DELETE

Before I left for Kripalu, I told myself that I needed to eliminate some people from my life.... People that were too damn busy caring about themselves to give a fuck about others. If you can't pull your head out of your ass to care for others, then you're not someone that I want or need in my life.... It's times like these when it's very clear who are your true friends.


So, on the night that I returned from Kripalu.... I eliminated about 60 people from my facebook page and ultimately from my life. Some of those people were from my past that I hope, when they were in need, I offered an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and words of encouragement. Actually, I eliminated a friend that considered me her "good friend" and when her mother died of cancer....I was there for her. When I announced what happened to Areila, all I got was an "I'm sorry for your loss" or something really canned and insincere. When I gave her the details of the memorial service, she texted me back to tell me she "couldn't make it" and asked if "I wanted her to bring something". Hmmmm....I should have replied, "why yes, a bucket of chicken, a coldstone cake, a bottle of Oban, and bag of bbq pork rinds". REALLY?!?!?!?!?! When someone dies...is it normal to ask the person if they want you to bring something.... Don't you do things for them out of the kindness of your heart without questions??

Well, when I announced that I was deleting folks, she tried to use the "well, you asked for space, so I was giving you space", line. Asking for space is NOT the same thing as ignoring and avoiding. You can respect boundaries while showing concern and love....many people just sent cards, texts, emails with a simple yet meaningful, "I have no words but...know you're in my prayers, etc", "I'm sorry", or "you're in my thoughts"....whatever.....3 simple words can mean the world to someone whose world has stopped. It felt good to do and it needed to be done. I've since, probably eliminated about 40 more people and I don't think that I'm done. I've even eliminated family....my first cousin, and stepbrother have yet to say "boo" to me....guess what!?!?!? DELETE!!!! I'll say it again...."I'm sorry my loss and grief makes you uncomfortable, but....It REALLY makes me uncomfortable"....and I'm living every parents nightmare!!!!

DELETE!

Stepping Stones....

I was going to buy a personalized memorial stone for the garden but then I rememberd.... I have a garage full of concrete shit from a business that my husband started and it unfortunately went nowhere. SOOOOOO...I made some stones and the kids helped. Well, they mostly watched while I tore up the kitchen mixing cement and decorated stones. They and Larry also probably thought...what will this poor crazy woman think of next...."don't say anything, just let her do it, as long as she's not blowing up the kitchen." It felt so good to make my own, the supplies cost me about $10 and I think they're pretty damn cute!!! How fucked up is it that they only way that I have to "parent" my child, is by tending to a garden? Oh....I really need to move where it's warm year round!!!

Big Sister's Handprint

Check the garden out....

I ran away....

After the memorial service...I didn't know what to do with myself. I drank too much...I cried to much....I thought about Areila too much...I went around in circles too much. The fog was so heavy.... I was truly lost! I felt like a horrible mother, terrible wife, and a miserable sister, daughter and friend.

I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go but I just needed to get away. I thought about going to Sedona which is known to be a great spiritual place for healing and renewal. I asked a couple friends about other places to go and two mentioned Kripalu in Massachusettes. One friend said her visit was life changing and the other said it saved her marriage. So....I was all for it! It took me a while to focus and fully commit to a date, and to then book the flight.

I went on a mini "family vacation" a few days before my trip and it was a disaster. I should not have gone but my children deserved some time away. It was a trip I planned when I was still pregnant and one that I was looking forward to....until. My sister's and cousin's families were in on the trip and I couldn't keep my mind off the fact that Areila should have been there...that she should be going from arm to arm to arm. I had even bought her a swimming suit in preparation for the summer and that trip. It was torture....there was someone missing and I couldn't take my mind off her to remotely enjoy it. My poor husband was again, left to give our children some semblance of normalcy and fun. Again....I don't know what I would have done without him.

The time came for me to leave and I kissed my husband and girls goodbye and took my first trip alone. I ran away....

It was a small plane and luckily I was in the isle that only had one seat. I read a book on relationships after loss and cried the WHOLE plane ride there.

