And the saga continues...

I feel like we're on an episode of Jerry Springer or Montel as the situation just keeps escilating and I don't know how to get out of the middle.

Heather and the baby were kicked out of her mother's house. She is currently living with her girlfriend, her husband, and her newborn baby. But that's only temporary.

She's decided that she needs to give the baby up for adoption. And she came over for dinner last night and told us that she is going to ask her father if he would like him first, and if he can't take care of him then she would like us to have him. Her mother, Nathaniels grandmother, is unfit to take care of him. She is good to him, however she abandoned Heather and her brother when they were toddlers. Who's to say that she won't do it again?

I told her that we would need to go through the courts and make sure everything is legal. I couldn't bare for anyone to take him away from us. And it would have to be ok with everyone involved, even my family.

Nathaniel is such a dream to have around. He laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard in his life. He curls up on your chest to go to sleep, and he sucks his thumb because he's a bit insecure and he's teething. He drools more than any baby I've ever met, and can successfully ruin a nice outfit in a matter of seconds. I can't wait to have a baby in my life that when I close my eyes at night that is all I see.

When I called my mom to tell her, she was angry. Angry that I would have given my life to save my boys and Heather is just throwing up her arms because it's to much for her. She's worried that Derick and I are setting ourselves up for the biggest hurt of our lives. All of which we have considered.

Sometimes when I look into Nathaniels eyes I think he's Riley for just a split second. In my head, I know that he's not Riley. But my heart feels otherwise. Perhaps that is why I'm so torn in my decision. He will never be Riley, but it's very hard for me to understand at times. Even my mother in law said that at times she has trouble understanding that he's not her grandson. Sometimes she has to think twice that he's her nephew. He was born just 3 days after Riley's due date.

So to make a long story short, I cried myself to sleep last night. Heather's mother said that if she gave him to us that she would never speak to us again and that we didn't deserve him. Or something to that effect. It killed me because after all we've been through....we still don't deserve to have a child? Or he's just better than us? Maybe that's it. Maybe we aren't good enough to raise her grandchild. But regardless, she would fight it. And to be perfectly honest, I don't have the strength to fight it. I don't have the will to go to court and battle for my right to be a mother. I know I'm better than that. I know that I did everything I could for my sons. And I know that I would have given my life if it would have spared theirs. That I know in my heart, and I don't need to prove it to anyone. Especially not a woman who abandoned her's.

Now I don't know how to tell her that as much as we want to be a part of his life, he's better off with his grandfather. Unless, of course it comes down to him not having a home. But I would be much happier if I could spend a weekened a month with him, taking him shopping and to amusement parks, the movies, and to teach him how to play miniature golf. I would be much happier being his aunt and showing him the best part of the world, while his grandfather teaches him right from wrong and that every action has a consequence. I want him to be a huge part of my children's lives because deserves that. He deserves to have a family that loves him unconditionally. And that, to me, is the biggest job of an aunt and uncle. To love their nephew regardless of how messy his room is, how angry he gets at his parents, and how bad his grades are. That's what I want. That is the relationship that I want with Nathaniel.

Another is lost

Derick's cousin Heather had stopped talking to us. We couldn't figure out why. Until yesterday.

Apparently she didn't talk to us because she thought we wanted to take Nathaniel away from her. What? What in God's name would lead her to believe that we wanted to take him away from her? It made me feel like an awful baby-stealing freak!

So I tried to call her. No answer. We've been trying on and off to get ahold of her for weeks now about his baptism. She asked us after he was born to be his Godparents. We were so excited and it meant so much to us that we cried with joy.

Derick went over today and cornered her to talk to him. She claims that she's been busy. He asked her what we needed to do for the baptism and she told him that we were no longer Nathaniels Godparents. She's asked her friends instead.

We feel like we've lost another baby. Not that he was ours to begin with, or that he is even physically lost....but that he's gone out of our lives for good. Derick asked me to take the toys that we got him for Christmas. And he also asked that all of things that we gave her when he was born be returned. Clothes, a basinette, a boppy, toys...bottles...baby moniters...he wants them back. Nathaniel is no longer a part of our lives because his mother is to insecure with herself to even allow us to have contact with him.

What is wrong with us? Why are we not good enough? Did we do something terribly wrong or do we just not deserve to be a part of a child's life.

