The Scary Shit That Happens

Last week... I emailed a BLM friend.  It was Thursday April 18th.  Sometimes when I'm all alone in my compose box, with a specific person in mind that I'm talking to... my train of thought flows better.

 

I've made several trips to triage in the 3rd trimester... but mainly because I was bothered by the fact that you can just never be too sure.... but never had I been confronted with the very real reality that this baby probably died. 

 

My emotions were flying high the other day, and I didn't plan on getting into a very "down" aspect of the up's and down's of pregnancy after loss.  But I did.  And I wrote this:

 

Written Thursday April 18, 2013.

 

I had so many intentions to blog weekly after my doctors appointments... documents/vent about the ups and downs of this pregnancy... but mentally and emotionally, work really drained me. And I was somewhat ok with that. Because the days just flew by. And my random days off, I'd either have a doctors appointment, or it'd be a Sunday where Daniel and I would window shop for home decor ideas, and then visit his parents then call it a day with a movie and dinner at home. I just never got my ass on the lap top and blogged.

 

And every week was so UP... and then SO DOWN. And everything in between with my emotional state was so bloody exhausting that by the time I was ready to sit down and spill... something else had come up - be it family things, work things, a trip to triage - that I could never properly focus my writing abilities to get it all out.

 

Right after putting up that post last week... things felt like they were taking a turn.

 

And just recently, I was so sure this baby had died... or was dying (he didn't, and wasn't). It was Tuesday night (Apr 16)... he was a bouncing ball of energy, with lots of turns and pokes.. and I fell asleep on the couch around 9pm after dinner. (That is a pretty normal thing as of late). At around 10:30, Daniel turned all electronics/sports/lights off, and dragged me up to bed. I brushed my teeth.. drank water.. and waited for the baby to give me a few settling down movements. And there was nothing. I tried to assure myself that once I completely settle again for the night, that he will do his thing, and thump around a bit while I fall back asleep in the bed... and tomorrow will be another day of normal. I got in bed... found my position, and there was nothing. I changed sides... shook at my belly, and waited. Did I feel a shift from him? Or was that me? There are still high amounts of fluid, and he is a big baby at this point, so a little jiggle makes his entire back bob back and forth against the wall of my uterus. But there was no tone coming back from him.

 

"WTF baby, be alive already..."

 

I looked at the clock, it was now close to 11:30pm. It had been about an hour with no movements. Or at least nothing big enough that I could feel. (with the fluid, there have been times where I see this baby moving on ultrasound - hands and head turns - and I don't feel it because of the fluid separating him from my uterus). I sat up... told Daniel that he wasn't giving me anything. I started shaking. Our room was cold, and I was only in a tank top... and had thrown the covers off of me to make sure I was only focusing on baby's movements. Daniel told me to stop shaking so he could feel. I got up, turned on the space heater... laid on my left side facing Daniel.. and I lost it. First just cried, and felt my body shake with the sobs... but then, when even my sobbing didn't bring this little baby back to his active self with a kick or a twitch.. I went over the edge a bit, and turned hysterical. I cried, and shrieked, "I can't do this again if he died. I can't be pregnant again with a dead baby. He cant die! I cant do this if he dies!!"

 

... just a mess.

 

Daniel held me, while his hands were somehow still on my belly, and asked if I wanted to go in... I cried and cried, "I cant go in and have them tell me he's dead! I cant do it again!!". I threw the pillows from between my legs off of me, and screamed, "WE HAVE TO GO THOUGH! He's NOT MOVING!" The time was now close midnight... and I was hit with the very real scenario that on the night of Feb 26, 2012, the EXACT same thing happened. THE EXACT SAME THING.

 

My bowels instantly liquefied, and I needed to use the washroom (the same thing happened in the hospital last year when we went in with Alexander already dead, and the first round of nurses couldn't find his heartbeat - I was in the washroom with boarder line diarrhea while we waited for the ultrasound). I went into the washroom, and stripped down, and sat on the toilet. I was crying... but planned on taking a shower (I hadn't washed my hair in like... 3 days), and get ready to spend the night in the hospital because I knew I'd be induced..and probably with a dead baby. I heard Daniel start crying in the bedroom. He tried his best to not be loud, but he couldn't help it. I heard him going through the dresser, and get dressed, and head downstairs. I was going to ask him to pack me a bag... and tell him I was going to shower... but it hit me. Maybe this one wasn't dead. Maybe he's dying, and we have a chance to get him out via c-sections..or something... and packing a bag, or showering would be using precious minutes of his life.

 

I finished up in the washroom (full of frustration that my body reacts this way to situations of panic and anxiety. Toilet bound) and got dressed, rushed downstairs... grabbed my phone charger, and camera and we sped downtown to our hospital.

 

In the car... Daniel asked me how this was different from the other nights that we made a trip to triage. (He was trying not to lose it himself, and get his mind away from the certainty that this baby had indeed died, too) I told him because even after getting in the car... going from sitting to standing multiple times... I felt nothing. In the past 3-4 late night trips to triage...I felt something. Something weak and not reassuring... but it was something. This time... there was nothing. I cried the entire time driving down. It was now almost 12:30AM... and the time was almost synchronized with our trip on Feb 26th. We drove to the hospital that February night, and the clock in the car read 1 something. I cried more. When we were approaching the ramp for the downtown exit, I called triage. I don't know how I managed.. but I told them I wanted to give them a heads up that Veronica - patient of Dr. W - was coming in shortly. "What are you experiencing?" In the lowest, sternest voice I could muster, in hopes to not fall apart into a high pitched crying mess.. I said, "decreased fetal movement. A lot of decreased fetal movement". The nurse softly said, "ok, we'll see you soon", and I clicked END. As we made our way through the empty downtown streets... hitting a lot of red lights... I thought this was it. There was no maybe's or we'll see's or let's hope... it was it...this dead baby...was it. I realized there was no reassuring thought to hold on to, Because Dead is Dead. Because after you've been in a spot where you are hoping things are ok, and making your way to the hospital - doing the right thing - and ready to face anything that might be wrong with your baby...and your baby is already dead...? Already dead after normal activity just a few hours before..? After making it past term, and playing the waiting game because everyone told you everything was fine? And he's dead? Just dead? Well, there is no hope to hold on to.

 

We parked, and made our way to the 7th floor. I said to Daniel in the elevator that if the baby is dead, I don't want to stay. I want to go back home and get my things, and come back later. I don't know what I was thinking... but I didn't want to face a bunch of nurses and puzzled doctors. If he was dead, I wanted to go home, and be alone. We walked down the empty hallway to triage, and I told Daniel that he had to do all the talking. I handed him my hospital cards, and we both stood at the counter. A nurse was on the phone with another patient. She was the only one in sight. Daniel told me to sit down, and he'll tell her. I sat down ... and felt a thump. Did I imagine it? Did he move? I looked up at the clock. Almost 1AM. 1 movement in 3 hours isn't a good thing...

