Ryan was here ...

Winter's here again

2010-12-01T08:37:00.004-05:00

Most of the beautiful fall foliage has been blown from the trees. The flowers have stopped blooming. The grass has turned brown and instead of summery dew drops covering its blades in the mornings, it's covered in icy frost. The nights are chillier and the darkness comes quicker each day. All absolute signs that winter is among us once again.

And, with that seasonal shift, my heart has gone into a wintry place again as well. This time of year is really challenging on those of us with heavy hearts. We wear pretty convincing masks of happiness the other months of the year, but with the holidays being about family and such, it's difficult for those masks to hold up against the grief that resurfaces every year at this time when we remember our tiny family members who aren't here but should be.

As much as I love Christmas (I really do, despite my annual bout of the blues), it's hard for my heart not to drift back into sadness while decorating and shopping. It's not constant, mind you, but I'm always aware of its presence while I'm pretending that I'm okay for the masses.

But, I'm not okay. I keep wondering when all of this will become more manageable and not sting so much. Will I forever be muddling my way through the holidays instead of embracing and enjoying them? When will I be at peace with my boy not being here for the holidays - or any holiday? Or will true peace always elude me - the gift which I need most?

I try my best to keep a stiff upper lip around the girls, since they're too young and innocent to understand. They deserve to have joyous, giggly holidays that aren't dampened by their mother's heavy heart. But, it's not always easy to paint a smile on your face when you're falling apart on the inside.

The holiday hoopla is just too much for my tender heart. I sometimes wonder how I'd fare if I skipped it altogether. Just pretend it's another month or time of the year so I don't fall into that holiday vat of grief. But, I can't do that. Selfishly, I would love to be a Grinchette for the entire month of December. But, I just can't because of everyone else.

So, instead, I'll have to try even harder at pretending I've been swept away with all the happiness and joy that the season is supposed to hold. Or, maybe Santa will slip a sliver of peace into my stocking this year ... or at least something I can build from to help me limp through this chilly time of year.

My other "friends"

2010-06-28T22:29:00.004-04:00

I'm back ... kind-of.

Well, I guess I never really left. I've just been silently sitting in my own little corner, wondering how I got here.

It's been almost five years (God, that realization takes my breathe away), and I still don't know how I should feel about all that's happened in that time. I've lived through a heartbreak I never imagined I'd have the strength to survive, and while it's still a daily struggle to push forward, I manage to find joy in the simple things, despite my perpetually heavy heart.

I still miss my boy oh so much. He's never far from my thoughts.

I'm realizing that this grieving thing has me chasing my tail far too often. Just when I think I've conquered a "step" in the process, I'm right back where I started, trying to understand all of it and deal with my feelings.

It's probably magnified, too, because of the timing of my current pregnancy. I find myself reliving so many of those final weeks with Ryan, since he and this little Jellybean were due just days apart. I'm so worried about history repeating itself and losing another piece of my soul. I don't know how to shake off that fear and pretend I'm okay while doing all these last-minute preparations for something that could be yanked away as easily as Ryan was.

Worry, sadness, anxiety, fear. They're my closest friends lately and know me better than anyone. It's funny how you can sometimes mistake your demons for your friends ...

Am I still welcome here?

2010-03-22T21:27:00.004-04:00

That might sound like a strange question, since it's not like Ryan will suddenly be alive one day and my membership in this "club" will be revoked. But, since I've had one Rainbow baby and am hoping to have another in a mere 18 weeks, I almost feel like my membership is a bit of a fraud to those mothers who haven't ever welcomed their Rainbow baby.

It's very confusing for me to reconcile in my mind. Yes, on one hand I'm a card-carrying member because I lost my son. But on the other hand, I was fortunate enough to go on to have a living child ... and maybe even another, if the fates allow. Have I canceled out my membership because of that? Do other moms in mourning resent my presence in the club?

Really, I don't know what to think.

I do feel as though I'm viewed differently though. I can't put my finger on it, but it feels different. In an unwelcome sort of way.

But, I can't beat myself up because I was fortunate enough to be sent two blessings after Ryan. Two healthy blessings. And, those blessings don't erase all the pain I still carry in my aching heart, nor do they negate the loss of that little person who made me a mother in the first place. Still, I feel guilty ... like I'm suddenly an intruder where I was once openly welcome.

This shit really doesn't get easier. Just different.

No, really ...

2009-12-29T15:58:00.004-05:00

I am still around. As I've said in previous entries, I just don't know what to say anymore. It's been more than four years since Ryan died and while some of my feelings have been resolved, others might never be. So, do I continue to chase my tail by posting the same concerns, or do I just sit back and wait for something better to write about?

I chose to sit back for the past six months or so. And I'm not sure why I picked now to break my silence.

I'm newly pregnant and doing some back-tracking and fighting my demons again, which might account for why I picked now to sit and type out my thoughts. I'm not as bad as I was with Megan - at least not so far - but it's still difficult and I can't help but worry for this newest little bean. There's just so much that could happen - that HAS happened - that I can't ever be blissfully pregnant. That phrase seems like an oxymoron in my world. And, I'm envious of those women who really are blissful and pregnant at the same time. I can't even imagine how that feels ...

I made it through another Christmas without my boy, but there was definitely more joy than sadness this year. And while most of my happiness wasn't forced, there was some of it that I put on for Megan's benefit. She didn't deserve anything less than a happy Christmas, so I had to put my heavy heart aside for her - and because Ryan would want me to be happy, no matter what. I just wish it wasn't so trying to be happy.

Yes, I'm still here

2009-07-22T12:55:00.002-04:00

But, I'm a little lost again and have feared harsh scrutiny over my feelings, so I've kept mum instead of coming here to vent.

It's just a little more than two weeks till Ryan's fourth birthday - or, what should've been his fourth birthday - and I still feel so lost and confused. Megan has brought so much needed joy into my life, but I'm still longing for what I don't have.

I've also been doing more self-reflection and trying to figure out why I feel the way I do about certain aspects of my life. I need and deserve peace and resolution and I'm determined to find it. I may have to delve into the murky places in my past and within myself to find those answers, but dammit, I cannot go on like this for the next however-many years.

I guess I'll always be a work in progress.

How COULD they?!

2009-04-21T10:24:00.002-04:00

I've been sitting on some powerful emotions for the last month regarding a situation that I view as inexcusable and reprehensible, and I need to rant and generally be angry about another's actions. I try really hard not to judge others, but in this case, I can't put my very personal feelings aside and overlook what they did.

I "met" a woman about a year ago through one of the online infant loss forums I frequent, and my heart immediately went out to her last month when I learned that her daughter was born too soon and passed after just six days. Her infant son had died just last August and she had experienced several second-trimester losses before that.

As much as my heart aches over losing Ryan, I've never been able to fathom what multiple losses would be like and can't even imagine the deep pain that comes with saying goodbye to more than one baby. So, to think that a person out in the vastness of cyberspace would masquerade as a mom to only heavenly babies makes my stomach turn.

Yes, someone pretended to be a member of the Dead Baby Club. And, that person preyed on the emotions of legitimate mourning moms and moms-to-be on multiple online forums by peddling her fabricated stories of woe and loss. She was pretty convincing for a while, so it's no wonder it took so long to uncover the truth.

As a card-carrying member of DBC, I'd never question another person's tale of loss and would assume their pain and grief was real and heart-felt, just as my own is. And, to question a story of loss seems innately wrong to me, so I gave the benefit of the doubt and thanked my lucky stars that I hadn't been dealt THAT tough hand.

This woman (or so I'm assuming) has seemingly disappeared from these online forums, but not without a widespread trail of confused hearts and angry minds. Why on earth would someone WANT to be a dead baby mama, when those of us who had to say goodbye to our beloved babies would give anything to cuddle and caress our little ones just one minute longer? It's infuriating that someone would pretend to have walked in the same shoes as me and many of my friends - and take advantage of our broken hearts.

We moms in mourning don't have a lot of spare good thoughts and emotion to dole out to just anyone. We're forever nursing our own deep wounds, but we rally ourselves together and dig deep into our souls to offer all we do have to someone we can relate to - someone who tragically loses child after child.

To find out that it was all a joke is such an insult. I shed real tears for this woman and the baby that supposedly died. I said prayers for strength and healing for her, and prayers of thanks for myself that despite losing Ryan, I have Megan in my life. Yes, I was a fool to believe such a far-fetched story, but some wolves wear pretty convincing sheep's clothing.

I hope that person accomplished whatever it was they were trying to do. When I first discovered the real truth, I felt badly for this woman, because I wondered if at one point she had experienced a real loss and never truly recovered emotionally. I can see that as a a possibility, but, frankly, my angered mind doesn't care about the logic behind the misguided actions. She lied and toyed with my emotions and I don't take kindly to that. And, this experience has planted a seed of doubt in my mind that I cannot squash - that others will come down the pike and pretend to have lost a baby only to gain attention and be pitied by others.

Yes, I'm having a difficult time reconciling all of this in my mind and letting it go. It's difficult to do when you've become emotionally invested and can't just sever the powerful lifeline that leads to those feelings. It's not a switch that I can quickly turn off and forget about. I wish it were that easy, though ...

Remembering an angel

2009-03-09T08:02:00.003-04:00

Please take a moment and visit Kristin to let her know you're remembering her angel, Thomas, and wishing him the sweetest of fourth birthdays.

Happy birthday, Thomas Joseph. You're missed so much today - and every day. XO

Erasing the past?

2009-03-06T16:47:00.001-05:00

For quite a while now, I've considered retouching my favorite picture of Ryan - the close-up that highlights his beautiful blue eyes and his tousled blonde locks. That picture, to me, captured Ryan in all his innocence, despite the complex world that enveloped him.

I see beyond all of the contraptions that were thrust upon him almost from the moment he took his first breath. Yes, I see the jungle of surgical tape, tubes and wires, too, but they aren't the only things I see anymore. But, the harsh reality is that all those things were an enormous part of his existence. Without them, we would've had even less time together.

There are times, though, that I wish I had a "normal" baby portrait of him on the wall - one that's free of the complicated web of lifelines that surrounded him during his short life. One where the majority of his precious face isn't covered in surgical tape - or one that's minus the tape, but where he's still alive.

God, the things we would've done differently, had we known that those 54 hours would be all the time we'd ever have. Sometimes, even after all the time that's passed, it's difficult to wrap my head around all of it and believe that it actually happened. That it actually happened to my beloved little Peanut.

Getting back to my original dilemma ... I don't know how I feel about retouching that photo. As much as I would love to have an uncomplicated, innocent picture of him to savor, to take those things away would be like trying to erase part of the past. Obviously, I'll never forget all the machines and monitors that sustained his little life. But, do I need to actually see those reminders every time I look at Ryan's face and relive all that happened?

Would erasing those things make him more of a fantasy rather than real, since the Ryan I knew and loved was tethered to countless machines. Or, does it matter at all. Really, does it?

My favorite "McBealism"

2009-02-23T09:39:00.002-05:00

In the mid-'90s, one of my favorite TV shows was Ally McBeal. I can't put a finger on just one thing I loved about the show because I loved all of it. The sometimes silly and poignant McBealisms. The dancing baby. The wild scenarios playing out in Ally's over-active imagination. Her colleagues. Her cases. All of it.

But, I'll always remember one particular episode, where Ally responds to a colleague questioning the importance of Ally's problems:

“You know what makes my problems bigger then everyone else's? They're mine.”

I immediately connected with Ally's response, both from my own personal problems and at how I view others' strife. I think all of us are somewhat self-centered when it comes to our problems, regardless of how compassionate or sensitive we are to others' needs. And, when it comes down to it, if you don't look out for yourself, who will? So, I certainly understand how easy it is at times to be swept away by your problems, possibly overlooking those around you who are in need of a helping hand or sympathetic ear.

I'm not without fault. I've sometimes felt my problems were THE most important thing in the universe. But, to anyone else who isn't directly impacted by my problems, they don't see the same sense of urgency I see. And, the same may be true when I'm looking at someone else and their problems. If it doesn't directly affect me, I might not feel as passionate as the problem's owner does.

To each person - in their world - their problems may be larger than life. They may be all-consuming. And, those problems may be the only things those people can truly call their own in a world where we actually own far less than we believe we do. And, our problems are something that no one tries to steal from us, because everyone has plenty of their own to draw from and work at fixing.

But, that doesn't mean that another person's problems are trivial or unimportant. Everyone's importance scale is relative to the trials they've faced in their life. To someone who's face very little hardship, a less-than-perfect grade in school could mean the world is about to end. But that same grade to someone who's faced great loss and adversity would be nothing more than a minor bump in the road. The loss of a beloved pet is a great loss to some, while others may view it as "just" an animal that's died. It's all relative to each of us and our personal circumstances.

So, while our problems are important inside our world, they aren't always important to others in their worlds. And, conversely, we on the outside should be sensitive to others and their problems, even if we don't understand why these problems are so big to others.

It's not always for us to understand, just commiserate and support and not judge. And, sometimes that non-judgmental approach helps us to solve our own big problems.

"Let Me Be Myself"

2009-02-13T10:39:00.003-05:00

I heard this this morning on my way to work, while sipping on my chai tea latte. Pretty accurately sums up the ongoing struggles and searches within myself.

I guess I just got lost
Bein' someone else
I tried to kill the pain
Nothin' ever helped
I left myself behind
Somewhere along the way
Hopin' to come back around
To find myself someday

Lately I'm so tired of waiting for you
To say that it's ok, but tell me
Please, would you one time
Just let me be myself
So I can shine with my own light
Let me be myself
Would you let me be myself

I'll never find my heart
Behind someone else
I'll never see the light of day
Living in this cell
It's time to make my way
Into the world I knew
Take back all of these times
That I gave in to you

Lately I'm so tired of waiting for you
To say that it's ok, but tell me
Please, would you one time
Let me be myself
So I can shine with my own light

And let me be myself
For a while, if you don't mind
Let me be myself
So I can shine with my own light
Let me be myself

That's all I've ever wanted from this world
Is to let me be me

Please would you one time
Let me be myself
So I can shine with my own light
Let me be myself
Please would you one time
Let me be myself
So I can shine with my own light
Let me be myself
For a while, if you don't mind
Let me be myself
So I can shine with my own light
Let me be myself
Would you one time ... oooh
Let me be myself
Let me be me ...

Songwriters: Arnold, Brad; Harrell, Todd; Henderson, Chris; Roberts, Matt;

I melt with you

2009-01-30T09:24:00.004-05:00

She actually knows who I am. And, I can't help but assume she loves me, judging by the way her face lights up when she sees me.

I kiss her forehead and wave "bye-bye" every morning, after Mike has secured her in her car seat, and she flashes me that big gummy grin and returns my wave with her own uncoordinated one.

She and I both look forward to when I get home from work so I can feed her. Mike does a great job at it, but she clearly prefers me at mealtime and gets wild with anticipation while I'm preparing her food.

She giggles and smiles at my not-so-perfect renditions of her favorite nursery songs banged out on her toy xylophone. Doesn't matter to her that I'm off key while singing along.

This little person has completely stolen my heart.

Wow ...

Just bein' honest ...

2009-01-26T16:37:00.003-05:00

I've tried to constructively use all the comments I received with my last blog entry - thank you for the feedback and support! - and took my first step at being true to myself, even though I risked upsetting others with my honesty.

We had a memorial service for Ryan the week after he died so our friends and family, most of whom don't live locally, could attend. At that point, only a week had passed, but it seemed like an eternity for both Mike and myself. Back then, we clung desperately to one another for strength. And, in that moment, it was all we had in our newly shattered world; it felt like it was us against the world.

We both held ourselves together relatively well until Ryan's service started. Then, we both crumbled, but Mike more so than me. I'm not sure why, since I'm the hyper-sensitive one of us, but, I did my best to comfort him during his vulnerable moment and I seemed to be his pillar when he needed it most.

But, while I had my head nestled against my weeping husband's shoulder, my ears were pierced by the sounds of my 14-month-old niece's incessant cries. These weren't just whimpers or whines; she was a few tears shy of an all-out meltdown - in the middle of my baby's memorial service.

Now, I understand that babies cry, but I had silently questioned the appropriateness of a baby attending another baby's memorial service even before we left the house that day. That same morning, while getting dressed for Ryan's service, my niece's crying triggered my milk to come in. So, I stood in my bedroom futilely stifling my tears, while my unused milk for Ryan leaked everywhere. Yeah, what a great moment that was, too.

Sitting in the pew at the funeral chapel, I could feel the back of my neck getting hotter the more my niece's cries went unattended. My sister-in-law, mother-in-law, and Mike's uncle all sat there and did nothing. They did absolutely nothing to quell the cries of a baby who drowned out my baby's last moment of public acknowledgment - the last time anyone would gather to celebrate him.

But, when it had first happened, I truly thought I was being selfish and just needed to reconcile my anger and frustration within myself. But, in the weeks following the service, several of my friends and members of my family asked who the crying baby was at Ryan's service. When I'd tell people it was our niece, I'd receive mixed looks and comments, all hinting that our niece's presence wasn't appropriate given the nature of the service and because she drowned out the majority of the pastor's sermon.

That sickening moment has haunted me practically every day since then. And, because it was Mike's sister's child, it wasn't something I could ever casually introduce into conversation. How does one delicately mutter, "Our niece ruined Ryan's funeral!" But, after receiving so many comments which affirmed my feelings on the situation, I felt it was time to finally tell Mike how his family disappointed me and dishonored Ryan.

After Megan had gone to bed on Friday night, I told Mike that I had something to tell him - something that had been weighing very heavily on my mind for a very long time and since it involved his family, I needed to tell him what was bothering me rather than allowing this to fester any longer.

I explained how gut-wrenching our niece's presence was for me in the first place during our early days of grieving, but I understood that his sister had no alternative but to bring our niece for the memorial service. I went on to explain that I certainly didn't blame our niece for crying through the service's entirety, but that I was disappointed that no one in his family made an attempt at consoling her or even removing her from the chapel.

Mike didn't remember the incident at all and I didn't expect that he would, given his emotional state during the service. I don't think he immediately realized how deeply this all affected me until I could no longer contain my emotion and burst into tears.

