Mourning - a slow and scattered process

As I sit here and try to make sense of the loss of my unborn child, I cannot help to reflect upon all of the well meaning advice I have gotten for coping. Many people have offered a religious outlook on the loss, and I genuinely appreciate it, because talking does help. I will take any type of comfort on the topic of early pregnancy loss.

I guess, I tend to be more spiritual, rejecting the authority of organized religion. I was raised Catholic, but I never really thrived in an what felt like such a oppressive sect of Christianity. I cussed a nun out during my Confirmation classes when she informed our class that a man was coming to lecture us on how abortion is murder. I told her that a man, who will NEVER have to make that choice, should not be coming to class to tell me what I can and cannot do with my body. I told her that if a woman wants to come and talk - fine, more impactful, a woman who made the choice and regretted it.

I have explored other forms Christianity, but nothing felt right. I am very liberal in my political beliefs, so I turned to a few Unitarian churches, open to gay marriage and not so focused on the anti-choice movement. That did not fit. I guess, I am just not comfortable with with such public rituals revolving around biblical doctrine. I tend to be a bit anti-authoritarian.

But for me this is not a religous journey. It is a phychological and scientific journey. My baby died of complications arising from a freak extra chromosome. I hear the diagnosis over and over again - Alobar Holoprosencephaly. If she had lived to make it into this world, I would have gazed upon her deformed features with love. I would have watched her suffer a painful journey in an already painful world. I would have spent my time with her waiting for her to die. The babies who have lived more than a year with alobar holoprosencephaly did not have the facial defomities that my baby had.

So as painful as this choice is, I would have chosen not for that to happen, that choice was taken away from me. Even so, I am happy that I live in a country that gives woman the right to chose. I firmly believe that this does not mean that I am not in touch with God and all his glory, or that I am going to hell. Hell would be making my child suffer her short time on this earth in order to subvert my alleged tenure of eternity in Hell for making the choice not to impose suffering on my child. Someone might decide otherwise, that just would have been my choice.

Guilty...I am. I have not written in two weeks.

Well this month has been busier than usual. On March 30th Alex took a terrible tumble. He was running - full force - fell and hit the corner of a cabinet. He had a gigantic lump on his head, it formed faster than anything I had seen. I panicked, called the doctor and scheduled an appointment for an hour later (it was shocking that they had an open spot). Alex was doing better than me after his injury, in the car he was laughing and singing (lalala, his favorite song). The doctor and I held him down, and iced it. The doctor quickly assessed the head injury. She said it was "not a concussion, but it will look worse before it looks better." Holy smokes, was she right. It started out like this:

Then morphed into two black eyes... turned out that was the worse before the better...

Every time we go out, to the gym, to the grocery store, ECFE class, anywhere - I have to retell the story...Oh, he was running, fell, lump, turned into black eyes. People eye me suspiciously - the people who have no experience with hard hits to the forehead, or nose, don't know that you can get two black eyes after a blow like this. Yup, this one puts me in the running for a "Mother of the Year" award.

White Room Transformed

Many people who know me, know that I have a hard time sitting still. It is one extreme or another - a complete catonic trance in from of the telly or obsessive cleaning and some project underfoot. Ask my friend Ann, she found me under my dining room table (confession: Shania Twain blasting) dusting all of the wood relentlessly. Since that day she has nicknamed me "Monica," from the popular show Friends, well known for her OCD fit of cleaning. Anyways, I decided my son needed a place for all of his toys, art supplies and other playthings. I then decided, the white room would be the perfect spot for him. Over the course of two weeks, I transformed the place from a mudroom/lounge area, to a playroom. Good riddance to the White Room. Here is the final result:

              

Breaking down in TJ Maxx

Okay, so my husband and I are like many people in this day and age - BROKE. We are broker than we should be given my husband's income - but bills, child support, travel expenses, legal expenses, leave us with precious scraps at the end of each payperiod. It stresses me constantly, our financial situation has been making my eye twitch all day.

Today we went down to my mom's house for lunch with family. We got there early and put our son down for a nap and snuck out to run a few errands. On the way back to my mom's house, we drove by TJ Maxx. We decided to stop. Check out clearance racks, my husband needs a small travel bag for his upcoming trip to visit his daughter. The truth is, we just felt like window shopping and pretending we actually have money to splurge on something.

