Nine Months and still Counting

24

Here we are...again. 

Three years later.

All day I thought about him, all day I planned to write this post and share my thoughts. And of course by 14 minutes I miss it. 

My day was spent thinking about him. I woke up, thought of him, grabbed her out of bed, thought of him, fed her breakfast, thought of him etc etc etc. I talked to her about him for the first time today. I haven't really mentioned him because she wouldn't have understood, might not understand still. But that's ok, today was the first birthday she would be around for and today was a big deal. 

I wasn't sad throughout the day, until later tonight. It seems that all the worries of the world, the depression and the deep utter sadness of him being gone hits me later at night when I get to sit still and just feel the quiet of the day. Exhausted from running around, chasing my living baby, getting ready for the anniversary of my dead baby and in one moment. I hurt. It hits me. And the pain, the tears that well in my eyes, the tightness in my throat I always feel it all at once. I didn't cry, I haven't cried in a long time. I think it's because I'm now used to living in this constant state of loss, and you just stop feeling it. You just live and breathe as if he would have as if he should have and then randomly you remember. You become conscience of his loss and of course the what ifs.

This year I have been blessed with the greatest gift, his sister. And I firmly believe that he was completely apart of it. After Spencer passed I wanted a baby and I wanted one right now. But J wanted to take things slowly and get married and follow the natural path without a rush. My first thought "I'm not going to have a baby until 2011, how will I handle 2 years??!!" Sure enough when I was losing hope (even though I shouldn't have) I was pregnant with her! He knew I needed her, he knew it was time, he knew my grief and my suffering needed to end. And so the gift of her cane from him. 

Today I can't give him that gift in return. I can't shower him with fun, and cake and presents and watch him bask in all his 3 year old glory. I can't give him that. Because he died. And again I will forever have to think of him in that way, remember him so painfully. 

What I can say is that today was a good day. Today wasn't so so sad it was just a little sad. Ironically I woke up at 2:30 just 20 miniutes or so after he was born. I was jarred awake by a dream, not of him, but one of importance.....that I can't remember. 

It rained as we arrived at his grave side. Something it's never done, which of course stressed me out. All day was about getting ready for tonight. I shopped for hot dogs,snacks and balloons for our tradiional family BBQ, I packed for it, got Scarlett ready for it and then BAM not happening cause it rained. So we all stood there in the rain talking amoungst eachother. Looking over at his grave and remembering why we were there but saying very little about it.....about him. I took my baby girl and placed her next to his gave, stood her against his head stone and took pictures..........

That's messed up......in fact that's fucked up. Then we had a "family" picture. I smiled perfectly tried to get the baby to smile and my husband looked pretty cute too. I couldn't help but think this was the most tragic family photo I've ever been apart of. And it was my life. Even posting the picture on Facebook where it says "caption" I froze trying to think of a clever caption....and all I came up with was "Family picture......" so clever. 

Regardless today I would have a 3 year old boy, bouncing, screaming, talking back, learning, laughing and teaching his sister all the wonders of his 3 year old world. But I don't and that is sad and frustrating and heart breaking, but it's my life. It's other mom's lives and it happens every day. It's happens so much that I actually met another mom, I met her! It wasn't Sally, but it was another baby loss mom that fell into my lap and I had to talk to her. I'll write more about her in another post, but my dream....it happened, not ver ba-tum but it happened. 

Anyway today was my boys day.A day for him and he got some balloons sent up his was with a big fat 3 on them. Just for my amazing little man that touched me to the core three years ago and still does every single day of my life. I hope today my son had a smile on his face, joy in his life and love all around him. Because that is what every 3 year old little boy deserves on his birthday. 

I love you Spencer Arthur, you've taught me more than you will ever truly know. Happy Birthday Baby xoxoxo

9 months and still counting

We recently went to Cabo for a family trip and had some family shots done. Scarlett was 9 months old in these pictures

I feel done.....

As we fast approach Scarlett's first birthday the question is when do we try for another?

For quite sometime we've been discussing the options, timing, future plans and current situation. Initially I figured after her first birthday it would be baby making time yet again. But right now things are different. 

