Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Letters to Livie

Bad things don't just happen to other people. They happen to us too. 2011 has done a fine job of making sure that I know this.

I have always had the intention of writing letters to Livie, so that she would have something should I not be around. It was an idea I got before she was even born, from some Lifetime movie where a little girl's mom died. But it has always been just a good intention. I have scribbled out notes here and there, but never to the extent that I intended.

When I was in the hospital with the PE, I was scared and so regretful that I hadn't written Liv her letters. The middle of the night what-ifs in a hospital are awful.

So, I now have my own tradition for Livie's birthday. Last week, I bought cards. Lots and lots of cards. From "Happy 4th Birthday" to "Congratulations on the birth of your baby" and everything in-between.


I am going to spend the coming weeks writing letters for each card. Then, every year when her birthday comes around, I intend to update the letters that need updating. Writing to her has taken more time and made me cry more than I expected. I am hoping that by telling the Internet my plan, it will help hold me accountable. Hopefully Livie never needs to see these letters, but it brings me an odd sense of comfort to know that they will exist.

In more upbeat news, we have been busy taking down fall decorations around the house, and putting up winter ones.  (Carter's swing is still sitting where the Christmas tree traditionally goes, so I have a feeling it may be awhile before the tree goes up.)  We made snowflakes last night.  The three of us each cut out our own snowflakes, and then Livie asked me to help her make a baby one for Carter. This morning she taped them up on the cabinets of a bench that is in our entry way.

I took these pictures all within a minute or two of each other.  All with the same settings, and no flash.  The lighting hitting the bench was no different for any of the doors.  I retook all 4 pictures several times, trying to get the cabinets to look similar in all the pictures.  Each picture turned out the same every time.

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Monday, November 28, 2011

Thank you

I am the delivery that every midwife dreads.

I called my midwife in the middle of the night, waking her up. I could hear it in her voice that she didn't want to go to the hospital that night, yet she didn't argue when I told her that I needed to go in. Then, she arrives to find out that the baby has no heartbeat. Not what she was hoping for that shift I am sure.

I know what a bad day at work is like for me. I have to put a smile on my face and help my clients the best I can. Even the ones that are pains in the butt. There are days that I dread going to work, and projects that make me wish I could turn around and crawl back into bed. I am sure that is what my midwife was feeling that night. If not worse. (after all, my bad days rarely involve my clients crying, or having to hold dead babies)

Yet, she made sure I was taken care of. She called in support for me and sat with me when I needed her there. She reassured me through Carter's delivery and made me feel safe.

On Wednesday, I have my 6 week postpartum appointment. And I have SO many questions. I am hoping that the placenta test results will be back, and am dreading that possibility at the same time.

Wednesday morning, my midwife will come in to work and see my name on her schedule. If it were me, I would want to turn around and go home. I know I won't be her most fun appointment all day. But I am confident that she will be there when I show up. And she will take all the time I need to get my questions answered.

I don't know how to thank her, or any of the other midwives that sat with me during my days in the hospital. How do I write thank you notes relating to my son's death? Yet I want to.

So many people have been a support to me (even when it wasn't easy) and I want to make sure they know how much I appreciate it. No one wants to go to a baby's funeral, but people came. I can't thank everyone enough - I was so scared that we would plan his funeral and no one would come.

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My Monday afternoon will be spent trying to write thank you notes and letters to Livie (more on that later). I am going to get through as many thank-yous as I can, and call it good. My plan is to write to groups of people - my co-workers, Shawn's co-workers, etc. People will understand if they don't get an individual thank you note, right?

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Happy Birthday Little Bird!

I can't believe that my baby bird is 3!  How did that happen?

When did she turn from this:

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To this?

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She has grown into such a sweet and smart little girl.  We are truly blessed to have her.

If I haven't already mentioned it, Livie is a planner and control freak, just like me. She likes to know details ahead of time, and tends to plan activities for herself within the framework of what we have told her. We are working on having her communicate those plans to us ahead of time, otherwise disappointment abounds. I have learned that if I tell her we are going to the mall, I need to tell her what mall. And what she will be allowed to do there. Otherwise, a quick trip to the Mall of America will turn into 20 rides and 2 hours at the aquarium in her mind.

Yesterday, I realized that I failed my child.  She has been surrounded by tears and sadness lately, and her birthday (party) has been quite built up in her mind as something fun and exciting.  Only problem is - I have yet to plan said party. Everyone will tell me that it is completely understandable, blah, blah, blah.  Reality is that I have been intending to call Pump it Up since August.  Not the end of the world - right?  There is always next month.  Except for the fact that I neglected to explain to Livie that one does not always have their birthday party on the same day as their birthday.

