Maybe this is why?

Today I took time to do stuff with the kids. I helped Mikey with his homework, we ate dinner together, Caroleigh and Mike helped me bake some paleo cookies, we did story time. We also picked up everything and I vacuumed, so definitely more productive.

And then they go to bed and I feel so damn sad. And maybe that is why I don't do it. I sit here and think about my one baby I will never do anything with. I will never hold him again, he will never listen to me read stories. I will not get to kiss his booboos or hear his laugh. He is nothing. He is just a dream, and sometimes a nightmare.

I never got to really even feel him move that much because of my placenta. It was always a wondering if that was him or not. I have nothing good to hold on to and remember him by, just regrets of things i can never change. I will never know why he died. I will never know anything. And I can't wrap my mind around that. He is just gone and gone and gone. He is nothing. Nothing but a boy in a box. A dead box, barely a memory.

I wish he had lived just a little longer, been born and I could have seen him, with his cute cheeks and his eyes, which I am sure were beautiful. Just a few more weeks and he could have lived, he could have been born and lived. I wish I knew what happened so I could know how to keep it from happening again.

Sometimes I think I want another baby. And then I know I can't. I don't know what happened to Colm, it could happen again. And so along with my baby I mourn the chance to have the birth I have always creamed of having. To have my wonderful midwives there with me, to have my just born baby placed on my chest. To hold it wiggling and squirmy, warm and soft and wonderful. I will never experience that sensation, because I am much to terrified to go through it again.

So being with my living children reminds me of everything I will never have with Colm. And I don't want to do it because I don't want to be sad. Doing nothing is easier.

On and on....

Each day seems to go on and on and yet I get nothing accomplished. There is so much that needs to be done and I just can't seem to make myself do it. Last week I was sick, and in a way I was happy to be sick because I was able to stay in bed for two days without any guilt about not getting stuff done, not playing with the children. Today was such a gorgeous day, I should have gone to the park with the kids. I should do so many things, and I just never get around to them. Of course by the time I feel guilty about it, well then it is 9:30 at night and the kids are all in bed.

Next weekend we are going to my cousin Tommy's house, so at least then we will make some memories for the kids. I think I need to make a memory goal. One a day or something. If I don't help create happy memories, then they will only remember me as the boring mom who loved the internet more than she loved her children. Is that the mom I want to be? I don't think so, and yet I spend many hours doing just that.

So, I guess here is to a better tomorrow. Time to stop living my life in the cyber world and get out and live it for my children. Create a future of happiness for them.

The question is, can I do it?

Okay...

things have been okay. Not great, not terrible. I am surviving. I just wanted to at least say something since it has been a while since I blogged. I thought I had something to say, but once I started, I guess I really didn't.

I will try to get back here soon and start updating more often. right now the not great is still kicking my butt, and learning to know what is normal is not easy.

People need to realize

People need to know that when a family losses one of their children, it doesn't matter that the child was not 'born' it is still their baby. And is absolutely worthy of mourning.

People need to realize that four months may not be enough time to, 'get over it'.

If I tell you something wasn't a priority just two months after my son died, it means just that, and it is the reason it wasn't taken care of. And it is a valid reason.

People need to realize that we may still cry, a lot.

People need to realize that anger is a normal response to a loss, and sometimes that anger may be directed at you...don't take it personally.

People need to realize that unless I ask for it, I really don't want your advice on how to cope with my loss.

People need to realize that stillbirth is the death of a person's child, their baby, their hopes and dreams. Stillbirth hurts too. Our babies lived, it may have been in the womb only, but they had a beating heart, toes and eyes. They were human babies, not just blobs of tissue or the by products of conception.



I realize this picture has been altered, no he didn't have such nice coloring,*
but he did have eyes, and a nose, 10 perfect toes and ears. Everything a baby has. He was real. Not just to me, but to my family, to my mom, to those that care about me.
* I decided to post the 'real' Colm. I don't care if it might be upsetting to people, he is my baby and I love him. If you don't like it don't look :-P

Don't make me feel like my baby wasn't good enough to have a funeral, or a wake. Don't give me the attitude that I made the wrong choices in choosing to honor him just as I would honor any of my other children. He is my baby. My saint in Heaven. My dove. My Colm.

Pondering life...

So when exactly does life begin? At what point does a fetus become something we are allowed to call our child, our baby? At what point does it become a loss, something meaningful that others see as worthy of mourning? At 20 weeks when it becomes a stillbirth? At 40 weeks, during labor, when it becomes a birth accident? At 1 week of life after struggling to live? At conception while it is still but an embryo looking for a place to nestle and begin the journey of life?

When? At what point did Colm stop being medical waste? The State of NJ says 20 weeks. But, would I have been any less distraught had he died at 19 weeks? Would that really have mattered to me? He would still have been my baby, my little boy that wiggled and pushed in my womb.

So why, when I see the value of his life, when I know the meaning his life has to me. Why can others not see that no matter what phase of development or life your child dies, no matter when it happens the living still deserve the same amount of sensitivity. Just because a 'fetus' dies, just because it did not breath air, or cry out does not make that loss any less traumatic for the people that wanted that child to love and to hold. Just because he didn't live outside the womb, does not mean that there are not dreams that have been shattered.