I don't feel like I used to, and I'm definitely not ready to be pregnant again. Scarlett is still not sleeping through the night. She never really has, and despite many efforts I can't find the right remedy to make her do that. So I'm exhausted, Jason is exhausted and we are far to busy with the child we have to even entertain the idea of wanting another one. 

These feeling have honestly caught me off guard. I've always wanted a big family I think we talked about 4 at one point and simply typing that number instills fear deep within me! I can honestly say that right now I'm ok with one! I was trying to figure myself out the other day, wondering what was it that made me feel this way. Why don't I want to have another baby, why don't I want to grow my family it can't just be because I'm tired....can it?

And then it hit me.....I feel like I should be done already. I feel like I've had my two babies and now I'm ready to focus on me, raise two healthy kids to be responsible adults and live life. I was pregnant and gave birth twice, so I'm done. But I don't have the first baby so naturally everyone expects for me to want to have another. We tried so hard to have Scarlett.....well not to hard...but...never mind ;) We were in a hurry to have her, it was a huge need a huge want and the enormity of those desires overwhelmed me at times. I would bawl my eyes out every time I heard another friend was pregnant. I needed to be pregnant again and I wasn't going to relax until I was. But this time.......I'm not even worried about it. I think more about not wanting to have another baby than I do about wanting one...

To me that seems nuts considering my original family plans. And then I remind myself that she's only going to be 10 months old. Some people wait two, three even four and five years before they have another baby. AND THEN I think "Do I really want to wait that long, get used to sleep and energy and calm and then BAM take it all away from myself with another baby to suck the life out of me again?" Interesting these thoughts of mine. But I think it all comes down to feeling like I'm done, or I should be at least and realizing yet again that I've lost him. That life is not as it should be. 

So much more was taken from us the day that he died. Plans, hopes, dreams, desires and paths. All torn up, tossed to the ground and destroyed. Everything was changed and I'm finding it hard even now to adjust to those changes. It's interesting how such a tragedy can effect you even almost 3 years later. Just when you think you have a grip in being a baby loss mom and that you can actually function in life without wanting to die, it hits you. Again that familiar slap in the face. The daunting sting that reminds you that you lost your baby, and just when you feel like your life is ready to take a new path of growth and change you realize you are still not quite there. That some time was stolen from you and you are still playing catch up......one reality check at a time. 

So as it stands today we aren't not planning on having another baby until at least August of next year. There are weddings I want to attend, trips with our little family I want to take and time for me to catch up on some sleep. I think I'll know when I'm ready, I think that desire will return and my need for a wee baby will return. But right now I'm not ready, Jason is not ready and I think we are both totally ok with that. We should be done, but we aren't so we will give it some time. We will enjoy her, love her, spoil and teach her. Because that's what she deserves and right now that's all I can give. 

I had a dream

When it happened I wanted to write about it. It was powerful, emotional and it was real. 

I don't dream of Spencer......in fact I'm not sure I ever have....I don't know why and it's really not something I can control and I know that. 

This dream wasn't about him though. I think it was a combination of reading Sally's Blog, thinking of him and knowing I'm.Not.Alone. Now I'm not certain that the woman in my dream was in fact Miss Sally, during the dream there was no obvious indication that it was her. I remember thinking one day as I was looking at pictures of her sweet kids on facebook, "I sure wish I could meet her one day". The reality is that we live worlds away I'm in Canada she's in Australia, and I'm not sure it would ever happen. But if it did I know it would probably play out like this. 

I was sitting at a large table with a group of people. Everyone was talking and as I scanned the room I caught the words of a woman. She was talking about a loss, a loss I could relate to. I sat back almost shocked that her story was so similar to mine and I listened to her pain as I felt my own. As she continued to tell her story I had to stop her it was all to real and I NEEDED her to know that I too knew exactly how she felt. 

I looked at her and said "that happened to me too, I lost my son". She stood up walked over to me and we just hugged and cried. The tears fell down my face so uncontrollably that I could literally feel those painful moments again, crying on the bed room floor of a silent house with no baby, no one around to hear my painful screams. I felt it and in her arms I could let it all out like it was ok. Like no matter how hard I cried when I stopped I was going to be ok. And I let her cry too, I felt her pain and for the first time since Spencer died in my dream it felt like someone actually understood me. I felt like I could finally cry the way that I have needed to cry for 3 years now. I felt like I wasn't being judged, like all the tears I've hoarded deep inside could come out and it was ok. She knew why, she felt what I was feeling and I was finally connecting with someone like me. 

