I just wanted to share what I posted on You are my Child's blog today...
http://www.youaremychild.blogspot.com/2012/04/first-memory-box.html
(It will open in a new window.)
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Post-Op, Part Two
I just read over my last post and noticed I didn't even mention it... "the date". I honestly didn't remember or think about it that day. I don't know whether I'm just getting "used" to the lack of change in the date (as in nothing is going to change or be different) or if it was the drugs (post-surgery)... but Saturday marked 9 months since Nathan was born. I thought about it in the days leading up and again today... but on the actual day, it didn't even register. 9 months... that number seems so significant for some reason. I guess because it's the number of months a woman carries a pregnancy, on average. I guess, technically, I could be getting ready to give birth again. Not sure how that makes me feel. Today, I'm just so "blah" about everything. (Maybe it's the drugs. LOL)
I remember very little from my surgery. I remember the OR nurses talking as they were beginning my IV to "relax" me. Apparently, one was pregnant with baby #2. She was talking about how fragile her husband treated her during her first pregnancy and that she wanted to be treated like that again. She missed him "wining and dining" her during pregnancy. I had a fleeting moment of wanting to tell her to treasure her pregnancy, not to take it for granted. But... I didn't. I held my tongue. For the first time, I didn't feel "bad" about suppressing the need sharing Nathan. It felt like the right thing to do. I guess not everyone needs to know or hear about him. I think I'm slowly transitioning from wanting to tell everyone about him... to choosing who I trust and care enough about and want to share him with.
I remember bits and pieces of waking up from the anesthesia. I remembered the nurse asking me if I was in pain. I remembered hearing something about a baby and then the nurse asking me something about Cameron. I remembered mom sneezing in the car, on the way home. And that is pretty much it... I don't even remember how I got in the car or home. I just woke up in bed, at home.
Mom said I was trying to wake up and the nurse asked mom who would be home with me. She said, "Her husband and baby." (She still calls Cameron my baby.) I guess this must be the part where I remember hearing about a baby. Mom said I half woke up and started looking around and said, "I had a baby? Where's my baby?" Then the nurse told me that I didn't have a baby. Mom said I started crying but she got me to calm down and the nurse was asking me about Cameron, how old he was, etc. She said I dozed back off and the she explained to the nurse that I had just lost a baby almost 9 months ago. I don't remember that but mom said it broke her heart because she knew where my mind was going.
The surgery went okay, I guess. I haven't spoke to my OB yet... and trying to get mom to decipher what was said is a lost cause. LOL. My 2-week post op is scheduled for May 2nd. Mom did say that he said the damage was more than he thought it was going to be. She said he took pictures and would explain them and give me copies at my post-op. Apparently, my tube wasn't just behind my ovary and against the wall... it was wrapped around my ovary. Ouch... no wonder my ovulations have been so painful. She said he was able to get all the polyps and sent them for analysis.
I'm relaxing at home this week since my OB wrote me out of work until Thursday. He doesn't want me lifting anything over 10-15lbs for the first week. I'm secretly glad because I still feel like crap and can't imagine having to go to work today.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Post-Op, Part One
This was what I posted on my Facebook page on Friday...
And boy did I mean it!!! I was so nervous up until right before I went in Thursday. Right before they came and got me, I told my mom that if anything were to happen to me during surgery; I had left a letter for Cameron in his memory box. Mom said, "You'll be fine. I don't smell flowers and haven't in awhile."
Yes, I know that sounds weird but my mom has this scary, freaky ability to "smell death". She never knows who, when, what or where it will happen... she just knows that someone is going to die (usually within the next 2 weeks). She'll smell funeral flowers. The stronger the smell, the closer she is to the person.
I'm not sure how funeral flowers smell different than any other flower... but to her, they have a distinctly different smell. Somehow, just hearing her say that seemed to put my mind as ease. I actually walked into surgery and got on the OR table completely calm. I feel a bit silly, looking back now, but that pre-op fear really got a hold of me.
My pre-op picture, right before walking into the OR.
I'm sitting here on the couch, spoiling my child... allowing him to stay up late. We're chillin' on the couch - me on my laptop and him watching his super heroes (The Avengers) on Daddy's cellphone via Netflix. I love it!!
And boy did I mean it!!! I was so nervous up until right before I went in Thursday. Right before they came and got me, I told my mom that if anything were to happen to me during surgery; I had left a letter for Cameron in his memory box. Mom said, "You'll be fine. I don't smell flowers and haven't in awhile."
Yes, I know that sounds weird but my mom has this scary, freaky ability to "smell death". She never knows who, when, what or where it will happen... she just knows that someone is going to die (usually within the next 2 weeks). She'll smell funeral flowers. The stronger the smell, the closer she is to the person.
I'm not sure how funeral flowers smell different than any other flower... but to her, they have a distinctly different smell. Somehow, just hearing her say that seemed to put my mind as ease. I actually walked into surgery and got on the OR table completely calm. I feel a bit silly, looking back now, but that pre-op fear really got a hold of me.
