tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86942135335213681882024-03-21T06:46:58.744-07:00Tisi's TiradesDedicated to all the mothers who have lost a baby and are pissed at the injustice of it all. Let the tirades begin!Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-62560661585999142072013-01-07T14:14:00.005-08:002013-01-07T14:14:58.740-08:00Yes, I Still Remember What It Felt Like to Not Have My Rainbow<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's very hard to be angry when you know you have finally been blessed with your rainbow baby. But every once in a while there is a little niggling angry thought that pervades my brain, especially when it comes to my friends who have not yet been blessed with that rainbow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I was trying to conceive, losing, trying again, losing, trying again, and finally being pregnant for the long haul, things like pictures of babies, pregnant women, and happy families made me run away crying, or have that deep feeling in my stomach that things would never be okay again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was even more painful when it came from my rainbow loss mommies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You would think that I would have been okay with seeing their rainbow's smiling face, but no, no I wasn't. I still didn't have my rainbow. I didn't even have hope. Yet some of them really didn't remember what it felt like to be on the other side of the fence, the side where the grass was so dark brown and rotten that you didn't even know what green grass was anymore. I wondered if I did have my rainbow someday if I would be able to remember fully. Would I remember to not thrust my child in someone's face, not knowing if they had a loss? Would I remember to not post pictures on loss boards? Would I remember to put *TRIGGER* in front of every post that mentioned that I had my rainbow?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am happy to report that I do remember. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I remember those who helped me climb this mountain. And I will make sure that every day I remember to turn around, extend my hand, and pull each and every one of these ladies up until they too have their rainbow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I will do it by keeping my rainbow in front of me, out of sight, until they are ready.</span>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-63097242105752470572012-06-22T07:28:00.002-07:002012-06-22T07:29:10.191-07:00After Two Years, My Rainbow Baby is Finally Here<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">**Trigger Post**</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On June 2nd, my husband and I welcomed our rainbow baby into the world. She's a beautiful little girl (we had no idea which we were having), and weighed 7 lb, 1.8 oz and measured 21.8 inches. She came via Cesarean due to complications after a nice 16 hours of pain med free labor where the cord was wrapped around her neck and certain labor positions were causing decelerations in her heartbeat. I was put on oxygen. I was terrified. I couldn't risk it. When my doctor mentioned plan B, I said "DO IT."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So here I sit, almost three weeks later, with my little girl in my arms. Her heart shaped face and delicate features seem a contrast to my own. I spend hours looking at her and wondering where she came from, trying to associate this little girl with the one that I dopplered every day in my belly, the one I poked with abandon at my NSTs. I'm confused at where my pregnancy went, and where she came from. They don't seem to be the same little person. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Every hour I check her to make sure she's breathing, and I still can't put her down out of my sight in her crib, despite having a monitor. Every day I wonder when the universe is going to steal her away from me. It's a whole new set of fears. And those songs that I sang to her while she was in the womb? Well I certainly didn't expect that I would be singing them someday to my daughter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The hardest moment came when I was released from the hospital on June 5, 2012. This was two years exactly from being released from a different hospital with my arms empty and leaving my stillborn son behind. This time I was holding a little miracle as I was wheeled to my car. My daughter's first outing was to the cemetery as we held a balloon release for my son. It was a day of such absolute joy and such absolute sadness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Having my rainbow makes me realize what I'm missing not having my son here. It makes me realize what I will never see him do. I remember the days after his birth as I thought about him my milk would let down and it was salt in a wound. Now as I sit here breastfeeding my daughter, I think about what it would have been like to have a toddler running around at the same time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I can't bring him back, and I can't bring back the two I lost so early, but I can devote all of my love to my daughter. And I can try to remember that she is a very special girl as she has three angels who will watch over her as she grows.</span>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-47028897474843493502012-05-23T16:33:00.000-07:002012-05-23T16:33:28.012-07:00Annoying Question #2: Are You Excited?<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">**Trigger post below**</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So I am 38 weeks and 1 day pregnant with my rainbow today and the new question I am asked repeatedly is "Are you excited?" This is a question that most normal pregnant women can answer quickly and without reservation. For me and other baby loss mommies? It's not that simple.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Excited is when you know something is going to happen and you're sure. Excited is when it's only a matter of time until this great thing. Excited is when you can't stop talking about something even when you promise yourself you will keep it to yourself. Excited is when it pours forth from your face and the grin spreads all the way to your toes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So am I excited? I'm not sure I know how to be. My rainbow is still not here, and as I sit here typing this and my rainbow dragon kicks merrily, I'm still skeptical that I will get to bring him/her home. I keep waiting for that "Go to Jail. Go Direction to Jail" card.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I realized I'm more under that guise of anticipation than excitement. For those of you who play video games, there's an easy way to describe my feelings. It's as if I have spent a long time playing a difficult game, one where I keep thinking I'm going to make it, but the game keeps crashing, or my character keeps getting killed. So here I am, at the final level, where I can almost taste victory, where I know that just maybe I will see those end credits roll. But I can't give in to that excitement because I will lose and have to start all over again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I wish I could be excited. But I wish I could be a lot of things. I wish I could have enjoyed this pregnancy rather than be terrified at every turn. Pregnancy should be a wonderful experience, full of happiness and joy and wonder. For those of us who have gotten pregnant after our loss, it's an experience of fear, worry, and the feeling that if we become excited we will get yanked back to our senses by our ponytails. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some days I really feel like chopping that ponytail off.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-64212406661154743922012-04-22T16:18:00.002-07:002012-04-22T16:27:04.411-07:00Surviving Mother's Day as a Baby Loss Mommy<span >I cannot believe that we are approaching Mother's Day again. I remember last year when for Mother's Day I was pregnant with my rainbow, and I remember miscarrying a week or two after. I remember going to work and hearing everyone tell all of the mother's with living children Happy Mother's Day, while completely ignoring me. I remember crying at my desk and thinking "I am a Mom too."</span><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I remember loving spending time with my mom, but I really remember hating Mother's Day. Luckily, my husband saved it somewhat by gifting me with a beautiful memory bracelet with the birthstones of my three angel children.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >This time I am farther along with my rainbow, in fact I will be full term, but the pain is still the same. While I am happy and terrified with a smidgeon of hope for my rainbow, I know I will spend time at the cemetery again, wondering why for some women pregnancy is so easy. Some women just "snap their fingers" and magically get pregnant and have their babies, one after the other, and some of us struggle and deal with pain that these women will never know. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I know all baby loss mommies dread this day like no other. It's important for us to remember to acknowledge our friends and loved ones who have lost babies too. We need to remember for each other and reach out and tell each other Happy Mother's Day, because we all are mothers, some of us are just forgotten ones.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I hope that all of us can celebrate this year or next with our rainbows, and as we hug our rainbows tight, we can still honor our angels who came before. And I really hope that a couple weeks after I will be gifted with a fourth birthstone charm to add to my bracelet, this time one to represent a rainbow.