Once Upon A Time...

I keep thinking about something lately, that once upon a time, a long time ago, Josh and I lived a normal life not even thinking about children or pregnancy.  We worked, we talked, we functioned, and we loved, without a baby being in the front of our minds or the purpose of doing such things.

I want to go back to those days.  It was much simpler and so much less stressful.  Mentally, I think I committed to forgetting and returning to my normal life last month, when I became the lady who disassembled the pregnancy test to see if a line was really there.  It wasn't, and then a day later, I knew for sure that I wasn't pregnant, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

So, I told Josh that with Gabe's 9 months not hanging over my head anymore, its time to move on.  He thought that I meant forget, and he got really upset.  I could never forget, no matter how hard I want to.  But the truth is, I can't go back there, the sweet innocence and excitement of Gabe's arrival.  No pregnancy will ever be the same for me. 

Yesterday I got a positive on my ovulation predictor.  I was excited, because you all know me, I have this need to know that my body is doing what it should.  Then, when Josh and I wanted to take advantage of that, I just was so bitchy and not wanting to take advantage.  He asked why I was so scared. 

It was nice talking about it honestly with him. 
I am scared to not become pregnant again right away, and have him be disappointed like he was last month.. 
I am scared to not become pregnant again and have to live my life in 2 week increments.
I am scared to not become pregnant again and long for it so much that I can't do anything else.
I am scared TO BECOME pregnant again and have it get stuck in my tube, or have another loss.  I can't take another...
I am scared TO BECOME pregnant again, and having to worry each time I use the bathroom, that I may see blood.
I am just scared. 

Today I got a negative reading on the ovulation predictor...so whats done is done, and all I can do is hope that God takes my hand.  Gabriel taught me that my life is not my own, that I do not have control, and there is no plan for me but God's plan. 
I trust He and my sweet baby boy, will help me through this TTC journey...

What Should Have Been....

Josh and I can't go to bed sometimes without thinking about and talking about what might have been.  Especially this week, as tomorrow is what would have been, Gabriel's due date.

I know it doesn't matter to the majority of people who I know, I mean, some people don't really consider him my baby, but something that didn't grow.  Most people don't even know that he was named.   Even when I was going through the really hard stuff, I don't think I could comprehend how much I could love him, and how much he could influence my everyday life. 

With this day approaching, my body has been failing me.  The terrible migraines, the getting sick.  I can't tell if I am coming down with something or if its the stress of the knowledge that I don't have what should have been.  Tonight I could barely lift my pounding head from the couch pillow.

Last night, I went to sleep crying, just thinking of the fond things I remember, like telling my parents, and Josh's parents.  Last night I imagined things that I can't have...like what would the nursery look like?  Would I have been induced?  Would we be excitedly leaving for the hospital?  Would we have baby stuff strewn about the house?  Would my sisters be flying home?  Would my mom be moving in for a couple days to help? And most importantly, what would he have looked like?  Would he have the Cole chin, or Josh's eyes, would he have dark hair or red hair?  The thoughts of those things make me smile for a second, before the pain gets the better of me.

I never thought I would be sitting here 5 months after Gabe's death and not be pregnant...not be happy.  And I never thought I would have had an ectopic.  Josh keeps telling me that our turn for happiness is right around the corner, he can feel it.  I can't.  I still can't feel anything good. 

Tomorrow I will spend the day thinking of my baby.  I will write him a letter from his mommy, and then Josh and I will be going to dinner at the Elephant Bar.  We thought the choice of restaurant was appropriate. 

I really wish I was in the hospital right now holding him, feeding him, loving him.  The only memory I have of giving birth is bawling my way through it...and wishing to God that I could vanish and have a do over.  I wish I could give birth and have the common, happy, result.  Wow, I would be delirously happy.  Can you all picture me?  When I finally get there?  I will be bawling just because I finally got there...

But I am having a really hard time just wanting him here with me.  The pain just won't stop, no matter how much I try to be a normal person.  I just miss him so much, and the life I should be leading right now.  My mom tries to tell me I am not broken, but I am.  No matter how hard I wish, this defeated feeling just won't let my heart go.   And even though I know that thinking of the "what should have beens" is not healthy, I can't move forward yet.  Maybe I will be able to, after tomorrow.

Battle Scars

So, if anyone was wondering where I have been, I went to Las Vegas for a few days with my sisters.  The trip was supposed to be my last hoorah with alcohol and caffeine, as we are now actively trying to conceive again.  It was a great time, but it made me very aware of my body....let me explain.

Both my sisters have my mother's genetic makeup, so they have tiny hips and are built pretty tiny build in general.  They are also so short...and then there is me.  I don't think I am gargantuan by any means, but all the pictures next to them, made me a little self-conscious.   So, one night in the shower, I looked down at my own body, and instead of noticing my big hips and thighs, I noticed my battle scars. 

I have two tiny stretch marks from my pregnancy with Gabriel...just to the right of my belly button.

I have my CVS scar from when they wanted to know what was wrong with him, and its located about three fingers down from my belly button.