 

I sat, and listened to the nurse on the phone. I heard every word she said, but I had no focus for the life of me - and have no idea what scenario the woman on the other end was dealing with. As soon as she was done on the phone... Daniel was going to introduce us...and give her an update regarding why we were here... but she came around the desk, "Veronica?" and I stood and nodded... and she walked us to an empty room. I realized this is the "decreased fetal movement" room. As I said before, we'd been to triage before (3 or 4 times?) but we didn't ever call ahead... we just showed up, and said we wanted to get assessed. "Why?" "I don't feel the baby enough". And they would pick any room... any free room... and strap me up right away, and there he was. But this time... they were ready for me. This room was at the back of triage... across from the registration room, and a bathroom... no other assessment rooms beside. I went in, took my coat and scarf off...and the nurse asked me, nicely, gently, "What's going on tonight guys...?" I looked at her... probably looking like something from a horror movie - red eyes, and no hope - and asked if she had read my file. She told me that in the amount of time from my phone call, she hasn't had a chance. I sat on the bed, and lifted my shirt... and said, "Well, let's just see if there's a heartbeat.." and started to cry some more.

 

She quickly got the belts all in place... and I put my hands on my face, fingers tucked under my glasses. I was losing it. And she flicked on the volume...

 

whooka, whooka, whooka, whooka...

 

I cried and cried. And so did Daniel. Like weeping, sobbing messes we were. The nurse said, again gently and softly "ok, I'll keep that on nice and loud for you guys to have a listen, and I'm going to catch myself up on your file." Daniel was at the foot of the bed, looking at the monitor that was to my upper left... and I asked, "What's it at? Is it normal?" In my state... I couldn't tell if what I was hearing was too fast, or too slow.. or both alternating speeds... but Daniel told me it was normal. "It's in the 140's" he said. I nodded and kept crying.

 

While hooked up, for about 20 min... I only felt him move 2 or 3 times. I wasn't completely reassured by his heartbeat. Alive, ok. But will he keep living? Is he going to die tomorrow? Why isn't he moving?

 

They showed us that the strip for the NST was completely normal, and even with the movements they picked up from baby, there were no decelerations.. and the beat was nice and strong. They were going to do an ultrasound anyway. An ultrasound on that little mini machine that can detect very little... but it would give them a little mini BPP. The resident OB that was on that night was a complete moron. She was "very very sure" that everything was fine.  The lovely nurse informed her that we had a stillbirth at 41 weeks last year... and this idiot looked at me, and said, "how? I mean.. was the baby alive at birth?" I swear, I don't know how some "doctors" get where they get. She was still a resident.. but my god, holy fuck. The nurse was oh so kind to fill this jackass in.. and the resident still asked me, "but how?" And I said, pretty pissed off.."WELL, he didn't have a heartbeat, and I gave birth to him anyway. That's how". "Yes, ok, I see... but how did this happen? Do you know why the baby died? Was it labour?" (She was an Indian women - so I'm doing my best Indian accent right now as I retell the story). I told her it was probably the overdue factor... and maybe GBS has something to do with it. "Yes, I see. But GBS doesn't make babies die... maybe an infection, but it doesn't kill..". I tried to get all the facts out.. but this doc was an idiot. No real world experience, no big losses yet in her career... so if the text book didn't tell it to her, than it was up for fucking debate. Regardless of the fact that THIS REALLY HAPPENED, she was still debating the possibilities in her dialogue because of what is supposed to and no supposed to happen when it comes to pregnancy, labour, babies, a growing fetus... etc. I was ready to say, "you're a fucking genius, he SHOULD NOT HAVE died... and on that note, let me just to get him in his stroller, and put this current pregnancy away!!" but didn't. I boiled it down for her. "supply and demand" I said. "a 41 week old placenta cant support a perfectly, healthy, demanding growing baby... so he died."

 

We moved forward with the ultrasound... and there baby was. Lazy and still. What a bum! It was now officially the middle fo the night, so I assumed that this was in fact a very deep sleep he was in. His bpm was now in the mid 130ies... and Daniel said it looks like a resting heart rate because on all other previous scans where he's been a jumping jelly bean, his heart rate fluctuated between 145-160 and settling down to 140something when the show was over. So he came to the conclusion that 130bpm was sleeping. Daniel went down the hall, and got me ice water (in the mean time, the res OB was telling us all the reasons why babies don't move as much... mom not eating, taking sedatives, mom is not paying attention, sleep patterns, etc. I nicely, but not so nicely said, "not helping. Thanks".)

 

The OB said she'd stay on him until we started to see some movement because all we were staring at now was a flickering little heart. After about 7 min... his whole body started to move. I don't know how to explain it... but it was like his silhouette started crawling with bugs. I asked if they were practice breathes.. and she said no.. it was just his "body waking up". She moved the wand over to this face/hands. And he was just floating there. Daniel said, "he's never done this... or... we've never seen him like this". Res OB - "he's just sleeping".  For 3 fucking hours? Quite the nap on the inside! We waited another 10 minutes, and his body kept showing signs of waking up... but no turning, or moving... just those weird squishy things moving around his body. (His circulation picking up? I really don't know.  My OB would have been able to tell me what the hell we were looking at, but this NKOTB had no clue). 

 

The OB would get excited (again, best attempt at her accent), "look see, this is very very reassuring to me.. as I am not moving the wand, and you can clearly see there is movement. Very very reassuring.". Daniel kinda cut her up a bit... "see, this is the first time you are scanning him, so you can feel reassured... but trust me, we've seen him on all different kinds of ultrasounds at all different times during the day, and THIS isn't reassuring. And us telling you that should somehow allow you to re asses your judgement". And I don't know if it was Daniel's stern voice, or if it was just coincidence... but the kid moved. He shifted. And the OB was all, "Now, you see! you must have seen that!" I said, "I don't need to see it, I felt it." She said, "yes yes, as I said.. he is waking up".

 

She wrapped up the U/S machine, and I saw in her notes that she assessed the mini BPP as an 8/8. She didn't write that he was a lazy baby for the first 15 min of the scan... w/e. I got the feeling that she just wanted everything to be ok... so she made it sound so in her notes.

 

We waited for them to send the report off to the REAL OB who was on call that night... and then gave us the go ahead to go home. I went home feeling him wake up more... lots of tone, and pressure and jabs in the car. By the time we got ourselves back into bed, he was an active gem once again, and I could fall asleep easily.

 

It's all we could do, right? It's all they could do too. Run an NST, check his heart, make sure he moves to their satisfaction (6-10 movements per hour or 2). And go home. And such was our Night of April 16th.

 

The night after that was hard too. We didn't go back to triage.. but it was a very awake night for me. This kid is definitely running out of room, and is moving less at night.

 