He received my news surprisingly well, and then wrapped his warm arms around me and told me he was sorry I had anguished over this for so long. I felt badly for unloading a whopper piece of my broken heart into his lap, but I was glad that I had finally broken my silence and let that demon out of its dark closet.

And, I think he knew that I didn't tell him all of that in an attempt to upset him or ridicule his family. I just wanted to be honest with him about something that affected me so deeply. It was a moment when Ryan's star should have shone brightly and instead it was eclipsed.

I don't know that I necessarily feel "better" about coming clean about this. But, at least I'm not silently shouldering the burden of it.

The great pretender

2009-01-19T16:23:00.004-05:00

That's the conclusion I've arrived at.

I've spent the better part of the last three years merely pretending I was okay and "better," but I couldn't be further from that.

There's a tremendous amount of guilt that I shoulder - that I still feel this way after grieving for so long. And, especially since I've finally received the sweetest of blessings in the form of Megan. She's saved me from myself in many ways, but she's not the cure-all, end-all as some people would believe. There's still a giant, empty hole in my heart, filled with infinite sadness.

My sadness ebbs and flows. But, most of the time I can't be who I really am. I can't be that desperately sad mother who still longs for her baby boy. I can't be in a somber mood around the masses and instead put on a half-hearted smile to spare them all the angst in my heart.

I've spent the last few months curled up in my shell, where I know I'm safe - where I can be me. Where I don't have to answer the never-ending, "What's wrong?" or "Are you alright?"

I'm tired of pretending I'm someone that everyone else wants me to be.

The wisdom of Charlie Brown

2008-12-01T10:35:00.001-05:00

I've always loved the timeless "Peanuts" cartoons. I could never pinpoint why I liked the comic strip and its lovable characters. I just found it appealing.

Yesterday, I managed to catch A Boy Named Charlie Brown, and I realized that for me, watching Charlie Brown was like looking in a mirror. And, then it hit me.

I'm Charlie Brown.

Even though I've seen that movie - as well as the other "Peanuts" classics - a slew of times, it was the first time that I actually noticed how much I'm like Charlie. The bad luck, the cynicism, the sarcasm, the feelings of inadequacy.

I get it, Chuck. I really get it.

Remembering a friend

2008-11-26T08:04:00.002-05:00

Today marks a year since my friend, Christy, passed away at too young an age.

I'm thinking of her today and her beautiful family who misses her so much.

Tonight, a candle will burn brightly in her honor, just as her memory burns brightly in my heart and in the hearts of so many others.

Confessions of a shitty blogger

2008-11-24T20:45:00.003-05:00

Yeah, that would be me.

I'm embarrassed, to say the least, that I haven't been blogging with any regularity in the last few months. I try to - I do - but I either have severe writers' block and freeze the instant my fingers rest on the keyboard ... or I just can't bring myself to write about the things bouncing around in my head.

And, I wish I could use the excuse of, "I'm busy with a new baby and my life is nothing but bliss," but that's not really it, either. I wish that were the reason, rather than the actual one: that I'm going through a very rough patch. Again.

I'm sure many people would think that life must be grand for me now that Megan's here, but the contrary is what's true. I finally have the beautiful little girl I've dreamed of and longed for, and I'm not happy. Leave it to me to spoil even the purest of things in life.

I miss Ryan like I never have before. My heart hurts so much, and I really don't believe that time is capable of healing all wounds. Some just cut too deep to ever fully heal, and all it takes is one little scratch for the pain to start all over again.

Will it ever end? Will I ever have peace?

Celebrating our little boy

2008-10-17T22:18:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, we attended the fourth annual butterfly release, which is sponsored by the local hospital where Ryan was treated. After last year's horrible experience of receiving an already-dead butterfly to release, I was initially apprehensive to go this year. But, I didn't want last year's memory to put a damper on our yearly tradition, which is about Ryan and not me, so I put those bad feelings aside and instead celebrated the memory of our sweet little boy.

We, as parents with empty arms, couldn't have asked for a more perfect day to gather and honor our lost babies. There's something soothing about being surrounded by others who understand the sadness that's permanently taken hold of our heavy hearts. As we looked at the other families in attendance, we knew that they, too, had lost a precious baby. Some were heart babies, like Ryan, while others came too soon for their time.

We cried. We prayed. And, then we released our little butterfly and watched as he flitted up into the heavens.

For all the little souls ...

2008-10-15T11:15:00.001-04:00

Cat's got my tongue

2008-10-10T20:42:00.004-04:00

... Or, whatever the expression would be for fingers that can't properly receive the message from the brain in order to type out the words.

Whatever you want to call it, I have it. This inability to get the words from Point A (gray matter) to Point B (fingers).

Well, that's not entirely true. I think contributing to my writer's block is fearing that I'll be judged once again by what I write here. Admittedly, I don't think I've entirely recovered from the verbal beating I suffered two years ago at the hands of an empty soul who felt it their place to judge me. Even though I can sometimes come across as a feisty little thing, I'm actually more of a delicate flower when it comes to matters of the heart and can bruise quite easily.

There's lots of confusion in this deep ocean which is my head. The waters are still murky and the surf is still rough, despite the safe arrival of Megan. Having one wonderful thing happen in your life doesn't cancel out all the bad things that have happened. If only it were that easy ...

I need to write. I need to be able to dig deep down into my soul once again to free myself of the angst that still weighs so heavily on my heart, but the words just don't come out right.

I am still here, floating around aimlessly in the blog world. And, I've been quietly following many of your journeys, so please don't leave me stranded while I'm figuring out how to fix what's broken under my hood.

The "club" grows ...

2008-10-09T10:58:00.002-04:00

This morning I overheard my co-workers talking about a local radio personality who had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of his second daughter.

But, then, my colleagues' conversation took the turn I never expected it to take: the parents had lost their baby girl.

This news rocked me to the core. I don't know these parents personally, but the father is part of an afternoon radio show that I faithfully tune in to every afternoon while making my way home. He and his wife were expecting at the same time as Mike and I were in 2005, and then coincidentally, again this year. I enjoy hearing this DJ's stories of his three-year-old daughter, as it always give me a reference point to dream about what Ryan would've been doing if he had lived. And, along with many other devoted listeners, I was on pins and needles while awaiting the latest update on the baby's arrival. I just wasn't prepared to hear this outcome, even though I personally know it does happen.

When I hear news like this, it's hard not to remember all the raw emotion that I felt when Ryan died. Those first few days afterwards are nightmarish. Denial, fear and panic rush in and out of your mind at record speed, all while trying to make sense out of something that makes no sense. It feels as though you're moving in slow motion, while the world around you whizzes by, oblivious to your loss and confusion. You wonder if you'll collapse from the burden of the now-heavy heart you carry.

They are beginning a journey that no one should ever have to take, and I wish I could do anything to ease their pain.

Please, keep them close in thought and prayer as they make their way down this difficult path.

May God bless you and keep you, angel Grayson.

Beauty

2008-09-27T11:22:00.004-04:00

As I was seeing Mike off to work this morning, I noticed this beautiful web and its proud, albeit hairy, owner perched in a tree in my front yard.

I really don't like spiders at all, but I found this one and its intricate home to be fascinating and amazing ... once I got beyond a major case of the creepy-crawlies.

The morning dew clung to each fiber of the perfectly constructed web. Its occupant glided across the delicate paths she had so fastidiously spun together and now carefully patrolled. Tiny water droplets hung from her many legs that were ready to spring into action if an intruder violated her perimeter.

It was refreshing to witness that kind of beauty.

Safe and Sound

2008-09-18T20:46:00.001-04:00

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Shhhh ...

2008-09-08T16:25:00.000-04:00

It's quiet, I know.

I'll be back soon.

Happy Birthday, Peanut

2008-08-09T06:30:00.000-04:00

Happy birthday, my sweet angel Ryan.

I love you and miss you, always.

- Mommy

It's different this time

2008-08-05T09:14:00.005-04:00

As Ryan's third birthday looms ever closer, I'm realizing how differently I feel this year compared with the two previous years. And, I feel worse instead of better.

I really expected Megan's presence to soften this year's August blow, but instead I'm finding myself grieving for Ryan in a new way.

When Ryan died, I grieved not only for the little life that was lost, but for all the things that Mike and I lost as parents. We were only able to imagine what we'd missed, but didn't really understand or appreciate just how much we'd missed till Megan arrived. Now, a new side of that grief has emerged and the emotion behind it is as raw as what I felt when Ryan first died. I feel like I've lost him all over again, because I have seen and experienced so much with Megan, and all of that is nothing more than dashed hopes and dreams with Ryan. No little giggles and goofy grins; no little songs to share; no milestones to enter into the baby book. Just lots of bittersweet memories and stinging tears.

I'm also feeling and fearing that some people in my life have forgotten him now that his sister is here. I sense it in a lot of things that people say to me - as if her arrival erased him from others' memories or thoughts. I suppose those people might be trying to spare my already-weary heart and head, but it hurts more to think that people want to brush his memory aside as if he didn't matter.

I guess it's really true with this grieving thing, that sometimes you take one step forward and two steps back. But, right now, I feel like I just stepped back into a bottomless pit.

It's that time of year

2008-08-01T10:52:00.000-04:00

It's August.

Need I say more?

Say "Cheeeeese!"

2008-07-31T12:21:00.003-04:00

After seeing this expression, I guess I can rest easy and be assured that I'm doing something right.

She likes me! She really, really likes me!

Again, I'm absolutely amazed by this little girl. She really has helped to fill in the cracks of my broken heart.

Refrigerator clean-out?

2008-07-24T16:24:00.004-04:00

With a little one now occupying most of my free time these days, a lot of chores have fallen by the wayside ...

... Like cleaning out the fridge and ridding it of expired bottles of salad dressing and sticky jars of jelly. It's a no-brainer when it comes to throwing out those things.

But, what do you do about an injection pen loaded with fertility meds that isn't expired? The box that the pen is in doesn't take up much space and fortunately hasn't become a breeding ground for fuzzy mold like other items in there, so what's the harm in letting it sit there?

Seeing it in the fridge filled me with lots of mixed emotions. Two years ago we were in the throes of our fertility treatments with the RE. At the beginning, we were so excited and our hope of bringing home a baby had been renewed. But, then the reality of being a slave to the fertility clinic set in. It's not fun. It's gruelling. It's heart-breaking. Or, at least that's how we felt after three failed cycles. And, all the monitoring and poking and prodding and obsessing is enough to drive a person mad. But, for those patients who are fortunate enough to conceive whilst under the watchful eye of their RE, the view is much rosier I'm sure.

But, if we decide to try for a sibling for Megan, do I really want to subject myself (and Mike) to that insanity once again?

I guess if we had conceived Megan by those means, the decision to keep the injection pen might be easier to make. But, we were so very fortunate to conceive her without any intervention whatsoever. One happy egg met one happy sperm and now we've got our little miracle. Plus, even though it wasn't awful getting shots in my belly, it certainly wasn't a picnic, either. Sometimes you do things you'd never dream you had the power to do, and subjecting myself to shots of fertility meds was that thing. At the time, I viewed it as a small price to pay if it meant we'd finally have a healthy baby at home.

What does it say about me if I keep the pen in the fridge, even though I'm fairly certain we won't use it? If I throw it out, will I feel like I'm closing the door on the possibility that that pen offers? Or, do I just have faith that if it's meant to be, we'll be as blessed as we were with Megan and the old-fashioned method will do the trick?

Makes me wish I hadn't gone looking for the source of the funky odor in the fridge, because now I have more than two-week-old meatloaf leftovers to think about.

Seven weeks

2008-07-17T08:42:00.002-04:00

I can't even believe this much time has passed since Megan joined our family.

Time really does fly when you're having fun.

13 Days into our new life

2008-06-11T13:38:00.003-04:00

I'm constantly busy. I'm sleep deprived. I'm stumbling my way through lots of new things. I feel disorganized. I whisper and tip-toe more. And, I've been peed on.

But, I wouldn't have it any other way. This is what I've been waiting for and working so hard to achieve, in hopes of mending my wounded heart and to finally have the family we've tried so hard to grow. She seems to be the key piece that was missing from my life. Now I completely understand about unconditional love - "the kind of love that makes you cry." (I heard that expression during an episode of "Scott Baio Is 46 and Pregnant" and it became etched in my memory.) I shed lots of happy tears when I look at her angelic little face and can't believe she finally made her way into our life.

I'm so in love with this little person. It's indescribable. I look at her and can't believe that I helped to create her. I can't believe she's the precocious little babe who wedged her butt into my ribs and gave my ovaries some mighty powerful soccer kicks while in utero. It's odd, yet heart-warming, to look at her precious little face and see myself through her expressions and features. And when I look into her blue eyes, I see not only her, but am reminded of her big brother, Ryan, who had the same beautiful eyes. So, even though he's not here, in a way he is, since part of him lives on through Megan.

To sum it up, everything makes more sense now. I never dreamed that I could or would possibly change so much just by bringing home a baby, but I have. I still have a badly fractured heart, but along with that hurt is this wonderful, new feeling that planted itself when Megan safely arrived 13 days ago. It's like a gigantic Band-Aid across my heart.

Yes, I'm completely smitten with Megan. It's all so amazing.

And, to spare you any further mushiness, here are some pictures from Megan's first few days.

Freshly cleaned ... and still quite unhappy.

First family picture.

Proud papa.

Snoozing ... what babies do best.

The answer to our prayers

2008-06-03T15:50:00.001-04:00

I am beyond thrilled to introduce our daughter, Megan Elizabeth.

She was born at 7:50 a.m. on Thursday, May 29, 2008, weighing in at 7 lbs. 8 oz. and measuring 19.75 in. long.

She's just perfect. Perfect.

I'll get to the details and upload more photos soon; I'm just a little busy these days.

To answer Kate's question ...

2008-05-28T14:09:00.003-04:00

My good friend, Jennifer, will post a Gummy update on her blog, as I'll have no computer access till I'm home from the hospital on Sunday.

I'm hoping she'll have nothing but good news to pass along to everyone.

Deep breathing has commenced

2008-05-25T11:36:00.004-04:00

This past week was rough, no doubt. Having to lose our kitty, Wendy, so close to Gummy's arrival rattled both mine and Mike's cages a bit. We had been going about our business so seamlessly, so last week's bump in the road jolted us more than expected.

But, we're doing okay. There's still that absence of Wendy in our little family, and the other furbabies sense that something is off, too. We're doing our best, though, to focus on the good rather than dwell on the bad by keeping ourselves occupied with last-minute Gummy-related projects.

This morning Mike installed the car seat. I double-checked that my hospital bag is truly ready to go, and it is. Yesterday we cleaned our bedroom and bathroom to the point that I almost didn't recognize either room by the time we were done. Other than actually having this little baby, I don't know what else we can do to prepare ourselves.

But, along with all the joyful preparations, the feelings of fear and anxiety have slowly crept back into both our minds. Again, we're trying not to focus on the bad, but we both feel that we need to be aware of it. I mean, it's not like we can pretend we don't know how our last journey down this path ended. And, as much as we hope and pray that this outcome will be the complete opposite, we just don't know for certain that it will - till we walk out of the hospital with our little bundle in tow.

My last OB appointment was Friday and couldn't have been better. My OB is almost as excited as we are, but he completely understands our trepidation and respects why we feel the way we do. He told me once again how much he admires how Mike and I haven't given up our pursuit to have our little family and how our love for one another is quite apparent. Sure, he might've just been saying that to make me feel better, but it was nice to hear nonetheless, since it's the strength from our bond that has made it possible to pursue our dream.

On Friday night we went out for what will hopefully be our last childless date. We went to a local Mexican restaurant and had a wonderful, relaxing dinner, complete with an indulgent "tres leches" dessert. I was barely able to waddle my round body out of the restaurant afterward, but it was oh-so worth every bite.

I'll receive my final instructions by Tuesday, but for now, we're prepared to arrive at the hospital by 5:30 am for our 7:30 C-section. My OB explained the procedure again, in case I had forgotten any of the steps, and I'm still comfortable with the process. As long as Gummy arrives safely, I'll do what I have to do to achieve that desired ending. So, barring any emergency C-sections that bump us from the OR, we're the first on the schedule for the day.

Now, back to my deep breathing ...

Impeccable timing

2008-05-19T19:41:00.007-04:00

Everything is just fine with Gummy, and we're still scheduled to meet her next Thursday. At least that's all good.

But, once again, we're faced with losing one of our beloved pets just before our baby's arrival. This happened a few months before we had Ryan, when my Samoyed, Sasha, became very ill and now it's happening again to one of our cats - one that Mike has had for 16 years.

I realize that our little tabby, Wendy, is "just" an animal by many people's standards and opinions, but she's a part of our little family nonetheless. Her sweetness and constant purring have endeared her so much to us, and losing her just before such a monumentous time in our life is gut-wrenching and seems so horribly unfair.

All of this stirs up so many difficult and powerful emotions and I cannot believe we're having to face this scenario once again. I know it's part of that whole "cycle of life" crap, but it's still a bitter pill to swallow. Just because you know the rationale behind something doesn't mean it's any easier to handle when you're faced with it.

I won't go into specifics with Wendy's demise, but we know this is a decision that needed to be made and we know what needs to be done at this point. We can't selfishly hang on to her to make ourselves feel any better or hope that she'll magically be well again. She deserves that last little bit of dignity, which is all we can do for her at this point. Well, that a lots of love and treats.

So, please say a little prayer for her tomorrow morning - and send some strength to Mike as he says goodbye to his lovable little kitty.

Love you, Wendy Sue.

2nd Annual Mother's Day celebration

2008-05-11T18:33:00.003-04:00

Hooter's was our restaurant of choice again this Mother's Day and, again, it didn't disappoint. So, instead of feeling like a mom with empty arms, I felt more like a regular person just going out for an indulgent lunch, minus the sugary-sweet Mother's Day greetings from unknowing hostesses.

Even though I'm walking around with a generously swollen belly and all seems well to those on the outside, today is a day that is quite bittersweet for me, as I celebrate what once was and what will hopefully be.

As usual, Mike treated me like royalty and bought me a set of nursing pajamas (something I've put off buying for myself) and we ended the celebration with a Butterfinger sundae.

It was a good day for this wounded soul.