I have my surgical scar, a small horizontal one, from my second pregnancy, located above my pelvis. 

I have a small scar from my laparascopy, from my second pregnancy, in my belly button.

I have a hole in my heart, located in the center, from both of my pregnancies.

With March coming up, who knows how I will act, or how I will be.  Right now, I feel okay.  I am trying to live like we are conceiving for the first time..not that I can ever forget about my sweet son...but I am trying...who knows, that may go out the window, depending on how long it takes me to have a successful pregnancy.  I keep thinking that if I found out I was pregnant in March, then it would be like Gabriel helping me along somehow..but I don't want to get my hopes up.

March 11th will be the hardest.  That was the first due date.  That is the day that my insides will no longer ache, but my arms will start to.  I am going to try my hardest to get through that day not lying in bed. 

I am just trying to get through...

Resist the Urge

I am grappling with a lot of different feelings lately. 

Each day that passes in February is one day closer to March 11, Gabriel's original due date. 

Each day, I have these thoughts, about, how big I should be, or what the nursery would have looked like, how my baby showers would have went.  Every stressful day at work reminds me that if things would have gone according to my plan, I would only have 2 weeks left before taking a leave of absence for the rest of the school year.

according to my plan.

I originally titled this blog: my new life plan.  Even after Gabriel went to Heaven, I was willing to accept that I didn't have control and to let life happen to me.  But thats when I thought I would be pregnant within a couple of months of my son's death.  When I did fall pregnant again, it was ectopic, another rarity, and although I got to keep my fallopian tube, I am now saddled with a whole new set of worries, which fall like boulder size weights on my shoulders.  Now, I not only have to worry about the health and development of a baby, but that the egg will actually get to where it needs to go.

I am trying to resist the urge to panic for that control.  See, Josh and I have the okay to try again, and although this month is probably a bust ( I am out of town during the time I typically conceive...another fact that I hate knowing considering I have no baby to show for it) we have decided to start over, and treat this new possibility of a baby like we did way back in June, when we were trying for the first time.  "Whatever happens, happens" type of attitude.  Well, then we start talking about how really, a holiday baby would be rather cool!  If the baby is born in November, Josh can dress him/her up in Michigan football gear and Broncos gear and that would be so much fun!  Or, how cool would a December baby be, we can have the baby and my dad be the Christmas babies!  We could have joint parties and really truly celebrate the blessings of the season. 

As Josh and I were talking about this, my heart started to race...I felt the need to control the situation...okay, so if we are going to make this holiday baby thing happen, then we only have February and March..what if it doesn't happen, what if it does and I miscarry again..what if, what if, what if....

And then I shut down.  I stop answering my phones, and I stop caring.  I get sad, depressed, and most of all, angry and frustrated.  I wish I had a crystal ball, to look into and just know that things were going to be okay.

And I think of Gabriel, every second that I am awake.  And I wonder what he would of looked like, how big he would have been inside of me...how labor would have been in normal circumstances.  I feel this need to honor him, and I don't know how.  Josh is going out of his mind, wanting to know if they buried him yet (the hospital does the burying of babies his gestational age quarterly) and he says that when he is buried, that is enough for him.  Me, I don't need to know that he is buried...I just want to honor him somehow.  I just don't know what to do.  I thought about getting his memory box down, or even going in that room (which by the way, has been closed off.  I can't go in there)  but I can't.  I open the closet and see those baby clothes and I can't go in there. 

How can I openly mourn my son?  I don't even know how to make my blogspot look like other moms' sites.  I don't want a funeral or memorial service...but especially in March, how can I remember him without being so angry that he is not here? 

I would have been a great mom.  Can I still call myself a mom when my baby is in Heaven?

Someday, I will hold a baby in my arms, and know that all of this pain, was worth it.  As someone so eloquently put it to me, "yes, it would be terrible if this happens again, but it won't it be WONDERFUL when it doesn't? 

I am just so worried that the wonderful will never come.  And if I am worrying so much, then I am not resisting the urge for that control.  I have failed...again.

And the club is heartsick to announce....

that we have to welcome another member...my good friend Jenny, who lost her baby at 11 weeks gestation.

I am so sorry you have to be here, Jenny. 

Today I saw a woman out in the 11 degree weather.  She was holding a sign "pregnant, homeless, and will work for food."  Even though I didn't know the woman, and maybe she will make a lovely mother, I couldn't help thinking about myself, Jenny, and all of the women who I have met through this blog...and wondering why we get to lose our babies while others get to keep theirs.

I talked to my cousin Tracy today...who is due in about 2 weeks.  I have never been so jealous in my life.  I am supposed to be 34 weeks pregnant. 

I am so sorry, Jenny.  This club is Hell. 

Flashback

Today I learned that a really good friend of mine, who is 11 weeks pregnant, may be experiencing a loss.

She has tried so long to conceive, and after 2 years, finally discovered she was pregnant.  When I found out she was expecting, I was genuinely ecstatic for her, as I know the path to pregnancy had been a long and trying one.