We went to the grocery store yesterday so that Livie could pick out her birthday cake.  To eat at home.  With just her immediate family.  Too bad she didn't know that.  I was horrified when she pointed to some cupcakes, declaring those to be for her friends at her party.  And a Dora cake to eat at home.  Oops.

I explained that the cupcakes would wait at the store until the day of her party, and we were just going to buy her home cake.  She was disappointed, but she seemed to understand.  At least I thought she did.

As soon as we got home, she wanted her Dora cake's picture taken next to her Carter cake.  Boots the body guard is now working double duty.

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Livie fell asleep yesterday eagerly awaiting her birthday in the morning.  As soon as she was down for the night, I took off for Target (Shawn was home) to buy her a birthday card.  Who forgets a birthday card for a kid who is obsessed with reviewing the card options every time we go to Target?  Oops.  Again.  Thank goodness for Black Friday and late hours at Target, or Livie would have been stuck with whatever I could have found at the grocery store.

This morning I woke up to Livie sitting next to me in bed, jabbering away.  She was apparently quite excited to be 3.  After some begging and pleading, Liv talked us into getting up.  I had set-up all her presents in the living room the night before, so they would be the first thing she saw when she walked out there.  I left some things wrapped, but the hand-me-down Barbies (why buy new ones when my Barbies from the 80's still have plenty of play in them?) and all their accessories were set-up and ready to be played with.  Livie completely ignored her wrapped presents at first, and went right to town playing.  She was thrilled with her Barbies (not so much with the jeans and socks that I had wrapped up).

Then came the question - "When are my friends coming over?  Or are they meeting us at Pump it Up?"

ummmm.... what?  (I thought we had gone over this yesterday)

I again explained that birthdays and parties aren't always on the same day.  There were tears.  Lots and lots of tears.  And who can blame the kid?  I totally set her up for disappointment.  That is all she has had lately.  She got over it eventually, but I still feel like crap about it.

Thankfully, uncle Justin came over with his arms full of presents and totally brightened Livie's day.  Our bird was spoiled today.  Several new Barbie sets, several new Littlest Pet Shop Sets AND a new bean bag chair.  All from her favorite uncle.  Lucky kid!  Uncle stuck around to play with Livie and have some cake (check out her new sweatshirt from Dad!):

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Livie is sound asleep on the couch now, all played out from her new toys.  Happy 3rd Birthday sweetheart!

One more picture for good measure.  When I bought Livie's bitty baby from Carter, I also bought her and her baby matching Christmas dresses.  It was the last present for Livie that I had bought while still pregnant, so they were Carter's gift to Livie today.  She yelled a sincere thank you up to Heaven (without prompting) when she saw her gift, and then began twirling around so that Carter could see her dress spin.  

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(I was doing so good today, I hadn't cried once all day until I wrote the last paragraph.  Baby steps I suppose.)

Friday, November 25, 2011

Please don't forget

Yesterday sucked.

The day started out ok - we got up and got ready to go have breakfast with Shawn's family.  Livie threw a massive fit on our way out the door, but other than that I was doing ok in the morning.  I survived through breakfast and then we headed home for some quiet time around the house, before dinner with my family in the evening.

I laid out the outfit that Carter was going to wear - a comfy brown and red fleece outfit that Liv and I had picked out together a couple weeks before Carter was born.  I'm not sure why I got it out, it just felt like the thing to do.  It is still laying on his changing table.

I had my tears and my wishing and my what ifs - looking over pictures and thinking about what could have been.  But I pulled myself together and got everyone ready for dinner.

On our way to my grandma's house, it felt like someone was missing.  Carter was supposed to be with us.  I thought for a moment about asking Shawn to turn around so we could go home and get him.  As weird as it sounds (carrying around your dead son's ashes) I really did want him with us.  Even though no one else would have understood, I still do kind of wish we had brought him with.

Livie was the star of the show at Thanksgiving dinner.  She had a couple birthday presents waiting for her which she opened with enthusiasm - some reindeer slippers from her cousin Hannah, and a baby doll stroller from Grandma and Papa.  Her antics kept people entertained all night.  Everyone was having fun. It was business as usual for Thanksgiving.  And that is the part that sucked.

People would bristle at the mention of Carter - "Olivia, what a pretty doll, where did you get it?" - "Carter gave it to me"  :silence:  Until someone would quickly change the subject.
(When I was pregnant, I bought a bitty baby doll and accessories that was supposed to be a present from Carter to Olivia when she came to meet him at the hospital.  Instead, she got it after his funeral.  She knows that he was in my belly when we bought the doll and that he helped pick it out for her.)

I tried to mention Carter once - and people quickly turned away and pretended like they didn't hear me.

