Vent: the Brew.er Diet

Recently I’ve begun trying to educate myself about childbirth, and the options available to me. Being a high-risk pregnancy I am preparing myself to be very flexible and “go with the flow” based on my doctor’s advice and whatever my circumstances are around the time of delivery. However, I also want to be really confident and informed going into labor. I’m one of those “read everything I can get my hands on” people who likes to research as much as possible. Information is power!

I’ll write more later about what we’ve looked into and learned about, but this post is a vent about something that REALLY ticked me off. And made me cry. And brought me back about 10 steps from where I was, as far as my emotional well-being/acceptance of the loss of my boys.

I was reading a workbook I friend loaned me about the Brad.ley Method of Childbirth. I won’t get into the method itself here, because I have no problems with it in general, and think it’s great if it helps women achieve the kind of birth they desire. One of the main focuses of this program is nutrition, which we can all agree is very important! HOWEVER, the claims of their particular nutritional plan are what got me so upset.

The nutrional plan emphasized is called the Brew.er Diet. Again, I won’t go into the details here (you can google it), but it purports to help women AVOID preeclampsia.

And there it is.

This diet claims that by eating properly, women will not get preeclampsia (they call it toxemia), and it outright pisses me off. It pisses me off because this diet was developed a long time ago (the 60s), and research has totally blown the theory out of the water, at least for developed countries. There is no peer-reviewed research to support this diet. But the BIGGER issue I have is that, by stating that women who follow this diet will avoid the disease, it also insinuates that it is somehow MY fault that I got sick.

I cannot tell you how long I have spent trying to convince myself that what happened was not my fault. It is only very recently, and with more and more research coming out, that I’ve been able to recognize that there is nothing I could have done to prevent this. It is not my fault.

It is not my fault. And yet, reading this small bit in the Brad.ley workbook brought me to tears, because I felt so judged. The plan made me feel like it was MY fault that I did not “stay low-risk,” which is a major focus of the program. And just like that, I was back to square one, blaming myself. And worrying that I’ not doing all I can for this new baby. And thinking about how, if something goes wrong, I will again feel like a failure.

What I really hate is knowing that there are people out there who, due to misinformation, think that it truly is my fault, or that I could have eaten more protein and avoided this tragic loss. There are probably even friends of mine who, though they would never ever say it aloud, deep down think that “if only she’d known about the Brew.er Diet” things would have been different.

I know I can’t change what other people think, so I have to focus on being OK with myself, and not blaming myself. That’s all I can do.

If you’re curious to read some more about this diet/reactions to it from the pre-e community, check out these links:

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19437225

http://www.preeclampsia.org/forum/viewtopic.php?t=9742

You can google the diet and find the official website for it, too, but I’ll tell you that I could not spend more than 30 seconds there before my blood was boiling. Whew! (Trying stay calm and positive!) Thanks for letting me vent.

Long Overdue Update

I'm sorry I've been so MIA lately! "Real life" has been very full, and while I think many, many things to blog about I rarely have time to sit down and compose my thoughts into a post. Slow day at work today, so thought I'd steal a few minutes. For those of you that are checking up on me (thank you!) here is an update:

• I will be 25 weeks pregnant tomorrow! Praise the Lord! I can't believe I didn't write about the big 24-week milestone, but that's because I was too busy celebrating and enjoying it. I cannot believe I've made it this far. Of course, no one would wish for their baby to be born at 25 weeks, but each day gives me more hope that we will be able to take this baby home and raise her. It gives me comfort knowing that if something happened at this point, she is now considered a patient in the eyes of the medical community.
• Speaking of Baby Girl, I am just completely smitten with her already. I was concerned that I would have trouble bonding, as I know that's an issue for many babyloss moms. In the beginning it was more difficult. I was so afraid, and didn't want to invest myself too deeply, for fear that we would lose her. Well the fears are still there, but I've been really blessed to be able to relax a bit more and truly enjoy being pregnant. I know this is God's doing and not mine, because my brain is a minefield of what ifs? I am so thankful that He has allowed me moments of pure joy as I feel her moving around, and get to do some of the things expectant parents do like registering, looking at cute clothes, etc. This baby is going to be so spoiled it's not even funny, and I can't say I will help the situation!
• Like I said, we are mostly consumed with real-life concerns and tasks lately. Trying to get more work for our freelance business, looking for daycare options (WOW daycare is expensive here), finances, etc. I have been so overwhelmed at times. I try to remember that it is a blessing to have these problems to worry about. I would take the worries about money and work and schedules over the grief of loss any day. But easier said than done, a lot of times.
• I'm looking for a creative way to include Asher & Evan in the baby's nursery. Something small that we as a family will know about and recognize. I don't really have any ideas yet, so if you have suggestions I'd love to hear them!

