Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Why is returning to my old life so hard?

I have been wrapped in this cocoon world of grief the past 2 1/2 weeks.  The real world of responsibilities and interacting with people that don't know my life has been broken into a million pieces is now staring me in the face.

I care for my 86 year old Grandmother, she has Alzheimer's and lives in an Assisted Living facility near my home, but I am responsible for her.  I pay her bills, take her to appointments, buy her clothes, worry about her.  I have been doing these things for 4 years now.  It is a lot of work.  It is a lot of stress.  Especially now that the Alzheimer's is stealing more and more of her away from me.  Grandma was in the hospital earlier this month.  She became combative and AL could not deal with her, I had her sent to the ER and she was admitted.  She had two infections (bladder and C diff), both which can worsen Alzheimer's symptoms.  Shortly after her going to the hospital I became really ill, vomiting and diarrhea.  My husband and I were terrified that something could happen to Grace, I was tested for C diff, but my culture came back negative, it was just the stomach flu.  I vowed that I would let my husband help more with my Grandmother and be easier on myself.  I could not afford to get sick, especially if it would hurt the baby.  Then 2 weeks later Grace dies, of nothing that I could have prevented, of nothing to do with C diff or the stupid stomach flu.

Grandma has been in skilled nursing for 3 weeks and was discharged today back to AL.  I am still patient with her (she asks the same questions over and over).  I still love her, but being around her makes me miss my baby so much.  Grace made all the hard things in my life so much easier to deal with.  No matter how bad things got at work, with Grandma's health, with my father in law, we had Grace.  No matter what we had this precious baby and true joy, and could overcome anything.  Now that blanket of happiness, that cushion against the harsh realities of life is gone and I feel so alone.

I am worried where ever I go that people will notice that I am no longer pregnant, I am back at my pre-pregnancy weight again, in regular clothes so no reason that I would still look pregnant.  I worry they will think that I had Grace and she is alive and well at home, then I will have to tell them that she died and not completely fall apart at Assisted living or the grocery store, etc.

I want my life to change, I want to have a screaming baby keeping me up at night and dirty diapers and chapped nipples.  I cannot go back to the way things were before.  I don't fit inside my old life any more, and trying to hurts.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The most perfect 32 weeks of my life

Today has been hard... I was thinking about how the time I was pregnant with Grace were the best in my life.  I was so happy, feeling her move and growing within me I felt so connected to the positive forces in the universe.  She was such a miracle, so perfect... I feel so blessed that she came into our lives.  I am greedy and I want more time with her, like a lifetime.

I wrote to the photographer from the hospital and he said that I should have her photos by the end of the week.    That was the highlight of my day.  I was so worried that something had gone wrong and the pictures were missing.  I can't even describe how important those photos are to me.  Seeing her beautiful face and remembering those blissful hours we got to spend with her I need to hold on to.

God I hope that I get to be pregnant again someday.  Not that anything would replace my Grace, but just to feel that connection to another being again, to the universe again.  To feel alive again.

Monday, February 27, 2012

First Day on my own

Today was the first day my husband had to go back to work since Grace died.  I was really worried about being alone today, but I did alright.  God I miss her so much though.  The pain has been less raw and intense for the last few days, just this deep aching sorrow.

I have been thinking about all the things I wanted to teach her and show her, and all the experiences both good and bad that she will never get to have.  I think about how perfect she was and how much she was loved and wanted.  It makes my heart sick for her and for my husband and me.  Why her, why us?

Sunday, February 26, 2012

My baby's 2 week birthday

Today is my baby Grace's 2 week birthday... or it should be, but she is not with us.  She died in my womb at 32 weeks gestation of a true knot in her umbilical cord.

 I dreamed of having a baby for so long.  My husband and I battled with infertility and all the testing and treatments that take all the joy and happiness out of baby making for 2 years.  Then a magical vacation and we are pregnant, no injections, no follicular ultrasounds, no clomid or femara, just our love for each other.  My pregnancy was perfect, just some nausea in the first trimester.  I was healthy and you were growing well.  I think I may have been the happiest pregnant person alive.  I remember thinking that even though I had always just wanted one child, that we may have to do this again just because being pregnant was so amazing and I felt so alive and connected to this baby I carried.

It took 4 ultrasounds to find out for certain that you were a girl.  Again, another dream fulfilled.  Although I would have loved a boy, I had always dreamed of having a little girl.  We thought about names and made plans for future holidays, how we would raise you... but mostly we talked about how happy we were that you were joining our family.

Now you are gone and my body is healing, but my heart is still in a million pieces.  No one talks about stillbirth, like most of the stories I have read we thought like other babyloss parents that once we were past the first trimester we were safe, and then once we were in the third trimester it was completely safe.  We have learned that life is so fragile and happiness so fleeting.

I am so grateful for my wonderful husband.  Without him I think that I would be a puddle on the floor, my tears and grief melting my person into nothing.  Together we are holding on, sometimes barely, but holding on nonetheless.