No matter when your baby dies, whether it is an embryo, a fetus, a vianate, a newborn....whether it is 12 months or 12 years it is still your child and you still have every right to mourn. You have every right to feel and to grieve and to have an expectation of sensitivity.

LIttle things, like respecting the wishes of the parents. A card, a simple, "I'm sorry" would be enough.

Just be there. Be supportive and not demanding. Understand that one persons grief is not yours. Know that your loss is not their loss. Know that although you may have had the same type of trauma, you are not that person. And what was right for you may not be right for anyone else. Everyone is different and everyone must grieve in their way, not yours.

Sometimes the best thing is a hug, a kind word and a casserole.

September 6th

Today is the day I was waiting for, eagerly anticipating the birth of my fifth baby, my third little boy. I was worried about him being breech, too big, maybe ending with a c-section. Even as the doubts and the fear tickled my brain, knowing something was wrong, knowing this pregnancy would not have a happy ending. I thought it would be a c-section, that I wouldn't get the birth I was longing for, unfortunately I was right. Yet, I was wrong in so many ways.

Today I would give anything to be laying on the OR table, epidural in my back, IV in my hand and a bay to hold in my arms.

Precious little boy. My tiny saint Colm. I love you and miss you. I am thinking of you today on the day you were supposed to be born.

Drowning in sorrow

That is how I feel right now, like I am drowning in sorrow.  Colm was due this week coming up, either the 3rd of Sept or the 6th depending on who you asked.  He was due in less that a week.  Both C and E came about 1.5 - 2 weeks early, so he most likely would have been here by now.  I would be on my maternity leave, he would be sleeping in his co-sleeper next to my bed.

His small, lovely, warm body to cuddle with, his wonderful baby smell.  I will never get to experience holding him warm and breathing.  Never.  

I want my baby boy back.

Back to work tomorrow.

And I don't wanna go.  I am sure I Will be in trouble about that missed class, will most likely have to take it this week.  I am not looking forward to any of it.  I still have not 100% decided what I want to do.  I know what I WANT to do, but not sure if I can if it is even feasible.  I guess I should just be willing to see what happens.  Not be afraid to go for it, and see what happens.

So there is the 'safe' decision and the 'go for it' decision.  Both have pros and cons.  One means big changes, that could be pretty exciting, fun and fruitful.

Coming unhinged

There are too many huge decisions I need to make. I am so overwhelmed by even the smallest things. I just wish life could be easy.

Disney...and more

So on Friday the 17th as I was getting ready to leave for the day was informed I should not be allowed to go on my leave because I missed my 'fat girl' class. No, that isn't the official name, it is properly called the Healthy Living and Body Composition Improvement Program. I have been on ths progra, since Oct '06 and have yet to find any benefit from it. I only fail my fitness test because f my weight, and the information had not changed in 3 years, so really I don't feel like I missed much. At any rate I was about 3-4 minutes late, so they put me down as a no-show and the squadron commanders policy is no leave if you are delinquent on the class.

I broke down and cried in front of my flight commander. I already feel that I was robbed of time to heal and recover from my loss, and then this. It was too much, I told him I wasn't gong to re-enlist and that I jsut can't handle this anymore. I also said something about commandrs at any level being willing to take a stance for their members and that mental health is more important than worrying about getting in trouble about someone missing a class. He went and spoke to the squadron commnader and worked out a deal, I could take the trip to Disney, and woul dhave to be in the HLP class on July 28th if it was available, lucky for me it is full, so I get to take my full 2 weeks of leave!

I had fun at Disney, but the last day was hard. Thinking of Colm and how I was able to have so much fun because I wasn't pregnant. I was able to drink at Epcot, I was able to walk and not be in a lot of pain. I was able to go on rides. And I had fun, but at waht expense? I would rather have my baby. I would take the aches and pains of being 34 weeks pregnant over the fun anyday.

Dave and I met up with my Aunt and Uncle anf their son at Epcot. It was nice to get to see them. They made a good point about the re-enlistment. I think I will do it, and put up with the junk if I have to. If I fail the test and they seperate me in Dec, well then I will get severence. I guess it would be worth it.

Life is just so crazy. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. I don't want to be in the military right now. I need time for me, time to heal, time to figure out what is right for us now. I don't get that. I get pressure and worries about fitness and running and losing weight. I get more of the crap that I often wonder if it led to Colm's death. Did I push myself too hard, did I eat enough, was my body starved from the weeks before I got pregnant, from all the exercise and eating too little calories, was I just not able to properly sustain a pregnancy. My enlistment is up in Sept, so I need to hurry up and make up my mind. And I just don't know what to do.

Other information from last weeks midwife visit

So the autopsy had me upset enough to forget that some of the other info I got when I saw the midwife was probably worth sharing too.   Number one was that if we decide to have another baby, and are still in NJ, I can still have them for my providers. I am happy about that because I just love them to pieces. Seriously. They are both very caring and Pam took such good care of me during my labor with Colm. How many women have their provider stay with them during labor, I mean in the room talking and being there, getting water or juice of I asked? Plus, she let me go home when I wanted to, so I was home just 4-5 hours after Colm was born. I was afraid I would be considered high risk and 'risked' out of their care. She said she wants to take care of me if we have another baby, because she doesn't want me to have to have the pain of explaining my situation. She wanted me to know that they would just be there for me, and help me get through it, and I know they would. They would do extra ultrasounds, etc. Be there if I needed an reassurance. That is good to know. Being surrounded by caring people during pregnancy and birth...and death is so important. The human touch is an amazing medicine.