I went with totally unrealistic expectations of myself. I seriously thought about Areila and fought tears the WHOLE time. I thought fuck...I just couldn't escape it. I thought that 6weeks had passed and it was time to get on with my life. I was tired of crying. I hated it. I still do.... I especially hated crying in front of others because how much vulnerability should one person show? I have always been known as the happy and positive one that even though my life was sometimes really fucked up....no one knew because I was always smiling and cheery. Wow...have I changed.

I basically settled in on the first day. I made the decision that I was going to eat. I seriously hadn't eaten in 6wks....well, no more than a graham cracker and/or carrot here and there. At that point, I had lost about 40lbs of the weight I gained during pregnancy...without even trying. I met some people in the dining hall and one woman asked me how many children I had. I think it was the first time anyone asked me that question since my world got turned upside down, and then shaken. I told her I had 3 beautiful girls....2 living. She responded with an "oh" and quickly changed the subject. She told me that she was a yoga instructor and was there for a 'yoga nidra' program that the center piloted for people suffering from ptsd. She went on to tell me that it was a program that the military has used and found success. I later had a meditation session by an old wrinkled lady that turned out to be really hip and a wealth of knowledge. She had a very unique energy about her.....

The first full day, I went on a hike to the lake.... It was the first time that I was remotely active in months. It felt good to have control of my body and to be able to move freely but then, I felt so guilty for having my body back....I would have carried Areila for another 5yrs if it meant that the outcome would be a living, breathing and healthy baby! I hiked to the lake and back and while at the lake, I saw a lady and her friend with an adorable baby that was crawling in the sand. I hiked back in time for an energy therapy treatment. Seems like a bunch of hocus pocus but I wanted so much to be "normal" again and was willing to do anything for it. I didn't feel much different after the session but I was hopeful.

I went to another session but the instructor was a no-show and they had to call in someone else to lead the group. So, it ended up being a "sharing circle". I thought to myself....OH SHIT! People went around the room to basically share their stories of how/why they made a "pilgrimage" to Kripalu. I recognized the woman in front of me as the one from the lake. She opened her mouth and began crying as she began explaining about how difficult motherhood was for her....how she just wanted sleep...how she gets lots of help but it was too much for her. Well, the sharing went around the room and people told of how they just needed to get away, one couple spoke about their terminally ill child, one about their recovery from cancer and then.... it was my turn. FUCK. I began speaking about my family and then....mentioned the events of 6wks before that time and....it took my breath away. The pain was choking me.... Shit! I was breathless and crying in front of a room full of strangers. I was eventually able to breathe and the sharing finished moving through the room. I guess it wasn't so bad crying in front of a room full of people but it still kinda sucked.

I encountered the overwhelmed new mother several times and she seemed to avoid eye contact and ME like the plague. Never lifted her head as I passed her in the hallway and even got her naked ass out of the "clothing optional" whirlpool as soon as I got in. (Yeah, I wore a swimsuit....I have body image issues) I have never felt the way that she did about motherhood...but I wanted to at least, tell her that the sleepless nights would quickly pass and to not take a moment with her precious daughter for granted.

On the 3rd day, I decided to take the longer hiking trail. Well....I got a little lost. There I was, a lone black woman in the mountains of massachusettes....lost. Thank goodness I brought my cell phone with me and the gps got me on track. I knew as long as I headed towards the lake, I'd be able to find my way back and that's just what happened. Once I got to the lake....I did a stupid thing and took my phone back out to read an email. I'm glad I did because it was from a new friend that has written several books on loss, particularly loss due to miscarriage and stillbirth. I had written her earlier, concerned that I was still so deep in grief and wondering if something was wrong with me. She responded with a basic question of... if I didn't grieve for and miss my precious daughter...who would? Didn't she deserve the depth of my love and should my other children know the depth of love that I have for them and Areila. It made all the sense in the world. I sat in silence at the bank of the lake, closed my eyes, and opened them to see a heron hover the lake, I heard the songbirds song and I saw a butterfly move gracefully in the distance. It was then, that I allowed myself to feel my first milisecond of peace.

That day I had an amazing massage....went to my 2nd yoga class during my stay....and met a doctor that was away from her young children for the first time. She asked me about my children and I shared my story about Areila and we cried together. Ha!

