Wow.
There were originally lots of other things that I was going to write about today. Funny how one short moment can change all of that.
The boys and I have been up here visiting my mom and family since Monday. It's been a pretty good week so far. Ups and downs, tears and laughter...just an overall good time to be home while my husband's out of town.
We had returned from Polkas today--my Grandma loves listening to Polka music. Every Friday she and my Mom go to a place which plays polka music from 2-4. Grandma loves it. Well, it turns out that my boys love it too.
We all went today, including my step-dad and aunt! I enjoyed it for the most part, felt a dark cloud pass over me off and on. It was just 2-3 weeks ago when I had told some of the ladies there that I was expecting. They were so excited. I kept imagining what next year would be like with a new polka fan to bring to the club. My mom told them last week of our loss. No one said anything about it today.
From time to time it was difficult listening to the music that just a few weeks ago I listened to with my baby still in my tummy. Thankfully, watching the boys clap along helped to chase away the blues.
We picked up pizza on the way home. Dinner was enjoyable with happy chatter spreading across the table. Afterwards, my mom & Benny went downstairs to get my dog Winnie from her cage in the basement. She was in the cage while we were gone. My mom walked into the kitchen and I knew something was wrong. I guess it doesn't take me long anymore, I feel like I'm so on edge. I blurted out, "Oh no, Winnie's dead, isn't she!" Mom said yes, that she must have died in her sleep. I asked if she was sure. She said yes and that she just told Benny Winnie was sleeping.
More tears. I know a dog can't compare to a lost child, but Winnie was my girl. She would have turned 15 years in February. She was with me from about 3 mos old on. I got her 6 mos after I got my first dog when I moved to Texas to go to graduate school back in '95. They were my family since I had moved to a state where I knew no one.
Winnie's been with me through every move, through getting married, through having kids. She's flown across the country on planes and ridden across the states in our van. She never complained. She was a stout, red, goofy dog with her tongue hanging out of her mouth half the time. She growled if another dog came too close to her space but never picked fights. She was easy-going and happy to lay around wherever she found room.
She was healthy too. A couple of years ago we spent an insane amount of money on her--she had some sort of cancer so she had the whole kit-and-caboodle taken out. She's never had any other health problems.
Last night when we gave the boys baths, I noticed Winnie up on my Grandma's couch. I was shocked. Winnie is too chunky to get on couches and hasn't done that since she was a pup. She seemed to be breathing hard, yet wore her same old goofy smile on her face. I didn't think much of it, just that she was getting old and that it was probably hard on her to jump up like that.
Do you ever wonder why so much seems to get thrown at us all at once? My baby died a week and a half ago. My dog died today. I found out on Tuesday that my brother and his wife lost one of their twins. They found out during almost the same ultrasound that I had when I learned of my baby's condition. So much loss in one week. I know, dogs don't compare to babies, but they are still a loss all the same. They are still family.
When my brother told me of his loss, I felt my heart breaking all over again. I had felt apprehensive about their appointment. I kept praying that all would be well. Apparently, their baby passed about 4 weeks ago, around week 8 or so. We are all thankful that since it happened so early, it shouldn't impact the remaining baby which is doing really well. I know they are still feeling pain though. I'm keeping them in my prayers. Three little babies down to two and now down to one. I remember how excited my step-dad was so excited about next Christmas and having three little babies around. Wow, how fast things can change. I remember when my mom gave him my brother's news he said, "What's going on?" Mom simply said, "Life."
Life. That's what it is. For all of the good and the bad within it, it's life.
And then today losing my sweet old dog. I have to say goodbye to her in a little bit before my mom takes her outside for the night. It's going to be hard. Any loss right now is hitting me really hard. I told my mom that I'd be leaving on Monday for home with yet another empty space in my life--Winnie's cage will be empty. It will be hard. Her cage in our basement will sit empty. We'll pick our younger Maddie dog up from the kennel on Tuesday. I know she'll look for Winnie. They were buddies with Maddie always licking Winnie's eyes and ears. Mary, my other senior dog, won't have Winnie to snarl at when they go outside. Mary's always been 'alpha dog' and Winnie knew and respected that. No more Winnie for Mary to put into place.