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-78783546051064180202012-04-06T17:46:00.002-07:002012-04-06T18:01:37.808-07:00Annoying Question #1: Is This Your First? (Part Two)<span >Now that I am fully and visibly showing to just about everyone, this question is asked almost daily. I covered this question and whether or not to respond "yes" or "no", but I find that lately I feel the added complication of stillbirth versus miscarriage.</span><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >No, this isn't my first. I had a stillborn son almost two years ago. But I also suffered two miscarriages. I find when I tell people "No, I had a stillborn son", I am riddled with waves of guilt regarding the two "youngest" children, the ones that only grew to 6 1/2 weeks. The ones that had a heartbeat that stopped three days later. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >But the ones I wanted just as much as my stillborn son, and just as much as the one I carry now.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >If I say no, I have three angels, then I feel like I minimize the loss of my stillborn son, because automatically people lump him into the "just a miscarriage" category. And while my two miscarriages were painful and hurt me to the core, they are different than when I delivered and held my son and was wheeled out of Labor and Delivery, with empty arms.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Unfortunately I don't have a solution yet. Until then, I will continue to say my first was stillborn. Perhaps I should add, "And I lost two early on afterwards." Will that make it better? Somehow I doubt it. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Until then, I guess I will do what I have been doing, just stick one foot in front of the other, and pray that I will get to bring this rainbow baby dragon home. And I will continue to open my mouth and tell people that yes, I have lost a child. I have lost three children. Perhaps it will help those silently hurting feel less alone.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-25345250284236966842012-03-19T16:21:00.003-07:002012-03-19T16:36:37.668-07:00Poodle Syndrome: Your Baby is Not a Fashion Accessory!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ay6GuoTCJksVt_K7Yycn9zBrkiGQcTPpWWzgTrc6JTUEOVIgw0F3_s-tevZLgmGAxdTfWt6mrASMZ5yLTcmYkNfenU8LiixC3Ogh9YsEcBBmo0vRyYrzD6nPpU5mXlj1aTj1_ZSmGls/s1600/toy-poodles.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ay6GuoTCJksVt_K7Yycn9zBrkiGQcTPpWWzgTrc6JTUEOVIgw0F3_s-tevZLgmGAxdTfWt6mrASMZ5yLTcmYkNfenU8LiixC3Ogh9YsEcBBmo0vRyYrzD6nPpU5mXlj1aTj1_ZSmGls/s200/toy-poodles.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721756244434955858" /></a><span >I am noticing an alarming number of women lately who have decided that their baby (born or unborn) is their new fashion accessory, much like a poodle with a jeweled collar that is for ornamentation and attention. One of these women was heard saying, "Is it okay, since I'm having a summer baby, to lay out on the beach all day with it?"</span><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I haven't had the fortune to be blessed with a living child yet, however, I know a few things:</span></div><div><span >Babies poop.</span></div><div><span >Babies spit up.</span></div><div><span >Babies pee.</span></div><div><span >Babies emit other bodily fluids that I'm sure I will get used to.</span></div><div><span >Babies do not sleep when you want them to.</span></div><div><span >Babies need attention.</span></div><div><span >Babies get sun burned.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Does this woman think that this baby is going to be dressed up in a cute little sundress with sunglasses hanging out in a baby suitcase (otherwise known as an infant car carrier) and it's going to sleep peacefully while she lies out on the sand for her 6-8 hours on the beach and not have any of these typical baby things happen?</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Then there are the women who are at Babies R Us, complaining vigorously to their husbands that my GOD, they cannot get this stroller because it does not match the car seat or the bouncer or the swing or the high chair. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Then there is the woman I saw the other day, heavily pregnant, placing a pair of sparkly hooker shoes on the conveyer belt with her perfectly groomed hair, brows and nails and her Coach bag. With the other items she had on the belt, it was apparent that when this child came, it would be dressed like her and it would quickly learn materialism. I'm pretty sure this is a woman who also was more concerned with finding out the sex of the child than finding out if her child was healthy.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Is it wrong to think of my (hopefully) soon-to-be-here rainbow as a child that I want healthy and happy, and I don't care if it doesn't have a onesie that has a perfectly ornamental gerber daisy bigger than its head to match (if it's a girl). Am I so wrong to think that maybe the first several months of this baby being here is going to be hard work, where I am sleep deprived and in need of a long, hot bath that I will never take? </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I really hope that these women get an awakening. I really hope that these women learn to get their priorities straight, that having a baby is the most rewarding gift of all and something that shouldn't be taken for granted. </span><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">I really hope that these women's babies spit up in their Coach bags. </span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-82645923793734960092012-03-10T06:10:00.002-08:002012-03-10T06:21:49.217-08:00Navigating Uncharted Territory After a Pregnancy Loss<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0fUIr5uB0veW8wwjp-wqfszoFrdIpzj6RxJZgtwjJSLdFWjJ9H9dz8BglLs3zz8njZ-RWJIWmYQ-BbWBJIZ5ymQ716IVMRVhS82NG34Tn7Vfkl9BxpDk6X0lXccCDpVk2TxCgccw7Cw/s1600/pirate+ship.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0fUIr5uB0veW8wwjp-wqfszoFrdIpzj6RxJZgtwjJSLdFWjJ9H9dz8BglLs3zz8njZ-RWJIWmYQ-BbWBJIZ5ymQ716IVMRVhS82NG34Tn7Vfkl9BxpDk6X0lXccCDpVk2TxCgccw7Cw/s200/pirate+ship.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718273445132532866" /></a><span >**Trigger - Pregnancy Mention**</span><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >So here I sit at 27w4d pregnant, in uncharted territory. Before I reached this point I felt like I had a map, but it was all wrong. On my map, it listed pain and suffering, and finding out that my baby wasn't growing. It listed things like the heartbeat stops at this point and you find out that the growth is slowing at this point and your weight goes down at the doctor's office at this point. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Except for my map was apparently wrong.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Now my map lies discarded in the corner and I feel like I'm adrift at sea with no compass, no map, and just a ton of people repetitively telling me that of course everything's going to be okay! And I still look at these people like they are telling me that the world is round. Of course it's not, it's flat. I'm just not sure when I'm going to drop off into the abyss on the other side. And that parrot on my shoulder keeps laughing at me the entire time.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I thought that the weight would be gone from my shoulders at this point, and the truth is, I do feel a little lighter, but not much. Just yesterday I ran for the doppler when there was a quiet day. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >There are still reminders everywhere. This morning I attempted to go to a Mom2Mom sale, stupidly by my lonesome. It was in the building where I checked out my son's first daycare. I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking, and I did buy a couple of things, but then I came careening out of the building and drove myself straight to the cemetery where I dissolved into tears.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >It's not lighter, it's just different. I seem to be better able to see the sun, but it's still not quite shining on me. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >In the midst of this, I have "well-meaning" people tell me "Just relax!" as if that will make it all better. I have had to shove my hands in my pockets several times to tell my martial arts self that punching them will only get myself arrested. Sometimes I try to bargain with myself. "But just one punch?" "No." "Fine, but can I just...?" "No."</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Well, at least I still have my tongue. I'll just blame it on hormones.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-11473931629194788492012-02-25T15:22:00.004-08:002012-02-26T07:45:15.641-08:00Stupid Situation #11: Avoiding a Bridal/Baby Shower with Babies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpd2REUcbSV2hg8e0QPVPXvRsTRiNB0kFz6RWffxI8Z6X0lw-Yq_i9xkI9m85NyEW_lKJKxww2ZOjKRr_9KST3ASdFs5VEL4aE4lsY9uE8mc1J4pYz76wV4sBzC0TfAqP67M1jAXryUI/s1600/BridalShowerGreen.preview.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpd2REUcbSV2hg8e0QPVPXvRsTRiNB0kFz6RWffxI8Z6X0lw-Yq_i9xkI9m85NyEW_lKJKxww2ZOjKRr_9KST3ASdFs5VEL4aE4lsY9uE8mc1J4pYz76wV4sBzC0TfAqP67M1jAXryUI/s200/BridalShowerGreen.preview.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713470844127255666" /></a><span >It's surprising that I haven't been thrown into this situation until now, but one of my friends is getting married and she's having her Bridal Shower this afternoon. I had told myself that I would not be able to handle a Baby Shower, even for my best friend (assuming she got pregnant, which she isn't), but a Bridal Shower? This I could do.