Crying in that woman's arms was the most freeing moment. I felt relief, peace, calm and acceptance. No one on this planet knows my pain like a mom that has gone through the same torture of delivering her still born child. Not a single person in my life right now can tell me she knows how I feel. I don't have that connection in real life, I don't have that person that I can go talk to, cry to, blubber and snot to. I just don't have it and for a few moments in that dream I did have it. I had her in my real life comforting me knowing exactly how intense that pain is.

I woke up crying, feeling as if it all just actually happened. Feeling a small sense of relief knowing that if that day came that I would find that comfort in her.....I firmly believe that it was Sally, that it will only ever be Sally that knows enough to just hold me, cry with me and talk to me about our loss. She has that face, that comforting glow of warmth, experience, love and kindness. 

Sally, 

I don't need to say much, I know that you know. I can only hope that the moment in my dream will one day happen. I can only hope that you know how much you have impacted not only my life, but other women's lives through your loss of Hope and your journey since. So thank you for being you, sharing you and giving us HOPE a world away.

I had a dream and it was one I'll never forget.

I am not alone

I've been repeating that to myself quite a bit these last few days. 

Despite my feelings of utter isolation I have to keep reminding myself that I am not the only momma this has happened to. We each have our own stories of loss, different yet so similar it's heart wrenching. We all have our paths that led us to the birth of our child the loss weather it be before during or after we've brought them into this world. Every step, every inch of time that brought us to those moments is something we will never forget. 

At times the memories sit quietly in the back of our minds and leave us alone for a few days maybe even weeks. And then something stirs them up, they come rushing back and a single tear falls from your face. Recently it was hoarders......(don't judge) some 20 years prior they had lost their son at 4 months old to a heart defect. They sat there and explained how they never properly grieved his loss, how they stopped communicating and just got lost in their pain. Consequently their home was a mess their lives shattered and their oldest son lost in the pile of garbage overwhelming their home. And I cried. 

Tonight Carly Marie posted about a mom that died during child birth. As I scrolled the comments I noticed that tell tale picture of a sweet pale faced baby boy with the perfect purple lips. I clicked on his mamma's profile and watched a video of his birth. They had a photographer to capture their home birth and un-knowingly his death. I watched the beautiful video of his father holding him close. I seen the vacant expression of disbilef of his mom as she held his little body trying despretly to remember each inch of his face before he was taken away from her. I watched it and I cried.

I understand that death is a part of life. Having attended several funerals in the past few months and one more coming soon I realize that it happens. After the pain comes more life and you move on and just live. It's not the life it was before you lost that loved one but it's life and you learn to just be. But that doesn't mean it's ok or that it's acceptable. I will never understand why babies have to die. Why mothers have to hold their lifeless bodies and hope that they will just wake up and take a breath. I've mentioned it before but I would sit there holding Spencer and stairing at his chest thinking I had seen it move waiting for it to move again. I was convinced at least a dozen times that he was breathing. But he just wasn't. Thinking of that makes me cry. 

My baby is gone, my beautiful boy that should be here is gone and I can't explain how much it still hurts even if I don't show it. Each day that I've got with her reminds me that he should be here. Each smile she gives me makes me wonder what he would have looked like when he smiled. When I pick her up in the morning she clings to my neck with her little hands so hard I just want to freeze that moment and soak it all in. When she crawls up to me and grabs my pant leg while I'm washing dishes looking up despretly to be picked up I just want to scoop her up and give her the comfort that she needs. I just want to scoop him up and hold him again.

I am not alone, this much I know and for that I am forever sorry for. 

If you have a blog you'd like to share with me leave me the link and I'll read your story knowing full well that you also know how I feel. 

Her

5 Months old

6 Months old

7 Months old

Ramblings

Nearly every day I think of a post I'd like to make. Then I think about how little I post and that I should do it more often.....then I get busy. The baby will cry, laundry might need to get folded or the dog will want out and the post leaves me and I forget. 