Poor Derick called me at work, in tears. He had such dreams for Nathaniel....fishing trips, football games, and buying him the loudest drum set that he can find.

Instead, here we are picking up the pieces of our hearts again.

Compelled to write

Today is a perfect day for writing. It's snowing outside, and just beautiful. I miss my boys terribly on days like today. I wonder if they would be catching snowflakes on their tongues.

Yesterday my Mom told me something rather suprising. Suprising, I guess, becuase I didn't think anyone else REALLY thought about us. My grandfather said something to her about Thanksgiving. He said, "How can I be happy and joyful for Alexa and the baby when I see so much pain in Becky and Derick's eyes?" He said that he's happy my cousin and her baby are coming in for Thanksgiving, but he knows that it's going to be difficult for the rest of us. It kills me that he has to know that babies die. He's such a loving, kind, generous man. And he adores all babies. But it just kills me that he lost his innocence as well.

Derick got a tattoo for the boys. When I find my camera, I'll take a picture of it! Lol! It's a cross, with blue tribal stuff in the background. At the bottom it says, "In memory of Dylan and Riley." He came home and showed it to me. Before thinking about what I was saying, I blurted out "Oh that's nice. There's even room at the bottom for the next baby." Yikes! It prompted a long talk with Derick and him trying, unsuccessfully, to get me to understand that we aren't going to loose any more babies.

Well...whatever....

How do you change a person's view on the way of life that they have become accustomed to?

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On another note, I've gotten most of my things hung up here. I attempted to do it myself last night, but after one broken drill bit and almost falling off of the step stool Derick decided he would help!

I can't believe we're home!

Last night as we were laying in bed Derick said, "We could put the bassenette here and the crib could go in the living room on the other side of the couch." I'm like, what? Are you serious? Haha, it made me feel good again to make plans about the future.

It's not going to happen

AF was 6 days late. One pregnancy test later...resulted in a very, very faint positive. Yesterday AF arrived. Heavy and strong, and not holding back. Was it indeed a BFP but it escaped before I could catch it? Or was it a result of looking at a test longer than the time window. Less than 10 mins, but still more than 3. Was it placed there just to make me wonder if we are REALLY ready? Or was it some evil trick to make me cry myself to sleep? Regardless, it was enough to do all of those things.

I am ready. I think. I want to have a child more than I want to breathe. But I'm scared. I'm scared that it's going to happen again. I'm scared that I can't take care of a child. But I'm more scared, I think, of what will happen if I don't have a child. I'm judgemental. I'm mean, bitter...angry. I'm hurt and I feel like I'm dying inside. I'm fake happy. I tell myself in my head that I have to smile now. It's a happy occasion. Even when I want to twist the neck of the person that is telling me how complete their life is with children.

I just can't take it. I cried all night last night. Derick says that we aren't ready. And he doesn't know when we'll be ready. I told him that when he says that I feel like it's going to be forever. That we aren't ever going to have children. He thinks that I'm crazy. And for a small moment, I blamed him. I blamed him for me being so unhappy. But it's not his fault. It's mine. And I can't get away from it. It will be my burden to bare for the rest of my life.

Someday we'll get there. I have no doubt. But I'm tired of waiting. I want it now.

October 15, 2007

October 15th is pregnancy and infant loss memorial day. Here's to you all and your sweet angels!

I got this poem today, maybe some of you did too.


A Pair of Shoes"

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Author unknown

I'm heading home to light my candles, how about you?

Sweet boy

My Dear Riley,

Today was the day, last year, that we found out you were on your way. Daddy and I were beyond excited. You were our hope and our future. We loved you from the start. I would tell you stories about your brother watching over you. Daddy would rub my belly and I would get upset because I didn't want you to be overly tickelish like I am. When we had our first ultrasound, I cried. Grandma was with us. We were all so excited.

I miss you, my sweet. More than you could ever imagine. I needed you in my life so badly, and you were, just different than what I expected.

I'm sorry that I wasn't able to provide for you the way I had wanted. I hope that you were happy and comfortable inside my belly. Because you sure were loved.

Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. Not a second that I don't miss our talks. And believe it or not, I still imagine that I feel you kicking strong and happy. The doctor's call that phantom kicks. I don't know how long they last, but they are still going strong. And my heart skips a beat everytime I feel it.