</span><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Until I learned there would be at least two babies there.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Everyone handles their grief differently. Most of us stay well away from babies and small children because it's too painful of a reminder of what we don't have. A few of us rush to hold someone else's baby because it's a part of their healing process. Me? I don't want to be around any until I have my own in my arms. Even then, I can't say as when it will be comfortable for me to recognize that other people have had them too.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I realize I can't avoid babies. They're at the stores, my neighbors had them (three of them at once this past summer which was just a thorn in my eyeball every time I walked outside), they're being pushed around anywhere and everywhere you look. But I definitely can avoid getting in my car and deliberately driving somewhere where they will be right next to me, especially during this final week of my "loss zone". I can avoid a situation where people are going to pass around an infant and as a woman I'm supposed to coo and hold the baby.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >The next baby I hold will be my own. Living and breathing. Or I won't do so at all.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >And as I sat here thinking about excuses that I could make to not attend, my dinner decided not to agree with me and I've been gifted with a horrible stomach ache. I'm sending up my thanks right now.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-66518503570680028632012-02-04T21:11:00.000-08:002012-02-09T04:51:18.006-08:00Rainbow Pregnancy Loss Zone<div><span>**Triggers**</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><span>Sorry I've been away for a couple of weeks. I've been sticking my head in the ground like an ostrich, hoping that this rainbow pregnancy will speed by. I've even asked people to hit me over the head and knock me out and wake me up in a few months. Sadly, no one has taken me up on it yet. </span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I'm now in my loss zone, the period of time where everything went wrong with my son. To be honest, I never thought I would even make it this far again. Now that I am here, I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall. It hasn't, but when will it? </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>It's a strange idea that everyone else seems to have no problems with the idea that there will be a rainbow baby here at the end of May/early June. People are buying things, talking about baby showers, asking me how excited I am and for names. I just stare blankly when these conversations happen, almost as if my synapses don't fire. As if I don't recognize that they're talking about me. Two weeks ago I was told to start training my coworker for my leave and I looked at her and said "Where am I going?" </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Today I have my repeat ultrasound to check the growth of the baby. For me, it is hurdle one of the scariest two jump hurdle in my life. It is the ultrasound where I will see if it happened again. As I type this, my hands are shaking and I can't stop crying. I know very well that they will check my blood pressure before the appointment and it will be fairly high. I feel like I should be wearing combat gear to go to this appointment. As I drive, I will be listening to 30 Seconds to Mars "This is War". I put on a minimal amount of make-up in case there's a lot of crying to be done. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>And sometimes, the worst thing is as I sit there in the waiting room with women who have never lost a baby, they will be looking at me bawling and wondering what is wrong with me. They cannot possibly understand my pain or my fear. Especially as they have brought their mother, father, sister, cousin's cousin and some guy off of the street to see their ultrasound. I, on the other hand, am just going to try to survive and hope I come out intact with baby on the other side.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>To those of you who have navigated your loss zone, know that you are very strong women, capable of anything. And for those of you who haven't yet, know that you are not alone, and my love goes with you and I will be holding your hand.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-63340371394125557592012-01-13T07:50:00.000-08:002012-01-13T08:11:47.141-08:00Healthy First Pregnancy Does Not Equal Immunity to Loss<span class="Apple-style-span" >As I get farther into my rainbow pregnancy, I see a lot of shocked and indignant women when they learn that there is something very wrong with their baby or that their baby has died. "But my first was perfectly fine!" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">These are the same women who usually follow it up with a comment that we've touched on before - "Pregnancy loss doesn't happen to people like me" or "People don't lose babies in my family".</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Why is it that these are the same women who can also quote the age-old saying of "Every pregnancy is different"? If every pregnancy is different, that means that the wheel of fortune starts spinning each time you get pregnant. Just because you made it to the final round and came out with the grand prize, a healthy and living baby, does not mean you have been granted super powers and your next pregnancy will be perfectly fine. I sincerely wish this was the case, as we all do, but we all know quite differently. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >All pregnancies are fragile and subject to Russian Roulette. Baby loss mommies know this all too well. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I look at the women who have never had a loss and take their children for granted and I think how lucky they are that the wheel didn't land on them. For those women who are finding out that the wheel doesn't discriminate? We've been there. For those of us who do not yet having a living child, the deeper fear creeps in that we may never know that love.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I miss my children every day, but one thing I know is that I am a better and more sympathetic person because of my losses. This is the gift that my children left me when they took my soul away. I can only hope that for those women who thought they had that cape of invincibility that they become better and more caring people too.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-43323093354881780922011-12-17T13:38:00.000-08:002011-12-17T14:29:58.103-08:00Stupid Comment #8: Baby Loss Only Happens To People Who Do Something Wrong<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnY5qigkbkyD-o-f03dwS1yE7UqLX82Xft27zMkmFs4LQp8ZBg6eMFMOj99JaV65_8IgV3vTxqOjK9TzHY7TBH1dnUFBlDQmBdSS6827eFGxRKcC4OO4N4Z8NUumq_a_iyerco-x5lsM/s1600/busted11.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnY5qigkbkyD-o-f03dwS1yE7UqLX82Xft27zMkmFs4LQp8ZBg6eMFMOj99JaV65_8IgV3vTxqOjK9TzHY7TBH1dnUFBlDQmBdSS6827eFGxRKcC4OO4N4Z8NUumq_a_iyerco-x5lsM/s200/busted11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687228047932908386" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">On a very popular baby and pregnancy site, I pop onto the board from time to time that has women due approximately when I am due. This board is full of baby names, ultrasound results, and questions about symptoms. It is a place where women discuss their hopes and their dreams for their unborn child. It is a place where women compare baby strollers, argue about whether or not to breast feed, and find new friends.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">It is also full of women who post that their dreams have just been shattered. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Some women cannot venture into those threads because they cannot bear reliving their past, or they do not wish to think of all of the bad things that can happen. I go into them because I want to add my sympathetic voice to their sorrow. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Typically these women talk about what happened to them, and they get out their feelings. We have all been there. We have all thought "why did this happen to me"? We have all thought "what did I do wrong"? as well as countless other questions that will never be answered. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">What I read the other day was the following:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"Only women who do something wrong lose their babies, so why did I lose mine?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I have read several other posts with this sentiment, the sentiment that these women come from a family where baby loss doesn't happen, and we, the baby loss mommies, are part of families who lose babies all the time, who do horrible things and deserve to lose our children. It is an "us" versus "them" mindset, and suddenly these women are finding out that they are in the "them" category. What angered me even more is the women who were chiming in with their agreement. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I didn't do a damn thing not straight out of the books for any of my three pregnancy losses. I ate right, I slept on the right side. I exercised well, and I took my prenatals religiously. I didn't drink, I didn't have caffeine. I could go on and on. If there was a chance that it would harm my baby, I didn't do it, despite that I know that small amounts of some things are considered perfectly safe. I still lost my three children. I still buried three children. And I don't know all of my readers, but I can pretty much guarantee that all of you did the same as me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I have a lot of sympathy for any woman who has lost a baby at any stage of pregnancy, or through SIDS, but I will not tolerate women trying to make us feel as if we deserved to lose our children. I will not tolerate women trying to make it seem like there are families who lose babies and ones who just don't deserve to.