Bad news, I have a femoral hernia. I have probably had it for ages. In 2000 I was doing a fitness test and when I was doing the sit-ups I had excruciating pain. So the hernia has probably been un-diagnosed for years even though I have been complaining about it forever. From what I have read the only treatment is surgery, and since I need to be able to do sit-ups, it will probably be the case for me.

Better in the light of day

It is better today.  My mind is more clear and I can breath through my nose again.  David was still awake when I ventured upstairs, or swollen ad stuffed-up from crying.  I blurted it all out, and it feels better to have talked about it with him.  Irrational fear that he wouldn't love me anymore, yeah grief does stupid things to you.

I am still a little down today, but MUCH better.

I guess I will be busy the next few weeks, maybe busy enough to help me not think to much about my precious baby.  

David said an interesting thing last night.  He said maybe Colm was close to me last night, and when he left I felt his loss.  I don't know if stuff happens like that, but I guess it makes sense in a way.

Just something

My mind has been just going a mile a minute since yesterday.  I don't know how to feel or what to think.   I knew Colm was dead for a few days, as soon as I saw him I knew because of how his skin looked.  We got the autopsy report yesterday, it wasn't really very helpful from what they could tell he looked to be normal.  The placenta may have been undernourished for too long to really get any good information from it.  Then of course I can't understand a lot of what was said in that report, any pathologists out there wanna translate?

Macerated.  It is a horrible word and I hate it.  And that is what goes through my mind now when I think of Colm.  No, it isn't a bad word, but I hate it.  It means I let him be dead inside me for a long time, it means I was in so much denial and was so scared.  I knew he was dead, or at least he was not doing well, I knew it, I could feel it.  And I didn't do anything about it.  I know, I know, i know he was not big enough to be save, I know that, I know the outcome would not have been any different, he would still be dead.  But, maybe the placenta would have been able to tell us more.  There were clots, but that happens when the baby has been dead a long time, but it also happens when a cot is what kills the baby, and I will never know for which reason there were clots present. Yes, I can be tested for clotting disorders, I guess I should go through with that to be careful.  But, what really makes me sad, is that the only thing I really have of him are his pictures, and if I had been strong enough to admit that he was gone, well then he would have nicer pictures, because he wouldn't be macerated.  Macerated, macerated.  Severe maceration suggestive of intrauterine demise > 7 days.  And I knew.  I tried to pretend it was the anterior placenta, but I knew and I waited, and hoped and imagined movements, but he was dead and I was in denial and now it is my fault that I hate his pictures, I hate the only little part of him I have.  I hate that I look at them and feel that he isn't the beautiful baby he should be, and then I don't want to look at him and then I feel guilty about that.

HOw do you talk about something like this?  Where do you find someone who understands?  How many mothers hate the site of their own baby?

I just miss him so much.  I want my baby back.  I promise I didn't mean it when I thought to myself in the beginning that I didn't want to be pregnant.  I really, truly didn't mean it.  It is just that my back hurt, and I had my fitness test to worry about, and Evie was so young, and it was just so overwhelming at the time.  But, I really did want him.  So why does the little voice in my head keep badgering me and telling me, "you got what you asked for"?  Even then, that day when I was trying to stand up and my back was like being stabbed because of the pain.  Even that day when I thought to myself that I just didn't want to be pregnant, when I was crying because I couldn't walk.  Even that day I said to myself, "if something happens you will forever feel guilty"  Boy, was I right.  I told myself that not wanting to be pregnant because it was so painful, was NOT the same as not wanting the baby that grows inside you.  But, I still just feel so bad.  I did want him, and yet I feel like it is somehow my fault, because for one brief moment I thought to myself that I didn't want to be pregnant. 

Tonight is a sad night, and I just want my baby back.  I want my belly to be huge and my back to be hurting.  

I don't want to be the mother of a dead baby.

No catchy title

Patrick leaves tomorrow to spend two weeks with my mother-in-law. What a weird situation it is. Part of me is happy that he is going, he can use the break from his siblings, and he can be pretty difficult at times. But, I do love him a bunch and it will be strange not to have him here.

We will pickhim up when we go on vacation. Disney World here we come!

And as much as I am looking forward to going and getting away for a bit, it will surely be bitter-sweet. I will get to have drinks and go on rides, and I think it will make me cry. I should be about 34 weeks when we leave, I should be just about at the 'no travel' milestone when we get back. Instead I am worried about sticking to my diet and trying to lose 2 pounds. What a bunch of crap. I will enjoy our trip, it will be good to not have to worry about drinking at Epcot, not to worry about going on the TOwer of Terror. But, I would rather be making those sacrifices, I would rather be big and fat and wishing that my pregnancy was almost over.

New sleep schedule?

