ticker time.

it's just not.

Here's why you can't say everything's going to be okay:
It's too late for that.
Even if everything is okay for the rest of our lives, it already isn't. It already happened.

telling Josh.

I decided I couldn't wait. I felt like the secret joy was bubbling out of me.

I took the hpt from tuesday and taped it into a Christmas card and brought it out into the living room.
Can I give you an early Christmas present?
If you have to, he said.
So I hand him the card. He looks at it. Opens it and looks some more.
Are you pregnant? he says. That's two lines? Are you sure? He's not happy. He's not excited. Cool, he says.
And then he says, You get so frustrated with Mischa. Do you even want another baby?
So I reacted to that.
And then he gets up and goes into the kitchen and tells me not to get mad at him. And it goes on and on. He's not suprised, he says. Every month he's expected me to tell him that. He knew it was going to happen, he says. I didn't. He asks if I thought I was just ruined forever. Yes, I tell him and I cry and he holds me but still. He keeps talking and talking. And he pops every little bubble inside of me and by the end of night I wish I hadn't even told him.

Christmas.

Susan came over yesterday to give Mischa her present.
She told me that since she knew I didn't want any presents, she made a donation to March of Dimes in Willow's name.

I hate everyone else.

So I told Josh last night. It didn't go as well as I hoped.
I took a test and taped it inside a Christmas card.
I wanted him to do something. To be happy and excited.
Cool, he says but then he asks if I even want another baby and  he doesn't even hug me.
From there it just gets worse.
In the end I felt like I'd been crushed beneath his heel and when I woke up this morning my eyes were still swollen from crying.

He did use the phrase "the baby in your belly" a few times.

I wanted something better.

4 weeks, 1 day.

I told Josh last night. It didn't go how I wanted it to.

POAS this morning. Still pregnant.

Four Weeks.

I will be 8 months pregnant when the corn muffin mix in the pantry expires.
I am 4 weeks pregnant.
Telling Josh... tomorrow? The next day? Tonight? Maybe tonight.
I looked it up on thebump.com - the baby is the size of a poppy seed. That's pretty small. Hard to wrap. Maybe I'll just wrap all the poppy seeds.
I thought about buying a digital test but $10 seemed like a lot of money.
I like looking at the calendar and thinking about what was going on before I knew. The MOMS Club Christmas Party. The playgroup gift exchange. MOMS Club membership meeting. Seeing the mountain lion at the zoo with Jenny and Joshua. Taking Mischa to JCPenney for her birthday/Christmas pictures. Mandana asking "Where's the baby?" then going to Susan's and taking a shot of tequila(!). Getting my first pedicure. Josh making fish tacos.
I like thinking about that + test. Actually my tests look like =. Two lines.

Just two days ago I couldn't stand the thought of other people being pregnant. Now - congratulations. Blaine posted some pics on facebook, his girlfriend's pregnant, they're having a boy. Two days ago that would've made me want to puke.

I even posted a pic of my test in the Conception After chat thread. After it made me so nuts to see everyone else's and I thought posting a separate thread was a much better idea... I didn't even think, just did it.

Things are different on the other side.

But now I am again.

So. Here's what happened. I managed to temp on Saturday and Sunday. Temps were high. Sunday night and last night I slept in Mischa's room because she's sick. Yesterday I had cramps but they didn't feel like period cramps. So. I starting thinking. I had doubts about this cycle. I told myself I wouldn't even worry about it because I just started taking evening primrose oil. January would be my month. New year, new pregnancy.
But I started wondering. Yesterday I was feeling a little of that two week wait anxiety. I filled in my chart and Fertility Friend said I was 11dpo. Maybe my boobs were sore. Maybe.

So I wake up this morning. Maybe 12dpo. But no temp, no test. No need to be wasteful. But I really have to pee. And one of my tests is an old one. It expires soon.... February, I thought. Oh, no, April. Well, that's still soon.
So. I dipped the stick and I'm watching the dye. No. That's not a line. That's a trick. Let the test do it's thing, then check it. But that looks like a line.
Okay, go see what Mischa's doing. Wait a few minutes. Now check again. And that's a line. Not even a faint line.
Someone's in there.
3 weeks, 5 days. EDD September 1st.
I posted a pic on Conception After (and later felt bad about it because I always hated looking at other people's bfps). I joined the Expecting After group and the September DDC on MDC. I put a bunch of pregnancy books on hold at the library. I want to call the Dr and make an appointment but I might as well wait until after the holidays since they won't see me yet anyway.
3 weeks, 5 days.
I used my label maker and put my name in the little pregnancy tracker book that I got last time. I want to read things and tell people and fill things out. I don't know.
September 1st.
I hope this works out.
Josh came home for lunch and I managed not to tell him. Maybe I can wait until Christmas? Or Christmas Eve?

dead. that's where.

Walking out of Winco yesterday, I ran into a friend.
A friend I hadn't seen since June.
And here I am, obviously not pregnant.

"Where's the baby?"

The sad head shake. The awkwardness. Luckily, a cart full of groceries made for a quick getaway.

books.

Browsing in Cost Plus World Market, a little yellow book caught my eye. I picked it up. A little book of names and fortunes. 
I flip to her name.
"Willow," it says, "Proof that a difficult decision was the right one."

I can't forget.

Have I reached the statue of limitations on being weird and sad?

I have absolutely no desire to make small talk with people who don't know we lost a baby. And I really don't want to talk to people who know but never said anything.

I want to wear my heart on my sleeve.

"If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift." ~Elizabeth Edwards

forlorn.

Josh says to me today that I look forlorn. I tell him I'm no more forlorn than usual.

Mischa took an hour and a half to fall asleep. I managed to stay awake but Josh was already in bed when I came out and he was asleep within a few minutes.

So I laid there, crying for a few minutes. Laid there a few minutes more. Then decided to get up for a little bit.

I feel like I'm getting to the point where people are starting to think I should be over it.
But I'm not and I never will be.
My daughter died. But to the rest of the world she's just some baby that was never even born.
That sucks.

babyshower.

Terrie walked me out to the car after the babyshower last night.
I told her I hadn't known if I was going to make it. That I drove around the block a couple of times before I parked. She asked how it was.
I said, "It was okay."
What else could I say? It was fucking torture.
I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to play games, I didn't want to watch Rhonda open presents. I think the only thing that helped was that no one else seemed to be having a super great time either. I think it was just the mix of people maybe. A few of us with kids already and some of Rhonda's friends from high school who aren't near having kids. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me.
Rhonda sat there under her umbrella with little sparkles hanging down and I just wanted to leave. But I was sitting in the middle of the living room with Mischa.

I didn't cry. I guess that's something.

And I didn't take an ativan. But only b/c I wanted to get drunk when I got home. But then I fell asleep with Mischa and didn't wake up until 10. Josh was asleep by then, so I didn't even get to talk to him.

One of the girls there was Rhonda's babydaddy's brother's babymama - so, Rhonda's sister-in-law, I guess. Her baby is the same age as Adam. She was saying something about the more the baby's daddy denies them, the more they look like him and told Rhonda it was good that she wasn't breastfeeding, even though she did. Her kid kept trying to drink out of Mischa's cup.

It was okay. I won a prize for guessing how many candies were in a plastic cup. I won the cup full of candies.