Overall, I'd say my life is a dance between fear and joy lately. Most of the time the joy outweighs the fear, but when fear shows up it is VERY heavy. And I miss my boys so much. I've been able to go into baby stores and all that, but it brings back memories of registering for them. Every time I got to Babies R Us we pass the bedding that we had planned to use for them. When J and I registered we passed that section, and both looked, and moved on without saying anything. We didn't have to. We both knew how much it hurt. Some days it is a conscious decision to ignore the fear and embrace the joy. But mostly, I am so, so thankful.

And now I'm off to turn down the heat in my office, because someone thinks it's OK to set the thermostat to 75 degrees. Have some mercy on the pregnant lady, people!

Big Day

Today is a milestone day! Today I am 22 weeks and 4 days pregnant, officially the most pregnant I have ever been.

Today and yesterday have both been very bittersweet for me, as I remember what happened at 22 weeks and 3 days with the boys. They came into this world, much too soon. And they left this world, making a   tremendous impact for such short lives. I had a good cry for them last weekend. It's been a while since I've done that, and it felt good. I still miss them so much. But I try to stay as positive from day-to-day as possible for the sake of this new little one.

Of course, I am beyond thrilled to be at this point with Asher & Evan's little sister. She is growing like a weed, and constantly amazing me with the strength of her kicks! I feel incredibly blessed to have her with me, and am so thankful for every single day. Today especially.

I have wanted to write more often, but I've been busy, and overwhelmed by the sheer number of thoughts that go through my head each day. Literally from joy to panic and back again, with some grief thrown into the middle. Such is my "new normal," I guess. I'm going to attempt some coherent updates, but be warned... this will be a long one!

::

Christmas was really good! We enjoyed seeing family, watching our nephews and niece run around like maniacs all weekend, opening presents, resting, and soaking in the joy of Christmas. Christmas Day itself was a bit tough... I was concerned that I would lose it during the marathon two-hour gift-opening that morning (I had visions of me crying while trapped in the room by piles of gifts, forcing me to sob in front of everyone), but I was OK. I was OK until we (inconveniently) were at someone else's house. And then I lost it. And spent over half an hour sitting in a bedroom and crying. I couldn't even put into words what I was feeling... my tears were the only way to express how much I missed Asher & Evan. I am lucky that our family is more than understanding, and no one made a big deal of it. And I was fine the rest of the day. I think I just needed some time to acknowledge and feel the pain, in the midst of all the happiness.

J kept asking me if I "had an OK Christmas" like it really sucked but I managed to get through. I tried to emphasize that Christmas was actually really good. My new normal means that I can spend an hour sobbing, and still have an OK day. I'm (sadly) used to it. If that weren't the case I would be completely insane by now.

::

I'm slowly catching up on blog reading—and will be even slower to catch up on commenting—but I am so thrilled to see all the rainbow pregnancies lately! I am praying for happy, healthy, normal, uneventful pregnancies for each of you.

::

So, the "joy-to-panic-and-back-again" thing. Of course this has to do with Baby 3, who is happily growing in my belly and giving me all kinds of digestive issues. :-) I am thrilled, thrilled, thrilled, and so thankful to be 16 and a half weeks pregnant with this little one. When I am able to focus on the joy I am moved to tears by how thankful I am. However, it's a daily struggle to focus on the joy over the terror that sneaks into my mind. I've had so many thoughts that I would never voice aloud, but have wanted to share here, as I'm sure many of you can relate. I worry how much time I have left with this baby, and feel like a ticking time bomb. Quick refresher: I was admitted to the hospital at 21 weeks, delivered at 22 and a few days. I was most definitely showing signs of pre-e at my 20-week appointment. So, yeah. Did I mention I'm approaching 17 weeks??? As we get closer to 20 my blood pressure will probably rise just from the stress.

