4 years later...

I decided to take a read through some of the posts from 4 years ago and though cathartic, reading brought it all back.  It pains me to remember how raw and helpless I was.  I've come a long way but the pain still exists and scars definitely don't go away.  I miss her and think about her everyday, I still fight guilt, I still fight anger, I'm still full of anxiety, there will always be "what-ifs".

I will be back to write more...
Lots to share.

More...Now.

This will not be a long post but I felt compelled to share my thoughts on the importance of living in the moment and just, 'being'. 

Two days ago, my grandmother had a stroke.  She is 10 days away from turning 100yrs old and her body is done...understandably tired.  She is not verbal because the stroke took her ability to speak and she hasn't opened her eyes today (she progressively became blind) but to my amazement, appears to have remarkable mental clarity.  She has been able to respond in some way, to every person that visited and every question we asked.   She spent most of the day awake and present with the family.  She was even able to hold my two wiggly toddlers for quite some time. 

She is living in a nursing home and there has been quite a bit of family controversy over whether or not she should have been admitted into the hospital and more interventions should have been used but when I asked her if that was where she wanted to go, she immediately responded with a shake of the head, 'no'.  She shared with my mother days before her stroke,  her thoughts about being done with this life.  So...... all we can do now. is just be with her.  All she wanted today was for us to hold her and so, for several hours, while family watched my little people, I stayed with her and held her hand.  Whenever she reached for a hand, I offered mine because that was all she wanted and needed.  As a new single mother, working full-time, always rushing to and from work, school, grocery store, and daycare, always pre-occupied with just trying to survive,...
I am reminded by my grandmother, who is now about to complete the final pages in her book of life, the importance of 'the power of now'.  And so, tomorrow, I will make sure to slow down- I will look into my childrens' eyes ....I will hug them....I will tell them how special they are....I will make sure they know how loved they are,  and I will go see my grandmother and when she reaches out....I will tell her I love her,  hold her hand and just be with her.   

The Power of Now....

I mentioned in one of my previous posts, that 'living in the now' is what got me through my pregnancy, mainly the first trimester.  What this means to ME is putting aside all the pain and heartache and even happiness of the past and the uncertainty of the future and living in every moment and putting my heart, energy, and thoughts into every single....moment.  I did do a lot of living in the moment about a year ago, as I was falling more and more in love with my two new girls every day.  I fell in love with them in a much different way than my other children and that was because of my past.  So, 'living in the now' wasn't what I actually did because the past truly shapes my NOW and the eyes that I use to see my world....NOW.  Confused yet?  It's a little wackadoodle.

I think once people have their "rainbows", or subsequent living children after loss, others from the land of 'babies don't die', assume that our grief and heartache ends.  I do believe they think, " it's all over now and you have your baby and so, you get over it already."  It really doesn't happen like that.  Often times, loss mothers put their grief aside to get through their rainbow pregnancies and once their children arrive, the grief wave comes voraciously rolling in again.  It's often so difficult to be sucked into two vacuums....the one of surreal happiness and the other, of unending grief.  I know I've often looked down at my beautiful sleeping baby and had my breath taken away because she looked so much like her big sister.  There will always be reminders and I'm sure, there will always be moments when my grief appears and takes me steps back.

The sometimes difficult reality for me is....my two amazing daughters would not be here had Areila lived.  So, I have feelings of guilt and being torn between missing my daughter and being thankful for....her not being here.

So, as a mother who has had a child die...(inside of me), I realize that I am too aware that tomorrow is not promised.  I, on a daily basis, sometimes on a minute to minute basis, am consumed with, and fight the negative thoughts and what ifs.  When I get in the car, I have to often count car seats and children repetitively, I fight images of a car accident that could take the lives of my children, I worry about leaving windows open in my home out of fear that they will be kidnapped....I worry that I will fall while carrying them and by some freak accident fatally injure them....  I watch them sleep because I fear that one day I will go in their cribs to wake them and they won't be breathing.  I worry about them choking on food and not too long ago, it happened.  One of them choked and thankfully, I was able to dislodge it but all I could do afterwards was stand frozen, looking at them and cry.  I am too aware of all the horrible things that can happen.  I feel so lucky to have them and I'm beyond grateful for them but I also fear that one or both can be taken away.  It is a constant battle....

So, a couple weeks ago, a (I'm sure...or hope) a well meaning family member kept looking at them and saying, "two for the price of one".   It seriously made me nauseous.

 I thought I was going to die after Areila died.  Part of me did die....  My living children suffered because of their sister's death.  My life forever changed, in turn, changing my family's lives.  I almost lost my fucking mind grieving and I still feel like I'm going to lose it at times.  I still perseverate.  I still carry a lot of anger that I don't want.  I still carry a lot of guilt.  Carrying and bringing these two new lives into the world was the 2nd most difficult period of my life.  Keeping my children safe and alive while constantly fighting to 'live in the now' is my life.  "Two for the price of one"?  REALLY!?!??

