A transformed woman

One of the paralegals in my office went to see the coworker who had her baby this week. She said she is a "completely transformed woman...everything about her is different...her aura...everything. You know what having a child does for a woman." I so desperately wanted to ask her what has changed about me since having lost Alex...but I didn't want her to think I'm completely self-involved.

But I do wonder. Am I a transformed woman? Or am I the same person, just going through a rough time right now? I feel different. But perhaps that is just grief and mourning talking, and it will wear off in time. Maybe the transformation comes AFTER the grief has subsided.

I must admit that I have never felt particularly "grown up." I have generally felt as though I'm play acting at this grown up thing. Faking it, if you will. So I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to see myself. Fact is, I'm a reasonably intelligent, well-educated, underpaid professional. That's not so childlike. I have an amazing husband, one beautiful living son, and one stillborn son. Definitely not so childlike. So why is it I have such a hard time taking ownership of my own life?

For the record

We're THINKING about having another baby.
We haven't even discussed it.
JUST THINKING.
That's all.

Why do I doubt it?

I have it on good authority that I am officially "still in the running" for the aforementioned job that I interviewed with but never heard anything and now a coworker is interviewing for (how's that for a run-on sentence?). Thank you to my source (wink, wink)

When I went for my interview, they said they would know something in two weeks. Apparently they did. They hired someone else for the first position (There are two more positions open up in the same department). But apparently their knowing something does not translate into their extending the professional courtesy of sending out a note to let me know.

Have I mentioned I can't stand most lawyers?

So now I'm pretty negative about the whole thing...and really doubtful that I have a snowball's chance. Ah well...life sucks...I pretty much knew that already.

The big pink elephant

I composed myself enough to attend the weekly "ladies lunch" here at my office. We had been, prior to my medical leave, each bringing in a dish to pass on a given day each week and enjoying some good female bonding conversation (gossip). Today's lunch was to be a dual purpose lunch to be a shower of sorts for my pregnant coworker. But since she delivered her as yet unnamed baby boy a couple of weeks early, we just had a single purpose lunch today. We mainly talked about family...sharing stories about husbands and boyfriends and kids. It was nice. It was a little awkward for me. But it was nice.

At one point in the conversation, an incredibly young and wonderfully naive co-worker made some reference to how her twenty-some years had passed so quickly, imagine how fast the rest of her life will go. Start the awkward silence and furtive glances my direction...followed by a smattering of nervous laughter.

Was I supposed to fall apart? start crying? make some comment?

Don't think it didn't enter my mind to say, "Sweetheart, you aren't guaranteed ANY tomorrows." But I'm not a pessimist by nature, and I didn't want to cast a cloud of gloom over a relatively nice lunch. Besides, everyone was obviously already thinking it...so it really wasn't necessary to say it out loud.

The one thing I've found most tiring about this whole grieving thing is the NOT talking about the big pink elephant in the room. But I don't know how to start the conversation. Do I just say, "My baby boy had a hemmorrhage in his brain and that's why he died?" Do I issue a memo? Do I make the pessimistic comment when the opportunity arises and hope that it leads to a full conversation? I mean, there is no real way to segue into the topic I know most people want to have but are too polite to ask about.

Or maybe I presume too much. Maybe they just don't want to know and that's why they haven't asked.

Either way, the pink elephant is taking up space everywhere I go and I would LOVE to find a way to get rid of it...if only for my own sense of relief.

Fabulous

Just when I was starting to feel "accomplished," a coworker comes into my office to tell me she has an interview with a place I previously interviewed with but received no response. Life sucks.

Nothing to say

Do you ever just have nothing to say, but feel like you should fill up the silence with something? I've been having this feeling a lot lately. I think my mind is turning too fast because I keep imagining what must be going through other people's minds when there is any amount of silence between us. It's like I imagine they are thinking about how sad it must be to be me, so I need to reassure them that while I am sad, my existence has not become sad. I feel like I need to fill up the silence so that they won't feel pity for me.

