A Year in Review

January: Find out we are having TWINS! My favorite memory: sitting at a sub shop with Brian after our ultrasound, listening to him run through ALL of the things we will have to buy for two babies-in HIGH SCHOOL! He totally skipped the first 15 years of their life and started worrying about prom and class rings and letter jackets.

February: Spent most of this month reading pregnancy books, looking at baby stuff online (especially during my prep time at school-oops!), freaking out about having two babies at once, and in general, just floating along on cloud 9, wondering how my life had gotten so lucky. Got my first maternity clothes and started cleaning out the extra bedroom, which would be a baby room!

March-Had our 20 week ultrasound to find out that we had two perfectly healthy babies, one boy and one girl! Started really picking out names. I had my first real gut feeling that something was really wrong when the DVD they give you of your ultrasound was broken and did not work-twice. I had real worries all along, but after that I started to feel funny. That very day of the ultrasound we drove and bought a Dodge Grand Caravan. After all, our little car can't hold two babies, us, and a very spolied dog! Bought two cribs, two gilders, and a changing table. Painted the nursery "dancing green" and picked a Twinkle Twinkle Little Star theme.
29th: went to bed feeling very uncomfortable. Rolled around like crazy. At 9:40 pm, my water broke. It is actually not at all like it is in the movies. It is a waterfall gushing down your legs. I will never, ever, forget that drive to the hospital.

April: Spend two weeks terrified to move. Pray that the babies will stay put. Pray that there will be no infection. The birth and death of my first two children. Instant depression. I laid in bed, surfing on the internet to find other stories like mine. I made myself shower every day. Barely left the house. Only spoke to my husband and mom for the most part.

May: Quite similar to April. Getting up for a shower each day gets harder. Refuse to go anywhere. Spend the days alone while B goes to work, crying and blogging, reading books about grief. avoiding phone calls.

June: Decide to go to France. Decide not to. Decide to put our house on the market. SO thankful that Brian is home with me now.

July: This month is a blur to me. I remember watching fireworks and bawling my head off. I think I was in sort of a numb state

August: Anxiety sets in about going back to work. Celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary and try to run away from the babies' due date by going to Las Vegas. First meeting back was horrible.

September: Meet with high risk doctor. Go back to work. Survive.

October: First cycle trying for a new baby. Take a new drug and have a few ultrasounds. October 31st, one year after we conceived Aiden and Sophie, we find out we are pregnant again.

November: Find out it is for sure one baby. 1st anniversary of Rudy's death. Survive. Thanksgiving was horrible.

December: Anxiety for this pregnancy sets in. Feel like no one in real life remembers the twins besides me. Mostly because if people think of us or them they tell us afterward. Which is well-meaning, but a little after the fact. Struggle. Survive.

This is my life. It's so focused on this that I don't remember a single other thing that happened this year. I seriously don't. I know my friends had very important life events, which I have tried to be a part of, but for the most part, I am wrapped up in myself. B is gone tonight, out with friends. I haven't been alone in a very, very long time. He left and I was overtaken by a giant wave of grief. I sobbed and sobbed. Louis tried to lick the tears away as quickly as he could. He always attacks me when I cry :) I know I will never have answers. But I just cannot understand how this happened. How they are not here. How I do the rest of this. How I bring a real, live baby into this world.
Please, please God let me bring a real, live baby into this world.

A year in review: Survival. Desperation. Grief.

Contortionist

I am a contortionist.
I can take anything that is said, or done, and change it in my mind. It twists and turns and shapes until it is what I want to be. Which is sometimes something so terrible that I am sick and other times fluffy nonsense that I know is the ultimate un-reality.
I wake up in the night to use the bathroom and then I lie down in bed and I take the days events and they fly around in my brain. Swish, swosh. They fumble around. I try to make sense. I try not to think of the worst. I don't let myself replay "that" night anymore. Nothing good seems to come of it. These thoughts become so un-real that they cause me to have random nightmares. Strange, strange nightmares.

Sometimes I feel crazy. Sometimes I feel like I miss these two babies too entirely much because, really, I didn't know them. Then sometimes I feel like I am that horrible person who doesn't feel sad enough for her loss. Doesn't feel "in touch" with her loss. I don't see them in my dreams. I don't really see "signs" of them anywhere. I don't have a symbol, really, that screams out "Aiden and Sophie" to me. Sometimes I feel so numb. Maybe I am just really bad at doing this; at being this.

Instead of thinking about bringing a baby home in July, I play in my mind what I will do this time when this baby dies. What I will bring to the hospital, who I will call and how, how I will make myself go back to work. The only thing I think about baby wise is a name, because I figure at 13 weeks along if I lose this baby any time after now he/she should at least have a name. This makes me feel sick. I feel like a horrible person. I want to enjoy this. I need to. I deserve to. But I'm so scared. My imagination doesn't go beyond March 20th, when I turn 24 weeks. I don't know how to fix this. I feel twisted, delusional, like a terrible mother both to Aiden and Sophie and to this baby as well.

This past week was so hard. I know I don't have to tell you, because you know. You know what it's like. Hubby and I had lunch with my father today. It was strange. I haven't seen him in 2 years. I try to look past what happened in my childhood and beyond. But I cannot. Too much happened. So we chat. Superficial level. Have you sold your house? How's work? How's the dog? I am my father's only child. His first daughter, Mary, is buried next to my grandma. We have this is common. He doesn't mention it. His hair is cut too short, he is too thin. He talks about "buddies" but I'm not sure they exist. Guilt, Guilt, Guilt. You're his only family. He is lonely. He has no one. My head screams out, "HE DID IT TO HIMSELF. HE LEFT US. HE CHEATED ON US." Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

I feel like a broken record.
I don't know how to do this.
I just don't know how to do this.

If I Could Be Where You Are

Where are you this moment?

Only in my dreams.

You're missing, but you're always a heartbeat from me.

I'm lost now without you, I don't know where you are.

I keep watching, I keep hoping, but time keeps us apart.

Is there a way I can find you, is there a sign I should know,

is there a road I could follow to bring you back home?

Winter lies before me now you're so far away.

In the darkness of my dreaming the light of you will stay

If I could be close beside you

If I could be where you are

if I could reach out and touch you and bring you back home

Is there a way I can find you

Is there a sign I should know

Is there a road I could follow to bring you back home to me

-Enya

Trust

Last night I wrote my Aunt J. She had her son D at 24 weeks gestation 24 years ago. He is alive and healthy-has some delays and needs some help on a day to day basis, but definitely what you would call thriving. She had him early due to an incompetent cervix. She had the same doctor as I do now. With her second pregnancy, she had her son T at 37 weeks, thanks to a cerclage that Dr. P put in for her. I'm sure that she is fluffing it up a bit, but she basically says, "Eh, they stitched me up and when I was ready, they pulled out that stitch, and bam! Out he came." Heaven knows it is NOT that easy.

Anyway, she not only has (somewhat of) a similar experience to me, but had the same doctor and is one of the smartest people I know. She's actually my husband's aunt, but out of anyone in the family, I relate to her best.

She wrote me an e-mail that made me sob crying. I will copy in my favorite part:

"The trust and whatever you have endured or are going to endure prepares you, teaches you and allows you to carry on for whatever comes next - the trick is to firmly plant that seed, file it, rely on it - know it's there when you need it but don't dwell on the happenings that brought you to that preparedness - take each and every moment of joy that comes and relish it - look forward - not what if - but what is."

I have read these few lines over and over and over today. I want to be there. I want to trust. I need to trust.

But trust in who? In what? Who do you trust in when it seems like everyone has let you down? I recently had an experience where someone, in not so many words, inferred that it was a good thing the twins died because they either would have been very ill or perhaps murderers or in jail-so it's pretty much that God did it to save us agony in the longrun.

Is this helpful? And how do I trust anything then? If that is the case (which I certainly do NOT believe-I couldn't believe that), then what if all my children are future mass murderers?

It is not just this pregnancy that I don't have trust in. I'm so sorry for continuing to go on and on about being pregnant. I know some of you have stopped reading because of it. The thing is, my grief just feels like it's getting worse because of that. I'm having a hard time trusting anything.