So....  I will continue to find comfort and peace in looking at their sweet little faces and watching their chests rise and fall as they sleep.

How does it go??? Prepare for the worst but hope for the best?

Well, I made it through the first year after Areila's death.  I don't even know what to call it.  I don't like calling it a birthday because to me, birthdays are happy times to celebrate the continuation of life.  Some people call it Angelversaries but I don't believe that she is an angel.  She might be WITH angels but she is not.  I can go on for days about how wrong and uncomfortable and sad it is to celebrate a life that existed and ended....inside of me.  I decided to make the day she was 'born' a day for family and love.  So, my wonderful family gathered at a special playground and we released balloons and ate cupcakes.  It was so surreal to be pregnant again a year later and knowing that....
Well, that anything is possible.

As my pregnancy progressed, so did my anxiety and just the aches and pains of pregnancy.  I really tried not to complain and felt so guilty doing it.  I tried my best to sleep on my left side (because blood flow is best while lying on that side) until bursitis kicked in so I did A LOT of tossing and turning which was VERY difficult.  I was also hungry A LOT during this pregnancy and eating was something that I was still getting used to so I woke up a lot because of hunger if it wasn't for hip pain....or heat.  It was a VERY  hot summer and we topped at 107....on a day that I had to leave the house for an appointment.

Having to pack away Areila's clothes from the closet and drawers was so very difficult for me.  They stayed there for months.  I couldn't imagine having to do it again.  I couldn't imagine blissfully preparing for these babies and they not make it through...alive.  So, we didn't prepare.  We bought nothing.  I gave my wonderful cousin some money and told her what we needed but made her promise not to bring the things to our home until and only if the babies were born healthy and alive.  So, I prepared myself for the worst and hoped and prayed for the best.

I take that back.  We needed a larger vehicle that would accommodate 5 children, so we did purchase that...which was VERY difficult.  VERY.

I pretty much knew where each baby was and felt comfort with every moment....both babies were VERY active just like their big sister, Areila.  There was a day, probably a couple weeks before my their expected delivery date, that I noticed one of the babies' movement had seemed to be slow and I nearly lost my mind.  My doctors did everything they could, short of delivering them and I was in the doctors office from about 32 weeks on, about 3-4 times a week with non-stress tests twice a week and bio-physical profiles (documents practice breathing, heartrate, movement, amniotic fluid).  The monitoring settled my anxiety for a short time but by the next day, I was a wreck again.  There were many hospital trips...and any time that I felt unsure....of to the hospital I went.  I couldn't take any chances and have any more regrets.
 

One day, while home alone with my 4yr old, I got up and was in excruciating pain.  I couldn't move and had to call my husband home from work.  He came and practically carried me to the bathroom where I almost passed out.  It turned out to be sciatica, something that I never had with my other pregnancies.  So...for the last 3weeks I was REALLY stuck to the couch and had to walk with crutches and used wheel chairs when I went to the doctor.

Feeling the movement of two active babies was comforting but they also kept me up and it got to the point where I slept only a couple hours a day.  The only shows that are on at 4am on Sundays are Infomercials, the 'kill your husband/wife and try to get away with it' shows, and Hoarders.  However, I did look forward to the show, 'Escape to Chimp Eden'....chimpanzees are fascinating.  I ended up watching every season and episode....TWICE.

 

The few days before my amnio were absolutely terrible.  I kept thinking about how I couldn't make it to 37 weeks which was when Areila died...and how I was just 4 days away from my induction date when she died.   It took all I could to pack my bags and then pack my daughter's bags because the last time I did that and headed to the hospital, my life was forever changed.

To make a very long story short, the plan was to have an amnio at 36 weeks and if they got an amniotic sample and one of the babies' lungs were mature, they would admit me that day and do a c-section the next morning.  Well, after about 15 pokes and a very sore and bruised belly, the doctor gave up.  The babies were too active, they were too big to get a decent pocket of fluid, and he was afraid to poke one of them with the crazy long needle.  So, I was sent home...and we had to move to plan b.  I was completely devastated.  I never thought the babies would make it here.  I was so afraid they would die.  We really weren't prepared for plan B but my doctors were required to make me wait another week.  However, they knew that I was on the verge of a breakdown and were going to admit me to the hospital for 24/7 monitoring until I reached 37weeks.

I was so depressed and defeated and cried the whole night before but I got up the next morning and went to one appointment where everyone in the office was disappointed to see me there, once again, still miserable, in a wheelchair, and still ginormous.  I passed my non-stress test but when, my doctor did a quick ultrasound but noticed that my amniotic fluid looked a little low and sent me over to the head high-risk doctor's office.  It was there that I had a biophysical profile and one of the babies didn't pass one section of the test.  That doctor was trying to figure out a way to get me delivered because by then, I had just about driven them all crazy---I was already there.  He asked us to sit in the waiting room and after about 10 mins. he came out and told me that they kinda changed the results of the NST to have the 'criteria to deliver' and to drive to the hospital to deliver the babies.  I could NOT believe it.  The time had come.  The babies were still alive and I was going to be a mother of 5 girls and have 2 new, living, breathing, pooping, and kicking babies. 

