tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90544184474768973712024-03-14T02:16:37.792-07:00Wild and Precious Lifejunebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-10086978427468990232018-06-18T19:57:00.000-07:002018-06-18T19:57:13.543-07:00Absolute horrorI am catapulted back to the early feelings of loss and despair as I read about what our government is doing to children and families right now. To know that every minute children are isolated from everything familiar, from any comfort, thrown in literal cages—it is to much. And yet it must not be to much for us. We, I, must push through the trauma of loss, the self protective bubble that exists to prevent truly understanding this living nightmare because it is surely to much for them.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-6387546883679519222017-01-17T02:53:00.000-08:002017-01-17T04:22:53.943-08:00My daughter would be two today.Today is the second anniversary of birth and death for S. We have a lot of stress related to housing and a lot of joy related C. Between the three of us we have been sick for over a month and we didn't plan anything notable this year. For some reason I thought that would be okay but now I'm not so sure. I'm up while C. is sleeping, in the dark quiet house .<br />
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I keep remembering the day or so leading up to this moment. We knew that she would be born, it was no longer avoidable and the strategy shifted from saving her to having her without contractions to try to save G. I am brought back to the antepartum room we had been staying in with the plant and lamp from home, the wall hanging covering the religious iconography, the quilt from my friend, the diffused light, trying to make ourselves presentable before rounds after sleepless nights. We had gone over the plan in detail with Pat the 24 hour dr. who was on duty, everything from how we would start the mag and what it would feel like, to the light that would be wheeled in, to how to breakdown the bed but still that ultrasound that showed S. had slipped past my cervix was devastating and in some way still felt unexpected. The prep ended up being mostly unnecessary, our MFM attended the delivery along with Pat and we moved to the labor and delivery side. The mag blurred my vision so much that it was a struggle to see our sweet girl for her short life, I wasn't prepared for that.<br />
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How is it that I will never hold her? Never see her grow? Never hear her voice? The bottomlessness of this never is always just beyond my comprehension. My love for her is never enough to save her. junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-16236844571726397852016-07-25T13:29:00.000-07:002016-07-25T13:29:12.668-07:00GriefEver since giving birth to G, I have had a noticeable tightness in my right leg, sometimes even a pain that runs the length of the inside of my leg. When I was first walking again I could not slip shoes on or off without using my hands to do so, the pain on that side of my vagina was too intense. Perhaps it is just a coincidence but this is also the side of my body that the epidural did not work on. I sometimes think of it as one of the small things I have left of them, my sweet babies.<br />
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We are moving across the country in less than a month. R has a new job and it is very exciting I'll (hopefully) get a few months off with C and then also find work. We are frantic with logistics including getting our house on the market by this Sunday and with C who chose this weekend to have an amazing developmental leap and sleep significantly less in the day. The job is great, the area is near where I attended undergrad and we are excited to be there.<br />
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And yet, as I pack I find myself sometimes covered in a blanket of grief. The door that I stood beside when I called R to tell her I was pregnant, the space on the sofa where I sat for a full day when we felt confident enough in our babies safety to order cribs and register, the bed I lay in when my water broke to soon, the place where I laid after losing S when I came home for two days still carrying G - where I felt him move like a gymnast, where R and my sister and I laid in a jumble and passed out the day after my month in the hospital was over and our babies were really and forever gone. These places will soon be gone too. And that will be one less thing, one less sharing between me and my missing babies.<br />
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<br />junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-69680181780043569152016-04-25T13:15:00.001-07:002016-04-25T13:15:48.138-07:00Age Appropriate Language (and content)We had thought through how we might talk to our theoretical adopted child about their hypothetical life story, however, real life with an actual child and an existing life story is a bit more complicated. In our semi-open adoption, there are things we know and lots of things we don't know. I had imagined creating the story with a birth family/mom and that just isn't in the cards for us, at least at this point. There are some solid facts that are easy to tell in age appropriate pieces and then some solid facts that seem like they might hurt his sweet sweet feelings AND lots of things that are unknown. I know that life is full of hurts and that love and healing balance things out (I am so hoping that is true); I am grateful that we have some time to think this through before he can understand what we are saying.<br />
