 9 months pregnant, weeks away from having our son, and celebrating our life. See, I was foolish enough to think that me saying I wanted to have my third child by the time I was 32 meant the universe would listen. But our plans are meaningless.
Last night I was teasing him about our plans for my birthday this year, only to learn that he hasn't even thought about it, or planned anything, again! Not even dinner out. And i'm giving him 5 weeks notice!!
So as I was teasing him, suddenly the tears began to fall, and next thing we knew I was in a heap on the floor, a mess of sobs, snot, and cries. I was supposed to be planning my maternity leave. I was supposed to be waddling around with a cute (while large) belly, knowing that my little boy would be greeting us in a short amount of time. I was supposed to be celebrating my birthday, not being sad about the path my life had taken.
It just sucks. Here I was moving along, actually doing quite well (yes, pat myself on the back), taking everything in stride and day by day (which my friends and family know is not me at all). And one little thing just set me off.
I know March is going to be a difficult month, just like next November and December when the anniversaries come around. I thought though I would have January and February to prepare myself. I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotion that hit me just trying to plan something as innocent as my birthday.
I can just hope that my 32nd year will be better than my 31st!
But last night I started teasing my husband about what plans was he making for my birthday. See, for the last 4 years that we've been together, he has forgotten my birthday every year, and I ended up making plans for myself. So a little background (and know that I love my husband very much, but his track record with planning birthdays is not great!):
The first year I was fortunate and had 2 great girlfriends who took me to AC for a night, and we had a very expensive, very tasty dessert, then dinner hours later!
The second year we were supposed to go to Sea Isle and stay in a friend's house for a weekend (us and the girls)...which I organized. But then I received an offer on my house, and stayed home that Friday we were supposed to leave to go down to the shore to pack up the dining room. My girls were acting up, and unpacking everything I had packed. Plus the weather was cold and miserable, so I cancelled it. The next day I decided "let's still go to ocean city and get some mack and manco's"...in the rain and wind. My oldest decided to have a temper tantrum in the pizza shop, and we went home, with no pizza and chilled to the bone. Happy birthday to me.
The 3rd year was my 30th birthday--I had been hinting at it for weeks, and while I didn't want anything big, I did want it acknowledged. He made no plans. Nothing, nada. The day before I turned the big "30" I learned he honestly didn't make any plans. So I called up some friends and we went to PF Chang's for dinner--just 5 of us. But I had to make the plans.
Then there was last year, the 4th year. I guilted him all year about dropping the ball on my 30th birthday, hoping something would spur him on. But, apparently not. I had to make last minute plans with dear friends to go out to dinner. Unfortunately (or fortunately for Mario), that was the night an hour before our friends were due to arrive we learned our basement started to flood. Therefore, we spent the whole night and into the next morning getting rugs and carpets and toys out of the basement and upstairs. Fun (well, at least memorable).
So onto the present...we were excited because I would be 9 months pregnant, weeks away from having our son, and celebrating our life. See, I was foolish enough to think that me saying I wanted to have my third child by the time I was 32 meant the universe would listen. But our plans are meaningless.
Last night I was teasing him about our plans for my birthday this year, only to learn that he hasn't even thought about it, or planned anything, again! Not even dinner out. And i'm giving him 5 weeks notice!!
So as I was teasing him, suddenly the tears began to fall, and next thing we knew I was in a heap on the floor, a mess of sobs, snot, and cries. I was supposed to be planning my maternity leave. I was supposed to be waddling around with a cute (while large) belly, knowing that my little boy would be greeting us in a short amount of time. I was supposed to be celebrating my birthday, not being sad about the path my life had taken.
It just sucks. Here I was moving along, actually doing quite well (yes, pat myself on the back), taking everything in stride and day by day (which my friends and family know is not me at all). And one little thing just set me off.
I know March is going to be a difficult month, just like next November and December when the anniversaries come around. I thought though I would have January and February to prepare myself. I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotion that hit me just trying to plan something as innocent as my birthday.
I can just hope that my 32nd year will be better than my 31st!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Happiness
Ok, so its been a rough couple of weeks--I came down with this nasty cold that my husband gave to me over christmas break despite taking airborne, vitamin c and the gummy vitamins for immunity. Darn! But to top it off, the day I felt the worst (and apparently looked the worst), and had no voice I was observed for school by the assistant superintendent. And it was the same day that I found out my grandmother was being rushed in to surgery at 2:30 that afternoon, on the heels of an impending snowstorm, after falling down the stairs and fracturing her ankle in 3 places.