Funny how a year changes things

2008-05-07T21:23:00.004-04:00

I realized today that a year ago, actually being pregnant seemed like the furthest thing imaginable or achievable. I was gearing up for my laparoscopy, in what I perceived as a desperate attempt to explain my unexplained infertility. I had begun to look at adoption books, thinking that would be the only way I'd ever have a family.

Funny, how in just one year, my life is completely different.

No, I don't have my family yet, so maybe I shouldn't count my chickens before they hatch, but this is the closest I've been since August 2005. And, even though Gummy isn't here yet, her finding her way into my life has been more powerful than I ever thought possible. She's saved me from myself.

When I read my blog entries from last year, I can see that I'm a different person now and in a completely different place. There are still those huge potholes in my heart where my grief will always live, but there are now more than just glimmers of hope that co-exist alongside my sadness. There is actual hope deep within me that seems boundless, which is something I haven't felt in a very, very long time.

I had always hoped that being pregnant again and working toward a happy ending would bring me the joy I've longed for.

Maybe this is the start of some wonderful things ...

26 Days remaining

2008-05-03T17:40:00.004-04:00

We're down to less than a month before our little miracle arrives - a mere 26 days.

We've been busy working on the nursery and taking care of all the little odds 'n' ends that pop into your mind to do before your life forever changes.

The nursery is almost complete. A friend is putting the finishing touches on the curtains she made and we're awaiting the arrival of puffy-lettered artwork which spells out Gummy's name. It was really weird to watch the room's transformation from a clearly boy's room to a girly-girl room. If I hadn't seen the progression with my own eyes, I wouldn't have thought it possible.

At my latest OB appointment on Thursday, once again everything was great. My OB decided that at 36 weeks (this Wednesday), he'd like to start weekly non-stress tests. He's not suggesting them because he's alarmed about anything, but, rather, he wants to keep our level of confidence up till the 29th, as he knows how anxious both Mike and I have been. I love that man and how he doesn't take any of my concerns or worries for granted.

Last Monday I took a breastfeeding class to better prepare myself for the unknown. The instructor was one of the labor and delivery nurses from the maternity center where I delivered Ryan and where we'll be delivering Gummy. She didn't immediately recognize me, but once I reintroduced myself, she remembered me from the morning I was discharged because I was ready to take on the world just 18 hours after my C-section, when many women aren't ready to get out of bed, much less walk around on their own. It was a little disarming at first to once again see someone from "that time," but once it had time to sink in, I felt encouraged by seeing her again and at the end of the night, she gave us both a big hug and wished us the best.

Mike has totally embraced the idea of having a little girl to adore and pamper. He's found (and bought) all sorts of cute outfits and already, this little one has him wrapped around her little finger. I have a strong feeling that she'll quickly become his #1 girl and I'll be ousted to second place. But, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I did have a moment of panic a few weeks ago, because our digital camera completely crapped out on us. It was the equivalent of a computer's blue screen of death. But, thanks to my husband's resourceful online searching, he found that the camera's manufacturer is aware of this problem and will make the repair at no cost to us. The part about all of this that had me most concerned was the turnaround time in getting the camera back to us. The original estimation for repair was three weeks, putting us at May 17, which, honestly, was a little too close for my comfort. But, the manufacturer, hopefully due to Mike's urgent phone plea, will have the camera back in our hands by Tuesday at the latest. Phew ... crisis averted. Now is not the time for a new camera crash course! So, once the camera is back in my anxious little hands, you can bet there will be plenty of photos to share.

My dad has been on my mind a lot lately. It all started last weekend while watching one of those "top 100 one-hit wonder" music shows and one of my dad's favorite songs - Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum - was among the countdown. It had never been a song I particularly cared for and was before my time, but it was one that my dad grew especially fond of in the last few weeks of his life. So now whenever I hear it, my thoughts immediately go to him and how I wish he were here to share in our joy. He was by far one of our biggest and most supportive cheerleaders and constantly reminded me that we could not and should not let Ryan's death defeat us in our attempts to have a family. "Do not let this defeat you," was a phrase I heard many times over and I would give almost anything to hear him utter it just one more time. No worries, dad. For once I listened to your advice.

Where we are

2008-04-20T20:36:00.003-04:00

Checking in at a little over five weeks to go till Gummy's birthday. Still seems very surreal to think that, much less say it.

Despite how bittersweet it was to disassemble Ryan's nursery and paint over the old colors, it's done. We finally did it. It wasn't pleasant, but once we bucked up and made ourselves do it, we both went into automatic pilot mode and just did what needed to be done.

It took quite a bit of primering to cover the old colors (slate blue and tan), so it was a slow go at first. But, now that the very girly colors of lavender and pale pink are up, it's quite a sense of accomplishment to look in there and truly see how far we've come in the last month. Again, a very surreal feeling, that we're preparing the nursery once again for another of our baby's homecoming.

I stood in the nursery today, feeling surprisingly good about our progress and attitude, and I couldn't help but say aloud, "Please don't let all this work be for naught ... again." We're preparing and expecting to bring Gummy home, but there's still that tiny part of me that's afraid that this is all too good to be true. I don't know that I'll ever shake off that fear until we walk through the front door with her in our arms.

Physically, I'm hanging in there; just the usual end-of-pregnancy aches and pains. Mentally is another story altogether. My sleep has been terribly disrupted and initially the cause was thought to be enlarged mucous membranes in my throat. I was hesitant to believe that was "all" that was amiss, since I've never awoken during the night, gasping to catch my breath, due to a sinus problem. After several unsuccessful attempts at improving the situation (nasal strips, running the vaporizer, sleeping elevated and/or on my side), I consulted the OB's office. My OB was unavailable (he splits his time between two offices), but the nurse suggested trying Benadryl. I thought it was a long shot, but tried it anyway; what did I have to lose? Again, no luck.

At my appointment last Monday, I addressed this again with my OB, stating that it concerned me because this didn't seem normal or sinus related - and I really need to get some restful sleep rather than napping. After asking me several questions to rule out other causes or conditions, he decided that these episodes are most likely due to anxiety; it seems I'm having panic attacks while I sleep. Lovely. I guess I do a pretty good job of acting like I'm doing alright during the day, but my subconscious has other plans for me when it's time for bed. My OB suggested Tylenol PM and it seems to work - or, at least, I'm sleeping for longer stretches than I had been and I'm not waking up trying to catch my breath.

I can't say I'm surprised by this, because I've been a panicky mess for the last week or so. It seems that all the stress and fear from the first trimester has revisited me three-fold and all I do is worry about this little soul I've grown to love and have gotten to know so well over the last eight months. We're so close to the end of this journey and I'm frightened beyond belief that something - anything - is going to take her away. At the end of each day, I thank my lucky stars that she's still with me ... and I heave a gigantic sign of relief each morning at 4, when she starts her daily tumbles and rolls in her safe little home.

That's the latest on us. Unless our little miracle has other plans, we'll be wishing her a happy birthday at 7:30am on May 29.

Pesky hormones

2008-04-08T22:17:00.000-04:00

I'm chalking up my current weepiness to those annoying pregnancy hormones and their uncanny ability to wreak unrelenting havoc on my emotions. I'm utterly defenseless!

I look at my wonderful, loving husband and I cry. I look at my goofy dog and I cry. A blooming purple tulip in my garden made me cry earlier. My big, stretched-out belly had me bawling just a few moments ago. Why, I don't know.

Just another seven weeks remaining of this craziness.

A different kind of mom?

2008-04-06T18:59:00.005-04:00

It really hit me today, while priming the walls in Ryan's old nursery/Gummy's future nursery, that I have spent so much time focusing on getting and staying pregnant that I have given very little thought to what happens if we actually bring a baby home this time.

It's something I rarely thought about while carrying Ryan; I just assumed that at the end of the nine months, a bouncing baby would come home and we'd muddle our way through just as most new parents do. It just never occurred to me that our journey wouldn't end the way it does for most parents.

But this time, I've been so consumed with worry and doubt that I haven't allowed myself to explore what will happen after May 29. It's probably that self-preservation mechanism thing kicking in again, protecting my fragile psyche. But, this is something I need to think about, because May 29 arriving isn't like we're headed off on vacation or something as equally recreational. It'll mark the end of one very long, tumultuous journey and the beginning of a fresh, new life.

So, now I wonder what kind of mom I'll be to our little girl. I've spent so much time as a mother in mourning that I truly have no idea how to be a mom to a living child. Again, something that parents to living children rarely, if ever, think of. It seems to come naturally to them - at least from my naive perspective.

It's a little frightening to think I'll be responsible for this little person's every need. Is this maybe the part of my journey and healing that truly allows me to let go of some of the grief and pain that I've carted around for so long? Is this what I've been working toward for so, so long - finally being able to leave some of my pain behind me while embracing the true beauty the world has to offer?

Crying a river ... or two

2008-03-30T16:13:00.003-04:00

I completely underestimated how unbelievably difficult it would be to tear Ryan's nursery to shreds. I know we're doing all the conversion for a good, promising reason, but that doesn't lessen the sting of tearing away at the plans and dreams we once had for our little boy.

Of Mike and myself, I've been the "strong" one to this point and have been able to go in there to organize and put away Ryan's effects. But, when it came to taking the pictures off the walls and packing up his bedding, Mike proved to be the stronger of the two of us, because I just could not muster that kind of strength to do what needed to be done. My grief became too raw and I was a sobbing mess, once again.

And, I'm riddled with guilt, because by this point in my pregnancy with Ryan, his nursery was completely finished and all his clothing and blankies were washed and ready to be used. But, this time, we're just now going in there to paint and I haven't washed a single item of Gummy's. Everything we've bought still has tags attached and the receipts are tucked safely away in a drawer, just in case. I'm not yet ready to take that leap into the unknown for fear of the unknown once again swallowing me and my dreams.

The end of this pregnancy is becoming more and more trying, as my level of fear is climbing and my confidence is waning. We're so close to finally grabbing that brass ring, but it could be yanked away from us in a heartbeat just as it was before.

How in the world can I finally believe that this could all really happen, with a happy ending intact?

A peek at Gummy Bear

2008-03-22T20:08:00.005-04:00

Today was our "fun" ultrasound appointment and it was every bit as enjoyable as I had hoped it would be.

Our girl - and she is indeed still a girl - is doing just great and hammed it up quite nicely for the camera. We got to see her smile, hiccup, kick herself in the eye, pick her nose, scratch her butt, and fiddle with her girly bits. That's our girl.

Chubby cheeks indeed ...

Rubbing her eye ...

Semi-profile ...

Nap time ...

Bad habits starting early ...

I'm so glad we decided to splurge and do this. I definitely would've regretted not doing it and I feel that much closer to her after today's performance.

Now, to figure out who she looks like most ...

An almost 29-week update

2008-03-17T20:56:00.004-04:00

I had another routine OB appointment this morning, as well as my glucose screening, and I'm happy to report that all is still well. I'll know the results of my glucose test in a few days and hopefully I'll pass with flying colors.

Gummy is actually measuring a little ahead at just over 30 weeks, but it's no cause for concern. Although, it could account for the almost two-pound weight gain I experienced in the two weeks since my last appointment. Oops. But, again, everything else is normal, so I'm not going to fret over little discrepancies like that.

My OB today confirmed that Gummy's birth day will be May 29, at the earliest surgery time he can get.

Wow.

This is all coming into much sharper focus. In just over ten weeks, I'll be meeting my little girl. Our little miracle.

I've been wrestling with some feelings of unrest concerning having a scheduled C-section. There is that dreamy part of me that longs to have a vaginal delivery. But, the practical side of me doesn't see the point in tempting fate and knows that a C-section is a very wise choice - especially since my labor didn't progress last time and attempting a VBAC is risky in itself.

I discussed this with my OB this morning, and he agreed that a C-section is the smartest way to proceed with Gummy's delivery. I have a different set of risks and concerns than many women, and he strongly feels that the best scenario is to have a C-section with its controlled environment. Attempting a VBAC could turn emergent at any time and he just does not want me to have that kind of worry.

I felt better after discussing this with my OB. I guess I needed that validation that this was the most sensible decision considering our history and I wasn't a wuss for conceding to that logic. Getting our baby here in the safest way possible is more important than any longing I may have. After all, her safe arrival is a successful delivery in my book, regardless of the manner in which it happens.

---------------

I went to the fabric store on Saturday with a co-worker of Mike's who will be making some items for the nursery. It was a lot of fun selecting fabrics, but scary too. The trip reaffirmed that we're truly invested in and believe that we'll bring a baby home this time. I can't try to deny it any longer. I've opened up my heart, making myself vulnerable once again. It took a while to happen, but it's wide open and there's no turning back. Please don't let it get crushed again.

---------------

Mike and I have been slowly painting sections in our house - tomorrow will be five years that we've been here and the majority is still painted in builder white. Even though we thought we'd take the low road regarding painting the nursery, we realized that my ever-growing belly isn't getting any smaller and is becoming a bigger obstacle. So, we may end up repainting the nursery sooner rather than later so I'm not leaving tummy prints on the freshly painted walls. (Okay, I admit that I did do this once - just once - over the weekend.)

---------------

This upcoming weekend we have our 3/D ultrasound. We're both very excited about seeing Gummy again and can't wait to see how much she's changed since our last scan. Plus, our big ultrasound wasn't as "fun" as it is for most couples, with so much looming over us regarding her heart, so we're looking forward to a more relaxed appointment. I wonder if she'll have my chubby cheeks - either or both chubby sets.

---------------

And, some gratuitious belly shots:

For comparison, at 25 weeks:

And, at 28 weeks, looking rather weary:

As much as I've been enjoying this ride, I'll be glad to step off.

Like I don't have enough to obsess about

2008-03-11T20:03:00.003-04:00

On Friday night, while in the midst of brushing my not-so-pearly whites, I experienced a whopper of a BH contraction. Never experienced anything like that before with Ryan, so it caught me quite off guard and, honestly, scared me a little bit.

There was nothing about it that would be startling for most women, but the discomfort was so intense that I had to sit down, toothpaste still pooling in my mouth. After approximately 10 seconds, my belly returned to its softer state and I felt "normal" once again. Two more of these contractions followed, but their intensity paled in comparison to the first one. After the last one had passed, I picked up the trusty doppler and listened to little Gummy, who seemed to be oblivious to the whole thing, judging by her constant tumbling and normal heartrate.

I took it easy the rest of the night by propping my feet up on the footrest of the recliner and drinking lots and lots of water.

But, of course, the whole experience got my mind thinking and wondering what I would've done if those hadn't been BH contractions and instead had been the real deal. With all the worries I've had, I never gave a second thought to the possibility of premature labor. I've been so wrapped up in having a heart-healthy baby that I've thought of little else but that. That's the only worry I've had since losing Ryan.

Rather short-sighted, I know, but I think most moms with my experience have that one thing during a subsequent pregnancy that they focus on more than all else, and mine was making a baby with a healthy heart.

Chances are good that I'll carry to term, but that new realization from Friday is still with me. Thankfully, Gummy would have a fighting chance if she decided to be impatient and greet the world sooner rather than later. Let's hope she takes after her mama and isn't ever early for anything.

Always remembered

2008-03-09T11:16:00.002-04:00

Sending thoughts of peace and comfort to Kristin on her angel's third birthday.

Happy Birthday, sweet Thomas.

My "urban legend"

2008-03-02T20:23:00.002-05:00

Mike and I were blissfully talking about our little Gummy the other day, wondering all the things most expectant parents ponder, when it occurred to both of us that all of this still feels like a dream and not necessarily something that could come to fruition.

We assume that Gummy will be okay and get to come home with us, but we only know the bad outcomes to our past pregnancies. We only know the things where most people can say, "I knew so-and-so who lost a baby" or "I knew a couple who had multiple losses." We know those people, too, and unfortunately we are those people.

That's all we know. For us, bringing a baby home is our version of an urban legend, since "we know so-and-so who brought a baby girl home," but have no personal knowledge about what it's like to welcome a baby into our home. At times, it almost seems like a fantasy and I feel silly for believing this all could really happen.

We've gone through these motions before, with the anticipation and dreaming and preparing, which is why we're both feeling so guarded and apprehensive at the moment. And neither of us knows how to shake those feelings to truly believe that there will be a healthy, happy baby at the end of this journey. It's really, really hard to have that faith when all you know personally is the bad that supposedly "happens to other people."

We are those other people. We exist. We're real and our baby died.

So, now I'm hoping we can know what's on the other side of the coin and know that there are truly good pregnancy outcomes - not just ones that we hear about happening to someone else.

Leaping further

2008-02-27T21:20:00.000-05:00

Today marks 26 weeks into my pregnancy. Some days, the time seems to have flown by, while other days, it's dragging at a snail's pace. Just 13 weeks to go till we, hopefully, get to meet our little glimmer of hope.

Otherwise, we're trying to make plans like any other expectant parents - only, we're not quite like most expectant parents. We've made a few purchases for Gummy, but we're still a little reluctant to do too much, just in case it all blows up in our faces again. It may not, but we're treading lightly nonetheless.

Gummy's changing table arrived two weeks ago, but we haven't assembled it yet. We're still working on a way to repaint the nursery, but leave some of the blue and tan paint that we used for Ryan. Not an easy feat, considering the colors we're considering using are purple and pink and don't exactly complement the existing colors.

I can't remember if I've shared nursery pictures before, but here's how Ryan's room looked, ready for his homecoming:

I'm finally feeling movement from within and it's upped my reassurance level even more. She's already developing her own little routine so I know when to expect the daily kick-fest to begin. I love all the activity, but wish she wouldn't choose 4am to literally bounce off her walls. And, I experienced my first Braxton-Hicks contraction today, too. Might not sound like a big deal to most, but considering I never had them with Ryan and even my labor contractions were almost non-existent, I see this as a pretty big thing.

Here's how I looked as of three weeks ago:

My next OB appointment is tomorrow morning, and I should receive a definite C-section date.

Gulp.

Maybe all of this is going to work out after all.

Wedded bliss

2008-02-08T18:46:00.000-05:00

Today marks five years since Mike and I tied the knot. We're in love as much today - if not more - as we were that wonderful day in 2003, despite traveling some rough roads together. We've weathered some pretty bad storms and have come out on the other side, all while tightly holding on to each other's hand.

I feel like the luckiest girl alive.