On the last day, I ran into the woman that blew me off when I told her about my 3 beautiful girls (2 living). She put her arms around me and apologized as tears came down her face, for not knowing how to respond and thanked me for including all of my children. It caught me off guard and I didn't realize what she was even talking about until I walked away. (I'm a little slow nowadays).

So....the trip wasn't what I initially expected it to be....but it began my long process of healing and allowing the sun to shine if only for a second or two.... Not of "gettin over it" but getting on WITH IT. How could I ever forget...her?

Thank you 'A' and 'C'! I love you both!

Rum, Southern Comfort, Tequila, Wine.... Camels?

I really tried to avoid having a drink because I feared that once I started.... I could easily and quickly become an alchoholic.




Well, after many sleepless nights, going around in cirles and, not being able to eat, and not being able to think clearly, I felt like I needed something to take the edge off. I began to drink....still do but I've cut back quite a bit because even I, noticed it was becoming a problem. I was VERY careful during pregnancy and didn't even have a glass of wine because I was that paranoid mama.... I figured it was only 9 months of my life to be extra careful. As much as I looooove to get my drink on....I had no real problem going without because having a healthy, living baby is worth it....right. What a fucking waste...huh?









I also needed to add to the whole crazy, perseverating mad-woman look by buying a pack of camels. So.... I smoked. Not weed....just camels... although, that might not have been such a bad idea. :) Picture me with glass of booze in one hand, cigarette in the other, sitting in and staring at a corner, rocking, unbathed, hair uncombed, old dirty t-shirt, torn sweatpants....puff, sip, puff, sip. I actually didn't do that but I felt like it!









I started off with drinking Meiers and diet pepsi.... Meiers is a local company...gotta keep it local, right? AND it's just as good as bacardi...only cheaper!!! :) I also drank local wine but....wine truly kicks my ass. Harmony by Debonne is one of my favorites (4o% merlot, 30%riesling, 30% chardonnay) but I can only have a glass because if I have more....it quickly sucks me into the deepest depths of grief.

DIG!!!!

I began digging about a week after I gave birth to Areila. In hindsight, I realize that I did WAY too much physical stuff and didn't allow my body to heal but I needed to do something. I'm thankful, I'm not noticing that I did any damage. My back still hurts from the epidurals but that's not my fault. Anyway, I wanted to have a garden put together for the memorial service. Well, that didn't quite happen because I was too busy cleaning, crying, and going around in circles in my gray and foggy world, to have it done by then.

Woah...let me rewind. I decided to plant a memorial garden for my baby girl. I had it all planned out....a bench, flowers, an engraved stone with her name, etc.... I needed something to do.... a way to "mother" my child. YES...it is VERY important to still be your dead child's mother and to find a way to care for them even though they're not in your arms.

Anyway, it annoyed my husband that I dug up all the daylillies that he moved from the front yard to the back, the year before, but I didn't care. Our baby was more important than some stupid ass daylillies. So, I dug them all up and we made a trip to the garden center.... I, of course made it difficult for the workers there because I wanted ALL pink and purple flowers that attracted butterflies and I wanted them to bloom all season long. I hate to see beautiful flowers die...(my issues with death) I did make one exception...I bought butterfly milkweed which is orange, but it's the only plant monarchs will feed on. Anyway, they were very knowledgeable but kept showing me orange and yellow flowers...what the fuck!!! I knew what I wanted so I politely thanked them and picked my own damn flowers.

We battled the rabbits throughout the summer because I guess flowers that attract butterflies are also pretty tasty to furry creatures. It warmed my heart to see the butterflies fluttering around the yard at the end of the season. The weather is quickly cooling and I'm desperately searching for another way to "mother" my baby girl during the winter. Sigh....

Memorial Service...

As I was going around in circles, crying, cleaning, and crying even more. I decided that I should have some kind of service for my precious baby girl. Again, this territory was so foreign....I didn't know that you should/could recognize the life of a precious baby that never took her first breath. I felt so defeated and hepless that I was somewhat stuck in the mindset of.... "what for...she's gone".....but I didn't want to have regrets. I'm so glad my wonderful midwife/friend planted that seed and made it "ok" to show my family and friends my precious baby and how much I truly love her. It was planned for 2 weeks from the day that I came home from the hospital and my amazing best friend put EVERYTHING together for me. I just told her what I wanted and she did the rest. We planned it for two weeks away because we were initially told that it would take 2 weeks for the autopsy to be complete and for her to be cremated. I got the shock of my life when I called back the next day to find out that the autopsy was complete and she was going to be cremated that day or the next. AHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! Things were moving way too quickly. I wanted to see her again....I never told anyone but I felt like I had to say goodbye...one more time. It didn't happen and that's one regret of many that I have.