When did I become pitiful? And why did I become pitiful? Why didn't I become like some tragic heroine in a novel, where everyone sees me as strong and mysterious and soulful because of my grief? One of many things I think television has done a disservice to. Instead of shaping characters for the rest of their lives, the loss of a child is only temporarily mourned and then everyone moves on to the next great crisis, seemingly forgetting the child ever existed. In the days of the great novels, people remembered things like children and great loves and great tragedies. Now it seems like there are so many to pick and choose from, we're supposed to move on in the blink of an eye.
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Tuesday I got my high school class ring back from Jostens after having it resized. One of the best customer services they provide is lifetime resizing. Of course, it took me fifteen years to realize I was never going to be small enough to wear the high school size again. But now that I have come to terms with having sausage fingers, my ring has been resized. I think pants makers should offer the same service. When my butt gets too big for my jeans, Levis should replace them or resize them for me. Don't ya think?
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My first crocheted hat turned out remarkably well...though a bit large. I have learned I need to either (a) get a smaller hook and some lighter yarn; or (b) cut the pattern down by about half the stitches. I tried alternative (b) and was quite pleased with the results. I will still have to buy a smaller hook and some lighter yarn. I want to work with that soft baby yarn...it feels so calming as it runs through your fingers.
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How soon is too soon to think about having another baby? I will never replace my Alex...but my clock ain't slowing down. And, after all, Alex existed because we wanted a baby. Thoughts?

Keeping myself busy

Today I spent the day splitting my time between playing with Sam and working on sewing projects. I finished Sam's red blankie, as requested by the little man himself. I worked on a medieval faire costume for a friend. And I learned how to crochet baby hats for charity. Yes, I have decided to use my scrap yarn and my need to keep busy to make baby hats, booties, and outfits for hospitals and other charities. Particularly important to me are the items that will be given to stillborn babies and their families. It bothers me that Alex only had a hospital blanket to wrap up in when we were in the hospital. He did have a hand-made hat that we kept that as a treasured keepsake. And we were given a baby blankie that was given to Sam as a gift from his baby brother. It was wonderful to know someone cared enough to make those thing for us. Now it's my turn to give back...and it keeps me busy so I don't think so much. I'll post pics if my first attempts don't turn out too scary.

My coworker had her baby

And as a very good friend said...why couldn't she do the decent thing and just go have her baby quietly over the long weekend?

7lb 9oz baby boy made his entrance into the world at about 10:30 this morning. Mom and baby are healthy and happy. The message from her mom didn't include a name. I hope her husband didn't name him something weird. Last I heard (before Alex died) he was entertaining the first name of "Crash." lol

I know it sounds horrible, but I'm so glad she had that baby and will be out on maternity leave now. It was so hard to pass her and her pregnant belly in the hallway each day. And she has enough leave saved up, she probably won't be back until October. By then the new baby stuff will have worn off and I can get away with polite inquiries without all the required newborn goo-goo-ing.

I think that's the last pregnant person I come into contact with on a regular basis. Thank God! Now I can stop feeling like someone is rubbing salt in an open wound. Right?

Draft horse owners are so weird

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And now a word from our sponsor

I am selling Tree-Free Greeting Cards as a fundraiser for Second Chances Dalmatian Rescue. Each set of twelve gorgeous cards comes with twelve equally beautiful envelopes...all in a matching tin. The price is $13.95 per set and Second Chances gets 50% of the proceeds. Check out their website and email me if you're interested in buying anything. We don't have all the cards listed on the Tree-Free site, but we hav many of them. Or maybe you might be moved to just make a donation (we would love it if you would).

And now back to our regularly scheduled blogging.

Blindsided

I was all set to blog today about my dilemma surrounding whether or not to attend a potluck lunch thrown in honor of my coworker who is due July 17th (one month after I was due with Alex).

But instead, I come into the office today and the receptionist (who I love and who normally is much more sensitive) tells me that my coworker is in the hospital and having her baby. I'm happy for her...I really am. But I feel as though I've been hit by a very big truck.

I survived this weekend with my ghost Alex haunting every single second. I thought I could return to some semblance of an even keel today with my office door shutting out the rest of the world. Instead, the office is all a-twitter with happy anticipation. And I just keep crying.