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And so - a request. One of the biggest questions I have is how do we talk about his first mom's children who are at home with her? Does anyone else have a similar situation with a domestic infant adoption? So far, we have had one visit with her, however, we are in really different mental places, we are building a future with our son while she is grieving so I feel like the future of our relationship is completely unknown; I don't know if he will get to talk about this with her or meet his siblings. If you do have a similar situation, how have you talked about this with your child?<br />
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junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-43425416822874457352016-04-18T21:48:00.000-07:002016-04-18T21:49:37.001-07:00 so sweet it actually hurtsSleep is not easy to come by in our house right now. Little C currently has 5 approved sleeping locations and yet is currently sleeping in my arms while I blog one handed. Last night he would only sleep if he was holding my hand in his co-sleeper. When I tried to let go, whimpering ensued. Arm twisting was required but it was totally worth it.<br />
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#microblogmondaysjunebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-20130872364323814442016-04-04T11:12:00.000-07:002016-04-04T11:16:29.610-07:00It's been a while...We are a family of five, although to outsiders, we look like a family of three. Our beautiful boy was born at the end of February, three days after his firstmom chose us for her adoption plan. We held his firstmom's hand while he was delivered, I cut the cord and we spent two days together in the hospital before a very emotional goodbye. One thing that was clear every second was the abundance of love for little C; it's a miracle the hospital could contain it all. We have some pictures of C being held by his firstmom, all of us together and some of just us and him. To say our lives have changed is an understatement. Overwhelming love is the pervasive emotion, however, there is a mix of loss and sorrow even as joy fills our home. We wish S & G were toddling around; I wish C's birth mom peace and love; I hope C will always feel loved as he comes to understand his history.<br />
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We have a semi-open adoption. Through the process we had come to anticipate an open adoption so this is a little bit of a shift for us. Our semi-open adoption includes weekly photos and/or videos sent to FM via one of the agency social workers, we committed to three visits a year at the agency, and photos every month (the monthly photos were agreed upon before we started texting so I am not sure what FM would like). We have our first visit this week and it feels monumentous. FM went through her legal process two weeks ago and she gave the agency permission to give us updates so we have heard that she is doing well within this context and we know she wore the birthstone necklace we gave her to the court hearing. I have so much love for her and we have shared one of the most intimate and vulnerable human experiences with each other and yet we do not know each other very well. During our time in the hospital we were all very kind, respectful and loving with each other and I hope that can evolve into a friendship or an ongoing familial relationship, even if our visits are just a few times a year (we are open to more openness and FM is clear about that, we are also respectful of her decision to maintain her boundaries).<br />
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I don't even know how to write about C, there aren't words to express how perfect and remarkable he is. He started life as a pretty little guy but since his first week of breathing air has been gaining a pound a week! He has changed so much, big smiles in response to neck kisses, really looking at his favorite toy (having a favorite toy!), grasping my shirt and hair. I cannot get enough of him. With an average of three to four hours of sleep a night I still wake up and can't wait to see him.<br />
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We had not made a nursery, after loosing S&G the idea of having a nursery set up for years in advance or possibly to never have a tiny resident felt like too much for us. However, I have thought many times of <a href="http://mypathtomommyhood.blogspot.com/">Jess and Bryce's</a> preparations with some envy. Our family and friends rallied around us and Amazon prime was in heavy use, however we did not register so while almost everything ended up being what we needed some of it will be used in the future. The agency says repeatedly the only thing you really need is a car seat, I would revise that and say some swaddles (halos!), bottles, pacifiers, changing table, co-sleeper or bassinet and/or pack-n-play, some cloths, a white noise machine and a cool-mist humidifier would really help out. I mean, basically, I'm saying the nursery. Because the glider and the boppy pillow were also blissful additions. And since he has had a cold for the last 10 days a sterile saline mister and a nose frida have been helpful too.<br />