It is no secret that Shawn and I had trouble coming up with boy names that we both loved.  In the end, we had a list of boy names that one of us loved.  I have written about how Livie chose the name Carter, but the other names on the list were Logan, Cooper and Sawyer.  For a long time, Livie had been campaigning for 'Cooper' and most of our family had heard her discuss it.

The only time yesterday that anyone even came close to acknowledging the fact that we have a son, was when my uncle pulled me aside to let me know "that a couple days before *it* happened" (exact words) he had gotten a dog and named it Cooper.  He was kind and genuine about what he was saying.  He hadn't known at the time that Cooper was a name we were considering, and he wanted to bring it up to us before we heard mention of his dog Cooper.  Of course he can call his dog whatever he wants, and I appreciate how thoughtful he was in pulling us aside.  But it breaks my heart that this conversation was the only one that came close to bringing Carter up.

I made it out of my grandma's house ok, but burst into tears the second that the door closed behind us on our way out.  Not only was Carter not with us - but no one remembered that he was supposed to be there.

There is no guidebook or rules about what to say or do when a baby dies.  And I am sure that everyone wants it handled differently.  So I am telling myself that our entire family didn't forget about Carter.  They just didn't know what to say.  That has to be it.  I have to let myself think that everyone else was missing his presence as much as I was.  And it was just easier to pretend like nothing had happened than to acknowledge his absence.

In the week between his birth and his funeral, everyone was sad with me.  There were plenty of tears to go around.  But now, everyone is back to their normal.  Thankful that it wasn't them or their child.

I am the only one that had the privilege of knowing Carter while he was alive.  So of course no one can possibly miss him as much as I do.  And no one can understand the hole in my heart.  But moving forward through life knowing that we are the only ones who will continue to mourn his absence is like a dagger in that hole.

I received several (much appreciated) messages from friends yesterday - you know who you are - thank you!  Carter even received a message reminding him how missed he was.

I just wish his family would have remembered him too.

Last night when I was tucking Olivia in, we said a bedtime prayer and at the end, asked baby Jesus to tell Carter how much we love and miss him and how much we wished he could have been with us today.  A couple minutes after we said amen, Livie told me - "He told him.  Baby Jesus told Carter, and he knows".   Oh how I hope that is true.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Thanksgiving

Today I am thankful for my amazing husband and daughter, but missing my son SO much.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Carter's Tree

Shortly after Carter was born, some good friends sent us a seed for an oak tree. It had already started to sprout (just a tiny crack in the seed), so we planted it as a family. Look how it has grown in a month!

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Livie has been taking good care of Carter's tree - watering it every 3 days, and making sure it gets the sunshine it needs. We planted it in the container that came with it, but I am thinking that we may need to transplant it before spring at this rate.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

To the ends of the earth

I spoke with a woman today who knows our story, and yet still hinted (not so subtly) that in her mind I only have one child.  As we parted ways, she told me that she hoped I was enjoying my maternity leave.   In the interest of harmony, I will bite my tongue for now. But I have been replaying the conversation that I wish I could have with her in my mind all day...

If you are a parent (she is), think back to when you were pregnant. Remember all of the hopes and dreams that you had for your child. All the planning and preparing that consumed 9 months of your life. The exhaustion, pain and hormones that come with sharing your body with another human being.

Now bring yourself to the day your child was born. Do you still remember the beginning stages of labor, and all of the anticipation that comes with that? What about the pain of the contractions that you knew would bring you your baby? Giving birth is an experience embedded deep in every mother's mind and heart. Can you still feel all the emotions that came flooding over you as you pushed your baby from your body? And the first time you saw your child - have you ever loved anyone more than you did in that second?

What would happen if your child was taken from you at that moment? "I am sorry. You can't have your baby. You may look at him for awhile, but he can't go home with you.". What if you were forced, against your will, to hand your baby over to strangers before leaving the hospital?

No matter how loudly you scream, no one will come and help you. There is NOTHING you can do. There is no choice. You must go home without your baby. And you will never see him again. There is no ransom that can be paid, no police or court that can intervene - your baby is simply gone.  Taken from you without your consent.

Do you write that child off? He is gone so he never existed? Would you ever stop looking for him?  No. Mothers all over the world would walk through fire and never stop searching for their baby. What if your 2 year old disappeared? Or your 10 year old? Do they suddenly stop counting as one of your children?

Just because my child is no longer on this earth does not make him any less my son.

I am sorry if thinking of me as having two children makes you uncomfortable. Just think about how I feel about it.  Maternity leave without a baby to care for is a blast.


