Grief Quotes #7

"Grief can be terrifying.

And why would we not be afraid? Deep in grief, we look up and see the reflection in our mirror is not our own, not us as we have previously known ourselves. We are changed, and we do not recognize the stranger we have become. We long for our old lives, our old selves; we crave meaning and belonging - we ache for them.

The yearning is unquenchable.

And that sense of emptiness propels us toward unsuccessful attempt to fill that person-shaped hole. The distractions we use to take us from our feelings are one way we try to state that emptiness.

The only alternative to distraction is being with grief - one painful, terrifying moment at a time."

- Dr. Joanne Cacciatore

From Bearing the Unbearable

This passage resonates with me. Because A was our first child, I had the luxury of throwing myself into my grief. I didn't have living children who needed me to be functional. E stayed home with me for the first two weeks. After that, I had another 4 weeks of maternity leave to hole up and relinquish myself to the waves of emotions. It was exhausting; it was ugly and most of the time I wondered if any of the grief work was having an effect.

In retrospect, I do believe that those early weeks and months of devoting myself to processing A's death and being with the grief put me in a better place when Dragon came along. Once we had a living baby, there was hardly a spare minute to cry and breakdown. If I hadn't faced my grief head-on in those early months, I wouldn't be the functional person I am today.

Not that there isn't a place for distraction in traumatic grief. E and I binge watched every season of The Big Bang Theory (online shows meant no chance of diaper commercials triggering a meltdown). I guess, like most of life, it's about balance. Balancing distraction and "being with grief." And, like most of life, it's easier said than done.

A’s 3rd Birthday

I wrote this to A on his birthday last month. I am finally getting around to posting it here.

My Darling Son,

We are having exceptionally warm weather. That last time we had such unseasonably mild October weather was in 2011 as we were counting down the days to your arrival.  I remember wearing sandals up to the week before you were born - convenient because my swollen feet didn’t fit into my shoes. I remember walking over to the hospital in a light t-shirt and rain jacket. I remember feeling the wetness of Daddy’s raincoat when he collapsed on my chest sobbing during that final, conclusive ultrasound.

Each beautiful sunny, autumn day makes me ache for you. As your third birthday approaches I wonder what theme you’d have chosen for your party this year? Pirates? Dinosaurs? Outer space? And what about Halloween, my Love? What would you like to be this year? Whatever you choose, we’ll come up with a corresponding costume for your little sister; it’s probably the last year before she asserts her own opinion.

I often wonder what the sibling dynamic would be between you two. I wish that I could be witness to that evolving relationship. Daddy and I have decided to have another baby. If we are fortunate enough to bring a new baby home I know it will break my heart all over again watching your sister dote on that baby. I fantasize about a 15-month-old you meeting Dragon at the hospital for the first time, kissing her face sweetly, insisting on holding her by yourself!

It is undeniable that you, dear boy, have made me a better mother than I would have been. I have shed my pride. Inhibition, embarrassment and judgment do not influence my parenting as they once did. I have clear priorities that spending time together, with Dragon and with family, are far more important than any chore or job or mess. I am liberated from concern about what others think or feel about me or my choices. Now I can do what is best for us without hesitation. Just one of your many gifts.

I love you with all my being.

Love,

Mama

Little Sister

Baby Dragon is still alive and healthy. We are combating jaundice with frequent feedings. This is working and it’s also packing on the weight. She’s gaining an average of 2 ounces a day!

The frequent feedings have left E and I complete zombies, but it’s worth it. Plus we just got the go ahead at her 2-week well child checkup to relax the feeding schedule to on demand. If we’re lucky she’ll give us a solid 3 ½ hours between feeds.

It’s been just 2 weeks and already she is changing so much. Her face looks more like a baby than a newborn. Her belly is distended now. Her arms and legs are thickening with new creases showing up daily. A few of her features resemble her big brother’s but for the most part she is her very own person. Although I wished for this baby to look like A it is so much better for me that she’s uniquely herself.