Terrie gave me the angelbaby bracelet she got me. When she walked out to my car, she had her hand in her pocket, so I knew she had something for me. She asked if we were trying again, or actually she asked if we weren't trying and I said no, we were, it just wasn't happening. She said some things like "It'll get better" and "When the time is right" but I'll forgive her for that.
I wish she'd given me the bracelet when I first got there. I think I would've felt better. Maybe she was worried about me crying or something.

It was okay.
I guess it was okay.

Cujo and 5 months.

I think I wrote about this already, but I was thinking about it on our stroller walk today.
In the book, the kid dies. Because that happens sometimes. Sometimes kids die and there's nothing you can do about it. Even when you try, the kid still dies. The mom is beating the dog to death, and the dad shows up and says, "How long has he been dead?" You turn your back for a second to kill a rabid dog and your kid dies. Life is fucked.
But, hey, we can't make a movie where a kid dies. That'll bring people down. Kids don't die. And if they do, we sure as hell don't talk about it.
Well, fuck me, my baby died and I just wanted to watch a movie where a kid died and I can't even have that.

It's been five months. I listened to my deadbaby songs playlist while we walked. In case you're wondering, it's just titled "Songs" on my Zune. And I thought about my deadbaby and walked and waited for my livebaby to fall asleep.

Yesterday at the zoo, we're getting off the carousel and Susan's putting Benny in the stroller. She freezes. Then, "Ohmygod," she says, " I couldn't feel Katie breathing."
Oh, hey, my baby really is dead.
I started reading the memorial plaques that are stuck to almost every single thing at the zoo. She might've found it a little morbid. And I said something like "more people need to die so we can get more stuff here." Oh, I hope I don't make her hate me.

Rhonda's baby shower is tonight. I need to finish her gift.
I don't want to go.
But I guess I'm going.
Hey, yay, you're having a baby girl. Congratulations. My baby is dead. Deadbaby, deadbaby, deadbaby. My baby girl is dead for five months today. Happy fucking baby shower.

Five months. Am I supposed to be over it? I'm not.

We were talking about Christmas last night. Josh isn't getting the forced vacation he usually gets. I'm disappointed. I mentioned wanting to go to my parents and he told me he was only getting Christmas Eve off. I'm dreading everything about Christmas but I was looking forward to getting to spend some extra time together. And now all I get is another miserable holiday weekend at the in-laws where no one says a single thing to me.

Hey, I'm not over it. I'll never be over it.

and I'm not drunk, either.

Tuesday. I sat next to Nikki at storytime. She doesn't look that pregnant yet. The first time we met, she was huge, just days before Sophia's due date. It was awkward and I just wanted to get out of there but I didn't want to be rude to her. Sophia's looking like a kid.
I fell asleep with Mischa last night. Woke up at 10:30, she woke up around 11:30. Cried a lot during the night. Woke up when Josh was in the shower, but went back to sleep and we slept late and didn't leave the house all day. And today is only Wednesday.
I want this week to be over. (This month. This year.)

Made a FB friend. A girl from Something Awful. She terminated for skelatal dysplasia in 2006. Took her over 2 years to get pregnant again. Nice to have a deadbaby friend but shit, that's depressing. I already feel like this isn't the month for me.

Fuck it. I'll just wait till February and have another November baby.

Reading some posts on BBC. Kids with spina bifida. Yes, curiosity killed the cat. Oh, and I killed my baby. She could be here. She could be okay. Well, not okay. She would've had spina bifida. Surgeries. A shunt. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. But, still. I can barely handle a deadbaby. How would I handle a sickbaby? And it could've been bad just as easily as it could've been good.

 At least I could talk about it. People would ask.
Some people do, of course. Plenty of people worry about me and ask how I am (although it's fewer and farther between). It's my family that is lacking. I want to say, "Hey! My baby died! I do not want to eat turkey! I do not want anything for Christmas!"

A friend says, "You look good!" and I want to say, "It just goes to show - looks can be deceiving."

What I meant to say, coming here, was:
Thursday - that's tomorrow - is Concious Parenting. I think they met a few times in July and then stopped and now it's starting again. Sara's facilitating. Even if it was Joanna, I don't think I'd go. Highs? None. Lows? Still the same - deadbaby, deadbaby, deadbaby. So, fuck it.

Computer's almost out of juice. And I am, too.

Thanksgiving.

On Thursday we had our little Thanksgiving, just Josh, Mischa and me. It was nice. I lit a candle in Willow's candle holder for a little bit.
Friday we went to the in-laws. There was a birth announcement sitting on their counter. I kept flipping it over but someone kept turning it back around.
I already didn't want to be there.
Then the night ended with Josh getting in a big fight with his mom and we left.
Saturday my sister-in-law and family were coming. I dropped Josh and Mischa off over there and went shopping for a few hours, then I went over there.
Flipped the birth announcement over.
Had Thanksgiving dinner. Sat down and saw the birth announcement was turned around again and it was directly across from where I was sitting.
It was an okay weekend, I guess. It's over now and I'm glad. Not looking forward to Christmas.
His mom had called me about a bedroom set she'd seen advertised in the fitness center there. I took down the number but didn't call. Then Josh said I wouldn't have liked it anyway, it wasn't what we wanted. So she asked if we wanted a headboard for Christmas. I just said no.
I want nothing for Christmas.
Also, I refused to take any leftovers home.

her name.

Her name is also a word. So I run into it other places. The most commen usage being Willow Creek. There's a place near my parents called Willow Creek. Willow Creek Road. The old Willow Creek schoolhouse.
Of course, the trees. Not common here, but there are Desert Willows at the zoo.
And Sarah Palin's daughter is named Willow. The cover of the National Enquirer today - Willow Palin's pregnancy scare. "She's only 16!" it said over the picture. Sarah Palin is one of my least favorite people. But I really like the name Sarah, too. Oh well.

I found the list of baby names I was making when I was pregnant. Willow is on it, of course, although I wouldn't have used it for a living baby.
Another name that made the list - Anemone. I don't know what I was thinking.

I was thinking about Leslie. Her baby was named Jake. I wonder if that will be hard for her that it's such a common name.
I should call her and see how she's doing.

still.not.pregnant.

I don't want to look at anymore positive pregnancy tests.
I don't have one and I don't want to see anyone else's.
Sour fucking grapes.

Approaching 5 Months.

Very soon my baby will be dead longer than she was alive.
Does that mean I'm supposed to be over it?

Weekends.

Saturday night.
I came out of Mischa's room and Josh was already in bed. A light was on in the kitchen and the sliding glass door was still open, so I went to close them.
And a candle was lit in Willow's candle holder.
I blew it out and went into the bedroom.
"You left a candle on," I said. He was already half asleep.
"Oh, I thought you'd get it."
"Yeah. I did," I said.

But I never know what anything means.

Saturday before Mischa went to bed -
I forgot to take my bracelet off. The purple one I made with the beads I bought for my DDC birth bead swap. So I took it off sitting on the floor with her and she wanted to pretend it was a baby snake. It was sitting on the floor between her chair and her potty when I took her in for a bath.
Sunday morning, I go to pick it up and it's gone.
"Did you pick up my bracelet? The purple one? It was on the floor right here." He just looks at me. He never knows what I'm talking about anymore.
"If it was on the floor, I picked it up," he says. But he doesn't remember. He doesn't know where he put it.
A bracelet with purple beads. He has no fucking idea.
And now it's just gone. Is it in the toys? Did the cat take off with it. No idea. I can't find it. It's missing.
Yesterday we went to the zoo and I wore a pullover sweatshirt, so I didn't bother to wear my watch or my necklace but now I need my jewelry.
So I guess I'll get a flashlight and start dumping out some toys. I wanted to look last night but, again, he was in bed when I got out of Mischa's room and I didn't feel like being up by myself or leaving him in bed alone.

fuck Holidays.