We drove home, took the dog to the sitter, grabbed my bag and headed to the hospital.  We live about 40mins. away so that trip seemed like it took forever.  Talk about surreal.  I went to l&d, and by then, many of the nurses knew me and were excited that the time had come.  They prepared me for the babies needing to possibly go to the NICU because they were a little early but I couldn't really show emotion.  I was still, too afraid to be hopeful.  My l&d room was just around the corner from the operating room and let me tell you....there were A LOT of people there!!

Of course, the epidural didn't work so they had to do a spinal and work quickly.  Remember what I said about preparing for the worst....well, there was something in the back of my mind that kept replaying..."what if the babies make it and YOU die."  They began the surgery and told me that they were getting one of the babies out....they pulled her out and held her up so that my husband could see her and she began to cry.

I swear I heard angels singing....3 minutes later, the same thing---another crying, bloody, and goopy baby.  I sobbed...and puked....and inquired about their health because my husband was in another room with the babies.  I really did expect them to be in the nicu for a bit.  I could NOT believe it when my husband walked out with two babies in his arms.  OH.MY.GOD!  (and I'm an atheist)

They finished up the surgery and wheeled me back and the epidural quickly wore off.  So, I was in quite a bit of pain and in disbelief.  Notice my emotionless face at that point?

We held the babies....did skin to skin to stabilize their temperatures.  I breastfed them and they immediately latched on like champs.  It was so unbelievable.  Here it is, a year later and I'm still in disbelief---I carried 2 babies at one time and they're alive and healthy and SO UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLY AMAZING!!!

To speak their names is to tell the story that out of darkness, light shining light can arise and the truth that prayers can be answered and with that comes....peace.

Eleni Satya Indigo (Shining light and truth)
Arabelle Shanti Indigo (Answered prayer of peace)

All of my children are amazing...they are the air that I breathe.

The List

I've been meaning to create a list....as a reminder of where I've been and where I'm going.  There are still days that I still feel like my loss is so fresh and my wounds and heartache are so deep and heavy.  I still avoid certain situations, I still struggle with anger, I still have to stay busy to distract myself, I still have anxiety about what may come, I still worry about my children, and I still feel insecure and carry guilt for my child dying--inside of me.  I am definitely a different person.  I am sad.  I am happy.  I am grateful.  I am more loving.  I am more open.  I am more giving.  I am more cautious.  I am more fearful.  I am more patient.  I am not the same person.  I hope that I am a better person.

When I created this blog 2 years ago, I didn't want it to be the typical blog about my grief.  I wanted to document my actions in response to my grief.  Well anyway....here's the list....not in chronological order but, here are the THE THINGS I DID TO KEEP FROM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND....

1.  I let go of the small shit.
2.  I began to clean.
3.  I began digging.
4.  I began to drink.
5.  I smoked.
6.  I ran away.
7.  I deleted.
8.  I got a new kitty.
9.  I avoided people.
10.  I went back to yoga.
11.  I gave up t.v.
12.  I joined a band.
13.  I quit a band.
14.  I let go of religion.
15.  I began cooking.
16.  I did a little redecorating.
17.  I got a tattoo.
18.  I learned to fake it.
19.  I got out of the fucking house.
20.  I became a foster-baby bunny-mama.
21.  I didn't even go.
22.  I Say I-Love- you.
23.  I remained and probably became more spiritual.
24.  I did a lot--sewing, crafting...and crying.
25.  I went for it.
26.  I didn't mention it but I couldn't, and still can't sleep without holding something....a pillow...a baby.  something.
27.  I hid my pregnancy.

WOW!  That's quite a list! 

Now how do I hide this??

I began showing early and the thought of sharing the news with others that not only was I pregnant, but there were two babies, gave me GREAT anxiety.  I decided not to share my pregnancy with friends, family, and FACEBOOK because I couldn't tolerate the judgment, comments, and 'congratulations'.  I wasn't happy about the pregnancy...I wasn't happy that 7 months after losing my daughter at the very end of pregnancy and being pregnant again.  I wasn't happy about having to do this all over again with the high chance of losing my babies.  I wasn't happy...I was terrified.   I don't congratulate people for getting pregnant anymore....most people can get knocked up...birthing live and healthy babies is what should be congratulated!  So, when people happily announce their pregnancies, I initially go to a dark place....I fear for them, I shamefully, get a little jealous of them but I do wish them well.

I hid my pregnancy.  I went out and bought all the loose and oversized clothes I could find.  Thank goodness I already liked comfy and flowy clothes and I had lost quite a bit of weight...I just bought some new ones in larger sizes.  I felt a strong urge to document the pregnancy...more than I did with the others.  I just wanted proof and no regrets, should I lose the babies.