I'm sitting here on the couch, spoiling my child... allowing him to stay up late. We're chillin' on the couch - me on my laptop and him watching his super heroes (The Avengers) on Daddy's cellphone via Netflix. I love it!!
Above: Mommy trying to be sneaking and grab a picture but he caught me. I got part of
his head. It's hard taking a picture when you can't see what's in the frame. LOL.
Well, I'm going to make this short... I'll update again later.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
The Night Before
Well, it's officially after midnight so I'm banned from eating or drinking anything. I'm going to be so hungry tomorrow!! My surgery isn't scheduled until 2:45pm. :-(
I just ate a corn dog and some Cold Stone ice cream and milk right before midnight. I'm praying everything goes well because that is so not what I would've chosen for a last meal. I'm trying to add some humor because this fear is new and that fact that I can't shake it, has me on edge. I've never been scared, like this, going into surgery.
I even posted this to my birth club board tonight...
On one of my support boards, a mama is trying to find a supportive, positive group for her rainbow pregnancy. (A baby or pregnancy after a loss, for those who don't know what a rainbow baby or pregnancy is.) I can only imagine how difficult it would be to still be daily/actively involved in a loss support group while trying to "get over" the fear of a new pregnancy and trying to stay hopeful and positive about a happy outcome. We were all discussing our "other" support boards for loss, raising living children, etc. Typing my reply, really made me stop and think about the impact this group... you ladies... have had on my life. Going in for my surgery tomorrow, I've had some fear and hesitation. Something I've never experienced at any other time in my life, not even during any other surgeries, which has me a bit on edge. I wanted to take a moment and share what I put on there and thank you all for being such a great support to me over the years!
"I'm sorry you're having a hard time finding a place, Robin. I was SO amazingly blessed to stumble upon my birth club when I first got pregnant with my first son. About 50 of us moved from the public board to a private board and have been online friends ever since. Many of us have met in person, even though we all live all over the country (a few outside of the country). Last year, they started a Mama Meetup. They met in Vegas for a weekend last year and this year they are going on a cruise. (I'm so jealous!! Next year, I'm vowing to sell body parts and find a way go! LOL) We do Christmas and birthday exchanges, etc. When I got pregnant with Nathan, I never joined another birth club. My Feb08 Mamas have been with me through EVERYTHING! Other than my mom and my husband, they were the first ones to know when I lost Nathan. One of the girls stayed online with me for hours, that night, at the hospital while I was in labor. Many of them texted me through the night with prayers and positive messages of love. We have helped each other raise multiple children since, gone through divorces, celebrated new marriages, mourned deaths, etc. Many of them have experienced loss... several in the 2nd trimester, like me. Two years ago, one of our sweet boys died. He was 2 years old. It was heart wrenching for all of us! My heart literally hurt and I was in so much pain when I heard about it. We all cried for weeks and mourned with his mama. I can honestly say, those women have been my saving grace over the years and I'm closer to them than I am to some of my family. I wish everyone were as blessed to find that kind of support online!"
When I called Cameron last night on my last break to tell him good night, I had to get kinda snappy because he wouldn't let me go. I had to go so I wouldn't be late getting back. After about the 4th time of me saying, "Cameron, I have to go." He let out a big sigh and said, "Okay, mama. I just wanted to talk to you. I don't get to talk to you."
Okay... yeah, he ripped my heart out. I cried the whole way through the building, back to work. So last night, as I was getting ready to leave (yet another fun-filled 11-hour shift - note the sarcasm) I stopped and looked at the vacation book. Just my luck, there was 1 spot left. I filled out the request form and took the day off. I took him to preschool this morning, picked him afterwards and let him choose where we ate lunch. (He chose Biscuitville.) Then I told him that we were going to find a surprise! We drove out to Winston and went to SciWorks. We had a good time... just hanging out! On the way home, we stopped for Cold Stone ice cream and ate it BEFORE dinner! :-)
We spent a good portion of the night playing in his room with his kitchen set and just hanging out together. It felt good just being with him and soaking up those moments. Of course, all day I've thought about this being my "last day". As I put him to bed tonight, I prayed to God that I'm able to do it again tomorrow night. That boy will never understand or know how much I love him and how amazing he makes my life! My husband gave me the best gift in the world when he gave me our boys.
I'm sitting here in tears because this fear is eating me up. I've been so close to just canceling the surgery so many times today. I've heard that song "Live Like You Were Dying" (or whatever the name is) but it's always been just a song. Today, it took on a whole new meaning. We get so caught up in the day to day... we're too busy and distracted to see just how precious life is sometimes. It makes you stop and think, "What would I do differently if I knew it was my last day alive?"
Well, I'm signing off and praying that I can get some sleep tonight. Send some prayers and positive vibes my way... because I sure need them. Not to be negative or depressing, but if something should go wrong... I'll see ya'll on the other side. I'll be easy to spot...
I'll be the smiling girl holding a precious baby boy.
I just ate a corn dog and some Cold Stone ice cream and milk right before midnight. I'm praying everything goes well because that is so not what I would've chosen for a last meal. I'm trying to add some humor because this fear is new and that fact that I can't shake it, has me on edge. I've never been scared, like this, going into surgery.
