Daylight, I Must Wait for the Sunrise

In memory of a most beloved baby.
November 12, 2006

The Patience Poem

A friend recently sent me a poem she'd written about her experience with grief in losing a child. I'd like to share it here (with her permission). Thanks, Robyn for putting into words what is so hard for people to understand about we parents with children who are no longer with us. It's the first thing, she says, she's ever written. I hope it's not the last.

Patience…………..Understanding

When a child dies a part of you dies with that child
A future you dreamed about no longer exists.
Everyone waits on the side for you to move on.
Everyone wonders why you still may grieve from time to time.
Have they ever lost a child?
Can they really know what we are feeling?
Everyone must understand this loss is a life long journey.
Patience…………Understanding - that’s all one can do.
Those of us who have had a child die don’t want the pain or want to dwell on the past.
The pain is just there.
It eases up and gets easier, but the pain will live with us forever.
Forever because it’s a future we will never know.
Only a dream we dreamed.
Only a prayer we prayed.
Only a wish we wished.
Only a hope we had hoped.
Not a day goes by that we don’t think of our child that is not with us.
It may not be an all day affair wondering what they would be doing right now.
But it may be a song we hear
A moment we feel
A smell we come across
A short simple thought of that child who is not with us.
Just give us Patience……………Understanding
Our emotion, whatever it may be, will forever be with us.

Robyn Lloyd
Mother of Hailey
Born still May 31, 2008
July 2009

On feeling simultaneously young and very old indeed

Thank you all for your good wishes and for not asking if I'm crazy!

So, as those of you who are mathematically inclined could easily determine from my birthdate on my ultrasound, I'm 41. I'll be 42 in April. I'm old. Ok, I'm not really old in the general way of things (and certainly not behaviorally!) but, in terms of being pregnant, I'm old. And being AMA (advanced maternal age) engenders (heh, pun fully intended) a host of things - one of which involves extra progesterone. For those of you who don't remember (or who never knew), progesterone is responsible for many of the lovely side effects of early pregnancy, including exhaustion and nausea. So, yeah, this pregnancy is so kicking my ass. I could probably be in bed all day and still be wiped out. Unfortunately, I can't *be* in bed all day (more's the pity that!!) as I've the rugrats to chase. And the lovely low-level nausea that dogs me much of the day (until just about 4 pm) does nothing for my mood either.

Now, in my last pregnancy, I took the symptoms as a good sign - things were progressing as they ought. What with this extra progesterone coursing through my system, God only knows whether this is a good sign or just a sign of well-meant medical intervention. Sigh.

At any rate, yeah, I'm old. I'm already easily the oldest mom at any playgroup though, luckily, I don't look it (thanks be for small mercies). My mother and many of my friends think I'm stark raving mad to do this again. Truth is, we never expected it to happen. We weren't trying but neither were we trying not to. We had such trouble getting pregnant for our whole reproductive history that who would think that at our age I'd get pregnant the normal way. I mean - go figure!! That does not mean, however, that we aren't thrilled. I'm ecstatic, actually (well, except when queasy - queasy tending to interfere with any feeling other than being queasy), and am really looking forward to one last baby.

There is something about the kids that keeps you at least a little young. My 3 year old makes me off the wall nuts mad but her joie de vivre, her flamboyant boisterousness is contagious. The baby, now 10 months old, is so curious and frighteningly physically adept (she not only unplugs the night lights, she takes the shield off and unscrews the bulb). How could anyone feel old when they spend a good part of the day watching her little boomba scuttle across the floor chasing the cat?

That being said, I'll probably call it permanently quits if this baby makes it. The risks for miscarriage, etc. get higher the older you get and I really, really don't want to go through that again. Also, I've spent the predominant amount of the last 7 years either pregnant or trying to get pregnant. That's a goodly amount of time worrying about one's onboard roommate.

Actually, I'll probably call it quits if this baby doesn't make it as well. You move on as best you can, try to distance yourself from that pain, that aching need to hold the child you never can, bringing it only out occasionally to feel anew that burning anguish. But it never goes away. It's always there, tucked neatly away, hidden lest it offend or make someone uncomfortable, ready to come out of its own volition, wreaking agonizing misery, arms stretching for a child that will never fill them, voice whispering, barely audible, pleading with the fates for the impossible, and tears that will not be quenched. No, I don't want another child's death on my soul.

The Baby That Wasn't (No. 2) would be 20 months old now (it's been 2 years, 3 months, and 4 days since s/he left us) and, of course, Evie probably wouldn't be with us - it's such a mixed feeling. So, old, young... either way, fingers crossed and prayers said for baby #4 to join us happy and healthy in September.

Two Years

Two years.

Two years since life as I know it
changed.
Immeasurably,
completely,
in perpetuity.