My first trimester was basically full of bloat, gas, and lots of sleep.   I gained quite a bit of weight in the beginning and did a lot of sleeping!  I'm pretty sure I was wearing maternity pants by 9-10wks.  My doctor never let more than 2-3weeks go by without visits...with ultrasounds.  I felt a tiny bit comforted with the fact that my doctors were watching me like a hawk.  In fact, when I travelled out of the state, my doctor gave me 'papers' to share with others, should I need to get treatment.

11weeks

14weeks.

I really didn't allow myself to feel anything for the babies other than, determination-- to get them here ALIVE and HEALTHY.  With every doctor visit, I prepared myself for the worst.  I wanted to see the tiny beans on the screen moving around but, I just prepared for the worst....just in case.  We had our nuchal translucency screening and  with that, I expected to be told something was wrong but nothing.  They were always perfect....so was Areila...and we know that outcome.

By 20 weeks, I could feel movement on a regular basis and that was when my anxiety REALLY hit the roof.  I quietly and internally panicked when I didn't detect movement after certain period of time.  I imagined and prepared myself to deliver dead babies.  I couldn't sleep because I was uncomfortable but mainly because there were not one, but two babies that I HAD to keep alive.  The research that I read about 'fetal demise' all said babies are most vulnerable when the mothers slept for lengthy periods of time.  I was all good in that department because sleep and I were not friends. 

The further along I got, the less I left the house.  I went to work, the doctor and occasionally to take and pick my daughter up from school and dance class.  The larger I got...the more insecure I felt.  (Since her death, I've always been insecure about being a mother who couldn't keep all her babies alive.)    I knew people would be curious enough to ask 'the questions'.  "How many children do you have or..."any day now?" or "do you know what you're having".  No matter how awkward it is...I cannot deny Areila for other's comfort and then having to speak about the two I was carrying, was too much for me.  I thought I was doing well to have avoided the comments about losing 1 and gaining 2....the "buy one get one free", and the "two for the price of one" folks.  Well, I got that lovely response from the fucking ultrasound tech.  WHAT-THE-FUCK!?

Well, only 1 person noticed that I was pregnant at work and I almost made it to the last week before she asked.  I'm quite surprised and relieved that only one person noticed and felt curious enough to inquire.  I did my best to avoid the lunch room, or sitting with the 'others', and I sat on my ass a lot.  I always hid behind a desk or counter.  My babies were 6 months old before a lot of my students even knew I was pregnant.  It makes me chuckle to think that I hid this big ass belly from so many people...

But it just pained me to be among blissfully ignorant people that had no clue about loss and grief....and LOSING A CHILD....or birthing a dead baby....or being afraid to be hopeful.  It was too much.

Last day of school.  (Don't worry, I wore a jacket over this).

Speechless

I already had my doctor chosen before I even got pregnant.  Obviously, I wasn't even using the same group or hospital system that I used before.  As soon as my doctor heard that I was pregnant, she gave me a call and got me in sooner than the 8+wks that they now like you to wait before your first appointment.  I brought my husband with me for support, just in case I was given bad news.  

Well, she decided to do an early ultrasound and this was the first one that I had since I lost Areila.  I seriously felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest as we waited for her to enter the room.  When she began the ultrasound, she paused and turned the screen to herself.  My heart sunk, and I gave my husband the look of: here we go again.  I just knew it was an ectopic pregnancy...or a molar pregnancy...or worse...a tumor.  She turned the screen back to face us and announced, "here THEY are".  Sure enough, there were two itty bitty beans on the screen with tiny flickering heartbeats.  My first second of digesting the news was shock and the following seconds were terror.  I wish I felt joy but I didn't.  I just couldn't be joyful at that moment because I knew too fucking much.  I've been tainted with the reality that babies die...  So many things can go wrong and I've come to know of many eternally devastated mothers whose dreams were broken because they've lost a child...and even worse....more than one child.  I am one of them!  I know that more often than people can ever imagine, one twin does not make it.  So, there I was with an absolutely surprised, and elated husband confirming what he saw on the screen with  the question..."wait they are twins?"  As soon as my doctor saw the tears coming down my face, she assured me that everything would be fine and asked me to get dressed and meet her in her office.  

While in her office, my little spunky 4'11 doctor began pulling paperwork and talking a mile a minute about her plan for me.  She chuckled and told me, "well, there's no dispute about how early you'll deliver" because when I met her BEFORE I got pregnant, the only thing we disputed was how early I'd deliver.  I just didn't want to get to 37weeks because that was when Areila died.  Anyway, she walked through her plan for the next 7 months, risks, etc.... but all I could do was cry thinking about the fact that I carry ALL of the risk factors for stillbirth.  I'm NOW advanced maternal age (OLD), black,  had a previous full term loss, carrying twins....and overweight.  FUCK.  Oh...and don't forget my heart issues!  A twin pregnancy puts a lot of strain on the heart.  FUCK!!  Well, from what I remember, my doctor did have a good plan with frequent ultrasounds, lots of bloodwork, frequent visits, and lots of monitoring.  Gosh, I wish I had her confidence and optimism.  