A friend and I were discussing my baby's condition soon after I found out. My friend had a miscarriage 6 weeks or so prior to my news. I had really felt her pain and was grateful that I could talk with her. I remember her asking me, "I wonder what we're supposed to learn from this? I think we're supposed to learn something, I don't know...maybe it's to truly embrace life." I've thought a lot about her question since our chat. I know there are just some things that we'll never understand. Why little children suffer and die, why some people are taken from us way too soon, why bad things happen to good people. We try to justify things. We try to pray. We listen to others' kind words. We try to make sense of loss in our heads. While it may make some sense in our heads, I don't think it ever makes full sense in our hearts.
And when multiple losses hit you in one time, that's pretty difficult to make any sense out of. The similarities between my brother and I were numerous. Our babies were due almost at the exact same time. He had told my parents on a Sunday and me on a Monday. I told my dad that same Monday as well as my brother about our good news. I received his 'announcement' in the mail on Tuesday. We all laughed at the number of secrets we had kept from each other! Then, we both made our happy news public (i.e. on Facebook) that Friday. Just two short weeks later, I found out about my baby's condition through our neucco-screen. For me that was week 12. My sister-in-law and brother learned of losing one of their twins on the exact same week--week 12. Very strange coincidences but they have allowed us to not only share the happy but also the sad and confusing.
Winnie. Well, what do you say about that timing? I could sit here and whine and say, "God, why me? How much more can you throw at me??" I'd like to say that but I can't. I can admit that it's hard to feel optimistic. Where is that glass that's half-full? It's just hard right now. I feel even more emptiness now without Winnie. So much change in just two weeks. Pregnant to not pregnant. My brother expecting twins to now just one. Three dogs down to two.
I don't know if I'll be able to make sense out of this any time soon. My pain over losing Baby Jacob is very raw and intense still right now. If anything, I'm very open to thinking about loss. To thinking about the many things we should try to learn from it--be it a sweet little baby or a sweet old dog. We all know we should celebrate life. No one would question that. Enjoy every moment with our loved ones. How true this is and it's ringing loud and clear to me right now, so loud that it's almost blaring.
As the temps start to fall and we look for blankets to keep us warm while watching a movie on the couch or reading a book, ask your loved one to sit and snuggle with you for a bit. Hold your baby, your child...put your arm around your mate. And of course, don't forget to cuddle with your furry friend--I've always believed that they were also gifts from God. They always seem to understand our feelings and don't ask for much in return. Such a great example of unconditional love.
With loving thoughts of all that I've lost in the last week--my precious Baby Jacob, my sweet little niece/nephew and my loyal Winnie.
Stay warm and loved my friends.
Kim
Heart
Mommy's heart for Baby Jacob
Friday, November 5, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Finally holding my son
Monday, November 1, 2010
Wow. Another really tough day. It's been one week since our sweet baby has left us. I can't believe it was just a few short days before that when we found out the horrible news. I'll never be able to say time stood still, it went so fast. Too fast. Way too fast.
I felt short-tempered this morning. Cranky. Edgy. I was trying to finish packing and it was going slow as usual. Alex was going out of town for the week and asked if we'd like to go to my mom's. I thought it was a good idea. I didn't like him leaving, but knew he had to so was grateful that we had the opportunity to go to my mom's. I'm still not supposed to lift Benny so I knew Mom would be able to help with that, when needed. I also knew that the boys would love being there with her, my step dad and my grandma. They love it there. And of course, I knew Mom & I could talk and cry whenever we needed to.
I pushed through the drudgery of packing. Finding the boys' socks. Chucking them in the suitcase, I decided I'd match them later. Their Pillow pets--can't forget those. Their 'cuddly guys' --for Benny that meant Bob the Builder and Elmo. For Sammy that meant his sockadiles, snake, bear-bears, oh the list went on and on. Sippy cups. Cars. More cars. My baby stuff to show mom. Coats.
I wonder if life sometimes has a way of lining things up. I was already in a teary state today and found more things to keep bringing on the emotion. I got the mail and found 4 beautiful sympathy cards sent from family and friends. Each one made me cry. I was so touched by how much people care about us in this time of need. The In the Company of Angels book we had just ordered last Wednesday was here too. Every page was so beautiful. I can't wait to fill it out, despite knowing how sad it will be to do so.
And then, the time came. I had gotten out of the shower and barely gotten dressed when I heard Alex get home. I slowly walked to the dining room where he was greeting the boys, taking off his coat and petting tail-wagging dogs at his feet. I stood in the doorway. He and I didn't even have to say anything. He reached into his green bag and pulled out a small item and brought it over to me.