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I am working 6 hours a week mostly from home and R is working 50% for our FMLA period. I am seriously considering a job change with a pause for right now to take care of him. That is both terrifying (what if I don't find something else, what if I feel lost without the part of my identity that is a skilled worker, what if something happens and I've depleted all of our savings) and exhilarating (we wouldn't have to leave him with strangers during this incredibly vulnerable time). Big decisions are particularly challenging with this level of emotion and sleep deprivation, really so are little decisions.<br />
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Perhaps it's obvious from this rambling post, I am so in love, exhausted, filled with wonder, worried about being the best parent I can be, and keeping him safe that I feel like a jumble.<br />
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A fortunate jumble.<br />
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#microblogmondays<br />
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<br />junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-91150586961474303702016-02-22T10:57:00.001-08:002016-02-22T10:57:25.634-08:00Behind the waterfallHave you ever stepped behind a waterfall? There is the moment of bracing for the water--the feeling of anticipation, nervousness (especially if the water is cold) and excitement, anticipating and then feeling the force of the spray, the overwhelming feeling of water crashing down with a deafening roar followed by the feeling of otherworldliness. The muffled sound of the rushing, crashing cascade fills the space behind, the space unseen from the outside. Everything outside is muted.<br />
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On Tuesday we received a birth parent profile, on Wednesday we said please show our book, on Thursday we got a call to schedule an interview, on Friday we "interviewed" and the birth parent told us she had already chosen us. On Friday night we bought a car seat, on Saturday we got some partially made food in the freezer, cleaned the house, washed the dog and did laundry. On Sunday we finished our hospital bags, got snacks, made muffins and painted swatches for our nursery. <br />
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The birth mom is due today.<br />
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We know from experience anything can happen; we are standing in front of the waterfall hoping to find ourselves in an otherworldly space embracing all the complexities, sorrows and joys that come with this possible, miraculous new addition to our family.<br />
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junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-7007544479147804912016-01-11T20:53:00.001-08:002016-01-11T20:54:25.195-08:00Everything happens for a reason.Everyone reading this blog has probably heard that phrase and felt upset or angry or understands why that would be, you know, maybe not the worst thing you could say to a grieving parent, but definitely in the top five. The other concepts that I have issues with are that positive thinking can change an outcome as well as that previous awful things had to happen to make whatever hoped for outcome occur now. <br />
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A close friend's parent was just diagnosed with a particularly awful cancer on Saturday and they are in the deep end--overwhelmed, scared with no plan in place. We were driving out of town to go to the mountains to try to find some peace and be still with each other when we got the SOS. We turned around. I would never make these moments be about me or us but it was a real challenge. I do not believe things happen for a reason. I believe things happen and we try to figure out how to go on. I do not want to shake any of the very tentative supports the family is trying to hold onto. It was a hard day. </div>
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Not as hard as it was for the family. I know that.</div>
junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-32834456099973381892015-12-22T20:32:00.000-08:002015-12-22T20:32:43.626-08:00Holiday TravelWe are driving to my sister's house, partially because we feel the need to do something different to make it through the holiday and partially because it fits the urge to move, to run. There will be a big storm coming through and we thought about leaving a day early to avoid it, but then we would be at my sister's on Christmas morning and we definitely don't want to do that. I want to drive straight through what should have been our first Christmas with S and G and could have been our first Christmas with two tiny girls. So here's hoping we don't wind up trapped, still, buried in snow and freezing cold.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-2784005574497935802015-12-14T08:18:00.001-08:002015-12-21T16:57:37.473-08:00Preparing for the end of Year One<br />
I just finished reading Station 11, a quick good post-apocalyptic novel. I am not writing to recommend it but to note that after the post-apocalyptic event that killed almost everyone the world began counting years, Year One, Year Two, etc. Next month it will be Year One since my own post-apocalyptic event. One year since my understanding of love and loss expanded exponentially. <br />
<a name='more'></a>We are trying to identify some strategies to help us survive this month. I wish we could run away for a while, a break from work would probably help us keep going in a healthy way. The impossibility is that we would need to take the whole month off, January 6 - went for growth scan, admitted to ER. fight fight fight. January 17, tiny S is born and dies on my heart. fight fight fight. January 29 my beautiful son is born and dies in my wife's hands. How will we survive this myriad of anniversaries? I truly welcome suggestions.<br />