Still battling those demons

2008-02-02T21:31:00.000-05:00

After my last entry and the many insightful comments I received (thank you!), I thought it best to take some time to evaluate why I blog. There's no question I blog for myself - or at least that's been my goal. And, as it reads in my sidebar, this is my space to work through my feelings, as strange and difficult as they may be. So, here I'll remain.

The past few weeks have been difficult and I've spent a lot of time trying to reconcile my feelings over lots of things, mostly related to Ryan and his little sister. As excited as I am about her arrival, in the same instance I'm incredibly sad about Ryan's absence. At times it feels that the further I progress into this pregnancy, the further I'm taken from Ryan. It's like I'm in the middle of a never-ending game of tug o' war.

It's really difficult to fully embrace this pregnancy, because I feel like I'm turning my back on my little boy if I do. I know he'll always be in my heart and be a huge part of who I've become as a person and as a mother, but I feel quite guilty about being so excited about little Gummy's arrival.

When I try to sort through these feelings, my logic kicks in and I wonder why I'm torturing myself with these thoughts in the first place. But, the guilt is there, nonetheless, and no amount of common sense does me any good in lessening that guilt.

But, in Gummy's defense, she deserves the same anticipation that I felt for Ryan. The loss of his little life shouldn't overshadow the joy Gummy's has brought into our lives. And, I feel confident that Ryan would want that for his little sister, too.

Maybe I feel that I'm choosing one child over another, a sometimes common issue for mothers. Ugh - I just don't know. I only know that I've been missing Ryan in a way I haven't felt in a long time, and my feelings are a jumbled mess.

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A good while back I blogged about clearing out Ryan's room and how Mike was adamant about not getting rid of Ryan's things. At the time, I tried to look at it objectively, pointing out that everything in that room is just "stuff" and not our little boy. We donated a good bit of onesies and other miscellaneous items in the first weeks after we lost Ryan, but we hadn't touched anything since then.

Two weekends ago we decided it was time to clear some things from the dresser drawers - in part to make room for Gummy, to put aside some mementoes of Ryan, and to give away anything we didn't feel attached to.

The task proved to be much bigger than I had anticipated, and I easily went through a box of tissues as we painstakingly went through each piece of clothing, blankie, and toy we had picked out especially for Ryan. No, it wasn't "him," but it was if it was, since we have so few tangible reminders of him. And, it felt so wrong to be going through someone's things who never even got a chance to use them.

Mike and I were feeling very selfish that day and ended up keeping far more than I had expected we would. It turned out not to be just "stuff" after all. Maybe we saved more than we should have, but I figure that later down the road we may decide that we can part with more. But, for now, we have that safety blanket that makes both of us comfortable.

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Things have been going so smoothly that it's almost scary. No, I'm not looking for something to go wrong, but it seems so strange that everything is so right, after all that's gone awry for us. But, this wonderful blessing has helped to renew some of my faith that we'll finally have a happy ending.

Some. I still have a ways to go, but I'm on my way.

What to do, what to do

2008-01-20T10:58:00.000-05:00

Even though I've finally become pregnant again, after 26 gruelling and disappointing cycles of trying and a combined four years of trying, I've never viewed myself as being a different person since overcoming this huge hurdle. I'm still that same mother who mourns the loss of her little boy and aspires to be a mother to a living child. I'm still that same woman who's filled with so much grief that at times I think I'm going to drown within its murky depths. I'm still me - despite being lucky enough to find myself expecting once again.

But, I'm also in a state of limbo, too. Granted, I've overcome many obstacles to get where I am today, but I'm not at the end of my journey yet. I want to assume that all will end happily this time, but I'm not a fortune-teller nor am I clairvoyant. Shit can still happen, no matter how deserving I may be or how many dues I've paid. Tragedy doesn't pick and choose. It just happens.

I haven't been blogging much because I don't want my present state to make others feel badly - when those others I care about are still struggling to get here, too. I don't ever want my presence to make others feel sad, since I was once in their shoes and understand and empathize with how difficult it is to hold on to faith when the rest of the world is seemingly rushing past you.

That being said, I keep wondering if it might be better for me to keep an even lower profile than I had been keeping. Again, I never want anyone to feel any sort of resentment toward me or my situation, but it's also not fair for me to curb my own excitement over an event I have worked so hard to achieve. But, maybe it would be better for me to hang up my blogging hat for the time being as not to offend or upset anyone out there.

I just don't know.

I haven't yet decided what I want to do. It's not easy to step away from something that has provided much-needed strength and hope over the past two years. The blogging community has become a big part of me and my healing, and I don't want to turn my back on it. But, at this particular moment, I'm not sure that it's benefitting me and my happy entries don't seem to be helping others - only bringing them more sadness.

Decisions, decisions.

Sheer, unadulterated joy

2008-01-11T13:02:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's big ultrasound went fabulously.

We were feeling a little worried at first, since the tech was so abrupt with us, but once she returned with Dr. S. and he spent much more time going over our little one, our fears quickly diminished.

Going into this appointment, our biggest fear was that there would be a repeat of a heart defect. With no explanation as to why it happened to Ryan, it wasn't easy for us to shelve that concern and assume that it couldn't happen again.

Since Dr. S. is familiar with the nature of Ryan's defects, he was very careful to check - and double check - those areas in Gummy Bear's heart. We could clearly see two functioning and nearly equal ventricles; only Ryan's right ventricle was formed and functional. Next Dr. S. checked the aortic arch, to ensure there was no blockage and that the blood was flowing freely. And, it was. He was also able to make out the atria, so this little one seemingly has a perfect little heart. The only view he couldn't get - Gummy was being quite lazy and wouldn't move - was that of the ductal arch. But, with having a fetal echo on Tuesday, Dr. S. wasn't too concerned since everything else looked so good.

I'm still a little anxious about Tuesday's appointment, but the amount of reassurance we received yesterday was amazing. Relief doesn't even begin to describe how I feel.

Oh, and it looks like Ryan's getting a little sister. Or, at least that's where we should place our bets.

The storm before the calm

2008-01-09T17:03:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is Gummy Bear's big ultrasound and, hopefully, the day I get to hear the words, "Your baby is perfect healthy" - with those words being truly accurate.

Ryan's ultrasound couldn't have been a better day for us - one that I cherish to this very moment. Mike and I playfully kept guessing if Ryan was a boy or girl, and it only took a moment after the ultrasound tech placed the transducer on my belly to see that he was indeed a little boy. And, what a beautiful little boy he was.

I wish so much that I could once again feel the innocence and joy I felt leading up to Ryan's big reveal, but I just can't. I have yet to feel distinct movement from this little one (we're sporting an anterior placenta this time around), so I'm somewhat disconnected from him or her. Plus, I physically feel so different this time than with Ryan, that if I didn't have the reassurance of the doppler, I'd swear I wasn't even pregnant, because I feel so normal. Just plump.

The holidays did a mighty fine job of preoccupying my mind so I didn't have time to conjure up every imaginable bad scenario out there. But now that the dust has settled and life is back to normal, every possible bad outcome is frighteningly vivid in my head. And I know that these thoughts are illogical, but that doesn't prevent them from popping up. I'm scared. I'm scared for us and scared for our little miracle baby.

I'm also terrified of history repeating itself - to go through a seemingly flawless appointment, only to be faced with a horrible reality in four months. Could life be that cruel? Absolutely. We all know it can be, so I can't pretend that I don't know what could happen, so I have to be prepared in case the other shoe really does drop. Tomorrow's appointment is Part 1 of 2, with Part 2 taking place on Tuesday in the form of a fetal echocardiogram. That's the appointment that will really tell us what we're dealing with, if anything. If we make it through that appointment unscathed ... well, let's get through it first.

All I can do is hope and pray that what I'm experiencing now is the worst of it, and after tomorrow's and Tuesday's appointments have passed, I'll be able to feel a sense of calm and be confident that we have received the most accurate diagnosis possible, and that this little one has been spared Ryan's fate.

Deep breaths commencing.

No thanks are necessary

2008-01-04T08:49:00.000-05:00

A few entries ago, I wrote about the unexpected passing of one of my online acquaintances, Christy, and how she showed me so much caring and generosity after losing Ryan. And, as msfitzita mentioned in her blog, Christy was never afraid of my loss or grief, when so many others in my world headed for the hills socially and emotionally - clearly incapable of dealing with such unexpected and sad news that was then my unfortunate reality.

After receiving the news of Christy's passing, I was filled with so much emotion, which is what compelled me to write about what a wonderful soul she was. I didn't want my sadness over her passing to overshadow all of Christy's wonderful qualities and wanted to pay respect to her in a way that felt right and true. And, I wanted others to know how kind and selfless she was. I know she didn't offer those things to me in order to gain recognition or credit, so it seemed that the entire world should know about someone with such a genuinely big heart.

Last night I received an e-mail from Christy's husband, thanking me (as well as msfitzita) for the sweet words I shared here about his wife. He went on to say that his cousin used some of what I had written and included it in her eulogy for Christy's service. Additionally, her husband said that our blog entries were read to everyone who attended the service, a gathering of nearly 300 people. I think that the number of guests is a true testament to what a wonderful woman Christy was and how many other lives she touched.

I'm very grateful that Christy's husband took the time to thank me for something that seemed only fitting and right for me to do. It was the least I could do, to take a few moments to share how Christy so generously touched my life and honored my little angel, when she could've turned away as so many others did.

For that, no thanks are necessary ... except from me.

Adios, 2007

2007-12-31T18:12:00.000-05:00

It was quite a year, in many respects.

Part of me is ready to close this chapter, but the other part of me isn't quite ready to turn the page for fear of leaving all the good stuff behind. It was hardly a stellar year by any means, but there were enough good things to make it a better year than the last couple have been:

I finally left an awful, unrewarding job to take the leap into self-employment.

Mike finally found doctors who offered good, sound diagnoses for his mental health issues and the last few months have been very kind to him - and us - emotionally.

We took a long-overdue vacation to Canada and were finally able to meet and visit with a dear friend and her Beloved.

After 26 gruelling cycles of trying to conceive, we finally grabbed that brass ring - and held on tightly.

We still have each other and are as much in love as we were at the beginning of this sometimes-difficult journey.

2008 is looking to be the year where a lot of sad chapters finally come to a close and we welcome bright, new beginnings.

Happy New Year.

Holiday blessings

2007-12-27T14:46:00.000-05:00

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Perspective

2007-12-21T15:07:00.000-05:00

I've had lots going on in this noggin o' mine, but I was finding it too difficult to sit down and put things together in a coherent manner.

(I know - I've used that excuse before, and I apologize.)

I've been doing a lot of thinking about how things are now versus how I thought things would be if Ryan had come home. As much as I wanted and expected him to come home like most babies do, I now realize that his homecoming would've been nothing like what I hoped and dreamed it would be. There's no disputing he was a very sick little boy, and even if he had survived, it likely would've been months before he came home from the hospital. Even then, he would've been subjected to numerous heart surgeries, any of which could've prevented his homecoming and taken his life, too. It would've been a very tough life for both him and us.

And then I get to thinking about this beautiful little life that's growing inside me right now. He or she probably wouldn't have come to be without the loss of Ryan. I don't mean that in any sort of calloused way, but our life would've been so consumed with Ryan's treatment that there wouldn't have been room for another child in our life. And, as much as I still long for Ryan and wish he was here, I feel that this little one has the most special of guardian angels looking out for him or her.

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I'm extremely blessed to be in this position again - to form and nurture a new life. There have been several losses recently among my online support network, and it's made me really realize how fortunate I am. I am grateful every day that I wake up and find myself still pregnant, when so many other women are struggling to get where I am.

This pregnancy has brought me more peace and healing than I expected. It's been riddled with worry, too, but it's enabled me to put some of my demons to rest, once and for all. I had always hoped a subsequent pregnancy would do that, but I didn't know if I was setting my sights too high and what I really needed to do was find peace from within. Who knows - maybe I've done a little of both?

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Earlier this week I visited with my labor and delivery nurse - Robyn - that attended me with Ryan. I don't know exactly what has set her apart from so many people that I interacted with back then, but there's just something special about her. Plus, without her recommendation, I wouldn't be with my current OB, who I absolutely adore and respect.

Robyn periodically asks my OB how I'm doing and he told her I'm finally pregnant. (He had my permission, as I know this is a HIPAA violation in the usual sense, and I wouldn't want anyone thinking that my OB took it upon himself to tell her.) So, with the cat being out of the bag, I figured she was due a visit from me.

During our conversation, the thing that struck me odd was how highly my OB regards both me and Mike. To Robyn, he commended us for being so strong and for not giving up the pursuit of our dream. I guess it's really strange how different perceptions can be, because I don't view myself as being strong at all; I've merely done what I had to do with the lot I was handed. My desire to have a living child will always outweigh my fear of losing another one, and the only way to fulfill my dream is to not give up on it, because I would be giving up on myself.

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Three weeks ago I had my first trimester screening and ultrasound to assess my risk for Downs and Trisomy 13/18. All the baby's measurements were good and right on track, and after the combined results from my ultrasound and bloodwork, my risk for all conditions dropped significantly. I'm still at an advanced risk for Downs due to my age - getting old is soooo much fun - but the odds are 99.7% in our favor. Sigh.of.relief.

I'm still having trouble with this odds thing, but I'm working at putting more faith in what I've been told as being accurate. This is a really big thing for me because we were that 1 out of 139871943 cases (I made up the number, but our odds with Ryan were less than .0001% for him to have the combination of defects he had.), so it was 100% bad for us. And, it's an awful feeling when you're singled out and you're that "one."

Most of my friends and family feel that this little one is going to be perfectly healthy and get to come home since we've more than paid our dues. But, as most of you know, life doesn't reason things out like that, so I know in the back of my mind that the other shoe could drop at any time. We don't get a "get out of jail free" card just because Ryan died. It would be nice if there were guarantees like that, but there just aren't. It's life, not a board game, and I need to be prepared.

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On January 10th we'll have our Level II ultrasound to check the little one's anatomy, and hopefully we'll get a peek at "the goods." I'm feeling it's a girl this time around, as are most of my friends and family, but I'd love, for Mike's sake, if this current bundle was a boy. But, obviously, I want a healthy baby more than I want one gender over the other. Then on January 15th, we'll have a fetal echocardiogram to check his/her heart. This particular appointment has me feeling a bit anxious for obvious reasons. But, all I can do is hope for the best possible news at this point, because I can't change anything.

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Here's how our little miracle looked three weeks ago:

The first picture was the one decent profile shot the tech got. S/he still looks a bit alien-like, but definitely more baby-like. In the second picture, the tech turned on the 4D function and our little Gummy Bear looked like a little person - look at that face!

A different shade of grieving

2007-11-27T19:46:00.000-05:00

Many of us moms-in-mourning have become accustomed to reading others' blogs and the losses of their little ones. But, today, I'm grieving in a slightly different way.

Most people don't realize or understand how online acquaintances can develop into life-long friendships. Heck, the internet is how Mike and I were brought together, when the chances of our meeting in person were next to none, with us living 1,200 miles apart.

But, despite those physical distances, the online communities are a wonderful way to bring people closer together in circumstances where it was previously very difficult or next to impossible.

I had the wonderful opportunity to befriend such a person a few years ago, just after losing Ryan. I "met" this woman on one of the pregnancy boards we both frequented, but it was only after the loss of Ryan that I really had a chance to get to know her, as she reached out to comfort me in my darkest hour.

This woman, Christy, made charitable contributions in Ryan's memory for both his first and second birthdays. She and her adorable daughter donated books to their local library in Ryan's name, and, for Ryan's first birthday, she sent me the most lovingly constructed scrapbook that included every minute detail I had ever shared here in my blog and on the pregnancy boards. She also lit a candle on Ryan's birthday; yet another way she honored my little angel, even though she only knew us through the words read on a computer screen.

Christy and her husband just celebrated the birth of their second child, a son, a few weeks ago. So, I never imagined that life couldn't get better for such a sweet, caring person with such a big heart.

Unfortunately, though, I learned that Christy passed away very unexpectedly yesterday. And, again, I sit here and wonder why and how life can be so cruel as to take a young mother away from her two babies and her loving husband. I will never understand how there can be a "master plan" for something as horrible as this. It just doesn't add up.

Christy was a truly wonderful woman and will be missed by many. Please, send prayers of comfort to her family as they try to make sense of this tragedy.

And, thank you, Christy, for all you've done for me and my little Ryan. I'll never forget your kindness and friendship.

Kinda-sorta patiently waiting and musing

2007-11-16T17:44:00.000-05:00

Since my rented doppler arrived last Friday, I've been markedly calmer. There is something absolutely soothing about hearing your growing baby's heartbeat coming from inside you. The amount of reassurance it offers is immeasurable.

Wednesday marked 11 weeks for the little gummy bear, and as insignificant a milestone that may be for some, it was a biggie for me, since other than Ryan, my other pregnancies were finished by 11 weeks - one of them at 5 weeks. So, knowing we made it that far with a very strong heartbeat set my mind at ease ever-so-slightly once again. I know I'm technically not out of woods till the end of the first trimester, but this is a good start for me.

I never realized it would be so insanely difficult to find a therapist that was trained to handle PTSD and was part of my insurance plan. After receiving five referrals, four of which weren't part of my insurance plan and one who was too busy to see me, I decided that looking for someone to talk to was actually causing me more undue stress. Seemed a bit counter-productive to me, so I've stopped looking for now.

In the comments section of my last post, someone mentioned about taking anti-depressants and how there are many that are safe to take during pregnancy. I was on Prozac during my pregnancy with Ryan, because my OB felt it was better that I was less stressed. He was right - I know that - but since nothing definitive was ever attributed to be the cause of Ryan's heart defects, I'm hesitant to take as much as a Tylenol. Seriously. In my mind anything could've caused his heart problems, and I'm just not willing to put anything unnecessary into my body - at least not during the first trimester. After that, I might, if I still feel the same anxiety I felt a few weeks ago.

On Sunday, I'll have less than 200 days to go till meeting this little one. Well, that's if I were to go full term, which isn't happening. So, I guess I'm technically already under the less-than-200-days threshold, since we'll hopefully meet this one around 38 weeks, which is 27 weeks away, which puts me at around 189 days left. (I can rationalize practically anything when I really want to.)