"It's not what IF, but what IS."

Can I live be these words? Can I let the what ifs go? Can I let the should've beens go? The could've beens?

Breathe.

OK, so today I took action. Because I can't just lay around and cry about this. SO, I called Dr. P's office and left a message with the nurses that I'd like him to look into the 17p shots for me. He told me this summer that the research doesn't show much-but I'm going to ask him again.

I then called Dr. B's office and left a message. She is the doctor I had when I was pregnant with the twins (I was shared between the two of them). She actually was in the NICU when things crashed with Aiden and she stayed in there the entire time. Rubbing my back, my shoulders, watching me watch my baby die. You could say we have a connection. So I asked in my message if we could share care again this time. Dr. P's nurse said if my cervix stays put, eventually I'd graduate anyway, so maybe she should be following me, too, either way? Yesterday I spent some time researching a switch in MFMs.

Dr. P is the only perinatologist in my hospital. There are two at the other hospital in town, but my insurance won't work there. Well, it pays 60%. But I saw the bill from one day in the NICU. There's no way we could afford it. So I'm sort of stuck. But I'm not going to sit back and feel bad about this and guilty. If this baby (dear God, please let this baby live) should have something horrible happen, I will never get over the guilt if I just sit back and not fight for what I want. I deserve a good bedside manner. I deserve to be comforted! I am NORMAL for having anxiety.

Just who in the heck wouldn't!?!?!?

My (dis)appointment

This is going to be a jumbled one, and for that I am sorry. Today marks eight months since the babies were born. Each month that passes I tell myself, "This month, this will be the one that I celebrate and honor them instead of crying all day. I can do this. I will look at their photos and rememberance items with love instead of pain." Well, I'll tell ya, this is not the month, either.

Friday I had an appointment with my perinatologist. I was dreading/looking forward to this appointment for 3 weeks. I don't know how much I've mentioned before about my peri. The first time I met him, I was 20 weeks and some change pregnant with the twins. The first thing he said to me was, "11 % of twins in this country are born weighing less than 3 pounds."

The irony was I laughed later on thinking about it. Less than 3 pounds! That's ridiculous. I wonder if I was too cocky? Maybe I needed to be knocked down a notch.

Anyway, he is, what we might call, the "creme de la creme" of doctors. He's widely known, written books, etc. But what I have accepted about him is that his bedside manner is almost non-existent. He is very scientific, very by the book. But he's a genius, and his concentration is pre-term labor.

So, I digress.

We get to the appointment and meet with M, his nurse. M is the first person to speak the word "funeral" to me. I dread seeing her. She tells me that I'm not eating enough. I need more protein. I might be dehydrated. Gotta eat more. Asks me all sorts of questions. Then says, "Well, Dr. P will be in to talk to you and give you a pap smear/exam. Just so you know, I'm thinking you won't be considered high-risk for long and we'll probably graduate you back to your regular OB as long as everything is going normal."

WHAT?

No, I am high-risk. I have two dead babies. That makes me risky, doesn't it? I start panicking.

He comes in. He wants to talk about the "normal pregnancy stuff first."

So, he tells me two things. 1. I don't need to gain ANY weight during this pregnancy. No one will mind if I don't even gain a pound. 2. If I don't want to take my prenatals because they make me sick, I just need to keep taking the folic acid.

So then he gives me a pap smear (which holy CRAP does that hurt way more when you are pregnant) feels my uterus and says, "Feels about 10 weeks. How far along are you?" (10 weeks). Tells me I probably will have some spotting.

Leaves so I can get dressed. Comes back, do I have any questions?

I just said, "I just feel like I should be doing something different this time. I'm scared and I want to know that we're taking precautions."

He said, "Oh, we are doing something VERY different. We are watching over a singleton pregnancy instead of a multiple one. That makes ALL the difference."

And then he leaves.

And I am left to think, what in the world do I do?

Do I try to switch doctors to find someone more caring/who can tend to my severe emotional needs? Do I stay with the "guru", the "big guy."?

So, no ultrasound, no heartbeat, he wants to start measuring cervix at 18 weeks but is "very sure" it was not my cervix, that it was an infection which is a "one time thing."

I'm going totally nuts. I picked a fight with my husband all weekend. Perhaps I need to find a therapist. Perhaps I need to be put in a coma until this is all over.

Tomorrow night is a candlelight ceremony for babies at the hospital. We've had it on the calendar forever. I don't know if I can do it. I feel myself spiraling down, backwards, away from the goal. I've had a draft of an e-mail asking friends if they'll do the march for babies with us sitting in my e-mail for 2 weeks. Why am I not sending it?

Holidays, pregnancy, hormons, emotions, grief. Frustrations at work.

I need to relax. I went and bought a prenatal yoga DVD. Looked up stuff about meditation. Looked into places I can go walk in the winter. Looked into buying a treadmill.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I can do this.

The NICU

The NICU in which Sophie and Aiden spent their short lives sent us a package. I didn't exactly know it was from the NICU, I just knew it was from the hospital. I immediately started sobbing when I opened it and saw tissue paper.

There was a handwritten note from the Doctor that took care of the twins for the first 24 hours. She tried so hard to save my beautiful babies.

A handwritten note. From someone who spends 48 hour shifts in the hospital.

There was a card signed by all the nurses.

There were two ornaments-beautiful ornaments-with the babies' names written on them and the year written on the back.

So, so amazing. Just so amazing.

A year ago...

One year ago, we had just gotten back from a wedding in Jamaica. We got to Minneapolis at midnight on a Sunday night and still had to drive all the way home, in a snowstorm, and then go to work the next day! I woke up Monday morning and wondered if I should take a pregnancy test. It was far enough in my cycle (the first one from the women's clinic), but I was worried about how terrible my day after seeing a neg. test would be since I was already exhausted. I had seen what felt like a million negative pregnancy tests, and no matter how many you've seen, it doesn't make the next one easier. So I went into the bathroom and got undressed for my shower. At the last second, I changed my mind and grabbed a digital pregnancy test. I sat there, watching the little blinking hourglass. When it flashed up a few seconds later, I could hardly believe it. They had forgotten to put the "Not" in front of the "Pregnant." I remember running into Brian's bathroom (still naked!) and almost knocking him over, shoving the pee stick in his face. I was crying and screaming and generally throwing a fit. I would give anything to have that innocence back. That pure, pure joy. That hope. Elation. Confidence that our future was changing. This was a gift from Rudy, we said. He sent us this from Heaven.

We didn't know that in the end this gift would end up in Heaven, too.

Basketcase.

I am a complete basketcase.

Seriously. My emotions are up and down, swing around. Cry, feel hopeful. Throw a fit, rejoice. Optimism, denial.

You may have noticed the background on my blog changed. This is because I am a basketcase. When I first created this blog, in the horrid, horrid, bleak days surrounding Sophie and Aiden's death, I already had a family blog. I first started writing on there, and then when my close friends were calling to make sure I hadn't slit my wrists, I decided that it wasn't the greatest idea to post my "real" feelings there because, while I was certainly not suicidal, my deep, dark thoughts scared the bejeebers out of them. I guess that's understandable. How could they know?

So, anyway, I wanted to make a new blog, and around the same time I stumbled across Our Own Creation. I could not believe it. I read every single word from every single entry. I couldn't sleep until I had read every bit of the story. I felt so horrible that someone else had a similar experience to me, but so comforted at the same time. I, nervously, wrote the blog owner an e-mail. She more than graciously sent me a long response, which started me off. I began to crave this interaction with people that really understood me.

So then I got nervous that my family would find me, especially if this public blog was linked under the same profile as my private blog. So I created a new blogger account.

In the depths of my grief, for some reason, I chose the log-in name "babylosttimes2."

Ya know, two babies. Twins.

But as time creeped on, because I am a total basketcase, I started getting nervous about that login name. By the time I found out I was pregnant a while ago, I was convinced that my log-in name was going to jinx me. The universe would think I meant that I had lost a baby two separate times.

I realize this is irrational.

But instead, I googled how to change accounts.

So I made a new account "almostamother@gmail.com" and forwarded everything from that e-mail into a new email.

It took a really. long. time.