The feeding schedule afforded me barely an hour between feeds which meant I could either sleep for an hour, eat something and shower or make a few phone calls before it was time to put her back on. While I love the closeness of nursing, I am only just now beginning to enjoy her like I had hoped. Now with a bit more time in between sessions I can kiss her, play with her; just plain stop and admire her. Except that is dangerous territory. Whenever I take some time to stop and wonder at this tiny, beautiful being, I well up. I’m still trying to grasp that she is our daughter, that she is ours to keep.

I cry at least every other day. Sometimes because I am so grateful for Dragon and so in love with her. Sometimes because I envision our future with this child and already I want to slow down time – I want her to stay tiny and curled up for a long time. Sometimes because I miss A even more now that I know how it’s supposed to go. Sometimes I can’t even discern what brings on the tears.

To be honest, with the traumatic birth, general anesthesia and then strict nursing schedule I haven’t had much time to process it all. I need some quiet time to process her birth, how it all went down. I need to process that she is mine and allow the maternal connection to really sink in. I need to re-assess A’s birth now that I can compare it to a “normal” delivery experience. I need to re-mourn our darling son because now I understand much better what he and what we missed out on – there is so much more to grieve.

Like I said earlier, they detected the umbilical cord around Dragon’s neck at our weekly BPP. It was actually wrapped twice around her neck. This was the impetus to induce right away.  Most of that Wednesday we just hung out in the labor/delivery room. I was admitted early in the morning and the Cervidil wasn’t inserted until 3pm. So we ate, listened to her heartbeat on the monitor and tooled around the internet trying to calm our nerves.

By 11pm I was having painful contractions that required me to focus my breathing. At 3am the Cervidil came out. I was 2cm (I can’t remember what percentage effaced). I had hoped to be further along and was on the brink of tears. The hospital staff assured me this was good progress given we started at high, tight and not even 1cm. Some women, they said, require a second round of Cervidil.

After a 2-hour break, wherein I was allowed to eat again, they started the pitocin drip. Throughout this ordeal I was constantly doubting my decision to force my body into labor. Every half hour the pitocin drip was turned up a bit. By 6am we called our doula and she arrived. I continued to breath through contractions and tried to rest in between.

Our midwife, who is awesome, allowed me to continue to eat throughout the day. We changed positions, walked the halls and sat on the birthing ball trying to help things progress. When I was checked mid-afternoon and found to be 4cm I again felt like giving up. I considered how much “easier” it would be to have a C-section. I felt envious of the anonymous women in the room next to me who had delivered her baby hours ago (you’d think they’d soundproof the walls of labor/delivery rooms better). I wanted to call the whole thing off. My confidence was non-existent. My conviction to continue laboring without pain medicine was waning – big time.

In early evening I was 6cm and we were at the full pitocin dosage. The midwife gave me the option. We could stop the pitocin and take a break. (This was very enticing because I had been laboring since 11pm the day before without hardly a wink of sleep.) But when we started back up we’d have to start at the lowest dosage and work our way up again. Or we could dial the pitocin down a couple notches and see how we progressed. As tempting as it was to pull the plug and have a Pit vacation, I knew I didn’t have the mental or emotional endurance to start from scratch.

The pit was dialed down and I kept working through each contraction. They were getting very intense but I had a good 2-minutes between contractions, which was just lovely (no seriously it was; I’m not being sarcastic). By 6pm the midwife, doula and nurse were prepping the room for delivery. Baby was coming within the hour they said.

I continued to change positions as suggested by the knowledgeable team and baby sank lower and lower. The external heart rate monitor remained on Dragon the entire time. I could feel her very low in my pelvis but did not yet have the urge to push. The midwife suggested I lay on my right side. I did. Baby Dragon fell off the monitor so they suggested I flip to my left side as baby obviously didn’t like this side. I flipped over and then felt lots of discomfort high up under my ribs. This was unusual because all of the pain and discomfort had been down low. I mentioned this out loud but the nurse was too busy trying to locate Dragon’s heartbeat again.