I even posted this to my birth club board tonight...
On one of my support boards, a mama is trying to find a supportive, positive group for her rainbow pregnancy. (A baby or pregnancy after a loss, for those who don't know what a rainbow baby or pregnancy is.) I can only imagine how difficult it would be to still be daily/actively involved in a loss support group while trying to "get over" the fear of a new pregnancy and trying to stay hopeful and positive about a happy outcome. We were all discussing our "other" support boards for loss, raising living children, etc. Typing my reply, really made me stop and think about the impact this group... you ladies... have had on my life. Going in for my surgery tomorrow, I've had some fear and hesitation. Something I've never experienced at any other time in my life, not even during any other surgeries, which has me a bit on edge. I wanted to take a moment and share what I put on there and thank you all for being such a great support to me over the years!
"I'm sorry you're having a hard time finding a place, Robin. I was SO amazingly blessed to stumble upon my birth club when I first got pregnant with my first son. About 50 of us moved from the public board to a private board and have been online friends ever since. Many of us have met in person, even though we all live all over the country (a few outside of the country). Last year, they started a Mama Meetup. They met in Vegas for a weekend last year and this year they are going on a cruise. (I'm so jealous!! Next year, I'm vowing to sell body parts and find a way go! LOL) We do Christmas and birthday exchanges, etc. When I got pregnant with Nathan, I never joined another birth club. My Feb08 Mamas have been with me through EVERYTHING! Other than my mom and my husband, they were the first ones to know when I lost Nathan. One of the girls stayed online with me for hours, that night, at the hospital while I was in labor. Many of them texted me through the night with prayers and positive messages of love. We have helped each other raise multiple children since, gone through divorces, celebrated new marriages, mourned deaths, etc. Many of them have experienced loss... several in the 2nd trimester, like me. Two years ago, one of our sweet boys died. He was 2 years old. It was heart wrenching for all of us! My heart literally hurt and I was in so much pain when I heard about it. We all cried for weeks and mourned with his mama. I can honestly say, those women have been my saving grace over the years and I'm closer to them than I am to some of my family. I wish everyone were as blessed to find that kind of support online!"
When I called Cameron last night on my last break to tell him good night, I had to get kinda snappy because he wouldn't let me go. I had to go so I wouldn't be late getting back. After about the 4th time of me saying, "Cameron, I have to go." He let out a big sigh and said, "Okay, mama. I just wanted to talk to you. I don't get to talk to you."
Okay... yeah, he ripped my heart out. I cried the whole way through the building, back to work. So last night, as I was getting ready to leave (yet another fun-filled 11-hour shift - note the sarcasm) I stopped and looked at the vacation book. Just my luck, there was 1 spot left. I filled out the request form and took the day off. I took him to preschool this morning, picked him afterwards and let him choose where we ate lunch. (He chose Biscuitville.) Then I told him that we were going to find a surprise! We drove out to Winston and went to SciWorks. We had a good time... just hanging out! On the way home, we stopped for Cold Stone ice cream and ate it BEFORE dinner! :-)
We spent a good portion of the night playing in his room with his kitchen set and just hanging out together. It felt good just being with him and soaking up those moments. Of course, all day I've thought about this being my "last day". As I put him to bed tonight, I prayed to God that I'm able to do it again tomorrow night. That boy will never understand or know how much I love him and how amazing he makes my life! My husband gave me the best gift in the world when he gave me our boys.
I'm sitting here in tears because this fear is eating me up. I've been so close to just canceling the surgery so many times today. I've heard that song "Live Like You Were Dying" (or whatever the name is) but it's always been just a song. Today, it took on a whole new meaning. We get so caught up in the day to day... we're too busy and distracted to see just how precious life is sometimes. It makes you stop and think, "What would I do differently if I knew it was my last day alive?"
Well, I'm signing off and praying that I can get some sleep tonight. Send some prayers and positive vibes my way... because I sure need them. Not to be negative or depressing, but if something should go wrong... I'll see ya'll on the other side. I'll be easy to spot...
I'll be the smiling girl holding a precious baby boy.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Fears of Goodbye
I've never really thought about my death. Of course, when the time comes... I hope it is as painless and quick as possible. I mean, who would wish for a long, painful death? Other than that, I've never really given it much thought. I've never been the type of person to think about a will or pre-planning my funeral. Today, however, it's been on my mind... which kinda bothers me and leaves me feeling very unsettled.
I've never been scared anytime I've ever had surgery or had to go under anesthesia before... so I can only attribute this new "fear" to the fact that I'm a mom now. (All my surgeries were done before I became a mom.) I had no fears or thoughts about flying... until I became a mom. I remember when Cameron and I flew to my brother's funeral in Ohio. We were sitting in the plane, waiting to taxi down the runway, and I remember holding him tight in my lap and tears streaming down my face. (Cameron was about a year and a half old so he could fly free on my lap.) All I could think was, 'If this plane crashes, Allen is going to lose us both.' Allen was NOT very happy with the idea of Cameron flying with me... especially since he (Allen) had never flown. I knew I wasn't going without him though. As selfish as it sounds, if I was going to die on that plane... Cameron was going to be with me. (Oh, Lord... that sounds horrible doesn't it?!?!) I just can't imagine my life without him. As much as that thought hurts... I can't imagine his life without me. I'm his mama. Nobody could ever love he like me... teach him the things I want to teach him. I can't picture someone else raising him, loving him, being his mama.