And if that wasn't enough for 1 day, I was also waiting to hear if an important letter was hand delivered to the superintendent regarding a situation at work. So to say my nerves were a bit rattled would be an understatement. So to walk into my third period, and see the assistant superintendent on my heels, I shrugged my shoulders and told myself it is what it is. Just do what comes naturally, and know that when I'm with my students, I am confident I am a good teacher. Honestly, for the book that I was told I have to follow word by word for this year, it was a boring lesson, and not something that I would normally be okay doing with the kids. But I was told to follow this new book by the letter (its scripted), and so I did, to the dismay of the students. The lesson was bad, and there just wasn't anyway without going off script that I could help it. But overall, it was a pretty typical day.
So a week and a half later, I meet with her to go over my post-observation. One of the first things she says to me is "How are you doing?". I replied honestly, "I'm making it day by day-thanks for asking." She then goes on to ask/tell me if I am happy, because the teacher she saw during the observation was not the same teacher she saw a year ago (well, yeah, duh!). She wanted to know if I was happy at my school. Because my face just isn't the same, neither is my demeanor. Not that I was negative, just not as excited or involved as I was last year, or during my demo lesson when I interviewed. She then told me she understood that I am going through a major traumatic experience, and that there is a part of me that is still grieving (again, duh!), but she just got the feeling that I was stressed and anxious and not enjoying my job anymore.
What do you say? What could I do? I actually have thought that in the last few weeks I have been coming out of the fog that is now my existence. I thought I was doing okay at work...joking with the kids, doing my thing, talking with co-workers. Yes, there are days I have to put the sad Stacey away and focus on getting through each class period. And my co-workers have told me that when I have rough days, they know, but its no different than any other teacher having a bad day. But to have her tell me that I look different, and I am just not the same, I just was speechless. How do you respond except by repeating that you are happy, and if you didn't like where you worked, you certainly wouldn't have come back as soon as I did after the baby?
Last week my aunt told my husband he looked sad. He told me later in the car, and he was confused too. So last night we talked about the fact that we keep getting comments about how sad we look, or how anxious we seem to be. And we came to the conclusion that we are doing the best we can, and to us, we are operating somewhat normally in the real world. We aren't going to be "normal". We are finding a new normal, our new selves after Robert died. It took me 28 years to find out who I was and be comfortable in that. I've been living 3 years comfortable knowing who I am. Now that has all changed--and I don't know what that means as far as people's perception of me.
But as far as happiness goes, I hope I can be happy again. I know that watching my daughters when they aren't fighting makes me happy, watching my dog act like an idiot over a stuffed cat makes me happy, and spending time with my husband makes me happy. But there are those moments when I realize life isn't what I thought it was, and I am sad. I am trying to make the best out of it, and learn to go through each day to find a bit of happiness. I am fortunate that my family and friends have helped with this.
Mario and I agreed that we really think people who tell us we "look sad" or "unhappy" are actually just projecting their feelings onto us. We are the pitied couple right now. People see us, and feel sorry for us. And in turn, they project those feelings onto us, and assume we are just sad or unhappy.
So, my response to am I happy?....Yes, I am happy. It's just not as frequent as I used to be. My moments of unhappiness/ sadness are so much greater and stronger than I have ever felt, but that is okay that I feel like that. I am supposed to feel like that. I am still grieving! I enjoy every moment in the classroom. I love my co-workers, and the support I have received through everything! I will try a little harder to bring a little more of "me" into my lessons like you suggested, and see if that makes a difference in my appearance. I don't know why I look different, but I am different. I try to hide my sadness at work, but it doesn't mean I am any lesser of a teacher because I am going through this.
I miss my son, I miss being pregnant. Not a day goes by I don't think I should be _____ weeks along, and doing __________- (any activities to prepare for the baby). But I am hopeful that maybe he'll be ready to come down from heaven soon, and we will finally get to meet.