The midwife reached in to check if I was dilated fully and could start pushing. What she felt entering the birth canal was a tiny hand, not a baby head. In addition she could feel a portion of cord.  This is where things get frantic. Immediately she paged the attending doctor who came in and confirmed Dragon’s hand and cord were coming first. Now there are a handful more staff in the room palpating my belly trying to determine how baby is lying. They wheel in an ultrasound machine and throw an oxygen mask on me. I am still having intense contractions and trying to breath best I can but the scene is panic inducing.

Someone shouts out to prep an OR stat and all of a sudden the cords and monitors are whipped off me and they’re wheeling my bed down the hallway. E has to remain in the labor room – there is no time for him to get prepped and they’ll be knocking me out with general anesthesia because I did not have an epidural.

The anesthesiologist is in my face urging me to focus on her and only her. She’s asking me pertinent questions about past surgeries and my experience with anesthesia. Simultaneously there are a dozen people rushing around the OR - two people are wrapping my calves, one inserts the catheter, another drapes and swabs my belly, two separate people strap my arms down, a resident is holding an oxygen bag over my face. It is crazy.

The doctor tells me they’re going to push the anesthesia and that’s the last I remember. Next thing I know, I’m groggily waking up in the post-op recovery room. I feel like hell and am very confused. E is there holding a bundled baby and tells me it is our baby. That our daughter is here safe and sound. I can hardly keep my eyes open. With the assistance of the doula, E manipulates my breasts and gives our tiny Dragon her first feed. I can’t muster the strength to raise my arms. Shortly thereafter E leaves with the pediatric nurse to accompany Dragon for her first bath and examination. I am pushed to our maternity recovery room to get settled. E and Dragon rejoin me a little while later but I’m still very drowsy.

Fortunately, she was never in distress and was healthy upon delivery. E says they brought her to him approximately 15-minutes after I was hectically wheeled out of the room. He was able to stay with her from that point on.

Supposedly what happened is this. The umbilical cord was not particularly long and it was wrapped twice around her neck. As she descended the tension on the cord increased. To relieve the tension and save her own life, she twisted at the last minute into a transverse position. The midwife says in her entire life, she’s never seen that happen. I have to credit our little girl for that maneuver and the incredible hospital staff who got her out so quickly.

Like I said, we are home and trying to adjust to the lack of sleep. Dragon is thriving and we are over-the-moon in love with her. Honestly, I just can’t get enough of her.

I may fade and in and out of the blogosphere, but I am always here reading and abiding. Thank you for taking the time to read to the end of this post.

Better Safe Than Sorry

This morning I headed to the perinatalogist's for our weekly BPP and NST. The ultrasound tech took extra time to examine cord blood flow with the Doppler and seemed to try a dozen different angles looking at the cord. Having had 8 previous sonograms in the last few months, I knew this was unusual. She commented that my fluid was 9.8, well into the normal range, but just last week it was 16. So a significant drop. She said she would bring it up to the doctor while I was on the monitor for my NST. Moments after being hooked up totje monior, the doctor hastened into the room looking quite serious.

"Many baby's are born with the cord around their neck. Only in about 15% of cases is it serious or dangerous. However, with your history I think we should induce. I'm going down to talk to Labor and Delivery."

The fluid level is not a concern, but Baby Dragon's nuchal cord is. I immediately called E at work and told him we were having this baby and they were admitting me. Good thing I just packed the hospital bag and washed baby laundry (literally in the last 48 hours).

An hour later the paperwork was done, IV in, vitals taken and E was here by my side. My cervix is high and tight, not even 1cm. All the pineapple, red radpberry leaf tea and sex these past couple weeks could not force my body into an unnaturally early labor.

Because my cervix is still mostly closed  a manual dilation like the foley bulb is not an option. We have opted to delay the insertion of Cervidil because our midwives are not on call today but they come on in the morning. Twelve hours of Cervidil then the pitocin is started and by that time our midwife should be here.