I'm already wearing maternity clothes! I honestly didn't believe the people who said, "Everything happens sooner with subsequent pregnancies." Apparently so, because I have a definite bump going on, and regular pants just don't fit anymore. Too bad it's so hard for short and chubby moms-to-be to find maternity clothes, because for me, shopping has been anything but fun. But, I have enough to get through this pregnancy and that's all that matters. There's that teeny part of me that wanted to save the tags though - you know, just in case things didn't work out.

As much as I'm beginning to embrace this pregnancy, I'm also feeling terrible that Ryan was gypped the way he was. I know I can't change what happened to him, but I still feel awful about it every single day, and my heart aches when I remember that he won't be here to meet his little brother or sister. I hate how unfair the world is.

My next OB appointment is Tuesday, and I'm sure Mike will be a pro at guiding the OB with doppler, pointing out exactly where gummy bear's current residence is. After that, God willing, my ultrascreen appointment is on November 29. I'm sure the anxiety will be up a few notches before that appointment, but I think that's only natural. Right?

Mike made our first purchase for the gummy bear: A cute vintage puppet he won off of eBay. He had several Henry stuffed dogs (made by Animal Fair) when he was young, and all of them are still sitting on Ryan's toy chest, so we added this new addition to the current collection. I really, really hope we get to use the puppet; I can almost hear the excited little giggles a baby would let out at the sight of such a silly toy being controlled by an insanely happy and goofy parent.

Okay, so maybe I was wrong

2007-11-06T15:38:00.000-05:00

There's still a living being inside of me, so obviously yesterday's exhibit of insanity was clearly unfounded and I'm just a little bit crazy.

I really wasn't expecting to receive another ultrasound (I've already had two, with more to come, when many women are lucky to receive one), but I certainly wasn't going to argue when my OB said that she'd squeeze us in.

So, after our brief visit with the OB, we went out for some java since the ultrasound technician wasn't immediately available and we had some time to kill. Plus, I needed some chocolate - clearly for therapeutic purposes.

When we returned 45 minutes later, I swore my heart would pound right out of my chest as I got situated on the table, in that oh-so-comfortable and awkward ass-hanging-off-the-edge position. Mike clenched my hand tightly as the tech guided the ultrasound wand into the unknowns of my nether region, and almost immediately, I saw our little gummy bear's heart beating away.

He/she has grown a lot in the past two weeks and is still measuring right on target at almost 10 weeks. We could see the arm/leg buds and we even got a few wiggles from our wee one. It was truly amazing to get that peek at what's going on inside of me, since I'm none the wiser from the outside.

We met with the OB again after the scan, and she's very concerned about my anxiety and worry, so she wants me to go back into counseling. She also suggested going back on meds, but I poo-poo'd that idea for now. (I'm not opposed to meds; I just don't want anything unnecessary going into my body during the first trimester.) She wants me to feel at peace with this pregnancy and thinks this is the best course of action. I can't argue; it sucks to feel this way all the time.

I also decided it was time to place my order for a doppler rental. We did this with Ryan and it was a life-saver. Plus, we got the model that has a recording function, so we have Ryan's heartbeat saved on our computers as one of our most cherished mementoes.

I'm so glad it ended up being a good day after all, and I hope they continue on this track.

Being eaten alive

2007-11-05T19:35:00.000-05:00

This is supposed to be such a happy time for me, with this new life (hopefully) growing inside me. Instead, I feel like I'm being eaten alive by my grief - that somehow it's grown into this horrible monster than I can't fend off, no matter how hard I try. And, for all the healing I've done in the past two years, it feels like I'm unraveling at a lightning-fast pace ... almost like I've made no progress at all in that time.

I cannot enjoy this pregnancy. I want this little one more than words could ever describe, and yet I'm terrified and worried and anxious every waking second. I feel like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for detonation and for my life as I know it to once again end.

I'm almost ten weeks along, and no amount of promising news can shake my fear that this will all end badly again. Sure, we saw and heard this bean's heartbeat at our last appointment, but to me, all that means is that, fortunately, he/she hasn't died yet. And, with having almost no pregnancy symptoms other than daily headaches and tender breasts, I don't find much comfort in feeling so good since that's not always a good thing, either. I need stronger reassurances than statistics can offer, but those just don't exist. My reality is stronger and more vivid than any of the odds out there. I guess that's where faith comes into play, and I clearly lack that.

I never imagined that another pregnancy would be so horribly difficult and disappointing. I realize that sounds incredibly selfish and ungrateful, but I'm not saying that I don't want this wonderful blessing. I just wish I weren't so jaded by my past so I could truly savor every tiny moment of this little one's presence and his/her tremendous impact on my life. He/she doesn't deserve to be overshadowed by something so horrible and tragic, and yet I don't know how to change that.

I just pray that tomorrow's appointment yields promising news ...

Scare #1

2007-10-29T19:00:00.000-04:00

Today I experienced my first true scare with this pregnancy. I pretty much knew it was inevitable, but I was still hoping to avoid any sort of scare nonetheless. I already have enough to worry about without history wanting to repeat itself in its worst way.

I had been very happy, albeit still nervous, because this pregnancy had been the longest I've ever been pregnant without experiencing any spotting. Emphasis on had, as today my heart skipped a beat when I saw the tiny tinge of color on the toilet paper. There's practically nothing that can suck the wind out of the sails of an anxious, paranoid pregnant woman with previous losses faster than seeing that can.

I called my OB's office and my OB was nice enough to return my call himself. He tried his best to reassure me, pointing out that all my bloodwork thus far has been good and my ultrasound last week was great. And, he further explained that I have a subchorionic hemorrhage (seen at my first ultrasound), so seeing a bit of blood can be completely normal.

Normal for him, maybe; but, terrifying for me.

Other than with Ryan, all of my pregnancies ended with the onset of spotting. And, I don't buy into the reassurance of the color I'm seeing on the toilet paper, as I've seen the "safe" color in the past, only to miscarry anyway.

I just seem to have a knack for being on the side of the bad odds, which is why this recent episode has me scared shitless. I keep poking my boobs, just to make sure they really are still tender. And, I've probably used more toilet paper for "patrolling" than I'd use in a regular day.

But, all I can do is sit and wait for my next appointment on November 20, when I should be just shy of 12 weeks along. That's three long weeks away.

The deep breathing commences. That's all I can do.

All's well

2007-10-23T14:56:00.001-04:00

We have a heartbeat - and the little bean is measuring right on target!

I was very nervous at first, because our ultrasound tech was the same one who somehow overlooked all of Ryan's heart defects during our Level II ultrasound. And, when she was intially so quiet, I just assumed the worst and that we would once again receive bad news.

Then, she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, there's the heartbeat!"

And, the waterworks began.

But, they were all happy, happy tears. Mike had to dab his eyes, too.

I never knew tension weighed so much till it lifted off of me yesterday.

P.S. I tried updating a couple of times, but Blogger wasn't working with me. Nice timing!

Keep breathing

2007-10-22T07:34:00.000-04:00

This afternoon at 2:30, we're having our follow-up ultrasound to hopefully get a peek at the resident in my belly ... and to hopefully see a deal-breaking heartbeat.

I'm 7 weeks 5 days as of today. If we saw a gestational sac and a yolk sac at just shy of 6 weeks, surely there should be lots going on in there today, right?

But, I know from my own unfortunate experiences and from those of others that we may not get the good news we've been hoping and begging and praying and waiting for. And, I'm prepared for that. I just hope that all my preparation for disappointment will be for naught, and there will be a beautiful little flicker on that ultrasound screen.

Now I just have to remind myself to keep breathing.

Never forgotten

2007-10-15T07:38:00.000-04:00

Today's the "official" day to recognize all the babies who are no longer with us. I know we mommies in mourning don't need an official day to remember our little ones, but it's a bit comforting that others outside of our "club" will take a moment to remember and acknowledge all the little souls who can't be with us.

My candles will be burning brightly at 7 p.m. local time; please, do the same.

So ...

2007-10-13T15:40:00.000-04:00

If someone goes to a butterfly release to honor their angel baby and they're given a dead butterfly to release, that's not a good sign, is it?

I didn't think so, either.

No vacancy

2007-10-09T20:42:00.000-04:00

I guess it's time to take the sign out of the window, because it seems that a new tenant is ready to take over Ryan's old home.

My first prenatal appointment was today, and I can't even begin to explain how relieved I am that it's behind me. The build-up to today has been agonizing and I haven't been sleeping well, thanks to overactive pregnancy hormones that are wreaking havoc on my once-peaceful slumber. It's a difficult thing when your safe haven (bedtime) suddenly becomes a battlefield, and all your fears and worries manifest themselves into terrifying nightmares.

But, apparently, vivid dreams are quite usual in pregnancy. Mine just aren't the normal kind of feel-good dreams with fluffy white clouds and beautiful rainbows. But, my life isn't like that, either, so I guess I can't expect my dreams to reflect that - at least not yet.

By today's ultrasound measurements, I'm six weeks along. There wasn't a definitive resident in that gestational sac, but there was definitely a yolk sac and lots of reason for us to trust and believe that our little resident will be moved in and settled within the next two weeks, when I have my follow-up ultrasound.

I'm very grateful that I have such a caring OB now, because I felt so abandoned by my last one after Ryan died. I was always met with pitying looks from the front desk staff the moment I entered the door. Everyone there knew what had happened, and I always hated the feeling of dragging my black cloud of doom with me into their happy baby practice. I was a sad reminder of what can happen, and I threw off their statistics. But my new OB, as well as all the staff, has been so hopeful in helping us grow our family. Sometimes I think Dr. B. had more faith in our success than I had in ourselves.

Today was difficult, too, because I couldn't stop thinking about Ryan. I looked at the picture of his sweet face that sits next to the bed, and I couldn't help but think about all the wonderful and exciting appointments he and I shared. And, I hate that he can't be there to share in them this time, too, as his little brother or sister makes their way into our life. I know he's there in spirit, but I'm missing the physical part of him that I can't have.

The next two weeks are going to go by terribly slow and I know there will be no guarantees at my next appointment, but I'm feeling positive enough that I'm ready to accept and believe that I can finally take down my "vacancy" sign and trust that this tenant is here to stay.

Is it a small world after all?

2007-10-05T08:32:00.000-04:00

After Ryan was born, he was transferred to the "big" hospital, and I joined him the next morning. Since my OB didn't have privileges at the other hospital, my care was transferred to one of the attending doctors - someone I had never met before.

My new doctor and I kept missing one another throughout my hospital stay, as I spent the majority of my time in the NICU with Ryan, and my new doctor, Dr. S., was busy delivering babies. Our first exchanges were through handwritten notes that were left in my room, but Mike and I finally met Dr. S. just after dinner on the evening of August 11, a few hours before we lost Ryan.

I'm not sure how I expected Dr. S to look, but my idea wasn't anything close to the real deal. When he first entered my hospital room, I wondered to myself, "who is this geeky-looking doctor coming into my room?"

Dr. S.'s eyeglasses sat so low on his nose that I feared they'd slip right off his face and fall onto the floor. His stark-white doctor's coat was at least a size too small, and the wrong size was accentuated by the sole button pulling the coat together in the middle of his chest. His hair looked a bit disheveled. And, when he entered my room, it was as if a giant gust of air blew in, as his demeanor and personality were on the high-strung side.

He sat with Mike and me for a few minutes, asking how I was feeling and how Ryan was doing. The conversation lasted all of five minutes, before his pager beeped wildly, letting him know that another little life was ready to enter the world.

After Dr. S. rushed out of the room, Mike and I looked at each other with matching bewildered looks and commented, "That was strange."

And, it was strange. I'm not sure how else to explain that first encounter with Dr. S., because he was so different than all the other doctors and nurses I had met, that "strange" seemed to be the most fitting way to describe him. And, it wasn't a bad kind of strange - just a different kind of strange.

The morning after Ryan passed away, there was a flurry of visitors, some I don't even remember, regrettably. I mostly remember hearing lots of, "I'm sorry for your loss" and condolences of that nature, but not much else. My mind was too wrapped up in trying to accept the horror that had unfolded just the night before to be too concerned with remembering people's names or faces.

About mid-morning Dr. S. came by to check on me and to see how we were handling what had happened to Ryan. He pulled up a chair and said he had a few things to share with us that were important enough that he didn't want to beat around the bush, but he didn't want us thinking he was being insensitive - he only wanted to give us honest advice, both clinical and personal.

Dr. S. also lost a son. Again, my memories are somewhat sketchy on that last morning at the hospital, but I believe his son was killed in a car accident. So, he understood some of what Mike and I were feeling and wanted to offer his personal experience from what had happened when his own son died.

First, he told us that we could not allow what happened to Ryan to interfere with our marriage. He said the last thing Ryan would want would be for us to divorce because of losing him. He continued to explain that he had witnessed other couples experience what we had, and many parents began the blame game, blaming their spouse for what had happened. Both Mike and I assured him that that wouldn't and couldn't happen. And, we both sincerely meant that, as we knew that neither of us was to blame for what had happened.

Second, Dr. S. said that we shouldn't allow what happened to interfere with our dreams of expanding our family, because Ryan would want us to go on and give him brothers or sisters and be happy. Our lives shouldn't end because Ryan's did.

Lastly, he suggested that I begin taking 4mg daily of folic acid (the recommended dosage is a mere 400mcg), since there are many medical papers supporting evidence on the advantage of extra folic acid to help prevent heart defects.

Then Dr. S. asked if it would be alright to say a short prayer, and all three of us prayed together before once again being interrupted by his pager.

He wished us luck as he hurried out of my room, and once again, Mike and I were left wondering what had just happened, because Dr. S.'s visit left us both with a very powerful feeling. We both sat there, speechless, absorbing all of the honesty that Dr. S. had shared with us - honesty that came not just from him being a doctor, but also from being a person who's lived through a horrible experience, too.

Mike and I have reminisced several times about that moment with Dr. S., now more than two years ago, and we've both carried his wise words close to our hearts. During our painful journey with grief, Mike and I have never once blamed each other for what happened, and we both understand that it was a horrible, horrible fluke of nature that cannot be explained. And, even though at times we're fearful of having another baby with heart defects, it has always seemed that giving Ryan at least one sibling was the right path for us to follow. That decision may not seem logical to some, but for us, if our hearts are leading us in this direction, then it must be the right choice even if we can't understand why.

Yesterday afternoon I received a call from my OB's office with information for my ultrascreen appointment, which is performed between 11 weeks and 13.5 weeks of pregnancy. The procedure is similar to a level II ultrasound, which is generally performed around 20 weeks of pregnancy, but my OB (and the genetics counselor) both felt that the screening earlier in pregnancy would help to ease our fears a bit, since they know we need all the reassurances we can get.

The gal on the other end of the phone gave me the pertinent details (date, time, location), and then said, "Oh, and Dr. S. will be performing the ultrascreen."

I was very surprised to hear this, as I thought that Dr. S. worked solely out of the big hospital and figured he didn't handle appointments of this nature. So, I told the girl on the phone that I was very pleased to hear that Dr. S. would be our doctor that day, because we already had an established relationship with him and felt confident in his knowledge and understood our history.

When I told Mike that Dr. S. would be our doctor for the ultrascreen appointment, his face lit up and a huge smile spread across his face as he uttered an excited, "Really?"

So, is this newest development a coincidence, or is it really a small world after all? Either way, I couldn't be happier.

Still here ... and waiting

2007-10-03T17:26:00.000-04:00

So far, so good with this little bean o' mine.

I had my first blood draws last Friday and this past Monday and all looks well, thank goodness. And, as of today, I'm all of five weeks pregnant.

But, all this waiting is killing me. I can be a very patient person, but when it comes to something this important and yet so fragile, I don't want to wait for answers. I want them now.

I have to wait till Tuesday to get a sneak peek at our little one, but I'm happy I get a look so soon, considering so many other women in my position end up waiting much longer.

Once that appointment is under my belt, I'll have a better idea of where to go from here.

That light IS getting brighter

2007-09-29T22:42:00.000-04:00

It seems that my last entry was unintentionally open to interpretation by others.

No, I wasn't referring to "that" when I last wrote ... but with this entry, I am:

After 25 cycles unsuccessful cycles, it seems that we finally grabbed that brass ring on this one. And we did it on our own. No fertility medications. No clinical procedures. No poking and prodding. (Pardon the pun!)

I don't think a word exists to describe how I'm feeling at the moment.

I was honestly reaching a point where I was having serious doubts about being pregnant again, and during the cycle when I least expect it to happen, it happens. Our chances were the same as all the past failed cycles, so I'm not sure what was different this time that magically made it happen.

It's still very early, so I'm hoping this little jellybean sticks and winds up healthy. I think I just signed on for the ride of my life, regardless of the outcome, so I'm hanging on tight.

Very deep breaths and tightly crossed fingers.

What is that?

2007-09-26T15:24:00.000-04:00

Do I see a faint glimmer of hope off in the distance?

I'm not really sure, but I'm hoping it gets brighter.

I didn't want to invest myself so wholly into this cycle, but I have anyway. So, now, I just have to hope that the outcome is the one I've been dreaming of for so, so long.

Deep breath. Fingers crossed.

Last time and next time ...

2007-08-29T21:00:00.000-04:00

August is almost over; I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I'll just assume and hope it's not an oncoming train and instead is the start to a peaceful few months.

This year's August anniversaries have left me feeling vulnerable - especially after experiencing some rather vivid flashbacks to two years ago. Moments that had slipped from my memory suddenly returned and, unfortunately, some of the details that emerged weren't things I ever wanted to think about again. I didn't want reminders of how distraught both Mike and I were during those gruelling 54 hours of Ryan's struggle for life. I didn't want to relive any of the horror, but it found me anyway.

I've thought a lot about those things I wished I had done differently with Ryan. When you're in the middle of your unfolding tragedy, you can't expect to have lucid thoughts - especially when your mind is still unwilling to accept or believe that "this" is happening and that it's happening to you. Back then, it was like I was some wind-up toy that kept going and going. I *had* to keep going; there was no other choice.