I had lunch with my mom yesterday and we talked about being nervous. She commented that I have to try not to be too nervous, but then said, "But how can you do that? How is that possible? Meditation, what? How do you do it?" I shrugged. I just do. What choice do I have?

Aside from praying and surrendering my worries to God, I haven't found anything else that really helps me calm down. Honestly it helps me to remind myself that I have absolutely no control over how this turns out. I. Have. No. Control. This helps because it allows me to stop dwelling and worrying so much about things. It's wasted energy. All I can do is enjoy each day that I have with this baby. I hope and pray that I will have years with this child, but even if it's only today, I'm striving to be thankful just for that.


::

And lastly, I know that many babyloss moms out there have "goals" that they want to reach in their pregnancies. Whether or not these dates mean anything, it somehow helps to have small victories to reach. Here are the dates I'm praying for. I will be ecstatic to reach any/each of them:

• January 22: the week of my birthday, 20 weeks pregnant.
• February 9: 22 weeks and 4 days pregnant. This will be the most pregnant I have ever been, and past the day when we lost the boys.
• February 19: 24 weeks pregnant

I can't even think beyond 24 at this point. If I get to 24 with no pre-e I will be crying and puking and sobbing with joy. (Seriously. Thanks to Baby 3, if I cry too hard I start gagging, and you know what comes next....)

This is silly, but I somehow feel like I'm tempting fate by listing these days. Isn't that weird? I mean, I'm a Christian, so I believe God is in absolute control, and He doesn't work that way. Yet every step I take to "commit" more fully to this pregnancy, I feel a little nervous that I somehow jinxed myself. As Mich.ael Scott would say, "I'm not superstitious... but I am a little stitious."

Birthday Recap

Well, we made it. Through their birthday, I mean. The day was about what I expected—tough, with lots of tears, but also sweet in some ways. Here's a recap:

We slept in really late (as late as I possibly could) on Thursday morning, then had cinnamon rolls for breakfast. As we lazed around wondering what to do with ourselves I checked my phone and received a few kind voice mails, emails, and Facebook messages. Cue tears. I was so touched by the responses of family and friends.

For a while we just sat on the couch and cried. We looked at all of their belongings—their tiny blankets and hats, footprints, hospital bracelets, photos, ultrasound pictures. I was glad we hadn't planned too much for the day because I couldn't predict how I would feel or react, or what I'd want to do.

Eventually we got ready for the day, and I put the finishing touches on the blankets and hats I'd crocheted for the hospital (I'll update with photos if I remember). The ones we received when Asher & Evan were born are one of my most treasured possessions. I remember feeling so cared for, that a stranger would take the time to make these items specifically for tiny babies. I plan to donate a set of hats and blankets each year.

After lunch we went to the hospital to donate the hats and blankets. I really wasn't sure how this would go, as it was our first time back there since we left with empty arms on December 18th. But it actually ended up being the most satisfying part of the day! It felt really good to do something in their honor, and to know that another family will benefit from the blankets the way we did. I also felt somewhat resolved and almost empowered walking through the hospital, like Yes, I am here, and I'm not sick. I can do this. We plan to deliver Baby 3 at the same hospital, so it felt good to have some closure before we go back again.

What else can I tell you? Overall the day was very low-key, which was perfect for us. We felt supported by all the messages, gifts, and emails we received, but we spent the entire day by ourselves. No pressure. It was just right.

Although we spent the day alone, I was very concerned that we involve other people in the boys' birthday, and invite them to participate in it in some way. So the week before, we sent out cards with Asher & Evan's footprints on them (again, I'll post pictures later). The cards asked our friends and family to do an act of kindness in their honor and let us know about it. We've gotten a really positive response, and a few "reports" back so far, including donations to charities, a letter to a soldier, and a visit to an elderly relative. People also really liked seeing the footprints, which we printed at actual size. Most people haven't seen photos, so I think they appreciated seeing something of our boys.