Every time someone close to me goes through a tragedy, I wonder if I am their friend because I will go through it, too. I didn't use to think I was the superstitious type, but now I think I might be.

Just what I need!!

All over the place

Oh my gosh, you guys. I am SO all over the place. I am just seriously so...I don't even know. These holidays were hard. Not anyone, not even my mom brought up Sophie and Aiden. I guess part of this is my fault for having some sort of expectation. At my large family gathering, my grandpa's wife, who only ever talks about her own family, actually got out pictures of her brand new great grandson. That's when I walked out and had a major meltdown outside. I just feel so often like I am battling this all on my own (in real life).

I struggled, like so many of you, with the whole Christmas season approaching. I decided to put up the decorations and go Black Friday shopping like usual, but I also added something new. I made a whole tree just for Sophie and Aiden. Here it is:

A letter S and a letter A at the top:

It felt good, in a way, to have a way to honor them. Now that I know that I will be the only one (besides you all, of course), I should be less disappointed in the future.

So, besides the holidays, I am going crazy with this new pregnancy. I feel so many things all at one. I feel like such a fake. Fake excited. But fake not. Just fake, fake, because I don't even know what it is that I feel (besides terrified, I'm pretty sure about that).

Every day I think something has gone wrong. Haven't felt nauseous in a while, must be over. Or if I don't get up enough in the night, something must be wrong. I am trying so hard. SO hard to stay positive. I have written a few blog posts today that won't be published where I've imagined what my life will be like once this new baby is born, healthy and alive and (hopefully) full term. I sometimes will sneak onto Ba.by Cen.ter and I won't post, but I'll read the forums and pretend like I care about what they care about. "My boobs are so biiiiig!" "How will you announce it on facebook?" (um, I won't). "When should I tell my family?" (I'm thinking...after the baby is born) "Is it too soon to register?" (um, DUH. of course it is too soon-wait until after the baby is at least, oh, born!).

I have to get rid of these toxic thoughts. How do I do it? How do I trust that this time will be ok, and believe that?

I don't know. I feel so lost. And so scared. And I can't talk to anyone in real life about it. My husband is very busy trying to figure out what entry to re-do for his certification (he's decided to try it again-I'm proud of him, but it takes a LOT of time). I think he barely thinks about this pregnancy. My mom is just so excited that she doesn't seem to think I should be worried about anything. See, I am my mom's rainbow baby. She lost my sister, Mary, at full term to stillbirth. So, if anything, I thought she'd be great support. But she's just giddy and joking and just happy and I wish I were there. I wish I could do anything but feel sick when she talks about picking names.

Ugh.

Please, please don't get me wrong-I am so thankful-I have NEVER been so thankful to be expecting again-to have this miracle of life within me. I know, deep down, that it makes me happy and gives me hope. I do not for one second take this for granted. I don't want you to think that I am missing that fact. I just wish I could take this gift and KNOW, fundamentally and permanently, that I will have a living child in 7 months.

Last night, I had a dream for the first time that I was a mom to a new baby. Never once did I dream about that when I was pregnant with the twins. In this dream, I was pouring formula into a bottle and I didn't know how much to put in-I kept asking all these people around me, if you had this baby, how much would you put in? All of the people looked at me funny and then I realized that the baby I had in my arms wasn't the only one. There were two more. I was in a hotel room or something and I was so scared because I had no idea how to be a mom and especially to three babies! Only at some point I realized the other two that I wasn't holding didn't really need to eat. At the last part, my husband came in and said, "Oh! We had the baby! Is it a girl or a boy?" and I was mortified because I didn't even know! So I lifted up their clothes and yelled out, "It's a boy!"

I think some dream analyst would have a hay-day with that dream. Talk about messed up! Yikes. I woke feeling really confused and groggy and at the same time wondering if it was a good sign to have a living baby in a dream.

Well, yeah, like I said. I am all over the place.

Sigh.

One for Two

I really, really wanted both.
I thought I could have both.
I thought this year was going to turn around for us.
I thought maybe we'd catch a break.

7:15 ultrasound. We saw a heartbeat. Only one baby. Measuring right on at 6 wks 6 days. Graduated from fertility clinic to MFM. Got an ultrasound picture that I'm not really sure what to do with. It kind of freaks me out.

8:35 receive scores. 269 out of 275.

Lots of swear words.

I hate this. I hate seeing my husband disappointed. I hate that he is the hardest working person I know and that he deserves this so much and he doesn't get it I hate that he is sad. I hate it. I hate it.

One for two.

Thanks for waiting with me.

A re-do

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I feel often lately that my life is eerily some sort of creepy re-do of last year. 2008-2009 were horrible years for us, obviously. Starting in 2008 because that's when my father-in-law was diagnosed with lung cancer. It went like this:
Nov 2: Rudy dies from complications from lung cancer
Nov 5: Funeral and, oh, right, begin clomid (what was I thinking? obviously I wasn't!)
Nov 21: discover hubby has missed getting his national board teaching certification by less than 10 points (this was a huge deal-we paid a lot of money for the process and he was so proud and we were both SO sure he had passed)
Dec 6: find out we're pregnant
you know the rest just goes downhill from there

Now...
Nov 2: one year anniversary of rudy's death
Nov 2: find out we're pregnant
nov 20: yes, on the same day-have ultrasound to check for growth AND receive the scores from the re-do that hubby took to receive his national boards

It feels like my life is on a rewind, back again, screech to a stop, do that over. I am so totally aware that you can't "do over" a pregnancy/a child/a birth, but if I sit back and pretend, I feel like my life is completely repeating itself (in an eery, unwanted way).

So the "what ifs" begin.

What if it's all going to be great this time?
More importantly, what if it's truly a repeat?

I am so beyond nervous for Friday. I have no reason to think it will be anything but good news for the ultrasound, except that alarming statistic about how often a fetus implants and then doesn't grow. Boy, I love statistics.

I am SO beyond nervous for my husband. I can't explain how much I want this for him. This excitement, this pride, this honor. There is no way to get you all to understand what a devoted, hard working teacher he is. It is beyond control how hard he works. I work nowhere near as hard as him. He deserves this so much. He needs it.

Here I go again.

Begging. Who am I begging, exactly?

The Universe? God? Since when are they involved in these small details?

Did I mention that for this retake of the test hubby took he had to turn all of the stuff in exactly during the time that I was in the hospital on bedrest? During the two weeks between the time my water broke and I gave birth. It is burned into my brain. My lying there, watching bad TV and knitting (BEGGING) and Brian working on his laptop, trying to get it done.

It's so much agony. So much pain. So much disappointment.

Too much.

Now it's a do over. What will happen?

What if it's neither. No heartbeat. Fail the test.

Or maybe just one for two? (do I get to pick?)

Could we even get two for two? That seems like a LOT for the universe to hand me.

Have I mentioned that I am nervous.

Praying for peace, for calm, for strength, for patience...

7 months.

Aiden and Sophie were born 7 months ago.
How can that be? Just HOW CAN THAT BE?

This is the time of year when I remember that I dislike winter in the midwestern United States. By 5:00 pm it is midnight dark-so pitch black that you feel like it is time to go straight to bed. I come home from work and feel like I should just plain go to sleep. It doesn't help that 1)I am semi-depressed because I come home and feel like I should have SO much to do and instead I have nothing to do and 2) early pregnancy makes you pretty tired.

Next Friday's ultrasound seems like a thousand years away. How much do I hate the word "viable?" Well, as any mom of premature labor, it's all about getting to "viability." Only in this case, we have to see if the pregnancy is "viable" first before you can even get to "viability." It doesn't seem real at all to me that I am even pregnant. I am tired, and super hormonal, and my breasts are sore, and I have headaches, and I get a little queasy here in there. Got that. But it's already so different from how it was with the twins. I was SO sick with them. I was obnoxiously tired. This time I feel like my uterus is already stretching out. Only, maybe that is a bad sign. Who even knows? I only can talk about this with a few other baby-lost mamas-I can't really tell anyone in real life. I could, but I guess I don't really want to. I am afraid I won't get the reaction I want-and the funny part is, I don't even know what reaction I want!