I love you baby, more than you will ever know. Have a great day with the angels today! Be nice to your brother, and tell Mimi that I love her.

Sweet dreams,
Mommy

It's official

We've started trying.

I'm terrified, ecstatic, and nervous all at the same time! We'll see where life takes us, I guess. But I just talked to my boss, as I was nervous about telling her about the surgery. And she said that she appreciated my honesty and was glad that I told her and gave her the heads up. They will put me out on salary continuation (short-term dissability) but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Because realistically, I could already be pregnant or it could take 4 years. Who knows? So if it takes a while, it's not going to matter anyway. But I just wanted her to know where we stood. I feel happy that I talked with her.

I don't know where the next few months are going to take us. But I know that I'm onboard for the ride. There's no getting off now!

Decisions shouldn't be this hard

God willing, I will ovulate this weekend. Or at least that's how my cycle used to be.

But I'm stuck. I don't know why. These decisions shouldn't be this hard. I want more than anything to be pregnant again. But I'm so afraid that the fear is clouding my decisions. Why am I so afraid? I'm afraid that if I get pregnant again my families opinions will be flown at me quicker than I can react. I'm afraid that if I get pregnant again, I'll have an early miscarriage. And if I do make it, what about the surgery? I'm terrified of the surgery! Not so much of what's involved....more so of the pain. Which is rediculous. I would absolutely take physical pain every day for the rest of my life to avoid the pain of loosing another child. I just don't do well in hospitals. I'm scared to be there by myself. I just don't like them. I feel like everytime I go into one, someone dies. And it's a feeling that I just can't get rid of.


I went to the doctor today because I've been feeling like shit. I thought I had the flu, or something like it. Turns out that it's just a God awful sinus infection. I had to get antibiodics. And right on the label it says not to take if I'm pregnant or thinking of becoming pregnant. Great. I should have mentioned that to the Doc. But I wasn't thinking, I guess. Do you think I'm safe to take it? The chances of it happening on the first try are slim. I'm deffinately not expecting it. Although for whatever reason, I have a history of getting pregnant while being very sick. With Dylan I had Pneumonia.

Well anyway...on the upside of things I bought the Knifty Knitter. I saw someone at the airport with it last weekend and I knew that I needed to get it. It's fantastic!! I already knitted a scarf and it only took me about 3 hours. So I bought some new baby yarn. I had some stuff left over from Riley's blanket, but I explained to Derick that was for him. Dylan's is burried with him, he was rapped in it. But I haven't been able to pick up Riley's blanket since last winter. I just can't do it. So I'm determined to finish this whole blanket....and USE IT for our baby. It's going to be great! I'll post pictures when I'm done : )

I think I've made up my mind

Last night my mom, her twin sister, and I went out to eat. I was so down. I've had such a dissapointing week that when things like this happen, I become very, very low. I've been taking my Zoloft almost every day for a week now because I'm so stressed out and anxious. I feel the anxiety building and it's unnerving.

So anyway, we dropped off my aunt and stopped over at my Grandfather's house. My Pop has always been a signifigant person in my life. He's just an amazing man. Always able to look for the positive in a really bad situation. He's not very good with words, but what he says and how he relates things make sense in a really weird way....he loves to joke with us, give us advice, and he was there for me when we lost both of the boys. He sobbed with us, prayed with us, and even led the Our Father at both of their funerals.

He mentioned while we were there that he got a card from my cousin, Lex. She gave birth to her little girl on August 19th and named her Olivia. But at Lex's baby shower, she made a BIG point to go on and on about how Olivia was the first great-grandchild and I literally wanted to puke. I was so disgusted and hurt that she forgot. In the card from Lex, he said that she thanked him and went on to say that she wishes that our grandmother were here to hold her and see her. Then he said that my aunt is going to parade the baby all around at Thanksgiving when they come home and that she wants a 4 generation picture. My aunt is very understanding, and she's really great...but she doesn't truly get it. And it's not that she hasn't tried, but it's impossible to understand unless you've been there.