As I've said already, I feel a lot of closure and satisfaction with how the day went overall. It was so, so tough, and I dreaded it going in, but by the end I felt OK. We survived, and were reminded by many that our boys are not forgotten.

Happy First Birthday Asher & Evan

"The sorrow I have from losing you does not overshadow the joy I have from being able to love you." ~ Laura "Schuna" Richert

The Worst Day

A year ago today was maybe the worst day of my life.

The twins were born on the 16th. But I honestly can't say that the day they were born and died was the worst, because it wasn't. It was the day I met them, and despite the tragedy surrounding us I was filled with joy and pride as I held my little babies. It's the one day I held them in my arms. We were blessed to have our parents, my best friend, and our pastor with us, and I know we were bathed in prayer that entire day. So no, it wasn't the worst.

A year ago today, December 14th, was the worst day. It was the day that the doctors stopped sugarcoating things and told us we had to make a decision. I say "decision" but honestly, what kind of a decision is it when the question is "Would you like to die along with your babies, or let them go so you can live?" It was the day reality hit, and I was told in no uncertain terms that our time was up. It was a nightmare. A day that no one should have to live through. I felt like I was in a movie... these things don't happen to real people. As much as I'm used to living this "new normal" on a daily basis, sometimes it still shocks me, as though I am an outsider looking in... oh my GOSH, you lost TWO children!?!?

I've been doing OK so far this week. Thankfully we have plenty going on at work, and holiday preparations, which have kept me busy. I really don't want to sit and relive every moment of my last (mag-induced haze, HGTV-filled, miserable hospital bed-rest) week with them... I relive moments of it every day, as it is. I'm trying not to put any expectations on myself about how I should feel, or what I should or should not do. Just take it as it comes.

I know I'll get through this week, because it's only a finite number of hours long. If I got through the real thing, surely I can get through the memories.

The Beginning of the End

One year ago today, I was admitted to the hospital on a Monday afternoon. I was 21 weeks pregnant, and my blood pressure was 180/120.

I had gone into the clinic over lunch for some lab work, and decided to have the nurse check my BP while I was there, "just in case." Other than crazy swelling I wasn't having any specific symptoms that anything was wrong, but I am a bit of a hypochondriac and thought I would have them check me out for my own peace of mind. I had no idea that my BP would be so high, that the nurse would have me lay down and immediately summon my doctor. No idea that he would tell me to go to the hospital, right now, without returning to work. No idea that I would place a tearful call to my husband to come get me... a call that he will probably never forget.

One year ago today, even as we arrived at the hospital and they gave me a room in Labor & Delivery, I had no idea that it was the beginning of the end. I had an inkling that I might have long weeks of bed rest ahead, and maybe babies in the NICU... I wish I were still blissfully unaware that sometimes babies do, in fact, die.

I am thankful that I will not be admitted to the hospital this afternoon. That I am much healthier and feeling much better than I did that day. But oh, how I miss them today. I hate that I am so busy lately... because I don't have time to deal with all the emotions. I still think about them every day, of course, but I do not have time to rest in these feelings of loss, to fully acknowledge how much I still grieve for them. My brain is so full of so many things.

On another (happier) note, I do have something to share, but I'll save it for another post. Take this as your cue to skip the next one if today isn't a good day for you. I will more than understand!

ETA: I forgot to say thank you to those of you who left helpful comments/encouragement on my last post. I really appreciate it. We're still up in the air about the day, but I am focusing on not making myself feel guilty, whatever we do or don't do.

"Happy" Birthday?

It is 6 pm, and I am still at work. Got here at 8:30. Probably won't leave until at least 6:30. That's the kind of busy I am these days! It leaves little time for anything else, like holiday shopping, blogging, etc. Hopefully soon we will be past our deadline and things will slow down.

I cannot believe that Asher & Evan's birthday is in less than one month.