When we left the doctors office, all I could do was stare at the little ultrasound picture of the two tiny beans.  Twins don't run in my family...in fact, there are NO twins on either side of my family....the Universe was really trying to teach my soul some lessons.  I planned to wait as long as possible to tell my close family and friends but after the initial shock and terror, I sent them a picture of my ultrasound. Of course, no one picked up that there were TWO babies....why would they?  Who loses a baby days before her expected birth and then gets pregnant with twins?

With that being said, I began feeling guilty....  How did I get pregnant on the first try again?  And how did I get pregnant with twins?  I've got friends who are depleting their savings and putting themselves through month after month of drugs, disappointment and heartache, trying to have the one treasure that most people, and before Areila, even I,  somewhat took for granted....children.  There I was, a mother of 5 and 2 out of 5 was more than what some of my friends had.

I went for it...

I'm finally sitting down to put my the many overwhelming and breath-taking thoughts of the last 8 or so months into this blog.  I've made many, many attempts to sit down and actually channel my thoughts but couldn't...can't exactly say why...but I just couldn't.

I remember clearly, the day after I gave birth to Areila, one of the postpartum nurses totally breaking down after wheeling my beautiful, yet lifeless baby to my room.  She shared with me that she had 3 girls and how absolutely beautiful my Areila was.  Well, she went on to ask me if she'd see me back in labor and delivery in a couple years.  I was so damn insulted....how could this bitch even think to ask me such a question?  After carrying a baby for 9 months, after the suffering of pregnancy, after my marriage was almost destroyed, and then having to do the most humbling thing a person could do---labor and deliver a dead baby and she was asking me about having another.  I was so angry after that question!!!  Life...god...the universe was so damn cruel to me! 

Well, it took about 2 weeks after Areila's death and birth that I decided, I had to try again.  I couldn't let this heartache and devastation be the leading force for the rest of my life.  My husband thought that I was going through a phase and wanting to replace our precious child.  I explained to him that there was no replacing our Areila.  After experiencing what I have...how could I possibly replace her?  Just impossible!  Well, my husband was not on-board and after some therapy and (shamefully on my part), an ultimatum, he reluctantly agreed to go for it in time.  He was afraid that his age had something to do with Areila's death....doctors and I assured him that HIS age wasn't the case.  I knew well enough to know that I needed time to grieve and wasn't rushing to get pregnant again.  I needed to be physically healthy and emotionally at a place where I could handle 9 long months of a pregnancy after such a loss.

Well, after a second procedure to fix my irregular heartbeat, it seemed to be a success.  So, when he returned from Florida, visiting his mother....we decided it was time.  I went for it. Well, it was more of my decision and my husband being happy to have a week of screwing.  I would say about a week later, I began feeling and then ignoring my signs of pregnancy.  I was ready but then again, I wasn't ready.  Christmas came and went and my period never came.  I woke up the morning after my period never came, went to yoga and then told myself it was time to test.  So after yoga, I went to the store, got a test, came home to pee on a stick and the plus sign appeared.  I couldn't believe it....I don't know why but I figured, I'd have issues getting pregnant even though I pretty much got pregnant every time on the first try.  It just seemed too easy and almost made me angry.  I went a week without telling my husband....  I was hopeful yet TERRIFIED!  I knew it would be a long road.  I was still crying everyday, thinking about my precious Areila and decided, I gave her enough time and that I needed to focus on the baby that I was carrying.  Eckhart Tolle's book, "The Power of Now" became my "bible".  It helped me focus on the pregnancy and every time, my mind would wander and I'd think of the horrible things that could happen in the future, I brought myself back and my inner voice would constantly tell me, "right now, the baby is fine and so are you."  

Well, this worked for the first trimester....

A new year....

Well, I made it through the holidays. I stayed inside, avoided family gatherings and fought with all my being to not melt at the feet of a family friend when she asked asked me how I was doing and why I wasn't joining the rest of my family for their holiday festivities.

I did manage to keep myself very busy. I did A LOT!  I made over 35 pair of pajamas in December.  Some were family and friend's gifts and others were orders.  So, to add to the list....I did a lot of sewing.  I found that I'm a great multi-tasker....crying and sewing!

(My kitchen became my sewing room while my husband was out of town)

I thought very hard about ways to include Areila during the holidays.  Well, I spent quite a bit of time decorating her tree and wreath for the door.  Complete with lavender colored butterflies and ornaments.  I asked that my family contribute an ornament for her tree.

I took it even further with making ornaments with the names of all the babies whose lives ended too soon for all of my loss friends. 

 Anything to keep myself busy!

Here are some of my other projects....

 

My birthday is a couple weeks into the new year and I wanted absolutely no parts of it. I was not about any kind of celebrating and not having my entire family with me to celebrate was a knife in my back. Every facebook birthday greeting, text, and phone call that came in was like that knife was slowly being turned. We baby loss mamas can be pretty damn wacky and irrational but it's OUR reality.

