Wishing for a do-over

I have tried all week to think of something else to write about.  No luck.

Blogging is way cheaper than therapy, so I guess I will just continue to pour out of my heart, whatever it is that needs to come out.

I have mentioned many times that Carter's death was completely unexpected.  On the way to the hospital, I knew that something wasn't quite right, and I had typical pregnancy worries.  But I never considered that something actually might be wrong.  During the weeks and months of getting ready for Carter, we didn't plan for the possibility that he wouldn't come home with us.  "Decide what to do if your baby dies" isn't on any of the 'get ready for baby' checklists.  It is so unfair that for those of us thrust into the situation, that the hard choices must be made so quickly.  It is impossible to have a clear mind when making decisions.

The nurses and midwives asked us if we wanted an autopsy.  Shawn and I agreed - "no".  The doctors saw the abruption on the ultrasound.  All the symptoms lined up.  We decided that we were ok accepting that it was the abruption and that we didn't need more information.

Then, they asked again.  "Are you sure you don't want an autopsy?"  -  "Yes, we are sure".

Yet again, I wish I would have heard what they were saying with unspoken words... "We can't force you to do this.  But please, have the autopsy.  You will regret it if you don't.  Days, months, years from now when the questions pop up, your only chance for answers will be gone."  ... Yet I didn't hear the hidden message.  All I heard was them asking if they should cut my baby open.  Of course I didn't want that.  How could they possibly cut into this sweet little boy?

Besides, an autopsy would take time.  And I wanted it all done and over with as soon as it could be.  As if leaving the hospital and rushing the funeral would make reality disappear.

But the unanswered questions now swim in my mind.

I am certain I had an abruption with Livie as well.  But it didn't kill her.  So why did it kill Carter?  What if the abruption wasn't the true culprit?  Or what if it was a contributing factor, but there were other forces at work that weakened him?

That morning in the hospital, when I confirmed that I didn't want an autopsy, I didn't know what information I was passing on.  Carter was a perfectly normal weight for his age.  Right-on compared to what Liv weighed at birth.  And he was big for his age - there was no way he would fit in the preemie clothes I had brought.  He had long legs, and the nurse measured his height multiple times to make sure she was correct.  These indicate that the placenta was doing its job.  Helping him grow.  What I didn't understand, was that in some situations, there could be clue inside his little body as to how long the abruption had been going on for.  Were his organs normally developed?  Or was their growth stunted?  If it appeared that the abruption had been going on for some time - what would that mean for a future pregnancy?  If he was completely normal, that would be a clue that the abruption was sudden, happening only after labor started.  What would that mean for a future pregnancy?  The doctors can't check the size of his organs from a container of ashes, so I will never know.

And then, there is the question I am scared to ask.  We agreed that we could live with abruption being the cause of his death.  So why does my mind ask more questions?  Why am I not satisfied to accept the clearest answer?

Nine days before Carter was born, we went to a birthday party.  The party was for the daughter of one of my dearest friends.  We all had a blast.  And then, the e-mail came.  An e-mail telling me that a little boy that had been at the party had the chicken pox.

I didn't know much about pregnancy and chicken pox, except that the two weren't good together.  Doctor google provided me with the info I needed: chickenpox in pregnancy... "A greater threat to a baby occurs when the mother develops chickenpox in the week before birth. Then it can cause a serious, life-threatening infection in a newborn."


Other sites suggested that stillbirth was possible.  Some sites said that the mother needed to show symptoms before there was a concern.  Other sites said that exposure in pregnancy was concern enough.  I spent the better part of that day freaking out to a co-worker.  She eventually was able to calm me down.  "You will be fine.  You can't worry about this.  After the year you have had, I promise, everything will be ok.  It has to be"  And I believed her.  I was just being a hormonal pregnant lady.  Over-reacting.


I did call the on-call midwife immediately, who suggested that we check at my next appointment to see if I was immune to chicken pox.  I never made it to that appointment, due to Carter's early arrival.

When I first looked over his sweet little body, I noticed something on his arm, but I dismissed it as 'just something'.  But now, I always wonder - what was it?  Just a mark, or the start of chicken pox?


I had been wanting to discuss my questions with my midwife, and then I ended up in the hospital for my gallbladder.  Because I pretty much have the greatest care providers ever, my midwife (came in on her day off as a friend, not a doctor) was by my side when I was brought up to my room.  The nurse asked the typical intake questions.  And then she asked a question I hadn't been asked before.  "Have you been exposed to the chicken pox in the last 3 months?"


I saw my midwife bristle at my answer.  There was an audible gasp.  It was neither the time or place for a discussion about that.  And now I am scared to talk to her.  What if there is more to Carter's story than just an abruption?  What if there isn't?  What if I am just continuing to grasp at made-up straws?  Over-reacting yet again?


I will never know.