For weeks now, I'd get up to go pee... 3-5 times a night, and every trip to the the bathroom, I'd feel him move... either while peeing, or while getting settled back into bed. Some nights it'd be a lot, and I would wonder if he was moving a lot before I woke, and maybe he was the very reason I woke up. And other nights, it'd be little plunks and kicks as I drifted back to sleep. But this past week (week of Apr 15), ever since hitting 36 weeks last week... it's been hell at night. I lay and wait... sometimes drift off forgetting that my baby died last year and no movements were an indication of his demise. And I'd wake back up, and turn back and forth in bed until I felt something I was SURE was his tone, and activity, and not my probing. Last night, I woke at 12AM, went pee... and he gave me a turn or two. I woke again, at 2... and went pee... and as I laid back down, I couldn't remember if I felt him move while sitting on the toilet, or if that was the 12AM trip. I felt disoriented. So I woke fully, and waited. My mind wandered, and I thought about Alexander not moving the night he died.. and how leading up to his death there were so many opportunities to get him out... and then my mind went right back to the present. NOW. This baby. MOVE! And it was around 3AM I woke Daniel because I told him I couldn't get a reassuring response. I told him to talk to my belly. I needed his stern voice to wake this baby again. Half asleep... he got up, and said he'd get me ice water. I didn't want to go all the way downstairs... make noise... get myself all awake... and in turn, wake the cats, and then have them keep me up thereafter. But Daniel didn't care. I drake the ice water down... and sat up in bed, and Daniel hugged against my belly, had a little conversation with the baby - told me to stop talking, lol, because he couldn't feel him right! - and we waited. I told Daniel that this baby was so different from Alexander. When I used to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night in the later part of the third trimester last year... I'd HOPE NOT to wake the baby up! Because as soon he'd be up.. he'd kick so hard, and move so much that I couldn't fall back asleep. I used to "rock" my belly after 10 or 15 minutes of constant movement to try to settle him down, and have him fall back into a sleep... so I could sleep. And this routine went on for weeks leading up to my due date! Now, with this kid... he's turning into such a bum. He's acting typical and showing signs of normal fetal behaviour and slowing down his movements I guess due to lack of space. He's still a crazy mover during the day (like right now, typing. There's some sort of babynastics happening on the inside), but he's not active as he once was during the wee hours of the night.

 

After I drank the water, and Daniel talked a bit... this baby started moving. I let out a sigh of relief... I told Daniel I didn't think he was dead or dying as I had the night before.. but I just cant deal with a still belly. I cant fall asleep and know that things will be normal tomorrow. All I need to do is get some rest, and it will all be ok. Nu-uh, there are none of those fairy tale thoughts running through my head this time around.

 

I laid back down, and he was all over the place, and was probably thinking "what the fuck will it take to get a good night's rest in here!" but sorry kiddo... I'm gonna bug the shit out of you until you're out.

 

 

I can happily say that this baby has ramped up his activity again in the wee hours of the night and omg please don't stop now because I will lose my mind if I have do have another night of the 16th.  We had a scan on Friday the 19th, and he was once again a super star, perfect baby.

 

36w6d April 17, 2013

 

This weekend was stressful... I worked on Saturday (MY LAST DAY!) and was on my feet for about 7 hours... busy busy busy... and I don't know if it shocked this baby out of his lazy bum habits, but it feels like he has been racing around in my belly on all four cylinders every since.   

 

I finally caved this weekend, and unpacked all the baby stuff we've been reluctantly... halfheartedly ... heavyheartedly carefully purchasing for the past 2-3 weeks.  We ran a wash last night that included crib sheets and new clothes.  So, I almost feel like there's no going back.  Not that I WANT to go back... but I wasn't ready to remove tags, and throw away packaging... and have all this money be a FINAL SALE when there just wasn't a baby here to properly spend it on.  Don't get me wrong.. I'd buy the world if it meant that I'd have a baby at home to use it on.  But we made a few big purchases about a month back.  Crib and car seat mainly.  And we opened, assembled and installed them knowing that win, lose or draw, we owned those items officially.  We borrowed a lot of things last year when expecting Alexander... and in turn, returned all of them to their original owners when he died.  I couldn't do that again this year.  NO WAY.  I didn't want anyone involved in preparing for this baby as I just couldn't bear the thought to have to undo my house again with anyone in mind. 

 

But we finally tackled the small things.  I was 100% ready to scramble after this baby made it home, and wash it all, and attempt to organize.  But Daniel convinced me over the weekend that we are so damn close... so who cares.  Who cares about returning a few $20 crib sheets.  If this baby dies too ... then whatever.  We'll figure it out on our own... and sheets and onsies in a refundable state are the last of our worries. 

 

(The Crib Mattress is still in it's bags - in returnable condition - in the den downstairs.  We'll see if we prepare the final touches before our induction date). 

 

I am 37 weeks and 4 days today.  I was told I would be induced before or on 38 weeks.  With my doctor out of town... I've been playing the waiting game for a final date.  It hasn't felt good.  Hence the stress this weekend. 

 

EVERYONE IS ASKING "when are you due... or being induced.. or are they the same thing?  When's the baby coming?!".  I wanted to answer:  I DON'T KNOW.  I ALSO DON'T KNOW IF HE WILL BE BORN ALIVE. 

 

I really hope so.

 

I really hope he will be. 

 

And remains so.

 

For as long as I live. 

 

 

Long Overdue

I will be the first to admit that I have been THE WORST in keeping in touch these days.  Online, and otherwise... I just procrastinate/sit on my ass, and let the days pass.  And I'm so sorry.  Today I was reading back on some of the entries I posted at the beginning of the year, and all of the loving comments... and I felt so indebted.  You people really freaking care!  And here I am keeping everyone at bay, and in the dark about what the hell is going on here as of late. 

I'm almost officially done with work.  I'm on vacation for the next week before I start my maternity leave.  I told myself at the end of March, knowing I would be off for a few days in April before baby arrived...that I was going to crack down, and blog EVERY.SINGLE.DAY until I got myself caught up about life and all the feelings I've been having - and I've been off for 4 full days so far... and nuthin!

So here I am.  Playing catch up.  Blog world catch up.  I'll never catch up in life ... that ship sailed whooshed by me when my baby died.  Anyway!

This Pregnancy: Status and Updates

Things have gotten better regarding fluid levels since my last post.  If I have any luck left, I got lucky in the fact that the fluid seemed to regulate itself throughout my third trimester. 

I went in for that "unscheduled scan" when I was 33 weeks along, and my doctor (Dr. W) did the scan herself.  She sat with Daniel and me and told us that she wouldn't sugar coat anything.  If something is wrong, she will tell us IT IS WRONG.  She will not bullshit us in believing that things will "probably" turn out okay.  I sat in a chair, across from her with the bed I would soon be scanned on between us, and I was getting a little anxious.  But relaxed.  Weird.  But I was just so thankful I would get the real deal from her... even if it was shit news, I'd get it because of proper analysis.  She assured me she didn't think anything was wrong as the anatomy scan at 20 weeks showed no signs of a clef lip, or any malfunctioning organs.  But she was going to run the entire anatomy again...heart, lungs, diaphragm, liver, kidneys... and all the valves, pipes, and thingamajigs connected to each one to make sure all systems are clear.

And they were.  This baby scanned perfectly healthy.  He's a big kid, and was measuring in the 80th percentile...but other than the possibility of him growing up to be a giant in life, he's fine.

And... my fluids measured much lower.  And, he was head down again.  My doctor told me that fluid levels can sometimes be subjective, and depending on the baby's position, they can measure REALLY high because of the empty space a breech baby can create.  With him being head down (and putting on some serious poundage in just a weeks time) he was occupying space in such a manner that gave my fluid levels a read of 20cm.  As baby moved from side to side during the 40 minute scan she performed... she measured the fluid four different times... and it gave a different reading between 17 - 22 cm each time. 

My doctor was VERY apologetic that I received "the sum of all errors" (as she put it) in how my appointment unfolded the week prior.  Getting scanned by a very quiet technician + following up with a very intense doctor who analysed the scan + seeing Dr. C afterwards who was all too casual about the questionable results + NOT HAVING THE VOICE OF MEDICAL REASON COMING FROM MY DOCTOR WHO I LOVE + having a stillbirth after a perfectly normal pregnancy last year = a very stressful walk through to week 33.