When we got home, it hit me. I need to try for a baby now. I'm nervous about it, and scared about it...but I'm also excited about it. I need this. I'm afraid that Pop won't be around to see my child if I wait. And I know that sounds rediculous, but I really want him to see our child living and breathing and laughing instead of so much sadness surrounding me. I know that other's have their opinions. And I know that we still have a lot of work to do on our lives. But we won't ever be ready. We will never be completely out of debt, we won't ever be completely secure in our jobs or in our lives....but the only true happiness that we have is another child. And that's what we need right now more than ever. The living situation and the debt situations will work themselves out. They always do. We've handled the worst thing that could happen to parents, twice. We can most certainly handle this.

The Consult

I appologize to all who care about my lack of information on my appointment! I've been so busy with work and such that I didn't even have time to update over the weekend!!

The appointment went amazingly well...

I was so nervous that I made myself physically ill in the hours leading up to it. When we got there, he greeted us warmly and made us feel like he understood why we were there. He explained the procedure and said that given the information that we knew with Dylan he would have proceeded with Riley's pregnancy the same as my regular OB did. That was comforting. He also said that he has a very high success rate, even with a history of PROM. He said that he did a study on women with a history of PROM, 3 of 4 carried to term with the TAC with no problems. One PROM'd at 18w but since the TAC was so tight it didn't allow the water to leak so she carried until 32 weeks and that child is now just over a year old. Along the same lines of the TAC being so tight, it does not allow infection to set in. Not that it couldn't, but in the 20 years he has been performing this operation he has not seen any problems.

Then he did the ultrasound. It showed that pre-pregnancy my cervix measures just around 2cm. The 'average' cervix is usually between 5-6cm and they consider 3 to be short. Granted, there are many women that have no cervix at all...so I'm a bit better off than them. However, he was able to put his finger through my cervix almost into my utuerus. That was worrisome...either it didn't close completely after delivery or it was never closed to begin with. We probably won't ever know. Probably has never closed after delivery. He said that knowing that he would prefer to place the stitch around 10w instead of the regular 12-13w. Not just because it's short, but leaving it open could let in a major infection...not just for a growing fetus but for me as well.

He is very, very confident that I will be able to carry not just one, but as many pregnancies as I want with the TAC in place!!

Derick and I over the moon ecstatic!! Now it's onto deciding when a good time to start trying is. Of course everyone in our lives has their own opinions and they aren't shy about voicing them. Particularly my family. So when we straighten out OUR lives we are going to move forward. We hope to be straight by November or December : )

A few more months...

Derick and I had a chat last night. I was complaining how the birth control screws up my cycles so much that I don't even know when to expect AF. He told me that I didn't have to take it anymore if I did't want to. What?! He said for the 3 times that we have sex a month we can use other alternatives !!

But it's only for August...one month and 10 days until we can try again! One more month and 10 days until I'm actually doing something.

And only one month and 10 days until I'm petrified, irrational, and fearful of every cramp, ache, twinge, lack of naseau, lack of breast aches...yikes...when I write it all out I wonder why I would ever want to go through that again. The lack of control, the unknowing, the constant worry, fear, unanswered prayers...

Why would anyone put themselves through that? Simple. Because I need to have a child more than I need to breathe. I can't even begin to imagine what it is like to hold my own child to my heart and listen to him cry. Or watch him squirm and giggle...it must be the most incredible feeling in the world.

Only a few more months and this will be all over...this relentless worry...it will all be in vain. And this time, next year, God will bless us with a baby. And if it happens to be that it is not a child of my own womb, it will be a child of my own heart. The very baby that I've been wating rather impatiently for. Impatient only because I have so much love to give.

Am I moving forward?

I wonder if I am making any progress. Some days I feel like I really am, and then others, like today, all I can think about is the boys. What would they be doing? Dylan would be talking and eating solid foods. Riley would be crawling around after Lilo on the floor.

I wonder if I'm not moving forward the way I should not because of grief, but because of the trauma that I experienced both physically and emotionally. Is it just to much for me to handle? When I had Dylan, I nearly died. That was huge physicall trauma. When I had Riley, I lost all of the faith that I had in ANYTHING. I lost the faith that I had in myself, in life, in my doctors, in the medical field in general...everything, it seems, except for my faith in God. When I thought that all was lost, He was the only thing that I clung to. Mostly because I didn't have anything left. When Dylan was born, I shunned him wondering how he could do this to me. But with Riley, it was different. I didn't have anything else left except for Him.