Out the window.  I am back to not feeling tired and not being able to fall a sleep easily.  Blech.  I guess it is some comfort knowing I was always like this, it isn't just because of the stress and losing my son.

So here I am, almost midnight and wide awake.  Tomorrow it will be hard to wake up, and I will be drained all day.  Then, 10 pm rolls around, or I get into bed and BAM!  wide awake.  Such a viscous cycle.  It doesn't help that D snores...rofl.

Weekly seems like enough, maybe?

Well, last week I was working on my project for my nutrition class.  I finally finished it up today.   

The past few days have been tough for me, just sad and crying a lot.  Not full out sobbing, just getting teary eyed for no apparent reason.  Then I remember and reality hits me in the face, I am the mother of a dead baby.  And I miss him, and I am jealous of the most ridiculous things.  I see a pregnant woman and I am okay, sometimes a newborn baby boy is difficult, but not too bad.  No, I am jealous of the other mommies of dead babies, some of them have better pictures then I do, some of them got to hold their baby when it was still living, some were not afraid to touch thier own baby so they held their tiny little hand.  I am jealous of other mothers of dead babies, how can that be?  We are suppsoed to stick together, none of us had a good experience, none of us had sunshine and rainbows with the birth of our precious little bundles, yet I am jealous.  How messed up is that?

Then too I don't know what to think about how I grieve.  Some women in my situation are so angry and hold on to that anger.  I am angry, but I don't know where to direct it.  At God?  At Colm? At myself?  At David?  There doesn't seem to be a good outlet for that so I let it go.  Some barely function in life, they have anxiety attacks and can't go out of the house.  I don't feel that way.  Yes, I cry, but I am not hysterical like I thought I would be before this happened to me.  When I thought of other women and how they deal with the lose of their baby.  I always thought I would be crazy with grief and I am not.  So I feel awkward as Mikey would say.  I feel like I am not doing this right.  I shouldn't be able to smile and laugh.  I should cry.  And I do cry, but I laugh more.  I smile, I feel happiness, but I feel like I am not supposed to know happiness since my baby is dead.  I am supposed to have infinite sadness, yet I don't.  But, I do.  I am sad.  Some days are hard and sadness prevails, but mostly I am happy and function very well.

I think, maybe I should go to Mental Health, but I don't know what they would do for me.  I talk about COlm, we love him and he is precious to us.  But, do I need to talk to someone else?  What would they provide?  Happiness?  I have that.  Peace of mind?  I doubt I will ever have complete peace since we don't know why he died.  Eh, I just don't think talking about him with someone I barely know will help me anymore than talking about him here, or with my friends and family.  Maybe I don't feel like I need professional help because of my close family and my good friends?

I don't know.  This whole process is just so new to me.  I miss my baby.  I want my little boy back.  But reality is he is gone and I will just have to wait to see him.  But I really, truly miss him.

New sleep shedule

So supposedly getting enough sleep leads to weight loss. So I will be trying to get to bed before 11 p.m. I usually stay up until about 12, or later. With the summer coming and the sunlight lasting longer this will be difficult. I need to have 'me' time, you know that small sliver of quiet when the children are in bed? Or at least in their rooms not being too loud? Well, this time of year it is difficult to get them to settle down before 9:30, which of course leaves very tlittle time for me to wind down, pick-up the house a bit, etc.

Ahhh. I know sleeping more will be good for me, but I like the time on the computer, the time to watch some TV. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it.

So with that siad it is off to bed. THe time is now 10:07 p.m., or 2207 for us military types.

Good night all. Tomorrow, up early and to the gym. I will get rid of this belly. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

Long week is over

So last week was 12 hour shifts. I am very happy that is over, and that I survived. I had good news last week, I will be taking my fitness test in November instead of July. That gives me plenty of time to get myself back in shape. I feel lot better knowing I won't have to hurt myself to get back in shape. It was bad enough losing Colm, but when I heard July 7th was my test date I almost fell on the floor.

Now, the decision to stay or get out. Urgh. I only need about 10 more years and then I can retire. The benefits are good. The rational mind knows retirement is important. The emotional side that is still wounded keeps thinking that September is a nice time to call it quits. Ah, what to do?

Hmmm, anything else for right now? Other than it being difficult/sad recently? I know that I will always feel sad, but will church always make me cry? Will I get past that? I don't *think I am angry at God, but for some reason I always cry at Mass. Today the priest stopped before St. Anthony before leaving the church and it got the tears flowing, again. I feel so sad for David today. I will have a year before I have to go through my first Mother's Day without Colm. It hasn't even been six weeks for Dave. He handled it like a champ though. He is my rock, I love him so much. I am thankful that this loss has not pushed us apart, on the contrary it has brought us closer together, and helped us be better parents. A silver lining? I guess, but not worth the pain and suffering.

Just frustrated...

With everything.  Myself, the kids, D, everything.  I don't know if it is losing Colm or the stress from work.  I just don't know.  

I have to work 12 hour shifts all week and I am not looking forward to that.  I don't think I have a modified schedule for patients either, and I am not looking forward to that.  I need to make a follow-up with the midwives, really not looking forward to THAT.  I am looking forward to vacation in July, it can't come soon enough.