And after all the stress of my week 32 appointment with the sum of all errors faced in the office... that following weekend, I took a few pix of the massive belly.  Full of fluid yes, but also with a very wanted baby... and I thought even if I lose this kid too, I'm going to want some memories of this pregnancy documented. 

 32w3d March 17, 2013

I don't dare show a front facing view - it will shock and concern you!

I am now 36 weeks and 4 days pregnant.  My doctor took over all the scanning and monitoring after that 33 week appointment.  She told me she wanted to be the one taking the look on the inside, and producing the reports for the weekly BPP preformed.  I was so relieved.  Consistency.  I like it. 
 

At week 34, and 35, she did some kick ass scanning I must say.  She talked us through every reading, and every result, and every single thing that is required for the report and score card.  And so far, this baby has received perfect results at every scan.  (And as of week 33, he's been head down during each scan including the times we went in to get assessed because we were scared he was dying because he didn't kick back hard enough - or at all!, so good news on that front too.  But I don't dare ASSUME anything with him staying that way.  He's such a crazy mover and shaker... as if he's beating on a drum with his feet... a little clown laying down, wanting to run in circles... I feel he could easily flip back up at any time).
 

It scares me a little.  Because perfect doesn't really mean anything at this point.  He's still in utero, and he's still gestating... so there's just as much of a risk of him dying, and there's just as much uncertainty of his existence on the outside as there was before all these tests, and scans.
 

I'm trying to take it one day at a time.  One kick at a time.
 

It's probably not his fault that he moves and kicks to wildly.  I do poke at him all the time...  He's either really pissed off, or really playful. 
 

At my 35 week appointment (after waiting over 3 hours to see my doctor), she dumped some pretty disappointing news on me.  She was going to be out of town for 2 weeks, and wont see me until after the 22nd of April.  We were just chit chatting after my scan, and she was letting me know that for my following appointment I'd have to go across the hall for my scan, and get a follow up with the low risk OB who would be covering her patients as she was out of town.  "Where, I'll come, I'll follow you, I'll be there, name the time and place".  And then AFTER THAT WEEK, I'll be seeing her partner who will do the scan... "and then after that"....  she trailed off.  "And after that, I'll be 38 weeks.." I finished her foggy, inconclusive thought.  "oh!  you'll be 38 weeks!  So, we'll have to schedule an induction!  So, here's what.  I'll call you on April 22nd, and we'll take it from there".  I saw her receptionist gesture to her computer screen, and showed her her schedule for when she's back, and I saw her mouth "full" to the doctor.  My doctor looked back to me, and said, "I'll call you April 22nd, and we'll figure it out". 
 

I left a little shocked, and deflated.  Everything had gone so great (after 3 hours of waiting to see her.  Did I say that already?!  It's ok.  Stuff comes up.  No big deal.  It's just time and patience.  No one died - I hope).  And she lays this on me.  I'm not going to see her anymore.  I'm pretty much DONE with her as my OB... and the next time we'll be face to face is when I'm pushing this kid out of my body.  I had a scan on Friday in the ultrasound clinic portion of the office by a run of the mill technician, and was then followed up by some chipper, peppy, way too certain about the survival of babies OB thereafter.  And this Friday, I'm being scanned and seen by Dr. C who I'm convinced accidentally landed a job on the high risk side of obstetrics because she's so out to lunch in the majority of conversations I've had with her.  And then next week... well next week... next week I'll be closing in on 38 weeks, and we'll see if this big/little munchkin makes it out alive and in one piece!
 

At Friday's scan - 36 weeks - he weighed in at 7.2 lbs and 37.5 weeks gestation.  I know these growth measurements are somewhat of an estimate... but holy cow, why is he growing so fast?  I'm grateful he is.. because he's getting yanked out against his will if he doesn't pop out sooner.  But my goodness... he's so ahead of himself, and I always pictured him to be the "little" brother.
 

I can see his face during the scans.  Even though it isn't a 3D ultrasound, I can still very much see his features.  His nose, his eyes, and lips.  And my god, he looks like his brother.  Which will lead into the next portion of this post...
 

My Feelings
 

As I get closer and closer, and the possibility of (maybe, just maybe) us landing a living baby in the next few weeks becomes more and more of a reality... I cant help but want Alexander more.  I just still want my son.  In every way I did when I first lost him, I still want him that much.  I've had quiet meltdowns, and Daniel and I have had some pretty over the edge blow-ups (at each other, and at life's circumstances that come along with pregnancy and preparing for a baby), and they're all because of how much we miss him.  All because of how much we just want to go back to February 2012, and somehow get our son back.
 

I'm not afraid that I wont love my next born child - I know I will.  I already do.  A lot.
 

I'm still afraid to live my life with out my son.  I just so don't want to do it.  And having no choice in this fact is really hard.  Especially in knowing that all the majority of friends and family are expecting us to be worlds and worlds better off now/soon since we'll have what we seemingly lost.  And I just don't have it in me to set everyone straight. 
 

I am still heartbroken that one can make it and the other cannot.  I stayed working as long as possible in hopes to avoid too much alone time with myself and have that very clear notion be the only thing on my mind.  I've cried so much over these past 4 days.  Maybe because I actually have had the time to sit and cry, or maybe it's because I've allowed myself to let go of tasks and responsibilities that usually fill my head regarding work, and I'm left with what I've had to quiet down for months and months now.  I'm just still so sad about it all. 
 

As we near this next arrival date, I get sad about things that were said and done after Alexander died that I was too exhausted and crippled with grief to address.  And now, my vulnerability is ramped back up... I want to confront all the things that were said that made me so sad after my son died.. all the misguided conversation coming from oblivious friends and family who thought they had a clue... all the well meaning phrases that came from people who were in disbelief of our reality that they literally had to justify it to make themselves feel better... And I want to go back and address it all.  I want to stand up for myself now and say,
 

"What you said was NOT OK, and I'm still upset."  "All you think you know is wrong, and you don't get it, you don't understand, and you COULDN'T IMAGINE what I'm feeling.  And it hurts like hell that you could be so stupid and tell me otherwise." 
 

But I probably wont.  I don't want any negativity surrounding me for the next little while.  So I better not go seeking it out.  And the majority will probably think I'm having a hard time adjusting to life with a new baby, but in truth - baby or no baby - I just don't want to be around anyone that doesn't understand and thinks they do.  And needless to say, there aren't many people left to have over for company after you weed those out. 
 

There is one big offender in my family that has time and again proved to be oblivious.  This person has tried to show acts of understanding and kindness, but unfortunately the insensitivity and oblivion took the cake.  Our feelings, and the massive impact that has hit our lives is said to be something that is on this persons radar.  And instance after instance, I've tried to be civil, and understanding that some people just don't know how to manage their actions around people who have suffered a loss.  But I reached a breaking point, and held on to my sanity instead of allowing the relationship to continue to propel me into frustrated states of sadness and disappointment. 
 

And I've often thought I am being small minded, and petty in shutting down the relationship so abruptly, and with so much finality.  But I cant give anyone what they think they already have.  This person thinks they have been one of the supportive people... one of the people who paid tribute to our son, and says that the things that were said and the lack of judgement in conversations were minor missteps. 
 

My tolerance has gone down.  Enough is Enough.  And I'm afraid that I'll take this route with other people in the future ... and I'll never know anyone that knows the true grit of grief, and I'll never know anyone that knows how not to be such a piece of shit when it comes to the things they say.
 