I feel like I just want this so, so badly. Well, duh. I know we all do. We are all begging. Please, please, please. Let us get pregnant. Let us keep that baby. Let that baby's heart continue to beat. Let them stay inside long enough/don't let them stay inside too long. Let the birth go smoothly. Please, please, please. If only it worked, right? The begging? I wish it worked.

It's Friday night, and it's 6:30, and it's so dark and cold and I am already in my pajamas. Blogging. Reading. Going to bed.

confession.

I'm pregnant.
Probably you guessed since I was all, "blahblahblah-one follicle-blahblah" and then didn't bring it up again.
I, like others, am struggling with blogging about it. I could so, so, definitely use the support-above all, I am terrified-but I don't at all want to hurt anyone out there. We are all going through so much. I know it's a little easier to hear news like this when it's another babyloss mama, but it's still not easy. Especially when there are issues with IF, etc. etc. I never, EVER expected this to work this time. It look so long the last time.
For now, though, I just wanted you that have been wondering to know. I'm a few days past 5 weeks along. Very, very early days. I really shouldn't put this on the internet. I don't know if there's anyone from my real life that has somehow found this (besides one person I know that reads this, hi J!).
I'm very nervous. About everything. Reading these blogs has been SO helpful to me, so amazing, but the one thing it has also done is make me hyper-aware of all of the things that could possible go wrong. So many things.
I am trying so very hard to focus on staying positive. Telling myself that I (we) will be ok. That not every bad thing can happen to me. To not take every thing I read about and apply it to me.
It's hard.
But I'm trying.
I have an u/s to see if there is a heartbeat on 11/20. Until then, I am a complete psycho, watching the toilet paper and hoping that somehow this will be ok. My emotions have been going crazy, I've been going back to reliving a lot of the twins' birth/death. I'm trying to stay on track. Trying to be positive. I promise, I am thinking every positive thought that I can muster up. Please help think them for me.
xxoo

My house

I hate our house.
I come in and I see the stove where I burned my pregnant belly on. I see the drawer where I held all the diaper coupons. Move the basement where I would sit and daydream about trying to navigate the stairs with two babies. I remember getting my brand new laptop computer, taking it downstairs and making silly videos of ourselves as parents.
The upstairs is, by far, the worse. The bed where I would lay each night, reading books about pregnancy and parenting, surfing the net for baby stuff, watching episodes of Gilmore Girls and One Tree Hill to relax at night since I should "take it easy."
The room.
THE room.
That damn room.
That we painted dancing green.
That I sat in a glider, listening to lullabies and reading aloud whatever book I was reading to the babies.

The stove that now I don't even feel like cooking on.
The drawer that has toothpaste coupons.
The basement that is so empty. Void of personal photos. Void.
The bed where my water broke. Where I laid for two weeks, pleading with God. Trying to bargain. Begging him to watch my husband so he could see how good of a dad he would be. The bed where I spent weeks after the babies were born, bleeding, hurting, sore, tired, empty. So, so empty. Surfing the net trying to find someone with whom I could connect.
The room.
That damn room.
That we repainted white (3 coats).
That I won't go in. That closet that is stuffed with maternity clothes and a maternity pillow and random things of the babies that I couldn't part with.

I hate this house.
And no one wants to buy it. No one knows. They don't know how much I want to be out of here. They don't understand the pain I feel when I am here. That it's the one place you're supposed to feel comfortable and I hate it more than anything.

I suppose I can't really run away from it. That the pain is inside of ME not in this place. It's the memories, not the actual rooms and paint and walls that is the problem.

But I want to be gone. I want to go. I want to start over someplace else, hope for a happy us someplace else.

We called the realtor cause we've had no activity lately. He says the only we can do is drop the price. Well, we so would if we could. If we had planned on moving. If we had saved money for that. But we hadn't and we didn't. So we are stuck here. It's quickly approaching winter and soon the market will be slow. Slower than it already is.

One of my friends from school just sold her house.
I am so irrational. All I could think was, She doesn't deserve it! She's only moving because she wants a bigger house! She doesn't NEED it. I NEED it.
First of all, that is so irrational, and I know this.
Second of all, I don't NEED it. I feel like there's a part of me that would be comforted by starting over, by having something to focus on that's a sure thing.
But in life, we don't get what we deserve. People get hurt for no.good.reason. Bad shit happens. And just because it did doesn't mean that I get a free pass in whatever comes next, ya know?

Halloween

Behind...

is how I feel. About everything. But, especially blogging.
I still need to post two awards I got from Kristi at Moon and Back! AND I have to post the hilarious pictures of what Iamstacey sent me in the mail this week.. (thanks to both of you!). Stacey sent me her lucky stuffed sperm, which my dog immediately thought should be his toy, and a stuffed pig in order to honor my piggy flu. You're hilarious!
I am still in the middle of my two week wait (towards the end). I did, however, have a progesterone test last week and it showed that I definitely ovulated and for now is in a good range, so that is good news. I'm going to try to wait and see if my period comes-a part of me would rather see my period than that negative test...I just don't know.
My sister and my nephew are coming in from Milwaukee tonight and are staying until Saturday morning (we have Thursday and Friday off of school! WOOHOO!!!) so I will be busy with them. I have been reading all of your blogs, but not commenting because I can't comment from my school computer, but I am thinking of you and wishing some of you congratulations and sending any positive thoughts I have toward others. I hope you understand when I don't comment right away :(
Last weekend I met my best friend from college to have a "girl's weekend". We sit down and in the first 5 minutes she tells me that, "I asked my husband for a divorce and...well, I've met someone else, another teacher at school. He's married, too, and has a 5 and a 7 year old."
I almost fell off my chair.
What do I say to this?
It was a loooong weekend. I just was so...unsettled, ya know? I know she needs me there for support, but I needed to tell her how I felt and all of that, too. So it was sort of a scandalous weekend and I was left reeling from it.
Then more parent/teacher conferences on Monday.
At the very end, this parent came up to me. We talked about her two sons.
Then, she got close to me, tilted her head and said, "How are YOU doing?"
My heart started to pound.
I think I said something like, "I'm hanging in there."
So, THEN, THEN she asked, "Are you guys going to try again?"
Honestly, not even some of my closest friends have asked me this question. I was totally taken aback.
She just kept going. She told me I had to have hope. How hard it is.
She wouldn't stop.
I just couldn't even believe this woman! I complain all the time about how people don't ask me about the babies but then, whoa! Social boundaries!
Then today at school, the weirdest thing happened. I'll try to sum it up.
-I am terrified of spiders (TERRIFIED)
-the kids know this and think it's hilarious
-they like to joke around with me
-most of the time I think it's funny
-today, there was a PLASTIC BOTTLE FULL OF GIGANTIC UGLY GROSS HUGE LIVE SPIDERS on my desk
-Live spiders
-So not funny
So, I go out to the lunchroom and the kids right away tell me they heard so and so talking about it. I go up to her and she says, "I have a neighbor who got kicked out of school but he's mad at you because you failed him last year and wanted to get back at you so he had me bring them."
So many things wrong with this sentence.
But apparently there is a middle school student out there who is angry with me. In 6 years of teaching, I've had maybe 5 kids get an F in my class. Honestly, it's usually kids that miss a TON of school or something like that. But I'm so bothered by this!!! I know I should just let it go, but yeesh. I'm so not used to this.
Ok, well, I still need to clean the bathroom and get fresh sheets for my sister. Off I go!

:(

-new classes

-H1N1

-parent/teacher conferences, complete with a huge panic attack when a woman came in pushing her double stroller with twin infants

-newest pamper ad in the mail, "Does your baby feel secure?" well, I don't know, they're dead.

-sorry for being bitter, I just need it all out

-my husband at a staff meeting, with 6 people at a table that all know him-one lady whips out her brand new ultrasound pictures and passes them around while they ooh and ahh

-brian's dad's birthday (he passed away after a long, horrible battle with lung cancer last november)

-just all around crap.

this has been a really, really sucky week

I haven't read any of you all week-I can't wait until tomorrow night to come home, get into pjs, and read your blogs. Sorry if I've been away.

Love to you. Sorry for the bitter vent.

When will they come, then?