We picked up her urn about a week later and on the board in the office, it had, "baby girl Ringwalt". It made it so final....so real. But still unreal...babies dont die, right? I asked that they put some of her ashes in the charm that I had personalized and the secretary commented on how pretty it was. I of course, lost it....it again, made it so real.... People should be commenting on the beauty of my LIVING baby girl but could only speak about the tiny urn that I wear around my neck. My poor husband I think he's now getting used to the fact that his wife can be 'ok' on second and a snotty, sobbing mess the next. He still seems to go in panic mode when I cry in restaurants....can't blame him.

I won't go over every detail of the memorial service but....we had it at our home and I wanted it outside. The weather was warm, the sun was shining but I was still in my hazy, trippy world.... Friends and family came to support us. It was a very overwhelming day and I had to take a moment to step outside of my body so that I could get through the day. It's like I went through the motions but I watched myself do it from afar.

I had the video of pictures of Areila playing in the family room. It did make my heart ache when I came down to find everyone crammed in the kitchen. Only one friend sat in the family room to watch the video and maybe 2 others stopped to look at my beautiful baby. This was the first event of many that brought home the reality that the death of babies and the facts surrounding Areila's death, make people VERY uncomfortable and they just dont want to go "there". Well, too fucking bad....it makes me very uncomfortable too and I have no choice but to go "there"...just about every waking minute and it finds a way to creep in my sleep too. It's a reality...babies die! They shouldn't but they do!!!

I've got to add this... I didn't want anything religious for the memorial service. My husband and I have very different religious beliefs. I had issues with religion before Areila's death and NOW.... Well, we'll just make that a topic for a future post. Anyway, I had a friend, who has the ability to communicate with spirits and angels, read a message she channeled for the memorial service. I'm sure my ultra-religious family members had a lot to talk about on their ride home.

Balloon release at the end of the service. My 3yr old still talks about giving Areila 2 balloons when we mention her in our nightly prayers....

Clean, Clean, Clean....

I came home from the hospital a day before Mother's Day and I couldn't believe folks were wishing me a "Happy Mother's Day". HAPPY!?!?!?!? Are you fucking kidding me? Mother's day will NEVER....EVER be the same! I'm missing a very important element...person....that completes me as a MOTHER.

Anyway, the next day, which was a Monday, I went to the funeral home to arrange things for Areila's cremation and to choose an urn. Blah... I expected to cry more but the whole thing just sucked and the director wasn't very warm. I was a hot, swollen mess...I looked and felt awful. We didn't like any of the urns so we had one custom designed. Still didn't make things better....our baby's precious body was going to be put in 3x3x3 cube. FOREVER

When I got home from the funeral home... I needed to do something. All I could think of was...I should be nursing my baby...I should be changing a diaper...I should be taking care of my baby..... What the hell am I going to do? My milk had just started to come in and that was a torturous event. HORRIBLE!! So wrong in every way. I just couldn't believe that this was my life.

I began to clean...I also did A LOT of going around in circles....unable to focus on anything for long but....I did clean. I dusted....and scrubbed....and washed walls... cleaned baseboards...and ran the carpet cleaner....and cried...and cried...and cried.... Still in shock...still in disbelief...still holding on to the notion that it was all a dream.

The phone rang....text messages came in....emails came in....but I didn't answer...I couldn't.

First thing I did to keep from losing my fucking mind....

One of the first things that entered my mind after I found out that Areila was gone was....this is the shit that ends marriages. I quickly realized that I needed him more than ever and I decided that I was going to work very hard to make US work. I let go of the small shit! The stupid shit that kept us at odds with one another, instantly became so minuscule. We took one another for granted in the past and I'm determined to keep that from happening again.