It was our son. Alex handed me our son. The remains of our precious Baby Jacob were in a small cream ceramic box with the letters, "B", "A", "B" and "Y" on each side in pastel colors. When we thought we were picking him up on Friday at the funeral home and found out we weren't, we changed our urn request. They had offered the baby blue square before knowing of Jacob's small size. I picked this little box from the few they had to offer. I knew it would be just the right size to hold my precious treasure.
We had both been nervous anticipating dealing with the funeral home today. They communicated terribly. They never expressed condolences. It was all business and poor business at that. We feared they wouldn't have our baby ready today but there he was. Alex said the man he dealt today with was very sympathetic and even asked how I was doing.
I sobbed so hard while I held my Jacob. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be holding a sweet little newborn baby in the spring, not the tiny remains of my son's short life in the fall. I sobbed again as I asked Alex, "Is he in there? He really is?" We both cried as I held my son so tightly. Alex's eyes looked a bit swollen. I shook the box and heard faint little 'clinks'. At least that's the closest sound I can describe it as. My son.
As awful as a time as this was, it was also a brought a bit of peace to me. Even though these were just my son's earthly remains, they were him nonetheless.
For those of you who may find the following offensive or too 'graphic', I apologize. I feel as though I have to describe the rest of what Alex handed me. I looked over a small certificate which stated that the crematory had cremated the remains of our son. His name was typed clearly in caps on the envelope. I looked over the form. One line said, "Remains identified by:" and then the word, "Ankle", was checked.
I almost felt sick at reading this. Had they really managed to salvage one of my tiny baby's feet during the surgery? Had they really kept it whole and then labeled it with our name? As sick as I was to read this, it made me cry with tears of joy. My son existed. He wasn't just some 'tissue in a jar' as our doctor had said in haste at one point. He was a human being. A tiny little baby with tiny little feet and hands--those very feet and hands I had seen moving just a week and a half ago.
I thought back to my decision to not wait out the full miscarriage--if that's what you call it at this point. I just wished I could have seen my baby and held him. I could have tried to wait for things to happen on their own. Who knows if my body would have recognized Jacob's passing. I know things could have gotten more dangerous for me since I was so far along. Having two prior c-sections would mean that I couldn't necessarily try for a VBAC without risks associated with that. But, maybe I could have seen him. Maybe things would have been okay, I don't know. All I have to remember him by are fuzzy ultrasound photos. It's hard to say goodbye to those images of him even though the pain of having him naturally if it would have happened that way would have been unbearable too.
My son is home. His earthly remains are home with his mommy and daddy. What's more important though is that he is Home with our Heavenly Father. I try to remind myself of this daily. I try to imagine him cooing as the angels sing to him. I imagine him grabbing my grandpa's white beard while my grandpa laughs and holds him close.
It's brought a bit of closure to me, I guess, having this part of the journey come to it's end. I know there's lots more to go yet. I hope to have Alex & I have a small memorial for him--just the two of us sometime in the next few weeks. I think it will do both he and I a lot of good.
My son is home. May that bring you the same peace it's brought me--especially if you've lost a child. I bet our precious babies are playing together in Heaven's nursery. I smile at that and I hope you can too.
Kim
Wow. Another really tough day. It's been one week since our sweet baby has left us. I can't believe it was just a few short days before that when we found out the horrible news. I'll never be able to say time stood still, it went so fast. Too fast. Way too fast.
I felt short-tempered this morning. Cranky. Edgy. I was trying to finish packing and it was going slow as usual. Alex was going out of town for the week and asked if we'd like to go to my mom's. I thought it was a good idea. I didn't like him leaving, but knew he had to so was grateful that we had the opportunity to go to my mom's. I'm still not supposed to lift Benny so I knew Mom would be able to help with that, when needed. I also knew that the boys would love being there with her, my step dad and my grandma. They love it there. And of course, I knew Mom & I could talk and cry whenever we needed to.
I pushed through the drudgery of packing. Finding the boys' socks. Chucking them in the suitcase, I decided I'd match them later. Their Pillow pets--can't forget those. Their 'cuddly guys' --for Benny that meant Bob the Builder and Elmo. For Sammy that meant his sockadiles, snake, bear-bears, oh the list went on and on. Sippy cups. Cars. More cars. My baby stuff to show mom. Coats.