What can I say.... I really, really, dislike this time of year. I'm a real fucking scrooge. It's crazy but holiday music makes me so angry....It is NOT "the most wonderful time of the year", I see no "Winter Wonderland", I will not be "dashing through the fucking snow laughing all the way", I don't have any "Favorite Things" and I'm far from Merry. I was warned by other loss parents that holidays suck but I had no clue. I wanted to stay open and hopeful that I'd somehow be "over it" or past my grief. I was really fucking delusional. I feel like I'm taking tiny steps backwards. I think about her all the time. I look at her sister and I see her. I look at her pictures and the sight of her perfect little hands with her daddy's long fingers, her head full of black hair, and her sweet little heart shaped lips and the pain consumes every ounce of me. I can't breathe. I want so bad to have some sense of peace. I fight really hard to keep my head above water...to be positive...to be kind...to acknowledge my blessings but then I get so damn angry. I replay the days before I lost her and the what ifs... I really fear running into the midwife that I hold responsible for allowing my daughter to die because I don't know if I'd break down and sob or just break and act on all the anger that I hold. I replay the moments after I lost her and how my sister held on to the posibility that they were wrong and she was still alive and how I wish that was true... The horrible 24 fucking hours that I was in labor and the pain that I endured to give birth to death. I don't know how people's faith gets stronger after losing a child. I really don't. I don't know that I can ever forgive myself or whoever/whatever for this. There will never be any justification/explanation that will make sense other than...I was just unlucky. It's been 7 long months and I still find myself saying over and over again..."I cannot believe this is my life". Nothing seems real and I feel like I've been wandering in a fog....going through the motions....just waiting to wake up from this REALLY fucked up nightmare.

So...I had one child die and my oldest is thankfully still alive but I feel like I'm quickly losing her. I've heard several times in the last few years that we might be dealing with behavioral issues and not just emotional which would explain the manipulation, aggression, lying, inability to maintain any "normal" relationship, and her lack of response to treatment. I fought believing it because like any parent that loves their children with all of their being, accepting the fact that their child could always struggle and never really live a "normal" life is like death in a sense. There is really no treatment for personality disorders. You just hope and pray and do everything within in your power to make a difference. She has been with her father for the last week and he is doing everything within his power to accommodate her....walking on "eggshells" as he calls it, to avoid conflict...not enforcing routine or rules....doing everything within his power to put her more at odds with me ....and giving in to her...only creating a more difficult and unrealistic environment for her. So... I'm trying to figure out the next plan or course of treatment for when her father will be unable to handle her (that time will occur soon) and in the meantime, hoping that the Universe will let up a bit on my family and move that dark cloud to above the heads others more deserving. I still hold on to the notion of positive thoughts and energy turning into positive outcomes.... I think.

Oh....JUST SAY IT ALREADY!!!

Have you noticed that people casually say...."love ya" but cannot say I-LOVE-YOU??? There is a difference, ya know? They cannot fully commit to putting it all out there for fear that someone will think they're a kook if they preface it with an 'I'. Silly...huh? I've been taking notes and only a few people have been able to reciprocate my love...well, only a few have found it in themselves to commit to an 'I'. We all know and tend to forget when living in blissful ignorance that tomorrow is never promised...why live with needless regret? So.... I decided to tell those that I dearly care for, how I feel about them. No holding back...no wimping out...I put it out there. I tell others that I-LOVE-THEM. Chances are if you're reading this...you are probably one of my friends and I hope that I've told you that I LOVE YOU! If I haven't yet....here it is....

I LOVE YOU!!!! I FUCKING LOVE... Y-O-U....

Ok, so I went a bit too far with the fucking part.... BUT....you know I love that word. Seriously...Why is it so damn difficult to commit to it? Don't buffer your feelings and don't live with regret! Plus, doesn't if feed your soul to know that in this wicked ass world, there are people that live and love with abandon???

Kinda got what I asked for...

So, I was full of anxiety over going to Thanksgiving dinner and it turned out that I didn't even go. My oldest daughter gave me hell and I spent just about all of the day dealing with her. Hours of keeping her from hurting herself, and...the others in my home but she was mainly after me. It was nasty day.... I don't know how much more I can take or what the hell to do.





Dear Universe....I've had enough and I'd like the shit to stop NOW!!!! Don't know if it's Karma, negative energy, or the fucked up life I chose for myself but I can't do much more. It's taking a toll on my body and I'm figting really damn hard not to be a 'Debbie Downer'.

I'm in....I'm out

I quit a band....

and that band told another band about me....

so I auditioned for a new band....

and I think I'm in that band....

but got a call from another band that knows someone from the other band....

Confused yet? So am I!

Another audition this week. What the hell am I doing?????

Bachelors in Theatre Arts....

(Pretty bad....huh?)

I can smile, laugh and shoot the shit with the best of y'all... but it often pains me to do it. I sometimes feel guily for smiling and laughing. One of my degrees is in theatre and I've truly had to use some of my old skills in the last 6 months. The longer I have to fake it, the more I need to retreat to my safe space and breathe....and get angry and cry because I have to be someone that I'm NOT to protect myself and others.