My wonderful husband has been my best friend....the one I have shared my deepest, darkest and most fucked up thoughts in the last 4 months and he has never judged me. He mostly listens and allows me to be the now, crazy-er woman that I am. He has my back 100% and I can't ask for anything more. We are as opposite as can be in so many ways but we are a great team. He's my free ritalin, xanax, seroquel, etc.... When I'm going waaaaay off track and getting lost, he gives me the gentle nudges and encouragement that I need to stay somewhat grounded.


He has also become my shield and protector from the stupid shit that people do and say. He mostly "gets it" and gets me! He's also the one that sometimes intercepts the calls from my well-meaning, yet damage causing mother.

I have seen him in the most vulnerable light and I love him more than ever....

And when he does some stupid shit.... I'll have to remember to come back to this post as a reminder.

Empty Arms...

The next morning, I woke up early and was told that I could basically leave after we made arrangements for her. We did know that we wanted an autopsy and then, to have her cremated. As far as funeral or memorial service....I had no clue that we should have something. This was very foreign territory. Territory that should not even exist! I tried to get a hold of my husband but there was no answer, so I waited for a while. I was trying to wait for him to before we had Areila brought to us for our goodbyes. I spoke to my best friend and shared with her my feelings of wanting get away....go to the ocean...take a cruise...something. I really just wanted to run away from myself. I finally asked the nurse to bring her and as she wheeled her in, she broke down crying...sobbing. She told me that Areila was so beautiful and how she had 3 daughters at home...blah, blah, blah. I guess I shouldn't be like that because her tears were sincere but I needed the others to be strong for me. She asked me if I had other children and then asked me if she would see me again in 2 years. I was so damn offended. How dare this bitch ask me this as I was holding my perfect yet dead baby!!! I quickly responded....NO!!! This pregnancy was too difficult....how could we possibly go through this again....I just want my baby to be alive....not another....not a replacement!!! She left me alone with my baby girl, I took a few more pictures and put her cold little hand in mine and tried to take in every little ounce that was her. She had been in the refrigerator all night and was so cold....I felt so damn helpless. I was there, alone, with the perfect little baby....rubbing her hand to make it warm, sobbing and hoping to wake up from the nightmare. I took deep breath and called the funeral home since I had not heard from my husband and things needed to be arranged. It took all I had to make that call and...I was so afraid that when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing would come out. I got through the call and that was taken care of. I just sat, looking at her.....mothering her for the last time.


My husband finally arrived, and finally decided to hold her. I'm so glad that he did.... I was worried that he wouldn't and would live the rest of his life with regrets. He later told me that he was afraid to hold her because he was afraid that once he held her, he would forever be attached and wouldn't want to let her go. I will never ever forget that moment of him holding her, sobbing, and telling her that we had big plans for her. I held her again...I wanted to leave, in hopes that I would go home, go to bed, wakeup and it would have all been a nightmare. Yet, I wanted to stay and be her mother... No one should ever feel so helpless...so hollow. The time had come for us to go.... I put her in her bassinet, kissed her forehead, sat in my wheelchair with empty arms, and left her there. Alone. My husband was told to drive around back and I was wheeled to the back door....because the "dead baby mamas" don't get to show off their new bundles of joy through the front door. I got in the car and sobbed the whole way home...picked up my oldest daughter....we sobbed together....the whole way home.

The feeling of coming home was unimagineable. I just wanted to fold up in a ball and disappear. I asked my husband to put away all the baby things. He forgot to put away her clothes and I'm so glad that he didn't. They're still in the drawers and in the closet....4 months later.

There are so many details to my coming home and having to try to explain to our 3 year old what happened to her baby sister. We basically told her that she was sick so we left her in the hospital. Of course, it took her a while to realize that she was never coming home.... even now, she sometimes speaks about her like she is coming home. My oldest daughter felt just as helpless as I did and every tear I shed, she shed with me. It got to be overwhelming for both of us, and the next day, I thought it was best if she got away from the house. I don't want to tell every detail because I still dont have the words to describe it....nor do I want to risk omitting anything. I'll just describe it as total and complete helplessness and darkness. My heart literally ached, I couldn't breathe and I felt so hollow and disconnected from the world. Stil do...


I was still thinking to myself....what the fuck. This can't be my fucking life.....how did this happen. 4 days....I was 4 days away.... Everytime I looked at my 3yr old, I saw Areila... it was bittersweet, mind-blowing and totally devastating.