I wonder if life sometimes has a way of lining things up. I was already in a teary state today and found more things to keep bringing on the emotion. I got the mail and found 4 beautiful sympathy cards sent from family and friends. Each one made me cry. I was so touched by how much people care about us in this time of need. The In the Company of Angels book we had just ordered last Wednesday was here too. Every page was so beautiful. I can't wait to fill it out, despite knowing how sad it will be to do so.
And then, the time came. I had gotten out of the shower and barely gotten dressed when I heard Alex get home. I slowly walked to the dining room where he was greeting the boys, taking off his coat and petting tail-wagging dogs at his feet. I stood in the doorway. He and I didn't even have to say anything. He reached into his green bag and pulled out a small item and brought it over to me.
It was our son. Alex handed me our son. The remains of our precious Baby Jacob were in a small cream ceramic box with the letters, "B", "A", "B" and "Y" on each side in pastel colors. When we thought we were picking him up on Friday at the funeral home and found out we weren't, we changed our urn request. They had offered the baby blue square before knowing of Jacob's small size. I picked this little box from the few they had to offer. I knew it would be just the right size to hold my precious treasure.
We had both been nervous anticipating dealing with the funeral home today. They communicated terribly. They never expressed condolences. It was all business and poor business at that. We feared they wouldn't have our baby ready today but there he was. Alex said the man he dealt today with was very sympathetic and even asked how I was doing.
I sobbed so hard while I held my Jacob. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be holding a sweet little newborn baby in the spring, not the tiny remains of my son's short life in the fall. I sobbed again as I asked Alex, "Is he in there? He really is?" We both cried as I held my son so tightly. Alex's eyes looked a bit swollen. I shook the box and heard faint little 'clinks'. At least that's the closest sound I can describe it as. My son.
As awful as a time as this was, it was also a brought a bit of peace to me. Even though these were just my son's earthly remains, they were him nonetheless.
For those of you who may find the following offensive or too 'graphic', I apologize. I feel as though I have to describe the rest of what Alex handed me. I looked over a small certificate which stated that the crematory had cremated the remains of our son. His name was typed clearly in caps on the envelope. I looked over the form. One line said, "Remains identified by:" and then the word, "Ankle", was checked.
I almost felt sick at reading this. Had they really managed to salvage one of my tiny baby's feet during the surgery? Had they really kept it whole and then labeled it with our name? As sick as I was to read this, it made me cry with tears of joy. My son existed. He wasn't just some 'tissue in a jar' as our doctor had said in haste at one point. He was a human being. A tiny little baby with tiny little feet and hands--those very feet and hands I had seen moving just a week and a half ago.
I thought back to my decision to not wait out the full miscarriage--if that's what you call it at this point. I just wished I could have seen my baby and held him. I could have tried to wait for things to happen on their own. Who knows if my body would have recognized Jacob's passing. I know things could have gotten more dangerous for me since I was so far along. Having two prior c-sections would mean that I couldn't necessarily try for a VBAC without risks associated with that. But, maybe I could have seen him. Maybe things would have been okay, I don't know. All I have to remember him by are fuzzy ultrasound photos. It's hard to say goodbye to those images of him even though the pain of having him naturally if it would have happened that way would have been unbearable too.
My son is home. His earthly remains are home with his mommy and daddy. What's more important though is that he is Home with our Heavenly Father. I try to remind myself of this daily. I try to imagine him cooing as the angels sing to him. I imagine him grabbing my grandpa's white beard while my grandpa laughs and holds him close.
It's brought a bit of closure to me, I guess, having this part of the journey come to it's end. I know there's lots more to go yet. I hope to have Alex & I have a small memorial for him--just the two of us sometime in the next few weeks. I think it will do both he and I a lot of good.
My son is home. May that bring you the same peace it's brought me--especially if you've lost a child. I bet our precious babies are playing together in Heaven's nursery. I smile at that and I hope you can too.
Kim
Laughter and "Normalcy"
Saturday, October 30 was Trick-or-Treating. Part of me was grateful for the distraction and the 'busyness' of getting ready for that evening. The other part of me felt weighted down by the sadness of missing my baby. It hadn't even been a week since our baby had passed. Because Sammy & Benny love Halloween so much, as does their daddy, I had to do my best to make the evening fun for all.