Sitting at the mall with Susan and baby Katie. She's telling me about Shaun's grandma asking if Katie had a Christmas dress.
A few minutes later she apologizes for talking about Christmas dresses.
It's okay, I say. I hadn't even thought of it.
Then she apologizes for bringing it up.

I pulled Mischa's Christmas stocking out the other day. "Baby's First Christmas" it says. I guess she can use it again this year.

There will be other babies. There will be other Christmases.
But fuck this year.
This year I just don't want to do it.

FedEx brought Gerbera Daisies.
Signed Hugs, Michelle and Quint.

Today.

Today was my due date.
But I guess now it's just a day.

I don't think we're going to do anything. We haven't talked about it. I wrote it on the calendar. Willow's due date. Last night he said, "I don't understand these weird things you wrote on the calendar." But he was talking about some numbers I wrote to record what the caterpillars were doing.

This morning I took Mischa to the Fall Family Festival. Of course, I saw a lot of people I know. But Joanna and Susan were the only ones who know what today is.
I stopped at the JFK Hospital booth and one of the ladies gave me some little things. She said, "I don't know if you're pregnant..." and something about the flyers for hospital tours and a breastfeeding clinic. Then she gave us a little goodie bag with baby shampoo and stuff. I don't know why that didn't make me cry.
I put my little pink and blue ribbon in my pocket as we were leaving but then I forgot to pin it to my shirt. That bothered me more than anything.

Now Josh and Mischa are sleeping. I lit a little candle in the candle holder and the big one.

Last night I got some fresh flowers.

I took Mischa for a stroller walk around the block and found a horse shoe.

And now FedEx is here.

A terrifying thought.

I will never forget this.
For the rest of my life I will have a deadbaby.

I lit a candle this morning.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran

And here we are.

Is this for real? Did this really happen?
Did I really sit in that doctor's office and listen to him say all those things that were wrong with my baby? Can that really be my child in that urn?
No. That's just not possible. It seems like none of it's real. Like none of it ever happened. Maybe it's still June 29th and I'm having a bad dream. I'll wake up in a few hours and we'll go to our doctor's appt and everything will be okay. There will be no "discrepancy in the measurements". No Level II ultrasound. No doctor with a serious face saying words I don't know. No deadbaby. No funeral home, picking up the remains, buying flowers, avoiding friends, crying in the car. No tiny footprints.
No fingernails so fucking small.
No spina bifida. No ventriculomegaly. No clubfeet.
I don't want a deadbaby.
If this one had gone just like Mischa's did - and I know there's no reason it would've, but if it had, tonight I would go into labor. She'd be born tomorrow. We'd take her home on her due date.
We'd take her home instead of lighting candles.
We brought her home on July 13th. Four months before she was due. In a small (but probably not small enough) gold box.
No. This can't be for real.
(Please tell me this isn't for real.)

Butterflies.

The butterflies are making chrysalids.
So that's something.

It's Wednesday. Saturday is my deadbaby due date.

I am going to replace the phrase "when we lost the baby" with "when we lost Willow." I am going to say her name outloud. I keep telling myself this.
But she's not lost. I know right where she is. I can see her. In a little box on a shelf next to the tv. Right here in the living room.
I panicked a little before we brought her home. I didn't know where I was going to put her urn. I didn't think I had anywhere in the house that was appropriate and I didn't know if I just wanted to put it away or keep it out. Then I decided on the cubby hole next to the tv. So I had to clean it all out. We used to keep the video games there and every so often I'll see Josh start to set something down there and then stop.

Hey. My baby died.

I've never been great at making new friends. I'm painfully shy. But I could do it. And I wanted to.
And now.
My baby has been dead for 4 months. It's is part of every thought I think. Sometimes I say it, sometimes I don't.
Nicole had a playdate at her house today and a girl came that I had never met before.
She asked if Mischa was my only one. Yes... that true.
We were talking about pediatricians and I was saying how we hadn't found a new one. And part of the reason for that was that I had been pregnant. But I didn't say that. Then I regretted it.
Then we were talking about in-laws. And then I did say how things had been harder with them since I lost the baby.
Just a few minutes after that we all left.
I want to say "Hey, I was smart and funny and could carry on a conversation but then my baby died and now I'm a wreck."
Or sometimes I just want to say "Hey, my baby died."

I'm going (maybe) to Ria's on Friday. Megan invited me to come back pies with them. Ria has Cat's footprints on her arm. I asked her about them and I wanted to say I want to get something like that for my deadbaby. But she doesn't know about my deadbaby and I didn't know how to say it.

in the car again.

Mischa was too tired to sleep in the car on the way home from playgroup. She said
"You can't find it.
It's gone.
You can't find it.
Not down low.
Not up high.
It's gone."

Oh.

in the car.

On the way from the Farmer's Market to my in-laws yesterday. I usually go to the Farmer's Market early to avoid running into people, but it didn't work out that way.
And all I could think was
"I'm not okay.
I'm not okay.
I'm not okay."
So I pull up to the gate at my in-laws and hold out my permit for the security guard. He says
"You're alright.
Have a nice day."

Oh.

buying candles

We went to Walmart today. I bought a pack of 50 tealights, a little heart shaped candle holder, and one of those tall white candles in the glass. I wanted a pink one but the pink ones all had Jesus on them.
So I've got some candles now.

Ready for another...

Did I write this yet?
Playing in the front yard with Misch a few weeks ago, neighbor guy asks if we're ready for another.
I just said yes.
Because I am.
So fucking ready.
It was okay. I didn't cry or anything.

There was a time somewhere in the last 4 months where I would think of Willow and smile. That I was just overwhelmed with love for her. It was early, I think.
I'm sadder now.
I'm not as sad as some. I didn't fall apart. I could still smile and laugh.
I remember Stephanie said something about that once. That she didn't know how I could do it.

I don't know. I feel more hopeless now. I thought I would be pregnant by now.
I think I'm too depressed to write anything coherent. Just these quick notes, that maybe I can use someday to put it all together.

fuck Similac.

I've been expecting something in the mail, so when I saw the key to the parcel box in my mail box I got excited.
And there it is. A big box of Similac for my dead baby.
I've been getting little letters and junk and it didn't bother me. Maybe because I wouldn't use formula anyway. Maybe because I could just throw them in the trash.
I was already a little sad because I'd decided to write Willow's due date on my calendar. I kept looking at the empty square. No plans for that day anymore.

And just to add insult to injury, Jackson's closed at 111. I was on my way to Target when I got the mail.
And the detour goes right past Forest Lawn.
And Aladdin's Florist had a big sign out front that said $199.99 Funeral Special. That part didn't make me said, but what the hell?

Also, tried to watch some sad movies... or I should say the movie versions of some sad books. Lovely Bones... I watched half yesterday and decided to just send it back instead of watching the rest. Cujo... the kid doesn't die at the end. Of course not. Because everyone knows that kids don't die.

And if they do, nobody talks about it anyway.

Jackie Kennedy quote...