I also realized the other day that if I lose another baby, I'll already know how the whole process works. I didn't know anything when Ryan died, because who the hell thinks through something as unimaginable as a baby dying. But, I'd be able to glide through the process the next time. I'd know what things to not waste my precious time on, and what things and moments to cherish. I'd know to call bereavement photographers to capture the fleeting last moments with our child. I wouldn't allow the nurses to keep me from visiting my baby. I'd insist that my angel be dressed in the clothes that were intended for his homecoming, instead of being wrapped in a generic blanket. I wouldn't allow the nursing staff to tape my baby's lock of hair to an index card, never to be stroked again. And, I wouldn't allow myself to feel rushed in saying my final goodbye to my angel and spend more time just gazing at his tiny face and stroking every little wrinkle and dimple.

I hate how rushed everything was back then. Or at least it felt that way because it seemed we never had a moment to sit down and take a deep breath. Every minute was spent in consultations with surgeons and doing our best to make sure that at least one of us was at Ryan's bedside. Even then, I feel I wasn't able to spend enough time with him due to being hounded by my nurse for stats. (I often forgot that I, too, was a patient of the hospital and needed care as well.)

I guess what I'm feeling is perfectly normal, but who the hell knows anymore? It's so confusing and frustrating and I wonder if I'll ever understand any of it.

Bittersweet

2007-08-23T11:20:00.000-04:00

Sharing photos from Ryan's birthday ...

We decided on cupcakes this year instead of doing another cake. Plus, we always playfully joke about Ryan's little bum being like two little cupcakes.

I took this picture in the angel garden on Ryan's birthday last year and loved it so much that I enlarged it and had it framed. It looks even better than I imagined it would.

Ryan's "auntie" Tina sent him this beautiful flower arrangement.

---------------------

All in all, it was a bearable few days for us. Not great, but not terrible, either. Just difficult and bittersweet.

On the morning of Ryan's birthday, we went to the Original Pancake House and had a hardy breakfast filled with lots of carbs. We got some lovely cards from all sorts of people and even a few very thoughtful memorial gifts. And, for dinner, we chose to have grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup as our tribute to Ryan, since that was his favorite meal while in-utero.

The next day was a bit harder for me, since it was the one-year anniversary of my dad's death. My mind was riddled with lots of "what if" scenarios and remembering all the things I wished I had done for my dad before his surgery. At dusk, I stepped out onto our front porch and just gazed up towards the heavens, wondering once again if my loved ones are really up there looking down upon me. Just as my eyes were tearing up while thinking of my dad, the setting sun situated itself among the clouds in such a way that I was suddenly standing in the middle of blinding sunbeam. It was like a little spotlight shone on me alone and, somehow, in that moment I felt a bit better, almost as if my dad was letting me know that things were okay.

Ryan's angel day was a much more somber one for me. I kept having especially painful flashbacks from Ryan's final day, which made it even harder to accept that two years had already passed since my beloved boy rested ever-so-lightly in my arms.

But, it's all over for another year, giving me plenty of time to work up my strength for next year's go-around.

Happy Birthday, Ry

2007-08-09T07:15:00.000-04:00

All my love to you on your second birthday, my beloved little butterfly.

Always and forever,

Mommy

Diversionary tactics

2007-08-07T09:55:00.000-04:00

- Allow oneself to be completely and shamelessly sucked into the reality show "Rock of Love" with Bret Michaels. Nothing boosts self-esteem better than watching a flock of bimbos fawning over an almost "has been" rocker.

- Also allow oneself to be sucked into a "Top Chef" marathon on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

- Cleaning frenzies are a wonderful distraction.

- Buy a variety of fresh-cut flowers at the grocery and make a cheery bouquet.

- Immerse oneself in online games of Scrabble.

- Avoid celebrity gossip outlets, as one will certainly trip over news that another Hollywood starlet is unexpectedly expecting.

- Indulge in a glass of wine to soothe the inner beast. Two glasses dulls the pain in one's heart pretty nicely.

- Pull out an abandoned crochet project and spend many hours refreshing oneself with the stitch, only to throw everything down in a heap, utter a few expletives, and search out another project to keep oneself occupied.

- Make homemade baked ziti at 9 o'clock in the evening. It's very liberating and yummy and comforting, and not at all neurotic.

- Chocolate.

The freak-out has officially begun

2007-08-01T08:45:00.000-04:00

It's August, and my annual meltdown is underway.

I'm not sure why I thought this year would somehow be easier or less painful, but it's not. I honestly believed that once I got through that horrible year of "firsts," I'd be able to heave a huge sigh of relief and things would be brighter and I'd be able to feel normal again.

Not so.

If anything I feel worse than I did last year at this time. I don't have that sense of panic as I did last year, wondering how on earth I'd made it through my baby's first birthday, but instead I'm filled with a more pronounced feeling of sadness and it's weighing quite heavily on my heart.

I'm positive that it's a combination of Ryan's birthday and angel day - and the first anniversary of my dad's death sandwiched right in the middle. But, even though I know what's triggering my feelings, it doesn't make any of this easier to accept or handle. It still fucking hurts in a way that I can't even describe.

And, sometimes, I still can't believe that our beautiful baby never came home. It's still painful to think that we had to write our infant son's obituary instead of his birth announcement. Or, that we had to make arrangements for his memorial service instead of proudly introducing him to friends and family. Or, that his room is still untouched and pristine and looks nothing like a living child's room would look, with toys strewn everywhere and crayon scribbles on the wall.

All we have are the shattered pieces of a beautiful dream, all neatly tucked into a keepsake box that I view as our consolation prize.

This just isn't how it's supposed to be, and right now I'm having a hard time accepting that this IS how things are and I can't do a damn thing to change it or fix it.

Why?

2007-07-27T21:48:00.000-04:00

I'm asking that unanswerable question of "why" again after reading Kristin's blog.

I'm so incredibly sorry and shocked by this news. And, my words are sadly inadequate during a time like this.

I just don't understand any of it. I can't understand how the universe can be so cruel to two people who are as caring and wonderful as Kristin and her Beloved are.

Please, keep them in your prayers ... and their precious twins, too.

Who's still with me?

2007-07-25T10:07:00.000-04:00

Sorry to leave you all hanging with last week's teaser entry. I just didn't want to jump the gun by sharing the thoughts in my head before I talked to Mike to get his take on things.

So ...

We both decided that we're not quite ready to give up on our dream of giving Ryan a biological sibling.

I know, I know. You must be thinking, "Would she make up her mind already?!" I apologize for being wishy-washy, since I'm usually very content in my decisions and choices and rarely renege.

But, choosing to hang on to hope that we'll have another baby is a valid reason to reconsider our decision to adopt. Right?

I kept having feelings of doubt about whether I was ready to move on to adoption. I guess that's a perfectly natural way to feel, but I just haven't been able to wholly embrace the thought of adoption. I can't tell you why I can't accept adoption, but I just can't right now. My heart is telling me that the time isn't right just yet.

This reassessment of our decision came about after Mike and I went out for dinner and were talking about his mental health and what things we could do on our own to aid in his treatment. (Surprisingly enough, we have some very open and honest conversations over dinner ... at restaurants.)

I, point blank, asked him what it would take to make him feel better about everything in our life. Without a moment of hesitation, his reply was, "For you to be pregnant ... but no pressure or anything."

So, his response sparked a new conversation - one where we decided that neither of us is ready to give up trying for another baby. He wasn't ready to jump back into the craziness of fertility treatments, which is completely okay with me because I wasn't ready for that, either. But, he has faith that we can do it on our own; our time just hasn't come yet.

Admittedly, my own faith was renewed a bit last week by the news that a dear friend is expecting twins. She's experienced fertility obstacles similar to my own and lost her sweet baby boy, too. Yet, she became pregnant on an unmedicated and unmonitored cycle! Yes, miracles do happen!

How can an outcome like that not have a positive effect on someone like me? She's living proof that until my doctor says otherwise, I still have a chance, too, of having another baby. I can't turn my back on that possibility yet. I just can't.

My fertility window may be slowly closing, but it's open enough that a miracle can squeeze through when I least expect it.

Here's to the return of hope ... cheers!

It's my prerogative

2007-07-19T09:06:00.000-04:00

We women are known to be fickle.

It's what we do.

I think I may exercise my right to be contrary and may reassess some recent decisions ... after careful consultation with my dear husband, of course.

I'll keep you posted.

And then there was one

2007-07-18T08:47:00.000-04:00

I rarely talk about my mother and I've never written here about her. There's not much to say, really. I've never really known her and we never had a solid mother/daughter relationship. Never.

My mother isn't entirely to blame for the lack of a conventional relationship. As is the case with many people, she's had many issues throughout her life that affected the relationships around her and the choices she made regarding how she wanted to lead her life.

Even with that understanding that my mother has led a troubled life, it hasn't always been easy to accept that the person who brought me into this world wants nothing to do with me. It's hard to not take that personally; everyone wants to be loved, unconditionally, by their parents.

My grandmother did a wonderful job as my adoptive mother. I learned so much from her that I carry with me to this day, more than 20 years after her death. But when she died, I was only 16 years old and still needed parental guidance in the ways of the world. I guess that's why I eventually sought out my dad and tried my best to mend fences with him. And, even though he and I were never able to establish a typical father/daughter relationship, I at least had some kind of connection with him and I felt that something was better than nothing.

Since my dad's passing last August, I've had no one to talk to regarding life and everything that's happened in the past few years. I was able to talk to my dad about nearly anything and he never once judged me or my decisions. He always tried his absolute best to lend an unbiased and sympathetic ear and would only dispense advice when asked. And I know it tore him up inside when Ryan died, because he was helpless in making things better for me. His little girl was hurting and there was nothing he could do to change that.

I've thought of my mother very sporadically over the past few years, but earlier this week, something had me thinking about her more than usual. I'm not sure why, because it's not as though I was looking to reconnect with her or anything like that. I think it was sheer curiosity and nothing more.

I decided to search for her and went about looking for her online. But, I wasn't truly prepared for what I'd find. Through my searching, I found that she, too, is deceased.

This discovery struck me much harder than I had expected. Again, I wasn't looking to track her down, but I wasn't expecting to find that she had passed away, either. Actually, I don't know what I was expecting to uncover with my search; my mind is still a little fuzzy on my motive. But this news suddenly intensified my feelings of loneliness and I became painfully aware that I'm the only one left.

I know I'm a "big girl" now and am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. But, I don't think that voids my inate desire to have someone parent me. Besides, does anyone really get too old for that?

It's a terribly empty and sad feeling, knowing that I'm an adult orphan, with no other family to go to in times of need. I'm left to my own devices, whether I like it or not. There is no one to go to for help in making those important life-altering decisions. There is no one to impart their wisdom. Hell, I don't even have a sibling to bounce ideas off of.

I need someone to adopt me; I'm already potty-trained, if that helps.

Yeah, I went there

2007-07-17T11:59:00.001-04:00

As I was hurriedly running my errands this morning, I ended up making a turn that led me to the most unlikely of places: the maternity center where I delivered Ryan.

I didn't turn that direction by accident, if that's what you're wondering. I'm not exactly sure why I went there, but I did. It was as if the car was on auto-pilot and that is where it was programmed to go.

Admittedly, it was a little strange pulling into that familiar parking lot. Stranger still was that parking was limited and the only available space was the EXACT one Mike and I used on that glorious day back in August of 2005.

My labor and delivery nurse, Robyn, has been on my mind a lot lately - probably because she recently asked my OB about me and he relayed the message to me. When my OB told me of Robyn's inquiry, I thought it was very sweet that she even remembered who I was, considering how many moms, dads, and babies pass through the maternity center doors everyday. And, although my ultimate pregnancy ending wasn't what I had hoped or expected it to be, everything that led up to Ryan's delivery was wonderful - mostly in part because of Robyn and her caring bedside manner.

As I made my way through the parking lot and toward the building's entrance, I kept asking myself if "this" (my visit) was a good idea, or would I be further torturing myself, considering that once I stepped through those doors, I would be up to my eyeballs in everything baby.

I took a deep breath as the doors slid open, stepped through, and made my way to the front desk, where I asked for Robyn. She wasn't immediately available, so I just stood there awkwardly and looked around.

Everything was the same as I remembered it. I could see the hallway and the door at the end of it where I was wheeled for my C-section. I caught a glimpse of the room I stayed in before my transfer to the "big" hospital. And, I saw the NICU where Ryan spent his first few hours of life.

But, despite all that, I was surprisingly calm and didn't shed a single tear or swallow any lumps in my throat.

Once Robyn came to the front desk, we stood and chit-chatted about everything that has happened in the nearly two years since I was a patient there. We talked about Ryan, babies, fertility, grief, my announcement business, and hope. And, while in the midst of talking about such profound and emotional things, new parents passed us by with their new bundle in tow and my heart didn't cry. Not even a whimper.

Robyn and I wrapped up our conversation - she has new lives to welcome to the world, after all - and I walked back out those sliding doors with my head held high. My fortitude in handling that visit really surprised me, because I was terribly afraid I'd turn into a blubbering mess after just a few minutes, once my own painful memories came flooding back. But, I didn't.

I don't know what compelled me to go there today, but I'm awfully glad I did. And, maybe I'm a lot stronger than I realize or give myself credit.

Balancing act

2007-07-13T09:05:00.000-04:00

Everyone has always told me that to really appreciate the good things in your life, there needs to be bad things, too.

Balance.

It's a wonderful theory to think that the good and bad keep everything on an even keel. But, I don't see that being possible when it comes to my own life and experiences. I'm constantly feeling like I'm sitting on one side of a see-saw, stuck on the ground, while the other side of it is empty and, of course, completely up in the air. I keep waiting for someone or something to get on that other side to get me off the ground just the tiniest bit.

I'm not expecting a perfectly level see-saw because I know that's just not realistic. And, I really don't think I'm overlooking the good in my life, which would (or could) make it easier to focus on the bad. I have some wonderful blessings around me that I am thankful for every single day. But, that knowledge and appreciation for the good doesn't erase or diminish all the bad that's come down the pike.

I've tried desperately to get my side of the see-saw off the ground, but sometimes it feels as though someone nailed down that side, making it impossible for my side to ever lift off the ground.

I fear that my grief and sorrow will always heavily outweigh any joy that could ever happen in my life. I'll be stuck sitting on that see-saw, waiting for the smallest bit of good to walk onto the playground of life and sit on the opposite side.

This might seem a bit cynical and inaccurate to others, but it makes perfect sense in my mind, based on my feelings and experiences. There's no question that the bad outweighs the good for me; my life feels like a derailed train.

And, I also don't want or expect the opposite side of my see-saw to be so heavily weighted down that I'm lifted so high that my feet no longer touch the ground. I'm just looking for a little bit of balance, where I can still touch the ground with my toes but feel like I'm playing with more than just myself and my unfortunate circumstances.

Any takers for hopping onto the opposite side? My ass is getting dusty and sore from sitting on the ground for so long ...

Sherry, Sherry, quite contrary ...

2007-07-12T09:28:00.000-04:00

... This is how my garden grows!

(Please don't judge me by the poor sense of humor I displayed in the title. I just couldn't resist the goofy play on words.)

I was looking for a way to do another light-hearted entry and decided I'd entertain everyone with pictures of my garden(s) and everything else that's been happening 'round these parts.

For my birthday (several weeks ago), I decided I'd put together my own birthday bouquet. I plucked yellow glads and an assortment of daylilies from one of my gardens and filled in the gaps with ivy. Never mind that I was itching to use my newly acquired Fiestaware vase I bought whilst on vacation.

Here is what's been keeping me busy ... and sweaty. I set up this rock garden the first year we were here (2003), but since that time, the ground has settled a bit and many rocks along on the border were sinking, and I was having a bit of a soil erosion problem. So, I dug up all the rocks, moved them out of the border, re-shaped the border, poured sand to build up the edges, and replaced the rocks. What's left to do: Add dirt to built-up bed, put a paver under the birdbath, and finish weeding.

This is Gary Gnome (pronounced "ga-nome"), protector of the rock garden. (Any "The Great Space Coaster" fans out there will understand the play on Gary's name.) Gary's domain includes a Crape Myrtle, a butterfly bush, an angel face rose, balloon flowers, Stella D'Oro daylilies, Black-Eyed Susans, and white and purple coneflowers.

Not a great picture, but one of the few I was able to capture of the Mockingbird babies in my honeysuckle bush.

Mama Mockingbird keeping a watchful eye as I admire her babies. She was none too happy about my curiosity, because she and her mate kept squawking at me and dive-bombing me. Lighten up, mom and dad!

Finally, the intended resident of the Bluebird box.

Wait ... that's not a weed.

It's little bunny froo-froo (or is it "foo-foo"?), hiding among my bearded irises and dianthus. (I couldn't resist and just HAD to touch that cute little thing.)

My current pride and joy: My lone Stargazer lily with NINE buds - five of which have opened. The entire downstairs smells so nice. Yes, I'm pretty proud of this effort.

The end.

I hope you enjoyed the picture show! = )

A public service announcement

2007-07-11T09:35:00.001-04:00

(I seem to have lots to say today.)

Mike and I just discovered that some asshole scammer/hacker has been calling our house with a phony recorded message about how to lower our interest rate on our credit card. The message never identifies which credit card company the call is supposedly originating from, but it's definitely a scam. Sorry, but the real credit card companies identify themselves - and address their customers by name, not with a generic recorded message.

This all came to a head this morning when Mike's credit card was declined when he was trying to buy breakfast. We assumed it might just be a hiccup in the network and no big deal. But then Mike remembered the unusual phone call we received yesterday evening, and he decided it would be in our best interest to contact the credit card company to see what's going on.

Turns out the account had been put on hold due to a suspicious charge - made from 1,200 miles away. Fortunately, Mike spoke with a representative in the credit card company's fraud department and relayed all the info we had on the mysterious call, including a website where people just like us have filed complaints against these calls. (Be sure to check out the map on that website; this is an national scam!)

Here's where the calls are originating from (according to my caller ID and the reports filed):

Rivero Rene
305-228-3727

If you receive one of these calls, report it immediately and double check ALL your credit card accounts.

I realize that my post here sounds like one of those annoying spoof e-mails that most people immediately delete from their in-box, but this is the real deal, so take heed!

This is the first we've ever had to worry about credit card fraud or possible identity theft, so now we're a little concerned about something else being amiss. Needless to say, we're both pulling copies of our credit reports and hopefully everything will be kosher. I certainly hope everything is, because we don't need an additional headache in our lives.