I was treated to an unexpected surprise, complete with tears--this time happy tears. I put my Princess costume on in the bathroom. It was a floor-length purple dress with gold trim and lacing down the front. It was a Medieval costume and a little too big for me, but the extra room gave my stomach the space it needed to still show.
I remember I had asked Nancy, our nurse, on Tuesday about my stomach, "Will my stomach be back to a normal size after the surgery?" She said, "Oh no, it will take a while to go back to it's normal shape." I can't believe I had asked such a stupid question. I knew better. I replied, "Oh, that's right. It takes awhile for your stomach to go back down--just like when you have a normal baby, right?" A 'normal baby'. More tears.
So with my stomach still showing a bit, I smoothed out my Princess dress in front of the mirror. I even curled my hair like the model on the packaging. I placed the crown-like silky fabric on my head. When I walked into the kitchen, both of my sons instantly came to hug me and gush all over me. How could you not feel like a princess when two little boys look up at you and say, "You look so pretty Mommy! You look like a Princess!" (from Sammy, age 5) and, "You pretty Mama, soft...you Princess Mama!," (from Benny, age almost 3) and the best, "I love you Mommy!" (back to Sammy)
My little sweethearts. At that point, I knew I had definitely made the right decision to get dressed up and to go make the rounds, despite my physical aches and my emotional state. I seriously considered staying behind to pass out candy but Alex had pushed me to go. He didn't want me to miss out. We walked around the neighborhood for about an hour and a half. Alex pulled the wagon carrying the boys and I pushed the stroller carrying cameras, coats and Sammy's Ironman.
About halfway through the trek, I was starting to feel the effect of the walk. When the wagon lost a wheel pin and I had to put Benny in the stroller, the pain worsened. We were about 20 minutes from home and going up a hill, I stopped and yelled for Alex to come back to push Benny. I knew that I just couldn't attempt that last hill or I'd be in for a much more painful night. My doctor had cleared me to go Trick-or-Treating as long as I didn't overdo it. I felt like I was quickly getting to that level.
I watched for heavy bleeding the rest of the night but found none. I was grateful that I didn't aggravate things. It hurt to bend down and pick things up but that was it. I figured that a good night of rest would allow everything to settle back down.
Emotionally, the night had it's ups and downs. When the first few parents we saw on the road wished us a "Happy Halloween!", I had to quickly wipe the tears from my eyes. When I saw a beautiful sunset touch a hill behind our house, I cried. I found myself thinking back to my doctor appointment that Monday. After discussing everything in great detail yet before discovering that our sweet baby had passed, my doctor shared a story with me about a woman who found out her baby also had a fatal diagnosis like mine. She had decided to take her baby Trick-or-Treating and painted her belly for the night. Because things had moved so fast for us, I didn't even have time for something like that. My belly was empty.
It was an up and down night. Tears mixed in with laughter. I laughed whenever Benny said, "Look me! I Thomas!" He said this to oh, probably every person he saw out that night. He was so proud to be Thomas the Train.
Later that night, not knowing what to do with myself yet again and knowing I shouldn't do anything more physical for the night, I sat down to watch TV and found Pirates of the Caribbean 2 just starting. Alex & I hadn't seen it and rarely watch movies together, so decided to see if it was any good. I could not believe how much I laughed through that movie. You know those movies or shows that are full of corny physical comedy? Slapstick kind of stuff? No matter how cheesy, it might be, we laugh anyway. Must just be something about people--we'd like to say we don't find that stuff funny but I bet more of us chuckle at those behaviors than we'd like to admit.
So Alex & I both laughed at Jack Sparrow's antics. Sword-fighting on a spinning water wheel. Trying to outrun creepy pirates. I found myself laughing and laughing. It almost felt good. That was the first time I'd laughed in awhile.
I guess it did feel good but I was mad at myself. As much as I enjoyed laughing and know that it's good for you, I can admit that I don't want to laugh. Not yet. To me, laughter is a sign of returning to normal. But what is normal?? Normal should be putting maternity clothes on. Normal should be counting the weeks--I'd be 14 weeks by now. Normal would be still griping about feeling sick every day. Normal would be crying at every little thing like pregnant women do--loving that I had the excuse that the pregnancy hormone gives you to cry at sappy animal commercials and Cinderella movie previews.