And I'm private and vague, and say "this person" and "the things they've said" rather than being brutally blunt.  But I don't know if any of my family members have found my blog.  If they have, they haven't told me.  But I don't want to use this platform to wage any wars with anyone.  It's a place for me to spill my guts, and to know that there are others in the same boat.
 

This Pregnancy:  The Complaints
 

I'm tired y'all.  I'm tired of it all, and I'm tired because of it all.  If I don't get a living child out of these past 18 9 months of pregnancy... you can count on the fact that I will most definitely fall off the face of the earth. 
 

This belly is a massive, sagging, hard mound of discomfort.  I didn't feel even a small percent of this pain and unpleasantness while I was pregnant with Alexander.  The top half of my belly literally feels like it's being ripped apart.  It hurts to the touch.  Gravity has been a bitch to my body, and the thin layer of muscle once known as my abdominals are torn.  I can feel it.  It's a ripping/burning feeling throughout the day.  The bottom half of my belly sags.  I can cup my hand/arm under my belly and lift it a good 2-3 inches from it's resting place.  And that lifted position was what my first pregnancy naturally sat at.  I look back and think, "Why did I get pregnant again so soon???  It's too much.  I'm not built for this.  I should have done more crunches, and toned, and strengthened my pelvic floor before embarking on these next 9 months..."  But I very well know I had no choice.  My life was blown to smithereens with Alexander's stillbirth, and dammit I needed to be pregnant again ASAP.  It seemed to be the only chance for survival.  But my belly will never be the same.  I have doubts of ever being able to sit up on my own ever again. 
 

My stomach, ass and boobs.  They're all shot to hell.  I don't know if I had any of those features going for me prior to pregnancy(ies!), but I definitely don't have them going for me know.  What they don't tell you about labour is that you lose your ass.  It gets stretched open, and the muscles just fall flat like two pancakes.  And yeah, butt and leg lifts weren't my priority in the 6 months before becoming pregnant and after losing Alexander.  I just ran on my treadmill, and shed off the pregnancy el be's as fast as I could.  I knew I'd be going right back to that 40 week pregnancy weight A LOT sooner than I ever originally thought... and I didn't want to piggy back any extra pounds to lose after baby #2. 
 

And I did lose it all.  Plus an extra 10 pounds.  But I also had a flat ass, flabby stomach, and lost all shape/firmness in my boobs. 
 

I've now almost surpassed my 41 week pregnant weight and I'm only 36 weeks.  And those extra 10 lbs I lost in between pregnancies easily found it's way back on the scale with all this fluid and a massive baby.  I'm really trying to focus on the big picture, and the main goal here.... LIVE birth with LIVING BABY... but I'm super bummed about what pregnancy has done to my once average body. 
 

I'm afraid that after another birth, I'm going to be left with urinary incontinence.  I always (ALWAYS!) feel like I have to pee these days.  It's a sharp and painful feeling to ever hold it in.  Some nights, I'm up on the hour, every hour because I had a glass or two of water right before bed.  But... when I make my way to the WC, sit down and trickle a little bit out... and then... I will just sit there with what feels like a full bladder!  I lean, and tilt my weight around while on the can... and somehow access that once very unconscious response to a full bladder and GO PEE.  But now its like I have to let something down... or access a muscle that I cant fully feel as well as I used to.  And then, on the other side of things... when I sneeze or cough really hard... well, you know what happens!   And this is after one kid!  And I'm not even 30! I tried to and tried to lift my pelvic floor in those 6 months between pregnancies... but I don't think I did enough work. 
 

And it's all just not fair.  I remember how I looked and how the weight came off after delivering Alexander... and I was so surprised... and horribly heartbroken at the same time.  In just a months time, I was only 15 pounds away from my pre pregnancy weight.  My body shrunk up with little to no effort.  And as soon as I started walking on my treadmill... I got down to my starting weight in another month... I looked EXACTLY the same as I had before pregnancy not 8 weeks after losing/birthing my son.  I felt so ripped off.  Everyone told me how great I looked... but dammit, where the hell was my kid?  Yeah, so what, I lost all the weight and got my shape back in a matter of months... but last time I checked, no one gets pregnant, makes it to term to then be thrilled about having the weight all come off.  You're supposed to get a baby at the end!  Not just your body back!!
 

We went to B.C for a few weeks when I was 3 months postpartum to try to "reset" our look on life, and get pregnant again... and while there, we walked, and hiked, and I lost more weight.  Daniel's sisters told me I looked better than when they first met me.  I couldn't help but look at myself - seeing that I was in fact looking in better shape than before I got pregnant - and get utterly depressed.  I have to do this all over again to maybe get a baby??  How can I be happy about my appearance when I know I have to do this all over again.. blow up all over again... gain it all back, stretch it all out... all over again to maybe get a living baby??  I always ALWAYS wanted to be a young, fit, bouncy new mom (just like my mom was).  And there I was, the young, fit and new mom part part accomplished... but no baby to give me my bounce. 
 

And just like no one knew I had a son when I was x months postpartum and looking like the same old me last year ... no one will know I have 2 sons when I'm x months postpartum (looking like god knows what) this year. 
 

And it's all just so wrong I want to scribble it all out, crumple the page... and go back to the beginning. 
 

What I've Been Wanting To Say For A While Now:
 

Thank you to all you ladies out there who have read, listened, and shared.  I feel like I've neglected this space here online... but I still follow everyone.  I still read everyone's blogs (even if I don't post in the comments as much as I used to).  I read it all, and it helps me so much.  The simple posts about pets, and housekeeping... and the deep, emotional posts about the babies you've lost, and the children that will never again be alive in our lives.  I read it all... and it brings me through to the next day.  I honestly don't have anyone in real life that I can connect with as I do with all of you.  I cry about that fact sometimes, because I do feel incredibly lonely.  Not to sound dramatic... but you are really all I have when it comes to this ever changing journey that is losing a child.  All of your blogs, your emails, your comments... they have helped me more than you'll ever know.  But you do know... but regardless, I have to say thank you for being here... there... and everywhere you are. 

Another scan...

With not so great results.

I'm up at 3am, can't sleep and am a nervous crying mess.  I'm going back next week for another, "otherwise unscheduled" scan.  Because of one thing.

My fluid levels increased severely over the past 4 weeks.  I'm now measuring at 30+ cm at 32 weeks, when 25 cm is considered the ceiling to "the higher end of normal".  I was 23.5cm at 28 weeks.  I knew something was up...but no one wanted to let me "go there" with the possibility that this could be an early sign of something being wrong.

I had a freak out after my last appointment with my OB at 30 weeks with that student by her side.  The next day at work, I felt like I didn't feel baby enough.  I felt tons of activity in the morning while laying in bed...but then an all too quiet baby while at work.  I took myself into triage.  They ran a strip, and did an ultrasound.  Baby was head down!  Flipped.  Yay!  That's why I couldn't feel baby as active during the day.  Just taking some down time after it's little adventure.  I went home feeling kicks and rolls in all the right places.  (I wrote a blog post about it all...never got around to finishing it, and/or posting it.  Boo for me.). A few days later, after stupidly spreading the news that baby is now head down...I was sure I felt another flip.  And all last week I couldn't tell what was what.

The ultrasound yesterday showed baby is breech.  Again.  Still?  Whatever.