I don't mind waiting because we are constantly on the monitor. As long as baby looks good, there is no rush.

All that being said. I am still terrified and very anxious. I am not looking forward to hours and hours of medicated labor. So far I've kept it together but the tears are barely below the surface. I will surely break down at some point here. I think E is just as scared, anxious and excited as I am.

37w3d. 1 hour until Cervidil is inserted. Wish me luck.

Merry Christmas My Son

We were only a couple months out from A’s stillbirth at Christmastime last year. Heavy in the fog of early intense grief, E and I did not do anything specific in his memory. He was included in my extended family’s gift giving which pleased my heart; they made donations in his honor to various bereavement organizations.

Maybe because I am more energetic and clearheaded a year later or maybe because a 14-month-old at Christmas is more engaging than an 8-week-old, E and I decided to shop for our son and whatever we bought for him we’d donate to a local toy drive. We went to a couple different stores because we each had a special gift in mind. I wanted a ride-on, push-able toy. I figure our guy would be practicing out this walking business about now and would utilize a large, sturdy toy on wheels that he could push and thus walk around. E really wanted to get an animal puppet. We had seen them at a local shop before A died and he’s thought about it ever since (he got one for Dragon too).

In addition to those two items, we picked up a few more things. Surely the other holiday shoppers passing us in the aisles wouldn’t have thought anything strange about our conversation because we discussed it as if A was alive and well. 

“Do you think he’d like these magnets?”
“Eh, he’d probably put them directly into his mouth.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Plus it says 3 years + on the box.”

“Which puzzle should we get him? One of these with the knobs or a block puzzle.”
“The knobs.”
“Dinosaurs or farm animals?”
“Umm, Farm.”

“Ooh, the classic Fisher Price corn popper.”
“Hell no. That thing is so noisy and annoying. I don’t want it in my house.”
“Ha ha ha, fair enough.”

Once we brought the toys home I had the strongest urge to lie down with them; to surround myself with these packaged playthings. As though that would somehow make me feel more connected to my son and the little boy he would be right now.

I wanted to take a photo before I dropped them off at the donation center. Perhaps this will become an annual tradition; buying age appropriate gifts for our missing son. As emotionally difficult as it was, I’m very glad we did it and in a way it does make me feel closer to A.

A's final haul

Holidays 2012

Last year A was stillborn in mid-October so we’ve already survived all the “first” holidays. Despite having those initial holidays and an entire year under my belt, I am still torn up over the holidays this year. American Thanksgiving was recently and the Christmas onslaught has already begun. Last year A would have been a mushy blob of an infant – approximately 1-month old for Thanksgiving and 2-months old for Christmas. Significant for it being his first and for it being our first as a family. Honestly, I don’t think the kid would have cared one way or other what we did or who was present.

But this year, this year he’d be 13- and 14-months old. We’d be lugging his highchair to various Thanksgiving feasts where he’d practice feeding himself and be intrigued by the texture of the mashed potatoes squishing through his fingers. I’d make E pose for a family photo with all three of us dressed nicely, knowing that A would soon be covered in squash and such. Instead of being the lump of a baby who gets passed around all night, he’d be fidgety and want to get down and play, walk and explore; trying to catch my aunt’s cat. The only baby at the gathering and delighting in all the attention.

Christmas I surely would have bought him more than he needed. Christmas morning I’d try to coax him into opening presents but his sweet 14-month-old mind doesn’t understand the concept and he’s more interested in the flashing lights on the tree, goofing with his Daddy and playing with the colorful discarded wrapping paper. Regardless, E would have the video camera rolling the entire time as we enjoyed a leisurely morning in our PJs. Then off to two separate family get togethers. We’d dress A in some ridiculous toddler-sized sweater vest and corduroys. Again A would be oblivious to the concept of Christmas but would revel in the big group of loving family members gathered and adoring him. My mother and aunts would try to wrestle him into sitting still for photos and try to cajole him into opening presents but he’s far more interested in playing with my cousin’s 3- and 5-year-old even if they dress him up like a princess.