Robbie---I miss you and feeling you move at night. I hate when I get the phantom kicks--its just another reminder that you aren't there anymore. But thank you for the song on Wednesday--I had no idea it would be so rough walking in. But everytime it plays, its just when I need it, and I know you are looking over me. I love you! Mommy
And if that wasn't enough for 1 day, I was also waiting to hear if an important letter was hand delivered to the superintendent regarding a situation at work. So to say my nerves were a bit rattled would be an understatement. So to walk into my third period, and see the assistant superintendent on my heels, I shrugged my shoulders and told myself it is what it is. Just do what comes naturally, and know that when I'm with my students, I am confident I am a good teacher. Honestly, for the book that I was told I have to follow word by word for this year, it was a boring lesson, and not something that I would normally be okay doing with the kids. But I was told to follow this new book by the letter (its scripted), and so I did, to the dismay of the students. The lesson was bad, and there just wasn't anyway without going off script that I could help it. But overall, it was a pretty typical day.
So a week and a half later, I meet with her to go over my post-observation. One of the first things she says to me is "How are you doing?". I replied honestly, "I'm making it day by day-thanks for asking." She then goes on to ask/tell me if I am happy, because the teacher she saw during the observation was not the same teacher she saw a year ago (well, yeah, duh!). She wanted to know if I was happy at my school. Because my face just isn't the same, neither is my demeanor. Not that I was negative, just not as excited or involved as I was last year, or during my demo lesson when I interviewed. She then told me she understood that I am going through a major traumatic experience, and that there is a part of me that is still grieving (again, duh!), but she just got the feeling that I was stressed and anxious and not enjoying my job anymore.
What do you say? What could I do? I actually have thought that in the last few weeks I have been coming out of the fog that is now my existence. I thought I was doing okay at work...joking with the kids, doing my thing, talking with co-workers. Yes, there are days I have to put the sad Stacey away and focus on getting through each class period. And my co-workers have told me that when I have rough days, they know, but its no different than any other teacher having a bad day. But to have her tell me that I look different, and I am just not the same, I just was speechless. How do you respond except by repeating that you are happy, and if you didn't like where you worked, you certainly wouldn't have come back as soon as I did after the baby?
Last week my aunt told my husband he looked sad. He told me later in the car, and he was confused too. So last night we talked about the fact that we keep getting comments about how sad we look, or how anxious we seem to be. And we came to the conclusion that we are doing the best we can, and to us, we are operating somewhat normally in the real world. We aren't going to be "normal". We are finding a new normal, our new selves after Robert died. It took me 28 years to find out who I was and be comfortable in that. I've been living 3 years comfortable knowing who I am. Now that has all changed--and I don't know what that means as far as people's perception of me.
But as far as happiness goes, I hope I can be happy again. I know that watching my daughters when they aren't fighting makes me happy, watching my dog act like an idiot over a stuffed cat makes me happy, and spending time with my husband makes me happy. But there are those moments when I realize life isn't what I thought it was, and I am sad. I am trying to make the best out of it, and learn to go through each day to find a bit of happiness. I am fortunate that my family and friends have helped with this.
Mario and I agreed that we really think people who tell us we "look sad" or "unhappy" are actually just projecting their feelings onto us. We are the pitied couple right now. People see us, and feel sorry for us. And in turn, they project those feelings onto us, and assume we are just sad or unhappy.
So, my response to am I happy?....Yes, I am happy. It's just not as frequent as I used to be. My moments of unhappiness/ sadness are so much greater and stronger than I have ever felt, but that is okay that I feel like that. I am supposed to feel like that. I am still grieving! I enjoy every moment in the classroom. I love my co-workers, and the support I have received through everything! I will try a little harder to bring a little more of "me" into my lessons like you suggested, and see if that makes a difference in my appearance. I don't know why I look different, but I am different. I try to hide my sadness at work, but it doesn't mean I am any lesser of a teacher because I am going through this.
I miss my son, I miss being pregnant. Not a day goes by I don't think I should be _____ weeks along, and doing __________- (any activities to prepare for the baby). But I am hopeful that maybe he'll be ready to come down from heaven soon, and we will finally get to meet.