After retreating to my bedroom to cry as I saw my family and friends gather for Areila's memorial service, I somehow got myself together to get through that day. I fake it for work and I acted/faked it during the benefit concert that I organized. Actually, I'm pretty damn impressed at how good I looked that night. I had an awesome Cheshire Cat smile...I greeted...I hugged....I laughed....I even sang a few songs. I also drank a lot....A LOT!!

(You'd never know I am a hot fucking mess by looking at the pics....huh?)

I don't know how it happens but I somewhat step outside of my body and allow it to go through the motions and appear "normal". I'm so fucking far from normal and I doubt that I will ever be again.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I've never dreaded the holidays more than now. We all know that holidays are meant for happiness and togetherness. It's often a time when new family members get introduced to other family members....when children play...when adults laugh, talk, and reminisce....when babies get passed from arm to arm...moments of bliss. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and although I'm very thankful for my family and friends....the aching and hollow feeling is more intense. How can I be thankful....really? I should be toting around and adorable, cooing, giggling, juicy-legged 6 month old baby. This time last year, I was fantasizing about this year....not being pregnant and having another addition to my beautiful family. There is someone missing.....someone that should be here. I am incomplete and I don't want any parts of the traditions that made our holidays before Areila. I've been so upset not knowing how to include Areila in some way.....but feeling ridiculous that I WANT to include her. She's dead...she's gone...no one really knew her but me and I feel pretty fucking cheated for the 9 months that I had. Why would others care to include her and won't they think I'm a kook for wanting and needing it? I really don't want to go but I'm going....for my husband and my girls....for the rest of my family. Mainly, so they don't try to put me in the crazy place for not understanding that I will feel incredibly insecure, self-conscious, unthankful and guilty, for feeling unthankful....and would rather be curled up in a chair with my pajamas on.

So, tomorrow I will put on my glasses, hope that we're in a dimly lit room so that others don't see the tears that will well up in my eyes and I will work really fucking hard to keep the tears from overflowing....and I will smile my fake ass smile to protect my husband and children so that they can have the holiday that they deserve. Wish me luck!

Please let there be no babies.....

Ok, ok...I'm going....

I-got-out-of-the-fucking-house (for myself) to spend time with a friend that I would not have even gotten to know on this level if it weren't for my precious Areila. Lets just say that she knows me on a level that none of my friends have ever known. :) The circumstances behind it are REALLY, REALLY fucked up but I'm so glad and grateful to have my friends and (supportive) family. We drove 45mins. away to grub on some delish vegetarian Indian food. Nom Nom... (forget the roaches that I saw in the bathroom) This friend probably doesn't know it, but she's given me and taught me sooooo much. She is TRULY what I mentioned in my previous posts....I see "god" (divine) in her.... Who needs religion when people alone, emit goodness, love, and light!?!?!?

P.S.....I've been drinking but I promise that I won't edit this post when I'm sober....

Fur babies....

A few months after losing Areila, I went outside to pick some fresh basil and parsley for dinner and heard a squeeling/squeeking coming from the front yard. I recognized the noise as an animal in distress and as I turned to follow the noise, I saw a baby animal scurry across the lawn. I thought to myself....oh fuck, I DO NOT want to be mama to an orphaned baby animal. I walked closer and saw that it was a baby rabbit, looked around and didn't see any other animal, but noticed its nest was torn apart and scattered across the lawn. When I approached it unsteadily scurried under a bush and I was going to leave it there in hopes that the mother would appear after I left but as I walked away, it reappeared on the sidewalk. Again, I thought...fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, I scooped it up and brought it down to my husband to hold. When I opened the door I heard the loudest distressed squeel and saw a tiny animal running for its life down the street while a crow was attacking charging. I ran out into the street and scared the crow away and scooped up the poor traumatized rabbit. I looked around for any others and found no more....damn crow got them.

(Om (left), Shanti (right)

I presented another bunny to my husband and all I could do was let out another.... "fuck." I've done wildlife rehab in the past. I've been able to nurse and release many wild animals back to the wind.... oppossums, skunks, squirrels, raccoons, groundhougs....never have I been able to keep rabbits alive. I thought for sure that the one rabbit that was attacked by the crow would die of shock. Oh....and I was not in the mindset to lose another creature but....I had no choice. Gosh, I just wish I wasn't there at that time and nature could have run its course without my knowing . I did some research and made it my mission t keep these precious bunnies alive....luckily they were about a week old and weren't totally helpless newborns.

I can't begin to tell you how serious I took being foster baby bunny mama. I woke up every few hours at night, mixed formula, prepared probiotics and even mixed poo with formula (rabbits are cecotropes/poop eaters) to maintain healthy digestive flora. I gradually weened them from formula as I introduced various greens. I was constantly on the lookout for grasses/flowers that I thought they would enjoy and eat. It was truly insane....I was always scouting out places to stop and pick grasses. They grew quickly grew and became eating and pooping machines. I even found a babysitter for them while I went into the hospital for surgery.

