Infertility: The Elephant in the room

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Sad

I was feeling okay for most of today, but then I checked my e-mail and there was a message from an old friend who was checking in.  I hadn't written to tell her that Grace had died, I hoped she had seen my post on Facebook, but she had not.  So I had to write and tell her.  The sadness just hit me life a giant wave.  I wanted to be writing and telling her how excited we were to get to meet our daughter soon, not to have to tell her that our baby was gone.

I also keep having the strange sensation that I am still pregnant.  I feel her inside me still.  I want to be pregnant again so badly.  I am so afraid that won't happen.  I have not written in detail about our struggles trying to get pregnant... I plan to soon, but needless to say that getting pregnant with Grace felt like a miracle.  Will lightening strike twice?  Can I ask for another miracle?  Is it true that once you have gotten pregnant it is easier?

My darling Grace I just wish that you could be with us.  You are always in my heart, but I would give anything to hold you again.

Grace Bear

When I was in the hospital we had such wonderful nurses and doctors, but one in particular really helped us start to learn how to grieve.  Her name was Lesley.  She gave us books and other literature on baby loss, arranged for a photographer to come, arranged for the Chaplain to come and speak with us, etc.  She also gave us a stuffed bear.  She said that a previous baby loss couple were given a bear and they called it the Braydon bear for their son who was born still.  A few months after their loss they donated a new bear to the labor and delivery unit for a future couple who had lost their baby.  Lesley brought us this bear, she said that this could be our Grace bear.  I had not slept with stuffed animals since I was 13, but I have slept with the Grace bear every night since Lesley gave her to us.  When I delivered Grace, I held her with the Grace bear.  I tried to visualize Grace's spirit going into the bear, so that a part of her could come home with us.  I hold the bear at night and dream that it could be my baby.

Grace and the Grace bear

Yoga and Tears

Yesterday I went to a yoga class for the first time in a long time.  I used to religiously go to a yoga studio, but then I got into an awkward situation with my instructor and I stopped going.  I missed the practice of yoga, so I went to yoga at several different gyms, but none had the spiritual and meditative impact of yoga at a yoga studio.  A friend brought me the flyer for this new yoga studio in the first weeks after Grace died.  So I called my friend and we tried this new studio.  It was really emotional.  I cried during the beginning when we were starting the pranayama.  Then during all the meditative moments my mind went to Grace and I felt this deep sorrow.  I could just feel her on my chest laying so still, and I wanted to breathe life into her again.  My body went through the poses and I physically felt stronger than I had in a long time, but my emotional being was so, so sad.  At the end during savasana I just had tears pouring down my face.  I want to go back, my body felt better afterwards, but it was mentally difficult.

The rest of the day went by fairly gently.  I visited my Grandmother, who is doing much better.  I made dinner for Mark.  Then in the evening I was so prickly and sensitive.  I snapped at Mark while he was trying to book our summer vacation.  I know that it is good to have a trip to look forward to, and we need to get away from our lives for a time, but all I could think about was how I wanted Grace to be on vacation with us.  Mark wants to go back to Hawaii, not Kauai this time, but the Big Island.  I have thought so much about taking Grace to Hawaii where she was conceived, watching her play in the warm water, eating giant shave ices with her, falling asleep listening to the ocean.  I want her with us.  The yoga, seeing my Grandmother, vacation planning it all just came crashing down and I was sobbing like I did in the first days.  I can function better now, but I am still broken.

A few days pregnant eating shave ice

Postpartum Follow Up Today

We had our 6 week follow up today.  It went reasonably well, there was no one in the waiting room when we got there, and only one pregnant woman showed up while we were waiting.  Despite that good start I started crying before we even made it to the exam room.  The exam was normal, he said that I looked good.  The pap smear results should be back next week at the latest, possibly Friday.  Last Spring I had an abnormal pap, and had to have a colposcopy which was thankfully normal.  The plan was to have pap smears every 6 months, but I was pregnant with Grace so no November pap.  I am not sure that I could take any more bad news so please, please universe let me have a normal pap.  The good news was that in 1-2 cycles we could actively start to try and get pregnant again, and he said that we did not have to take any precautions against pregnancy in the meantime.  That office has some of the best memories of my life, I hate that it is so hard to be there now.

We came home and I was just exhausted.  The mail had photos from the hospital which I was not expecting.  They were very sweet with Grace in her little outfit from Threads of Love.  Then both Mark and I had a mini break down.  It was cathartic and needed after all the emotion from today.

Sunday Should Be

Sundays are hard.  It was the day that Grace was born still, the day that I had those few precious hours with her and then had to let her little body go.  Since then Sundays are hard, I miss her most on those days, and it doesn't help that I don't have work to distract me.  This Sunday is no exception.

Mark has been in a foul mood since last night.  We went to a birthday party for a friend and there were many babies and toddlers there.  We knew there would be, but we wanted to support our friends (their journey though infertility and illness is heartbreaking).  We hung out with adults, mostly from my work, and only really interacted with one child, but it was really hard especially for Mark.  Then we got into an argument on the way home, a really stupid argument involving stopping the car to get a stray kitten out of the road.  I insisted that we stop, he felt it was too dangerous.  We stopped, and then I was mad at him and I accidentally slammed the middle finger of my left hand in the car door.  Then he got really mad at me for injuring myself.  He is super protective since I was pregnant.  So now I have a smashed, bleeding finger and a yelling husband... great Saturday night.  BTW the kitten safely ran out of the middle of the road as soon as I got out of the car.

Ouch!

He apologized for being an asshole, and I know it was just because he was stressed and grieving, but it still sucked.

So today we are at lunch with another friend and I am thinking that I should be 37 weeks pregnant now, big as a house with swollen ankles.  I should being peeing 5 times a night and having trouble physically getting out of bed and the car and up off the couch.  I should have heartburn.  I should be getting the final touches to the nursery done and assembling our co-sleeper bassinet and packing my hospital bag.  I should be doing all those things, but I am not because my baby died.  I can move and bend any way I want.  I can eat and drink anything I want.  I can do all those things, but all I want is my baby back.

Anonymity

The world of babyloss is a strange place.  There is a language all it's own, that you learn quickly.  You enter into it raw, bleeding, tear stained and broken.  You talk about your inner most thoughts, fears, emotions using this strange new language that all of a sudden you are fluent in.  You develop friendships with people you have never seen, voices you have never heard, they are your lifeline and you rarely even know their real first name.  You know them by their handle, a name they have chosen, one that generally speaks to their loss.  Mine is "Grace's Mom" or "Thoughts of Grace" depending on the site.  Maybe this emotional freedom is only possible through anonymity.  If I say my real name or that of my husband would it prevent me from saying everything I need to?  Would people use it against me?  Would knowing what I do for a living change how people view me and my opinions?  Unfortunately for all of us who we are and what we do does affect how we process our grief and loss.

So here we go... My name is Amanda, my husband is Mark.  We are Grace's parents.  I am a veterinarian, Mark is a middle school art teacher.  We are regular, middle class people.  We are well educated, compassionate people who care about other people and animals.  We share our home with two dogs, a 13 year old German Shepherd mix named Audrey, a 7 year old Pit Bull named Lakota and three cats, Flip, Louie and Banksy.  We are still Grace's parents, losing our anonymity does not change that, it does not change our loss, it just brings more of her story and our story into focus.

My favorite U/S Picture of Grace