So, I'm feeling better, which is good. I got a positive opk on Friday, after my fever was already gone. We did what we needed to do. Now, of course, we just wait. Easier said than done, right?

I went back to work today after missing last weds, thurs and fri. The kids were so nice. They would squeal when they saw me. Asked how I was feeling. America's youth is not so bad, y'all-I swear. We spend a lot of time having fun and learning by playing.

But I still hate "work." I think really it's that I hate leaving my home. I want to stay here and wallow and feel sorry for myself. I want to stay wrapped up in my blanket and sleep until I have something better to get up for.

This morning in the shower I decided a whole approach I would take with my husband. When our house finally sells (if) we should get a dirt cheap apartment so I don't have to work. I can just be pregnant at home. Less stress, less sickness, etc. etc.

I guess I know that it wouldn't really make me happy. I guess I know I'd miss it. But I think about it an awful lot. And if I ever talk about quitting, they want to know what I'd rather do or when did I figure out I don't like my career.

Well, I don't hate my career, and if I weren't a teacher I have no idea what I would do...for real. Especially now, I mean-um, hello! Recession!! And I don't live in a big city.

I got into a squabble with my mom over the weekend. It seems like everytime I talk to her she brings up my..well, I guess she's my step-sister only we don't really mix families so I don't consider myself related to her-anyway, she's pregnant. Due in November. She brings this up everytime. Why? I don't care! I just. don't. care.

Last week she brought up that she wasn't sure if she was getting invited to her shower.

Don't care.

This time it was that she had gone out to buy her a gift.

Um, don't care.

Then I had sort of an...interesting conversation with my husband.

We were discussing our trying to conceive efforts, and were talking about if we got pregnant this month, what the due date would be.

He framed the question like this, "So they would come in July, then?"

I think you can see what is wrong with this statement.

I don't think I would have said anything except this is not the first time this, um, freudian slip one could say, has happened.

So I said, "Babe-you do know if we get pregnant it will only be one, right? One baby. If we're lucky. One crib. One boy OR one girl. If we are, you know, really lucky."

He said, "Right. Oh, I know. I got it."

I guess part of it could be we just talked about it in twos before. It's such a big jump to get used to that thought-it took us a while before we were comfortable saying babies instead of baby. It's a lot to handle!

And now we have to reverse. We have to go backwards and make ourselves change back.

It sucks.

All of this, all of this work we have to do when the hard part should be in the past-it's not fair. Infertility after loss is just torture. Changing your mindset is so hard.

Big sigh from me tonight. Glad to be out of bed and plunging into the week ahead, but still just so, so sad.

H1N1

Yep. I have H1N1.

Right in the middle of my cycle.

I feel lousy, I can't stop coughing, my fever is making me shake, and I'm supposed to bd? I'm thinking we wasted a lot of money this month. I keep googling, "Can flu delay ovulation?" because I still haven't gotten a positive opk.

Feeling really sorry for myself :( Celebrating 6 months of hell with the freaking swine flu.

ARGH. I'm here and reading, but haven't commented much. Know I'm thinking of you all!

Too much.

This is all too much for me.

Too many things happening, too many things coming up.

Tomorrow, October 13th, will make 6 months since Aiden and Sophie came and left. Impossible. They have been gone as long as they were ever here.

October 21st will be the first birthday that my father-in-law won't be here to celebrate with us.

November 2nd is the day he left this earth, exactly one year ago.

2 weeks later, we conceived the twins.

It's all coming so fast. It's all so much.

So many memories, and dates, and things to remember and things to do and work is stressful and I just feel like I can't stand up. Like there is so much on my back, holding me back, holding me down.

I need strength to make it through these next few months. I am happy about trying again, but just know how stressful it will be if it doesn't work right away. I dread that negative pregnancy test (but hope for a positive, don't worry).

Ugh. Monday on top of it!!!

Peace to you all.

Quick update :)

Uterine lining: 9 mm (they like at least 7)

Right ovary: lookin' poly cystic

Left ovary: one (one!!!!) follicle, measuring 14 mm

Plan:

start taking opks monday-will prob o mid of next week

once I get the positive, try that night and the next two nights

call for a blood test to test progesterone

So, I guess it's all "good" news. Femara is working, only one follicle, looking like I just am a late ovulator. If this month doesn't work-or if progesterone is low, etc., then we'll have to re-look into our plan.

I am not feeling so happy, though-because, frankly-there's not much great about having an uncomfortable ultrasound to look at your empty (baby-less) insides. I just really, really hate ultrasounds. A lot.

Obsessed

Last night I had a dream. In it, I was working at this daycare when I was in college. I did actually work there-it was at a church in a nearby town. That summer, I lived at home, my parents were still together (this was the last summer before they got a divorce) and I was dating J, my high school boyfriend. You know, my first *true love*.

Anyway, in this dream, I was still working there, but this time I was pregnant. And each day when I got to work, I knew my baby was one step closer to dying. So I'd try to skip work but everyone was making me go-they didn't know that it would make my baby closer to dying. Then I realized that not only was my baby dying a little more every day, so was one of my co-workers. And we had to decide which one of our babies got to live and which one had to die. It got long and creepy and muddled up after that.

Obviously disturbing. Now here's the weird part. Something I, quite honestly, had completely forgotten about. The summer that I worked at this daycare, I worked side-by-side with this girl named April. She was a few years older than me, already out of college, but I think she was a teacher so she wanted extra money in the summer. The two of us took care of the school aged children-took them on field trips, to the movies, outside. It was actually really fun. We really hit it off and became friends.

At the beginning of the next school year, she got married to a great guy, and I was invited to the wedding (the wedding itself is a whole other story cause I took this creepo of a guy). A few months later, I got a card in the mail from her with a balloon in it, announcing her pregnancy. When you blew it up, it said "It's a girl!". I remember being excited. We slowly lost touch, though. She was married and pregnant, I was a sophomore in college.

The next time I heard from her, I got a letter in the mail announcing the birth of her baby. Only it also announced the death of the baby. For the life of me, I can't remember why or how the baby died. I can remember, now that I think back, the pictures of she and her husband looking so sad. I have those same pictures now.

I remember thinking, "oh, how can that be? That's so sad." And I remember doing NOTHING. Not sending a card. Not sending my condolences.

You see, my boyfriend, remember, my *true love* had dumped me. I had a "broken heart." I know we all think that way. I know I'm not alone. But I SO know what a broken heart truly, truly is now.

I am all of the sudden obsessed with finding this woman. The problem is, I only remember now that her name was April. That she lived in a nearby town. Married a guy named Mike. Her wedding was in Milwaukee. I just feel this desperation to reach her. To apologize. To tell her that I had NO idea. To connect.

I have been googling random combinations of things ALL day. I can't figure it out. I mean, this was like 8 or 9 years ago. She probably lives somewhere else. It is driving me crazy!

In ttc news, I have finished my round of femara and on Saturday I have my up the va-jay-jay ultrasound to look at my follices. I absolutely have no idea what that will entail. The number, the size? I don't know. I'm nervous. I'm nervous that this won't work at all. I'm nervous that it will!

Femara and Apples and Pumpkins, Oh My!

Well, we are back from a whirlwhind weekend. We left school early on Friday to go to the appointment at the fertility doctor, then sold tickets at the homecoming football game, then drove 4 hours home to my mom's house. It was her birthday this weekend and we have a tradition to go to this beautiful apple orchard and a super fun pumpkin patch with my mom, my sister, and my nephew. This is the 4th year that we've gone. We got back today and had some friends come over to help us move a chandelier and ceiling fan in our house for better staging purposes. We have had 5 showings in 3 weeks, which is amazing and we're hoping one perfect person will come by!

Anyway, the appointment went really, really well. The doctor, Dr. R, was SO amazingly nice. And-surprisingly and refreshingly-she had read through ALL my notes. Even those that the mfm had made about the twins and thereafter. She said that I am "lucky." Because although I am infertile, we appear to be the most fertile of the infertile, i.e. all we need is a little stimulation and my body does what it is supposed to do. So, we talked a lot, but the plan is:

*Take femara days 4 through 8 (today is day 6)

*Day 12 (this coming saturday) have a transvaginal ultrasound to see number of follicles (just one please, please, please-at least one?)