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">At the end of it all, we are all the same. We are all mothers who have lost our children. We are all mothers who would do anything to have our children back. And we all know better. Baby loss happens to women like Russian roulette. Sometimes, for these women who are sitting there thinking that we have done something to deserve this pain, I sit here waiting for that axe to land on them too.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-43648616265477342842011-12-11T07:04:00.000-08:002011-12-11T09:50:32.617-08:00When You Lose a Baby, Your Next Pregnancy Should Get a Free Pass<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaTo1RNB5nJB6W79CO-pi3kLpt5F4S5pC-vRdSEwGSLUBe8kCOmvZd3VHMXi-_rt2ecqUCxR7kx2iSxdRJXVhDG9ycOrIZpP_3Vb00PVsoqvoDyYCF7jqR0tQItcR4YJqIILJo2a69Nes/s1600/free-pass.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaTo1RNB5nJB6W79CO-pi3kLpt5F4S5pC-vRdSEwGSLUBe8kCOmvZd3VHMXi-_rt2ecqUCxR7kx2iSxdRJXVhDG9ycOrIZpP_3Vb00PVsoqvoDyYCF7jqR0tQItcR4YJqIILJo2a69Nes/s200/free-pass.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684929608013229938" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Losing one pregnancy or baby to SIDS is bad enough. Why must I constantly see my friends, loved ones, and even my husband and I go through multiple losses and heartbreak before they are able to bring a baby home? </span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I think the universe should give any baby loss mommy a free pass on their next pregnancy, provided that they don't fall into the category of doing something so amazingly stupid which caused them to lose it (since I've seen too many stories of women abusing drugs, deciding that being pregnant is the time to take up contact sports, etc. and being surprised when their baby doesn't make it).</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">After all, going through another pregnancy is terrifying in and of itself. For me, having lost two early, the first trimester is a huge hurdle. When will I be told that the baby has stopped growing, or the heartbeat is too slow, or I'm sorry, we can't find a heartbeat. Once that hurdle is gone, then there's the later term loss hurdle to get through. A perfect anatomy scan is wonderful, but my son's was perfect. A stricture in the umbilical cord is impossible to detect except by future growth scans that for a first normal pregnancy no one would get. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Then if you lose again, you feel like your pawn has been knocked off the board game. It's not like the women who are on the Start space, trying to conceive. You're knocked into this "other" realm where you're a child again, watching everyone play a board game and you feel like you don't know the rules and will never be allowed to play, much less to cross the Finish line.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Women who have been through these ups and downs need this free pass. We at least need to know that even though we'll stress through another pregnancy, that things will come out okay. We don't need more stress, and more pain. We need comfort. We need to be able to flash a badge that says "Baby Loss Mommy - Free Pass to a Perfect Rainbow Pregnancy" when things get rough.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">If anyone ever finds one of these, let me know. If I ever do, you can bet that I'll be sharing with all of you.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-76155176912534768602011-12-04T11:47:00.001-08:002011-12-04T11:50:00.527-08:00Annoying Question #1: Is This Your First?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_43LNj2fjJQlrv4RZWMm5CouniHeqbQe2to88LfRsvJStiuWSRtl6jn-p-FmDoAQxYmkbhfpp9r3guAhOeBO2Li16ZEeEPtvMbMH5luCMLMTsq8WGt8R57Vnn7494JKfJ34HXC9PwfNU/s1600/nosy_people_mug-p168781210910401493z89we_400.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_43LNj2fjJQlrv4RZWMm5CouniHeqbQe2to88LfRsvJStiuWSRtl6jn-p-FmDoAQxYmkbhfpp9r3guAhOeBO2Li16ZEeEPtvMbMH5luCMLMTsq8WGt8R57Vnn7494JKfJ34HXC9PwfNU/s200/nosy_people_mug-p168781210910401493z89we_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682362191729005234" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">**Trigger Below**<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">My apologies for my absence, I was hit by the shocking news that I am once again pregnant (that seems to be what happens when I go on vacation and drink alcohol). This is time #4 for me, and no living children thus far. I am about to hit 14 weeks, trimester 2, and I should be ecstatic. But any baby loss mommy knows fear, and knows that nothing will ever be for certain. With this pregnancy, I am on Lovenox, and shooting myself in the belly every night at 10 pm. I have never been officially diagnosed with a clotting disorder, it is only suspected in the loss of one or more of my children. All I have to say is well, it seems to be working thus far.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Since I'm getting farther, and disclosed to a few people (and not many), one of the questions I'm getting is "Is this your first?" This is a tricky question to answer for a baby loss mommy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b><i>If you say "no":</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Be prepared to open yourself to the onslaught of further questioning from "well-meaning" people. It would be nice if people would just nod and move on, but no, you will get further questions such as "How many do you already have?" or "So where IS junior right now?" or "How old are they?" I have answered with "no", and typically follow it up with "and my first was stillborn". At this point, if they know what's good for them they will say "I'm sorry" and move on. Yet this often leads to other comments like "oh I miscarried a baby too". I can say from experience after having a stillborn son and two missed miscarriages that there isn't a comparison. I didn't love those miscarried babies any less, but it's just...different. Just as it is different for a SIDS mommy versus a stillborn child. What saying "no" does give you, is that feeling that you are acknowledging your lost babies, no matter how old they were inside or outside of the womb when you lost them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b><i>If you say "yes":</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Be prepared to open yourself to unwanted and unsolicited advice, and labor horror stories which no one needs to hear, much less a baby loss mommy. You may also feel a pang of guilt for not acknowledging your children. On the other hand, saying "yes" removes you from explaining your losses and history to complete strangers. My husband prefers this method because he is a private person and he doesn't believe that others need to know, and he doesn't like to relive his pain every time someone asks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Whichever method you choose, be comfortable with your choice and be patient and kind to yourself. It is a tough road that baby loss mommies follow, and we are our own worst enemies to ourselves.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">And if someone gets too nosy, no matter which option you chose? Well, there's always the tried and true method of asking them a deeply personal question back such as "So, how's your diet working out for you? Maybe you should try something different?" It at least will get them off of your back, so you can make your escape.</span></div></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-45327015540150629422011-10-11T16:04:00.000-07:002011-11-06T06:56:28.936-08:00Elephants Truly Are More Intelligent Than Humans<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgoDdoUykyI7NX8o8W20hhyzEHUQQKa6T4GwnfrhkhHtQGFIRFuxIJB8Di508dmI01W5fB-Du0JYhJ3fHB1b3nLuPFJJu1aMide69CcY-wDTF7F56FZTmxRfZ-LVR9aHjdpzsYe0azMY/s1600/elephant.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgoDdoUykyI7NX8o8W20hhyzEHUQQKa6T4GwnfrhkhHtQGFIRFuxIJB8Di508dmI01W5fB-Du0JYhJ3fHB1b3nLuPFJJu1aMide69CcY-wDTF7F56FZTmxRfZ-LVR9aHjdpzsYe0azMY/s200/elephant.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671896738857733330" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >It seems like every day I have to listen to a baby loss mommy tell me that someone has told her to "get over her loss" or asked her "are you still grieving?" with the sympathy of a brick. Why do we live in a culture where people are allowed to mourn Elvis almost 25 years after his death, but we are not allowed even a full year before the world wants us to just "get on with things". </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >We will never "move on". We will remember forever.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >There's another animal who is said to remember forever...elephants. I ran across this quote:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>"When a mother elephant loses her baby, they stand in a circle around her and allow her all the time she needs to grieve and mourn. They don't hurry her along, or push her to abandon the body. They stand in a circle and gently touch her with their trunks, a silent show of unwavering support.</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>Elephant mothers will stand with their babies for weeks, not eating or drinking, just holding them close and letting the reality that they are gone slowly settle in. And they are allowed that time by their family members."