Is it possible to be so traumatized that a person wouldn't want to move on in their life? Because I feel as though I'm griefed out. I miss the boys every second of every day, but I understand that they are there and I am here. I understand that things will never be the same again. Yet the fear of the past, the emotional and the pysical trauma, are keeping me from moving forward. That fear is what keeps me from being able to be positive about another baby. That fear is what is holding me back. How do I get past something like that to move on?

Don't you need to be a Mom to wear a mother's ring?

Derick bought me a beautiful ring for Mother's Day. We finally picked it up on Friday. It's white gold with Dylan, Riley's, and Derick's birthstones on it. They are marquis cut, seperated by diamonds. I adore it!

I wore it to work today and proudly showed everyone around me. Heading to the bathroom, I ran into another girl at work that knows 'our' story. When I showed her, she said "Don't you have to be a Mom to wear a mother's ring?" I felt my face turn red. I muttered, "It's for the boys." and I walked away. She immediately felt bad. I knew she did because I could see it in her face. But I felt bad. It made me feel stupid. Maybe I shouldn't be wearing a mother's ring. But it's beautiful and I love it. I want to wear it. And when people ask about it, I will tell them why I'm wearing it. It's for my boys. I AM a mother.

Two down

Two babies were born within 10 days. I'm in overload...

Derick's cousin, Heather, went into labor on June 13th. Her son, Nathaniel Alexander weighed 7lbs 9oz and was born on the 14th. Just three days after Riley should have been born. I wonder often if Riley would have been born the same time...it would have been fun for cousins to share the same birthday. It just should have been different. Things should have been so different...

Friday my sister in law called from Florida on vacation. Her sister, due at the end of August was having some problems and they admitted her to the hospital. Her son, Landon Jacob was born via c-section on Friday weighing 4lbs 6oz and very healthy at only 32 weeks.

Suprisingly...I'm ok. When I hold Nathaniel I feel a this connection with him that I can't explain. I feel like I have an outlet for those primal urges that I didn't have before. It's refreshing. But it makes me want to have another baby so much more. I long for the feeling of life inside me.

Sondra, probably the only person in my life that understands. She understands if I don't feel like talking or if I don't answer the phone or call her back right away. She understands when I need to talk, when I'm happy, scared, or just sad. She celebrates with me when things go well, and cries with me when things don't. She called me today to tell me that she was expecting again in January. I'm truly happy for her, and although I still think about the boys...I'm more bummed out that I can't be pregnant with her right now! I know that the time will come, and we will be...but that's October!! It seems like so far away. It seems like in the next 3 months....yes, only 3 months....things will completely change and something will happen and we'll be pushed back another 3 months or something. I feel like in only 3 months things could blow up in my face again and we'll be back where we started. So I would rather start now and avoid the possibilities of everything falling apart.

It also doesn't help that my period has been so screwed up. It seems like almost monthly, even though I'm on birth control, my period is off by a few days. I get my hopes up, even though I know it's virtually impossible, and I'm let down when it comes. It's a horrible game that I play wiht myself. It's just neverending.

Cruel Irony

Perhaps the most cruelest irony in life is the ability to take care of a child, but without actually having a child.

I say this because upon looking at a baby shower registry today, I came across the oddest things for a newborn baby shower. Granted this is her first child...but I was unaware that newborns needed silverware. Yes, you read correctly. A fork and a knife.

I was under the impression, maybe it's misguided, but I was under the impression that children...babies...can't even grasp their hands around things like silverware until they are toddlers or even later. This coming from the same girl who intended on buying shorts for her baby due in August. Shorts. NEWBORNS DON'T WEAR SHORTS!

Sorry...the yelling is done...

But the point is that I am sitting here dreaming of a child someday. A child that might not even be mine, but that I will love with all of my heart. And she is there dressing her child in shorts and teaching him to use silverware.

In other news...

Dr. Davis called me last night. I have an appointment with him in September for a consult on the abdominal cerclage. It's pretty exciting! He did say that since we know that my cervix is incompetent, he wants to know what's making it incompetent. The best that my regular OB could tell from doing the vaginal cerclage is that my bladder is misproportioned (much like the rest of me!). But maybe there is something to be done otherwise. I was very impressed, as was Derick. And I can't wait until September. We have to go to Philadelphia...or Camden, NJ actually. But it will be so worth it. He said that he will do multiple ultrasounds and tests while I am there to see exactly how incompetent my cervix is and get measurements while I'm not pregnant.