The first night, my husband and I went to bed and by bedtime, our 3yr old had crawled into our bed. We both put our hands on her back and fell asleep like that... I woke up feeling more empty. There was no basinet beside the bed, I wasn't woken up by a crying baby....there was just silence. There continues to be just silence every morning. I rise before everyone else....and lay there....thinking about how fucked up life is...and every morning I'm haunted by emptiness and silence. Part of me died with Areila...




My favorite pic of Areila Indigo Aeleane......

Ignorance is bliss...

Two days later on May 3, I went in for my final visit with the midwife before my amnio and then, induction. I was still concerned that her movement was very minimal but not thinking anything would go wrong because babies don't die.... Babies SHOULDN'T die and it just doesn't happen so I wouldn't even let it enter my mind. It did....but I quickly escorted it out. Her heartbeat was picked up on the doppler for all of probably 8 seconds that she listened to it. She told me about how her pager going off would get her baby to wake up when she was pregnant and told me to just "bang pots and pans to get the baby to awaken and move". I thought she was joking but she was serious as a heart attack and I told her I wasn't planning on traumatizing my baby by doing some stupid shit like that. Ok, I left out the "stupid shit" part. My blood pressure had gone up a bit and she was more concerned about that and pre-eclampsia than she was about that fact that my baby was inactive. My blood pressure was lower when she took it again, she checked to see if I was dilated any more and sent me home....

I woke up on Thursday, May 5 with a headache, swelling in my hands and feet and elevated blood pressure. All things that I had not experienced the whole pregnancy so I called into the office and they FINALLY told me to come in for a non-stress-test. I wasn't sure if they would keep me so I packed my childrens' bags just in case and finally finished packing my own.

We arrived to the midwive's office and I was called back into the Non-stress-test room where the nurse couldn't quite find the heartbeat. I thought nothing of it but found it strange that she moved me back into another room.....same thing happened....she probed and probed yet couldn't find the heartbeat. She left and I looked at my husband with wide eyes...."she can't find the heartbeat". She came back and picked up a heartbeat but I told her that heartbeat was my own....she left again...tears began to well up in my eyes. She came back and took me to the ultrasound room where a tech put her image on the screen. I had never seen her so still....she was always kicking or waving...but this time, she was just there.....floating. The tech left to "get the doctor" and I looked at my husband and said, "there is no heartbeat." I still didn't REALLY think that she was dead because that couldn't happen....not just a few days before her scheduled arrival....babies don't die and certainly not like this. They just weren't doing something right and the doctor will come in and take a look and she's fine. Well, he probed, and probed....and began asking many questions. All I was thinking was.....WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ASKING ME THESE QUESTIONS....TELL ME SHE'S FINE ALREADY. The one midwife came tearing in the room and put her arms around me, and told me she was so sorry. The rest is a blur.... My life has been a blur now for four and a half months. The doctor doing the ultrasound somewhat scolded her because he "had not told me yet". FUCK HIM! He was STILL probing and asking questions....I didn't give a fuck at that point. She was gone and time just stopped.

They finally left and Larry and I held one another and cried. After a while, I sent him home to pick-up our daughter from preschool and I was given the option of going home with him or starting the induction. Why would I want to go home....what for? To carry around my heavy and dead baby....to prepare for what? She was gone and all I could think was I cannot do this. I cannot do this. They couldn't possibly expect me to go through labor and give birth to my dead baby! I texted my sister to let her know what happened. All I could type was, "baby died...going to labor and delivery". The midwife walked me to labor and delivery and it was like a Spike Lee movie.....everything was happening around me but in a blur, while I was just stuck....floating. I remember her repeatedly saying, "I can't believe this happened".