I know if something were to happen to me that he would be fine. I mean, kids grow up everyday without a parent (sometimes without both parents). Allen is a great dad and I know he would raise Cameron just fine without me. But still... it hurts to picture my baby boy missing me and not understanding why I "left him".
My surgery is this coming Thursday, so I know I don't have time to do everything I want to do. I remember reading in a book about a mom, who was a flight attendant. She knew that there was a chance that one day she wouldn't make it home. Every year, on her son's birthday, she would write him a "goodbye letter" with the hope and prayer that he'd never had to read it. She would tell him all about how proud she was of him and what her hopes and dreams were for his future. She would write a new letter each year and place it in her fire safe. She was a single mom but her friends knew about the letters and what to do if she died. Her plane crashed in the ocean, on a flight to Hawaii, when her son was 8, I think.
It got me thinking... how do you write a goodbye letter to the people you love? How can you possibly try write a lifetime of thoughts, wishes and love into a letter? I'm thinking I might try.
Even if everything goes great with my surgery (which I hope and pray it does)... my "one day" will come. Death isn't like waiting at the DMV. You don't take a ticket with a number. You can't hear the number called out and know that you are 40 people down the line... with a certain amount of time left. We are all here for a certain amount of time and can be called home at any moment, on any given day. It's easy to get caught up in the day to day stuff like work, school and other "obligations". Some days it's really, really hard to stop and soak in the moments. I would love to spend all of my time with Cameron but the sad fact is... I have to pay the mortgage, lights and buy groceries also. I'm a working mom and some days it sucks. However, I hope that I'm instilling in Cameron a good work ethic and a sense of responsibility. I hope he knows that everything I do is for him... to provide him with things and opportunities to make his life better.
I'm getting nervous about Thursday. All I can do is pray that everything goes as planned, I'm able wake up from surgery and able to continue watching Cameron grow up. If not and it's my time, then I pray with everything in me... that my little boy will know how much he means to me. I hope that his Daddy raises him to be a good, honest and loving man. I hope that he knows that HE is what made my life worth living and that I loved him with everything in me, until the day I died.
I've never been scared anytime I've ever had surgery or had to go under anesthesia before... so I can only attribute this new "fear" to the fact that I'm a mom now. (All my surgeries were done before I became a mom.) I had no fears or thoughts about flying... until I became a mom. I remember when Cameron and I flew to my brother's funeral in Ohio. We were sitting in the plane, waiting to taxi down the runway, and I remember holding him tight in my lap and tears streaming down my face. (Cameron was about a year and a half old so he could fly free on my lap.) All I could think was, 'If this plane crashes, Allen is going to lose us both.' Allen was NOT very happy with the idea of Cameron flying with me... especially since he (Allen) had never flown. I knew I wasn't going without him though. As selfish as it sounds, if I was going to die on that plane... Cameron was going to be with me. (Oh, Lord... that sounds horrible doesn't it?!?!) I just can't imagine my life without him. As much as that thought hurts... I can't imagine his life without me. I'm his mama. Nobody could ever love he like me... teach him the things I want to teach him. I can't picture someone else raising him, loving him, being his mama.
I know if something were to happen to me that he would be fine. I mean, kids grow up everyday without a parent (sometimes without both parents). Allen is a great dad and I know he would raise Cameron just fine without me. But still... it hurts to picture my baby boy missing me and not understanding why I "left him".
My surgery is this coming Thursday, so I know I don't have time to do everything I want to do. I remember reading in a book about a mom, who was a flight attendant. She knew that there was a chance that one day she wouldn't make it home. Every year, on her son's birthday, she would write him a "goodbye letter" with the hope and prayer that he'd never had to read it. She would tell him all about how proud she was of him and what her hopes and dreams were for his future. She would write a new letter each year and place it in her fire safe. She was a single mom but her friends knew about the letters and what to do if she died. Her plane crashed in the ocean, on a flight to Hawaii, when her son was 8, I think.
It got me thinking... how do you write a goodbye letter to the people you love? How can you possibly try write a lifetime of thoughts, wishes and love into a letter? I'm thinking I might try.
Even if everything goes great with my surgery (which I hope and pray it does)... my "one day" will come. Death isn't like waiting at the DMV. You don't take a ticket with a number. You can't hear the number called out and know that you are 40 people down the line... with a certain amount of time left. We are all here for a certain amount of time and can be called home at any moment, on any given day. It's easy to get caught up in the day to day stuff like work, school and other "obligations". Some days it's really, really hard to stop and soak in the moments. I would love to spend all of my time with Cameron but the sad fact is... I have to pay the mortgage, lights and buy groceries also. I'm a working mom and some days it sucks. However, I hope that I'm instilling in Cameron a good work ethic and a sense of responsibility. I hope he knows that everything I do is for him... to provide him with things and opportunities to make his life better.