Normal would be anxiously awaiting my baby's movements. I couldn't wait to feel him kick! I had been feeling little flutter type of things in my stomach at night when laying down. I knew they were probably just gas but I liked to dream that perhaps it really was my baby that I felt. I knew that in just a few more weeks I'd be feeling the real thing--kicks, punches, rolls. I couldn't wait. Normal. That's how things were supposed to be. The 'normal' that I knew for 13 weeks.
But instead laughing means that I will soon be returning to normal--that is, the normal that was before my pregnancy. It will mean returning to how my life was before--taking care of my family, unpacking boxes, getting ready for the holidays. It's almost as if I never was pregnant. It's difficult to explain how I feel about this and I hate that I even write something like that. I know I was pregnant, my baby was alive. He was alive for 13 beautiful weeks. He even showed me his energy when he kicked to protest the ultrasound technician's prodding. I loved watching him--every second of that ultrasound I had my eyes glued to the screen.
But the farther from Jacob's passing that I go, I feel like it's too easy to forget. I don't want to forget. I don't ever want to forget. The more that life sucks me back in, the farther from my baby I feel. I have responsibilities--I'm a mom, a wife, a home-maker. I know that. I pay bills. I unpack and figure out where to put everything. It's again just so hard to know how to navigate the tug of war you feel -- you are pulled towards your loss and grieving and remembering your lost baby and then you're pulled back to 'reality'--dishes, dogs, diapers and more. Where do you go?
I'd like to think that maybe it's just a constant blend of where you are in the healing process. I think I need to research and read more about healing after a loss such as this. Expecting a woman to simply 'suck it up' and bounce back is completely unfair. For me, I guess I'll just laugh when I have to and cry when I want to. I hope the laughter strengthens me for those really hard days when the tears just won't stop. I hope the crying keeps me close to my lost son, my precious Baby Jacob. That's all I can do at this point. That, and of course, to keep praying that God will lead me through this darkness. That maybe He's the one sprinkling my life with just enough 'laughable moments' to show me that it's okay to laugh between the tears.
Thanks for staying with me on this journey, my friends. It's still a difficult road and I think it will continue to be for quite some time.
Kim
I was treated to an unexpected surprise, complete with tears--this time happy tears. I put my Princess costume on in the bathroom. It was a floor-length purple dress with gold trim and lacing down the front. It was a Medieval costume and a little too big for me, but the extra room gave my stomach the space it needed to still show.
I remember I had asked Nancy, our nurse, on Tuesday about my stomach, "Will my stomach be back to a normal size after the surgery?" She said, "Oh no, it will take a while to go back to it's normal shape." I can't believe I had asked such a stupid question. I knew better. I replied, "Oh, that's right. It takes awhile for your stomach to go back down--just like when you have a normal baby, right?" A 'normal baby'. More tears.
So with my stomach still showing a bit, I smoothed out my Princess dress in front of the mirror. I even curled my hair like the model on the packaging. I placed the crown-like silky fabric on my head. When I walked into the kitchen, both of my sons instantly came to hug me and gush all over me. How could you not feel like a princess when two little boys look up at you and say, "You look so pretty Mommy! You look like a Princess!" (from Sammy, age 5) and, "You pretty Mama, soft...you Princess Mama!," (from Benny, age almost 3) and the best, "I love you Mommy!" (back to Sammy)
My little sweethearts. At that point, I knew I had definitely made the right decision to get dressed up and to go make the rounds, despite my physical aches and my emotional state. I seriously considered staying behind to pass out candy but Alex had pushed me to go. He didn't want me to miss out. We walked around the neighborhood for about an hour and a half. Alex pulled the wagon carrying the boys and I pushed the stroller carrying cameras, coats and Sammy's Ironman.
About halfway through the trek, I was starting to feel the effect of the walk. When the wagon lost a wheel pin and I had to put Benny in the stroller, the pain worsened. We were about 20 minutes from home and going up a hill, I stopped and yelled for Alex to come back to push Benny. I knew that I just couldn't attempt that last hill or I'd be in for a much more painful night. My doctor had cleared me to go Trick-or-Treating as long as I didn't overdo it. I felt like I was quickly getting to that level.
I watched for heavy bleeding the rest of the night but found none. I was grateful that I didn't aggravate things. It hurt to bend down and pick things up but that was it. I figured that a good night of rest would allow everything to settle back down.