Such a struggle

My little Sam is struggling so hard with growing up.

A part of him wants desperately to go out and watch the fireworks and be a "big kid." But there is still an overwhelming little kid part of him that is afraid of the "loud noise." So this translates into requests like, "Take me into the kitchen and hold me up so I can see out the window," (to watch the neighbor's display of illegal fireworks) and, "I want to go drive and see fireworks in the van." Presumably, the second request would lead to us driving some distance in order to sit in the van and, at the first boom, listening to him cry and say, "I want to go home."

So we are staying at home and making repeated trips to the kitchen window...and back to the safety of the living room (away from the window). It really is quite adorable. But it is also bittersweet to see my first baby boy growing up right before my eyes.

There is too much blog material here

OK...maybe I'm being unpatriotic here, but watching A Capitol Fourth on PBS this evening has provided me enough blog material to last a lifetime.

Barry Bostwick hosts the show. His hair...well...that would be too easy. His drunken state...you have to see it to appreciate the humor.

So...The latest rendition of the Beach Boys leads off the performance part of the show. It looks to be one original member in his eighties, and the rest are kids who look to be too young to even remember the Beach Boys in their original form.

As for their actual singing...I'm being kind when I say this...what the hell happened to them?!?!? They're horrible! To say they can't carry a tune in a bucket is the understatement of the year. Now I know they're the Beach Boys (sort of) and everyone knows their music...so it isn't really a necessity that they sing the words because the crowd will fill in the blanks. But, my God! It's almost painful to watch.

Next, we get Sharon Lawrence in her adorable Shirley Temple red dress. She's singing patriotic show tunes...and dancing. She's actually selling it now that she's got some backup dancers and she's not left hanging out there on her own. Bring on cute kids dressed like Uncle Sam and you've always got a winner. Even if she does look ridiculous in that dress. Steve is currently shouting, "Bring back the Beach Boys."

By the way...is it a rule that all tuba players have to be fat? I mean, when they show up in the fifth grade to pick out instruments, do they say, "Hey, you, fat kid...tuba?" (Steve wants to know)

At the end of her performance, they forget to shut off her microphone and we can all hear Sharon Lawrence heavy breathing. Lovely.

The O'Jays...a bunch of old guys wearing PJ's. The guy on the left end has his pants pulled up to his armpits...old man style. Hey...at least they can sing.

And I thought this July Fourth would suck. I'm laughing so hard my sides hurt. And Steve says he's just getting warmed up...he hasn't even had any beer yet.

There is something about A Capitol Fourth that lends itself to show tunes. The Impossible Dream...from Man of La Mancha...an adaptation of Don Quixote, the story of a crazy man tilting at windmills...seems perfect performed on the steps of the Capitol on Independence Day in this year of all others. Where IS GWB today anyway?

I'm slightly disappointed in the finale. Didn't they used to do a segment that honored the various branches of the military? Or did I miss that on one of my various trips to the kitchen window (see post that follows this one)?

All in all, not bad...definitely improved after the Beach Boys left the stage.

New York's Macy's fireworks show is definitely better, though. Someday I would like to actually travel there and see it in person. It looks quite spectacular.

We went to the show in Cleveland one year. After parking several blocks from the beach in what did not feel like a great neighborhood, and walking down the closed shoreway for about half an hour, we made it to a grassy hillside overlooking Lake Erie. We spread a blanket and were treated to some really bad canned renditions of oldies tunes and a fifteen minute display. It was NOT New York, that's for sure.

Better question

Why oh why did I buy Sam a keyboard for Christmas??? Why? Why? Why?

Why do I do this to myself?

Why do I engage in home improvement projects with my husband? Why? Why? Why?