I'm getting nervous about Thursday. All I can do is pray that everything goes as planned, I'm able wake up from surgery and able to continue watching Cameron grow up. If not and it's my time, then I pray with everything in me... that my little boy will know how much he means to me. I hope that his Daddy raises him to be a good, honest and loving man. I hope that he knows that HE is what made my life worth living and that I loved him with everything in me, until the day I died.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Pre-Op
Facebook status for today: I survived a waiting room full of pregnant women, got my blood work done (negative pregnancy test), $1,425 down payment = surgery pre-op done. (It was hard but I actually made it out of the OB's office without crying for the first time since last July.) Now, I just countdown to next Thursday and see what happens. Today, I needed a good reminder (and a good cry) that I was blessed even though the journey was short lived. Mommy loves you, little man! I thank God everyday that I was blessed to carry you all of your life. ♥
It was tough and I had to fight the tears a couple times but I did it... I made it through an OB visit without crying. Two ladies were talking in the waiting room (both pregnant with boys, I overheard). They were talking with an older lady there (who I overheard has 2 grown daughters) about just general pregnancy stuff. Part of me wanted them to ask me about my kids (I had Cameron with me) but then part of me was glad that they ignored me. One of the ladies was a first time mom and I just don't think I could've talked like Nathan didn't exist but I wouldn't want to scare her or give her a glimpse of a bad experience either.
I still remember the day I was "one of them". Just a normal day but... not normal at all. I sat in that waiting room pregnant and I remember thinking how great is was to be there and how wonderful my life was. I still remember what I was wearing: a Ronald McDonald house t-shirt and jeans. I remember Cameron playing with his Mr. Potato Heads. I remember the two cute (but obnoxious) little boys who walked over and helped themselves to his toys. I remember the very pregnant mama, who tried (not very hard) to get them to come back to her and leave us alone. That waiting room will never be the same place for me again. I think I left a part of myself in that waiting room and I have no idea how to get her back... or if I can even get her back. It like I'm still waiting there... waiting for my life to make sense, to understand what went wrong. I think even Cameron senses the change in that room. Today, as we were sitting there... I noticed him watching a little girl and her mom (who was very pregnant). Just the way he looked at the mom, it was like his wheels were turning but I don't know what he was thinking. I asked him what was wrong, if he was okay. He just laid his head against me and gave me a hug. I told him that he could talk to me about anything he was feeling or thinking. I told him that I understood... it made me a little sad to be there also.
It's so hard to go through this. I try so very hard not to project my emotions onto him or anyone else around me. I don't want attention or a pity party. I don't need people to feel sorry for me. People tell me that I'm brave and strong. Oh, how I wish I was. I feel so weak and lost. I'm doing my best to learn how to live this new life that I've been given. I mean, they don't give you a manual that explains how to continue living when your baby dies. You just have to wing it. Some days I feel like I'm doing it "right" and some days... I feel like a total failure.
I got my blood work done and it was so sweet... Cameron said he'd hold my hand. As she went to stick the needle in, he started patting my hand and said, "It's okay mama... it's okay." Man, I sure do love that boy! She told me that I could have the pregnancy test results if I wanted to wait about 5 minutes. I had to go and arrange payment, insurance information and all that... so I told her I'd be back. I walked back in and told her that I was back for my results. She said it was negative. I tried to smile as I said, "I figured it would be." I just turned around and walked out. I knew if I stayed, I'd break... I'd cry. I knew it would be negative but there was part of me that had a moment of sadness and disappointment when she said it. I'll probably test again, at home, the morning of the surgery... just because.
I watched the video behind the song and oh, my... tears!!! While I wish no parent had to lose a child, I can't imagine a more precious gift than to have the time to process and plan for those once in a lifetime moments... to have the chance to tell your baby the things you want to tell them, to hold them, to take in those few precious moments of having them in your life. To have the honor and privilege to be there as they enter the world and when they leave it... to know that your baby felt your love the whole time.
Part one:
Part two:
Part three:
Part of me still grieves for the birth experience I wish I'd had with Nathan. I'm still so bitter sometimes about what was taken from he and I. (I think a part of me always will be.) I wish I'd been able to bring him into the world and had the moments the Smith family had. I don't think carrying him longer would have made any difference in how much he was missed or how painful it would have been. I have this image... this "movie" in my head of how I wish things had gone. I think I'll always wonder what might have been... how different this experience could've been if things had been different. If he'd been a few weeks older, if Allen had been with me, if we'd been able to dress him, get footprints, have something he touched, had family there to love him with us... and on and on...
I still remember the day I was "one of them". Just a normal day but... not normal at all. I sat in that waiting room pregnant and I remember thinking how great is was to be there and how wonderful my life was. I still remember what I was wearing: a Ronald McDonald house t-shirt and jeans. I remember Cameron playing with his Mr. Potato Heads. I remember the two cute (but obnoxious) little boys who walked over and helped themselves to his toys. I remember the very pregnant mama, who tried (not very hard) to get them to come back to her and leave us alone. That waiting room will never be the same place for me again. I think I left a part of myself in that waiting room and I have no idea how to get her back... or if I can even get her back. It like I'm still waiting there... waiting for my life to make sense, to understand what went wrong. I think even Cameron senses the change in that room. Today, as we were sitting there... I noticed him watching a little girl and her mom (who was very pregnant). Just the way he looked at the mom, it was like his wheels were turning but I don't know what he was thinking. I asked him what was wrong, if he was okay. He just laid his head against me and gave me a hug. I told him that he could talk to me about anything he was feeling or thinking. I told him that I understood... it made me a little sad to be there also.