I wish I had a lap top so I could just pull it up make a quick post of what's on my mind and move on. I know that I have readers......even ones I've never met. I know because my blog over view tells me so. One day I had 47 visits....... I know I've got at least two people in my real life that read, 2 or three I've "met" through the blog world so that leaves 42 people reading my blog that I just don't know about. I often wonder who you are and how you even managed to find this blog. A blog so infrequently utilized, one with little depth or insight.....at least in my opinion. 

I hope that who ever you are reading this mumbo jumbo that you've come here simply because we have something in common. And despite the probably really shitty reason for you finding it that I'm in some way helping you through your pain. Blogs helped me when I needed it. They helped me realize that I wasn't the only one and then that even though I felt crazy I was pretty normal.......for someone so fucked up.

I've been living life. A busy life, and to be honest I never actually thought being a stay at home mom was so much work......I'm busier now than I was when I had a full time job and a social life. And I don't even get out of my grubbies most of the time. To be honest I prefer my grubbies.....I hate putting on make up and getting ready.....it just takes so long.......and I'm lazy like that. So naturally my life is spent in sweats and a tank top, probably a sweater if it's cold out. I even have my "good" sweats. It amazes me that my husband even flirts with me still never mind thinks I'm pretty because half the time I look like a bum....in good sweats ;)

Spencer has been on my mind a lot, and it's mostly been because of how life just goes on. And how it's almost like he was never here. Our life is as it is without him and that pisses me off. It's still a what if and I wonder what- type of thought but it amazes me how things just keep moving. And then, like this morning this song plays on my Ipod 11 Godspeed (Sweet Dreams) while I'm feeding the princess who is seemingly hungry RIGHT THE F NOW! 

As I'm about to shovel apple into her mouth I stop.......I wonder if I should get up and turn it off, move to the next song so I don't have to hear "his song" but I stay still and listen. Then at the top of her lungs my demanding daughter reminds me that I'm feeding her and shes HUNGRY RIGHT NOW! So I leave it and wait for the lump in my throat to clear and then begin to explain to her that this was her brothers song. Her brother, the one she will never know. The older brother that she's out lived. It makes me sick to think that she will never know him. He will never be here to protect her, beat the crap out of her, pick her up when she falls and roll around on the floor with her. How truly messed up is that? A brother you never know, an image or a story that your mom tells you about. Someone that existed before you, but doesn't now. 

I try to talk to her about him, not as often as I probably should because really she doesn't get it. She's been to his grave once....the one time I posted about it and I haven't gone back since. I don't go enough, and I don't go because I hate going. I feel like he's not there, I feel like it's just a spot........I feel like he should be at home with us in his beautiful urn close by but instead he's in a spot, in the ground so people can go visit him........Although I know they visit him as often as I do so that just pisses me off even more. One piece of advice- Never make a decision at the time of your child's death to please other people. Don't do it even if you think it will keep the peace or that it's the acceptable thing to do because other people want you to do it. Make the choices for you and your spouse, do what feels right, what matters to you and ONLY you. Because the last thing you want to do is regret making the one parental decision for your child based on what other people thought was right. 

I wish with all my wishes that he was here, that the room I'm sitting in was his room full of toys and boy things. I wish I knew what he looked like now and how different and grown up he would be. I wish Christmas was more exciting because he would have gotten it. I just wish my boy had lived so he could be here with his family. Happy, growing and proud of his little sister. Because that is what's supposed to happen when you start having a family .Not death and sadness and the forever grief that runs up and slaps you in the face while you are feeding your living baby.

I didn't choose this life, I'm grateful for what I have and for who surrounds me with their love, but I miss my kid. And the worst part is........I don't even know what to miss about him because we never really got to meet..........

Big fake

A few weeks ago we went on our annual Vegas trip. It was the fist time we left Scarlett for more than a few hours never mind over night or days. In the beginning I enjoyed myself then I felt guilty then I was concerned my milk was drying up and I had taken away that connection just her and I had so I could do it up in Vegas. Despite my love for that amazing place it was a different trip a different feeling. Sure we had fun, but it wasn't the Vegas we both know and love.....at least not this time anyway. 