An angel in the book of life wrote down our baby's birth.  Then whispered as she closed the book, "too beautiful for earth" 

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Livie part 2

Tonight I thought out-loud and said, "oh, I wish we could have brought Carter home"

Livie piped in innocently, and with almost a touch of hurt in her voice - "but you got to bring me home"

And we did - I have my Livie. (and she has her cake)

I have been emotionally and physically exhausted, so Livie has been going to daycare. It is her normal, and I needed the alone time. But she is right, I got to bring her home. So tomorrow, we are going to try and have a 'home day'.

Livie loves home days. And normally, so do I. Tomorrow I hope that I can live up to her expectations. We made a list of things we want to do tomorrow, and included on the list is playing with her cake.

We ordered a monkey cake for Carter's funeral. I didn't realize it was never served (cupcakes were easier I suppose) until I cleaned out our fridge a week and a half ago and found it. I set it out with the intention of tossing it, but then Livie found it. She screamed out "Carter!" when she first saw it, and has been talking to the monkey on the cake like it is her brother ever since. She runs out into the kitchen to say good morning as soon as she wakes up, and always says goodnight before going to bed. In-between there, she talks to him, tickles him, brings him toys and hugs him. Dora's buddy Boots the monkey is constantly perched next to the cake to watch over Carter, and the top of the cake box is NEVER to be closed.

I haven't encouraged or discouraged her relationship with the cake. I figure it is one of her ways to cope, so I will let her do what she has to do. I don't have the heart to throw it away, so I have a nearly month-old cake, with rock hard frosting sitting on my kitchen counter. It breaks my heart when she hugs that cake. I hope that someday Livie understands that I wanted to bring Carter home not just for myself, but for her too. He is part of our family, and hugging a little brother beats hugging a cake any day.


Livie

My sweet little bird is currently snuggled up next to me, asleep on the couch. I am so thankful for her.

The poor girl has had a rough month too.  She went from being massively excited for her little brother, to trying to understand what death meant.  She is a smarty pants for her age, but how does an almost three year old begin to comprehend that her baby brother had an owie too big to fix?  How do I explain to her someday that really, it was my body's fault?  Carter didn't have a single thing wrong with him.  And how do you explain it all in a way that she isn't terrified of owies?

Livie has asked numerous times why the doctors couldn't fix Carter's owie.   Afterall, they fixed daddy's owie and we have promised that they will help mommy get better.  When you are three, how do you know what owies send you to heaven, and what ones don't?

It isn't fair that she has to grieve with us at such a young age.   And it isn't fair that she has to watch her mom cry, and have to hear me say, "I am sorry, I can't _______" (pick you up, go outside, etc).  Lots of things aren't fair.

But yesterday Livie had a good day.   I can honestly say that it was probably her first good day in a month.  I might actually go as far as to say that it was probably the best day I have had in a month too. 

Livie's preschool teacher is getting married in March, and our bird has the privilege of being the flower girl.  Livie is quite excited and in preparation, looks through our wedding scrapbook almost daily.  This has led to her own scrapbook being pulled out too (and I will admit that it goes as far as her first month of life).  The first time she opened it up, she saw a picture of herself on the baby scale, and pointed to it, asking me if that was Carter.   Looking over her first page, I realized that we had some of the same pictures of Carter as we did of Olivia.  At that moment, I resolved to finish Livie's first year in her book, AND make one for Carter.

On Friday, Livie and I chose 200 of our favorite pictures (after sorting through 11,926 photos from the last three years) and sent them to Target for printing.  Yesterday morning we picked up the pictures and a new album.  And thus began our good day.

Scrapbooking is definitely not my forte.   It always sounds like such a great idea - and then I sit down and try to do it and remember that I don't have patience for things like that.  As a result I have tons of pretty paper that will probably never get used.  But I was determined to make Carter a book, and Livie was excited for a "mother daughter activity"

We chose pictures and paper together, and Livie became an expert gluer.  She alternated between working on pages for her book and pages for Carter's book.  The pages that she made for Carter were done with such care - she used her favorite stickers and each page had its own story.  (I should write down Livie's thoughts behind each page before I forget)  It was the first time in a month that I have had the energy to do something with her that didn't result in one or both of us in tears and frustrated.

A good friend had arranged for a playdate yesterday, and she arrived at our house with her daughter just as Livie's interest in scrapbooking was about done.  Liv needed a chance to play and have fun.  The girls played for over four hours straight.  This gave me a chance to relax and talk.  I don't think I realized how much I needed that until afterwards.

I have no idea how long I have known her (we tend to say preschool) and we haven't always loved each other (I remember some boy-drama during middle school summer orchestra) but this friend (who I have no doubt is reading this right now) always seems to know what I need.  So thank you.  We need to do that again soon.

Our good day ended with some more scrapbooking and an easy bedtime.  Carter's book is started - we will finish it when we get the rest of our NILMDTS pictures back.  And even though most pages consist only of pictures glued onto pretty paper, Olivia's first year is done as well.