It's so hard to go through this. I try so very hard not to project my emotions onto him or anyone else around me. I don't want attention or a pity party. I don't need people to feel sorry for me. People tell me that I'm brave and strong. Oh, how I wish I was. I feel so weak and lost. I'm doing my best to learn how to live this new life that I've been given. I mean, they don't give you a manual that explains how to continue living when your baby dies. You just have to wing it. Some days I feel like I'm doing it "right" and some days... I feel like a total failure.
I got my blood work done and it was so sweet... Cameron said he'd hold my hand. As she went to stick the needle in, he started patting my hand and said, "It's okay mama... it's okay." Man, I sure do love that boy! She told me that I could have the pregnancy test results if I wanted to wait about 5 minutes. I had to go and arrange payment, insurance information and all that... so I told her I'd be back. I walked back in and told her that I was back for my results. She said it was negative. I tried to smile as I said, "I figured it would be." I just turned around and walked out. I knew if I stayed, I'd break... I'd cry. I knew it would be negative but there was part of me that had a moment of sadness and disappointment when she said it. I'll probably test again, at home, the morning of the surgery... just because.
I watched the video behind the song and oh, my... tears!!! While I wish no parent had to lose a child, I can't imagine a more precious gift than to have the time to process and plan for those once in a lifetime moments... to have the chance to tell your baby the things you want to tell them, to hold them, to take in those few precious moments of having them in your life. To have the honor and privilege to be there as they enter the world and when they leave it... to know that your baby felt your love the whole time.
Part one:
Part two:
Part three:
Part of me still grieves for the birth experience I wish I'd had with Nathan. I'm still so bitter sometimes about what was taken from he and I. (I think a part of me always will be.) I wish I'd been able to bring him into the world and had the moments the Smith family had. I don't think carrying him longer would have made any difference in how much he was missed or how painful it would have been. I have this image... this "movie" in my head of how I wish things had gone. I think I'll always wonder what might have been... how different this experience could've been if things had been different. If he'd been a few weeks older, if Allen had been with me, if we'd been able to dress him, get footprints, have something he touched, had family there to love him with us... and on and on...
Monday, April 9, 2012
Pictures
It dawned on me today, that I never got Cameron's birthday pictures posted. Whoops...
(There is a back, play and forward button at the bottom, if you scroll over the picture.)
(There is a back, play and forward button at the bottom, if you scroll over the picture.)
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Fading Memories
Back in December, I emailed Dana (Pencil Portraits by Dana) to see about getting on her waiting list for a sketch. (She does beautiful memorial and gestational sketches.) By the time she got to me, I didn't have the money. I still don't but I'm going to use the birthday money from my dad and mom to get it.
Dana sent me an email stating that she'd add me to the list again and that she'd be happy to sent me a price quote up front. I got all the pictures of me, Allen and Cameron for her to use and sat down to write her an email the details I remember about Nathan (since I don't have a picture).
Here are the pictures I sent her. (https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3475589405712.2150797.1150508015&type=3&l=b0565106c9)
It's weird because I don't really remember seeing him… only "snapshots" of him. I can't for the life of me, just picture his entire body... just a single memory of all of him. Its like my brain has completely blocked that part of my experience… actually holding him and looking at him. I cried this morning when I sat down to write her back because my mind is blank. The details that I once remembered, so clearly, are fading. I knew it would happen, I just wasn't prepared for it to happen so soon. How does a mama forget what her child looks like? How could I allow that to happen? I close my eyes and try so hard to will them… and it's frustrating because they are there… I just can't reach them. Its like having someone's name on the tip of your tongue but you just can't quite get it out... if that makes sense.
I remember the first few months, I would lay in bed at night and pray for the images to leave my mind so I could just sleep. I just needed to sleep and forget it all... just for those few hours. Now, I'm overwhelmed with guilt because I feel like I've gotten what I asked for... only it isn't what I meant... what I want. Now, I pray to see him in my dreams... just so I can remember how perfectly precious and tiny he was. But I can't. I've yet to wake up feeling refreshed or peaceful. I've yet to experience that awesome feeling of meeting my child in my dreams. I've heard about many other baby loss parents who've experienced those dreams. I'm jealous. Why won't my baby come to me? Did I push him away too many times during those first few months? Am I destined to spend the rest of my life looking for him every night when I lay down?
