Monday, April 30, 2012

The Nursery and Heartbreak

This weekend I washed, folded and put away all my baby boy's clothes and blankets.

It wasn't like last time. Last time, I had set aside an entire weekend to do this. I relished it. I washed the clothes, looked at each one, smelled them after they came warm out of the dryer, folded, re-folded, and organized them in my baby girl's nursery.

This time, I was methodical, detached, matter of fact. I barely looked at the outfits. I put them in the drawers, in no real particular order. There was no re-folding. I shut the drawers, and felt the vague sense of panic I always feel when doing anything to prepare for this baby.

Earlier yesterday, Dave and I went to Babies R Us and found some blankets, since of course all the blankets I had for Georgie were pink, purple or otherwise girly. We bought some nice little boy blankies, and some other gender neutral items.

I had on my list that we needed a GroEgg thermometer, which gives us the temperature of the room and tells us whether we're in the appropriate range for our baby. It was part of my small anti-SIDS item list, which I never would have conceived of if my first baby hadn't died.

As we were wandering the store trying to find the thermometer, we kept running across other items that we weren't sure if we needed or not. A couple of times Dave asked me if we needed such-and-such, and I just shrugged my shoulders. And I began to feel so angry. Angry that there I was again, at Babies R Us, buying items for a baby that isn't here yet. Panicked that he is going to die. Angry that my first baby did die. That I have to live with that everyday, that every morning I wake up to that reality. Angry that I can't use any girl items for a boy who likely never would have existed if his sister had made it. Angry that Dave and I aren't old pros at this whole parenting a baby thing, as we should be by now, with a 13 month old in tow.

Compound that with the fact that on the way to Babies R Us, I was checking my BLM blogs, and I read about a family in Alaska. A family in Alaska who had a stillborn little boy last year due to some defects. They were expecting their rainbow baby girl, and when I read the post, titled with her name "Evelynn Augusta Rasmussen," I read it with anticipation of learning her birth story.

But no, the post told me that their little rainbow baby girl died two days after she was born.

Heartbroken, shattered, for these parents doesn't even begin to describe how I felt, how I feel.

I have been reeling since yesterday. As I thought of what these parents are going through right now, again, I couldn't help but be brought back to last March, when all I could feel was death, the death of my child, and my own desperate pleading to God to take me too. The intensity of the sorrow, the horror, the pain, the darkness, it comes back to me even now. It frightens me to no end. I have told Dave many times there is no way I can re-live what we had to endure last March, what we still endure. It might be the fatal blow to any sense of hope I have left. To read of a family who has gone through what we did, and now goes through it AGAIN with their second child, and to also have no living children, just brings me to my knees.

I don't understand it. And it frankly pisses me off. Why? WHY would God let this happen again? What is the point of all of this? Yeah, yeah, I get it, we live in a fallen world, God doesn't control our choices, right. But doesn't God make choices too? What choice was made when my daughter's life support system was made with a huge flaw, when her umbilical cord was basically not attached to her placenta? Who do we blame then? What about here, when a stillbirth, which is one of the most horribly devastating things I can possibly fathom, happens, and then the next baby dies after only two days? What then?

And what about these parents, who are now enduring another funeral, burial plans instead of coming home plans for their rainbow baby? I HATE IT.

I woke up in the middle of the night sad, teary-eyed and panicked, thinking of this family. Reaching with my heart across the miles and wondering if this mama was awake, and thinking that she probably was. And I could feel her despair. My heart ached for my girl, ached for this mother and father, for their two children that are gone.

I am so sad and so angry for this family I can hardly stand it. It makes me want to scream and break things. It makes me want to yell at people who don't know anything of this reality that not only does it happen, but that it happens twice to some people. And these people don't deserve it, these people are good, kind people, who do everything right and only want to bring home their child, alive.

This is the kind of thing that just crushes my spirit. Please keep this family in your prayers, though I even question those right now.

Thursday, April 26, 2012


Remembering Thomas Anton Herdejurgen today. Born 5 years ago, already in heaven. Your family misses you, sweet boy.

Please send prayers and loving thoughts this sweet family's way. I know this day is so hard for them.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Here Comes the Sun [Son]

I was humming this after my MFM appt today.

I mean, how can you look at this face and not hum a song like that?

And if any of you are wondering, little brother is not so much a show his face kind of guy. We've never seen him full on, as he tends to hide himself with his hands. But, wow, what a cutie. I love his "power to the people" fist, too. A little fighter, I love it!

Just wish they were both with me. 

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Adios Sonoline B

The fetal doppler has peace'd out.

I can't say I'm surprised. I've been using that thing roughly 3-5 (10? I have had a couple of those days) times per day since December. Now when I put it on my belly, it emits a lovely whining noise and the screen tends to go blank.

Last night, I was checking little guy's heartbeat with it and it told me it was 112. Before I had a coronary and told my husband we needed to go to L&D, I decided to test it on my own heartbeat. So I put it up over my own heartbeat. 135.

Ok. Time to let this one go.