'I have been through a lot and have suffered a great deal. But I have had lots of happy moments, as well . . .The good, the bad, the hardship, the joy, the tragedy, love, and happiness, are all interwoven into one single indescribable whole that is called life. You cannot separate the good from the bad. And perhaps there is no need to do so, either.' -Jackie Kennedy

I cried so much yesterday.
I went to Susan's in the morning. I'd already been feeling down this week.
I came home and cried.
Then after Mischa went to sleep, I came out and curled up on the couch. Josh asked if I was okay and I said no. And I cried and cried. And Josh cried, too. I curled up in his lap and his tears fell on me.
He told me I can talk to him but I never know what to say.

Christmas

I don't want a bunch of pointless gifts. My baby is dead. I just want everyone to leave me alone and let me be sad.
I just want to cry.
This should be Baby's First Christmas not deadbaby Christmas.

Anger is part of grieving, right?

I wasn't angry at first. Of course not, I thought, who would I be angry at?
Now I am.
I want to scream, slam doors, break windows.
I want to chew on glass.
Crash my car.
Start a fight.
I want to watch things burn.

And I don't really know what to do with all of this.

I wanted my kids to be 2 or 3 years apart. Then 2 seemed really close although I felt a little disappointment when I realized I'd missed my chance for 2 under 2. Then I thought I might be pregnant. Then I thought I wasn't and I though next month would be better. A December baby. Two years, three months apart. Then I found out I was already pregnant. A November baby, 25 1/2  months apart. And I thought 6 months from now would've been better.
That would've been a May baby. And now we've missed the chance for that. And a June baby. And a July baby.
August baby?
September baby?
I can't think that they'll be more than 3 years apart. That seems like forever. Too long.
I want my baby now.
Please.
I said please.

These things happen.

Running into someone you haven't seen in months when you should be 9 months pregnant. And her eyes go right to where your baby should be.
Luckily you don't have time to talk.

Before I forget

There are so many things I want to write about, things I forgot to write about. I wish I'd written more in the early days, so I'll try to write more now.
I need to write about the funeral home, the first day we went in, picking up her ashes. Being in the hospital.
What else, what else?

Baby's First Christmas

Not in this house. You don't buy Christmas presents for a deadbaby.
Well, you shouldn't.
But I did.

I'm okay with baby clothes. I understand that people other than me still get to have babies. But the Baby's First Christmas with the little deer on the onesie... well, that was a little too much. I went to Target with Terrie today and we were getting some stuff for Mischa and Adam. And there it was. A whole endcap of Baby's First Christmas and the sweetest little stuffed deer. So I bought it. I guess, technically, it's for me. But... it's for her, too.
There were adorable little pink footsie pajamas on clearance. They had a little chick on them and said something about dreams. But you really shouldn't buy pajamas for deadbabies. Not even when they're on clearance.

Deer were her animal, like giraffes were Mischa's animal.
There was this blanket I almost bought back when I was still pregnant. The one with the little deer and the bunny. Part of the Eddie Bauer Enchanted Hollow set. So then there was a set in the JCPenney catalog with cute deer silouettes that I might have actually wanted if I'd decided to get a crib. You know, if I'd gotten to have a livebaby. I saw it again in the JCPenney catalog I picked up on Monday. And what's it called? Willow Organic. So my deadbaby's bedding set has my deadbaby's name.
Isn't that just the way things go?

Memory Box.

I got out the memory box. I needed the phone number for the MFM office. I knew it was on a card in the box and that seemed like the quickest way to get it. Under the hospital bracelets, u/s pictures, and other trinkets. With her diagnosis written on the back.
I want to call and ask about getting the pictures from my u/s. But after that, I didn't feel like making any phone calls. I saved the number in my phone and put everything away.

Searching

Many of us ask "When will I find peace with my decision?"
I made the best decision I could for that baby with the information I had at that time.
A different baby, a different situation, maybe a different choice.
That's as close as I can get to peace.

I don't believe that she was nothing more than "a clump of cells," some sort of pre-person. She lived inside me. She was my baby, my daughter. But now she's gone. Gone.  I don't believe that she lives on. We will not meet again in this world or another. She is not waiting for me somewhere out there.

If I could go back somehow and un-conceive her, never know her, would I?
On one hand, everything I experience is valuable to me.
And I love her. She existed and I won't forget her.
But if she hadn't? Could I have conceived a healthy baby later? I would've loved some other not-dead baby in just the same way and not had my heart broken. Maybe now I'd be 7 1/2 months pregnant with a living baby instead of 8 1/2 months pregnant with a baby who's not here anymore.

Some things are still growing

Josh bought me flowers for Mother's Day. They were bulbs that were supposed to bloom. Daffodils and tulips and some others. I wanted to save the bulbs, but I didn't know what to do with them. So they sat on the counter for a few weeks. Josh tried to throw them away but I stopped him. After a few more weeks, I decided that Josh was right. So I set them outside the back door with the intention of taking them to the trash later.
And then everything happened.
So they just sat there. A little bowl of dirt and bulbs. Then it rained. And a little green shoot came out of the dirt. Another and another and now I have a little bowl of green. I have something from before that is still alive.

Written on paper - July 1st

If Tuesday was day one, today is day three. Day one was our first ultrasound. The baby moved a lot so it was hard to get measurements, she said. It's probably nothing, but just to be sure... and we got the number for the perinatologist. I was a little scared but also looking forward to a better ultrasound. Going to bed that night I could feel the baby moving more than ever and I thought, "How could anything be wrong?"

Day two was our 2nd ultrasound. We left Mischa at Grandma's, mostly because I knew it'd be a long, boring experience for her. And also just in case there was some bad news. I thought they might have to send me for more testing. That there might be some tiny thing wrong.
During the ultrasound I could see the whole thing on a tv over the bed. I loved seeing all the parts of my baby.
But I saw the cyst on the baby's back. I knew something was wrong. I told myself I didn't know what I was looking at. But I saw it.
Eventually she finished the pictures and measurements and went to get the doctor. The first thing he asked me was if I'd had the AFP test. Everyone kept asking me that. I'd seen my file when I was checking in and it said in big red letters No AFP. I said no but he asked again and started to explain what it was. I said, loudly, "No, I did not have the test."
He looked through everything the tech had marked and then looked at the baby some more. His head was in the way and I couldn't see the screen anymore.
Then he told us what was wrong and showed us the pictures. He explained everything but I only remember snippets. Little pieces of his voice are clipped out and saved, but everything else is blurred. The one that sticks out the most in my mind, the one that keeps repeating in my head is "bilateral club feet." Maybe because everything else was so much worse. And "not mild." NOT MILD - capital letters - the expected level of brain damage would be NOT MILD.

At the first ultrasound I saw the feet on the screen and I said to Josh, "It has feet." I love the feet.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't ask any questions. I wanted to yell at Josh, "Ask something!" But he didn't know what to ask, he didn't know what we needed to know. Finally he did ask what our options were. Code words for tell us the ways we can end this. A clinic for a D&E or he would induce me. He didn't know if my own doctor would. He wrote some of the important words on the back of his business card, gave us the number of the clinic, and told us that he wanted to see us in two weeks if we chose to continue the pregnancy.
Finally I really started to cry. I asked for a picture of the baby and Josh was holding one. I said I just wanted to go home. The tech walked us out through the back door.
I forgot to ask if it's a boy or a girl.

So tomorrow night my OB is inducing labor. In the meantime, I'm waiting with what feels like a perfect baby inside of me. Every time I feel a kick I think of his bilateral club feet.