Keeping with tradition we went to the Palms Casino...first to get a tattoo...but they had closed up shop so next was the card reader. I'm pretty sure it was the same lady. The one the told us about Spencer and how we'd be pregnant within 6 months, then about Scarlett. This time she focused on my career and my creativity. She suggested I stop holding myself back and give myself a bit more credit for the work that I do. She told me money wasn't an issue and if I kept at it I would be quite successful with my photography.

She talked about Jason and how he's incredibaly patient with me. Despite who I am he still gets me with perfect understanding and amazing patience. He sees past my wall and loves me for who I am.

Then she touched on my appearance, how I always want to look my best. I guess she didn't see the 80% of my life living in sweat pants and a pony tail.....but I didn't interrupt. She said I like to have people believe that my life is good, that despite things being a bit hard I still answer with "I'm going good can't really complain actually" I never want people to feel bad for me or to burden them with my troubles so in short I fake it. She suggested that sometimes it's ok to tell them I'm not ok, it's ok to lean on someone else and let down the brick wall.

I sat there saying very little nodding and smiling and thinking. I'm still amazed how this woman can see what she see's even without me saying a word. In that moment I wanted to cry....I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, I wanted to share my sorrows and stress's with her, because she made me feel like it was ok to do. Now don't get me wrong there are people in my life that would never make me feel guilty or bad for my feelings, they wouldn't judge me or gossip to others if I shared my secrets. Yet here I sit silent in my pains, shielding my woes and keeping up appearances.

I've come to understand that life isn't often kind, sure there are moments and times when it's amazing and wonderful and those are instances that I cherish deeply. But most of the time, life is cruel, daunting, stressful, painful and beyond frustrating. I still wonder how this could happen to me? How could losing my baby happen to me, how could being slapped in the face over and over again KEEP fucken happening to me? Nothing seems easy, nothing comes without some sort of consequence or sacrifice. And really I wish someone would have told me that at 15, 16, 17 and 20 because maybe just maybe I would have stopped wanting to grow up and have all the things I have now. Maybe I would have just enjoyed being a teenager. I regret that part of my life, the part where I was never happy with the life I had when I was worry free.

I say that and then I feel guilty for not loving where I am now. I feel bad for not being able to see the happiness in my life because I can't see past the stress and worry and constant non stop demand of the every day. Despite that I'm thankful for the baby that I've got, my dream baby. She's pretty awesome. My issue isn't with her because I can read her like a book and every response I give her she's satisfied with. There haven't been sleepless nights while she screams and screams, colic wasn't an issue, she fusses when she's hungry or tired. Happy most of the time and funny as hell. We lucked out with this one, in fact I'm worried to have another in case that baby shatters my fairy tail ideas of babyhood.

My husband is.....he's great let me first say. Patient, kind wonderful. But right now he's driving me mad. And it's nothing that he's intentionally doing, he's not mean to me or pushing buttons I just think that he is. I silently curse his name because of a towel on the floor OR this is a good one- he bought to much lettuce.......Yes I was rip roarin mad when I tried to make a sandwich today and pulled out not one but two large heads of lettuce slowly shriveling away because there is now way we will eat that much lettuce before it gets nasty. So I was pissed, and annoyed with him. Makes sense right?........right? I don't know how to talk to him about things because due to his own stress he's taking everything personal so then feelings get hurt I stomp upstairs he goes down and that's that. My communication sucks and one of my largest fears is that I'll take to long to get over my big head and open up like an adult should and my husband will up and leave me. Years of trying to communicate and he'll be fed up leave my stubborn ass and I'll be alone. All because I can't talk to him. Maybe I should blog to him.......

I'm admittedly in a rut, a big fat ass rut that looks quite high, heads straight up on a 90 degree angle and I've got nothing but my hands to help get me out of it. Some days I sit in my rut refusing to even try to get out, others my hands bleed from my attempts. But still even to this day I tell an old class mate "I'm good actually everything is pretty amazing these days" NOT.

I wonder if I'll forever seek that happy perfect life. I wonder if I'll always be in a rut because I can't accept the good in the now. And I wonder if it's something I deserve. Or maybe there is some sort of lesson I'm supposed to be learning but because I'm such a frigged stick in the mud I can't get over my own damn self to learn that lesson. It's frustrating, maddening and I have no patience for myself right now. I imagine it'll be the same tomorrow and the next until I some how dig out lay down and die from exhaustion.