Emotionally, the night had it's ups and downs. When the first few parents we saw on the road wished us a "Happy Halloween!", I had to quickly wipe the tears from my eyes. When I saw a beautiful sunset touch a hill behind our house, I cried. I found myself thinking back to my doctor appointment that Monday. After discussing everything in great detail yet before discovering that our sweet baby had passed, my doctor shared a story with me about a woman who found out her baby also had a fatal diagnosis like mine. She had decided to take her baby Trick-or-Treating and painted her belly for the night. Because things had moved so fast for us, I didn't even have time for something like that. My belly was empty.
It was an up and down night. Tears mixed in with laughter. I laughed whenever Benny said, "Look me! I Thomas!" He said this to oh, probably every person he saw out that night. He was so proud to be Thomas the Train.
Later that night, not knowing what to do with myself yet again and knowing I shouldn't do anything more physical for the night, I sat down to watch TV and found Pirates of the Caribbean 2 just starting. Alex & I hadn't seen it and rarely watch movies together, so decided to see if it was any good. I could not believe how much I laughed through that movie. You know those movies or shows that are full of corny physical comedy? Slapstick kind of stuff? No matter how cheesy, it might be, we laugh anyway. Must just be something about people--we'd like to say we don't find that stuff funny but I bet more of us chuckle at those behaviors than we'd like to admit.
So Alex & I both laughed at Jack Sparrow's antics. Sword-fighting on a spinning water wheel. Trying to outrun creepy pirates. I found myself laughing and laughing. It almost felt good. That was the first time I'd laughed in awhile.
I guess it did feel good but I was mad at myself. As much as I enjoyed laughing and know that it's good for you, I can admit that I don't want to laugh. Not yet. To me, laughter is a sign of returning to normal. But what is normal?? Normal should be putting maternity clothes on. Normal should be counting the weeks--I'd be 14 weeks by now. Normal would be still griping about feeling sick every day. Normal would be crying at every little thing like pregnant women do--loving that I had the excuse that the pregnancy hormone gives you to cry at sappy animal commercials and Cinderella movie previews.
Normal would be anxiously awaiting my baby's movements. I couldn't wait to feel him kick! I had been feeling little flutter type of things in my stomach at night when laying down. I knew they were probably just gas but I liked to dream that perhaps it really was my baby that I felt. I knew that in just a few more weeks I'd be feeling the real thing--kicks, punches, rolls. I couldn't wait. Normal. That's how things were supposed to be. The 'normal' that I knew for 13 weeks.
But instead laughing means that I will soon be returning to normal--that is, the normal that was before my pregnancy. It will mean returning to how my life was before--taking care of my family, unpacking boxes, getting ready for the holidays. It's almost as if I never was pregnant. It's difficult to explain how I feel about this and I hate that I even write something like that. I know I was pregnant, my baby was alive. He was alive for 13 beautiful weeks. He even showed me his energy when he kicked to protest the ultrasound technician's prodding. I loved watching him--every second of that ultrasound I had my eyes glued to the screen.
But the farther from Jacob's passing that I go, I feel like it's too easy to forget. I don't want to forget. I don't ever want to forget. The more that life sucks me back in, the farther from my baby I feel. I have responsibilities--I'm a mom, a wife, a home-maker. I know that. I pay bills. I unpack and figure out where to put everything. It's again just so hard to know how to navigate the tug of war you feel -- you are pulled towards your loss and grieving and remembering your lost baby and then you're pulled back to 'reality'--dishes, dogs, diapers and more. Where do you go?
I'd like to think that maybe it's just a constant blend of where you are in the healing process. I think I need to research and read more about healing after a loss such as this. Expecting a woman to simply 'suck it up' and bounce back is completely unfair. For me, I guess I'll just laugh when I have to and cry when I want to. I hope the laughter strengthens me for those really hard days when the tears just won't stop. I hope the crying keeps me close to my lost son, my precious Baby Jacob. That's all I can do at this point. That, and of course, to keep praying that God will lead me through this darkness. That maybe He's the one sprinkling my life with just enough 'laughable moments' to show me that it's okay to laugh between the tears.
Thanks for staying with me on this journey, my friends. It's still a difficult road and I think it will continue to be for quite some time.
Kim
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