I guess I don't feel like saying anything right now.  I thought I did, but now not so much.  I feel like I am neglecting this though and that if I don't write here I won't be accomplishing my gaol for this page, which is to help me through this junk.

Okay, so I lied

Reading over the other post, I guess it is bad.  No, work wasn't but everything associated with it is.  It sucks, it sucks a lot.  And I don't want to deal with it.  I just want it all to go away.  I just want to say screw it, and not even try to re-enlist.  Just get out.  I could do that.  And I have about 60 days of leave, so my last day would be in August.  Do you know how nice that sounds?  Less than three months until I could have freedom?  God it sounds just so tempting.  Just screw it and move on in life.  If I don;t have to worry about re-enlistment most of my stress would go away.  Of course it would open up new stress.  But, I can pass my licensing test.  I could get that and work a civilian job.  I might not make as much, but I could do it.  I would be happier.  Less bullshit to put up with.

But, then I would miss it.  I love being in the military.  I love serving for my country.  It is who I am.  My entire adult life has been dedicated to service.  I don't want to just turn my back on it.  Did I mention that this is beyond stressful?

Not too bad

Work was okay.  A few looks, you know like someone wanted to say soemthing, but didn't know what to say?  I prefer that.  I would rather someone not mention it then to say something stupid or hurtful.  And, unfortunately, even the most well meaning people say hurtful things sometimes.

I saw my medical record though.  I didn't know a 24 week stillbirth could be coded as a 'missed miscarriage'.  Or that my 24 weeks of gestation ended at 20 weeks.  Yeah, my records are wrong.  So now I have to go and figure out how to get them amended.  Mostly it wouldn't matter.  But, if I PCS to another large medical facility where I have OB care on base, well then it might matter.   Really, although both are emotionally difficult, both are devastating and life altering, a miscarriage and stillbirth are not the same.  Doctors look for different things with a stillbirth, different causes, different treatments for future pregnancies.  I can't stand when people don't do their jobs right.  I told the doctor more than one time that I was 24 weeks, so why as it wrong?  Could part of it be that he already decided what he wanted to do about my leave?  Could it be that if he changed it to 24 weeks, then he couldn't justify sending me back to work after just 2.5 weeks?  Who knows.  But, I can tell you it is frustrating.

So tomorrow i get to go to the 'fat girl' class.  The one I have been going to once a month for 3 years, yeah that one that doesn't help me in anyway at all.  Fun.  I get to sit there with all the other fat people, get the pity looks from the nutritionist and exercise physiologist.  Have someone else refuse to acknowledge the significance of a 24 week lose.  Answer questions I don't care to answer.  Do a 60 minute spin class, because my profile expired.  Fun.  All because I have to worry about my career because I might not get to re-enlist.  Nice.  So not looking forward to that.  Oh, yeah and it is during lunch.  Great.

Okay this is really negative.  I hate being so darn negative, but I am just feeling so beaten down.  I have to be 'happy' and put on my game face for work.  I know in my head I can be sad, cry, maybe they will send me home, but that isn't ME.  I don't do that.  I lose my baby, and now I might nose my career all because of a disease I can't control.  If I had a bum knee I could get a waiver for that, but you can't get a waiver for weight because that is the disease of laziness.  God, I am far from lazy.  I work hard and my body doesn't' cooperate.  I WANT to be thin, heck I would be happy to be 150 pounds.  I want to pass that damn test.  I HATE being a failure.  That seems to be me right now, failure.  

I need to be positive to have a positive attitude and push myself to do what needs to be done. I will, I will push myself, but I am so afraid that it won't work again.  That I will be so good, eat right, exercise and still not lose the weight.  I don't know if I can handle that again, right now, so soon.  It is too much pressure.  Just too much.  The future of my family rests on this one damn test.  Did I mention I was told today I would have to take it in July?  Yup, just finished six months of pregnancy, but I get 42 days to get in shape and pass the test.  I know I can't lose 30 pounds in those few weeks.  That isn't even safe.  So I am screwed from the get go.  I don't even know how well I could run by then.  Why does all of this have to happen now?  Talk about stress.

Oh, and the Pollyanna in me keeps thinking'  "Well, they thought you were 20 weeks.  If they *knew you were 24 they would have more compassion, more understanding."  But, Pollyanna is dying inside me.  I have always been able to find a silver lining, there was always a positive spin, but they are harder and harder to find these days.  I just feel so beat down.

We'll see

Well, it is back to work tomorrow. I a really not looking forward to it. But, what else can I do. More on it tomorrow when I get home, hopefully it isn't too bad.

I feel like writing, but have nothing to say.

I don't even know how to feel, what to think, what to say, what to do. I want to say everything, to write everything to just let it spill out, but nothing seems to be right. I type and it feels wrong, I peak and I stumble over what I mean. Blah, it is frustrating.

It is back to work on Monday, work with its own set of frustration and hurt. Work, where the doctor was so callous and egotistical. Work, where patients will know and look. Some will say kind things, others will say things they mean to be kind but will wound, and still others will say nothing at all, but will still look. The pity. Oh how I hate the pity. Just say you are sorry. If you are a chick, give me a hug and say nothing. But, please, please don't look at me with pity. I am not a child that lost my bag of candy on Halloween. I didn't fall and scrape my knee. I lost my baby, my baby died and he won't be coming back. Don't give me a pitying look because if you do I might just turn into a crazy lady.