A sampling of Olivia's hard work (clickable)



And the first pages of the kids scrapbooks





Friday, November 18, 2011

The 18th

Shawn and I had our first date on May 18th 2005.  Shawn had his brain surgery on May 18th, 2011.  On May 18th 2012 I will get the test results for the clotting disorders they can't yet test for.  Carter was born on October 18th, 2011.  And now, here we are November 18th, 2011 - Shawn's 30th birthday, and the day that our son is supposed to be one month old.

Has it really been one month? An entire month without my baby?

I feel like I am coming out of the postpartum hormone haze.  But the saddness is left behind.  I should be showing off my new baby at lunches out with friends and choosing holiday outfits.   Instead I am dreading the upcoming holidays and parties.   I need to accept this but I don't know how.   This is my life. But going forward seems so wrong - how am I supposed to just move on like he was never here?   I ask myself that over and over again.  I have been doing a lot of reading on moms who have lost babies, and the stories include interviews of women in their 90's who still cry when talking about their babies that passed.  It is going to take a lot of time to adjust to life without Carter.

Such a bittersweet day - happy 18th to the men in my life

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I love you always and forever, no matter what.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Milk in the freezer and a swing in the living room

If you know me, you know that I am a huge supporter of nursing moms.   It can be great for mom, and breast milk is best for babies. I have always thought that if I had excess milk, I would donate it.

After Carter was born, I found myself with plenty of milk and no baby to give it to, so I started pumping. It was hard at times, but it also gave me a sense of comfort.  I took it slow, and pumped when I could, and if it was too much, I skipped a session.   It was something I really wanted to do and I was determined to keep my supply up, because I knew I would regret it if I didn't stick out the early days.

I started filling my freezer and then I learned that the milk bank wouldn't take milk that had Tylenol or advil in it. So I dumped some milk, and planned to wean myself off the pain meds.  Then the PE hit.  Milk with CT scan dye, Lovenox and Coumadin is no good to anyone.  I wouldn't even be able to nurse my own baby with those meds in my system.

The realization that I wouldn't even be able to help other babies with Carter's milk was heartbreaking.

I have 20 ounces of advil/Tylenol milk in my freezer.  The milk banks won't take it, and it isn't enough milk to be worth anyone's time.   I don't know what to do with it.  I can't bring myself to throw it away - it is liquid gold - Carter's liquid gold.  So it sits in my freezer - a constant reminder of my baby that I never got to nurse.

The reminders are everywhere.   Carter's side of the kids' room is exactly as it was the day he was born.   Every outfit and diaper is in its place, and all the baby gear is set-up and ready to go.  Putting things away seems too final.  Of course we know that keeping stuff around won't make our baby magically return, but how can we put things away and pretend like he isn't supposed to be here?  Livie would never let Carter's things leave her room anyway, but it breaks my heart every time I walk in there.

I told Shawn this weekend that I thought I was ready for the baby swing to go in the basement.   He nodded, but didn't make any effort to move it.  Maybe he isn't ready.  So there the empty swing sits in the corner of our living room.  Silent evidence of the baby that is supposed to be here.

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Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Letters to Heaven

I was on my way out the door to head to lunch with a friend today when I had the sudden urge to release one of Carter's balloons.

Before the service, Livie picked out some ballon bunches to have at Carter's funeral. After the funeral, we let Livie release one that said, "Love always and forever" and we brought the rest home. They have been sitting in his crib since then.

I cut one of the blue heart shape balloons from the bunch and grabbed a sharpie. I hadn't intended to write anything, but before I knew it I had written a short note to Carter. Signing the note "mom" brought on some feelings that I wasn't expecting. It made it feel official - I am his mom. It was heart-breaking and comforting at the same time.

I have talked about Carter to a number of people, but I haven't talked to him. Writing to him was a good thing.

I let the balloon go in our backyard and it didn't take long before it floated over the roofline. I ran to the front yard (which doesn't take long given our tiny house) and the balloon was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and I know it had already cleared the trees - I should have been able to see the balloon floating forever. I know there is a perfectly logical explanation for where the balloon went, but I am just going to let myself think that it got snatched up into heaven so that my note could get to Carter. 

"What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose" - Henry Ward Beecher

Monday, November 14, 2011

Pulmonary Embolism

A month ago, I would not have had any clue what a pulmonary embolism was.  But a lot of things have changed in the past month.

The week after Carter was born, we spent our days getting ready for his funeral.  It was a surreal experience - I went from eagerly awaiting my son to planning his good-bye.  The abruption and delivery left me physically and emotionally drained, so when I started to tire easily I didn't think much of it.