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Making life a bit more complicated for us, we've now experienced the ups and downs of adoption. We went live with our adoption book about two months ago. The first birth parent to look at any books at the agency asked to meet us, we met, we were matched. The birth mom went into pre-term labor, which was not unexpected as she was carrying twins. During her time in the hospital, she decided to parent*. I have made this story so short and of course, it wasn't. Family and employers were notified, we toured and prepared to set up camp at the NICU. We assessed our finances and determined I could take a year off work if need be. Our future Shifted. And then Shifted Back. The back is a particularly difficult shift.<br />
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And now, sights set on February.<br />
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#microblogmondays<br />
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*I am focusing on my reactions to loosing the possibility of parenting here. I fully recognize and respect the birth parent's right to change her mind and in fact consider this outcome so much better than if she had moved forward, relinquished custody and then regretted that decision -- for all of us.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-28079518551745159012015-09-21T09:12:00.001-07:002015-12-21T16:58:42.749-08:00The Infuriating Complications of Medical Billing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
At the end of last week I think I finally resolved the last issue from the medical bills associated with losing S & G - that's approximately 8 months after leaving the hospital. I have found the medical billing process to be inherently cruel, despite some very kind individuals functioning within it. </div>
<a name='more'></a> I believe it is inhumane to bill each aspect of a hospital separately, ranging from different doctors, the actual hospital stay, in-house anesthesia, sub-contracted anesthesia, pills vs. iv medications, etc. These bills all come at different times with different levels of information contained in them. It seems reasonable to me to expect that the hospital (or an agency contracted by the hospital) gather this information and present it to patients IN ONE DOCUMENT AT THE SAME TIME. This would alleviate the necessity of explaining to multiple parties that we did not receive redundant services, that I had a delayed delivery of my second twin and that no, contrary to what you might think, G did not survive. It would also be extremely helpful if notes were actually taken so that when I respond to the first bill in Gs name and request that it be changed to my name I do not receive both a delinquent notice AND a notice informing me that is past time when I could enroll him on my health insurance plan and will now be required to pay out of pocket. There were so many problems with our bills that I can't even try to remember them all but I will add that the last one was a bill for anesthesia that was sent to collections without notifying me and when I finally got someone on the phone she first required that I pay the bill immediately with my credit card to get it removed from my credit report and then days later verified that they had actually cashed the check (although she insists she sent us multiple notifications and they tried to call us - which did NOT happen). So many people have hospital bills as a part of losing a loved one, could there not be support in navigating the billing process during times of overwhelming grief?<br />
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Tirade over.<br />
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<br />junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-41129189828393120782015-09-16T19:08:00.000-07:002015-12-21T16:59:31.274-08:00NursesUncontrollable sobbing on the way to work this morning. It was all this talk about the miss america pagent nurse - all I could think about were our nurses. <br />
<a name='more'></a>The nurse who stayed with us when we delivered our daughter, who had to step out of the room so we wouldn't see her breakdown; she didn't want to burden us. The nurses who brainstormed in the halls, desperate to find a way for us to keep our son. The nursing supervisor who let us keep two rooms for several weeks so we could move back and forth between antepartum and postpartum as the level of emergency rose and fell, so we could keep our more "homey" set up with plants, lamps and photos for the downtimes. The nurse who fed me ice chips every three minutes while I was on the mag fighting a loosing battle. The nurses who stayed hours after their shifts when we lost our son, waiting, ready to come in and be witnesses to our son's precious life whenever we were ready to share with them. The nurse who helped us handle the iPad to Skype in our family when we could not function. The nurse who came in on her day off the day when we had to face life without either of our children and climbed into bed with us and held me. The nurses who came to our babies' service months after we lost them. There are good and inept nurses, like every other profession, but anyone who has ever needed and received care from a wonderful nurse has no doubt of their importance and value.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-41760556137260136652015-08-24T11:11:00.001-07:002015-12-21T17:00:38.717-08:00Revisiting a now dated draft: Beginning the Adoption ProcessI originally started the post below several weeks ago and was reviewing it now that we have moved to the next step - officially beginning our home study. We have our first interview this afternoon. It is interesting to see how some of my emotions have shifted and some of my feelings have not.<br />