This morning I woke up before Mischa while Josh was still at work and googled some things. You have to scroll down past all the smiling people in wheelchairs before you get to what spina bifida is. To what will happen to my baby. Surgery 24-48 hours after my baby is born. Paralysis, shunts, brain damage. The kind that is NOT MILD.

I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. Josh talked to the doctor for me. All I know is we're going in some time after 4.

I don't know how to tell people. I called my mom. I got a voicemail at first and left a message for her to call me right away. So she knew something was wrong. I just spilled everything out. We weren't on the phone long and we didn't say much. That's how we are.
I called Terrie. She asked a few questions.
I called Joanna and asked her to tell Susan and the other girls. I knew Susan would be expecting to see me at Concious Parenting the next day and would probably call to check on me. I didn't know how to tell her.
Actually, it's not so much the telling. It's the rest of the conversation.

I am just very sad about this baby.

From my journal. Written between 7/4 and 7/7

I think it would be much harder if she were my first.

Mostly I'm sad for Willow. That she didn't get to be alive. That she had so many things wrong.

At first I thought she'd be stillborn. Then someone said there was a chance she could be born alive. I really wanted that.
I think the hardest part was after she was born and the doctor was asking if there was a pulse. The nurse had laid her on me and was checking her umbilical cord but there was nothing.

A letter

A lot of babylost mamas write letters to their dead babies.

Dear Willow,

You are dead, so you'll never get to read this. That sucks.

Love, mom

I don't think this is one of those things that will help me.

But there's also the real letter in my journal that I wrote right after she was born.

Dear Willow,

I'm so sorry this happened to you. I wish you'd had a chance to be alive.

I love you.

Public.

I've decided to make this blog public. Why the hell not. I deleted a couple of posts that didn't really make sense, edited a few, but for the most part these are thoughts and feelings as I had them.
I'll add some of the entries from my written journal when I get a chance.

Enslaved by Ducks.

I thought for sure I would be pregnant this month.
I was going to put a little slip of paper in Josh's birthday card. IOU one baby. To be redeemed July 2011.
But it doesn't look likes it's going to be that way.
So I'm trying to find this high pressure hose nozzle he wants. Searching Amazon. And there in my search results is a book. Enslaved by Ducks. There is also Outdoor Cleaning with Pressure Washers: a step by step guide.
The Water Jet. That's the one I'm looking for.

It's a season.

I wanted to get the Hallmark Always Remembered 2010 Christmas ornament. It's a seashell with a pearl and says "Every life leaves something beautiful behind."
I went to the Hallmark store at the mall. They had it. I picked it up. I even took it out of the box and looked at it.
But wait...
Willow didn't even have a life.
And I put it down again.
It is a season of disappointments.

Could be...

I could be pregnant right now.
On one hand, I would love to be able to tell Josh I was pregnant for his birthday.
On another hand, my edd would be the first week of July.
Also, I just want to be pregnant already. The sooner I'm pregnant, the sooner I get to have another baby.
Am I ready to be sick and miserable again?
No more ativan.
I wish I was 8 months pregnant now.
(I need more hands.)

Visiting Katie

I went to visit Susan and meet Katie today. She was born Thursday morning.
I held her while she slept.

The subject of prenatal testing came up. Susan said she would carry to term, even for a fatal defect.

If I'd had a healthy baby, I'd still be pregnant. If we'd kept Willow, she'd probably be born by now or very soon. But we probably wouldn't have named her Willow.

....

Just got back from a (failed) stroller nap.
It wasn't raining.
Then it was sprinkling.
Then it was raining a little. I thought "this is nice. I feel like rain."
Then it became a downpour. The wind was blowing and I was drenched. Soaked. I couldn't even see. Rain was blowing into my eyes. Huge fat drops falling in sheets. My shoes were full of water.
I was walking huddled against the wall, trying to stay out of the rain so I could see.
Laughing.
"Picked the wrong time for a walk," my neighbor said.
Fucking hilarious.

Monday

I walked into playgroup this morning and right away Jenny asked if I was okay. She said I looked a little down.

Then Megan came right before playgroup was over. She had a gift bag with her and I was thinking I could really use a gift. And it was for me! The book she uses with her support group and a prayer shawl from a program the church does.

When we got home, Mischa was asleep, so I just sat in the car and read and held the shawl. The yarn is a medium pink with a thread of dark pink. I love it.

Also, I had a ton of deja vu today.

Ordered some more books...

and I'm re-reading (again) Our Heartbreaking Choices.

Order Confirmation from Pineapple Press

Jessi Gdmn

Thanks for shopping with us today!
The following are the details of your order.
------------------------------------------------------
Order Number:
Date Ordered: Friday 15 October, 2010
Detailed Invoice:

Products
------------------------------------------------------
1 x A Mother's Dilemma = $12.95
1 x A Time to Decide, A Time to Heal = $9.95
------------------------------------------------------
Sub-Total: $22.90
Table Rate (Best Way): $5.00
Total: $27.90

telling people about pregnancy - a BBC post I made

telling people about pregnancy - Termination for Medical Reasons - BabyCenter:
I know a lot of women say they wish thay hadn't told anyone they were' pregnant, that they dread the 'un-telling.'
I just wanted to share my experience. I hadn't told a lot of people I was pregnant. Not b/c I was worried about something bad happening, but just b/c I'm a private person. I liked savoring my little secret. I liked telling people in person, so I never made a big facebook announcement.
I had really bad morning sickness, so I didn't get out much in the first months. I didn't see a lot of people, and a lot of people didn't know I was pregnant.
There were a few people who had just found out at the end of June, which lead me to getting some congratulations in the days after our tx.
It's been really hard for me to see friends who didn't even know I was pregnant. I don't feel normal, I don't feel like I can act normal, and I can't have normal conversations. I want everyone to know what happened to me.
I also have the problem of people who didn't know or who just found out I was pregnant assuming that 'lost the baby' or whatever they heard means that I had an early miscarriage.
And I definitely don't feel like I'm 'untelling' them. Being pregnant was something that happened, my baby was something that happened, and the termination was something that happened. I don't want to just erase it all.
When I'm pregnant, I won't be waiting for a magic number or a certain test result to tell people. In fact, I'll probably tell more people sooner b/c if something does happen, I'll need them to know.
I'm this isn't exactly what I mean or everything I want to say about it, but I just wanted to get it out in case any one else feels the same way.

Farmer's Market

We went to the Farmer's Market again this morning. It wasn't so bad.
Last week all I could think about was how pregnant I should be. My round belly.
This week a little girl gave Mischa two pennies to throw in the fountain. We ate a blueberry muffin. We painted a little heart and bought eggs, bread, tomatoes, cheese.

Where do I belong?

Sometimes I wonder where I fit in this online world of baby lost mamas...

I chose to end my pregnancy.
To me, when the doctor gave us the diagnosis, it was the same as him saying our baby had died.
But maybe not everyone sees it that way.
Because she was alive. I could have had her.
Except I couldn't. I couldn't keep her. For us, she was gone.
What else can I say?

Sometimes I'm just sitting on the couch watching Spongebob with Mischa and then I'm like, "Oh yeah, I have a dead baby."

A forums response

"My heart is with you. My brother was a full term worst kind of spina bifida baby. My mom didn't know until birth and was shocked. He lived 13 days with nearly as many surgerys as days alive. I feel a kinship with you and hope that you are expecting soon."