Two years since I began
describing my
children
as "one living, one lost".

Two years
has served to merely
dull
the searing knife of pain
that will
never
truly vanish
though the phrase has
now
become "two living, one lost".

I do not know
if the life that
left us
was male or female.
I know only
that my heart holds
it
him
her
until the end
of
my own.

Too Damn Many Projects to Count

And, yep, that's my excuse for not having posted in forever.

Before I forget, JerseyTjej, you are off the hook with respect to my Pelikan as I found it over last weekend - whoohooo!!!! And, nope, I'm still not mailing it off to you to borrow.

Ok, back to the too damn many projects. I need to learn to tell myself, and others, no. There's so much I want to do (and we're not talking food here for once) and I just can't face the fact that I don't have enough time to do everything that (a) needs to get done, (b) I'm obliged (now) to get done, and (c) fun stuff I want to do.

This weekend, I need to: design an entire ad book for a dinner next weekend. The file is due to the chamber office on Monday. Yes, this is pro bono work. Dumb ass me.

I also need to: finish the bangle I'm working on for class - because it's going to be my auction donation for said dinner. Again, pro bono but at least this is multi-purpose and may have marketing benefits.

Oh yes, I also need to finish transcribing Quem Pastores - all I have yet to transcribe is the flute part BUT Finale is fighting me and I will then need to re-enter the whole thing from scratch to add the organ and flute parts because I didn't start with enough staves and, for some reason, the damn program keeps putting in returns for no apparent reason. I may go back to Noteworthy Composer for the final. We'll see. The choir director has Finale though and if she wants to tweak it, it would be easier to have it in that.

Oh, and prepare and mail the draw slips for the Christmas gift draw on John's side of the family.

And then there's the usual: update the website, clean the house, watch the kid, go to the library sale, clean my office, crazy talk all. I'll be lucky if I get the must-dos done.

On a completely different note but it could also be considered a project...
We had another ultrasound today. Little Person was wiggling all around - appears to have the requisite appendages (arms, legs, head) - and had a nice steady heartbeat. I am so lucky, my OB is absolutely wonderful. He asked that I come back in a month. I looked pitiful. He said, "You made it 3 weeks this time!" I said, "Yes, but it was a REEEEEEEALLY long 3 weeks." He said, "Want to come back in 2?" Man, I just can't say enough about the guy. If you're in Central CT and looking for a great OB, email me.

A good friend told me she was surprised I wasn't blogging more about being pregnant. I truly think it's because I'm afraid I'll jinx something. That if I believe it's true, that we're really going to be bringing home another live baby, that Katie will finally have a sibling, it will turn out to be my imagination. Opening myself to think about it, or hope, or believe, also opens me to a great deal of potential pain. I think not talking about it is a way for me to shield myself from the pain. I think I am finally starting to believe that this one is for real. Because Little Person was very clearly that - a little, and very wriggly, person. Somehow, seeing that makes it very real. We're going to have a baby. Wow.

Please keep us in your prayers that Little Person makes it all the way.

A Day of Grief; A Day of Hope

As I was visiting a friend today, her sister called, distraught. The sister had just had an ultrasound that showed her baby had no heartbeat. She is, was, 9 weeks along. Right about when we lost the Baby That Wasn't. I was not prepared for the raw grief that surfaced again so quickly. How visceral the memory is of hearing the same words not a year ago.

The surreality of the situation was heightened by my trip (just prior to visiting my friend) to the doctor's office to have blood drawn to check for HCG and progesterone to see if we are, indeed, expecting again. I've had four positive pee-on-a-stick results but, as anyone who has struggled to get and stay pregnant knows, that doesn't mean squat until the doctor says your levels are good. Even then, there ain't nothin' guaranteed. You can't be sure you'll be walking out the door with a baby (ok, riding out since they insist on the wheelchair thing) until you're actually doing it.

Sometimes the circle of life spins just a little too fast to be sure which end is up.

I Will. I Will Not.

June 22nd is Friday next.

I will not allow
myself
the masochistic luxury of
guilt.

I will paste a
veneer of
courage
on my psyche.

I will not
wallow.
Well,
not much.

I will move
onward,
trudging toward
another
day.

I will not lose
myself
in
blame of my body,
blame of my soul.

I will, indeed, so many things.
I will not.

I am not.

June 22nd is Friday next.

I am not
as swollen
as a helium balloon
tied to a mailbox
in the
sun.

I am not
breathing hard
when I
climb
the stairs.

I am not
emotionally secure.

I am not the person
I'd thought
to be.

I am not so many things.

I am.

I am.

June 22nd is Friday next.

I am
taking Clomid.

I am
watching what I
eat.

I am
sleeping
well
if you discount the
weird dreams
of
assassins chasing me
through identities
and awakenings.