The morning of Carter's funeral I took a shower with the water as hot as I could stand it.  I cried and cried until I couldn't handle the water anymore.  As we got ready for the day, I started to feel light headed and dizzy.  I chalked it up to the hot shower and my dread for the day.  As the day wore on, I felt worse and worse.  I tried to push how I was feeling out of my mind. It was my son's funeral - I had to be there.  I had been looking forward to seeing him since I said good-bye at the hospital.   I needed to see him.  So I went on with the day.

After the funeral I found myself with a line of people wanting to hug me.  I am thankful for all of the support, but by the end of the hug-line I could barely stand.  I snuck away to sit with a friend as soon as I could.  Sitting with her, she told me that "the friend in me wants to give you a hug, the nurse in me wants you to go to the doctor".  As I sat with her, my vision got blurry and my heart started to race.  The parish nurse checked my blood pressure which was elevated but not dangerous.  Once again, I chalked it up to the day.

The next morning as we were getting ready, I gave in to my symptoms.  I could barely see, and was extremely dizzy.   After dropping Liv off at daycare I had Shawn bring me to the ER.

After some tests and a scan, the emergency room doctor came in and told me that I had clots in my lungs. I still didn't understand what a big deal this was.  Pretty soon I had my midwives (and an angel named Dawn) checking on me, and everyone was telling me how lucky I was that I had come in.  At some point it hit home that a PE was not to be taken lightly.   I have never been so scared in my life (and still am).

That first night in the hospital was rough.  All I could think about was Shawn and Livie.  I don't know how to articulate all the thoughts I had that night, but I am thankful that the heparin did what it was supposed to do and thankful that I got to the hospital in time.

Going forward, I need to be on warfarin for 6ish months.  That seems like an eternity.   I feel like my life will be in a holding pattern for the next six months.   Blood tests (for clotting disorders) need to wait until I am off of the warfarin and the hematologist won't even discuss a possible future pregnancy until the results are back.

I don't know where to go from here.  Even though I am not emotionally ready for another pregnancy, everything in me wants to be pregnant yesterday.  I know it is the hormones and my heart's desire to be snuggling my sweet baby, but I can't shake the need to plan for another baby.   But I am not healthy.  I need to take time - time for my body and heart to heal.   I am struggling to accept that this is my life now.  My son died and I am not healthy.  How did I get here?

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Carter

"I have a son - his name is Carter. And I miss him."
I don't know how many times a day those thoughts run through my mind.

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When he was first born, my initial reaction was not to name him Carter. But Shawn echoed Livie's thoughts and chose the name Carter. And they made the right choice.

When I hear Olivia say Carter's name, my heart melts. His name is safe and loved in her mouth. She says his name with such care and love. Sometimes there is sadness in her voice, but it is always accompanied by a tenderness that only Livie could convey. Carter was her brother, and she loved him as much as we did. In the hospital, she was the proudest big sister. Time after time, she counted his fingers - 5 on each hand. And his toes - 5 on each foot. She marveled over every inch of him. His dark hair and tiny nose. Carter was her brother and she saw nothing but love for him.

Oh how I wish we could have brought him home. I wish I had more stories to tell about him. I try to relive every moment that we had with him. Carter and I - we had plans. Our first outing (just the two of us) was going to be to go get Shawn's birthday present. I already had it picked out, but I really wanted to be able to tell Shawn that his present was from his son, so I was waiting until he was born. Shawn's birthday is on Friday (which should be the day Carter turns one month) and I still haven't gotten his present. I am not sure I will be able to. I drove to the store, and burst into tears in the parking lot so I just went back home. I confessed to Shawn the other night that I am just not sure if I will be able to get his present this year.

I try to tell myself it is ok to be a miserable sobbing mess.  I can't imagine a day when I don't feel like this.    Right now, I need to savor every memory I have of Carter, and cry over every memory we won't get to make.  Friends reassure me that it won't be like this forever.  Someday I will be happy again.

Did I know? Should I have known?

At some point in spring 2011 I remember laying in bed and looking at our closet door.  I think Shawn may have been up and getting ready in the background.  But I remember the closet door so vividly, and thinking about how blessed we had been since meeting each other six years earlier.  And suddenly, I got a horrible awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I knew that things wouldn't always be easy for us, and our time was coming.  I don't know where those thoughts and feelings came from but I have never been able to shake that feeling.

 It isn't my place to share Shawn's journey with the world, but May brought a brain tumor.  And it wasn't always easy.  That was the beginning of our struggle.  I was already pregnant.