I remember looking at his left ear but I can't for the life of me remember seeing his right one. (I think it must have been how I was holding him. The blanket must've covered it, maybe?) It was just a tad bit low. I remember thinking that it must be the last thing to completely "move into place" once his head would've started getting bigger. Everything else was perfectly formed and there… just tiny. I remember looking at his eye structure and nose, thinking of how much he looked like his brother. His eyes were closed… very peaceful looking. I remember his bottom lip being "sucked" in a little. It bothered me because it looked like he suffered. (The cord was wrapped twice around his neck.) I told her that I would prefer a more peaceful look in his sketch. I remember him having a somewhat long, square-shaped chin. I couldn't figure out where he got it from… other than my half-brother having a similar structure. However, when I looked at Cameron's 4th birthday pictures the other week… I dawned on me that he has the same chin/jaw structure. As Cameron gets older, his "baby fat" face is going away and I'm aware of his changing looks. Since Nathan didn't have a chance to develop "baby fat"... I now see the resemblance.
I remember his right arm coming down beside him and going across his stomach. It must've covered his belly button/umbilical cord because I don't remember ever seeing them. His other arm was down by his side. I remember being able to see his little ribs because he didn't have any fat on him yet. I remember being able to tell that he was a boy and in awe of the fact that he was so tiny. It made me wonder how in the world they are able to tell the gender on a fuzzy, black and white, regular, 2-D ultrasound. (Nothing against my baby boy's manhood... I mean, I don't know the average size of little boys at that gestation. I sorta feel like I should take up for him after making that comment. You know how sensitive most guys are about their "parts".) The bottom of his legs looked so skinny and tiny compared to his upper legs. He had skinny calves but "meaty" looking thighs. (Poor kid was already taking after his mama.) ;-)
She asked what kind of sketch I was interested in and send me a link to her gallery. I instantly fell in love with this one...
The baby, on the right, is how I remember Nathan laying... only he was stretched out instead of legs curled up. Instead of his arm being up, it was down by his side. I know that whatever she comes up with won't be "Nathan". I understand that it will simply be an artistic sketch, a representation of him. I lost the chance of having an exact picture of him when I left the hospital. However, I'm hoping and praying that she'll be able to create something that I can look at and have some comfort and peace. I want something that I can share and remember him with. I need something tangible that reminds me that he was real... is real.
Dana sent me an email stating that she'd add me to the list again and that she'd be happy to sent me a price quote up front. I got all the pictures of me, Allen and Cameron for her to use and sat down to write her an email the details I remember about Nathan (since I don't have a picture).
Here are the pictures I sent her. (https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3475589405712.2150797.1150508015&type=3&l=b0565106c9)
It's weird because I don't really remember seeing him… only "snapshots" of him. I can't for the life of me, just picture his entire body... just a single memory of all of him. Its like my brain has completely blocked that part of my experience… actually holding him and looking at him. I cried this morning when I sat down to write her back because my mind is blank. The details that I once remembered, so clearly, are fading. I knew it would happen, I just wasn't prepared for it to happen so soon. How does a mama forget what her child looks like? How could I allow that to happen? I close my eyes and try so hard to will them… and it's frustrating because they are there… I just can't reach them. Its like having someone's name on the tip of your tongue but you just can't quite get it out... if that makes sense.
I remember the first few months, I would lay in bed at night and pray for the images to leave my mind so I could just sleep. I just needed to sleep and forget it all... just for those few hours. Now, I'm overwhelmed with guilt because I feel like I've gotten what I asked for... only it isn't what I meant... what I want. Now, I pray to see him in my dreams... just so I can remember how perfectly precious and tiny he was. But I can't. I've yet to wake up feeling refreshed or peaceful. I've yet to experience that awesome feeling of meeting my child in my dreams. I've heard about many other baby loss parents who've experienced those dreams. I'm jealous. Why won't my baby come to me? Did I push him away too many times during those first few months? Am I destined to spend the rest of my life looking for him every night when I lay down?
I remember looking at his left ear but I can't for the life of me remember seeing his right one. (I think it must have been how I was holding him. The blanket must've covered it, maybe?) It was just a tad bit low. I remember thinking that it must be the last thing to completely "move into place" once his head would've started getting bigger. Everything else was perfectly formed and there… just tiny. I remember looking at his eye structure and nose, thinking of how much he looked like his brother. His eyes were closed… very peaceful looking. I remember his bottom lip being "sucked" in a little. It bothered me because it looked like he suffered. (The cord was wrapped twice around his neck.) I told her that I would prefer a more peaceful look in his sketch. I remember him having a somewhat long, square-shaped chin. I couldn't figure out where he got it from… other than my half-brother having a similar structure. However, when I looked at Cameron's 4th birthday pictures the other week… I dawned on me that he has the same chin/jaw structure. As Cameron gets older, his "baby fat" face is going away and I'm aware of his changing looks. Since Nathan didn't have a chance to develop "baby fat"... I now see the resemblance.
I remember his right arm coming down beside him and going across his stomach. It must've covered his belly button/umbilical cord because I don't remember ever seeing them. His other arm was down by his side. I remember being able to see his little ribs because he didn't have any fat on him yet. I remember being able to tell that he was a boy and in awe of the fact that he was so tiny. It made me wonder how in the world they are able to tell the gender on a fuzzy, black and white, regular, 2-D ultrasound. (Nothing against my baby boy's manhood... I mean, I don't know the average size of little boys at that gestation. I sorta feel like I should take up for him after making that comment. You know how sensitive most guys are about their "parts".) The bottom of his legs looked so skinny and tiny compared to his upper legs. He had skinny calves but "meaty" looking thighs. (Poor kid was already taking after his mama.) ;-)
She asked what kind of sketch I was interested in and send me a link to her gallery. I instantly fell in love with this one...
