Saturday, September 25, 2010


Seriously-life is SO hard. And I'm not even really talking about MY life. I just mean life in general.

Does it feel like you just hear so much sad news? Or does it just overshadow the good news?

I don't know. I've been thinking so much about some of my fellow bloggy mamas lately-begging the universe-please let IVF work--please please please let those twins be ok--please let all rainbow babies be healthy. And I sometimes focus so much on it that I am stalking people's and letting myself maybe get too involved. Perhaps it's unhealthy. I just want everything to get better for people. And when it doesn't-I get SO frustrated. And it's not even about me!

At any rate, today has been a weird day for me. I've spent a lot of it crying. First I found out some bad news about a few bloggy friends. Then when A woke up I realized that her fussiness lately may be a little more than just fussiness because she woke up sounding congested. I called right away and we took her into the pediatrician and she is diagnosed with RSV. She's not even 3 months old yet :( Doc said she picked it up most likely at the doctor's office when she had her 2 month well visit. She's been spitting up and having weird eating habits since then.

I am terrified now because 500 babies a year die from this. Doctor says it's mild-that she's not wheezing-that A was full term and she's healthy and a great weight. I keep thinking I know I've read stories where someone had a sickness, but an ok from the doctor and their baby went to sleep and didn't wake up.

I can't think she's going to die everytime she gets sick. Rainbow mommies, does this go away? I think I know the answer to that.

Anyway, then my cell phone starts beeping like crazy-just as I'm getting A settled next to her humidifier. A 7th grader from my school died last night.

Damn it.

Life sucks.

I want to reach out to that mom.

But wouldn't she just laugh at me? Our loss is not the same.

But anyway. A 7th grader died in a car accident and she was with two other girls from my school, both of whom I can only imagine will have ptsd from this.

Ugh. I need to get myself in a better place so that I can do positive things for people. Instead of sitting around and crying and feeling life all of life is a bad place!!!!!!!!! I'm super sleep deprived and worried and all around a disaster. But, as usual, it helps a little to pound this out and hopefully a nap and a warm bath and some snuggles with the sicky-poo will help.


Thursday, September 23, 2010


So, is guilt something that we "allow" to happen? How do you curve it?

I feel guilt about so many things. And I don't exactly know how to stop. We all know how much guilt there is surrounding trying to be a mama to babies that aren't with us anymore. Then there is guilt about being "good enough" ( a good enough wife, daughter, etc.).

As I make my way through this journey of being a parent to a living child, I've felt a lot of guilt about things (which I'm pretty sure is natural). You always second guess yourself-am I doing this enough? Is she getting enough of this? Am I reading her signals correctly? Is she happy? I"m only guessing that this gets harder as you go along because providing for an infant comes down to somewhat predictable things (food, change diaper, cuddle, etc. etc.)

But oh-I said it. Food.

I think I've mentioned before that I was not able to breastfeed.

And when I say "not able" I actually mean it-as in I HAD NO BREASTMILK. Not a drop. Not even like-oh, I had a low supply and had to supplement formula.

But I was still told, "You need to try harder!"

Um. Hello? Is this thing on? Did you hear me? I don't have ANY breastmilk.

So people suggested a breastmilk bank. Which I googled right away, of course, and there is one in my state-3 hours away. Not gonna work.

So, anyway-my daughter was starving. Literally. She had lost something like 12% of her birthweight 4 days later.

She had some trouble finding a formula that didn't upset her belly-and I called the ped's office and talked to a nurse. Her suggestion? "If you are having so many issues with the formula, maybe you should think about relactating."

Well, maybe I could if I had lactated in the FIRST PLACE! I was so mad at that lady...grrrrr....

So she is getting formula. Now, I lucked out this time because she is currently using Good.Start formula, and so it's not part of the recall. But it's been a part of recalls before! And so have eggs, and lettuce, and beef, and children's tylenol, and cribs and...

You get my point.

So why, might I ask-are people making formula into something judgmental? All last night I just kept getting ticked off-I kept reading things like,
"Well, breastmilk has never been recalled."
"Go breastfeeders!"

Um, really? Go breastfeeders? Right now?

When they recalled eggs, did someone post, "Good thing I grow my own chickens in my backyard! Go farmers!"

I mean, maybe some of us thought it :) But-it's not helpful. Especially when we are so worried.

I just don't get how we can berate and make other mommys feel so bad-even if it is for a "joke"-to make them feel judged. And yes, if you are able to breastfeed-you should be proud! It's hard work!!! It's not something that is easy for most people. And you should be proud if you own your own chickens, too! But I mean-my body has failed me in so many ways and if I let myself think about it, it makes me feel so horrible. That tiny little voice in the back of your head saying, "You shouldn't even have a baby, your baby can't even do it" could win if I didn't keep reminding it to shut.up.

It's hard to be a mom. To living babies and to lost ones. But most of us are doing the very best that we can!!!!!!

Ok, I just needed to get that off my chest!!!!!!!! :)

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Bits About This and That

I miss them.
I can't believe it happened.
I feel like I don't love them enough.
I feel like my family doesn't remember them.
I feel like I'm so scared that something will happen to her.
It's so unfair.
I love her so much.
I wonder what it would be like if they were here.
I wonder what they would have looked like.
I feel guilt.
I feel anger.
I feel sadness.
I am elated.
I can't believe she's here.


So, something different. I doubt you're going to make it to the end of this because I have no idea where this is even headed. It's just that my heart is heavy.

Autumn is here. I love it. The changing of the seasons is one of the reasons why I'm not sure I could live anywhere but the midwest. We are wearing sweatshirts and the air is crisp. Upstairs there is an apple cider candle burning, making the whole house smell like autumn.