 My entire pregnancy, it felt funny to buy baby things.  Was my mind trying to tell me something?  Did my body know something that I didn't?  I was both scared and excited for the baby.  But there were somethings that I could never bring myself to do (like think about whether or not to circumcise).  Some decisions didn't feel necessary - even though they were.  When Livie and I went out to buy a new pump, it felt SO wrong.  The entire time that I wavered between the PISA and the Freestyle I kept thinking in the back of my mind, "why am I buying this?".  At the check-out, I had a strong urge to tell the cashier "never mind" and put the pump back.  I felt the same way when I bought the play mat, and sheets and clothes, and everything else I bought.

 The night I went into labor, I KNEW I was going into labor soon.   Livie's labor was so quick, that I swore this time around I would head to the hospital at the first sign of anything going on.  So why didn't I?  Why did I crawl into bed that night?

 Carter wasn't a particularly active baby.   My midwife said it was the anterior placenta.  Some days I hardly felt him at all.  But nighttime was our check-in time.  If I laid on my right side at bedtime, I would feel him.  And I could never fall asleep until he let me know he was still ok in there.  So that last night, why did I rationalize it when I didn't feel him when I laid down?

My Internet reading has taught me that a placental abruption can feel like a never ending contraction.   I know that feeling.  It started at Livie's bedtime and continued until I got my epidural.  And a placental abruption isn't all or nothing.  It takes time for the placenta to separate.  So what if when I crawled into bed that night it wasn't all the way separated?   What if I headed to the hospital then instead of trying to get some sleep in?   My midwife has told me multiple times that the outcome likely would not have changed.  Likely.  She says that there is nothing we could have done.  And I want so badly to believe her.   And I know I should.  I can't bring myself to think through the reasons why she is right, but she is.  By the time I knew something was wrong, it was too late.


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I can't help but feel guilty.  Should I have seen this coming?  Should I have known?  My son is gone and I didn't save him.  My husband lost his son, and my daughter lost her brother.  And I am the only one that stood any chance of having saved him.  Not only do I mourn my son, I mourn for my husband and daughter and their losses.  I had so many plans and dreams for my little guy - and they are gone.

I don't know what the future holds for our family, but I do know that I am scared.  The future will never feel like a safe place again.   I want a long future with the man I love.  I want Livie to have a sibling.   More than that, she needs a sibling.   Otherwise she will be very much alone one day.

It will probably be 6-9 months before we get the ok to try again.  And even then, will we be ready?  Will we be healthy?   I will be a high risk pregnancy.  And there are no guarantees.  This we know.  And it won't be Carter - it will be some other baby.  And Livie will be 5 or older when he or she arrives.   That is too far apart for them to be close like I imagined and dreamed.   My mind spins 100 miles an hour with all the possible scenarios and lost dreams.

For now, all I can do is hope and pray that we all heal and stay healthy.  Time is precious, so I don't want to wish it away.  But I hope that the next six months are a good healing time for our family, and not as long and painful as the past six have been.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Did I imagine it?

Mornings are the worst. 

I sleep soundly all night, but when I wake up, reality hits me like a ton of bricks.  Some mornings I wake up and remember immediately.  Other mornings I reach for my belly before realizing that I am not pregnant anymore.  The worst is when I wake up to the feeling of my milk letting down.  On more than one occasion I have woken up to a letdown and in my half-sleep state thought to myself, "oh, it is time to feed the baby".  The thought lasts only for a split second but the moment I remember is like reliving his passing all over again.

When I was pregnant with Livie I loved every painful second of the pregnancy.  As much as I wanted to meet her, I also wanted to savor every second of her inside of me.  My pregnancy with Carter was different.  There were times that I forgot I was pregnant.  He wasn't a particularly active baby, and I didn't find myself enjoying the pregnancy like I did with Livie.  I told myself that it was the stress of Shawn's medical issues, and I told myself it was 2nd child syndrome.  The truth is, that I never got as attached and bonded to the pregnancy.  And that is so painful to me now.

Some days I have to remind myself that I didn't imagine Carter.   It is as if I could have been pregnant 10 years ago.  From the moment that I realized the nurses couldn't find a heartbeat, I felt like I was having an out of body experience.  Was this all really happening to me?  Did it all actually happen?  I went through labor and delivery.  I fell in love with the sweetest little boy I have ever laid my eyes on.  I have milk in my freezer.  But no baby to show for it.  Walking through a store, I don't have a little bundle for people to ooh and aah over.  All I have is 25 extra pounds.  No one knows that I should have a baby in my arms.  It would be so easy for me to pretend it never happened - but I can't.   I can't forget about the hole in heart.

Someday I will run out of pictures to share.  But for now, I have my proof.  I didn't imagine him.  He was here, and very much loved.


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There are times when I just keep thinking that the nightmare has to end.  The past year has been so hard on us that there is no way it can possibly be real.  Why has this all happened?  Shawn and I are 29 - what 29 year old couple should have to go through brain cancer, the loss of their son and a pulmonary embolism all in 5 months?  It is just unbelievable to me.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Due Date

Today was/is Carter's due date. The day was a lot harder than I expected.