Sometimes I sit and think about how different things are, and others I feel no change at all. I feel hollow inside, I feel tired and raw. Yet I feel the same. I have four children, wait, no Caroleigh counted and I have five, she said so, 'mommy you have five kids, but my baby brother, he died.' And she is right, I have five children, but people will only see four. When I talk about my births, I have had 4 vaginal births, four VBACs, but how do I tell people that? When they count my children they will see just four. Will I want to always tell them about Colm? Will I want always to see their sadness, their pity, the fear? But, if I don't tell them, then I deny my son. I abandon him and then does he begin to not exist, even in my heart?

So back to work. I used to sleep fine, then the doctor said I was able to work. And his attitude, his mannerism, his lack of professionalism, all of them sent me into a downward spiral. Knowing that others felt they knew better, never asked me but made decisions for me anyway. Knowing I was being treated as less than the person I am. The emotional punch was profound, and since that day sleep has been difficult. How frustrating, for the first two weeks i escaped the sleep issues and then the person who should have been helpful and compassionate kicked me int he gut and sent me deeper into the difficulties associated with stress.

So back to work Monday. I am not ready, I may never be, but this Monday is still just too soon. It hasn't even been a month. Not even four weeks, and it is still just too soon.

The Doves

There are doves that hang out near our house now. I don't know if they are there every year, but we didn't notice them until the morning after we got home for them hospital. We can hear them outside the window, and see them perched on the house across from us. I like them, they bring me comfort. Colm's name means 'dove' and I feel like he is sending a visitor to our house to remind us of him.

So, I have to decide if I take next week off too. I want to, but as usual I am worried about work and if they can afford to have me gone another week. I know they will survive without me, but I hate being 'that person' that doens't carry their weight. At the same time, I don't want the pitying looks from patients, I am NOT ready for that. I don't know if I will ever be, but for right now a little more protection would be good.

On a positive note my brothers and cousin are home safely from Iraq! They got in this week. We are hoping to spend some time with them if they get free time this weekend.

Time

I know there will never be enough time to heal my heart.  There will never be a day that I don't think of my beautiful son and long to hold him just one more time.  There will never be a day that I don't wish that something had been different.  There will never, ever be enough time.

I want to tell my story, to tell all of it and to let the world know how I feel.  Yet, at the same time I don;t want to seem whiny and irrational, like a child trying to get attention.  I want to talk about how it feels knowing that no one else, not even my husband understands how I feel, just as I don't understand how he feels.  I want to shout to the world how rudely I was treated by my doctor, and how wrong I feel it is the way I am treated by my work.  

Why do I realize that it is birth, why can't they?  Why is maternity leave only for those who have a living baby?  Why am I expected to return to work less than three weeks after I delivered my child into this world?  Because I didn't take him home?  Because he didn't breath?  Because his little heart stopped beating at 24 weeks?  My pain is still real.  I still feel the effects of giving birth, and I still need time.  I need all the time in the world, and I will never ever get it.

Is it possible?

Is it possible to be TOO angry to write?  I guess it is because that is how I feel.  I wrote about it on my message boards, I guess for the feedback, to know i was not nuts in thinking I was wronged.  But, to write it here makes it real and the reality sucks.  I don't know if there is anything I can, or want to do about the situation though.  It is wrong, it downright sucks, but I don't know the regulations, I don't know what governs the rules in this situation.  And who is the ultimate decision maker.  And I don't know who to talk to to find out, and I don;t know who to talk to to make a change for the positive.

Bleh

Today not so great.  I feel like I am so high one minute and then in the dumps again a little while later.  It was church that did me in today.  I just felt so sad and lost.  I started to feel like I just needed to leave, but I couldn't.  Evie was being a little noisy so Dave took her to the back.  Caro and Mike were in children's church and Pat was pretending to be sick.  So I was all alone, crying.  I wanted to leave, I needed to run, but I made myself stay.  Feelings of anger and hatred are what I felt.  Even when I received communion I felt like I was just so angry, then of course I felt guilty for receiving when I was angry at God.  Crazy, huh?  Darn Catholic guilt.

So still I cry.  Dave asks if I am okay, and I say yes.  He knows it is a lie, but there is nothing he can do to make me feel better, so what else can I say.

Today, not so good.  Tomorrow, better?  Maybe.

Not too bad

I had lots of good stuff planned today. My best friend came over this afternoon and we cooked together, which is what we always do, darn foodies. It was yummy of course, lots of garlic. We went to the H Mart too, which is a big Asian market in Cherry Hill. It was cool and I can't wait to go back. They sell fish cake! I love that stuff.

We had Saturday morning clean-up. I guess the kids are getting used to the idea because they didn't fight it as much as usual. The house looks decent, so I feel better.