I hope no one else has been pegged by this bastard. And I hope the authorities catch him/her/them and nail them to the wall by their balls. (Sorry, but they deserve nothing less as punishment for their deceit.)

The end. You can go about your usual blog reading now.

GTKY ... DYK style

2007-07-11T09:20:00.000-04:00

Something a little more light-hearted than my usual entries ...

DYK, I'm only five feet tall?

DYK, I'm a Southpaw when writing?

DYK, I'm ambidextrous with most things, but can't brush my teeth with my left hand?

DYK, I played the trumpet for six years - and was quite good?

DYK, I first went "commando" at age six, after tearing my underpants on the playground equipment at school recess?

DYK, I hate my troll-like feet?

DYK, I want to learn sign language?

DYK, I dislike most bugs?

DYK, Praying Mantises are pretty cool?

DYK, my favorite flower is the stargazer lily?

DYK, my second favorite is the gladiolus?

DYK, my birthday is the same day as the summer solstice?

DYK, I prefer dark chocolate over milk chocolate?

DYK, a bowl of ice cream on a rotten day is wonderfully therapeutic?

DYK, I love shopping for greeting cards?

DYK, I love smelly-good candles?

DYK, gardening is my favorite activity?

DYK, I once broke my left leg in three places?

DYK, I tend to be a klutz?

DYK, I tipped my school desk during my high school Chemistry final exam?

DYK, I graduated high school 20 years ago?

DYK, I still feel like I'm 16, even though I'm clearly not?

DYK, I can be very competitive while playing board games?

DYK, I'm especially good at '80s trivia games?

DYK, my favorite recording artist is Madonna?

DYK, I've seen her in concert three times?

DYK, I still have my "gummy" bracelets from the mid-80s?

DYK, I was a huge Duranie?

DYK, I used to be able to do a pretty decent impression of Long Duck Dong?

DYK, my best friend has been my best friend for the last 29 years?

DYK, Mike and I met online - quite by accident?

DYK, we lived 1,200 miles apart for the first 18 months of our relationship?

DYK, I left my home state of 29 years to be with him?

DYK, it was the hardest - and best - decision I've ever made?

DYK, the next hardest was leaving Mike's family and his hometown to move to North Carolina, where didn't know a soul?

DYK, I love my iMac?

DYK, it's purple?

DYK, my car is purple, too?

--------------

So, who's next?

Just abiding ...

2007-07-09T15:23:00.000-04:00

On the Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss Blog Directory, msfitzita posted questions for us moms to ask ourselves and to answer them in the way that felt right to us - or to not answer them at all. Maybe I feel more inclined to answer since someone other than myself asked these very personal questions about my angel.

1. What do you want people to know about the child (or children) you have lost?
Ryan was a feisty little boy. He was dealt a horrible combination of severe heart defects, yet he fought and fought ... and fought some more. People were drawn to him - something I've been told by many people. Ryan was the spitting image of Mike. And, sometimes it's weird for me to see some of Mike's facial expressions since they're the same ones that Ryan made. Like father, like son.

2. What names did you give (or plan to give) your children and why?
"Ryan David" loosely translated means "beloved king." We chose David as a middle name because that's Mike's middle name and was my father's first name.

If we have another child, we're not sure if we want to continue using "David" as a middle name or let it go with Ryan's name and his memory. Yes, it would be another way to honor Ryan by giving a younger brother the same middle name. But, I'd hate that Ryan wouldn't have that one thing that's all his own, since he had so few things that were truly his in his short time here.

3. What rituals or ways of memorializing your children seem to best help you cope with their loss?
We don't have any deep-rooted traditions at this point, but Ryan's days are always taken off from work so we can be together as a family.

For his first birthday, I really enjoyed making his cake. It was surprisingly therapeutic, since I felt like a normal mom - doing a thing that normal moms do on their child's birthday.

We have an angel/memorial garden to remember our angels, as well as the angels of our friends. We also planted an upright Japanese Maple (Lionheart) just under Ryan's bedroom window. It's a very unusual tree because of its rust color and delicate foliage, so we felt it was the tree to plant in his memory.

4. What are the kindest and/or most helpful things people have said to you? What are the worst?
I just recently blogged about the worst of the worst, but I rarely mention the opposite moments. I have those moments, too; I guess they're a little more personal to me since they're usually very touching and happen when I'm caught off-guard. Complete strangers have shared incredibly warm words and hugs, where my own family continues to flounder in the support department.

5. Who is your hero? Who helps you make it through the dark days better than anyone else on the planet?
There's no question that it's Mike. He and I are rarely down in the dumps at the same time, and he has said and done the most amazing things to lift my spirits. I'm thankful that he's my son's father.

6. Is there anything you need to say or want to say but haven't been able to? Can you say it now?
No and no.

7. How are you doing? How are you really doing?
At this particular moment, not so good. But, in the bigger picture, I guess I'm hanging in there. I still have tons of miserable moments - some where I curse God and sob inconsolably - and others where I make myself numb just to limp through the day. There are a few glimmers of happiness here and there, but my daily forecast is fairly predictable: Mostly cloudy.

Update and resolution

2007-07-03T10:30:00.001-04:00

Even though I haven't written many entries in my blog lately, it doesn't mean that lots hasn't been going on. I just haven't had the energy to write about it all, which requires thinking about everything again, and that in itself is very taxing.

Life on this end of the computer screen hasn't been very pleasant for the last few months. I know that no one has a perfect life and that everyone has problems, but this entry is about me and my concerns. It's not that I don't empathize with others and their issues; I just want to selfishly address my own at the moment.

Maybe I'm overdue for a baring of the soul - a confession of sorts? Regardless, I want to get some things out that I've been carting around because this load is quite cumbersome.

I became a bit reluctant to share what was happening after last fall's personal attack through my "comments" section. I began this blog as a way to work through my feelings - some of which aren't warm and fuzzy - but I was feeling judged after that incident and that I would always be subjected to intense scrutiny. Maybe that's a crazy assumption, but I assumed it anyway because it made sense in my mind. That being said, you're not being forced to read what I type here, so if you don't have any kind words to share, please don't comment.

-------------------

Looking back over the last four years of my marriage and all that's happened, I feel like my life is headed down a slippery slope and I can't do anything to stop it. Many areas of my life are a complete and utter mess, while other areas are limping along.

Careers: Mike has had some work-related issues over the last year or so. His work situation came to a head last July, when his then-boss refused Mike's request for a long weekend to visit my father before my dad's big surgery. I still don't know what the exact reasoning was for the denial, but it was very upsetting and frustrating, so Mike decided it was best to transfer to a new department and a new boss. He's been in his new position for almost a year, but the transition hasn't been smooth. His new co-workers don't (or didn't) know what happened to us with Ryan, and Mike was subjected to almost constant talk about happy families and living babies. It.never.stopped. And, all the while, he and I are struggling to get pregnant again and work toward a happy ending. Mike's work environment was very bad for a few months, but it seems that some aspects of it are leveling out and he's been better able to overlook the insensitivity and ignorance ... on most days.

As for my career, it pretty much sucks at the moment. My online venture barely has a pulse and my ego is beginning to suffer. Then self-doubt causes me to wonder if I made the best decision by choosing to walk out on my last job. Granted, it was a horribly negative environment that was sucking the life from me, but at least it was paying the bills. So, yeah, self-worth concerns have emerged to make my basket of issues truly diverse.

Emotionally: Both Mike and I have been through the wringer. I was in counseling for almost nine months (before graduating in April) and spent half a year visiting a acupuncturist to help reduce stress and improve my fertility. Prozac is my friend - probably for life. I also still regularly visit my chiropractor, who has always been very supportive and helpful.

Mike has had a full plate, too. First, with depression and anger issues. Then, I feared he was using alcohol as a crutch, so he went back into counseling last July to nip that concern in the bud before it spun out of control. He was taking anti-depressants - and had been through a slew of them - before going back to his new doctor, pleading for help because the AD's weren't working. After Mike took a short questionnaire, his doctor determined that his previous depression diagnosis wasn't accurate and he was actually suffering from bipolar disorder, which is why his meds weren't working. He began a new medication regimen almost a week ago, and already there's improvement. The Mikey I fell in love with is slowly coming back.

Fertility: Last June Mike and I were officially labeled with secondary infertility. Infertility of unknown origin. Normal by test standards, but unable to get pregnant after nearly two years. We did three injectable cycles (one with IUI) last summer, and I've done several Clomid cycles - all with a good response, but none with the desired outcome. The next item to check off our fertility list was a laparoscopy, which revealed scant scar tissue and a blocked right tube. Sure, the tube can probably be opened via a balloon catheter procedure, but it's yet another concern ... and more surgery ... and another obstacle.

The stress and pressure on us to get pregnant is enormous. We've been trying to make a family for nearly four years and we're exhausted, in every sense. It's horrible having sex on demand, per doctor's orders. Each cycle that's a failure is yet another loss for us. It's a loss of hope. One of those tiny glimmers has just fizzled out. Gone. And, we're feeling incredibly left behind. We watch as others are able to grow their families, and all we can do is imagine what it must be like. We feel like we're dreaming the impossible dream. It's painful news to hear when others get pregnant. And, it's not that we're not happy that others are getting pregnant; we're sad that it can't be us. That, for whatever reason, it isn't us sharing happy news after everything that's happened.

Shortly after we returned from our vacation to Canada, Mike gave me the sign I needed to know that he was finished with the "TTC" nonsense. We can't bear any more of it. It's brought so much disappointment and tremendous sadness. We only know the sad parts to being a parent. There's just no point in continuing down a path that's leading nowhere.

So, we're finished with trying to give Ryan a biological sibling.

With that decision, I'm now trying to come to terms with yet another huge letdown and loss in my life. I'm very torn over this decision in so many ways. Part of me feels that I'm letting Ryan down - that I truly haven't given it my all. I feel like a failure as a woman, a wife, and a mom. My body, in one sense or another, killed all three of my babies, and I'm riddled with guilt because of it. And, I feel defeated. I lost ... again.

Both Mike and I know that we want children - that desire has never waned - but now we're faced with our last option: adoption. I'm very grateful that that option is available, since so many children are without parents and need loving homes, but it doesn't change the fact that adoption is our back-up plan. It's a last resort, and I know that. I need to come to grips with that because that's how things are, even if it's not how I wanted.

----------------------

Again, we have lots to think about and lots to deal with. And, I'm already feeling anxious over Ryan's approaching second birthday, and it's still over a month off. Also, the reruns of last year at this time are playing through in my head, leading up to my dad's passing. Both Mike and I are feeling especially frail and vulnerable with all that's happened.

I've kept many people at arm's length the last few months, but I felt it was time to let everyone in on what's been happening. I'll be keeping a low profile over the next few months, but you can always reach me at grapey1969 @ aol . com (no spaces, of course).

Hopefully I can update you soon with some good news. In the meantime, hugs to you all and thank you for your support.

Birds really DO "do it!"

2007-06-25T21:39:00.000-04:00

Our backyard feathered friends must feel safe in our yard, because I just discovered a fifth brood brewing.

Mother Nature has been quite busy, indeed!

It all started with a couple of house sparrows. The male booted the bluebird couple from the bluebird box (no one had moved in, but it's called a "bluebird" box for a reason), and the feisty sparrows went on to have two separate broods. I never got to see their little ones - papa would get very antsy if I ventured too near to his kids - but I was able to hear the baby chirps when I'd be out in the yard.

Then, about a month ago, I was looking over my honeysuckle, trying to decide if it needed to be trimmed back a bit, and a male house finch swooped into the honeysuckle. I was curious, of course, and upon further inspection, I discovered the finch couple had built a nest at the top of the honeysuckle where it winds around our gutter and downspout.

I figured three feathered families was pretty cool; the most we've ever had was a chickadee family last year and the year before, but they didn't return this year. But I was happy that other birds were feeling safe in our yard that this is where they wanted to raise their family.

Then last week I caught a glimpse of a male bluebird ducking into the bluebird house. It was unoccupied, fortunately, and since then I've seen the bluebird couple perched on the trees in our yard. Finally, they figured out that THAT house was put up for them ... two years ago. But who's counting?

This past Saturday Mike and I did quite a bit of planting, so we made many trips back and forth from the garage with the wheelbarrow. The honeysuckle is climbing on a trellis just outside our garage, and I didn't give a second thought to trudging past it since the house finches flew the coop a few weeks ago. But, to my surprise, a mockingbird dove into the middle of the honeysuckle just as I was passing! I got a bit closer and was stunned to see that Miss Mockingbird had built a nest among the fragrant blooms and twisted vines.

That's five families of little ones - and it's only the end of June!

I'm very excited about this (can't you tell?) because I love working in my gardens and doing what I can to attract the birds, so it's really rewarding to see them have their babies here ... especially since it seems that those are the only babies that will ever be around this house.

Are this many bird families a good luck thing? Or is it nature taunting me? Regardless, I like it ... a lot.

P.S. Birds really DO do it, in case you didn't know. The sparrow couple stayed in the bluebird house a few days after their little ones fledged, and as I was watching them one afternoon, I realized that the two of them were involved in some sort of sex act. The cooperative female sat on the perch just outside their house, while her fella jumped from the neighboring butterfly bush to the perch where she was roosting, jumped on her for a few good old-fashioned pokes, then jumped down to the birdbath. He repeated this little ritual no less than ten times - until his lady got tired of his shenanigans and flew off. Horny little things, aren't they?

Back ... and in the saddle again

2007-06-20T15:30:00.000-04:00

We got home a week ago, but it seemed that life was very eager to throw us back into the real world, so upon our arrival we hit the ground running. Originally we were going to split up our drive, but after our visit to Chocolate World and after inhaling insane amounts of chocolate, we thought we could do anything. But we're not as young as we used to be and pulling an all-nighter takes a lot to recover from.

Poor Toby was terribly sick after we got home, but I don't think it was due to his stay at the kennel; the little bugger probably "Hoovered" some food that dropped on the floor. I will admit, though, that cleaning up after him for 24 hours straight on practically NO sleep almost made me feel like a real mom - cleaning up seemingly endless puke puddles all through the night, wondering if it would ever end so I could catch a moment of peace. I couldn't get that horrible smell out of my nose for days and my hands were cracked and dry from washing them so often.

But, I limped through it all - even while sleep-deprived. And, Toby is still alive and kicking, so I must've done something right by him during his sick time. It's kinda funny to me that I take some comfort in successfully nursing my dog back to good health. Those maternal feelings don't go away just because I wasn't able to mother Ryan in all the ways I had dreamed, so it's nice to have someone other than Mike to use them on. Now we just need to work on putting my mothering skills to the real test.

Speaking of which, I popped Clomid again this cycle and "triggered" last Friday. There were three ripe follicles, all ready to go. Go follies! I'll know in 10 days if I'm pregnant ... or, the more likely scenario is that I won't be and will be faced with another decision to make: to keep trying with assistance from my OB (my stint with the RE last summer was a waste of time) or to stop trying with intervention altogether and see what happens. Neither decision is one I want to make, but sometimes we have to do things we don't like, even if it breaks our heart to make that decision.

Back to the vacation re-cap ...

Canada was very, very nice. We spent several days in Niagara Falls and then headed to see Kristin and her Beloved. We had a blast with them and were able to share a special, tender moment with them at a butterfly release to honor our angel boys. It was an emotional time, but it was comforting to be with friends who understand the depths of our sorrow and our hopes and dreams for tomorrow. It was nice and refreshing to not have to explain away my tears and sniffles, since both of them could relate all too well to what I was feeling. And seeing our butterflies flutter away was priceless. Ryan's butterfly sat on my thumb for a few minutes before taking off, and Thomas' butterfly jumped onto Kristin's eyeglass frame before joining his buddies. Beautiful and bittersweet.

I'll have pictures to share, but I need to get them organized first. I hope they won't disappoint - fingers crossed!

How's it goin', eh?

2007-06-02T07:48:00.000-04:00

Great White North, here we come!

This is our first vacation since our wedding in 2003, so this time away is very overdue - especially considering all the crap that's come down the pike since our last vacation. I think that makes us more than entitled to gallivant on our own, with no visits to our usual haunts that invariably stretch us in a million and one directions. This getaway is all about us. Period.

We're off to Niagara Falls (how romantic, eh?) for a couple of days, and then we'll be off to visit a dear friend and her Beloved.

Maybe I'll be able to spot a Mountie in his polished duds. Watch out, Dudley Do-Right!

Take off, eh!

P.S. Yes, I made a rather feeble attempt at Canadian slang. Gotta love the education those Mackenzie brothers provided in the movie "Strange Brew."

"At least ..."

2007-05-31T08:41:00.001-04:00

I'm really beginning to despise sentences that are prefaced with those two words.

I realize that many times people just don't know what to say to me after hearing Ryan's story, but where do some of these remarks come from? I know (or would like to think) that people mean well and don't intend to hurt my feelings, but that knowledge doesn't prevent me from feeling hurt or that these people are dismissing what Mike and I - and most importantly, Ryan - went through during that time.

And, I know that sometimes these remarks are made in attempt to make me feel better, but I have yet to receive one of the "at least" remarks that leaves me feeling cheery and blessed.

"At least you can have another one."

Really? Do these people possess the same magical skills that Miss Cleo claims to have, and they just KNOW that I'll have another baby? Right now, the fertility gods feel differently and seem to revel in toying with my already fragile psyche.

I find remarks like this insulting, too, because it makes it seem like Ryan wasn't good enough or that he can be replaced with another baby. Regardless of how many other children I have, there will ALWAYS be a gaping hole in our family - that place where Ryan should be. He wasn't a family pet or a worn-out coat; he was my son ... a living, breathing person. And, what I felt for him can never be replaced in any way. It would be like telling a widow that she can find herself another husband.

"At least he didn't suffer."

Again, the people who say this have no idea what Ryan went through in his 54 hours of life. He didn't suffer? Well, I'd like to know how else you'd describe someone whose heart is struggling for every beat, trying to function in a way that's next to impossible. I'm sure it's not pleasant to be intubated or be poked and prodded every few minutes. Fighting for every single breath IS suffering, in my opinion, so please don't try to minimize all that my little baby had to endure by making an uneduated remark such as this.