Robbie---I miss you and feeling you move at night. I hate when I get the phantom kicks--its just another reminder that you aren't there anymore. But thank you for the song on Wednesday--I had no idea it would be so rough walking in. But everytime it plays, its just when I need it, and I know you are looking over me. I love you! Mommy
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Protection
I have been doing so well for about a week. After the family fall out, Mario and I were able to talk and get on the same page, and really hash out some issues that we had brewing from early on in the pregnancy. Mainly, confrontational issues. If you know me, you know that I like to just settle things right away, put things on the table, and argue and yell and get it all out and resolved. Mario doesn't. So in trying to protect me so that I don't get upset, he pushes issues aside and doesn't tell people the truth about what is wrong, which means that they continue their insulting behavior. Which in turns makes me more upset! And round and round we go until I finally just handle it, and the situation is resolved--normally not so well because it has been festering for so long, but at least the truth is out. But this past weekend, thanks to my mother in law, my husband saw that in order to protect me from getting upset, if you just tell people the truth at the start, perhaps they won't like it, but then at least it won't drag out for weeks! While he didn't say the truth of what was going on, my mother in law didn't mince words, and within 25 minutes my stress was gone (well, i was still upset for how they had hurt us, but the stress of confrontation was over).
Protection...everyone has tried so hard to protect these last 2 months. From needless worry, anxiety, stress, decision making, family issues. Our moms have been doing what moms do best--calling and checking on us daily, listening and offering advice, and when needed, arguing for us (and for them). But the kicker of the situation is that the things they are trying to protect us from now are so petty and minute compared to the loss of our son--that no one could have protected us from. My husband couldn't protect me from the procedures, from bleeding so much in the hospital, from the harsh reality that my baby bump just seemed to disappear overnight. I couldn't protect him from the fact that he doesn't get to feel his son kick, or hold his son in 2 months. Neither of us can protect each other of the hurt we feel when we walk into the nursery, and where the glider and crib should be, instead is an urn with the cremains of our son, with the only pictures we have of him on the wall. We can't protect each other from the reality that even if we try again, and are blessed with another baby, we might suffer this heartache again.
Today I have been feeling odd. Almost like I'm on the verge of a bad day. But nothing has really happened to make me feel this way. Yes, I had to go out and help him shovel again, when I mentally kept reminding myself that I should have been inside, but that doesn't matter right now. There is no baby in my uterus...I can push myself as hard as I want. Except that my body has tricked itself into thinking that I might still be carrying a child, and even though I have been exercising like crazy, and watching my diet, my body has apparently put itself into starvation mode, and I am not losing any weight at all. Nobody could have protected me from the hurt I feel about my body just not cooperating so I can fit into my old clothes. (although i love my cousin who told me i'm still skinny). There's just some things you have to muddle through because there is no short cut or easy option. Sometimes people can't protect you, as much as they want too.
So Sunday, after all of our revelations and realizations that we have to be clearer in what we need to feel safe and protected with each other (and our families), we ran to target. (Side note...my daughter was with her dad, and had to be rushed to the ER because she fell on the floor and put a deep gash in her chin...5 stitches later she was discharged and numb, and we had an afternoon out that we weren't anticipating). We picked up the normal items, and found ourselves walking right past the baby aisle to get to the registers. I have successfully avoided baby sections (hah---i was protecting myself). But I wanted to see the price of a jogger stroller---the cause of his cousin making another rift between him and her, to see really, what was the big deal. It was only $100--apparently the price to insult and hurt your cousin beyond words, and then tell him your relationship was over. He and I had no idea it was so low, and went ok. That is actually a reasonably priced object, and when we'll need it (6 months after a baby is born) we should be able to manage to buy it. But while we were in the aisle, I choose to just look at the baby items. Mario was hesitant, because he didn't want me to hurt and break down, but allowed us to wander around. See, while we never registered, or picked out a pattern for the pack and play, stroller/travel system, and high chair, we never found a new one we liked. The weekend before we found out about our baby, I had contacted several people, and had plans to purchase their used items that we liked more. I had everything lined up, all the staples plus a breast pump. We were going to pick them up the weekend before Thanksgiving. The only thing we had actually picked out was the bedding.
But the first item we saw was an Eddie Bauer highchair--the old fashioned wood looking kind--not the big plastic kind. We really liked it. We liked the cushion too. So Mario went and found the stroller system, and called me over, and we both loved it! We found the pack and play, and realized that we actually loved this pattern!