They said this is why baby is still breech.  There's too much fluid to swim around in, and the excessive size of my uterus isn't encouraging a permanent lifestyle change.  The baby is now measuring at 4.4lbs, and I'm terrified that I'll have a malformed baby with defects in its skeletal structure.  The ultrasound showed it's bum right up against my cervix, legs curled up against my left side with kicks against my lower left half.  The back and spine seen arched along my right side... and head tucked under my right ribs.  Curled up like a giant "C" in there.  I guess when he turned down earlier this month, he easily bobbed back up as there's nothing keeping him restricted in one place. 

Of course I read on a million reasons why fluids can be high, and digestive system defects pop off the pages.  Fluid is building because of a possible blockage in the digestive tract.  Or maybe baby isn't able to take in any fluid at all, and is just continuously peeing with out cycling it.  I read about such things when I was 28 weeks, and measuring at the higher end of normal at 23.5 cm.  No one wanted to validate my concerns that maybe, just maybe, they shouldn't be so high.  When the ultrasound doctor told me that they had increased to a level that was now "questionable", I was so frustrated.  I knew it.  Fuck.  And a month has now gone by, and this baby has been bobbing around in what only seems to be increasing fluid levels.  And now, they want to do another scan to see if they can determine a cause.  Maybe baby isn't swallowing. 

I knew it.  I've felt it.

It's true...this baby does not hiccup.  Alexander got the hiccups all-the-time in the third trimester.  He was so perfectly perfect it breaks my heart. 

I tried to comfort myself in the early weeks of my third trimester in that the reason I couldn't feel hiccups was because of the babe's position.  But no - I cant feel them because they're not happening.  This babe hasn't swallowed an ounce for his own good health this entire time.

Yeah, it's a he.  I'm having another boy.  Might as well get it all out in the open now as I'm seriously doubting the overall health, and/or chances of living that he'll have.  My desires to keep it a surprise until the end are fading as it'll be pretty anticlimactic if his gender reveal is over casted by his death. 

And I cant help it.  I don't believe he'll live.  I don't believe that he'll be ok.  It's all happening.  It's all showing it's ugly dead baby truth.  If one can die, while perfectly healthy,... then they'll all die. In me.  Only in me.  Everyone else will have complicaitons leading to beautiful, healthy living children.  But not me. 

One of the worst parts of today (yesterday now) is that my doctor was on vacation.  It's "March Break" here where I am, and she took the week off.  She's got kids... they're out of school this week... so it's natural for parents to take this week off too. 

I had to see her substitute - or "partner" as she calls it.  But they are not equal in their practices.  Dr. C is knowledgeable and all, but couldn't hold a candle to Dr. W.  Dr. C was half there, half not there in all the questions I was asking.  Daniel got comfort from her answers, but I could tell she was giving text book "worst case scenario" and "safe" answers as any OB would.  She talked about draining the fluid with a needle through my belly (!!!), suggesting I take myself into triage if I feel shot of breath or if my contractions turn painful (no shit).  But she hasn't been with us, side by side, in this pregnancy as Dr. W has.  I kept pushing to see my doctor next week asap for another scan as the doctor who did the follow up after the scan told me that was the next step.  And Dr. C kept saying... "sure, and I'm here next week too...so whatever works out with scheduling".  I thought, you're here now too! and not doing much for me!  get a clue!

Another stress.  The receptionist (who I love) is on vacation next week, and some girl down the hall is handling all of Dr. W's appointments next week.  So when I went to see her to book another appointment with Dr. W, she told me not to worry.  Told me Dr. C would fill in Dr. W first thing Monday, and Ashley would give me a call to tell me when my scan would be.  Ashley?  Who the fuck is Ashley, and what the fuck does she know about how important it is to make sure I get in again next week? 

Fuck.  This sucks. 

And I cant feel him as much as I used to.  There's a ton of fluid separating his jabs and pokes from the exterior of my belly... so it's like feeling someone giving you a high five while holding a water balloon.  Very wobbly and jiggly. 

I feel like I'm a ticking time bomb.  No.  A balloon really.  About to burst.  I'm a huge indoor pool with it's lid on... ready to down my child. 

And this baby is...

I'll get to that in a minute. 

I had a scan 2 weeks ago to check in on everything, and this baby is measuring a week ahead.  It's in the 80th percentile.  At 28 weeks, babe was measuring at 28+6, and weighing in at almost 3lbs.  My fluid levels are "subjectively increased" with an AFI of 23.5 cm (and 25 cm is what is considered abnormally high).  The over all opinion given on the report was "Active and well grown fetus", and this little shrimp passed the BPP with an 8/8 in the first minute. 

 

But here's the kicker...

 

This baby is breech.

 

Not a big deal, as I was told by every technician, and doctor that saw me that day... "It's early.  Babies usually turn.  1 in 4 are breech at 28 weeks, and only 3% are breech at term.  Everything should be fine".  I knew something was up though. I felt jabs, and pokes in all the wrong places and movement, and kicks felt NOTHING like Alexander's.  And when they told me the babe's head was under my right ribcage, it made total sense. I've been feeling lots of thumping on my cervix (or err, bottom exit area?) and had a heavy suspicion they were coming from feet... not hands and elbows.

 

I know baby has time to move, and find it's way head down... but I checked back in my pregnancy records while pregnant with Alexander, and he was recorded as head down at 30 weeks, and stayed that way for all follow up appointments thereafter.

 

 

Well, today was another appointment for baby #2. 

 

I'm 30+1 weeks along, and I was anxious to talk to my doctor more in depth about the scan rather than the quick recap I was given at my last appointment.  I had a really bad cold last week, and was coughing up a storm... and I swear I felt the familiar feelings of little hands in my lower half.  I thought all the abdominal contractions the coughing and blowing of my nose brought along might have helped this babe turn.  However, I have felt a lot of pressure under my ribs, and some nights, even saw a huge hard mound push out, and thought "dammit, that's a head if I've ever seen one...". 

 

There was a resident doctor starting off with patients today... and I heard him in the room next to me getting all chatty with another couple.  My doctor told me that I'd be spared the resident rounds, so I was pretty confident that I'd only be seeing my doctor today.  Plus, the receptionist would have let me know Dr. W was with students ... ya know.. a bit of a heads up. 

 

Daniel and I talked a bit while eavesdropping on the couple next door.  Poor guy, we thought, he doesn't know a thing about a damn thing yet... yeesh.  

 

 A light knock on the door..and Doogie Hower walks in, so happy to be doing his job.  Dammit. 

 

I wasn't emotionally prepared for this.  I didn't want to have to tell yet another person about "my history", and get another taken aback response.  This past week has been hard... Alexander's birthday wasn't easy, and getting through the week almost felt harder than the day itself.  I felt myself becoming very emotional on my way to the appointment, and was actually afraid that I was going to cry when I got to the clinic.  I was just so tender.  Everything was on the surface.  Why is this baby not head down dammit?!? And why did my baby have to die just so I could do this all over again and have it be so-damn-hard?

 

He asked the typical starter questions... any bleeding?  No.  Vomiting?  No.  Leaking fluid?  No.  So this is your... *flips through pages* ... second baby? Yes. 

 

I could feel how uncomfortable we were making him feel.  He was on top of the world next door with Mr and Mrs perfectly pregnant... and now he's with the ice queen and her silent straight faced man.  He was probably thinking... what the hell am I doing wrong??  Why aren't they talking about the weather, or how fat she feels, or what the hell it's like to be pregnant??