Very shortly after I got there, my sister came and the midwife had to go back to the office. We sat, talked, cried a bit, my sister asked me questions....me still in complete shock. My sister told me that they could be wrong and she could still be alive and all I could say was..."no, I saw...she's gone". The tears had stopped falling by then because I realized that I was lying in the same room and same bed that I had delivered my daughter three years before then and I was expected to go through the same thing but no happy ending. No moment of pure bliss to hear and hold and see my newborn baby for the first time. "What the fuck" kept repeating in my head. Then I heard footsteps coming towards my room and in walks the midwife (that I dearly love and now call a friend) that I had planned (when I was a simple, ignorant ass) to deliver my living, breathing baby in four days. She sat on the bed, held me and when I somewhat focused on her, I saw the tears running down her face...and I was in total disbelief and shock that this was my life.....A trippy horror film. I don't think I'll ever be able to put my experiences from that day into words...

She walked through everything with me.... and told me that it could take days but my precious baby would come out perfect and she'd do her best to keep me as comfortable as possible. She told me that she hoped to be with me during my labor. I couldn't speak then but again, my mind kept repeating...."what the fuck". My sister called my mother and put her on the phone with me and I remember crying to her and asking...."how does this happen and why couldn't it have happened 20 wks ago"? The latter was an ignorant question because I'm sure I would have been devastated if I lost her at 17wks but I was still thinking.....I'm 4 days away....4 days. I have to tell ya.... It's been 4 months and I'm still repeating the same words...."4 days....you were 4 days away".

My family kept filing in....and I was still in the zone. I just wanted to be alone and alone with my husband. At one point, I did ask for a c-section and I was advised against one. All I was thinking was....there is no fucking way I'm going to labor and give birth to a dead baby...no fucking way. They cannot expect me to go through labor and deliver a dead baby. Well, I did. My family eventually left and I heard crying babies enter the world all night and day and thought to myself....this cannot be real. This is a nightmare....I'm going to wakeup. My favorite midwife was up ALL night delivering live babies and I barely saw her. She did begin my induction around 6pm and loaded me up on drugs. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to work. I got an epidural that took the resident 4 pokes to have the attending take over. It would last about an hour and the pain was excrutiating. The epidural was taken out and put back in again and the pain quickly came back. I basically felt the majority of the labor and a whole lot more than I wanted to feel. Come time to push, I was in horrible pain and couldn't believe that they expected me to push past it. I cried and cried and something in me got me through. I don't think I opened my eyes the whole time I pushed. I can only imagine poor Larry, having to support his poor wife and watch his dead child be delivered at the same time. She came out silently....there was no rush to clear her airway....no rubbing her back to get her breathing....no first cry. Just silence....deafening silence. We asked that they clean her up before we saw her. We were both terrified to look at her. I thought that we missed something....what if she was deformed or sick? I still wanted and needed to see her....seemed like it took forever for them to clean her and when she was finally placed in my arms....I broke down....I couldn't breathe. She was perfect. Well, as perfect as a dead baby could be. BEAUTIFUL. She looked just like her big sister with a head full of dark hair like her biggest sister. Perfect with a huge flaw....a heart that wasn't beating.

My family didn't know that she was born yet but started to arrive. My sister was the only one that held her that day, other than me. A photographer from 'Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep' came and took pictures...pictures that I'm so grateful to have. Pictures, that for many, make others uncomfortable. The thought of taking pictures of your dead baby can seem morbid for some but so incredibly important to a parent who has lost a child. We looked at her perfect little body and picked out all the little parts of her that belonged to us. She had her daddy's hands....my lips...perfect little toes...a head full of hair.




Aren't baby feet amazing??? One of my obsessions...

How do I begin to tell the story....

Let me premise this with....there will be a lot of profanity. This is probably going to be my padded room for a while so, reader BEWARE!

There's a battle going on....my life vs. the Universe. I feel like as soon as I think I have a grasp on my life, the Universe comes back and knocks me on my ass as I hold my chest, gasping for air. (You know...the Fred Sanford look)

Where do I even fucking begin?? May 5, 2011.... Or should I go back a little further to May 1, 2011... Hell, I should really go back to August 28, 2011.

Aug 28, 2011 was the day that my precious baby was conceived. It consisted of my friends Shannon and Jacob coming over to help finish off the booze that was left over from my husband's retirement party. Larry and I threw caution to the wind.... Left the Trojans happily in the drawer and made love...screwed...fucked....hit it...hugged (what we call it around the kids)...did the bump and grind (hehehe)....whatever you want to call. WOW...I had a bit of an edge before and now, I really don't give a fuck. Life is so damn different now. I don't give a shit what people think of me....what matters the most to me are my children and my husband. THAT'S ABOUT IT!