See, his cousin and I traded jogger strollers a while back--my double for her single. When we found out the baby died, I returned any baby items I had except the jogger. I just didn't need the reminders of what we had lost. But the stroller, which was needed for a 6month old or older baby, was the one piece of hope we were holding onto that maybe, maybe we would try again, and get our take home baby. It was in the garage, so we could go and glance at it, and take a deep breathe and know that maybe we would be able to move past the darkness and sadness, and try again. When his cousin demanded it back, because they needed it now, and wouldn't trade back the stroller, it struck a nerve with us. It was like they were telling us that we weren't going to ever need it again. They were assuming that because our baby died at 5 months, we weren't going to get an opportunity to try again and succeed, so they just wanted it back and didn't want to return our double stroller because they still needed it. We are sensitive, and we are allowed to be right now. But how they handled this situation was just wrong. And its something my husband won't get over anytime soon. We did end up deciding that it was better for us as a couple, and future parents, to just give them the damn stroller, and buy a new one with no negativity attached to it (or those who were not wishing us well).
Anyway, back to Target. We now have no baby stuff, nothing. I felt hopeless-I had nothing to cling too besides memories. But here we were, looking at a pattern we absolutely adore. It took so much self control not to buy all three pieces on the spot...because he and i looked at each other, and acknowledged that we were crazy, but we wanted something tangible to hold on to. We never ordered the crib, we never bought baby clothes. To protect ourselves in case something bad happened (which it did), we didn't buy anything that might remind us of what we lost. But in doing that, we were left with empty arms, and an empty room, and no hope of a bright future. I know that he and I want to buy the baby items now to protect us from the reminder that there might not be a baby in 2 months, but it doesn't mean it won't even happen. In protecting ourselves from hurting, we actually ended up being more hurt because we lost hope. I hope that makes sense, because while it makes sense to me, it may not to anyone else.
So we controlled ourselves, and called our moms to see if we were crazy. We were told we weren't. We then decided that one paycheck a month we are going to go out and buy one item for our next baby. We don't know when that will be, but who knows, maybe when we are done buying all these baby items we'll get the biggest surprise of all-a second chance. And the next time, I don't think he or I will try to distance ourselves from the baby, but instead embrace and enjoy everything moment we will have. Sometimes protection isn't always a good thing because you miss out on all the little moments you won't release/open your heart too.
Protection...everyone has tried so hard to protect these last 2 months. From needless worry, anxiety, stress, decision making, family issues. Our moms have been doing what moms do best--calling and checking on us daily, listening and offering advice, and when needed, arguing for us (and for them). But the kicker of the situation is that the things they are trying to protect us from now are so petty and minute compared to the loss of our son--that no one could have protected us from. My husband couldn't protect me from the procedures, from bleeding so much in the hospital, from the harsh reality that my baby bump just seemed to disappear overnight. I couldn't protect him from the fact that he doesn't get to feel his son kick, or hold his son in 2 months. Neither of us can protect each other of the hurt we feel when we walk into the nursery, and where the glider and crib should be, instead is an urn with the cremains of our son, with the only pictures we have of him on the wall. We can't protect each other from the reality that even if we try again, and are blessed with another baby, we might suffer this heartache again.
Today I have been feeling odd. Almost like I'm on the verge of a bad day. But nothing has really happened to make me feel this way. Yes, I had to go out and help him shovel again, when I mentally kept reminding myself that I should have been inside, but that doesn't matter right now. There is no baby in my uterus...I can push myself as hard as I want. Except that my body has tricked itself into thinking that I might still be carrying a child, and even though I have been exercising like crazy, and watching my diet, my body has apparently put itself into starvation mode, and I am not losing any weight at all. Nobody could have protected me from the hurt I feel about my body just not cooperating so I can fit into my old clothes. (although i love my cousin who told me i'm still skinny). There's just some things you have to muddle through because there is no short cut or easy option. Sometimes people can't protect you, as much as they want too.
So Sunday, after all of our revelations and realizations that we have to be clearer in what we need to feel safe and protected with each other (and our families), we ran to target. (Side note...my daughter was with her dad, and had to be rushed to the ER because she fell on the floor and put a deep gash in her chin...5 stitches later she was discharged and numb, and we had an afternoon out that we weren't anticipating). We picked up the normal items, and found ourselves walking right past the baby aisle to get to the registers. I have successfully avoided baby sections (hah---i was protecting myself). But I wanted to see the price of a jogger stroller---the cause of his cousin making another rift between him and her, to see really, what was the big deal. It was only $100--apparently the price to insult and hurt your cousin beyond words, and then tell him your relationship was over. He and I had no idea it was so low, and went ok. That is actually a reasonably priced object, and when we'll need it (6 months after a baby is born) we should be able to manage to buy it. But while we were in the aisle, I choose to just look at the baby items. Mario was hesitant, because he didn't want me to hurt and break down, but allowed us to wander around. See, while we never registered, or picked out a pattern for the pack and play, stroller/travel system, and high chair, we never found a new one we liked. The weekend before we found out about our baby, I had contacted several people, and had plans to purchase their used items that we liked more. I had everything lined up, all the staples plus a breast pump. We were going to pick them up the weekend before Thanksgiving. The only thing we had actually picked out was the bedding.