</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >As I sit here and constantly hear talk about how much smarter humans are than our other animal brethren, I have to disagree. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >In our society, where getting everything done quickly and with a minimum of effort has become a norm, we've forgotten how to be there for each other in the way that we should be. We send a quick card and then we promptly forget each other's pain. How many of us have had someone give us the look of disbelief when we mention our lost one, no matter how many weeks they were when we lost them. "You're still grieving?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Yes, yes I am. </span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-68750341197058455142011-10-02T14:41:00.000-07:002011-10-02T15:03:23.076-07:00Stupid Comment #7: You Just Lost a Baby So I Thought I Should Leave You Alone<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTaQdeFkb1S80fYmFujU2KG4tKeeCXrVTR1C9uTIxkbrUavsQ5QGdDJWPDjQx5bbUjNyF5Tpcp_6q6rHn1iswWoXPfm-qMtwHb69hNA-GR4bMqdPRo0DaRLXnZ3V5BT71XaRIF-GcIe8/s1600/Loneliness-Motivational-Picture.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTaQdeFkb1S80fYmFujU2KG4tKeeCXrVTR1C9uTIxkbrUavsQ5QGdDJWPDjQx5bbUjNyF5Tpcp_6q6rHn1iswWoXPfm-qMtwHb69hNA-GR4bMqdPRo0DaRLXnZ3V5BT71XaRIF-GcIe8/s200/Loneliness-Motivational-Picture.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659018754785814306" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >One of the things I keep hearing when my "friends" and family mysteriously disappear is that since I lost a baby, I obviously want to be left alone. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Uh, what? Why the hell would I want to be left alone?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Losing a baby in and of itself is one of the most isolating experiences a woman can have in her life. After all, it is expected that eventually you will lose your parents, your aunts and uncles, and sadly, maybe your spouse. But the idea of losing a child? No one knows what to do. It just doesn't happen. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">You spend so much of your day looking at every other woman who is pregnant and noticing that every one is coming back from their doctor appointments with a smile and every one of them is buying new clothes and it seems like every one of them gets to keep their baby. You spend time looking at your empty nursery, or at the pregnancy test that you kept with the double line, or at the first maternity shirt you bought and you fall to your knees and you ask "WHY?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What I cannot understand is why, through her toughest moment, through her greatest grief, someone would want to leave this woman alone. Or is it that people are so deathly afraid of being infected by the baby loss virus? Or is it something that displays even more selfishness on the commenter, for hidden behind that comment are the words "You're driving me nuts and you're just not yourself". Or perhaps those people are just too busy to lend a helping hand. Who knows someone who is active on Facebook 100 times a day and yet cannot take a second to pick up the phone and call to check on you?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I must admit, I have not found a snappy answer to this comment yet. I am usually struck dumb by people saying this. I usually want to rail against them for not being there to support me. I usually want to tell them that despite the fact that I look like I want to crawl into my cave and curl into a ball, that I appreciate those friends and family members who have reached into that cave and extended their hand. I especially appreciate those who have kept trying, even when I threaten to bite their hand.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >The more I speak to women the more I've come to realize that I think it is more common NOT to lose a baby. If that's the case, there are no excuses. We must reach out to each other and let each other know that we have lost a baby, or several. We must tell each other that we will hold each other's hands. And for those of us who have come out on the other side, we must go back to those places and let each other know that there IS another side, and it's full of rainbows.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-87516448983783313642011-09-11T07:03:00.001-07:002011-09-11T07:11:52.843-07:00Out of Nowhere Moment #1: Learning About Another Woman's Baby Losses<span class="Apple-style-span" >Over Labor Day weekend I had the opportunity to attend a conference and meet my favorite actress, who I will keep nameless in order to keep her private life private. This actress happens to play a woman in a television show who lost her daughter (insert vampires and scheming evil people here). This happened in season 2 of this show, and I happened to watch right after I lost my son. Watching this woman's struggle with grief and insanity, I felt a kindred spirit, even though it was just a character on TV.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I set out to tell her what a difference her show made to me in helping me through those first couple of months where I was the most vulnerable. It was by watching this show that I learned it was okay to grieve, and it was okay to feel crazy, but I had to keep going, if for nothing else other than people were depending on me and out of sheer determination and stubbornness.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I worried that I wouldn't be able to form complete sentences because I was starstruck. However, I did tell her, and I told her everything. I expected an "I'm sorry", after all, it's what we all hope to hear. And I did hear that, but it was followed by "I had eight miscarriages before my daughter" and the warmest hug I could have ever received. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Watching her as a person is awe inspiring. She manages to produce a show, to act in it, to run a charity, and to be a mother to her one daughter that she fought so hard to have. Something changed in me that day, something healed. And while I still sit here struggling to get pregnant again and find a way to bring home that child, it is a great feat to sit here and be able to smile again. Because when I had my picture taken with her, it's the first time since losing my son that my smile finally reaches my eyes. And I wish that for all of you.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So maybe this post isn't as much angry at others, but anger with myself. It took a much stronger person than I to show me that I CAN keep going, and most importantly, with a smile on my face. </span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-51573274095956255892011-08-28T12:19:00.000-07:002011-08-28T12:41:14.598-07:00Stupid Situation #10: Getting a Second Opinion on Baby Loss<span class="Apple-style-span" >A dear friend who just had her rainbow baby hooked me up with her doctor. The reason? After a bout of tests had been done and nothing had been discovered, my losses have been chalked up to the infernal "bad luck". I was told by my doctor that it would probably be fine next time. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >You know what? Probably isn't good enough. You'd think that the doctor would be sympathetic enough to try anything and everything to help us. Instead, all I was told was to sit on my hands and wait.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So I saw a new doctor. I figured if she said the same thing after running tests, then I would sit back and let luck try a spin again. To my delight, this doctor, after learning my story, was pissed off. She told me that she had seen too many women with my story come into her office with a difficult or not found yet clotting disorder, she had put them on Lovenox injections, and suddenly a rainbow baby. It sounds a bit too good to be true, but seeing her want to get to the bottom of my situation gave me a new lease on hope. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >The other surprising outcome? She thinks my losses are related. She's the first doctor I've spoken to who actually believes me. Until now, my stillbirth and my two miscarriages have been compartmentalized because my son had a perfect 20 week ultrasound. The truth is, at some point all three of my babies stopped growing. Doesn't that seem odd to anyone else? It did to me, and it does to my new doctor.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So I picked up my records at my old doctor and brought them over. They were supposed to have been at the new doctor's office for my appointment, but the medical records department decided that there were too many to fax, so they did nothing. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >And yes, I opened them. And read. And read. And read.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I was told that my son died of a stricture in the umbilical cord. I was not told that my son had a small placenta. I was not told that the placenta had potential clotting activity.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >And I am pissed.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I still have to get past step one of getting pregnant again, but once I do, it's quite clear who I won't be seeing anymore. Much love to my new doctor for being willing to help me, and to my friend who showed me the way. And for the old doctor? Karma's a bitch.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-445092389174509112011-08-19T17:18:00.000-07:002011-08-19T17:26:29.393-07:00Stupid Comment #6: If You're More Careful This Time, You Won't Lose the Baby<span class="Apple-style-span" >It sickens me that I even overheard someone saying this comment. In fact, it was said to a dear friend who miscarried along side of me this past May. The "well-meaning" person actually had the audacity to suggest that those of us who have lost a baby did so because we did something wrong, because we ate the wrong thing, because we exercised too much. Oh, and that we did it on purpose.