Derick and I also came to an agreement about trying again. Shortly after his teenage cousin showed up from college 8 months pregnant, we discussed when we would try again. We both agreed that as long as we had things worked out with the doct0r (accomplished) and that we are in our own aparemtent (almost there) we can try again in October! I'm so excited! I feel pretty confident, although still slightly hopeless. I've come to realize though that those feelings of hopelessness might not ever go away.

We also had discussed my ill feelings towards baby showers. I decided that I would rather have a welcome baby shower. Derick agreed. He thinks it would be to much for everyone involved to have a regular baby shower. Although I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel cheated. Blah. I hate these feelings.

When I think about myself at this time last year, it's scary how far I've come. This time last year I couldn't function like a normal person. I cried and screamed and sobbed all night long. I clutched onto Derick in fear that I would loose him too. And now...now I'm different. Not a bad different, I guess. But so different. In fact, I just read in someone else's blog about the song "The Dance" by Garth Brooks. The line that goes something like "If I'd have known all the pain, the way it all would go...would I have missed the Dance?" And I do think a lot about if I had known the pain, would I have even gotten pregnant? Would I have rather loved and lost than not loved at all? Would I rather struggle with infertility then not be able to carry a child? A very good friend of mine is struggling with this currently...and when I talk to her I always wonder...would I rather struggle with what she is dealing with or struggle with this? My answer is that I would probably rather have infertility problems. But I bet if I asked her, she would rather have a baby for a short time. It's interesting. I guess that's where all of these cruel ironies come in to play. Both come with their own sense of pain and grief, and esentially there are ways (albeit expensive ways) to have a child...and all could probably be 'cured' through surrogacy and adoption...I think that had I known the way things would turn out, I would honestly not have had Dylan in the first place. Although I still would have went to see Dr. Davis and gotten the abdominal cerclage in the begining! But my boys are my world. I live and breathe for them because they wouldn't want it any other way. And someday, when I look into the eyes of my newborn baby, I'm going to wonder what I would have done without those sweet baby eyes staring back at me.

Dylans 1st Birthday

My Sweet Darling,

I cannot believe that one whole year has passed since I kissed you last, held your tiny fingers, and stared in amazement at your tiny toes. I'm sure that you are having an incredible birthday in Heaven, and I can only begin to imagine what that is like.

Daddy and I were talking tonight, and I told him that I don't even remember how we made it through this past year. It came with so much pain, but an incredible amount of love. Love that I didn't think was possible until I met you.

When I think of the short 17 weeks that I had with you, it doesn't seem long enough to have forged such a bond. One that will carry with me through the rest of my life and on into another life. You are my baby, my son. And absolutely nothing could change that.

I have learned so much in the past year. Lessons that I didn't think I would need to learn so young. But I did. And I grew strong. One year ago today I didn't think I would survive this. Yet here I am...proudly telling everyone that will listen the story of my angels. How two very short lives changed my life so profoundly.

Perhaps someday I will 'see' the big picture in all of this. Perhaps there is some grand scheme and I'm just waiting for it to unfold. But I can only pray that you will come back to me someday. Because I miss you so much more than I can put into words. My heart still and always will ache for you to be near.

I hope you are having a wonderful birthday up in heaven. I can't begin to imagine what your cake tastes like or how magnificent the gifts are. But please know the gifts that you have given me are more than you could ever believe.

I love you with my whole heart and soul,
Mommy

I did it

So I did it....I sent Lex an email....here's what I wrote....


Hi!

I have sat down so many times to write an email.

I'm so happy to hear that things are going so well for you and your little girl. I pray for you both every night. I know that it's not easy to be experiencing all these things so far away. Especially for your mom! But your doing great!

I honestly haven't known what to say. I'm so conflicted because I'm so happy for you and Jim, but I'm so sad for myself. I wish that I could have been there for you more in the begining...when everything is so scary and new. But I didn't know how to be because I was dealing with so much that I couldn't even be there for you! I'm so sorry for that!