I've know plenty of women who have had abortions. My mother had one, I think. My sister had one just this year, right at the beginning of my pregnancy. My best friend in high school had two.
I just didn't think I'd ever have one. Not this late in the game.
28 years old. Married. Pregnant with my second child.
She was delivered by my OB in the hospital. I held her and loved her. Her tiny urn sits in our living room. We named her Willow.
I was 21 weeks pregnant when she was born. I chose to be induced after my baby was diagnosed with spina bifida.
I had an abortion.
I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed either.

An Explanation of Sorts.

How can I explain it? It's like having a second pulse. She's gone, she's gone, it says. It's like being pregnant with loss instead of my baby. Something else is living inside me. Something is consuming me.

Yesterday at the Farmer's Market with Mischa.
I should be huge. I should be hugely pregnant. Waddling around with my tomatoes and bread. Instead I'm buying fresh flowers. Because I like to keep some next to my baby's urn.

I missed my exit on the way to playgroup. It's okay. The usual drive is all billboards for Forest Lawn and spines. Some kind of spinal surgery center. One of them has a giant spine sticking out the top of it.

Three Months.

It's been three months. I am 6 weeks away from what was my due date. I am not pregnant. Not "still" or "again".

She is in my thoughts every second. It is like breathing. Like a heartbeat. Like something I am choking on.

I am breathing underwater.

Palm Springs man struck and killed by Amtrak train in Oceanside | mydesert.com | The Desert Sun

Terrie called me this morning to tell me that Roger died.

Palm Springs man struck and killed by Amtrak train in Oceanside
Desert Sun wire services • September 20, 2010
Palm Springs resident was struck and killed by a Amtrak train in Oceanside shortly before midnight Saturday.

The San Diego County medical examiner's office identified the 46-year-old as Roger Lee Bailey.
Bailey was attempting to cross the tracks by running under a closed crossing arm when he tripped and was struck at 11:56 p.m. Saturday by a train heading south from Los Angeles to San Diego, said Oceanside police Sgt. Travis Norton.
His body was thrown 'a short distance' and he was declared dead at the scene of 'multiple blunt-force injuries,' the San Diego County Sheriff's Department said.
The office says the 46-year-old Bailey ran under closed crossing arms, tripped and fell in front of an approaching Amtrak train. He died at the scene.
Sheriff’s Lt. Mike Munsey tells the North County Times that a woman with Bailey made it across the tracks before he fell.
Munsey says Bailey was carrying a beer and alcohol may have played a role in the incident."

The entire time I was pregnant with Willow, all I could think about was Mischa. I couldn't imagine really loving the new baby. I knew I would, I just couldn't picture it. Then we had the ultrasound. And, oh yeah, that's a baby in there. With feet. That only lasted about 24 hours. Then it was a baby with Spina Bifida. Soon to be a dead baby.
But now all I do is love my baby. Willow and the baby that hasn't even been conceived yet (or has it?).
Just like what I always read happens when a second baby is born. Suddenly the first is an older child. A little irritating. I'm a little resentful. Please, Mischa, just leave me alone for a minute. Just let me be with the baby.
What baby? There is no baby. There is a dead baby. And she doesn't need anything.

Bad week.

How's the baby?
Howsthebabyhowsthebabyhowsthebaby. Oh, you meant Mischa. I don't think of her as "the baby" anymore even though that's what she calls herself. "A baby loves momma," she says.
There's been another baby.

Allan Johnson died Sept. 4th.

I read a not-very-good book. I saw it at Walmart and just thought it looked interesting. Two little girls lost in the woods. One doesn't talk. Oh, but it turns out that she doesn't talk b/c she watched her baby sister be stillborn. And the town they live in? Willow Creek. And Willow Creek Woods and the place they play is Willow Wallow. So, one dead baby and my dead baby's name a few hundred times. I finished the book in two nights just so I could be done with it. (I couldn't just stop reading and leave those two little girls in the woods. I needed to know what happened to them.)

Night before last I cried and cried until I fell asleep. I cried and my heart ached. A literal pain in my chest. I wonder if that's anything like what a heart attack feels like.

What if someone you loved died and no one ever mentioned them again?

I am a face. Again.

Willow was born on July 4th, 2010. My second daughter. I was 21 weeks pregnant.

On Tuesday we went for an ultrasound. Maybe something was wrong. But maybe not, the nurse said.
On Wednesday we went for another ultrasound. There are some problems, the doctor said. Spina bifida. Hydrocephalus. Club feet. Brain damage, the doctor said. "Not mild."
On Friday we went to the hospital and I was induced.
On Sunday she was born. She had already died. We held her. We named her. We let her go.

I had a dream last night...

I had a dream that I was in a bar in Sutter Creek drinking Midori sours.
I was talking to an ex-boyfriend and he was asking how many kids I had.
"Scientifically," I said, "I have two."
"I mean... I've had two babies."

certified.

The fetal death certificate came today.
It doesn't have my middle name on it. That bothers me.
But it does have Dr Bernard's signature on it.
I think if it weren't for that, it wouldn't have made me cry.

WILLOW. Sometimes I whisper her name but I never say it out loud.

things people say...

What do I care what Kevin Nealon says on some podcast? Oh, he'd have his babies even if they were coffee pots. He doesn't even know what a coffee pot is.

This is how it began

I found out I was pregnant on March 13th. I was shocked. I had taken a pregnancy test about a week earlier and it had been negative. I started crying and asked Josh if he wanted to have a baby. He told me that he thought that was what we were trying to do.

I am a face.

I am the face of termination for medical reason.

June 30th. The waiting room of the matenal fetal medicine center at Desert Regional Hospital. I read some of my baby food book to see if it had any good snack recipes for Mischa.

I can't remember how I felt during the ultrasound. I remember seeing the cyst but that's all. I remember thinking it shouldn't be there but telling myself I didn't know. I knew.
I saw it. I knew.

I remember joking to Josh that we should make out when the tech went to get the doctor.

I remember hoping the doctor just had a serious face and that it wasn't b/c our baby had serious problems.

I forget what the doctor said. "They are some problems." I think that's what it was.

spines.

JT posted u/s pics on facebook. The baby's perfect little spine. Spines kill me.

I want my baby back.

This was weeks ago but it's still bothering me. Liz sent me a card that said "thinking of you" and wrote something in it about Mischa being so great while she was there. I forget. I threw the card away.
What about my dead baby?
When we went swimming over there no one even asked how I was.
Like our baby wasn't dead. Like I wasn't in the hospital for 3 days.
Liz kept saying things about what they'd done when Mischa was there and how they'd had fun and all that. Like we were on vacation or something.
When we dropped Mischa off and we were leaving, Mike said something like "Have fun, mom and dad." Like Mischa was saying bye to us so we could go on a trip. I didn't say anything. I don't know if I should have but I wish I had.
Deadbabydeadbabydeadbaby.

"Just give me medicine. Prescribe me anything..." Alkaline Trio

Thinking today. What if we'd kept her. I wonder how bad she would've been.
Maybe we could've had the in-utero surgery.

We did the right thing.
But still.

I wonder things.

Sometimes I wonder which one of us she would've looked like when she grew up.
But I guess that isn't going to get me anywhere.

Mostly we stay home or we go out alone. Maybe we'll go visit a friend. No groups. I tried going to the Baby Signs class at the library. That was after two weeks. It was awful.