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Let me remind everyone out there, and I will step into delicate territory for a moment, that there is a difference in the term abortion and miscarriage. Those who wish to get rid of their babies and go to a clinic are quite a bit different than someone who was already dreaming up names for their child when their dream was stolen from them. Most of the women I know were giving up caffeine, and hot showers, and alcohol, and junk food, and half a million other things because they wanted this baby to be healthy and happy. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >People don't seem to realize that getting pregnant after a loss is terrifying. These women who were so careful before are now neurotic in what they will or won't do. They won't cross their legs if that's what they were doing when they lost their angel. These women are terrified, and they will do whatever it takes. I'm pretty sure if you told one to stand on their head every day for an hour, they would do it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Sadly I'm not pregnant again yet, but I had better not hear this one said to my face. Otherwise, I'm going to parrot it back and tell them that they better worry about being careful around me.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-13178609603942024372011-08-04T17:29:00.000-07:002011-08-04T17:53:59.064-07:00Stupid Situation #9: Losing Friends When You Lose a Child<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZPXjOom8BeSkPq2JS8j-hVRz9RNmGkBIn0DDIrpxoYuRhNEVshPlgUmfurZ0p8c1XEgoV6PgrIGcoLchInJfHKrzvPpZvP7lFP171nO5aVgysm4kxrfOaS4DNenBA3GGUcq_MgMq6TA/s1600/img-thing.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZPXjOom8BeSkPq2JS8j-hVRz9RNmGkBIn0DDIrpxoYuRhNEVshPlgUmfurZ0p8c1XEgoV6PgrIGcoLchInJfHKrzvPpZvP7lFP171nO5aVgysm4kxrfOaS4DNenBA3GGUcq_MgMq6TA/s200/img-thing.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637168693066328226" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >What is it about our culture that makes us expect everyone to be happy all the time? If you're grieving for longer than the acceptable grieving period, you are thrust into the category of "a lost cause" by some. Those friends who were very supportive and caring about the loss of your child suddenly grow impatient for things to go back to where they used to be. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >The one thing that our friends forget is that we don't know how to go back to where we used to be.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >When you lose a child, it's like a impenetrable wall slams down behind you, and there is no going back. You might be able to salvage some of who you are, but it's only memories. You are cut off. All you can do is stumble forward, like an adventurer in a new cave who has lost her map, her lantern, and her soul. Hidden in the cave is the "new you". Unfortunately, it's hard to find something if you don't know what it looks like.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >The definition of a friend is someone who is there for you through good or through bad, through happy times and sad times, who supports you and gives you the criticism when you need it the most. In the past year, I have noticed that the friends I had pre-loss now fall into one of the following two categories:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >a) The friend who steps up to the plate. This friend can be a long time friend, but more likely, this is a friend who you didn't realize was that much of a friend. This is a friend that has been there and who calls you and texts you even when you don't want to talk. They keep checking up on you. They let you talk, and they listen, and when you're ranting and raving about the meth head who's allowed to have a child but you've lost yours, they're ranting along with you.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">b) The friend who sends you a card, but then refuses to bring it up, or doesn't call, and certainly doesn't write. It's like your child never existed. This friend is eager for you to move on, to go back to the old you. When you decide to do that, they'll probably be there. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">The sad thing is that many of us thought that those friends who are in category b were our best friends, friends that we have had for years. Yet when I look at my friends in category a I find that I've made a huge mistake. I've discounted those people who have come through for me in the past, yet these are the ones who have been there no matter how much I'm crying or laughing. I am blessed to have these friends.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">As for the ones in category b, as much as it pains me, they need to be cut loose. Having a friendship should not be stressful. It occurred to me the other day that one of them hadn't even said "I'm sorry" when I told her I had lost a third child. Why did I accept this as okay? It's not okay. It's not remotely okay. Friendship is a two-way street. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">I've also learned in the past year, is that I can make new friends, ones who truly understand me. These women I have met in the depths of despair, and we are clinging to each other as we walk through hell. I saw a quote the other day that said "beautiful people are not born, they're made". These new friends of mine have been crafted from pain and sorrow, which breeds sympathy and love. I wouldn't trade these new friends for anything.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">But as for those who haven't been there? I'm not hunting them down. Maybe one day they too will lose a child and they'll finally understand...but no one will be listening.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-22234565784571935932011-07-23T05:51:00.000-07:002011-07-23T06:10:25.795-07:00Stupid Question #2: So Are You Going to Get Tested?<span class="Apple-style-span" >Some people are truly incapable of stopping their conversation with a baby loss mommy at "I'm sorry". Instead, floundering around in a culturally uncomfortable situation, most people must find some way to make it all better. So they resort to questions showing that they care. Since my second loss, one of the most frequently asked questions is "Are you going to get tested?"</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What does a baby loss mommy hear? "What's wrong with you?"<br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >First of all, when this question comes from the mouth of a stranger, I want to let them know it's none of their business. After all, I certainly wouldn't take a look at them and say "hey, you're a bit overweight, maybe you should be tested for diabetes!" Culturally we do not interfere with people's health unless we're a very close friend or family member. Even then, it's not always appreciated. We have free will, and if we want to stuff our mouths with Twinkies and drink or not go in for that mammogram, we have that right. So why is it okay for people to ask this question after losing a baby? If we want to go through testing to find out what's going on, that's our decision. Not the decision of strangers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Second of all, for many cases, there isn't anything wrong. We are at the whim of fate and chance. When my OB let me know that one out of approximately twenty women miscarried twice, I thought wow, that's a lot of women. A large percentage of women go through the stress of additional testing to be told that there is nothing wrong with them, or at least nothing wrong that medical science has been able to determine. Their treatment? Try again. Some women do find that a clotting disorder or progesterone issue has been the cause of their miscarriages, and these can be treated and result in a healthy pregnancy. Again, this is THEIR choice to be tested, however. Not a stranger or a "well-meaning" friend.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Third, this question only chops away at the fragile bit of self-confidence that many of us have or have found. Most of us are already guilt-ridden for the death(s) of our children, no matter if we truly had any part to play. Saying that we need testing, just shows us that if we had done this testing earlier, then we could have saved our children. That we are incompetent and uncaring mothers who didn't care enough to look at these things before we became pregnant or early in pregnancy. It means we failed. I know that all of my readers are of different cultures, religions, and backgrounds, but the one thing I know we all share is that we all would have done anything to save our children, no matter the cost. We do not need that feeling shaken by this idiotic question. We need to remember that we are wonderful mothers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Yesterday I opted to undergo testing for quite a few common causes of recurrent miscarriage. I gave up sixteen vials of my blood. A large part of me fears that they will find something and that will make me less than perfect. A large part of me fears that they won't find something and that will mean it's completely up to chance. Luckily, it's not in my control. In a couple of weeks I will have some answers, or perhaps nothing more than "try again". </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > In the meantime, I'd like to tell the "well-meaning" people who want to butt into my life by trying to replace the advice of my doctor, that unless you have a medical degree? Back off. Or I'm going to start asking you some uncomfortable questions about that birthmark on your face. Or about what you eat. Or about your bathroom habits. And you can only imagine how uncomfortable you would be in return.