The sadness, yup, still there. I really just want my baby. I feel weird. I had a drink tonight, the first in AGES, and in my mind I kept thinking I am not supposed to be drinking. It is weird because I know I am not pregnant, but with no little bitty baby to hold my brain still thinks I am. I feel sort of empty, but not like you would think, not like my whole world is ending, but just like my guts are gone. Anyone who has had a baby knows that empty feeling, but it is different. Empty, but not AS empty as you feel when you go to 39+ weeks. I don't feel like my intestines are going to fall out of my abdomen, but still like something is missing. Definitely a part of me is gone.

I wonder when I will feel normal again, maybe I never will.

Small steps

I went to the grocery store today.  It only took a week to decide I should do it.  Well, I shouldn't have, but someone had to and I don't think David was going.  I saw one person I know, I said hi and left it at that.  He asked how I was doing and I stumbled I wanted to say, 'sad' but instead I said, 'okay.'  Why do we lie like that?  I am not okay.  I have been down all day today, so why do I lie?

My friend is coming over tomorrow.  I am looking forward to it.  We get together every few weeks and hang out.  Tomorrow is tapas, shrimp, beef and garlic...yum.

Even the littlest things...

seem overwhelming right now. I am not ready for Patrick to be ten. His birthday is Monday and we have no party planned. I feel horrible. If I were okay I could get something together in time, but I just don't have the energy.

And they think I can go back to work next week? Sigh.

And even if...

We have another child people will see five, but truthfully we would have six. There will always be a piece of our family missing.

I wish I could go back in time and figure out that he was struggling sooner, I wish there was something I could do to save him.

I don't want a box!

Today and yesterday were pretty good for the most part. We had to pick up Colm's remains today and even that wasn't too bad. His box/urn is small, so it will fit in the memory box I have.

Patrick had an art show at his school tonight, he had a water lily painting on display, it was nice and totally in his 'style'. As we were getting redy to leave I just got sad. I don't know what triggered it. But I felt so very sad. The feeling is lingering right now.

All I can think is I don't want a box. I want my baby. I want to see him grow up. I want him. So now it is a bit sad. I feel sadness in my heart, and I miss him.

Morning again

I feel asleep on the couch, I didn't plan to do that. I sat down to watch the last few minutes of something on the Travel Channel and the next thing I knew I woke up to the TV turning on at 6:30 this morning. I guess I got some good sleep, but it is WAY more comfortable in my bed.

Patrick wasn't too difficult to get ready for school, he doesn't want to go, he thinks he should get to stay home more. He needs to go though because he missed a lot of days already this year. Plus, I don't want to have to do all that make-up work with him, too much stress for us.

Sometimes I think about how I should grieve. I think about how I have seen other women react, think of their anger and their bitterness. People say to me, 'if you need anything' I have seen women yell and cry out when asked this. I have heard them say, 'the only thing I need is my baby back, and you can't do that for me.' Sometimes I think it, 'if you could bring my Colm back.' But, it isn't bitterness, it is a reality, of course I would like my baby back, but I know I can't have him. So there is no point in holding those thoughts, no point in telling people that, why cause them more pain when they are just trying to help. Of course I would love to hold my baby, to see him looking beautiful and not to have the memory of how he looked for real. But, that isn't going to happen. He is in Heaven. I know that he is, he is my only child that I know without a doubt has made it to live his eternal life with God. How can I be sad for him? When I cry it is for me, for the future I have lost, for the smiles I will not see, for the laughter I will not hear. The tears are mine, they are David's, but they are not for Colm, because he has eternal happiness. He will never feel cold, he will never be hungry, he will never fall and hurt himself. He made it to Heaven and only experienced warmth and love. How can I be sad for him? My tears are for us, and almost seem selfish, I should rejoice in his eternal life!

Foggy

Things are kind of foggy.  I think I remember something and then it is gone, my mind is constantly shifting.   One minute I think about how much I miss him, then I think of something that needs to be done, like getting the note from my midwife for my maternity leave.  And then I forget the important thing.  I have always been forgetful, but this is worse.

Speaking of maternity leave.  It seems weird to call it that.  Yes, I gave birth, I labored for 12 hours, 4 of those pretty painful to where I thought about taking some IV drugs.  But, without a baby it doesn't feel like maternity leave.  It is such a sad thing.

I didn't cry as much as I thought I would today.  It was hard, and I didn't want to say goodbye, so I didn't.  And I really would just like to have him back...my baby.  I miss him and I don't really even know him.

Weird

I guess I forgot to save what I wrote about Colm's wake. It was good, there were more people than I expected there. My Uncle John spoke and said a blessing and then he asked my mom to come and speak. She talked about Colm's box, well his coffin, and how we decorated it ourselves. It was such a good project for me, I was able to make something for him, something he got to use, even if it wasn't during his lifetime.

Today is his Resurrection Mass. I guess it is time to get ready now. I hope I can keep it together.

One down one to go

We had Colm's wake tonight. Some people thought it was weird, but I am so happy we did it. There were a lot of people there, many more than I thought would be. We really do have wonderful family and friends. My Uncle John spoke and said a blessing. Then he had my mom come up and talk about Colm's box, well really it was his coffin. It was beautiful, as much as a casket for a baby can be. We decorated it ourselves, even the funeral director and his assistant thought it was great. It was so good for me to work on it, to make something for my son.