Sometimes I feel weird using the word "birthday," like it isn't quite right to describe the magnitude of that day. Yes, it is their birthday, but it is also they day they went to Heaven. Sometimes I say "the one-year anniversary of the day the boys were born and died," but that is 1) quite long, and 2) still doesn't quite do it. It is the day I became a mother. It's the day my whole world changed. I need a new word or phrase to describe this day.

I also need to figure out what we're going to do on that day. J and I have the day off of work, and we've discussed going to the hospital to drop of the tiny hats and blankets I've crocheted in their honor. We've also discussed doing some kind of service project. I know that I will need to keep busy, and stay out of the house. But I don't know what I will really need, and how I can truly honor them.

Originally, we thought about ideas involving lots of people... but then I wasn't sure how many people I want to spend the day with. No matter what I would feel like a "host," and I'm not sure I'll be up to that. Anything resembling a party felt awkward, both because of the circumstances, and because of the random group of people we would invite (my divorced parents, random church people, etc). It all started to feel like an awful lot of work and burden for a day that I may just want to be left alone.

But of course, that day isn't about me. It's about them. It's about Asher & Evan, my beautiful firstborn sons, and a celebration of the short time we had with them. It's about remembering, and honoring. It feels wrong not to do something HUGE and momentous for such a momentous day. And yet, I think our celebration/memorial will be fairly low-key.

But I am struggling to be OK with that. I feel like a bad mother because I have nothing planned yet. Because I don't have some great idea. Because work is keeping me too busy to think of much else. Because I would rather be planning a loud, messy, hectic party filled with family, cake, and two adorable one-year-olds.

We do have something in mind... a vague idea of a card commemorating their birthday, along with a prompt to do some kind of good in their name. We would send this to close family and friends, and invite other people to participate, as well. Basically, make their lives have an impact, even though they are not here.

If anyone has any other ideas, I'd love to hear them! I'm sure I'm really worrying too much about it. But as many of you know, it is incredibly difficult to figure out how to parent children who are in Heaven, when you are still on Earth.

11 Months

Today marks 11 months since Asher & Evan were born and died. The day kind of snuck up on me, and then hit me like a pile of bricks. I can't believe it's been 11 months. In some ways it feels like just a few days. In other ways it feels like a lifetime. I am a different person than I was that day, and yet here I am at about the same place. Same job, same house, same weather... different heart.

I know I posted this song once before, but it came on my Pan.dora station today and it gets me every time. I can't listen to this song without crying. It's one of those songs that (obviously) is not about losing a child, and yet, it seems to speak right to my situation. Oh, how my heart aches for them.


"The Scientist" by Coldplay

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart.

Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions,
Oh lets go back to the start.
Running in circles, Comin' in tails
Heads on a science apart.

Nobody said it was easy,
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be this hard.

Oh take me back to the start.

I was just guessin' at numbers and figures,
Pulling the puzzles apart.
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart.

And tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start.
Runnin' in circles, Chasin' tails
Comin' back as we are

Nobody said it was easy,
Oh it's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard.

I'm goin' back to the start.

This Ache (ttc)

So far, fall has been kinda rough for me. I am feeling such opposing emotions all the time, and it's wearing me thin.

By now last year we knew it was twins, and all our families knew. I don't know exactly what week I would have been. I am purposely not figuring it out. My grief most often takes the form of a deep ache. So deep that it feels like it's coming from something outside of me, like something is dragging me down to the center of the earth (cue John Mayer's song "Gravity"... maybe that's why I like that song??).

I am at a loss for words on a regular basis. I've lost the ability to precisely describe anything, let alone my emotions.

And at the same time, there is hope of things to come. Hope of the future, and new beginnings, and another try. And while I am incredibly happy to be at this point, I am sad that we have to be. It's the ultimate happy/sad experience.

The last time I spoke to my mom on the phone (just a brief call to check in) we chatted for a bit, and I was distracted because I was at work. Toward the end of the call she said, "Well, anything else exciting going on?" and there was this pause as her words hung in the air. I wonder how much my family wonders when we'll be pregnant again (we're pretty private about our plans IRL). "Nope, just working," I replied. Nothing exciting going on yet. Maybe there will be soon.