<a name='more'></a> We are both excited for our conversation today, the class was helpful. <br />
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Excitement definitely seems like a good sign.<br />
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As we head into the mandatory two-day class necessary to enter the adoption pool at the agency we've begun working with we are both feeling waves of emotion. R worried on our walk two-days ago that a new baby would seem to replace our first children. I am struck by the difference between the exuberant excitement others seem to have when launching forward on to this path and the extreme caution I feel. At first I felt that perhaps this indicated it was too soon to begin this process but after more reflection I think I may just never feel as excited about the prospect of having a baby as others might. I know what it feels like to believe that we will have babies to raise only to be left grasping for the brief memories and the what ifs; I know what it feels like to rearrange life to accommodate tiny twins and to instead be accommodating overwhelming grief. I may not feel excited until or unless we have our child in our arms with all final documents signed. My heart has the capacity for love but my expectations are raw.<br />
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junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-27436287112491253562015-08-15T15:17:00.002-07:002015-08-15T15:17:35.682-07:00Desire Under the Elms?For at least two nights, I have fallen asleep with a half baked blog idea, something about tree roots connected to how difficult it was to get rid of the elm tree we had to cut down whose roots were EVERYWHERE in our front yard. I know there was some connection to O'Neil's <i>Desire Under the Elms</i> and the role of the elms in that play but I have no idea what it is. So...even though I might not be blogging while fully awake, apparently I am very busy writing a complex and likely very interesting blog in my sleep. junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-86797249130711834662015-08-03T14:20:00.000-07:002015-12-21T17:01:04.500-08:00BeesI love to look out at the garden, relax my eyes and become aware of all the busy bees buzzing everywhere. The dark green tomato plants, punctuated by the glowing orange of sungold cherries and the dark reds of the early girls, are freckled with tiny yellow flowers--future tomatoes. The lush green is framed by the brilliant purple russian sage and everything is all alive with bees. The bees' translucent wings and fine hairs simmer in the heat as they erratically glide between flowers and plants.<br />
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Our yard, primarily as a result of R's planning, has flowers from the beginning of spring into the winter and bees are our number one visitors. I can remember being afraid of bees (and I still feel that way about yellow jackets) but the shear quantity of lazy, happy bees for most of the year has eliminating that feeling. Now when I come up our walkway between the two huge lavender bushes swarming with bees, I don't even pause as I brush up against them and they billow around my legs. It feels like we are working together to create cone flowers, apples, honeysuckle, helenium and roses. And we have succeeded.<br />
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junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-44999187817429755632015-07-27T10:42:00.004-07:002015-12-21T17:01:27.114-08:00Happy BirthdaySaturday was my birthday, never has the phrase "happy birthday" been so jarring. As a child, alright even as an adult, I LOVED my birthday. I called July my birthday month and sometimes stretched the Leo-esque celebration into August with the "well, it's two weeks before and two weeks after" rationale. This year I asked folks who are close to me not to mark the day, with varying levels of compliance.<br />
<a name='more'></a> That really helped. R still got me a gift, a basket and lights on my bike but no fanfare at all. A few friends gave me gifts but they were not delivered in a capital B birthday way. While I appreciate the intention behind phrases like "I hope you have a wonderful day," "Today's the day to celebrate you," and "Hope you are doing something special" the comments were so out of line with my reality that they felt a little mean. Something special would be holding my children, not looking at their ashes. I absolutely know this was not the intent of the well-wishers so I tried to be gracious.<br />
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I had to go to work for much of the day which was a blessing. I was speaking to a group ranging from 300- 120 folks so I had to be "on" and my compartmentalizing skills have greatly improved over the last six months; I only had one teary eyed moment at work. I think I am moving towards some kind of acceptance. I don't seem to be surprised by their absence any more nor does folks talking about babies make me feel panic. My current state of mind seems to be focused on bearing the weight of this sadness and trying to figure out who I am now. <br />