The last quarter of the year has thus far been very intense. It begins with the changing of the seasons, then A’s birthday in October, next Halloween and just as I’m getting back on my feet, Thanksgiving is here and Christmas is around the corner. I feel like I’m waist-deep in the ocean getting knocked down by the powerful waves. Each time I resurface to gasp for air another wave is right on top of me pummeling me downward.

A’s First Birthday

I am still stumbling after A’s first birthday earlier this week. Once I get my footing back, I’ll have more to say. In the mean time, here is the letter I wrote to my sweet boy on his birthday. It’s disjointed because it was written spontaneously as the sentiments came to me.

     Happy first birthday My Love. You’d be such a big boy by now. Daddy and I would shake our heads in disbelief while we marveled at how much you’ve grown and how each day we love you more than the last.

     I think we would have a low-key day. I’d bake you a mini-cake. After dinner we’d set that cake on your highchair tray. You’d eye it with curiosity a bit unsure of what it is or what to do with it. Tentatively you’d poke at it with your chubby index finger and eventually dive right in pressing fistfuls to your face. Cake and icing is smeared everywhere. You’re an absolute mess! And Daddy captured it all on video. (Definitely a bath night!)

     Daddy would wait until you were in your crib, down for the night, then he’d pull me close, kiss my forehead and we’d recount your birth story while we expressed our awe and gratitude at your existence and our little family of three.

     A, today the sun I shining brightly, the fall foliage is peaking and it is going to be unseasonably warm. It is an absolutely beautiful, perfect day to be born.

     Twelve months is a sliver of a lifetime but in this past year we would have learned so much about you (and ourselves).

     I want to know what your laugh sounds like.

     I want to know what your favorite foods are.

     I want to know where your tickle spots are.

     I want to know if you like to swim and splash in the water.

     I want to know your personality.

     I want to know your preferred sleep position.

     I want to know if you’d still be nursing (even just at bedtime).

     I want to know what silly face, or voice, or behavior of Daddy’s slays you every time.

     I honestly think I miss you even more now but I know too, that as time has passed my love has also grown. I mean it when I say Daddy and I love you more than words can express.

An Ode to E (and All Babyloss Dads)

Like I mentioned in my Father’s Day post, I have a lot to say about my husband. Even before the tragedy of stillbirth entered our lives, I knew I had an extraordinary man. Since A’s death, I have been further awed by his openness in grieving, his composure in accepting the injustice that befell us, his fortitude to keep going and his endless patience and devotion to me as I wander lost in Griefland. This is an ode to my E, but I think it may apply to many babylost Daddies.

In those last few months, as I succumbed to the physical tolls of late pregnancy and tidal waves of hormones, E really stepped up. He was clearly exhausted, but never said as much.

Then, when it should have been over. When he should have been rewarded with his look-alike prize, the world demanded even more of him.

His strong, opinionated wife lie shattered at his feet incapable of making even the smallest decision. And he, utterly beat and worn out, stoops down and gingerly scoops up the broken pieces of his woman, every last deformed bit. Arms loaded with these unrecognizable shards, he cradles them and gently lays them on the bed. He does not try to fix it, to fit the pieces back together or reassemble. No, he waits. He enduringly watches as the heap of his wife slowly reforms - a flicker of her old self, the woman he fell in with, the one he married – only to crumble again. And still he keeps vigil over the crumpled pile of woman, even though his own devastation wreaks havoc inside him, his concern is for her.

He walks on eggshells as life moves forward, never quite sure what state she’ll be in that day, that hour. Sometimes he arrives home to a wife making dinner, humming along to the radio. Others, he opens the door and rushes towards the sound of her sobs. Immediately setting aside his own needs and wants, to embrace her in the only love that heals.

Time marches on. He’s had no reprieve. Exhaustion is an understatement. He is utterly burnt out from giving so much of himself, coping with his own anguish and functioning in the greater world for the both of them.