P.S. I've been thinking about this blog lately, and am considering going private again. Of course, any babyloss moms that read would be welcome, and anyone else outside of my family/close friends.

I think I need some new clothes

The weather turned suddenly to fall this morning, with a strong wind and crisp air. Minnesota doesn’t mess around with changing seasons! Time for fall clothes, even. I don’t have a very large wardrobe so am thankful for the opportunity to wear more long sleeves.

I stare into my closet, mentally sorting through my options. I select a brown shirt that I bought last fall from Old Navy. Kind of a loose, blousy style. Haven't worn this in a while. As I pad around the bedroom in my slippers and robe (put on at the first sign of a chill) assembling the rest of my outfit, I start to feel very disoriented. Fall always makes me nostalgic, but now I am thinking to this time last year. This time last year I was almost 8 weeks pregnant. This time last year we were about to visit J’s family and share our news.

This time last year I went shopping at Old Navy to find some clothes to ease me into pregnancy. Not maternity clothes, but styles loose enough to hide my stomach until I was ready to spill the beans at work.

This time last year I was padding around the bedroom in my robe, thinking of the new life inside of me. Feeling so hopeful and overjoyed. We didn’t even know it was twins yet. This time last year I bought this brown shirt.

I put the shirt back in the closet.

Instead, I am wearing a shirt I bought after my pregnancy. Also purchased to hide my stomach. I am somewhat cheered to see how much better I look in the shirt than I did in February, but I can tell fall is going to be rough. So many memories of last year. Every memory of pregnancy is the absolute definition of bittersweet. We were so, so happy. We had no idea what was to come.

A Long, Random Post on a Friday Evening

I received three comments yesterday when I posted a link to the August 19th Day of Hope site. Two of them I appreciated very much, but the first one pictured above gave me a weird reaction. It's from a close family member who is normally very thoughtful and careful about communication.

When I think of Evan and Asher, I get sad.

I'm sure she meant it in the best way possible, but it honestly put me in a funk from the time I read it. Like, "Yeah, and...?" Does she avoid thinking of Asher & Evan because they make her sad? Is she saying I shouldn't have brought this up because it's sad?

I was very confused by her comment, especially because she is someone who weighs her words so carefully. Was she trying to empathize? I still don't get it at all.

Also, it makes me so, so sad that my children make people sad. I don't need anyone to remind me that it is a sad subject. I have spent more than enough hours sobbing to be well aware. In fact, I spend a great deal of energy trying to remember of them in ways that are less sad. I also don't need anyone to remind me that my speaking of the boys makes people uncomfortable. I am keenly aware that it makes people uncomfortable, and I am constantly fighting an internal battle over how often to mention them and what to say. I already weigh every word for fear of causing awkwardness. I hate that I have to worry about that, and I don't feel like I should have to. And so, this comment irritated me. Hmmph.

Well that's my vent for tonight.

:::

This evening has been tough. I've had the whole night to myself. Any time I am alone for some time my grief tends to resurface, especially when I'm at home. The silence is deafening. A constant reminder of what is missing. The sounds and chaos of two baby boys. Sweet baby noises as they sleep. Even the crying that would certainly frustrate me at times. How I wish to hear those things.

When I feel overwhlemed by grief I often cope by going through their things, holding their blenkets and hospital bracelets. But tonight I just did not want to do it. I don't want that stuff, I want them. It's a hole that nothing can fill.

:::

Tomorrow I get to see a friend from out of town and her new baby! I'm excited to meet him, but I know it will be tough. It always is. I hope I can focus on my happiness for her, rather than the ache inside me.

8 months + 1 day

Yesterday was 8 months. 8 months since my boys entered and left this world. 8 months since they changed my life in a matter of minutes. 8 months without.

I'd been thinking of the 16th several days earlier, but yesterday I didn't consciously realize the date until after work. I felt "off" all day, really distracted, but I didn't make the connection until that evening.

Not much new to say. Not much has changed. I miss them. I wish they were here.

Waiting Game (ttc)

I received the results of my labs today, and everything is normal!! This isn’t a huge surprise since they were simply re-running labs from when I was in the hospital, but it’s a nice assurance. Full speed ahead to Baby #3! Yipes!