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Happy Birthday to me.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-10786384748240673252015-07-20T05:43:00.001-07:002015-12-21T17:02:00.001-08:00Be the best that you can beDo you remember that commercial? "Find your future in the aaaaaaaarmy." That jingle brings up some comparisons between service and loss related PTSD - I was in a trauma informed service provision training last week where I didn't learn anything new about providing services but I did realize that I am moving through the world in my own sort of shell-shock.<br />
<a name='more'></a> Constantly being triggered and trying desperately to compartmentalize and get through each day while still trying to be the "best" and make sure that I am processing how I am feeling even when I am repressing. I have always felt like I have to be the best or one of the best, best performance evaluations, best innovations, best communication, best supervisor. This same internal pressure is causing me to feel like I have best grief process. Although thankfully sometimes what that is changes or I probably would be busy being the best at finding an even lower low. At first I thought loosing the pregnancy weight would be the best but then when that proved impossible I decided that accepting the pregnancy weight would be the best. I need my relationship with R to be the best relationship, I expect us to stumble but for us to quickly find solutions to our conflicts and be the best conflict solvers ever. These are just two examples of many I could name, one more and then I'll move on. I took on a consulting job in the evenings for the last several weeks - why would I do that? Oh that's right because I have to be the best I can be.<br />
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I find myself wishing I had a faith tradition to buffer some of this, like "let go and let God." But I don't. Occasionally I wish I could take an alcohol or drug induced break from this but I guess that's the one time this pressure is a saving grace. What have you found helps you keep moving forward, or at least standing still, in a healthy, or relatively healthy way?junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-53658960446071545582015-06-22T09:17:00.002-07:002015-12-21T17:03:05.491-08:00Sample itinerary from the trip of grief and sorrow7:15 am, wake up after third night in a row of terrible sleep due to inadequate air conditioning and odd blankets combined with no black out curtains.<br />
8 am, email old friend from highschool who recently lost her mother because you dreamed about her and her mom. Send carefully worded email mentioning that while you are experiencing different kinds of grief, you are thinking about her from your corner of this terrible world.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
9 am, participate in yoga by the bay. Enjoy the relatively easy session and try not to cry when instructed to find gratitude.<br />
10:15, change out of sweaty clothes.<br />
10:30 eat complimentary breakfast in overpriced dining facility. Try to ignore cheerful children posing math questions to relatives, "OK OK here's a hard one, you have to answer this one all by yourself. How much is 1,000 take away 3?" Enjoy time with your wife, despite ongoing grief.<br />
11:45 am, receive email from old friend mentioned
above. Try to focus on her intent rather than the phrase, "I hope you
get to experience true motherhood."<br />
Noon, return to room to figure out next step, cry off and on for about an hour and a half.<br />
1:30 Get It Together. Cut up vegetables (novelty food on this trip) and pack things up to go to the beach.<br />
2:00 Get to beach. Find that it is surprisingly warm. Sit on the surfing side to minimize cute toddlers. Have brief moment when toddler and parent are on the Wrong Side of the divide and wife thinks about G's tiny premie nipples and wonders why he isn't still alive.<br />
2:30 put feet in ocean, find that it is also not to cold. Spend next hour or so enjoying being thrown around by the waves while your wife body surfs and grins. Love her real hard.<br />
4:00 return to blanket covered in goosebumps. Eat vegetables, flip through million dollar real estate magazine. Insist that we can afford a house here and probably should move here and then find jobs.<br />
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</xml><![endif]-->5:00 return towels before being charged $10 each, shower, appreciate that
despite the 25 lbs weight gain mostly in thighs and belly - butt still looks
good.<br />
5:30 write part of a blog post while waiting to participate in TCF chat to
try to maintain self-care.<br />
6 chat with caring parents who have all lost a child.<br />
7 rush to quickly catch the free ferry across the bay to get to dinner
reservations at 8 pm<br />
7:45 get into emotionally charged almost silent argument with your wife as a
result of trying to get to a dinner reservation on a crowded boardwalk after
loosing your two beautiful children.<br />
7:55 watch sunset while trying to complete the therapist approved STOP
technique to have a moment of repair.<br />
8:05 make dinner reservation. Love your wife so much.<br />
8:20 order food in incredibly loud two-week old restaurant, enjoy beautiful
view of silver ocean<br />
9 receive said food now that you are almost dead of starvation, find it