*If there is one, go ahead with timed intercourse

I feel good about the femara, even though it was $73 for 5 pills (!). It has a 4% chance of multiples, as opposed to clomid's 8-10 %. It has way less side effects. It is equal to a half tablet of clomid, but even with less chance of multiples, so that's good. So far I'm on my 3rd day and I have zero side effects. No headaches/hot flashes. Nothing.

It made it hard to concentrate this weekend. I am wishing for time to fly by. I had a hard time having such a "fun" time over the weekend. I kept imagining myself pushing a double stroller around the Apple Orchard with the twins. Taking pictures with them instead of just my nephew. It was one of those things, I guess. I know it'll happen.

I'll leave you with a few pictures :)

um, you guys?

Has my "about me" section always said that I gave birth to two babies AND a dog?

For real?

And none of you could've, um, told me about that?

Or at least asked HOW I gave birth to a dog?

LOL. I am snorting. I'm seriously mad at you all.

The doc is in!

Soooooo....Aunt Flo came for a visit today.

I don't know whether to be relieved or sad. Both, I guess.

I was at work today, and I had this little cramp, and I was like, Oh-guess I'm getting my period-huh-I guess I knew that was coming, ya know...eventually.

So, then at lunch I got really mad. This period took 41 days to come! My appointment at the fertility doctor is not until oct. 19th, so I'll just waste this dumb very long cycle because I'm not on metformin, or clomid, or anything. I could have sex every other day until next year and it wouldn't matter!

So, I decided to call. I left a LOOOOONG, rambling message for the nurse of the fert. doc I've been assigned to.

It went something like,

"I started my period today and so I was wondering if the doctor even though she hasn't met me could just prescribe me the clomid i've taken it before ya know so yeah and then she could just make me an appointment to have an u/s cause all i really need is an u/s because, well, i've been pregnant before but I conceived twins but I can't have twins this time because it's too dangerous because you see they were born prematurely and they didn't live and see my cyles are like 40 or 50 days long sometimes and ohhhh and I'm rambling oh and my birthday is 5.31.81 and yeah. Ok, thanks!"

Deep breath.

Then, after school, I heard my cell phone buzzing. I look and it's the clinic!!! I was shocked actually. Just a few hour long turn around. It was the NICEST nurse EVAR. No lie. She started OFF by saying, "Honey, I just want you to know right away how sorry I am for your loss. We want to get you started down a good path again and we want things to end wonderfully this time."

And she was SINCERE.

And then she said that I was lucky (HA) because my doctor is never in on Tuesdays, but she was there today and so she was able to ask her about my message.

SO!!! She (the doc) didn't feel comfortable prescribing me anything without meeting me (I knew that would happen, I guess I'm actually glad about that) BUT she was going to fit me in at 2:00 on Friday. THIS FRIDAY!!!!! Just a half hour, more directed appointment. And she has a new medication in mind, letrozole (femara brandname-anyone familiar with this?) that works like clomid but has a less chance of multiples! I have to go tomorrow to take a pregnancy test at the clinic (trust me, I have so many negative pregnancy tests it's not even funny) because a study showed it caused birth defects if taken AFTER conception (it is a breast cancer drug as well).

She's fitting me in after her work hours are over on a FRIDAY!!!!!

I'm way, way excited, right? I call my husband and I'm psyched because it's homecoming parade here on Friday so we don't even have to take off work. It'll be day 4 of my cycle, which is the day you start taking the medicine. I don't know what it will all involve or how the u/s will go or anything.

Then, it sinks in. I could take this medication on Friday and then ovulate and then I could be pregnant again. In a few weeks! What if!?!?!?

And this could happen again.

But it won't.

But it could.

Whoa. So excited to be "officially" trying again. Even though I know it could be a long road just to even get pregnant and then what's after that is....well, terrifying. I am feeling a little hopeful today!

A million years

After filling out the one zillion page questionnaire (read: one zillion equals 6 double sided pages), the fertility clinic called me today to make an appointment.

October 19th.

It seems a MILLION years away. I just wanted to be pregnant before the time I got pregnant last year. Not gonna happen. Why am I whining about this? Who knows how long it will take anyway!?

I just want to call my nurse practitioner and have her give me the clomid-she's who gave it to me before-but in order to have the transvaginal ultrasound after to check for the nuber of follicles (to avoid multiples), I have to go to the fertility clinic. ALL I need is a dumb u/s!!!!!! (well, I hope. I really, really hope).

Over the weekend we found THE house. Not even kidding. It was so much better than the other one that I loved and only 5,000 more. It already has an offer but they have a contingency on selling their house. oooooohhhhhhh I want this house!

I feel it will take (you guessed it) a million years for our house to sell.

Please help-how do you regain your patience? How do you not feel like every single thing in life you have to wait so much longer than everyone else for?

ARGH!!!!!!!!

Mystery

Here are the two main mysteries of my life (ya know, for today):

1. Still no period. Finally let myself test again today. Could not be more negative. And since it's about a million days past ovulation (well, actually it's more like there was no ovulation, I'm guessing), it's a negative for sure kinda negative. I hope the fertility clinic calls me soon to schedule my appointment. I'm wondering if it could hurt to take a week of birth control to make my period come. Although, since I don't have the clomid yet, that's rather pointless.

2. The mystery of selling a house. So, we had a house showing on Thursday. We were sort of annoyed because our realtor called at 4:30 and said...so, I forgot to call you last night-could you have a showing tonight between 5:30 and 6:30? I was annoyed, but honestly, I can't say no to a showing, so I ran around sweeping and vaccuuming. Anyway, we get home, and on the counter, there is this little, um...package? I guess you'd call it. Instead of the realtors business card, there is a little package. It has a ribbon, and a little tag that says "many thanks" and a poem (something about the sunshine in my heart) and it is attached to a granola bar.

Yes, I said granola bar.

What?

Have any of you ever left a "treat" at a home you went through????

So, this is what is keeping me up at night. That, and so much more, of course :) I'm so frustrated with my body, so frustrated with having to keep to myself at school so often. I like being alone right now, but I resent the fact that I have to. I don't know if that makes sense.

We spent the whole night last night with our friends K and M, who just adopted a baby boy. They looked so, so, so happy. Every single thing he does makes your heart melt. I just, so desperately want to feel that happiness. I know it won't erase this pain, but I just...I'm so desperate. I feel SO desperate....

Well, off I go to do laundry, go grocery shopping...ya know, the fun fun fun weekend stuff we have to do when we grow up!

Fragile

Sunday night after I finished my post, my husband and I were climbing into bed when the phone rang. It was after 10 pm and so we voted (unanimously) to ignore the call. A few minutes later it rang again and we reluctantly answered.

It was a colleague from school.

A girl, a senior at my husband's high school, whose litter brother is an 8th grader at my school, had been up on a bluff near our house and went outside of the fence at the lookout area. She slipped and fell.

To her death.

Her boyfriend was with her and he lost sight of her and started screaming for her but couldn't find her so someone called 911.

School has been full of tears. The meeting before school to discuss a tragedy. The guidance counselors instructing us on "tips for grief."

It brought everything back so strongly.

As much as I am hurting for this family, I couldn't help but be brought back into the very depths of my grief.

Last night was the visitation. I saw hundreds of students, ones that I have had in past years, with faces of fear and pain and grief. It just broke my heart over and over again.

Too much. Too much pain. This beautiful, beautiful girl with her future still ahead of her.

Then I think, my beautiful babies with their whole future ahead of them.

It's all to close to home. I really struggled. I felt guilty for thinking about MYself when this family is going through something so, so, terribly tragic.

A misstep. A bad choice. The end.

The boy that was with her, her boyfriend, I had as a student 3 years in a row. He has an amazing heart. He's so polite, so kind. So funny and fun.

He stood there, in front of the casket, for minutes at a time, sobbing. Sobbing from down in his core.

He blames himself, I thought. Of course he does.

I hugged him tightly and tried to say something, like-I know the guilt. In such a different way, but I know it. Please know it's not your fault.

He's only 17.

I am clinging to my husband. These constant remembers that life is SO fragile. That you never know.