I am really so excited to move forward, but I’ve felt really odd the past few days. I feel like I’m in limbo...moving forward, yet being pulled back at the same time. Part of it is the timing—today is 2 days from when I found out I was pregnant last year. So I’m feeling a definite sense of déjà vu. Part of it is the feeling of moving forward, yet not being “finished” with the last pregnancy. The pregnancy ended, of course, but not in the way I expected, so it feels unfinished. I don’t expect to feel totally resolved in my grief for a long time, and I’m not waiting on ttc for that. Emotionally, I am in a good place to move ahead, but I still grieve and miss Asher & Evan deeply.

I just did some pregnancy math, since today is CD1… if I got pregnant this month, I would be due May 13th. And—my heart skipped a beat—the baby would reach viability on my birthday, January 20th. Oh how I hope and pray that we make it that far.

It’s a very slow afternoon at work, so I have a lot of time to think. I am so anxious to get started and get pregnant, but at the same time I have so many unanswered questions. I guess that’s how it’s going to be. A waiting game from here until (hopefully) we have a healthy baby in our arms.

Ultrasound

I had an ultrasound on my thyroid this morning. The exam itself was unremarkable. The hardest part was that it took place in the same room where we had our first ultrasound with the boys. This was the exam where we discovered that there were two of them! I will never forget that day. I remember the shocked grins on our faces, the excited disbelief, and J saying, "Well, you and the babies have a good day at work!" as we parted ways after the appointment.

I can still picture that first ultrasound image in my head, although I haven't seen it in months. It is one of the cutest things I have ever seen—my two little jelly bean babies just starting to grow. That day at work was agonizing, because I was only 9 weeks along and hadn't told anyone the news. I sat at my desk grinning at my computer screen the whole day, trying desperately to focus on my work. It took a few days before the news really sunk in.

We had only one ultrasound in this room because we switched to a high-risk doctor after that point, so the room is particularly significant to me. It brought back all kinds of memories I hadn't anticipated. Funny how the simplest things are complicated now, especially when it comes to doctor's visits.

Happy/sad.

It's the Little Things: Observations on Grief at 6 Months

The other day I was working on the layout of a book for preteen boys. The boy in the story had just asked a girl to a dance for the first time, and felt anxious about the upcoming date. Eventually the boy went to his dad for advice. The father gave his son tips on how to dance, suggested where to eat, and said Mom would help him pick out a shirt and tie to wear.

I alternately laughed at the boy's nervous thoughts and teared up at the admittedly cheesy story. At 6 months out, this is how my grief looks. My feelings alternate between wistful, sweet remembrance, and deep, aching sadness. I am caught off guard by the little things, new realizations of what I've missed and will be missing out on. I will never help them pick out an outfit for a dance. I will never watch admiringly as their father gives them advice on how to treat a girl. I will never snuggle both of them in my lap for a story. I could go on and on about the things I will not experience. But I try not to stay in that place too long.

At 6 months out I still think of, remember, and miss my boys every single day. Usually several times each day. If they aren't my first thought upon waking, I'll think of them as I shower or pass by the nursery. I think of them when I take a break at work, when I see a bright blue sky, when I feel joy.

The ache of missing Asher & Evan is less often an all-consuming, drowning feeling. More often it's a constant, deep ache. I imagine it's much like having chronic pain or a missing limb. That ache will never go away, but as time goes on I am learning how to live with it. The ache is becoming a part of me, rather than defining me.

I am starting to be able to enjoy babies again. It depends on the day.

I still feel a knot in the pit of my stomach when a friend announces her pregnancy.

We are thinking more seriously about trying again. The fact that I can even consider the idea and look ahead makes me realize how far we've come over the last 6 months.

Sometimes the grief surges up and overtakes me with a fresh wave of pain. These are the times when I go back to their blankets and photos, and just sit and cry. I cry because I'm so, so sorry all their belongings fit in one small box. And I would do anything to have them back. At 6 months, 6 years, or 6 decades, that will never change.