So to summarize I'm a faker. I have the nice house (we got it by the way...barely but we got it) I've got a great husband, beautiful daughter, two dogs one big one small and we all look pretty cute on the outside. Dream life, the one I always wanted. The one I cried about listening to Boys to Men after being dumped for the 10th time thinking I'll never have. Pfftt it's over rated. It's hard work, stressful and exhausting and there is never enough time or energy to sit down and actually enjoy it. So instead I put my energy into faking it.

My name is Jen and I'm a big fake.

 

Me and the babe

Just breathe

As I glanced down I could feel her sweet lips sucking away. My once small breast swollen with milk covers her tiny mouth and button nose. Her eyes start to slowly close and pop open as she fights the need to sleep. I can't help but already worry about the day when she will once not need me to feed her, the day that I will no longer breast feed freaks me out. She's only 4 months old and that day is far away, but I'm already getting anxious about it. She needs me, I'm the one that can soothe her when she's upset, I'm the one that can calm her place her on my breast and fulfill her need, I'm her momma. Now don't get me wrong the rational part of me just said "don't be stupid no longer breast feeding her doesn't mean you aren't her mother" but then the crazy psycho side of me feels like it'll be an end to something powerful, meaningful and my job will be over.That connection will be gone and then what do we have? I'm sure we will have so much more, I'm sure she will need me in other ways and I'll be to busy chasing her little ass around to even remember that she use to be on the boob, but for now I guess I'm prepping myself to mourn that connection with her. 

Being a mother.....for me...so far means mourning things. There is always going to be a loss. As she grows things will change, routines will be different, she's going to grow over night and get big..... Each step in her life means she's stepping away from where she used to be. I might be one of those crazy mom's that cant let shit go. Gee lucky Scarlett. She'll be coming to me at 16 asking to go to a movie to which I'll proclaim "but your still a baby!! you can't be out that late at night..."

I wonder if I'm struggling with the idea of all these changes because I didn't get to experience them with him. I only ever had him as a tiny life less baby. So anything beyond that is huge. She lived THAT was big and now she's growing and I'm not sure I've grasped the fact that I get to keep her and she's alive. Never mind the fact that she's grabbing things and screeching at the top of her lungs because I'm not paying attention to her. Even the slightest changes are big ones, anything is big when all you know is death. All you know is that you grew a baby, you had him, he was small and perfect, but gone before he arrived. 

I hope that when I get moments like the one I just had I'm cognisant enough to stop and take her in. As I pulled her off and tucked her into the nook of my neck I listened to her breathe in and out. I remembered that her head started at my neck and stretched all the way to my top thigh....."she's so long now" I thought. In and out in and out, one breath at a time. I remembered that as I was living my hellish nightmare there were moments when I thought that he was going to just breathe. I would stop and stare at his lifeless body because I thought he was taking a breath. I held my own trying desperately to listen and catch that inhale and exhale that would shake me out of the deathly reality I was currently living. I wanted it so badly I just wanted to hear him breathe and be ok and have him. I did that off and on for 16 or so hours that I had with him, but he never took a breath and I never got to take him home. 

I hope she understands that when I'm holding her she's reminding me of him. That she knows that I'm soaking in her little moments because he taught me that I need to do that. I hope she can understand who he was and what kind of impact he had on getting her here. He's given me a chance to appreciate her more so than I think I would if he had lived. That is a gift that he will continue to give me forever. 

It's still surreal to me, my life his life this life I lead. I cannot believe this has happened. I cannot believe I carried a baby for 10 months and he didn't live. How can that happen, how can it happen to me??? Years later and I'm still blown away by such a brutal tragedy. I still feel like she's not going to be mine to keep and that something is going to happen and she will be gone. That terrifies me and I'm not sure it's something I'll every be able to shake. I don't want to live in fear, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to change that. So in turn I have to try and look at it from another point of view and just cherish the time I do have her. Listen to her tiny little baby breaths, smile at her perfect little baby smile and smell her sweet baby smell. And just make sure I breathe.