But the first item we saw was an Eddie Bauer highchair--the old fashioned wood looking kind--not the big plastic kind. We really liked it. We liked the cushion too. So Mario went and found the stroller system, and called me over, and we both loved it! We found the pack and play, and realized that we actually loved this pattern!
See, his cousin and I traded jogger strollers a while back--my double for her single. When we found out the baby died, I returned any baby items I had except the jogger. I just didn't need the reminders of what we had lost. But the stroller, which was needed for a 6month old or older baby, was the one piece of hope we were holding onto that maybe, maybe we would try again, and get our take home baby. It was in the garage, so we could go and glance at it, and take a deep breathe and know that maybe we would be able to move past the darkness and sadness, and try again. When his cousin demanded it back, because they needed it now, and wouldn't trade back the stroller, it struck a nerve with us. It was like they were telling us that we weren't going to ever need it again. They were assuming that because our baby died at 5 months, we weren't going to get an opportunity to try again and succeed, so they just wanted it back and didn't want to return our double stroller because they still needed it. We are sensitive, and we are allowed to be right now. But how they handled this situation was just wrong. And its something my husband won't get over anytime soon. We did end up deciding that it was better for us as a couple, and future parents, to just give them the damn stroller, and buy a new one with no negativity attached to it (or those who were not wishing us well).
Anyway, back to Target. We now have no baby stuff, nothing. I felt hopeless-I had nothing to cling too besides memories. But here we were, looking at a pattern we absolutely adore. It took so much self control not to buy all three pieces on the spot...because he and i looked at each other, and acknowledged that we were crazy, but we wanted something tangible to hold on to. We never ordered the crib, we never bought baby clothes. To protect ourselves in case something bad happened (which it did), we didn't buy anything that might remind us of what we lost. But in doing that, we were left with empty arms, and an empty room, and no hope of a bright future. I know that he and I want to buy the baby items now to protect us from the reminder that there might not be a baby in 2 months, but it doesn't mean it won't even happen. In protecting ourselves from hurting, we actually ended up being more hurt because we lost hope. I hope that makes sense, because while it makes sense to me, it may not to anyone else.
So we controlled ourselves, and called our moms to see if we were crazy. We were told we weren't. We then decided that one paycheck a month we are going to go out and buy one item for our next baby. We don't know when that will be, but who knows, maybe when we are done buying all these baby items we'll get the biggest surprise of all-a second chance. And the next time, I don't think he or I will try to distance ourselves from the baby, but instead embrace and enjoy everything moment we will have. Sometimes protection isn't always a good thing because you miss out on all the little moments you won't release/open your heart too.
Day 3: My First Love ( a day later)
Due to my grandmother fracturing her tibia in 3 places and have surgery yesterday to put a plate and pins in to stabilize it, during a winter storm, I was not able to post yesterday.
But this is short and brief....Huey Lewis. I loved "The Power of Love" when I first saw him perform in it Back To The Future. I had to be 5 or 6 or 7. I remember wanting to go see him in a concert. Yup, my first love (well, techinically it should be he-man, but I am only including real people, not cartoons)!
But this is short and brief....Huey Lewis. I loved "The Power of Love" when I first saw him perform in it Back To The Future. I had to be 5 or 6 or 7. I remember wanting to go see him in a concert. Yup, my first love (well, techinically it should be he-man, but I am only including real people, not cartoons)!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Day 2: My Blog Name
It actually is quite simple. The first summer I spent with my two daughters I wasn't working, and Faith Hill came out with her song "Fireflies". That song reflected so much of what was in my heart to teach to my daughters...especially in light of my failing marriage. So during and after the separation/ divorce, that song was always my song with my girls. The numbers, 0306, are their birth years respectively (2003, 2006). I've had that screen name/ email name for almost 5 years.
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