No Doughnuts

We live in a small town that is celebrating the grand opening weekend of our very first Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins store at the corner gas station/grocery mart. Just stopped in for a dozen doughnuts only to be told to stop back later...they have to make more. How does Dunkin Donuts run out of doughnuts? I guess it's like the times Arby's ran out of roast beef and Burger King ran out of burger buns. Seriously, those have actually happened to us...and we laughed each time. This time, however, we are not laughing. Do you KNOW what it is like to try to explain to a three-year-old that Dunkin Donuts has no doughnuts? He just looks at us like we've lost our minds and insists, "But I want doughnuts." Luckily, we need to run out again anyway...so we're going to hit another Dunkin Donuts along the way. If THEY don't have dougnuts, you'll probably hear the whining wherever you are. Wish us luck.

All that's left is me missing you

Now that we "know what happened," I still don't feel any better. I thought I would.

But I feel exactly the same.

I miss my baby. I miss him in everything I do and everything I see.

Not forgotten

I'm posting this here because I believe every baby should be remembered. I hope the friend who sent this story to me won't mind that I'm sharing it.


I was touched by the image of all the pinwheels you put on the babies' graves at the cemetery. It made me remember being little and going to the cemetery where my grandfather is buried. My mom and aunts always told us that my grandfather knew the exact location of, and always put flowers on, the unmarked grave of a baby who died long ago and was buried outside the cemetery because he/she was black. No one remembered the precise location anymore, but we always took flowers out there and guessed just the same. I have a sudden urge to drive out to that cemetery and walk through the knee-high grass outside the fence and remember that forgotten little one with some flowers.

Questions and Answers

Well, my OB/GYN called with the final autopsy results. She shared them over the phone...this woman has a lot to learn about how to deal with this sort of thing. Luckily I was having a "good" day and handled it relatively well.

From Alex's final autopsy...

There was evidence of an intercranial hemmorrhage. That can't happen once the baby is dead. So it is most likely what killed Alex.

Mercifully, I have an answer...sort of. We still don't know why the hemmorrhage happened. There are suppositions and educated guesses revolving around his large size. But it is just as possible that he could have been born early and then dropped dead. Nobody knows for sure.

It is comforting to know that Alex most likely did not suffer a long-term illness while I was oblivious. Also, I have been told that based on my recollection of events, and because his eyes were closed, it is likely Alex died in his sleep. It is something to me to know that he did not feel pain and was happy up until the end.

Now maybe the nightmares will stop.

Good question

Have I changed or am I afraid other people will think I've changed?

OK...so this question was in a conversation context that wasn't exactly phrased this way, but it's the question I came up with for today's self-psychoanalysis.

Of course I've changed. How could I NOT change? Everywhere I go there will be this missing piece, this emptiness. Everything I look at I will see where Alex should be but isn't. There is this sadness that follows me, and despite how I try, I can't shake it. I will always find it unfair that others will have happy and healthy new babies but mine died. Not that I've changed so much as to wish anyone else ill...but why us and Alex?

But more than just the present sadness, I know there is more sadness in my future...and fear. I will never again experience the unaltered joy of being pregnant. With a positive pregnancy test comes the very real knowledge that it could just as easily end in a nightmare. I will never have the pure experience of hoping and dreaming for my child(ren). I will always recognize, as a very real possibility, that any one of us could die today. That doesn't make for polite dinner conversation.

The other half of the question has a little less definite answer. Am I afraid my friends will think I've changed? Yes and no. It would be too difficult to maintain my friendships as they were before...with me acting like nothing was different. But at the same time, I don't want to ever have to deal with the sighs and the eye rolls that I know will come eventually, as if to say, "Aren't you over that yet? Can't you talk about anything else?" I know they will come...because I've been guilty of giving them myself. I'm ashamed to admit that, but it's the brutal truth. I have not been the best friend any person could have. I have been self-absorbed and often times impatient with friends who needed my love and support. So it would be poetic justice that I get that sort of treatment in return...I understand that.

Now maybe my friends are better friends than I give them credit for and they won't ever roll there eyes or become impatient with my grieving...but I'm not sure I'm willing to risk it. Yet another irrational fear/loss of faith that comes with losing my baby, I guess. It's easier to shut my friends out and deal with them on my own terms (not talking to them except to invite them to read this blog...and email). That way I know I control the situation as much as I can, and I don't have to risk disappointment. What is my problem??? I'm a coward. This has turned me into a coward...afraid of my own shadow.