Like the volume got turned up on the deadbaby static that is always in my head. The thing that makes me want to say "oh, my baby is dead." Like when the cashier at Albertsons cards me after I forgot my license at home. Sorry, can't buy the whiskey. Oh, that's okay, my baby is dead. Deadbaby static. Like everytime someone says how cute my new haircut is and I want to say "oh, I cut my hair because my baby is dead." It's been over a month. The static is turned way down, but it's still there. I guess it'll always be there.

I hope it is. I deserve something to hold on to from Willow.

Mischa's sleeping on the couch now. Josh is in the shower. Time to type. Time to read babyloss blogs. I want more books. Novels or memoirs.



The wheelchair boy I saw at the mall was at Target a few days ago. Still holding the same baby toy.



Rhonda's having a girl. I saw first her status update and then Terrie's. Then later she posted this "n 1 kick reminds her she's never alone" and I hid her from my wall. She wanted a girl but I was hoping she'd have a boy.



Susan's having a girl. And Sara's pregnant, too. I may never go back to CP. Highs and lows? High... What? I remembered to take both my handfuls of vitamins? I haven't taken an ativan all week? And lows... deadbabydeadbabydeadbaby. Oh, you have morning sickness? Deadbaby. Your baby isn't napping? Deadbaby. Nicole's due this month. Susan and JT. Sara. Too much.



I thought I wasn't going to be angry about this and I'm trying not to be. But it makes me want to puke. I don't want to hear about it.

Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope: Submit your story

Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope: Submit your story: "Your first name, your lost child(ren)'s name(s), and their date(s) of birth and death
Your city/state
Your blog address, if you have one and would like to share it
Up to 5 subject categories (for example, 'stillbirth,' 'early miscarriage,' 'NICU,' 'Pre-eclampsia,') that fit your story.
Your email address, if you are open to having other women contact you with questions or for support"



I am the face of termination for medical reasons.

Jessi

Mom to Willow

July 4th, 2010

Indio, California



termination for medical reasons, stillbirth, spina bifida, 21 weeks, California



My daughter was born on July 4th, 2010. I was 21 weeks pregnant. Her hands were tiny and perfect. Her feet were clubbed but she had perfect little toes. She had died just before delivery.



She was due in November. I had plans. I would have a two year old and a newborn at Thanksgiving.



On June 30th we found out that she had spina bifida, hydrocephalus, club feet. There would be brain damage. She would never walk. She would need shunts, surgeries.



This was not a fatal diagnosis. This was our choice, to let our baby go.



I was induced and her heart was beating the last time the nurse checked her. After she was born, my doctor asked, "Is there a pulse?" There wasn't.

Josh and Mischa went to Home Depot. I'm home alone. Not something that happens often. So this is my chance to write things down... but of course I can't think of any of the things that were on my mind last night.
I got my period. Haven't talked to Josh about another baby yet. Been thinking about it every night.
Last night Mischa was playing with a little hat and it was too small for her. He said something about it being for the next baby.
He cried the other night while Mischa was in the bath. I caught him b/c she wanted to come out and use the potty. Also, he punched a hole in the wall, so I guess I would've seen that eventually.
I got a copy of my u/s reports from Dr Bernard. I asked him and he said that the girls up front would print them for me and then when came out of the room he had just finished printing them. They don't say much but at least now I have slightly more information than I did before.

1 Month, 1 Day

Yesterday was one month. This has been sitting open all day and I can't really think of anything to say.
Had my OB appt. Got a copy of the ultrasound reports.
We went to the Yardhouse for dinner.

In the morning I took Mischa to the mall to play and there was a kid there in a wheelchair. He was maybe 8 and he just sat there holding this baby einstein toy while his little brother played.

I don't believe in angels.

Wednesday will be August 4th. One month since...
I don't know what to call it. One month since Willow was born? Since she died?
Most moms on the boards and blogs use the word "angelversary". They call their babies their angels and talk about them being born into Heaven or growing their wings. They think about their babies playing with puppies on Jesus's lap and running through fields of flowers with their dead relatives.
I don't buy it. Willow is dead, she's gone. Maybe she's some where in some way but I just don't see her swaddled up next to God.
She's not my angel, she's just my dead baby.

I am the face of an interrupted pregnancy.

I will write this.

Lost.

I lost my baby.
Those are not the right words.
She isn't something that I set down somewhere and forgot about. She didn't fall out of my pocket and get knocked under the couch.
I'm not going to find her if I just keep looking.
I am the one who is lost.

Took Mischa to the park this morning.
Pushing her on the swing, I thought, "Willow never could have done this."

grief.

I feel very alone in my grief.
No one else knew Willow.
No one I know has been in this situation.

I held my baby in my arms. She is so very gone now.

Talked to Susan yesterday. Told her exactly what happened.

Had my teeth cleaned yesterday afternoon. Had to tell the hygenist that "I was recently pregnant" because my gums were bleeding a lot.

Last night I had a regular nightmare. I've been having bad/sad dreams about being pregnant, but this was just a regular nightmare.

nothing & nothing & nothing

I took Willow's urn out today. Just to hold it in my hand. It feels so light, like it's made out of nothing and there's nothing inside. I would open it if I knew how. I guess you're not supposed to. So I just hold it and turn it over in my hands and look at the label on the bottom where it says her name and age - Willow Goodman, baby.

I asked Josh if he was still sad about the baby. He said, "In different ways." I don't even know what that means.

I just want to be left alone sometimes.
Everything is irritating me today.
Now everyone else is asleep and I can finally do whatever I want... but I don't feel like doing anything anymore.
I guess maybe I'll take an ativan and go to bed.

Physically.

I'm okay. My hair is falling out in handfuls. My skin has cleared up. It's been two days of no bleeding. I had a really bad cramp last night and I was worried that I was going to start bleeding again but so far I haven't. My milk never came in.
It's like I was never pregnant. That is so fucked up.

I cried last night for Willow.
She's gone.
Whatever she was, now she's gone.

So FUCKING Sorry

I really want someone to send me a card that says "I'm so sorry your baby is dead."
This is real.
Acknowledge my pain.

Called Dr and asked for Ativan. NP called back and had a painful conversation about whether or not I'm depressed. No, I'm not sleeping or eating. Yes, I feel depressed. IT IS BECAUSE MY BABY IS DEAD. I think it's a little early to be talking antidepressants.