At 6 months out, my happy memories of my pregnancy and Asher & Evan have increased. I am able to smile more often than cry when I see their pictures. Slowly, very slowly, the rawness of grief is becoming secondary to the deep feelings of love.

Father's Day

We celebrated Father's Day yesterday with my dad and family in the small town where they live. The town was devastated last week by a tornado, so we almost weren't able to make the trip. Thankfully my family is fine, their house is fine, and the Na.tional Gu.ard moved the borders of the disaster area just enough to allow us to reach their house.

J and I had our own little celebration yesterday morning with a card from me, and a Li.sa Leo.nard bracelet (do they call leather armbands for guys "bracelets?" I don't know.) personalized with Asher & Evan's names. I also picked out some cologne for him. I hope he felt recognized and appreciated as a father. I've always known he would be a great dad, and he's shown that to be true. He was fiercely protective of me and the boys while I was pregnant, and has shown such amazing devotion to his family. Our road to parenthood has been incredibly difficult, but he is walking it with strength and courage.

It broke my heart yesterday, though, that no one else acknowledged his fatherhood. I hadn't expected much, since only my mom and a couple close girlfriends said anything to me on Mother's Day. But I'd hoped for something. My own father was saying "Happy Father's Day!" to strangers, but didn't say anything to J.

I know that people just don't know what to say, and that everyone was thinking about it. But sometimes I get angry, and sick of giving others the benefit of the doubt. I guess I feel selfish, like other people should suck it up and do the uncomfortable thing for our sakes. I feel so defensive and protective of our status as parents, and I shouldn't have to feel that way.

As time goes on I'm sure I will feel more comfortable with our unconventional role as parents, and how to acknowledge it with others. We know we are parents, and our babies certainly know that, so that's all that matters. I am proud and thankful to be their mom, as I know J is proud to be their dad, and we'll celebrate that fact even if no one else does!

6 months

Yesterday marked 6 months since my baby boys entered and left this world.

It seems like a very big milestone to reach. Asher and Evan have now been gone longer than I was pregnant with them. (Technically that date passed a couple weeks ago, but I really feel it at the 6-month mark, because I was so close.)

More and more I've been struck by how much the world has moved on. I have moved forward a lot, but I still think of them, miss them, remember them on a daily basis. December 16th still feels like only a few weeks ago. I can recall details of those days in the hospital with perfect clarity. And then I realize it is summer now, and am struck by how much time has passed in "the real world." It's a different season, a different year. My loss is still at the forefront of my mind every day, and I have to remind myself that for others, it's something that happened to me "a while ago." How odd that people can operate on such different scales of time.

I hope to post later about what my grief looks like at 6 months out. And I hope to write a letter to my boys. But for now I just have to say I can't believe it's 6 months long since I held them. And I wish they were here.

Happy Friday and Feeling In-Between

This week, but especially today, has flown by at work. We are so, so busy. I haven't had much time to think about anything other than work. EXCEPT our upcoming garage sale! We're having a garage sale all day tomorrow, and I am nerdily excited about it. I just love getting rid of stuff, and actively trying not to be a pack rat. It won't be a huge sale, because there's only two of us, but it is amazing how much stuff one couple can accumulate in a short time. I will feel better to have less of it in our house. And it will be kinda fun to have an excuse to sit around outside all day.

I've been thinking about many things, but haven't been taking the time to write about them lately. Well, part of it is time, part of it is that I catch myself thinking, "Have I written about that already?" I feel like a broken record sometimes, in this grief journey. I mean, I can only describe my grief with so many metaphors before even I get tired of reading. At the same time, this blog exists for that very purpose, and so I don't explode IRL from holding in my feelings. I feel like I'm in an odd state of limbo with my emotions. Half the time I feel pretty OK and normal-ish, and half the time I find myself wondering how much longer I have to put up with this. I am trying to be gentle with myself, but it's hard. I am impatient. I am restless. I am uncomfortable in my current position in life. Half the time I'm being gentle and allowing myself to just be, and the other half I'm yelling at myself "Will you just snap out of it and LIVE already??"

There seems to be a delicate balance of learning to live in this state. Something for me to ponder this weekend, while I sit outside and hope people buy our stuff.