I'm not sure why, but it is always the start of this season when I get homesick. I live 3.5 hours away from the town in which I grew up. A tiny town of just under 1,000 people. I love it and I miss it. Mostly, I miss my mom-even though I see her as much as I can, I wish she were just down the street. I wish I could stop by whenever I feel like it. I wish she could see Avery whenever she wanted. I wish we could go shopping on Saturdays together. I've lived away for over 10 years now. I have a home here. A beautiful home, a great husband, a good job. I wonder if I will always feel like that is home?

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I had a really messed up thing happen when I was in college. My parents got divorced. I mean, I know that I'm not the only one with divorced parents. And they needed to get divorced. But it happened like this:

I came home from college because I needed to get a root canal.
That night I was very sick from a bad reaction to the anesthesia.
My dad told my mom that they were going out to dinner with the neighbors.
She told him that she was not going because someone needed to stay with me since I was sick.
He said she was going.
She said she would not and he could just go by himself if it was so important.
So he did.

I went back to school and two days later my mom called to tell me that she was moving out. She did and I never got to go back to the house in which I grew up. I never got any of my things-my momentos and photographs and books. I never got one last look around. I never got to go out to the swing where my grandmother and I used to sit.

When I was little I was very aware of the fact that my parents hated each other. I was VERY aware of the fact that people walking by our house and our neighbors could hear my parents screaming at each other day after day. I knew that when my dad was in a "mood" (which was very often) I should retreat immediately to my room, shut the door, and turn on my favorite music as loud as I could.

I knew that when my dad called me terrible names and that I wasn't supposed to believe them.

What I also know is that people have it much, much worse than this. BUT in the interest of being honest, I did not luck out in the father department. He has terrible anger issues and he berated me, put me down, screamed at me, made me feel like nothing I could do would ever be right. He was worse to my sister. He never hit us, but once he shoved me in a closet because when I had opened the scream door to get something off the deck the dog had gotten out. I feel like if provoked, he would've hit me. I never EVER said anything back to him during his rage-I just cried and hid.

He was having an affair with a neighbor. The one he went to dinner with the night of my root canal.

He sucks. And everyone tells me I'm stronger because of it. Stronger because I don't believe the things he told me. Stronger because I can remember in 4th grade wishing my parents would get divorced. Wishing that my father wouldn't use those words. Wishing that my mother would tell him off. Wishing that someone would see.

Three of my grandparents died within one year. Stronger.

I watched my father-in-law die of cancer. Stronger.

I was struck with infertility. Stronger.

I watched my babies die. Stronger.

I would rather be weak, I think.

I have a colleague at work who lost her husband suddenly to a heart aneurysm. We were having a heart to heart about loss and she told me that at this point she's worked so hard in her grief and has made so many changes in herself that she wouldn't take him back. Wouldn't take him back.

I have mulled this over and over.

I can't grasp it. I am sure that I could never say that. That I couldn't say I would never take them back.

But what if to get them back I would have to never have had Avery?

I am so glad I will never have to even think about that because it is impossible.

Ok, I think I need to stop-my brain is nearing it's end of connection-making :) Thank you for reading this if you made it to the end. I am just having one of those days of nostalgia...or something like that.

Monday, September 13, 2010

2 months *rainbow mentioned*

So, I just got back from miss Avery's 2 month check-up.

She weights 12 pounds 11 ounces!! She's in the 90th percentile for weight!!! What a chunky monkey!

She is 23 inches long, which is the 50th percentile.

And her head circumference is 15.7 inches, which is the 75th percentile.

Here is an updated photo:

I look at her and I am so in love. I can see beautiful Sophie and Aiden in her, too, and it makes me happy :) Today marks 17 months since we said hello to our beautiful babies. I can hardly believe it's been that long. We have ice cream every 13th for them-to celebrate that they were here. Hopefully hubby gets home soon so we can go get some!

Thursday, September 9, 2010


I am so messed up.

I mean, don't you just feel so seriously screwed up sometimes?

I wake up every morning telling myself that I'm ok. That I'm happy. That I'm blessed.

And I mostly am.

But then there's the times when I catch myself thinking - imagine. Just imagine how happy my life would be if it had never happened.

Can you believe it? Can you believe how horrible and nasty I am? Letting myself think about what it would it be like if they had never existed. Think about what it would be like to have a beautiful baby without having to battle grief.

Because I want to be at peace with it. And smile when I think of them instead of cry. And be comforted in the fact that I love them so, very much.

Instead, I have flashbacks. Terrors. My water breaks. Gush. The nurse making notes on the computer. "One half of belly is soft. One half is hard."
Litmus paper.
"You may have just urinated. You probably just urinated."

My mother, dipping her finger into a little seashell full of water to baptise Sophie because there wasn't a chaplain near enough.

My husband, shaking with sobs. Looking at me to fix the pain.

Seeing people gather around her little isolette.

Watching the numbers slowly go down on his heartbeat.

Decisions. Flash. Flash.

I've seen too many pictures of dead babies.

I watch Avery while she sleeps. And I think of the pictures I've seen of beautiful babies who are dead. I watch her chest rise and fall with her breaths and willing the universe that they continue.

Watching the Angel Care Monitor flash. flash. flash.

I can never be sure she's going to be ok. Never ever. You just don't know what's in the cards.

I don't want to live my life worrying about my daughter dying. Because her brother and sister did.

I feel so unrested. So unsure. So scared.

So happy. So lucky. So blessed.

So freaking PISSED OFF that this happened. So unbelievably angry that they were taken from me.

I am so.messed.up.