The next day...I knew I was pregnant... don't know how I knew....I just knew it. So, by the end of the 2 week wait....all I had to do was pee on a stick to confirm it and....that's just what I did. The night before I pee'd on that stick, My husband and I had a dinner party, had a great time with friends....got our drink on....got our eat on....etc. I was happy....Larry was....ok with it, I guess. I made sure to take a picture of myself because I had worked very hard to lose about 35lbs and figured I was going to put on about 35lbs of baby. As soon as the pee stick confirmed it, I was a woman on a mission to wash walls, scrub floors, sew, cook, groom dog, etc.... because I knew once the pregnancy hormones kicked in, I'd be on my ass for the duration of the pregnancy. AND.....that's just what happened.


Let me also say....I feel VERY blessed, lucky...whatever....to be fertile. I got pregnant with my first w/o trying, 1st try with my second daughter and really, w/o even trying with my third. I don't take that lightly and know that I am truly a lucky person in that department.


Ok....I don't do pregnancy well.... It's a good thing that I REALLY love my babies and REALLY love being a mother or my first child would be a first and last. I'm basically nauseous and puking the whole 9 months.... I'm exhausted, cranky, cant stand smells....can't move...can't sleep....uncomfortable...you name it. BUT it's sooooo worth it! Call me crazy but I love washing poopy diapers....I love nursing my babies....I love the good bad, amazing, scary and downright ugly parts of motherhood.... I LOVE IT! It feels so right to me and one of the things that I think I do fairly well. It took time for me to feel confident with my mothering....there are 8yrs between my oldest 2 children. I never thought I'd have any other children after my oldest because I divorced her father when she was an infant. When I met my current husband....he planted the "we would have beautiful children" seed and so curiousity killed the cat. HE WAS RIGHT!!! My 2nd child is absolutely beautiful to go along with my first and my 3rd is gorgeous like her older sisters.

I will spare you all of the details of the pregnancy. I certainly complained enough on facebook for 20 people. I was a true ass. I took everything for granted. I assumed I would have my third and final child and live happily ever after in 'Pretentia'. Even though 'Pretentia' is not me....I already broke the rule by having 3 children and not the typical two.

This pregnancy almost ended my marriage. I developed pregnancy induced heart arrythmia and it kicked my ass. According to the doctors, they were harmless to my precious baby and myself but it took every ounce of anything out of me. My husband was left to be caretaker of the house and it put a lot of strain on our relationship. I was seriously considering leaving him after the baby arrived.

We were so relieved to be in our last month of pregnancy and especially relieved that our new baby girl was scheduled to come 2 weeks before her due date by induction. Her eye color was a hot topic among my husband and I because our 3yr old has blue eyes and neither Larry nor I have blue eyes. In fact, I'm black and I really do believe people thought I was my daughters nanny for a long time until she started to get her "ethnic" look. Another hot topic was, what title we would give Larry. Our three year old called him only honey up until about a month or so before that time.

I had no energy but pushed myself to finally wash clothes, diapers, prepare the bassinet, and finalize things for her arrival. I still didn't have my hospital bag fully packed when I woke up on a Sunday, May 1 and noticed that she wasn't in constant motion like she appeared to always be.... so I warned Larry that we might be going to the hospital. I called the midwife and she told me very non-chalantly that babies' movement slows in the end and as long as I had 3 movements in an hour, things should be fine. That didn't sound right to me and I let her know that I had a VERY active baby that normally made 3 movements in a 1 minute period and the difference from the day before to that day was like night and day. She went on to tell me that "obese women often have difficulty feeling their babies move". I told her that just the day before I could see legs and feet poking out my belly and she just blew me off. She told me that the movement can be ever so slight but to consider it movement. Okay....I'm not a little chick (size 14) but I'm far from some of the women that I've seen enter their office. I got off the phone thinking WHAT THE FUCK but said to myself, "ok....I'm a week away...just hang in there....she's the professional....a bitch, but the professional"....

Here is big ole fat, pregnant me.... So obese that you can hardly tell that I'm pregnant...right? No wonder why she thought I couldn't feel my baby move...huh?