She went to see the heartbeat, and the doctor couldn't find one...and he wants to recheck her in a few days.  She is in Mexico as a missionary. 

As I read her email telling me this, I felt so sad.  I was close to tears.  I thought of her, and the one day being excited for an ultrasound and the next day feeling so sad...and it put me back in my own ultrasound room, October 1, 2009, when we found out little Gabriel's heart stopped beating.  I can close my eyes, and literally, see it.  Hear the tech say, "I am so sorry."  I see the clothes that I wore that day...and I still can't wear them.  I can feel it...like it was yesterday.  I see it still, which is why I am having trouble sleeping right now at 1:15 am.

My friend says that her husband is being really wonderful and keeping her calm...I called Josh upstairs after the email, and we both prayed for my friend.  As we talked about my friend and our own dreadful day, I realized how lucky I am to have a man like Josh...how strong he is, and how positive he has been that we will get our turn.   Even though we were talking about Gabe's cyst and how awful it was that it stopped his heart, we were talking about our son together, and it brought us closer a bit tonight. 

I feel better about trying again.  My blood HCG is at 12, and the doc said we can try as soon as it falls back to below 5.  Josh said the other day, "once we hold our baby in our arms, all of this pain, all of this loss, all of this hurt...will be worth it.  Isn't it worth it to try, Meg?" 

I am literally on my knees praying that my friend gets to hear her baby's heartbeat in a few days...I would hate for her to be in the club that no mother wants to be in.  Instead of sleepless nights with her baby in her arms, she will be like the rest of us..sleepless nights because we can still see the last dreadful ultrasound...hear the doctors and nurses at the dreadful birth...and feel the pain that emptiness provides for us after the realization that we are no longer pregnant...but should be.

I didn't get my miracle.  I pray that my friend gets hers.....

Release Me

I saw a movie this weekend called "The Lovely Bones."  At first, I thought it was kind of bizarre and sad, but the parts where Suzie is stuck in the "in-between" got me thinking. 

Suzie's "in-between" was beautiful since she was on her way to Heaven.  It was full of all that Suzie could imagine, colorful outfits and beautiful nature; an outdoor playground.  Sure, she wasn't in Heaven yet, because the in-between did house things that haunted her, that reminded her of the end of her life.  Only when she was released did she get to her Heaven.

It got me thinking about my in-between here on Earth.  I know its not the same thing, but I feel stuck in my in-between. 

It was only 6 months ago where I was delirously happy, pregnant with our first baby and buying baby clothes and making plans. 

When Gabriel died, my life ended.  The life I knew anyways, cause now I am a new person.  A month or so after Gabe's death, I still wasn't okay, but I had decided that he was preparing me for the next time, looking out for me.  I knew I had to shift my life plan...that I wasn't going to have a baby in March, but I would have one a little after that.

Well, then I had my ectopic pregnancy, and now, I am more sad than ever.  Sad about Gabriel again mostly, and sad that I have to wait some more.

Yesterday I took a HPT just to see if it were negative and if my HCG levels from the pregnancy that never really was had left me, and nope, there it was, another blaring positive.  This pissed me off...because I knew it wasn't really positive.  It was all a lie. 

So my in-between is the time from when Gabe died to when I get to be happy, and actually have things work out.  My in-between is Hell.  I get up everyday not really wanting to be awake, because when I am awake, I am concious that I am not pregnant, and may not be for a long time, or may lose that baby too. 

My in-between contains reminders of March and how big I should be right now, and the realization that he is dead. 

My in-between has me staring into mirrors and hating this body that doesn't seem to do things right. 
My in-beteen has me married to a man who on a daily basis asks me to please want to try again...when all I want to do at this point is forget about babies. I tell him no and a fight starts. 
My in-between has left me wanting to burn those maternity clothes and baby clothes in the room that I refuse to go into because it was supposed to be Gabriel's nursery.
My in-between leaves me walking the walls at 2:19 am because I can't think of anything else to think about besides my losses and being scared that my levels won't go down so I can try again, yet, I am scared to try again. 
My in-between leaves me loathing anyone who is pregnant or attempting to get pregnant.
My in-between has robbed me of my personality, and the very thought of smiling exhausts me.  I am a walking talking shell of existence, and when I act or say that I am okay, please know that I am pretending and lying to you.

I feel suffocated by my in-between.  And I wish it would release me into my Heaven. 

I asked Josh what his Heaven looked like, and he of course gave me some bullshit answer.  My Heaven is a pillowtop king size bed, pregnant successfully, with my two other babies that I have lost next to me, playing and giggling.  I think about that all the time, and sometimes, its the only thing that gets me through that particular minute. 

I thought I had a pretty spiritual experience after my surgery...I prayed for peace and for a second, I thought I got it.  Boy, was I ever wrong.  I am being tortured by jealousy and what-ifs..coulda shoulda wouldas...
I can't breathe sometimes, the grip gets so tight.  I want my babies, I want my babies, I want my turn!

I want my turn.

I think I am going to donate those baby clothes.  They were meant for Gabriel anyway...then they will get out of my closet.  I don't want anything to do with babies.