 

He continued to flip through my file... and I could see the white pages at the back (Alexander's autopsy report) but he only went through the pink and yellow pages at the front.  He asked me if I knew I was GPS positive.  Yes, I did.  But he continued to tell me about the procedures of going into labour and getting antibiotics... Yes, once again, I know. 

 

He told me it was time for me to hop up on the table and check my blood pressure and baby's heart rate. 

 

After my blood pressure, he asked how old our first was. 

 

I said it fast, abruptly, and almost out of body.  He died at birth. 

 

I just couldn't cry in front of this student.  He wasn't even supposed to be seeing me.  He had NO IDEA that he was going to get this on his plate today.  And I just couldn't break down.  I didn't want to be a mess.  I didn't want to become a spectacle. 

 

And on top of that...I was proceeding to lay down.  I didn't want to cry while laying there.  I dunno...I just felt every guard go up, and I was holding back the urge to scream at him to get out and give me my space!  He did apologize, said "I'm so sorry".  But then asked, "Why are you in the low risk section of Dr. W's clinic?"  I felt my face get red, and I was now laying on the table, and he was leaning almost over me... I ummed, and ahh'ed, hearing my voice shake as I told him that things were so far so good in this pregnancy - just as they were with my first - so I'm in the best hands, and her high risk clinic mostly deals with premature labour candidates, and women who have trouble staying pregnant in the 2nd trimester.  So... here I am.  Pregnant... "low risk" as it gets when it comes to her high risk comparisons, I guess. 

 

 

He measured my uterus.. and said I was measuring at 31 weeks.  I told him about the scan, and that the baby was measuring big, and that the baby was also breech... ish.  He said it was "the time" during pregnancy that is common to check for baby's position, so he was going to see if he could pin point exactly where babe was.  He told me he couldn't seem to be able to locate the head.   I told him (once again!) that the scan 2 weeks prior showed the baby as breech, and I felt as if the babe was now more on the transverse angle of things as kicks and babe's bottom were more on the lower left quadrant.   He gently rubbed and pressed on my belly trying to see if he could tell me exactly where baby was... but he was already letting his nerves get to him.   He said he wanted to know exactly where the baby was so he could locate the body to get the heart rate.  He kept noting that the baby was "kicking" him when he was touching right under my right ribs.  I told him that he was probably feeling elbow's and hands... as that hard mound was most likely the head. 

 

*touch*touch*press*press* "oh, ohpphh! would you look at that!  you have a really active baby!  I can really feel it!" 

 

Yes surrey, that is indeed a baby in there, moving, punching, poking... still alive...get over it, and give me the freaking heart rate! 

 

Well... sheesh... he moved the little wand around for 5 minutes, and couldn't find anything but static.  I tried to direct him.. but he kept going up to the top of my uterus... under my breast bone, and picked up my heartbeat a few times.  Then, the placentas (according to him!  "that's your placenta" ... wwookkaaay.)  But my lack of patience was getting to me.  And the mad, aggravated, ragey side of me wasn't coming to the surface - but the sad, exhausted, get me the hell out of here or I'm going to start crying soon, I can't do this anymore side was.  I wasn't nervous that baby might be dead... as I felt kicking and squirming the entire time... but I was getting anxious.  Why wasn't the heartbeat pounding so healthily that the Doppler couldn't pick it up?

 

 

He did end up getting it... as he went down to the lower right side of my uterus (where I told him to go FIRST off!... but decided to search up near the top!) and he got a reading.   He told me it was 130bpm.  I was spent.  130?  He went on to explain that 130 was healthy... but I told him I don't care all that much about what's what these days... I want consistency.  Last time it was 145-150.  WHAT-THE-FUCK dude??  My doctor came in seconds later, and the look on her face was priceless.  I could tell she meant to tell him to skip this room, because holy shit, not just anyone wearing a name tag has the right to talk to us about the health and well being of this baby these days. 

 

I sat up, and started to wipe off the gel with my bare hands... I was frazzled...and told her that it took him forever to find the heartbeat.   She said she knew as she was next door with another patient, and could hear the static through the walls.  I assured her we got it...but still!  The resident asked me to lay back down so my doctor could check to make sure the position of the baby was what he thought... which he called "vertex".   I laid down and made eye contact with my doctor, and nearly lost it.  I just wanted this young kid out of the room so I could talk to her about everything that's been on my mind since the scan.   I laid down, and she touched lightly, and placed the Doppler on me and found a healthy 150bpm in a matter of seconds.   The student joked, "the babies always know when the boss is around!"  She took her index finger and thumb, and squeezed right above my pubic bone... "nope, nothing engaged".  She gently smiled at me, and I nodded back as if to tell her I already knew.  I know the baby is still breech. 

 

My doctor sent him out of the room, and I lost it.  LOST it.  And she knew I would.  She had Kleenex in hand, and was apologizing over and over.  She told me she knows I don't need that right now, and struggling through someone else's inexperience just isn't what I need to be enduring.

 

 

I cried for almost a minute straight.  I took my glasses off, and pressed tissue so hard into my eyes as the tears were pouring out.  I managed to choke out "I cant do this anymore".  And I didn't mean the pregnancy.  I haven't had any real scares (yet?  knocks wood).  This baby moves, and I'm not in that omg is this baby going to die any minute stage (yet? knocks wood).  I meant it in the sense that I cant face another innocent well meaning inexperienced person while pregnant.  I cant have another "doctor-like" person tell me the facts of what's good or bad, normal or statistically proven.  I just need to see her all the way to the end, and that's it. 

 

I did get to talk to her about the baby's position, and she talked about a new plan of action if the baby doesn't flip by 37 weeks.  And that's c-section (gulp).  I'm not a candidate for a version, and she's seen most versions fail anyhow.. and it's just not worth the risk or stress it could put on the baby.  That being said, she told me there's still lots of time for the baby to move.  She said it's 1-3% of babies that remain breech at term (those stats didn't make me feel better... I've been the less than 1% before in regards to something that NEVER HAPPENS these days.  Thank you stillbirth), so there's a good chance that the babe will turn.  And, she said it's usually first timers that stay breech because the uterus is tight, and restricts baby's movements.  And this being my second, babe should turn.  Should.  Hm, not the most comforting phrase.  Alexander should have lived.

 

But I know the health of the baby is the most important thing... but I was really hoping to have a vaginal birth.  For everyone's sake.  And, for the sake of my uterus for (hopefully) future pregnancies that turn into eventual living children.

 

I have another scan at 32 weeks... then at 34, 35, 36, and 37.  And these scans were all scheduled before any of this breech business was on the table.  But now, that's all I'll be thinking about.

February 27, 2012

It's here.  It's his day.

Yesterday was hard, the build up of a full year gone by without him.  I can no longer say, "last year, at this time, he was alive". 

A year ago today he was born, but already gone in the wee hours of the night. 

Last night, when I came home from work, Daniel I quietly sat on the couch and cried.  We watched the snow fall, and cried. 

The snow is still falling today. 

We have no plans to be anywhere, see anyone, or do anything.  We will be together and we will miss our son.  Like everyday...but today especially as we know this is the day that forever changed our lives.

I am honoured to say he is my son.  I feel privileged I was able to carry him for 9 months, and give birth to his beautiful body.  I wouldn't change a thing about him.  I just wish he could have lived.  I ache for him to be here.  Today.  Every day.

 

Today is his birthday.  It is so terribly hard to know this, and not have him here.