"At least you have your health."

That's reassuring. I certainly am grateful that I'm in good health, but that remark just doesn't make sense to me. One has nothing to do with the other; my health in no way relates to the enormous amount of grief I feel over losing my son.

"At least you weren't attached to him."

Yes, someone actually said this to me.

I guess in their mind, it would hurt less if your baby never came home. Whether Ryan came home or not, it still hurts. Horribly. I helped to bring him life, so how could I not be attached to him? He came from Mike and myself. He made me a mommy and Mike a daddy. We prayed for his life and health over his isolette in the NICU. Despite him being attached to countless machines and monitors, we were able to look beyond all of that and see the absolute beauty and innocence in our adorable blonde boy. We cradled him and whispered to him as he took his final breath. If that's not attachment, then I don't know what is.

-------------------------------

You'd think I'd be accustomed to these comments by now, but I'm not. And, after nearly two years since losing Ryan and hearing remarks of this nature, I really doubt I'll ever be able to grow accustomed to hearing empty reassurances. I realize that the people making these comments are desperately searching for the silver lining in a situation that is utterly unimaginable to them, because they can't bear the horror of hearing that babies do die sometimes.

If you're in doubt about what to say to a mother - or father - in mourning, offer them a sincere "I'm sorry for your loss."

At least that statement can't be misinterpreted and many times that's all a grieving person wants to hear in their time of need.

Recipe for survival

2007-05-14T16:54:00.000-04:00

A Mother's Day Alternative
Ingredients:
1 Hooter's buffalo shrimp platter
1 Hooter's buffalo wings platter with bleu cheese
1 Hooter's curly fries platter
1 glass of Coke Classic to wash it all down

Dessert:
Peanut Butter Cup milkshake made with chocolate ice cream from Steak 'n Shake

I realize that this seems like an unconventional Mother's Day meal, but I was searching for a place that wouldn't be crowded and I guess moms don't usually choose Hooter's. Yay, me!

And, the milkshake helped to band-aid me back together a bit after a rough day.

Happy Mother's Day

2007-05-13T09:20:00.000-04:00

I'm wishing a Happy Mother's Day to all mothers, but especially to those moms whose arms are empty.

Those of us without living children are easy to overlook on days like this, and I want all the moms of invisible children to receive their due recognition.

"How long have you been trying?"

2007-04-19T11:14:00.000-04:00

After a brief exchange yesterday with a stranger in the drugstore, I got to thinking about how long Mike and I - and before that, my ex-husband and I - have been trying to bring home a live, healthy baby.

My ex and I began planning our family in August of 1997, almost nine years into our marriage. We got lucky on our first cycle of "not trying, not preventing," much to our surprise, but unfortunately that pregnancy didn't last and our marriage crumbled shortly after that.

During my time of being single, which was fortunately short-lived, I knew I wasn't in the right place to bring a child into the world, but it was never far from my mind. I held out hope that I'd meet the real Mr. Right (which I did) and we'd be able to fulfill our dream of having a family.

I realize that a couple need not be married to start a family, but my upbringing was such that I felt very strongly about being married before becoming pregnant. Plus, I wanted to be absolutely certain that my relationship with Mike could weather any storm and that we'd bring a child into the world for the right reasons and into the most loving environment possible.

Mike and I had a longer engagement than most couples (three years), but we learned a lot about each other and ourselves during that time. The journey wasn't always pleasant and at one point we almost went our separate ways. But, our love for each other proved to be the driving force in our relationship and we decided we were ready to make the ultimate commitment of marriage.

Like most newlyweds, we began to toss around the idea of having a baby. It was a scary prospect, but we had faith that we could make it happen and would be the best parents we could possibly be.

That was in August of 2003, almost four years ago.

So, that brings me back to my conversation in the drugstore, where the stranger asked, "How long have you been trying to get pregnant?"

I never know quite how to answer that question. This time around, we're on cycle 21 and still counting. Before that, it was seven cycles after my miscarriage that we got pregnant with Ryan - but I was pregnant for nearly 12 weeks and on hold for two months after my miscarriage (even though I didn't faithfully heed my OB's advice to wait). Before that, it was seven cycles of actual trying. But, really, we've been trying since August of 2003, even though many of those months were spent either pregnant or recovering from a recent pregnancy. How do I count that time? And, with Ryan, I technically had a full-term baby, so is it fair for me to count those 40 weeks as "trying" time?

The stranger's question was straight-forward, but I didn't have an answer that was as uncomplicated. My response to her ended up being pretty generic: "A very long time." What else could I say? She didn't need me over-explaining our unusual situation, nor did I want to scare her off with the reality that trying to make a baby can take a long time for some couples.

After I got home from the drugstore, I decided I'd do a more precise calculation of how long we've been trying:

August 2003-January 2004: 7 cycles
February 2004-April 2004: pregnant
April 2004-June 2004: on hold, 2 cycles
June 2004-October 2004: 5 cycles
November 2004-August 2005: pregnant
August 2005-September 2005: post-partum recovery, 1 cycle
September 2005-present: 21 cycles

So, by my estimation, we've been trying for 33 cycles, we've been on hold for 3 cycles, and we've been pregnant approximately 51 weeks (whatever that equates to in terms of monthly cycles).

Yes, it has been a very long time. And now I wonder if there truly is an end in sight, or if I'll only ever be tabulating instead of celebrating.

My foray into self-employment

2007-04-13T14:30:00.000-04:00

Here's what I've been up to:

I am now my own boss. Scary thought!

But, this is what I've wanted to do for a very long time, but didn't have the means or courage to do. Maybe having a heartless boss for three years was the motivation I needed to make that dream a reality.

I also chose today to "launch" my business because it's the third anniversary of losing Peanut #2, and I wanted this day to be one filled with more than just sadness, as the last two anniversaries have been. I don't want to always mark off the bad anniversaries and overlook the good ones.

As I was pulling the pieces together for this project, I seemed to be stuck on a suitable business name. I was trying to use my beloved Ryan as my inspiration in choosing a name, but I was coming up empty-handed every time I'd sit down for a brain-storming session. Then, quite literally, one night I dreamt about him and the word "heartstrings" was uttered by a faceless person in my dream. When I awoke from my dream, I knew that that was THE name I had to use, for more than one reason. And, it seemed the most fitting way to honor my Ryan's little life - and the lives of my other Peanuts who never made it here - and to keep his legacy going.

It feels good to share good news. I haven't been able to do this in a long time.

Vindication

2007-04-11T09:30:00.000-04:00

Just before I walked out of my job last month, I had a verbal exchange with one of my co-workers who was complaining about being awakened by his newborn at 3 in the morning.

The conversation didn't start out as a baby discussion; in fact, it started out as a compliment to me and how "together" I always looked when I marched into work each morning. So, he jokingly said that I must get up hours before work in order to "pretty myself up" for the day. I explained that I hopped out of bed a mere hour and half before work's starting time and didn't put all that much thought or energy into getting myself ready for the day, which was true.

He rolled his eyes and then said, "I wish I could sleep that much, but I'm up at 3 every fucking morning." Then he laughed.

I'm not sure why I felt the need to comment further, but I did. So, I replied, "You know, before you complain about having to be up at 3 in the morning, you might want to consider your audience, because some people would kill to be awakened in the middle of the night for the reason you're griping about."

He didn't say a word, but the look on his face spoke volumes.

With that, I turned and marched back to my work area, feeling somewhat better that I finally called someone out on an insensitive remark made about children in my presence.

I've grown weary of putting up a tough exterior when I'm bombarded by senseless comments like that. I realize, that had Ryan lived, Mike and I would've played up to the doting parent role as much as any new parent. But, I know we would've been humble enough and respectful enough not to go overboard, since you never know what horrors someone within earshot has undergone. He and I had already experienced our own losses and understood how emotionally debilitating it is to have the good news of others constantly rubbed in your face.

Even while pregnant with Ryan, I sometimes tried to hide my swollen belly because I didn't want to make anyone feel badly that I was happily pregnant, when so many other couples struggle to bring a child home. And now that I am one-half of a struggling, childless couple, it hurts that much more when people make tactless remarks such as my co-worker's. It would be like a newly married woman going on and on and ON about her fairytale wedding while within earshot of a newly widowed woman. It cuts you to the core.

I'm certainly not suggesting that people should harness their jubilation over the joys in their life, but there's no need to go overboard, and a little bit of tact can go a long way in saving a hurting soul's feelings.

I know that most people don't set out to harm others through hurtful talk or insensitive actions, but that doesn't prevent it from happening anyway. I just wish people would give a little more thought to what words spill from their mouths before it's too late. Once you've said it, you can't take it back and no apology is sincere enough to heal the invisible wound that's been reopened by inconsiderate words.

P.S. Even though the initial conversation with my co-worker had been side-tracked by my abrupt reply, I did thank him for his kind compliment on my appearance and demeanor at the start of each work day. I was flattered that someone noticed and thought enough of me to share their thoughts.

I've been tagged!

2007-04-08T13:25:00.000-04:00

My response time these days is truly lacking, and I apologize for that. Kristin "tagged" me nearly three weeks ago, asking me to choose a photograph that represents myself in my role as a mother.

But since reading her post, I've been stumped over what photo to choose. I managed to narrow my choices down to two, which I feel, in their own right, represent me as a mom in a happier time.

This picture was taken in Ryan's nursery in June of 2005, just two months before his arrival. My mother-in-law and her husband were visiting from out of town and volunteered to take a picture of the proud parents-to-be in their son's room. When I look at this photograph, I see so much promise and happiness in both our faces, and I can still feel Mike's loving embrace enveloping me, with his hands resting gently on my swollen belly. In that moment, I never felt more surrounded by love.

This picture was taken about 15 minutes after Ryan entered the world. It was after the apparent crisis had been averted during my labor, but was before our world came crashing down with the word of Ryan's bleak diagnosis and prognosis. Everything was still right with the world and I was in complete awe at the sight of this little person that I had helped to create. It was before his little body was whisked away and was tethered to a dozen machines. It was when I could see how proud Mike was to meet his beautiful son - the spitting image of himself. And, it was when my heart was full of so much love I thought it might burst.

As much as I adore both of these pictures, it's sometimes difficult for me to look at them, since I know that our story doesn't continue as we had dreamed and hoped and planned, and as most people would imagine it would have. I look at these pictures and realize that our innocence and our baby's life were snatched away in the blink of an eye, with no explanation to help ease our pain or lighten the burden of grief that we will always carry.

These pictures will always hold a special place in my heart and my memory, since it was in those moments, frozen in time, that I felt my life and my role as a mother had finally been fulfilled and I was complete.

One is the loneliest number

2007-04-07T23:51:00.000-04:00

It's late - later than I can usually manage to stay awake ordinarily - but I have all these random thoughts dancing through my head.

I keep thinking about our little boy. It's nothing and it's everything; I can't put my finger on just one thing. Maybe I reopened some wounds this evening while visiting a good friend. Conversation, at one point or the other, turned toward Ryan, and as happy as I am to talk about him, that talking stirs up a lot of powerful emotions. And, now that I'm home and it's late and the house is quiet, I've realized that I'm not as well equipped to deal with such potent feelings as I had thought I was.

I'm sure the two glasses of wine didn't help matters, either.

Regardless, I'm feeling very empty and alone and not at all looking forward to yet another childless holiday. My period is just around the corner - another stark reminder of how far I am from where I want to be. I want nothing more than to hold my own child in my arms, but it seems that that dream is impossibly out of reach.

I guess a lot of this is also about being lonely. I have Mike, yes, but no other family. Everyone who came before and after me is gone, and it's just me now. It's a weird feeling to know with almost complete certainty that I am the last of my family and once I'm gone, it's over. There is no legacy to be carried on. There won't be anyone to know or remember my precious little boy and all the ways he struggled to live for a mere 54 hours. There will be no one to pass along family stories or photo albums or cherished recipes.

Maybe I can chalk up some of this emotion to the fact that, besides tonight's alcohol consumption and my impending period, I'm recovering from a horrible bout of seasonal allergies. And, when I say "allergies," I'm not talking about just sneezing and itchy eyes. I've been ill the majority of the week with a fever, laryngitis, and a terrible cough that still tests my bladder control - all the while worrying and wondering if I'd be stricken with something more serious. Not a fun week.

See? I'm a heaping mess of nothing and everything tonight.

I think I'll do a shot of Nyquil, slip into my jammies and into my cozy bed, and hope I can sleep myself out of this unsettling state I'm in.

I took my job and shoved it

2007-03-19T07:40:00.000-04:00

I ain't working there no more.

On Friday, I decided that three years was enough of being treated like a whipping boy, so I walked out on my job at the end of the workday.

The unfortunate thing about it is that my boss wasn't in the office Friday afternoon, so my news was shared with his wife, who was completely blind-sided by my words. I did feel a pang of guilt, as the boss' wife has always been very sweet to me (both personally and professionally) and was in no way responsible for my discontent over my job. And, although I did what some may view as a career no-no, I felt I had no choice and had to put myself and my health first, since no one else was going to do that for me.

I've written about my job in the past, but I had tried to curb my job-bashing in recent months in hopes that if I didn't dwell on only the negative my job might do an about-face and actually improve. No such luck.

That was clearly wishful thinking on my part and nothing more, since my boss' behavior had grown worse and even more intolerable over the last two years. The list of his character flaws is sad and long, and rather than picking them apart one by one, let's just suffice to say that my departure was due to irreconcilable differences.

I do feel the need, though, to clarify that my leaving abruptly is completely out of character for me, as my career is one area in my life where my strong ethics have never wavered. But sometimes we need to compromise our belief system in order to do the ultimate right thing; in this case, the right thing was putting myself, my dignity, my family, and my health first. My boss was doing none of those things for me (and never, ever would have) so I felt it was time for me to take control and get out from under that dark cloud.

A lot of bad things happened while I was at this job, and it always amazed me how unsupportive my boss and my immediate co-worker were regarding my unfortunate circumstances. My miscarriage in 2004 was an inconvenience to them both, so one can only imagine how Ryan's death and my absence immediately following was received. When I shared the news of my dad's unexpected passing last summer, the response was less than sympathetic, while their inconvenience at another one of my absences was made abundantly clear. Considering I spend nearly one-third of my life at my job, I think it's most important that I enjoy - and not merely endure - that precious time.

So, as I write this entry, I'm actually able to enjoy my morning coffee and appreciate the rising sun, rather than preparing myself for a difficult day dealing with impossible people who revel in others' misery.

I do have a plan in the works, but it's not quite ready for its unveiling. It's a venture that I have considered for a good, long while and maybe the discontent of my job was the motivation I needed to put my plan in motion.

This is a huge step out of my comfort zone, but I have the full support of my wonderful husband to lean on during this transition. I'm ever-so-grateful of his faith in me, which at times has been far stronger than my own belief in myself and my abilities. With that kind of support, I know I'll be okay, no matter what the future brings.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to shuffle downstairs - in my slippers - for a refill of java that I won't need to hide from a cranky boss.

Caution: Broken-down woman ahead

2007-03-15T22:13:00.000-04:00

We're back from a birthday dinner for one of Mike's former co-workers, and I feel like someone kicked me in the gut ... repeatedly.

Why, you may ask?

Well, there was a newborn at the table ... I mean, the makeshift table that consisted of several tables squeezed together to accommodate the entire party. And, since we were the last guests to arrive, where do you think the only open seats were?

If you guessed next to the baby, you would be right.

For fuck's sake, who did I piss off today to have THAT happen?

I tried stifling my tears the entire time, but it was useless. I was desperate to dull my aching and longing for my own little boy, so I succumbed to a tall, stiff drink - a Long Island iced tea, to be exact - but even that couldn't quell the tremendous amount of sadness that emerged once I saw that little one.

I tried to suck in my tears and force the lump in my throat back down into the pit of my stomach, but my emotions were stronger than my will to not let them show, and before I could do anything to stop it, I had tears streaming down my face in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

I'm sure the birthday girl didn't expect that little surprise. It's rather doubtful that we'll have any social invitations extended to us any time soon after my little public breakdown. Really, who wants to deal with that - or even worry about whether or not they'll have to deal with it.

Of course, the other thing that made it nearly impossible to contain my emotions, was that seeing that mom with her baby made me feel like a complete and utter failure as a mother and a woman.

Even though I know no one at the party was talking about our "situation," the awkwardness of the moment made me paranoid that that was exactly what people were doing. I couldn't stop fidgeting. I nervously dug in my purse, looking for anything to distract me from the pain and sorrow that had once again found me.

It was one of those horrible moments that sent me into an unexpected tailspin, and there was nothing that could prevent it.

P.S. I don't know about the rest of you Bloggers, but this "new" Blogger is for the birds. Once again I say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Just cuz something is old doesn't mean it doesn't work and needs updating to something that's more problematic and confusing, but offered under the guise of being "better."

Ambivalent

2007-02-21T14:56:00.000-05:00

That's my new favorite word.

(Yes, I've been on a "memorable movie moments" kick.)

Seriously though, it's a good, all-encompassing word to describe myself, since I'm constantly conflicted about my feelings and attitudes toward literally everything.

I suppose I've always been this way, but my ambivalence has become much more pronounced over the last couple of years - most certainly stemming from the loss of Ryan.

But, I wonder if it's more obvious because my mind doesn't have other distractions, and instead I over-think and over-analyze every little morsel that my life is comprised of. Everything is a "should I or shouldn't I?" debate in my head - even the stupid, trivial things ... like what kind of jelly to put on my PB&J.

(Now, there's a life-altering decision waiting to be made.)

But, more often than not, it's the sad, cautious Sherry battling wills with the upbeat, optimistic Sherry. I'm not able to be as innocently optimistic about life as I once was, but it's no fun and not easy being cautious at every turn, either. I'm stuck in a weird kind of limbo, since it seems that harmony will always be too far out of my reach.

The hopeless romantic that I once was still exists, albeit in a much smaller and quieter fashion, and still daydreams about how my life could be, while the doubtful side of me clearly sees the cruel realities in my life. There aren't glasses rosy enough for the skeptic to view things the way the romantic does, so yet another conflict begins.

Hopefully one day I can resolve enough of my struggles to upgrade my ambivalent label for a much less-complicated one: Happy.