Regardless of his dried up reserves and his own need for nurturing, when he sees that wince of pain flash across her face he stops what he’s doing and comes to her. Still giving when he has nothing left to give. His dedication never wanes.

Patiently he monitors her status, absorbing the peaks and valleys; always braced for the storm. He abides.

I am so incredibly fortunate to have E as my partner. It is only with his love, patience and strength that I am surviving this. He is literally my reason for living.

Dead Baby Cards

Is there a website that specializes in dead baby cards? It was difficult to find an appropriate card for my dear husband as a childless father for Father's Day last week. Also, since A officially made our parents grandparents, I wanted to mark Mother's and Father's Day this year for them as well. The variety for Mother's Day grandmother cards wasn't great, but I did find two that worked. Father's Day was impossible because every single greeting card was either from the child's perspective or had "Happy Father's Day" somewhere on it. Certainly there was nothing happy about my Dad's first Father's Day as a grandfather with no grandchild to tickle. I resorted to an online card site where you are able to customize the wording. It worked out fine and he was really touched, but it took some digging and some effort on my part.

The more I thought about it, there are other dead baby card needs too. Given the uniqueness of losing a baby, thoughtful sympathy cards specific for when a baby dies would be a gift for both the bereaved family and those who are sending the card. We received some awkward ones and unfortunately I've had the occasion twice since A died to purchase sympathy cards for other couples who lost their babies. The pickin's are slim in the card aisle.

Also due date, anniversary and birthday cards that are sensitive to a babyloss scenario would be handy. Possibly even congratulatory cards on a subsequent pregnancy that also acknowledges the continued sorrow and longing for the deceased child.

Or how about birth announcements. We did not send birth announcements after A was stillborn. It wasn't because we thought it strange or uncomfortable, but because we were numb and consumed by grief. I know that some of the online birth announcements could be used interchangeably for a living or deceased baby. My fellow babyloss blogger Mom, Julie, has a beautiful example here. But no parent should have to scroll through pages of examples depicting breathing babies right after they've had to part with their own precious bundle.

If anyone knows of a site that caters to the babylost community with products like these or if someone creates such a site one day, please drop a line and let me know.

A Childless Father

There is so much to say about the phenomenal man who loves me unconditionally and whom I proudly call the father of my child. As I sat down to write a post for Father’s Day, out poured pages and pages and tears and tears. Perhaps I’ve been avoiding writing about E because it strikes to the very center of my being. When I think of him and A together that brief day or imagine how they’d interact today, the emotion splits me completely in half.

I was very proud and so thrilled to give the man I love a child. I always knew he’d be a wonderful Dad. He has the perfect blend of responsibility, wit, patience and humor. As the pregnancy wore on, it became apparent just how badly he too wanted a baby.

E was attentive through weeks of childbirth class even doing further research on his own. He practiced swaddling dolls and looked forward to bouncing our baby into serenity on the exercise ball. In the heat of summer, with myself unable to assist, he spent days replacing windows in our apartment because they tested positive for lead.

He would talk to A, shine a flashlight through my skin, prod and play with his ever growing baby. When we found out A was breech, E would physically support me as I hung my enormous self halfway off the couch trying to flip him head down. He would tie a sling around my back to ease the aching. He carried my bicycle in and out of the house each day. I can on and on.

The support he gave during the pregnancy, his thoughtful preparations anticipating our child’s arrival and his dedicated interactions with A in utero further confirmed what a fantastic father he would be. But watching him instinctively wash, wrap and cuddle his newborn son solidified it. The tenderness with which he held and sang to him overflowed my heart with love. He advocated for his child and me during our ordeal at the hospital and ever since. 

He wrote a heartfelt note to A and left it in the bassinet with him when it was time to leave. He pushed the bassinet to the window so A could enjoy his first and only sunset. He practically carried me out of the hospital that night and he hasn’t set me down yet.

Although this isn’t the way I had pictured Father’s Day 2012, my darling E still deserves  recognition and honor for being an incredible parent and a devoted Daddy.