When my om spoke there was not a dry eye in the place. I still find it amazing how many families have endured this pain. Many women tell me of their own losses, and sadly how they were treated. I am blessed to have my family and friends and to have given birth to Colm in the hospital in Trenton. The nurses were kind and respectful and gave us so much compassion. They provided us with memories that we can cherish, even in such difficult times.

Morning sucks

I wake up and try to get the kids ready for school, it doesn't work. Everytime they fight and fight, they have no choice but they think if they fight us they won't have to go. On a good day this is difficult to deal with, but now it is next to impossible. Just put on your clothes, get dressed, get out of bed. Is it asking too much for them to just do it without being difficult, just one day? Is it asking too much? Mikey has already missed the bus, I don't have the strength to finish making him get ready. I bet he is on the floor pretending to be sick, that is what he usually does.

Day 4, I think

Moments of happiness overshadowed by the complete sorrow, mourning that I have never felt. Nothing in life that I have lost is anywhere near the pain of losing my baby. Medical waste, he was referred to by someone as medical waste. He had 10 fingers, 10 perfect toes, ears that were formed, his eyes were open everything was how it was supposed to be. He was perfect in every way, except that he didn't breath, his heart no longer beat. He was much more than medical waste. I don't care that the law says he was just a bundle of cells, that I could have decided to have him ripped from my womb if I cared to, he is/was a human baby. He was not just a bundle of cells, not just medical waste, he is my son, my baby, and now my saint. Saint Colm.

Earlier I thought it was a good day, I felt saddness, but it was tolerable. But now again I feel such sorrow. I think of how he looked and how I wish I could see him in his heavenly body, he must be so beautiful. Tomorrow will be hard and I don't know if I am ready. His services will mean it is real, I will have to come to terms with the truth that my baby died. Why us? We are not perfect parents, sometimes we yell too much or are maybe not as loving as we could be, but we ar enot bad parents. We love our children, we nourish them physically and spiritually. Why our son? Why us and not some deadbeat, crack head? I try to convince myself that I did nothing wrong, but I must have to deserve such deep, deep sorry.

4:55pm
Sometimes I wonder why I am so tired, why I just don't feel great and then I remember that I just gave birth less than a week ago. I forget because I don't have the baby to hold in my arms. But, I am still indeed recovering physically from child birth and pregnancy. I need to remind myself because I have been doing way too much.

8:16pm

Dinner is finished.  I am very grateful for our community here, they have helped us immensely by bringing us meals so we don't have to cook dinner.  Considering we have just about no food in the house, this is a good thing.  We needed to go shopping the day we found out that Colm had died.  I had planned on going after I went to see the midwife, but instead I got to go to the hospital to deliver my dead son.  So, no food for us.  We have pancakes.  I guess I will make those for the boys before school. I know I will probably be awake anyway.

9:37 pm

So many things we didn't do.  We never took any pictures of my pregnant belly.  I never posted pictures of my ultrasound to my message board.  I didn't order his new diapers.  I kept putting off the belly pictures. I was going to take some at 10, 15 and 20 weeks to start, and I didn't.  I still wonder if I knew all along that he wasn't going to make it.  I still feel like it is my fault.  I should have taken my vitamin more regularly.  I should have eaten better, no sushi, no lunch meat, no candy.  I know better than to think like this, but it is so difficult not to.

10:14 pm

Again I find something that I wish I had done differently.  Colm was supposed to be my 'prefect' birth. In the back of my mind I knew something was going to go wrong.  I thought it would end in c-section for some reason.  But, no, I couldn't have something that mildly upsetting.  I get this.  This horrible death.  He died!  He was supposed to be put into my arms the minute he was born.  I was supposed to hold him first!  And even my dead baby goes to a table before he comes to me.  

Giving this a try

So I have so many thoughts going through my head since I lost my son.  I need somewhere to get them out and think and cry and laugh.  I guess this is a good way to try to get some understanding.

Today is day three since my littlest baby was born, day three since my world was turned upside down and my dreams were shattered.  You always think how sad it is when someone loses a child, and then it happens to you and it is even worse than you could imagine.  And yet, it isn't as hard at the same time.  You want so much to have them back, to hold him to be able to love him, but he is in a far better place where he will never feel suffering.  But, I am selfish and I want him...he is mine and I want him back.

The what-ifs have started.  What-if I didn't lay on my back the other day, what if I didn't eat so many Hershey Kisses, what-if I paid more attention to his movements, what-if I went last week could they have delivered him?  would he have survived?  What-if, what-if, what-if.  Did I not eat healthy enough, should I have quit exercising, was it the day I did the elliptical for 25 minutes?  How, why, was it something I did? And yet none of this will bring him back, but I so wish I could.

So now I mourn my youngest child, Colm Cornelius, my tiny little saint in Heaven.

Slumber Boat

Baby's boat's the silver moon,
Sailing in the sky,
Sailing o'er the sea of sleep,
While the clouds float by.
Sail, baby, sail,
Out upon that sea,
Only don't forget to sail
Back again to me.
Back again to me.

Baby's fishing for a dream,
Fishing near and far,
His line a silver moonbeam is,
His bait a silver star.
Sail, baby, sail,
Out upon that sea,
Only don't forget to sail
Back again to me.
Back again to me.