That was fast

The billboard in question has been changed. I wonder if there were others who found it unwelcome in that location, too.

And, just so there's no confusion, I certainly don't have a problem with infant loss awareness; there needs to be more of it. But, discretion is the key in advocacy and the location of that last message just was not appropriate.

Whatever the reason, I'm relieved it's been removed or relocated.

What's wrong with this picture?

I get to see plenty of billboards during my commute to and from work, advertising anything from new home developments to cars, from pest control to restaurants. And, they're hardly inconspicuous, which I guess is the point.

This morning, though, I was more than speechless when I saw a billboard that touted a local maternity center's motto of "Every day is a birth day," while the backside of the billboard read:

Every 9 hours a baby dies in North Carolina.

Who can I thank for that brutally honest public service announcement?

I was sickened, too, since Ryan was born at the maternity center that's advertised on the front of the billboard, and he's also a part of that unfortunate statistic splashed across the back of it. Yay.

Who is the intended target audience with a billboard message and placement such as that? I can't be the only person who noticed this horribly insensitive discrepancy, can I?

Two years, two lines

Today marks two years since I last saw those two beautiful pink lines appear on a home pregnancy test stick. It had been my first round of Clomid and I was almost certain it hadn't been successful, since two previously-taken home pregnancy tests had rendered negative results - even though my period was nowhere to be found. But, the third time must've been the charm.

It feels like a lifetime has passed since I last felt that kind of complete happiness, anticipation, and contentment. And the further I get from that happy time, the more I'm convinced that I'll never feel that kind of joy again.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that I once felt that way at all, considering that the Sherry who now exists is nothing like that girl from two years ago - that girl who assumed that all endings were happy.

Knowing what I now know, I wish that I could turn back time and recapture those beautiful, fleeting 40 weeks with my beloved angel. I miss it so, so much ...

Wardrobe malfunction

The malfunction wasn't comparable to Ms. Jackson's now-infamous public fashion faux pas, but it was shocking enough to make me do a double take nonetheless.

I came face to face with a picture of an adorable, blue-eyed, blonde-haired infant, whose face will grace the cover of a car seat user manual that's printed where I work. I see cute babies all the time, but I don't usually see them and immediately think of Ryan - but I also never see any of them wearing the cute clothes that my Ryan would've been outfitted in.

The precious little tot in the picture was wearing the same plaid shirt that was one of the first items I wanted to put on Ryan. Instead, here was someone else's three-month-old wearing it while Ryan's is still hanging, unused, in his closet.

It's shit like this from which I cannot escape.

I certainly could never expect parents to get clothing clearance from me before dressing their babies. (I'm not completely certifiable, after all.) But, even with that understanding and logic, I still have lots of times where I'm reduced to tears when I see what should've been for Ryan, and when it seems that others are playing out the life I wanted so desperately for Ryan and still want for my husband and myself.

It's just a stupid shirt; I know that. But, in my mind, it's a direct link to my baby. It's as if that anonymous infant was truly wearing Ryan's shirt instead of one that was mass produced for thousands of babies everywhere. And, in a weird way, when I looked at the picture of that mystery infant, looking amazingly similar to my own lost son, I felt more gypped than I have in a long time. It felt like some invisible arm grabbed the back of my head and slammed it into the dirt, giving me an unforgiving reminder of how much it aches to have empty arms.

I really don't need those sad reminders of what I lost. I know better than anyone what's missing from my life.

My second angel

Today should've marked the two-year birthday of the angel I lost in April 2004. I was almost through the first trimester when I began to experience spotting. An ultrasound later that same fateful day in April revealed that my little one's heart had stopped beating.

I'm not sure why, but that second loss always hits me hard when this day rolls around each year. I always wonder how life would be today if that little soul's existence hadn't been cut short, too.

I hope my middle Peanut still knows how much he/she is missed and loved and always will be.

Happy Birthday.