Sweet hubby has already ordered fetal doppler #2, to be shipped overnight to us. He had no choice, as I was starting to go into hyperventilation mode thinking of the next 6 weeks without my doppler.

Don't judge.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Keeping Watch

I am exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically.

I've reached that oh so lovely point in pregnancy where I have started to feel like my body is literally creaking every time I want to change position. Baby boy is cramped too, I can tell. He likes to shove his back up against the right side of my belly, which is something his big sis loved to do too. My babies seem to love that side of my body.

I'm just tired of the vigilance this pregnancy after loss seems to require. Just. So. Tired. I'm tired of the sleepless nights, of the moment several times I day where I think "ok, he's gone," the restlessness, the irritability. Add on top of that my impending sense of doom and dread, and the sheer breathtaking grief that still hits me more often than I'd like, and I'm just tired.

I'm sick of the stupid comments. Yesterday at Easter brunch, someone asked me if I have "everything I need" for the baby. Uh...well, we have Georgie's stuff. I guess we need a co-sleeper, although I've thought to myself that maybe we could use our pack and play from last time. But I'm having a c-section (read: another complication with Georgie's birth that could have proved fatal if she hadn't already been gone, yeah, the universe really did mean to doom me on that one, one way or the other), I think I need a co-sleeper, like an Arm's Reach type of deal.

I haven't bought this yet. I can't bring myself to grace the doors of Babies R' Us. It was all I could do to read the "Happy First Birthday!" card I received a couple of weeks from them, or to even get coupons in the mail. I'm worried if I actually get in there, I'll just start hyperventilating.

I also need a carseat, because I just can't bring myself to use the green and pink one I had bought for my daughter. Of course I picked pink, thinking I would use it for her awhile, never thinking that reality would drive me to shove it in a closet and try my damnedest to get pregnant again after burying my daughter six months earlier. Never did I imagine I would need yet another carseat so quickly after my first child was born. Without pink, of course.

I had somehow thought I had a lot of white onesies with Georgie. No, not so much. I did, but they almost all have pink or purple detail. Sigh. So I need to buy some of those for little baby brother.

Back to the Easter conversation. After I sort of shrugged off the question, someone at brunch (not anyone related to me, though he knows what happened to us), says, "do you all have a monitor?" I tell him yes, although I'm thinking of upgrading. He then says, "well they have a great infrared monitor out there that actually checks if your baby's still alive or something crazy like that."

It was the way he said it. I don't even think I'm a good enough writer to explain it in this blog, but it just Pissed. Me. Off. I feel as if I can only explain this story with cuss words and wild hand gestures, but I could feel the heat rising in my face.

Then he proceeded to say, "Ah well, with your first you'll be totally freaked out. Then by your second, you'll start to relax and by the third you won't even care."

I don't know what to say other than that I wished I wasn't pregnant so I could reach across the table and punch this d-bag in the face. I couldn't even talk back. I was just stunned that this person knew what we had been through, and now somehow this little guy inside me is my first, rather than the universal truth that he is actually my second. And I will never be naive enough again to think that I'm going to somehow relax with subsequent children. Right, dude.

Yesterday was just more difficult and more sad than I thought it would be. Easter makes me think of little girls running through flowers, little girls with beautiful honey blond hair and beautiful easter dresses. I saw so many little girls wearing easter dresses yesterday at church, and it just made me so sad. I missed my girl so much. I hope and pray that next Easter I have a beautiful little boy in my arms who is struggling to get out so he can walk/crawl/toddle around, but it just doesn't take away the heartache of missing my girl at Easter.

We went out to the cemetery yesterday, and we arrived to discover that there is nothing but dirt and mud around her grave and about 6 other baby markers. I noticed this during her birthday week and had called them to see when they were going to sod. They assured me it would be "done by Easter."

It hasn't been.

I am also pretty pissed about this. Not even sure how to address it, but I'm pretty sure not-so-nice Katie is coming out and heads are going to roll. I'm not happy. How hard is it to maintain a cemetery? It's just like a big yard. Just keep the grass green, and you're doing pretty good. But I'm angry about it.

I'm obviously very on edge. When I explained to my OB today that I had a damn near panic attack on Friday during my NST because I was convinced my baby was going to die in the middle of the NST, he told me he wants me on an anti-anxiety med. I'm not sure about this, but I can recognize that at this point, I'm in some stage or another of panic attack all the time right now.

A really hard part of it is how torn I feel about everything. Excited. Terrified. Telling myself to be constantly vigilant to try and save this baby before he's born. Knowing that my daughter's death could not have been prevented, that she died likely within a matter of minutes and that there was really nothing we could have done to save her. Telling her little brother all the time "to hang on" until he's here with us, when obviously he has no control over whether he lives or dies at this point, and also knowing that just because my baby is with me doesn't mean he gets to stay. That crazy, random, shitty ass luck happens all the time to all kinds of people. Somehow thinking I have some control. Knowing I really don't. Begging and pleading with God to keep this little boy safe, and telling God candidly that I'm pissed He didn't save my first and that I don't understand the plan at all.

Tired. Glad to rant, though.
May 24 cannot get here soon enough.