I try to tell myself that I am ok not knowing, but that is simply not true.  I don't have questions because I want someone/something to blame.  I have questions because that is all there is to have.  I need answers, but there are none.  Too bad that there are no do-overs in real life.

Everything happens for a reason

Being back to work full-time is eating me alive.  I am going to work on cutting my hours some.  I come home so worn out.  But the days themselves are getting easier.  Slowly I am getting back into the routine of work, and the busyness of this time of year makes the days fly by.  I am hoping I can find the right balance soon.

The good days are getting better and more frequent.  The bad days are getting worse and better all at the same time.  Tears are no longer something I fight off and feel embarrassed about.  They are just part of me - and the whole Carter experience.  Sometimes it almost feels good to cry - to acknowledge my loss and let myself experience it.

In some ways, getting back into the routine of work again has been good for me.  I work with some truly amazing people who have been so good to me.  In talking to my co-workers, I have had a couple revelations lately.  Some of them are the complete inverse of what I have been trying to convince myself of.

The past 8 months have sucked.  There is no denying that.  The entire time, I have continually told myself to be thankful for what I have, and am constantly reminding myself that things could always be worse.  Every time I catch myself feeling sorry for myself (and trust me, there were plenty of times while I was pregnant that it was hard to see the silver lining), I try to narrate a pep talk in my head.  I feel guilty for not being more thankful - there are so many people who have less than I do!

But one day this past week at work, I thought to myself, "My life sucks sometimes".  And for the first time, I didn't feel guilty thinking it.  Because, guess what?  It is true!  I don't know how to explain that I haven't really accepted that fact before this.  Even if the words have crossed my lips, it all felt like a story I made up.  Even in the midst of the worst misery, I have had the hardest time accepting that this is my life now.  But that other day at work, it all clicked into place.  It was as if I could finally take ownership of my hardships, and it was ok.

I still know that things could always be worse, but it is ok that I am not happy with how they are now.  I have a right to be pissed off about the past 8 months.  It sounds so silly, but it was such a relief to accept that.

I tend to genuinely believe that everything happens for a reason.  Even if I can't see it clearly right away - there is always a reason.  Or at the very least, the events of our past lead us down the path to our present.  And if there hadn't been hardships along the way, our present would be drastically different.  How though, do I reconcile Carter dying with "everything happens for a reason"?  How or why could there possibly be a reason for us to lose our son and brother?  It is just plain old not fair.  Just because this is the way things have to be, to get us where we are going in life (wherever that is) doesn't mean that I have to like it.

Our new normal has been changing so much lately.  Evolving and becoming familiar all at once.  Livie has been asking many questions about dying and Heaven.  She checks for the moon outside nightly to say hi to Carter.  And her little thoughts continue to surprise me.

I honestly thought the mysterious falling ornament had been packed away with the rest of the Christmas things.  But, a couple days ago, Livie came running towards me with it in her hand.  "Look mom, look!  There is a heart on the bottom of this ornament!  That is Carter telling you that he loves you!"

And sure enough, when I turned the ornament over, there was a heart on the bottom.

I decided to take a picture of the ornament, and was testing out locations (I miss all the good sunshine while I am at work, and I hate taking pictures with the flash.  I never did find a spot I liked.) when I noticed that the snow-globe of the ornament was getting all cloudy.  I kind of thought to myself how disappointing that was.  It didn't look that way at Christmas, and it didn't make for a great picture now.

No sooner had I thought about it, then the ornament fell and broke.  I totally cried over the ugly thing.

Even after the cloudy snow-globe was gone, I still couldn't get a good picture of it.  Time and time again, only the base would come into focus.  I couldn't get a clear picture of the snowman for anything.  (I swear, I really do know how to use my camera)

(if you haven't figured it out in past posts - just move your mouse over the picture to see the bottom)

So, for what it is worth, here is the ornament.  Broken globe and all.

Check it out...

... A monkey butt!

While we were waiting for dinner to finish cooking tonight, Livie asked to play Thomas. Shawn dug out her train bin and Livie called me to the living room to play.

"Mom! Hurry up! I want to play Thomas with our WHOLE family". Then, she stopped and thought for a minute. "But we can't play with our whole family. Carter isn't here."

She sat there quite perplexed. What was she supposed to do now? Shawn reminded her that Carter is always in our hearts, and that was good enough for Liv. She talked to the monkey butt in her heart the entire time that we played Thomas.

What I wouldn't give for them to have had the chance to actually play together...

3 months

I took the majority of today off work. I had planned it for awhile to give myself a mental and emotional break. Unfortunately I am sick, and have spent most of the day asleep on the couch. I can feel all the strong emotions of heartache swirling inside of me, but I am too worn out to let them surface. I am exhausted. I just feel numb.

I can't believe it has been 3 months. 3 months of life without Carter. Wow.