We are in love with him still.  Always and Forever.

Due Date

One year ago today was Alexander's due date. 

February 18, 2012.  Seems like the most perfect day to be born.  My due date was changed at one of my appointments in my third trimester.  I was due on Feb 21, 2012 based on my last month period, but my scan showed that I was actually due on Feb 18.  I don't know why, but I preferred the 18th.  Sooner is better than later.  Less waiting. 

I must have said "February 18th" to hundreds of people over Christmas of 2011.  I work closely with the general public... and as my belly grew, it invited countless questions surrounding the baby on the way and his arrival.  When are you due?  When are you expecting your baby?  When is your little one arriving?  "February eighteenth", I would say.  Can you freakin' believe it!?! I would think.

I didn't ever want a February baby.  I even thought it to be second or third best to the Fall or Spring baby I oh so wanted to have one day.  You know... the babies you get to have when the air is fresh, and the season is inviting...?  The one's where you can plan a birthday party outside and have kids from school attend with their parents...? 

But Alexander was an unexpected, very welcomed surprise... and I kind of coaxed myself into liking February as a birth month.  As it neared, I longed for February to hit me upside the head with my first born.  It was on it's way... May to January... it's gonna get here no matter what!  February, lemme have it!

Now, February makes me ache.  I love it so, as it belongs to him.  He is all things February, and February is all things him. 

February is now oh so wrong, so backwards, so hurtful.  It's almost like that February didn't actually ever come last year... It didn't bring along all it was built up to produce.  That February was a hoax, a trick!  What does February mean now?

But this February is so unlike February of 2012.  It is frigid outside, and winter is in full swing.  We have piles of snow shoveled in our driveway, and the sidewalks are icy and cold.  Last year, I would walk outside, 9 months pregnant, without a coat... and bring in the garbage bins.  I would leave the house in just a heavy sweater wrapped around my big belly.  The week before his birth, it was 2-6 degree's every day.  There wasn't a flake of snow.  It was an off February.  We were relieved as it meant our new born wouldn't be exposed to sub zero temperatures - even just for a second while transferring to the car - just days after he was born. 

This year, the -10 weather with wind chills of -17 will snap your skin off.  It is a very different February this year. 

February 18 was a Saturday last year.  It seemed a perfect day once again as the day of the week allowed my mother to be by my side, hassle free from rearranging her work schedule. 

Well, that day came and went.  And the following days were filled with excietement, anxiety, confusion... then a lot of eerie looming fear.  Unexplained, odd, "What next...? What now...?" as I continued to stay very pregnant.  I look back and shutter at all the chances we had to have him here.

This February 18 is a Monday.  "Family Day" here in Ontario.  A somewhat new stat holiday.  What an unpleasant jab to my emotional side.  Fucking Family Day.  Thanks.

I want him back.  I want him here.  I want this entire year that has passed to be so very different.  I still feel like I'm in a twilight zone as it all seems so impossible.

We have no plans for his birthday.  I feel extremely guilty.  Work has been horribly busy and challenging while being so damn pregnant so damn close to just being so damn pregnant.  I'm exhausted.

We were going to have pictures printed.  Nice (well, nice is a meh, ugh, word to use...) soft, presentable pictures printed.  Pictures where the hospital blankets and scale weren't so evident in the shot.  Pictures where his arms aren't in the forefront, crossed over his chest like an old man.  Pictures that showed his beautiful face, and amazingly full lips.  We were going to have them softened, and lightened... and give them to close family and friends. 

But we didn't.  I didn't.  It was all too much.  Too much pressure?  Too sad?  Too in your face?  I don't know.  But January slipped through my fingers, and my every day became so routine with work and sleep and appointments, and more work and sleep... I happily let it all pass me by in a haze.  And February came.. gently pressed on for about 2 weeks... and now I'm here, 9 days until his birthday and haven't a thing planned... or done... or ... or... anything.  The days are here.  His days are here.  And I feel like I'm in the exact same spot I left him.  Stunned and sad.  Lonely and missing.  Mad and selfish.  Miserable and aching.  In love and bursting with needs I cannot have fulfilled. 

Daniel and I will probably do something together.  We both booked the 27th off, and will be together.  Anything more than that... I don't know.  It all remains to be seen... and to be felt. 

Quiet

I know I've been quiet lately.

Everything is okay. 

Everything is so very wrong.

There is an army of emotions to sift through. 

But I've just been quiet lately.  In life, and online.  Really really quiet.

There has been lots of noise around me.  Work.  Family.  Birthdays.  Holidays.  A New Year.  New pregnancies.  New babies.  And I have been... quiet.

I want it all to go away.  I want it all to stop.  I want to go back to January 2012, and remember what it feels like to almost have him here.  I want to go back to February 2012 and get him out before it was too late.

I want it all to be different.

I don't want to get upset when other people tell me they're pregnant.

So, I just stay quiet.  This is a road I walk alone.  Keeping to myself, not interested in how your baby is growing (and how you already know your due date, and that your baby will be here for next Christmas, too).

I am in a Twilight Zone.  Everything going on around me is seen through a Twilight Zone fog.  It's not supposed to be this way.  Your first child isn't supposed to be born weeks or months after my second born...but what seems like my first...  No.  I had my first.  I'm supposed to have my first.  Here.  Almost a year old.  And I'm supposed to be watching your life unfold without a second thought.  Without a care in the world...

I am alone.  People say hurtful things, and they think they're being helpful. 

"Everything will be okay this time..."

"Leave it up to God, and this one will be okay.  This time will be okay..."

"Guess what?  I'm pregnant too!  At least you don't have to go through this alone..."

"So there will be two new babies for next Christmas... isn't that great?"

I remain quiet. 

It's all too much.

I couldn't get it all out if I tried.  Times like these, I'd like to be able to spit fire when I speak... so they know.  ... so they know I'm not okay with what is happening all around me.  And that no, I don't care what's happening in your life.  I just want my son back.  My first born.  My missing one.

He is not a pregnancy gone wrong.  He is not a tragedy that will soon be fixed, or healed, or better, or easier. 

He is my everything.  And no one around me understands how much I miss him.

He came into my life, and changed everything. 

 Sept 21, 2011 - Really starting to grow - 18w4d

 Sept 28, 2011 - Well, hello there little BOY - 19w4d

Nov 24, 2011 - Not too sure how in the world I got so lucky - 27w5d

 Dec 20, 2011 - Holding my 28th birthday present - 31w3d

 Dec 20, 2011 - Getting really comfortable in my new skin - 31w3d

 Jan 22, 2012 - Home stretch.  And stretch my belly did... - 36w1d

Jan 29, 2012 - A baby shower thrown for us with friends - 37w1d

Feb 4, 2012 - I thought this could be it.  Everyone told me I'd go early... so I captured a shot whenever I got a chance - 38w0d

 Feb 5, 2012 - ...but we made it to our second shower thrown by Daniel's mother - 38w1d

Feb 6, 2012 - Every day could have been "the day" he decided to come... so we waited - 38w2d

Feb 16, 2012 - ... and waited - 39w5d

Feb 19, 2012 - I was officially "over due".  Any day now, they told me, any day now... - 40w1d

***

I am now doing time.  Waiting ...?

Quietly...

Not just to get to the other side of this subsequent pregnancy ... 

23w3d

 Not just to meet this next child... 

 But forever.  I'm doing time.  Forever without him.