delicious, order more, eat random things from the menu.<br />
10:10 pay check, use restroom and realize there is NO SOAP despite seeing SERVERS in the restroom. Depart for return ferry.<br />
10:30 ride ferry with a very drunk wedding party and an insanely loud dj
because quiet family ferry turns into pseudo-booze cruise after 9. Be sure to note, it is a federal offense to jump into the bay although no one on the boat can tell you what the law or mandate is.<br />
11 get stomach ache from either weird foods eaten or stress associated with
loosing two parts of yourself.<br />
11:15 drink mint tea that your wife makes you.<br />
11:30 watch the Bachelorette streaming online until 1 am.<br />
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junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-36985321160248180962015-06-12T20:19:00.000-07:002015-06-12T20:19:38.659-07:00Traveling with spotty internetI have thought of several different blog posts but been unable to get online when they are seeming clear. Right now we are 1 week into our 3 week running away trip. San Francisco is nice because I lived in about 15 years ago so I have some sense of the geography but it is unfamiliar and takes all of my attention to navigate. Today is R's bday, tears started the day. She thought we'd have three Geminis in the family to combat my singular Leo-ness, but we do not. We took a bus part way to Japantown, walked up all the hills, had sushi, picked up two different desserts and walked the several miles back. I think the physical activity, and the wine, is helping for a calmer end of the day. Also the in and out of denial makes a pretty big difference in functionality. Sunday we are off to Big Sur on our southern leg.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-42314437466499974442015-06-08T08:44:00.001-07:002015-06-08T08:44:20.768-07:00War and peaceA few nights ago I had a truly wicked nightmare. I dreamed that I killed two people. Intentionally. One I took to the forest and put in a deep pit of mulch where I knew wolves would be and the other I may have dismembered. I did not see them die but I knew I had done it. I didn't know why I did it and I felt so confused. I woke up several times throughout the dream feeling sick about what I had done, terrified that someone would find out and so so lonely. When I woke up for the final time it took a long time before I realized I hadn't actually killed anyone. That realization came with such a feeling of peace. I am not a murderer. Even though my cervix failed my children, I did not kill my babies. If I can hold onto that, let go of some of the guilt and just grieve for them I might be finding a path to live through this.<br />
<br />
#microblogmondayjunebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-81919818654173877382015-06-01T07:15:00.000-07:002015-06-01T07:16:46.727-07:00The New Laughter: Hysteria and Emptiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Laughter hasn't been to frequent of a visitor lately, but there have been some moments, particularly when with people who deeply understand loss when I have laughed hard. I've had two responses, one is to feel like I am watching myself and a hollowness engulfs me and the other is to feel a little like I can't stop. The edge of hysterical. That has happened twice now. Has anyone else felt like this?junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-64439821772373091682015-05-18T08:09:00.001-07:002015-05-18T08:09:21.771-07:00FunctioningYesterday we squished approximately 75 crickets and dropped, maybe, 200 slugs in soapy water. For some reason all my (too small) bathing suits are in the babies' room and, in preparation for our vacation, I had to retrieve them to try bottoms on, so in addition to mass murder, I went into the almost nursery.* We did not fill out the adoption agency's application form. We did not buy groceries for the week. We did not go to bed at a normal hour. I then had dreams about finding insect infestations on our plants until I gave up and got out of bed at 5:15 this morning. I still didn't make it to work until 8:30. This is what functioning looks like.<br />
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*Tops are another story, although I did not get to nurse our babies I did lactate, my breasts are now about 3X their pre-lactation size.<br />
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<br />junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-46384282679321179342015-05-11T08:32:00.000-07:002015-12-21T17:03:28.094-08:00From infertility treatments to cervical insufficiency<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For years we tried to get pregnant via ICI at home. LOTS of people we know were successful at this, using known or unknown donor sperm resulting in beautiful babies, toddlers, children and young adults all over the place. Our schedules are tricky, my cycles are trickier, after years of trying we decided to see a reproductive endocrinologist.<br />
<a name='more'></a> The first cycle started with comic induced hormonal upheaval, truly wanting to quit my job. The shots were terrifying at first, leaving giant bruises on my belly but it got easier. Then the big day -- two week wait results in HCG of 60. BFP. We are pregnant. A little nervous b/c they wanted the result to be 100 but anything over 5 is pregnant so we think our baby was just a late implanter and we are done. Week 5 ultrasound, apparently things looked off but the tech didn't say anything to us. Week 6 ultrasound, no heartbeat. Long story of a terrible practitioner and our baby lost its heart beat between weeks 8 and 9. I had a D&C at this time last year. <br />