My Pregnancy

I discovered that I was pregnant on March 13th. We were getting ready to go to San Diego for Jake's birthday party and I still hadn't gotten my period, so I decided to take another test. I'd taken one about a week earlier. It had been negative and I had been relieved. I wasn't quite ready to be pregnant. Next month would be better and I wanted a December baby, anyway.
So this test was positive. I started crying and went out to the kitchen where Josh was making Mischa's breakfast. I asked if he wanted to have a baby. He didn't understand why I was crying - he said he thought we were trying to have another. I hadn't been taking my prenatals very often, so I took two.
By the time we got to the party I was feeling better. I wanted to tell Nichol but there were too many people around.
We went to Plymouth for Easter when I was 8 weeks. The week before I started feeling some morning sickness. The day we got to Plymouth was the first day I threw up. I told my mom I was pregnant while we were there. She didn't say much at the time but a few weeks later she posted something on facebook and I knew she was getting excited.
I had an appt. with the NP at 12 weeks. Josh and Mischa went with me to hear the heartbeat for the first time. Mischa cried. I think it scared her.
My next appt. was at 16 weeks and I saw the Dr. This is the appt. where I declined the AFP test. I heard the heartbeat again.
I scheduled my ultrasound for 20 weeks and we would have an appt. with the NP right after. The NP appt. was for 2:20 but she didn't come in until 2:40. When she finally came in she said, "Sorry, sorry, sorry" for being late, I guess. And then she told us there was a problem with some of the measurements. A disparity between the size of the body and the size of the head and she would send us for another ultrasound. But it was probably nothing. The baby was moving a lot and the tech couldn't get good measurements. It was probably nothing. So we listened to the heartbeat. It sounded good, she said. As I was getting up she looked at me very seriously and repeated what she'd said about a disparity and it was this moment of seriousness that made me scared later.
We scheduled our next appt. and got the number to schedule the ultrasound with the specialist. I called when we got home and they gave me an appt. for the next day.
I started crying when we were getting ready for dinner. I remember saying to Josh, "I'm scared."
That night, when I was laying with Mischa, the baby was kicking so much. I thought, "What could be wrong with a baby that could kick so much?"
The next morning we dropped Mischa off with Liz. I didn't want to take her for a lot of reasons. One being that it would another boring wait, this time at the hospital, and I thought it would be too hard for her. This is the reason I gave Josh. The other reason was that I wanted both of us to be able to give the doctor our full attention in case something was wrong. And I didn't want her there if something was really wrong.

I had bought a few things for the baby. A onesie that said "Born in 2010" because Mischa had one that said "Born in 2008." A cream-colored SwaddleMe. I found the cute little deer blanket that I wanted to buy when I was pregnant with Mischa and figured out which set it matched. I was actually thinking about getting a crib and changing table. I was looking at double strollers and car seats. I ordered a cute little crocheted deer from Lauren.
I had some things that I was planning to make. A crocheted hat and blanket. A sling - charcoal and then I would get pink or blue rings for it. Cute little burp cloths.
I had started going through my baby stuff. Making lists of things I needed.

Now I'm going to make a tiny blanket with the rest of the monkey fabric I used for her blanket. And I don't know if I'll use the yarn I bought or not.

Loss.

I feel like I have experienced three distinct losses.
The first - the loss of the perfect baby I was dreaming of - was the quickest and the most painful. It started in Dr Steiger's office the moment he said, "There are some problems." Just like that, my mystery baby, the one we'd nicknamed monkey just the day before, was gone. This is the loss I cried the hardest for, sobbing and choking in the car, crying at night and waking Josh up. I think this is the loss that Josh felt the most. This is the loss I cried for feeling my baby kicking so strongly inside me (and I had thought just days before "With kicks like that, how could there be anything wrong!"). But how long could I grieve for something that never was? For the most part this ended when I went into the hospital.
The time in the hospital was a kind of dead zone. It was all medications and pain and very little room to think about the real world, what was really happening. I know we cried a few times, I remember Josh crying after the social worker came and I think I did, too.
The second loss I felt was the loss of my daughter Willow, so tiny and broken. Her nose looked just like Mischa's when she was born and her hands and fingers were long and skinny like mine (although this may just be because she didn't have any baby fat yet) with tiny, perfect fingernails. On the footprints the hospital gave us, her toes are perfect little circles. Sometimes I think about her and just want to hold her one more time, or somehow go back in time and be with her again. I wish I'd listened more carefully to her heartbeat that last time. This loss, the death of my daughter, will be with me always.
The third loss is the loss of my pregnancy and the timeline. The loss of my big belly, the jokes about the baby being Josh's birthday present. The thoughts of the baby at Thanksgiving, Christmas, the Fair. This is very painful now (I should be 23 weeks...), but will fade as these dates pass. Along with this I have some anger about losing those 4.5 months of hard work and morning sickness, the time I could have been enjoying with Mischa, and the fact that I started weaning her earlier than I was ready and we stopped breastfeeding when I went to the hospital. I could have nursed her until she was 2 like I wanted to if I hadn't been pregnant with a baby I wouldn't get to keep.
I want to get pregnant again as soon as I can. I know a lot of women don't want to bond with the next baby, are afraid to, but I can't wait. I want ultrasounds, I want to know the gender, I want a baby registry. I want to get back to that place I was finally getting to with Willow. The planning and loving, the anticipation.

Today I feel completely lost.

Mischa is watching cartoons. I made dinner in the crockpot. I put sugar in my tea.

And my baby's ashes are in a tiny box.

Picking up Willow's ashes today. Whenever Mischa wakes up from her nap.

"If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true..." -Jim Croce "Time in a Bottle"

Willow is being cremated today. I can't decide if I wish I was going to be there.
My daughter, my daughter, my daughter.

One Week.

It's been a week. How is that possible?
A week since our baby was born.
I tried to look at the pictures from the hospital today. And then I decided not to. I scanned the ultrasound pictures and the handprints and footprints.

She's being cremated tomorrow, July 12th. We'll pick up the ashes and bring her home the next day, July 13th. Four months too early. My due date was November 13th. Mischa was one day early, so I imagined that this baby would be, too. She'd be born on November 12th and we'd come home on the 13th.
And now that's not going to happen.

Maybe I'll make a tiny scrapbook with her pictures and her footprints and handprints. Something to hold onto. And I want to make a little blanket with the rest of that monkey fabric.

When Mischa looked at the screen at the ultrasound, she said monkey and Josh said that now that was the nickname for the baby.

I feel the same as if she would've died at birth. As if she would've died during surgery. But there is no scenario in my mind that does not include Spina Bifida.

I had thought about Thanksgiving and Christmas. That maybe we would just have Thanksgiving at home. At Christmas we would go to Wildlights and the baby would only be a month and half old. I had thought about taking Mischa to the zoo and having my little baby on my chest.

I kept telling Josh that the baby was his birthday present. That maybe she would be born on his birthday.

Am I Too Sad? Not Sad Enough?

I caught myself resting my hand on my belly yesterday.


Nothing there.








We went into the hospital at 7pm friday night to start the induction. Josh told the security guard we were there for a scheduled induction. She looked at me and I guess she thought she heard him wrong. I kept my sunglasses on until we got into a room. A nurse asked me if there was something wrong with my eyes. I got an IV, had blood drawn, waited. My nurse was named Frances but she wanted to be called Rusty. The first night I had Cytotec every 4 hours. I was exhausted and I slept. Contractions started after the second pill and they put me on the contraction monitor. Not much happened. In the morning they started the Pitocin. My nurse was named Lori and she wouldn't let me drink any water in case I needed a D&C after the baby was born. Still nothing happened. A social worker came to talk to us and I think this was when I found out that the baby could be born alive. Also, that the baby would probably be over 400 grams, so we would need to contact a funeral home. At some point after that, Dr Bernard came.

Yesterday I Was Pregnant, Today I Am Not.

That's what I kept thinking yesterday.
And now it's been another day.
My nurse on Sunday was the first one to check the baby's heartrate. I almost asked her not to. Now I wish I had listened more carefully that last time.
It made me so sad to feel the baby kicking when I knew we were going to lose her and now I miss it so much.
It's funny... since we didn't know she was a girl until after she was born, I have a hard time thinking of the baby in my belly as "she." They seem like two different entities. And I suppose they were. There's the mystery baby, alive and kicking in my belly (who I was sure was a boy), and then there's the little girl who died right before she was born. There's "the baby" and then there's Willow.