</span></div></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-79264367949569171732011-07-17T12:43:00.000-07:002011-07-19T15:49:41.541-07:00Stupid Situation #8: Stop Patiently Waiting<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2B4w6BdLGiTAvFOxv0X8ICSTL3fgUQq9fummvlZPLV2rrrcNDPOUWscPiZRZ5E73f_0n_C04j5MdpVC87xSJz3BaO9GJhUr9ajaWT2Q8zS0sKKrmKOsX4n1v3FCzACN7K9KCSP0jFus/s1600/450px-hourglass_drawing.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2B4w6BdLGiTAvFOxv0X8ICSTL3fgUQq9fummvlZPLV2rrrcNDPOUWscPiZRZ5E73f_0n_C04j5MdpVC87xSJz3BaO9GJhUr9ajaWT2Q8zS0sKKrmKOsX4n1v3FCzACN7K9KCSP0jFus/s200/450px-hourglass_drawing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630413563284950818" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span">It is commonly said that we fear those animals that have traits that are lacking in ourselves. I became embroiled in a conversation about the praying mantis the other day, and how I had a long, terrifying drive home a little over a year ago with one of these insects clinging for dear life on my windshield (of course right in front of where I had to look). My husband assured me that it would "just blow off", but no, that little bastard stuck on the windshield for that entire fifteen minute drive home. Then I happened to spy one at the cemetery many months ago, and it flew right past me.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It struck me...what trait do praying mantises have the most of? Patience. They can wait for an unfathomable amount of time for prey, or to do much of anything. Me? Not so much. When I teach, I have all the patience in the world. For everything else? Get out of my way.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Those of us who have lost a child, have not only had a child stolen from us, but time. It takes time to get our cycles back to normal. It takes time to wait for that ovulation time. It takes time to wait to pee on a stick. And if we're lucky, it takes time to go through that pregnancy where hopefully, we will finally take one home with us.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Waiting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">More waiting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">And more waiting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I hate waiting. But one of the things I'm starting to realize, is that I have no choice. The other day while using a ferning microscope (to see if I was about to ovluate) and was heartbroken to see no ferning pattern yet. Later on, I looked in the little microscope again to see that perfect ferning pattern. All I needed to do was be patient, and wait.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But for those people who say "just be patient and it will happen", they're not correct either. It's not going to happen being patient, and screw being patient while we're waiting. What I propose we do need to do, however, is embrace that river of life going on around us. I know I've been sitting on the banks, twitching, afraid to step in the river, yet afraid to sit still. Not only am I feeling myself getting older, but I'm purposely putting myself in a position where a year is going to go by, and I will have absolutely nothing to show for it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So I'd still like to tell those people who said "just wait, and it will happen" to shove off. If we have to wait, let's not be patient about it, let's embrace those dreams and passions we have, and carry the love of our children with us. I've already scheduled an appointment to dye my hair dark (as I'm blonde), and scheduled a crazy six day vacation somewhere that I never thought I'd be going just to be able to meet Amanda Tapping who I admire for her own strength and perseverance, and I'm going to write and work to get my book published like my life depended on it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I don't have to be patient. But in the meantime, I do have to live. And when that BFP arrives, I'll just smile and keep on. And wait. But not patiently.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-78914425944464134672011-07-03T08:05:00.000-07:002011-07-03T08:27:06.501-07:00Stupid Situation #7: Teaching Your Child to Run...at the Street<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_vA26c9_ZDxpSkPxxwkC7CDY4SY2AKLcgd9JUNcHiHwtPKtmo1AVhj6sqIM_ubwedWRXPpYmBJLPNSOwGrAC4bLi-IMC5zg718LdIJbDEpC7HGVtGTTkRXKTceQHz1M5KfF-9G-siqM/s1600/School-Safety-Signs-43147-ba.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_vA26c9_ZDxpSkPxxwkC7CDY4SY2AKLcgd9JUNcHiHwtPKtmo1AVhj6sqIM_ubwedWRXPpYmBJLPNSOwGrAC4bLi-IMC5zg718LdIJbDEpC7HGVtGTTkRXKTceQHz1M5KfF-9G-siqM/s200/School-Safety-Signs-43147-ba.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625147950259604738" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >One of my neighbors, the proud owners of a newborn that they just magically had during the month they wanted to and have never had loss etc. - that kind of neighbor, has just put up a new sign. It's fluorescent yellow, shaped like a gingerbread man and says "Attention: Children at Play". This isn't for a school, or a park. It's for their yard.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >First of all, I'd like to point out that unless their 3 month old has developed the ability to walk, it should say CHILD at play. But that's just being petty, so I'll move on to point two.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Second, they chose not to anchor it and to put it on a hill, so every two to three days, it falls over and they leave it down for a couple of days before righting it again. After two weeks of this, they finally put a rock on it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Third, it's an eyesore since it's right out my window.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >But let's talk about the most important piece. Their child who is running around is not vision or hearing impaired. She's a willful three year old that they have taught to run at the road. All summer and fall last year, while I grieved the loss of my stillborn son, I watched them put her down, and she would run at the road to see the little boy on the other side. Her father would run after her, pick her up and with a silly little laugh, put her down again.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >He taught her that running at the road is a game, and now they put up a sign because of their crappy parenting skills.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm not professing that I will be the perfect parent, but where I refuse to fail, is in teaching my child self-preservation skills. They worked so hard (not really) to have this child, and now they are teaching her the daredevil traits, the ones that will make this child live for adventure...dangerous adventure. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >So let me tell the parents out there - if you love your child, and you want to keep your child, step up the training of teaching your child that cars and streets are dangerous. It's one of the first lessons in danger that a child should receive. Make sure they get an "A", for I sit here watching your child and wanting one more than life itself, as you teach your child to be reckless. Because I keep wondering if someday soon these parents are going to finally understand my pain...the pain of losing a child.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-56929757874164433092011-06-29T17:13:00.000-07:002011-06-29T17:26:18.193-07:00Celebrate July 4th with a Vengeance!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxKrgJIZT42-_CcQwN2ZQBML8OQKFVlS_eXyckWEqhSbwigSLFEvcvyExa5ZJp0AfXeW1CpIJHmP42_INZH_bEpU6jyIEXR12C_W6X97GMje3C3vfcCx8MnMBltmhz7QsvLuNPRdgeVw/s1600/fireworks.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxKrgJIZT42-_CcQwN2ZQBML8OQKFVlS_eXyckWEqhSbwigSLFEvcvyExa5ZJp0AfXeW1CpIJHmP42_INZH_bEpU6jyIEXR12C_W6X97GMje3C3vfcCx8MnMBltmhz7QsvLuNPRdgeVw/s200/fireworks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623802524546086626" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >July 4th last year came just a little under a month after I lost my son. I certainly wasn't in the mood to celebrate, much less to hear all of the kids running around with their parents. I didn't want to be told about the picnic where so-and-so announced they were pregnant. I just wanted to be left alone, and prayed that my house wouldn't burn down from the idiots who were allowed to play with explosives.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >This year, I have a different view of things. I've lost two more children, and my grief is still strong. However, I'm starting to realize that until I'm graced with that baby that my husband and I want so badly, I'm going to enjoy every second of rubbing in my non-parenthood to those who just had babies.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >With very very loud fireworks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm talking about those window rattlers, the ones that don't make any pretty colors, the ones that set off car alarms. Completely legal, and unabashedly loud. I'm sure you've sat in your house at some point or the other and thought why do people bother with those?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Here's a good reason. Let's celebrate our own lost angel's short lives, and their freedom, wherever they have gone. Let's celebrate our ability to have known these children of ours for as little or as long as we did. Let's celebrate our love for our spouses, who helped us bring those children into our lives. Let's celebrate with a very loud *BANG!