I am
the mother of one
and the wife of
another.

I am so many things.

I am not.

I Should Not Be

June 22nd is Friday next.

I should not be drinking pomegranate
martinis
and finishing that bottle of
Shiraz in the fridge so
that it won't
turn to
vinegar.

I should not be sleeping
peacefully
through the night.

I should not be terribly
emotionally
uncomfortable.

I should not be so
aware
of my physical deficiencies
as a woman.

I should not be
so many things.

I am.

I Should Be

June 22nd is Friday next.

I should be checking my bag.
I should be terribly
physically
uncomfortable.

I should be making plans
for
child care.

I should be making the
final
adjustments to furniture
and digging through
Rubbermaid storage bins.

I should be seeing
my doctor.

I should be
so many things.

I am not.

Not Dead, Honest (*edited to fix link - thanks SMT!!*)

Although I am dead tired... ;) and this will be short and somewhat rambling... (We have a newspaper sports columnist here who does this sort of thing occasionally and called it "half-baked Jake" - his name is Jeff Jacobs. No, I'm not sure where I thought I was going with that either.

Well, I have duly completed my 4th decade. We celebrated like mad on the 21st with our friends and more sedately with family on the 28th - let's stretch the fun out!! Unfortunately, all the cake has now been eaten and I'm suffering from chocolate cake withdrawal - cake, damn it, I need more cake!!

I've also entered into (as of Thursday) my 2nd decade of marriage. Yep, we made it 10 years. Hard to believe but there you have it!

The jewelry website (http://www.silveryeverafter.com) was recently updated (i.e., I spent my whole frellin' week futzing with thing and, despite a breakdown where all my pictures went bye-bye the other night (thank you VERY much, Jade, for helping me with that!!!!), it's finally up to date. I really ought to split the index pages for each type into more than one page, they're getting overly long but, nope, not now. It will have to wait for the next time around.

I have my first home exhibit for the jewelry in 2 weeks and I'm frantically trying to get ready for that.

I'd really like to get back to my poetry book but, at this point, it just ain't happenin'. It will. Eventually.

Still no luck on the reproductive front. If not this cycle, we go see the doctor to talk about options. Not sure what those options are, given our insurance (which covers diddly-squat) and our unwillingness to do follicle studies, but, hey, I'm game to listen. Probably Clomid. Just what I need ... more raging hormones! Ever since the miscarriage, the emotional aspect of my PMS has been absolutely out-of-control. It's weird. It's like the time they switched my birth control pills from the mini-pill to the not-quite-full-but-not-quite-mini version. Tears at the drop of a hat and c-r-a-n-k-y.

The Katester is turning into quite the todder... no. no. no. no. I think she says that word more to me than I do to her maybe. Suffice it to say, it's probably the most frequently spoken word in our household, exceeding even "potty".

I'm not getting any skinnier thanks to a world-class case of stress-eating BUT I noticed today that a whole day's worth of gardening (all breaking new beds) wasn't 1/2 as tiring as it was last year. So it seems those weights are helping after all.

And, on the last note before I stop boring you all, I found fuschias at the grocery two weeks ago and bought two. I love fuschias and I don't typically find them around here. Well, I didn't know what color they would be but I noticed today that the first blooms have opened and they're the lovely fuschia color on the outside and royal purple on the inside - so pretty! I'll post a pic when I do the next upload.

Sometimes, the World Comes Crashing in Again

And this evening seems like one of those nights.

The kind where it seems like I lost the baby just yesterday. The kind where I start crying spontaneously. The kind where despair seems universal and no hope peers around the corner and dawn seems forever away.

What I've Been Up To And Then Some

Be warned... my next post is likely to be both long and rambling on various subjects: the holidays, our trip to Boston, the upcoming year, New Year's resolutions, beginning with trying to conceive again, etc. Well, maybe I'll do a mini-challenge and do take one on each day next week...

In the meantime... as you'll read, we survived the holidays and then some. Yes, SmileyMamaT, I did get my bahooty motated, mostly at least.

And, over the last couple of months, I've picked up yet another new hobby... making jewelery. Taking a leaf from LauraJ's book, I wanted to share!!

First up, the very first stuff I ever made - for my college friend D'Arcy-Jean. (For those who sew, look up her book Fabric Leftovers!!) She looked at one of my favorite necklaces and said, "You know, you could make this." And that, as they say, was that.


(sterling silver with varied glass beads)

This one is for my sister (who, hopefully, doesn't have my blog URL or she now knows what she's getting for her birthday!


(sterling silver with rose quartz and two types of glass beads)

And this one is my "baby" necklace. It commemorates both Katie and the Baby That Wasn't. Yet another step in healing.