I'm sure that you don't remember this, but at Cappelletti's you were the only person who said anything to me about Dylan. I wanted so desperately for people to ask me. To say something...anything...and you did. It's something that I will never forget. It meant more to me than you could have ever imagined. I feel like sometimes it's the elephant in the room that everyone is trying to avoid. I wanted people to ask me about his birth, or acknowledge that he existed, or to acknowledge that in every way physically...I was a mother. And you did that for me. What you said wasn't a lot, but it meant the world to me.

And the funniest thing is that when Aunt Annie told me you were going to name the baby Alexander (when they thought it was a boy!), Derick and I had decided shortly before Thanksgiving that the baby, if it was a boy, would be named Alexander. When we found out how things were going to work out, and he was a boy, we decided on Riley James so that he had his own name. So when Aunt Annie told me, Mom and I laughed a little, and then when we found out it was a girl...we laughed a lot because Pop was so excited. I think he think's he's cursed with all girls! But I guess great minds think alike!

Well anyhow....I just really wanted to write and see how you were doing. Mom said that you have been seeing a Perinatologist and I wanted to let you know that if you had any questions I've done the research. And if you have general questions, I can answer them too. Although I haven't been that far along...I was 17 weeks with Dylan and just 16 with Riley...I've read ALL the books! Lol!

Oh, and by the way....when the time comes for me...God willing...I'm going to need help making it through the end of the second and third trimesters! I'm going to rely on you to answer my dumb questions! Ok...and really if the time never comes...and I end up with Japanese kids (Derick says we are going to adopt from Japan because they are much smarter than our own biological kid could be) I'll need help getting them to sleep through the night. And since you've already been there....lol! My mom and your mom are great, but they were pregnant with newborns almost 30 years ago!

Ok, well I gotta go and get to bed. I'm working now in Fogelsville so I got a commute and with traffic I gotta get up early. You and I both know that I don't get up well.

Talk to you soon,
Lots of love!Becky

P.S. what are you going to name her?


That's nice...right? My therapist thinks it will do me some good. And I think that it did too.

So here we are....

What a horrible weekend. My brother and SIL came over on Saturday morning. She was in a mood, but he was happy to help Mom with some things around the house. I got held up getting some errands done, so I ended up going with mom to drop my cousin off at school for a function. His mother is the one with cancer.

Anyhow, we picked him back up from school but stopped off at home to let Lilo out. The mail had arrived. Sitting on the front steps were free samples. From the sidewalk all I could make out was the free razor. Under the free razor was the tiny Huggies sample that they send to all mother's nearing birth. There were coupons galore, lotions, and wipes. Begin panick attack.

I grabbed the mail, walked into the kitchen, and sorted through it. There was an envelope, with my name, from my SIL. I opened it, somewhat happily, until I saw what it was. A baby shower invitation. For HER sister. To begin with, I didn't think I would be invited. And you would have thought, since I told her that I can't do baby showers, that she would have understood and at the very least said something to me that morning. And if not me, she could have warned Derick. I was devestated. I through it in my mom's lap and yelled, "How could she do this to me?" Then I proceeded up the steps, into my room, and the full blown panick started.

I called Derick and he was on his way home from work. Mom intercepted at the front steps and explained that it was a bad day. He came in, asked me to take my pill, and then he listened to me talk. I was doing ok. Really, I was.

Until the third part of my panick began.

Brother and SIL came over again later that night so that Derick could help him with a few things. My mom and I had gone to a few yardsales in between dropping off Dan and picking him up. We came across a brand new infant tub for $2, baby t-shirts, and a fisher price toy for $2. It didn't occur to me that they wouldn't be bought for my baby...someday. Until SIL showed up and mom passed them on to her to give to her sister. I wanted to scream, "Those are for MY BABY!!!" But I couldn't because I don't have a baby.

Mom went upstairs and came back down with a bunch of brand new baby clothes. They were Riley's. My son's. THEY BELONG TO HIM! SIL went on and on about how cute they were and how cute they would look on him. One in particular that I had gotten for Riley was a halloween one with candy corn and it said, 'I love my Mummy.' After he was born I would go into the closet and touch it. I felt close to him. The close belong to him. But Mom gave them away.

Luckily, I guess, SIL forgot them at the house and I offered to buy her new ones to replace Riley's. I explained to Mom that I needed them. She thought that it was to difficult for them to be around for me, so it's not like she did that on purpose. But I needed them. I needed to know that they were his clothes. His belongings. That he really did exist....the only physical proof that I had. Mom said that she would buy me new ones. I told her I didn't want new ones. If I couldn't have those, I didn't want any.

