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.