The baby, on the right, is how I remember Nathan laying... only he was stretched out instead of legs curled up. Instead of his arm being up, it was down by his side. I know that whatever she comes up with won't be "Nathan". I understand that it will simply be an artistic sketch, a representation of him. I lost the chance of having an exact picture of him when I left the hospital. However, I'm hoping and praying that she'll be able to create something that I can look at and have some comfort and peace. I want something that I can share and remember him with. I need something tangible that reminds me that he was real... is real.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Indescribable
Something is different but I don't know what. I can't describe the feeling. I just can't figure out the words or thoughts to explain it. Last night and tonight, I just feel weird. I was up until around 3am last night (this morning). It just hit me out of nowhere... nausea. I was sitting on the couch reading the newest Karen Kingsbury book (which is pretty good by the way. I'm about half way through it and holding on to see if Brandon and Bailey will make it)... sorry, I got off track there. ;-)
Anyway, I was reading and the nausea just hit me. I hovered in the bathroom for almost an hour but never actually got sick. I racked my brain trying to think of what all I had eaten, thinking maybe something just didn't settle. Couldn't think of anything. I've felt fine... not coming down with anything that I know of. For those who don't know me (which is pretty much everyone who reads this since I've never shared this blog with close friends or family) I don't get sick. I can count on one hand how many times I've thrown up since I graduated high school.
So, of course, 'THAT' thought pops in my head... which of course, makes me even more nauseous. There is only one other time that I've ever had nausea without actually throwing up or being actually ill/sick. I was pregnant with Nathan. I never had any pregnancy symptoms with Cameron. With Nathan, the nausea was horrible and it hit full force at around 5 weeks. I had it right up until the day he was born.
But then, my brain reminds me that I HAVE to be overreacting. I'm not even due to ovulate until Sunday or Monday. Even if I were pregnant, I couldn't possible be far enough along to be having any symptoms. I seriously think it's just an overreaction to what this month is. This time last year, is when I got pregnant with Nathan. He was my birthday gift. (I got pregnant on my birthday, April 3rd.) Because of our crazy schedules (we were working opposite shifts) it was the only day within that fertile time frame when we were "together"... so that's how I know. I found out on Easter Sunday (April 24th) that I was pregnant.
Plus, I have the added coincidence of surgery. This time last year, I was getting ready for my appointment to talk with my OB about scheduling a hysterectomy. (I was supposed to see him in July of last year... oddly enough, the month Nathan was born.) With my hysteroscopy/laparotomy scheduled for April 19th, it feels like deja vu all over again. I'm going next Friday for my pre-op and blood work. Since they will be putting me under and actually going into my cervix/uterus, I know they'll be doing pregnancy tests and all that. I have a feeling that I'll probably be doing a test, at home, the morning of the surgery also... just to ease my mind before going in.
Anyway, I was reading and the nausea just hit me. I hovered in the bathroom for almost an hour but never actually got sick. I racked my brain trying to think of what all I had eaten, thinking maybe something just didn't settle. Couldn't think of anything. I've felt fine... not coming down with anything that I know of. For those who don't know me (which is pretty much everyone who reads this since I've never shared this blog with close friends or family) I don't get sick. I can count on one hand how many times I've thrown up since I graduated high school.
So, of course, 'THAT' thought pops in my head... which of course, makes me even more nauseous. There is only one other time that I've ever had nausea without actually throwing up or being actually ill/sick. I was pregnant with Nathan. I never had any pregnancy symptoms with Cameron. With Nathan, the nausea was horrible and it hit full force at around 5 weeks. I had it right up until the day he was born.
But then, my brain reminds me that I HAVE to be overreacting. I'm not even due to ovulate until Sunday or Monday. Even if I were pregnant, I couldn't possible be far enough along to be having any symptoms. I seriously think it's just an overreaction to what this month is. This time last year, is when I got pregnant with Nathan. He was my birthday gift. (I got pregnant on my birthday, April 3rd.) Because of our crazy schedules (we were working opposite shifts) it was the only day within that fertile time frame when we were "together"... so that's how I know. I found out on Easter Sunday (April 24th) that I was pregnant.
Plus, I have the added coincidence of surgery. This time last year, I was getting ready for my appointment to talk with my OB about scheduling a hysterectomy. (I was supposed to see him in July of last year... oddly enough, the month Nathan was born.) With my hysteroscopy/laparotomy scheduled for April 19th, it feels like deja vu all over again. I'm going next Friday for my pre-op and blood work. Since they will be putting me under and actually going into my cervix/uterus, I know they'll be doing pregnancy tests and all that. I have a feeling that I'll probably be doing a test, at home, the morning of the surgery also... just to ease my mind before going in.
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