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We waited to try again. Tried again, during the IUI the sample was poor so they added another resulting in terrible cramping and no pregnancy.<br />
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We tried again. BFP. Insanely high HCG. We inseminated with 6 follicles and now our dr. is very concerned we could have 3 or 4 babies. She talks to us about selective reduction. Terrifying. Week 6 ultrasound. Two perfect tiny babies. Two perfect heart beats. And, aside from the joy of pregnancy--you know the end result.<br />
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Fertility treatments were rough. The emotional roller coaster of home inseminations was rough. Nothing compared to this. Cervical Insufficiency or Cervical Incompetence is a different monster, for me. Some women have a better outcome with a preventative transvaginal cerclage (I had two already although they were in the "rescue" timeframe, not preventative), 75% result in a live baby being born, almost always pre-term with bed rest. I know I cannot handle that stress or at least I cannot handle choosing that stress. The other option is a transabdominal cerclage which can also be placed preventatively, preferably before pregnancy. For us to do this would require that we fly to Chicago to see Dr. Haney one of only a couple experienced at this procedure. It is covered by my insurance, so total out-of-pocket expense would be about $1,000 plus travel and hotel -- so much cheaper than I would have imagined. 98% of babies are born after 36 weeks, when IC was the correct diagnosis. Even with that fact, somehow I cannot choose surgery. I still feel bruised from all of the procedures my body endured trying to save our babies. My feelings about my body are complicated and far from positive and the idea of having another surgery feels frightening. This feels like the end of the line. <br />
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I am mostly okay with that, we are starting to learn about adoption -- we had always thought we would adopt, just after I had the opportunity to be pregnant and give birth. We are not ready right now but have starting learning about adoption. Holy Hannah. It is complicated. A new language, new fears, new obstacles.<br />
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I have tried to separate ever having children from the enormous loss of my precious babies. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the difference feels important and sometimes it doesn't. Either way, the grief persists.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-71033830264486705062015-05-04T08:13:00.000-07:002015-05-04T09:24:40.008-07:00Time of Day<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jWCuKn8Ki34/VUeM0xUPMKI/AAAAAAAAAzk/IFuX_meMVI8/s1600/Microblog_Mondays.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jWCuKn8Ki34/VUeM0xUPMKI/AAAAAAAAAzk/IFuX_meMVI8/s1600/Microblog_Mondays.png" /></a>My mother is a cartographer by training. [I am not, so this is not an inexact description.] It is possible to look through a lens down at a photograph of a landscape and the shadows of the clouds on the mountains will reveal the time of day that the picture was taken. Capturing a still image of a transient shadow of something almost insubstantial creates a permanent time stamp. <br />
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The babies nursery has one wall painted purple, the others still cream. One giant giraffe. Two dressers. One baby bath. Drawers full of baby clothes. A gift bag full of sympathy cards. A permanent time stamp.<br />
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I struggle with the urge to finish the nursery. To hang their names on the wall, to reorder the returned cribs. To unfold the handmade blankets. To have a room finished and permanent. To further encrypt the message currently stamped on the room, to make the message unavailable to anyone without the appropriate lens, without the key. And then to loose the key, to hold the nursery as a marker for them, of them. To deny the message entirely.<br />
<br />junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054418447476897371.post-37018330827394911542015-04-27T17:09:00.000-07:002015-04-27T17:09:01.412-07:00Facebook<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKQNeHvjin0/VT7PO9DvodI/AAAAAAAAAzM/QaKsWHlHGeU/s1600/Microblog_Mondays.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rKQNeHvjin0/VT7PO9DvodI/AAAAAAAAAzM/QaKsWHlHGeU/s1600/Microblog_Mondays.png" /></a>We had our babies service on Saturday and it is way to much for me to even begin to write about now. Today we posted the front of our babies memorial card on Facebook. We talked about it and there are pros and cons. There are two big positives for me. First that more people will know of our beautiful babies including folks I see rarely and who don't know we lost them. Second knowing others who've experienced similar losses was tremendously helpful to me and if our sharing can help others not feel so alone, I want to do that. The negative possibilities include stupid comments, creating stress for pregnant women and being vulnerable (that one is a positive too). In any case it's done.junebughttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10925785225181424740noreply@blogger.com1