* every hour.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >And then let's secretly giggle as we watch those parents who have been parading their babies and making insensitive comments go running. It's a small bit of celebratory vengeance. Now I just need to find earmuffs for my dog...</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-62803020576534185802011-06-25T05:52:00.000-07:002011-06-25T06:09:22.943-07:00Stupid Comment #5: The Worst Sound in the World is Children Whining<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1gLD5KOD9NK-l-pFrll1GSmFFt3c5noDbYWetRVqrvX-rOIg45hyphenhyphenul3XXqOg626rQvC74tAOH-rFFD9eM-bLZjXRVWwlF0R9QfQXIIos00Bf7MzSMkECPDLkERX2eqNaU1MpvitHD3U/s1600/no-whining.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1gLD5KOD9NK-l-pFrll1GSmFFt3c5noDbYWetRVqrvX-rOIg45hyphenhyphenul3XXqOg626rQvC74tAOH-rFFD9eM-bLZjXRVWwlF0R9QfQXIIos00Bf7MzSMkECPDLkERX2eqNaU1MpvitHD3U/s200/no-whining.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622143641658339234" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span">Apparently an earth shattering study has recently been done to detect the worst sounds to a human's ear. Number one on the list?</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Whining. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It wasn't enough that this study was conducted, and that was the result, but several of my coworkers took up the conversation to make sure that everyone understood that it wasn't whining in general, but it was children whining. I was then privy to the age old comments of parents "I just can't stand it" and "He/she just won't shut up". (This was at the time that I was thinking, "And neither will you!")</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I have an answer for the people of the world who are afraid of having to deal with this horrible noise, of having to put up with it day in and day out:<b> </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><u>Don't have children!</u></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">In the meantime, stop subjecting me to your own whining. I would love nothing more than to listen to my children whining about having to go to bed early, or not getting their Pokemon toy at McDonald's. Poor you. To me, and to the women and men who have had to experience baby loss, it's the best sound in the world. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I'm also looking forward to the second worse sound in the world coming from my house some day: infant crying. I'm sure I'll get to hear my coworkers complaining about that one soon too.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I've decided that I'm going to make badges with a giant bright red "<b><span class="Apple-style-span">W</span></b>" and hand them out for "<b><span class="Apple-style-span">Whiner</span></b>". People can wear them like Hester in The Scarlet Letter. Then at least I would be able to tell which ones had been through what I've been through, and which ones seem to take their children entirely too much for granted.</span></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8694213533521368188.post-5389851017679632982011-06-20T16:08:00.000-07:002011-06-20T16:34:29.625-07:00Stupid Situation #6: Talking About Your Loss at Work<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQYxj1R61sBg9-iNpKlw9V3CrG0CLoN04Ajkn-kiqQX5Esdm_SY2TN5WEuNKf1T4keORFe-Z2NRSwKpK21j1OMtVVn497B0EjN1VcAIjQkhrjrb1M9t3oTbCwiYGb92DKIBl4DlR4k3I/s1600/no-talking.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQYxj1R61sBg9-iNpKlw9V3CrG0CLoN04Ajkn-kiqQX5Esdm_SY2TN5WEuNKf1T4keORFe-Z2NRSwKpK21j1OMtVVn497B0EjN1VcAIjQkhrjrb1M9t3oTbCwiYGb92DKIBl4DlR4k3I/s200/no-talking.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620449097718872738" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span">Sorry in advance, but this one is going to be a bit long!<br /></span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I have learned some very important things in the past year. Apparently there have been revisions to the amendment that grants us our freedom of speech, especially in the workplace. Typically employers look the other way at non-work related conversations outside of breaks or lunch (unless you work in the equivalent of a sweat shop). However, what I didn't know is that there are some rules about what is "appropriate non-work related conversations while working" and what is (insert horror movie music here).</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">A month after I returned to work after losing my son, I was taken into a room by my boss, my boss's boss, and an HR Representative, where I was told that I was making people uncomfortable by talking about my child. I was told that these people felt like they couldn't put pictures of their children in their cubicles. I was told that they felt like they couldn't talk to me about their happy times, like the births of their children. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">At the time I burst into tears. Now, the anger rides over me when I think about it. What bereaved mother wants to hear even a portion of that? I know that all of us have our own way of coping, and how long it takes for us to be able to tolerate seeing pregnant women and babies, or to just hear talk about it in general, but I'm pretty certain that none of us wanted that thrust in our face during our first month back to work!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">This friendly "well-meaning" HR Representative proceeded to tell me that my company had some "help" options for me, and she handed me a brochure which also included names of day cares and a giant picture of a baby on the front.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I was told to just tell people "I was having a bad day" instead of talking about it. I was told that I could only have these conversations at breaks or lunches and quietly. I argued back that it meant that these other people then had to only talk about their "good times" during breaks and lunches and was told, "That's not what we meant." Sure it is. And I wrote it down, every word they said, if I ever need to use it again, that's after I cried for two straight days.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It's taken me almost a year to cool off from that incident. And here I sit, three weeks after my second miscarriage after my stillbirth and my boss brings it up again that someone complained that me talking about my miscarriage was making them uncomfortable. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I'm not even the teeniest bit sorry. They have a moment of uncomfortableness, and I have a lifetime of it. The other thing that grates on me is the junior high attitude of a grown man or woman going to the HR Department to complain. I wish there were "Whiner" badges to hand out to people. Or to staple to their forehead.</span></div><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So here is what I've been able to figure out about appropriate conversations</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">As generated by my current employer, acceptable non-work related conversations during working hours include:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Sports</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">This includes who won what game, what teams are playing, fantasy football/gambling, how many children are playing for what recreational teams and how many home runs they got and how you are training your three year old to be the next Venus Williams), and how many beers you had while golfing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Celebrations</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">This includes marriages, births, birthday party planning for your one year old where you talk in detail about his/her accomplishments, successful doctor appointments for your newborn where you give great detail about his/her growth percentile or that his/her stool has changed for the better, announcements of pregnancies and every week that you have made it through so far, and how little Johnny lost his first tooth.</span></div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Food</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">This includes recipes, restaurants, picnic planning, and how little Johnny is breastfeeding still, and topics about stopping breastfeeding and moving to solid food.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Death</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">This includes mourning your grandparents, your parents, your siblings, your friends, and your pets.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The list goes on and on. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">Unacceptable topics include:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Baby Loss</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">This includes miscarriages, blighted ovums, chemical pregnancies, stillbirths, burials for your child, memorials for your child, or the surgery that you were forced to have when your child died.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">And that's it. The list is remarkably shorter, isn't it?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I just hope that none of you have to deal with an employer that fails to try to understand a baby loss mommy's grief, and instead who spends a lot of time making sure that everything is getting done and making you feel bad if you are perhaps working a little slower than normal.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">If you do, then my heart is with you, and feel free to rant away.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div></div></div>Tisihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17395858818871600380noreply@blogger.com4