(sterling with rose quartz, carnelian, and unakite - the first strengthening love bonds, the second two strengthening fertility and the reproductive system - for maximum effect, I should've made this with gold (good for healing) but couldn't find the alpha beads in gold nor, I suspect, could I have afforded them had I found them).

Speaking of healing... I am slowly moving forward with the poetry book. I am in the process of trying to take and choose photographs to accompany the poems. If you are willing to act as a photo-editor for this in a bit (will probably involve looking at a lot of photos online and comparing them with the poems in a PDF or word processing document), drop me a line, would you? (Jade, I'm tagging you on this one in particular - I know you're busy but you're *good*!)

That's all for tonight, folks! Same bat channel tomorrow! (er, or Saturday or, maybe, Sunday or Monday...)

Been a While and I'm Sorry 'Bout That

But first we had our Christmas party to get ready for and then I got my period.

I know, I know, why should menstruation keep me from blogging. Well, it signaled the close of the first cycle after we lost the baby. I wanted to write about it; I just couldn't find the words. I may yet. Oops, I guess I just did. I do have other things to blog about but the time just gets away from me. Sorry!

Cycles

The bleeding starts
lightly,
thinly.

My body
returns to its normal
rhythm,
cycling with the moon,
the tides.

My mind is also
slowly
returning to its normal
rhythm,
the beat of my heart
being the only
heartbeat therein.

We will,
soon enough,
start searching again,
searching each other
for the soul that will
join us
eventually,
inviting it to
take up a
temporary residence
in my body,
and a permanent
one in our lives.

I am
heartened,
hopeful,
wistful
as my body
prepares a new palette
for the Creator
of Light
to use.

3 Weeks and Counting - Thanks

for all your support over the last 3 weeks. Being able to express some of the myriad emotions running rampant in my head helped me a lot through these weeks and knowing I had friends to read the poems helped a lot too. There is a lot more to be said but I know I've healed some because the ideas aren't assaulting me at every turn and I am now able to think about the situation without becoming Niobe.

I would be interested to know if you particularly liked or disliked any of the poems and what your overall feeling about them was. I'd also be interested to know whether you think these might help other women going through the same thing. I have an idea but I'm not sure yet if it's a worthwhile one. So, please don't be afraid to tell me you didn't like them or found them banal or something; I'm just curious and will still love you all, I promise! If you don't want to leave comments publicly - you can reach me at peppypilotgirl (at) hotmail.com or any one of my other email addresses.

I really appreciate your continued help.

I will probably be writing about this (and other things) for a while as, among all the grieving, I seem to have remembered that I *like* to write poetry. (Lucky you... not.)

21 Day Challenge | Day 21 | Inseparable / Three Weeks

21. Inseparable

We were the best of friends,
inseparable in
fun, laughter.

I don’t know
when
the drift
began.

It became complete
when her
response to the death
of my child
was a fifth of
vodka
and a stack of
stupid comedies.

Funny how death
separates the inseparable.


22. Three Weeks

Three weeks
have passed.

Three weeks in which I have
eaten (too much), slept (not well),
bathed, run errands, worked, and
watched my daughter.

Three weeks which have seemed
as long as
three years
but which have served
to dull the
pain
somewhat.

Three weeks in which I have
stayed as busy as humanly
possible.

Because to slow down
enough to think
would mean
to feel and
to feel has been
too painful
for words.

I believe
that it is
time
to slow down.

21 Day Challenge | Day 20 | Hope was Born Today

20. Hope was Born Today

A baby was born today.
A baby whose parents lost their
firstborn, stillborn.
A baby who will never know her
older brother.

Hope was born today.

21 Day Challenge | Day 19 | Who Will Care for Her

19. Who Will Care for Her / The Ortiz Stabbings

Her picture is wild-eyed,
frantic.
She stabbed her babies,
three of them,
multiple times.

And called her
boyfriend’s mother
to say,
“the children are dead.”

The tears form a
torrent
down my face.

How can she not realize how
much beyond value,
how
sacred,
each of those fragile
bodies
is?

How can she
erase
those tiny
souls?

The children
will
live
and their
grandmother
will care for
them.

I am
lucky.
Though my pain
will not
vanish
altogether,
I will live
and people
will care for
me.

But who will care for
this girl,
when she
realizes
what she has
lost?


Courant Article re: Ortiz Custody Hearing

21 Day Challenge | Day 18 | All the Right Things

18. All the Right Things

A card came
in the mail.

It did not say “I’m sorry.”
It did not say “you can try again.”
It did not say “at least you have your daughter.”

It said,
“the loss is more painful than
anything.”
It said,
“I know.”
It said,
“I want to cry when my son
wishes he had a brother.”
It said,
“He does.”

It said all the right things.
And I am thankful.