Inside the store, we split up, my husband likes to look at home goods, I like to look at clothes, books for my little man, etc. I was looking at toddler clothes, when I saw the most adorable "set" of girl newborn gear. I lost it...started crying, soft at first then full blown sobbing. Customers curiously threw me side glances, I quickly tried to bury myself in the childrens book section. My husband found me standing there, holding two 'Thomas the Train' books, crying. He pulled me aside, took me to a less busy section to calm me down. After a few loving words, he directed me to the bathroom. He was waiting for me when I emerged ten minutes later, puffy and wearing sunglasses.

As embarrassing as it was to "lose it" in the middle of a store. it could not be helped. I am screaming inside, feeling anxious all of the time. Wondering if I keep holding it together.

Building Blocks

My son like to stack up his blocks, just to smack them down again. I love watching him do this:

It is a reminder to myself - I need to learn to build myself back up again after getting knocked down. Lately, I have had a very difficult time doing that. I am sad, I smile and pretend it is all right, because, I do not want to let my child down. I do not want to let my husband down. People do not like to be around people who are sad. When I lost my Dad, I was the lowest, I had felt in a long time. Almost everyone had abandoned me, they didn't know what to say. I did not know what to say, I just knew I was so sad. I saw a picture of myself recently at a City Council meeting a few weeks after my Dad passed. It was surreal, the news was replaying a clip of the meeting, I was right next to the person speaking, helping them with their presentation. I was at work, looking so grief-stricken, that I wanted to step back into time and hug myself. At that time, no one really knew what to do, all I wanted was a hug.

So if you know someone who has suffered a loss recently, take the time to talk to them, hug them and say your sorry. It really does make a difference. Just listen, they do not need you to solve a problem that cannot be solved.

Today would be my father's birthday. Today, I would be 18 weeks pregnant. Today, all the "would bes" are making me feel really sad.

One opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted?

I was listening to music with my son, while attempting put together an annoying item from IKEA. My iPod randomly selected the Eminem song "Lose Yourself." I blasted it at top volume, grabbed my son up and danced. Shh, don't judge, the little one doesn't know what cuss words are yet. As I bounced around, I was struck my these lines:

Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted - One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?

I thought to myself, what is the moment I want to capture? Does life ever throw you just one opportunity? Or is the week just filled with chances to seize your dream? Conclusions: (1) You're in charge of recognizing the daily opportunities presented to you, and (2) I overthought a really silly song.

I am in an abusive relationship - HELP

PARODY ALERT. Help me, I am in an abusive relationship. Today, he head-butted me and it caused my nose to bleed and a bruise on my cheek. When I asked him for a hug last night, he hit me, laughed and ran away. Yesterday morning, he threw his milk at me and proceeded to yell for five minutes. He pinches, kicks and yells a lot. I think he tried to bite me a few days ago.

I know he tortures animals. The cat is scared of him, she runs away when he approaches. The dog has not been the same since he came on the scene. Despite my attempts to get him to be gentle, I caught him sitting on the dog a week ago and pulling her tail. She sat there and took it, but I suspect she did not enjoy it.

Yeah, you know where this is going...we have all heard and lived the stories. The terrible twos, which peeks at 18 months. My sweet little boy is abusive...and I love every stinking (literally) minute of it.

Happy Anniversary, Boo Boo!

Today is my 2nd wedding anniversary with my husband. I am listening to the sounds of him gently playing guitar in the next room. So, I am not going to spend a lot of time writing tonight.
When we met, I never thought we would make it to marriage. I always assumed it was one of those things. Marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. I met him upon the heels of a horrible divorce to a man I had know since I was fifteen (together with since 21). Never having had a rebound before, I figured that is what he would be, that is how I rationalized how intensely I felt for him. He soon became my best friend. Then I thought we would only ever be friends. But he, and life had other plans. Now four years later, we have a beautiful boy and are hoping to make it as far in marriage as our parents have.

Also today I received notice of the burial service that the hospital puts on for bereaved parents who have lost their babies early in pregnancy. I am looking forward to attending, closure? Not ever forgetting, just seeking some feeling of peace.