I am on what would be cycle day 33. Still no period. Last Thursday night, I was lying in bed and I felt my period coming. Cramping. I looked at my husband and teared up. "Period coming, I said." In the middle of that night, I wiped and saw tiny twinges of pink blood. This confirmed that AF was on her way and I felt so bummed out.

Then it didn't come.

And didn't come.

So on cycle day 31, I tested. Negative.

I HATE THIS. I hate that the test says negative and my period doesn't come. I hate that my husband will just say, "Don't give up! Maybe the test was wrong."

But really, is the test wrong? No. It's cruel for me to keep thinking that it might change.

But my brain, it doesn't listen to me.

You see, my periods used to be SUPER irregular (pcos). Like 90 days long sometimes. But ever since giving birth, they have been between 30-31 days each and every month.

Maybe what you felt on Thursday night was implantation? You o'd late, then? It wouldn't even show up for a few more days! Remember when the nurse said never to test until day 40? Or wait a week a test.

I HATE IT.

I want to drink caffeine. Say F it and give up.

But the tiniest part of my brain says, "What if...?"

And it is so cruel.

25 months ago I threw away the birth control. I know people wait much longer, go through more treatments, more or different losses.

But you just don't ever imagine this happening when you are a little girl.

You just can never guess :(

So, anyway, I'll have to be moving on to the clo.mid since I had to stop taking the met.formin. This is not good for me because now the risk of multiples increases. Not by much, I realize, but I conceived twins on one dose of 50 mg, so...yeah. Anyway, in order to do this, it involved me calling the fertility center. So I called and said I needed a new patient appointment. She asked, "Do you know what you need? Like, IVF, or what?"

This question took me off guard.

So I told her what happened. That I had conceived using clomid, but lost the twins, and multiples is too dangerous for me now.

She said, "Oh."

This is my LEAST FAVORITE ANSWER. I don't know, sometimes, why I expect anything different from "Oh." I don't know what I want. Do I want them to fall all over me, expressing their sadness and condolences and concern? Not really. But "Oh" always gets me :(

I'm thinking of all of you ladies out there tonight. Wishing we were meeting on a different part of the internet. Wishing you all had your little ones. Just thinking of you.

crumbling

negative pregnancy test. still no period. must be creating my own symptoms.

house that we really, really wanted-sold. drove by to see them packing up their moving van.

first time seeing family since babies died=no one even mentioned a thing. like it didn't even happen.

middle schoolers=stressful.

really, really want to run far, far away.

trying so hard to see the "light" instead of the "dark." I promise-I'm trying.

Friendship Award

Nan, at Remembering our Triplet Angels, nominated me for an award! It is the Friendship Award! Nan-you are the sweetest. You are so kind and supportive and always thinking of others. Thank you for thinking of me!

Ok, so here are the rules:

"This award is bestowed on to blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to six bloggers who must choose six more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

It is so hard to pick just 6! Here I go:

Kristy @ I love you to the moon and back

Tina @ Living without Sophia and Ellie

Akul's mama @ Aaajaa Akul

Catherine W @ Between the Snow and the Huge Roses

Niccole @ Missing Kasey

and

Bluebird @ Little Bluebirds Fly

You are all so sweet and have helped me through so many hard spots early on in this grief. Thank you! :)

Musings

Conversation* today, in my room after school is over, with the custodian.

We see E walk by, who yells, cheerfully, "Good night, Christy!". She just recently got engaged to another teacher in my school.

S, the custodian says, "Someone should tell her that she shouldn't be so happy. Tell her that it's getting married that really begins the aging process."

I say, "Yep."

S says, "Heh. Then comes kids. You reaaaaallllly start to age once you have kids."

I say (in my head), "Then those babies die. You really, really start to age once they die."

I say (aloud), "Yep."

*if conversation means that he complains about life and how bad the students are while I try like crazy to get my work finished so that I can go home and nod or grunt at appropriate pauses in said conversation

this song is amazing-it's where someday I hope I will be (though I'm not so confident!)

Guilt

So this morning, I get to school and I can think is, "exactly 5 months ago to the minute I was on the way to the NICU to visit Aiden, only to find out that he was going to die. 5 months ago I held my son for the first and the last time. I had a son. I had a son."

I thought, "How can I focus on work? How can I do this?" I started to break. I started to panic. Who could I call? What do I do? I can't do this, I can't do this.

But I did it. And so I got ready for the day, pulling out games/flashcards that I'd need, changing the date, writing the days activities on the board. Turned on the French music (a little too loud) and sat at my desk, pulling up attendance and the daily announcements.

E-mail pops up.

From my dad.

E-mails from my dad always make me feel a little funny (we haven't had any sort of relationship since 7 years ago when my parents divorced suddenly-he left us for the lady across the street-and did a lot of nasty things after). Today it makes me sort of nauseous.

"Dear Christy,

I was scanning some pictures over the weekend and thought I'd send them to you to see."

I open them up, and it's about 30 pictures of me when I was a little baby/toddler with my dad.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything. This. This is what Sophie might have looked like. At least a little. She would have looked like this a little. At least. If not just alike.

I was in a panic the whole rest of the day.

Why would he send those? Typically I feel like it's guilt. He signed it "Miss you, Dad."

I haven't seen him for a couple of years now. And it was a couple of years before that the last time. He certainly wasn't scanning pictures over the weekend-the album was in picasa and marked march 2007 (he must think I'm a moron).

The guilt eats away at me, a little bit each day. I should be a better daughter. I'm his only daughter. What if, what if, what if. I should, I should, I should.

HE did it. He left us. He yelled at us-he pushed me into a closet-he threw things and swore at us and my mother. HE DID IT.

But the guilt is mine now. And it will be until I initiate some kind of contact with him beyond e-mail.

Maybe he wasn't perfect. Perhaps he deserves another chance. Maybe these pictures are to remind me that he was such a good father. Perhaps I am remembering wrong. Perhaps this is propaganda.

But the guilt eats at me from another direction-if I initiate contact with him, my mom and my sister (not his biological daughter-honestly what the h does that matter) get angry with me. I can't tell them. "He'll just hurt you again, " my mom says.

"You're talking to THAT psycho?" my sister asks. Doesn't call for a few weeks.

Mostly, I think-why today? Why today, of all days? Doesn't anybody know? Doesn't anybody know that on the 13th and 14th I grieve harder? My babies died on these days. They left me and my arms that ache for them ache harder on these days.

Mostly, I wonder-how can I survive this? How can so many people I love leave me? How can I look past all of this? How can I carry this guilt and sadness but still hold on to some hope? How is my heart ever going to heal from this?

On this day...

5 months ago,

Sophie and Aiden made their way into this world.

They made their way into this world much, much too early.

I sit here this morning, not being able to sleep. Thinking of this day 5 months ago. The pain, the blood, the fear, the sickness.

The choices.

The hushed voices.

The despair.

The delivery room haunts me. Dr.P holding my knee, just chatting with the other doctor on staff. "You just can't trust the second twin, ya know." He'd say, and then rub my belly with the ultrasound wand.

Brian, not saying anything. No happy daddy here. Just one that is terrified.

Babies are whisked away. Blood is cleaned up. We are left alone.

Alone.

Sophie and Aiden,

It is impossible for me to believe that you're not still coming. That you're not just still on your way. I think I will always, always be waiting for you to arrive. I miss you more than any words I could put on this screen. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to live this.

Today I am filled what what-ifs and what-should have beens.

But Today I am filled with love you for, and pride. I am so proud that you existed. I hear your names and I crumble because you did exist.

I wish I could tell you so many more things.

I wish so, so many things.

I love you.

Breathe

It's the weekend.

I can kind of breathe.

This week was hard. Really, really hard. After only 2 weeks, I am so tired of pretending. So tired of putting on a smile and acting silly and trying to trick my students into thinking that I am still myself.

So, I have no idea what is going on with my body right now. I blogged before that we tried to conceive this month. Well, earlier this week I started to feel really weird things-sore breasts, some headaches, a little nausea. Then yesterday I woke up and thought, "I have a urinary tract infection." So, after school I headed to urgent care. The lady there said that since it was still business hours, I would need to go upstairs to my family doctor's nurse and have her ask me some questions so I could get a test.