This morning all the clothes were on the table but the Halloween one. That's the one I desperately wanted. The rest weren't special....but that one...I close my eyes and see his tiny feet kicking in them.

What a crappy weekend.

Family

Pop's 80th birthday party is rapidly approaching. It's being held in July. I'm worried already.

Since the last time I have seen the majority of my family, pregnancies have been announced and babies have been born. I'm starting to feel a bit resentful of things. I hate this feeling. How come their babies are here safely and alive? Are they going to ask me about it or just brush it under the rug? Or are they pregnant and just as afraid to talk to me as I am to talk to them?

What happens when an otherwise close family gets this wedge placed between them?

It's the big elephant in the room. Everyone sees it, but no one wants to talk about it. No one wants to hear that my babies died, although I want desperately to tell them about it. No one asks what they looked like, but I want so desperately to show them their pictures. And no one even asks what their names are, but they are my sons.

Are they afraid to upset me? That's not the case. I can talk about things much more freely than I have ever before. Are they afraid to bring things up because they don't want to admit that babies do die? As if admitting that babies die would somehow jinx their own family. Are they happier believing that bad things happen to people who deserve it? Maybe. But if that's what they think of me than I don't need them in my life anyway.

The bottom line is that they are still blissful. Death hasn't touched them. They don't feel as if a black flag is hovering over their home as it is mine. They are innocent. Believing that babies don't get sick and babies don't die. Yet that isn't even close to being true. Because if it were, I would have a complete family. Not a heart with holes in it.

So my question is this....how do I get past that resentment to be able to embrace the new children and be happy for their families? Obviously it's not something that will happen overnight, so I need to start preparing myself now. Start working through these things. It's not something that I want to pass along to my children. I don't want them to live their lives with a mother who is still emotionally hung up on the fairness of life and the impact that it has had on my life. I don't want to be their burden because I can't take care of myself. I don't want to be Derick's burden because he got stuck with a wife who can't carry a child. He was cheated out of the family that he deserves. My body is MY burden. But I need to learn to deal with that now because if I let it go, it will fester and ferment and in 10 years I will still be harboring these feelings and it's liable to tear my family apart.

Two more weeks

I can't believe that in two weeks a whole year will have passed since I held Dylan last. When he was born I inspected his face. Perfect. Tiny ears and a tiny nose...a tiny chin and tiny lips. I'm afraid that I'm forgetting what he looked like. How can I forget? It makes me sad to think about, but I know that it's inevitable. It happens as life moves on. But a mother isn't supposed to forget the face of her firstborn. It happens, I guess, in the process of life, but knowing that in advance doesn't ease the feeling.

I find myself thinking about how we are going to spend his birthday and those thoughts lead to tears each time. Desperate, crippling tears...the sort that lead to long sobs and a racing heart.

Derick and I spoke about it today. I'm having trouble talking about it. We both thought it would be best to take the day off, so we did. We think that we will go to the cemetary in the morning with Birthday balloons and a note to send off to heaven. I'm so sad to think of him spending his first birthday in a place without his parents. After the balloons...we are drawing a blank. It has to be something special and perfect. But there aren't any books on how to celebrate your dead child's first birthday. For some reason, no one wrote a manual on that. And yet it seems to be the single most painful event in a parent's life following the death of their child at any age.

I get frustrated, at times, because Derick seems to not want to talk about things. Or not that he doesn't want to talk about them, but he feels that if he does it's going to make me sad or cry so he avoids it. And when I bring it up, he changes the subject quickly. It's a routine that he's fallen into. And I don't know how to get him out of it. I hate it though. I want him to talk to me about things. I want to hear what he says, I want to be able to cry. Sadly, the routine that I've fallen into consists of crying in silence in private. I'm afraid to cry about most things these days...things not even related to the boys. I'm just feeling very alone in my grief lately and I want him to be able to chat with me and listen, not just hear, what I have to say.

I started a journal. It's a special one that I found with the word 'Hope' on the cover. I've started writing to my future children. If that makes sense. It's a way for me to share with them my feelings, my grief, the love that I have for them already, and the love that I share with their father. It makes me feel good to be doing something beneficial in the world of a mother...plus it will be good reading when they are adults! Hahah!