Livie was home with me for most of the day, and we just hung out and took it easy. Admittedly, I let her watch a lot more TV and play more computer than would be ideal. But I figure I have a good excuse.

The tears just wouldn't stop coming today. They have a mind of their own and are completely uncontrollable.

I just want to shout from the rooftops "I want my baby!!!". I miss him so, so, so much. Almost more than I can handle at times. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing that anyone can do for me. I am left with a big gaping hole in my heart that will never be filled. Losing a child is the absolute worst broken heart ever. No one should have to go through this.

I poured over the pictures that we have of Carter last night. I wanted to (and did) post one on Facebook today to honor him. And I had to pick just the right one. This is the one I eventually chose:


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We are waiting for the rest of our shots from NILMDTS (Ginger took our pictures) but then that is it. It hit me last night that there will be no more pictures. We have what we have and there will never be more. No more chances. All I have left of my precious little boy are some pictures, footprints, snippets of hair and a box of ashes.

Before we left the hospital I tried to take in and memorize every inch of him. His dad's hands, his sister's baby toe and his long legs that he got from me. I smelled him over and over, trying to save his scent in my memory forever. But it wasn't long enough. It never would have been long enough. I don't have every inch memorized. I never got to see his eyes, and once he was dressed we never undressed him.

I asked the funeral home not to launder his clothes, in hopes that his scent would still be there. But it isn't. I have tried 100 times to smell his onesie but there is none of him on it. Just some make-up from their attempt to make him look ok for the viewing. (he did look fine, but he did not look like my sweet baby that I left at the hospital)

I don't know how to move forward from here. Everyone else's life is going on, but I am stuck. Stuck trying to come to terms with a life without my baby. I have a sweet, amazing daughter for whom I am so thankful. But I don't have my son and that is one broken heart that I'm not sure I will ever get over.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

The saddest homecoming

Olivia has been excited to be a big sister from the moment we decided we were ready to try for a second baby. At target one day, (months before I was pregnant with Carter) I grabbed a bottle of prenatal vitamins and threw them in the cart. Livie's whole face lit up and she told me, "Those are for my baby brother!" I will never know where that came from, but she was quite correct.

From the moment I first saw two pink lines, Livie knew a baby was on the way. She sensed it, and we went with it. When we finally told daycare that we were expecting, all the teachers smiled at each other and confessed that Livie had been talking about the baby for weeks.

For my entire pregnancy, Livie oohed and aahed over the baby. She helped pick out baby gear and eagerly helped me rearrange her room to make space for her baby. The only moment of disappointment may have been when we first found out that the baby was a boy. We had the ultrasound technician write the gender on a piece of paper and we opened it as a family:



Her disappointment was short-lived as she jumped straight into helping me pick out blue clothes, blue blankets and as many boy-rattles as she could talk me into buying.

She would kiss my belly goodnight, sing "Hush little brother" and plan out her days as a big sister. She was most excited to push him in his baby swing, and watch over him in the car.

As we neared the baby's expected arrival, we discussed names as a family. The baby had been coined 'Logan' but we continued to toss around possible names. The night before he was born, I knew I was starting to go into labor. I asked Livie - "if the baby comes tonight, what should we name him" She didn't hesitate in answering "Carter".


Processing Carter's passing has been difficult for her. At almost three years old, she doesn't quite understand how Carter could be playing with baby Jesus at the same time as she cuddled his body at the hospital. Or how he could be playing with baby Jesus at the same time as she saw him at his funeral.

We didn't explain the concept of cremation to her. We simply told her that "the men" were going to put Carter's body in a special container so that we could bring him home. Last night on the way to the funeral home to pick up Carter, she had a lot of questions. She was clearly trying to understand how he could be in the container and with baby Jesus at the same time. She also didn't quite comprehend that he wasn't going to cry from the container, or sleep in his crib. Livie really, really wanted to feed him a bottle.

We picked up Carter's remains from the funeral home, and I managed to get in and out before bursting into tears on the sidewalk. Livie's reaction was quite simple - "The men turned Carter into a moon statue!"

I asked Shawn to place Carter in his carseat (which Olivia refuses to allow to be removed from the car) and we drove home.

It is good to have my son at home with us. I just wish he was a snuggly baby, not a container of ashes. Anytime Livie saw me cry last night, she would offer to go get Carter so I could snuggle him and in her mind, then I wouldn't miss him.

Being the terrific big sister that she is, Livie attempted to dress Carter's container in a hat and onesie. She kissed him and made sure she was comfortable. What an amazing big sister she is. I wish Carter could be here to soak up all the love she has to give.

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