So, I went up. Up to the family practice, which is right next to pediatrics. And right next to obgyn. I felt sick. I resented it.

So I wait, and then a nurse comes to get me. And she is the nurse, I realize immediately, that was there for my very first pregnancy appointment when she goes over all the basics.

I'm so mad.

So she is going throw this flow chart of questions and gets to, "Could you be pregnant?"

And I don't know what to say. It's really too early for me to say yes, but I can't say no, but I don't really want to answer.

So I say yes.

She insists I take a blood test before she treats me.

I don't want to.

I don't want to hear that negative. Even if I am, it's way too early to tell. Seriously. Only day 21 of a 31 day cycle.

So she makes me.

I listen to the voicemail, "Christine, the blood test results came back negative...." and I crumble. Crumble to the floor. Of course it's negative. Of course by the time I got it I had somehow convinced myself it could actually be positive. I hate this. I hate that they made me. And then I hear her say, "But, actually, you would have gotten teh same treatment whether or not you were pregnant."

WHAT? I so did not need to even take that test!!!! ARGGGH!

So here I am today, my breasts are SO sore. They hurt just to touch them. I have headaches. I'm tired. And now all I can think is, what is wrong with me? What is making this happen? I'm not pregnant. Am I imagining it because I want it so bad? Stress can cause a lot of this, I suppose.

Then, I made the decision tonight that I have to stop the met.formin. I haven't really said much about it, but over 6 weeks later, it is making me sick. I tried to give it as much time as I could, but seriously-every day I have to run to the bathroom between classes. The weight is melting off of me, which is welcomed, but I'm too sick. My stomach is starting to hurt from going to the bathroom in that fashion so much. I have to call the doc but in the meantime, I just can't handle it. This is mostly bad because I do not want to take clo.mid and the met is my only other option at this point.

This week was so, so hard. I'm so glad for the weekend. I'm so glad to have a little time.

I don't have a title for this and I don't want to decide one

Ok, so I used to like to be in control(ish). I liked being a part of the decision-making-giving input, talking things out, looking at pros and cons and then making an educated decision.

I remember that one time in my life, I freaked out because I was so sick of hearing my name-it was my wedding day. We were all in the "dressing room" at the church and I swear-all anyone was saying was, "Christy! Do you want..." "Christy! Is this ok?" "Christy! Did you notice..."

I remember completely losing it, bridezilla style.

"I SWEAR IF ONE MORE PERSON IN THIS ROOM SAYS MY NAME I AM GOING TO GO COMPLETELY CRAZY. YES, I KNOW, YES I WANT, YES I NOTICED-I AM GETTING MARRIED IN 3 MINUTES AND I AM NERVOUS!!!!!!"

Total, complete silence ensued.

I've had a few of those freak out moments in my classroom-mostly around the time that Brian's dad was dying/died, but I immediately apologized and the kids, thankfully, realize that it's not me all the time, just then.

Then the babies came, and left. And I had to make all the decisions. God bless my husband-I love him so, so much. But in a NICU (in my experience), they looked to me, the mother.

Quick decisions. You have only seconds.

The most important decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Sophie and Aiden were barely in the NICU for 24 hours.

What if I would have told them to try again to resuscitate Aiden.

What if I would have insisted on a head xray, even though they told me with all the blood he was losing, he was surely bleeding on his brain.

What if I wouldn't have said, "Turn off the machines, I just want to hold him."

What if I wouldn't have held them both-I really just wanted to run away. To pretend.

Now, I hate making any kind of decision. What's for dinner? Which way should we take? Which grading system should we use? I resent being asked. What does it matter, anyway?

I DON'T GIVE A DAMN.

I don't care.

I don't give a shit what we are having for dinner. My babies are dead-what does it matter?

I feel incapable of making decisions. It makes me feel like less of a person-like I'm somehow less than I was before. I wonder if this will go away.

I think I may have ovulated about 7 days ago.

My breasts are sore, I have a dull ache down low. Since I've been on met.formin, I haven't had any pms symptoms at all-just a sudden, heavy flow of blood.

It feels suspiciously the same as the last time.

It must be a trick. I must be imagining it. My brain says, "Slow down." My fingers type to Dr. Google, "How soon after ovulation could you feel pregnancy symptoms?"

I get a bunch of random responses from what must be 17 year olds that, for some reason, do not know how to spell anything.

Honestly, I have no hopes for this. We tried on a whim-literally decided that morning and then had sex every other day for a while. Nothing really planned out. No meds to assist us.

And even if, for some reason, it worked-I have it in my head that I will have a miscarriage-it seems like the thing to do after a loss. It seems like if you lose a baby, you certainly must be inflicted with another loss.

I am so pessimistic, I am so bitter. My brain wins out with this, but cannot handle the decision making function. Not being a great decision maker might not make for an amazing middle school teacher. They have so many questions. I hear my name so many million times a day.

I know that all of you reading this are going, "I know, honey-I know."

I wish we didn't know. I spend my days wishing. For me, for all of us.

Today, on facebook:

"Baby S made their way into the world today! What a great reminder that all is right in the world!"

Yeah. Maybe in your world.

Not in mine.

Fuck.

We are everywhere

So, the first few days of school have been....well, good. If I were just looking at it from a job perspective, I would say great. When you mix in the life stuff, it goes down to just good.

Ok, I have to stop and say I feel so guilty about posting anything at ALL because I just start thinking about Mirne and Craig....but I will keep going because I guess that's all I know how to do!

Anyway, my classes are good. I have two 7th grade classes that had my long-term sub at the end of last year and have me now. The good part of this, is that they all absolutely swear that I am the greatest teacher ever and that they feel so lucky to have me now. The bad part of this is that since it was pretty much an emergency, the sub for me really wasn't a French teacher and so I have to start all over with them. In the scheme of life, this doesn't matter. Really. So, anyway, I'm having fun getting to know the 180 students I have at once!!!!

So, last night we had open house. This is a time when parents can come in with their children and meet their teachers, see their classrooms. I actually wasn't too worried about it. I was so tired and not looking forward to being at work from 7 am until 7 pm, but that was about it. I guess I wasn't really prepared for how it would affect me.

Parents with their kids. The pride they show on the faces. The smiles they get when you're speaking about them. That look. You know the look-the one they get when they look at their child, the love of their life. It gets me right down deep. Sophie and Aiden won't make it to middle school and that is something that I just find hard to believe. Part of me is still waiting for this to be a nightmare that I will wake up from. Part of me, I think, will always be waiting.

Then, I realized that WE are everywhere. Babylost mamas. We're hidden in places that you just don't know. A boy and his mom came in. He is a 7th grader, a boy that I should have had last spring but was out on my maternity leave. His mom came up to me and introduced herself. There was a language barrier; she was a native Spanish speaker. Typically, I only see 6th graders, new to the school, on open house. I told her that I enjoyed having her son in class and she nodded and smiled. We talked a little more, but it was clear that the language barrier was making it hard, there was a natural pause in the conversation and I thought she'd walk away-there were other parents waiting. She started to walk away and then she said, "How are you?" which I thought was kind of odd, because we had already been talking. I just looked at her and said, "I'm doing well, thank you." She and her son started to walk away and then he stopped. He said, "My mom wants to tell you she's sorry about your babies."

My pulse quickened and my mouth turned dry. I couldn't lose it now, not in front of all of these parents-I felt like they were all listening in.

She leaned close into me and whispered, with a thick accent, "I lost one, too. I had twins and one died. Every time I look at her I feel so bad that I can't see the other one. It hurts me bad. I'm so sorry for you."

I thought immediately of Catherine W and tears sprang to my eyes. I looked into this woman's eyes and I could see a little of ME.

She hugged me tight. And she left.

I don't know how to explain how this left me reeling. I don't know how to explain how this made me feel. Such utter sadness, way down deep. Such love for this woman I did not know. Such gratitude for her taking the time to talk to me. Such, such, such sadness.

I am making through this week, begrudgingly. I feel such resentment that I have to be there. I feel so tired. I feel like I don't have the time anymore to grieve. I feel like I'm just pretending, walking through life on autopilot. I'm having fun, but it's not the same. I guess I'm just getting by.