(Om and Shanti~couple days before release)

The time came for them to be released. They were still small but old enough to care for themselves in the wild. I felt like they had a better chance for survival in the wild than in my care. I released them at dusk, as suggested. The one little guy (Shanti) scurried away while the other (Om) hung around for quite some time. My husband and I hoped that they would come back and somewhat remember me but I interacted with them as little as possible so that they would fear humans. Everytime I see a rabbit in the yard, I hope that it is one of "my babies".

(Om~release)

Yes....I am a true dork for naming the bunnies Om and Shanti.

Dorothy wasn't lying....

There is truly no place like home!!!

One of my ways of coping has been to avoid people by not leaving the house....not answering the phone....not answering the door. At the very beginning of my loss...I just couldn't talk...I didn't know what to do, think or say....and it was the same for my family and friends. So, I made it easy on all of us and kept my distance. Far too often, people would unintentionally say the wrong damn thing and fuck me up for days. I know, most people had/have good intentions but sometimes, the fewer the words, the better. My advice for others....Just listen, be thoughtful and careful....sometimes less is more and know when to keep your fucking mouth shut!

I have to say....my best friend has been the most amazing friend to me. She is truly a special person that just knows the right things to do and say. She is one of two people that has not fucked up and sent me spiraling downwards. Amazing that a woman who doesn't have children of her own, other than her amazing fur babies, has been so incredibly supportive and understanding. Goes to show....you don't have to truly KNOW what someone has gone through and continues to go through but compassion and openness can mean so much to a grieving person.

Let me also add.... my cousin and mainly, his wife to that short list of exceptionally supportive people. They watched my 3yr old the whole time I was in the hospital and continued to be so wonderful, and show so much love and support to my family. I cannot say enough about their kindness and understanding. I can go on forever about how helpful she has been...never expecting or even accepting anything in return.

These people that I mentioned are examples of what I mentioned in a previous post....they truly have the divine in them!

So, as I mentioned before.... I eliminated a lot of people from my life..."friends" AND family. I've got cousins, aunts, uncles, and step-siblings....many....that haven't even said"boo" to me since losing Areila. I do get it....it's awkward...it's uncomfortable. What do you say to a person whose baby died before he/she was born? Or perhaps many, like my father, don't see Areila's death as a significant loss because, "it's not like she was born alive". Well, she was very alive in me for 9 months....and when her perfect little body entered this world...I expected and hoped that she would be REAL for everyone else.

Two weeks after giving birth to Areila.... My mother told me to basically be thankful for my living children. I had no words....all I could do was cry. YES, YES....I am so blessed/fortunate and GRATEFUL to have my beautiful girls but there is one missing...forever gone. I felt so guilty and torn....I still do. For feeling so inadequate because I'm grieving for my child that no one truly knows, other than myself and for not giving my all to my living children. When I do give my all (because I often have to )to my living children, I feel guilty and fear that I will forget Areila. My biggest fear is that Areila will soon be forgotten...I fight really hard to hold onto every thought, touch, vision, smell, emotion, and memory that surrounds her. I don't get very far trying to get my 3yr old to commit to telling her future children about Areila, 40yrs from now. I think it was after my mom's "words of support" that I opened the bottle of rum for the first time in 10 months.

Well, of course my mother, mother-in-law, and step-mother suggested very, very shortly after losing Areila, that I get some "help" for my "depression". I resisted it and continue to resist it because I've never been a depressed person....grief and depression have similarities but they are not the same. My step-mother was a great support in the beginning but after about a month or so....she very abruptly distanced herself from me....I'm just going to assume that my grief was more than she wanted to deal with. WHATEVER. I'm not close to my mother-in-law so whatever my husband reports satisfies her "concern" because he doesn't report her "happy pill" suggestion to me anymore. As for my mother....I avoided her like the plague....and I feel terrible for the fact that it drove her crazy but I had to protect myself. If I cried or showed my pain.... I was judged and being judged for mourning the loss of a child is really fucked up. Even now, when I speak to my mother....she never mentions Areila and I don't bring her up because shedding a tear for my precious baby could turn into more judgement. The fact that I have to do this hurts my heart. I do get it...she too, is a mother and it pains her to see her child in pain. Mothers feel that they have an eternal duty to protect and "help" when their children are in trouble. Sigh...

I was going to share the details of a family gathering that I very, very reluctantly attended. It was on the 3 month mark and I was already a hot mess. I'll try to briefly recap. I felt like the big purple elephant with pink spots when I entered....if there was a record playing, I'm pretty sure we all would have heard the needle scratch across the album. I felt so insecure...so empty so vulnerable. I still do, which is why home is the only place that I feel any comfort. Anyway, someone had the fucking nerve to tell me that I was glowing and asked if I was pregnant again. HUH? I can barely get out of my bed some days...or even shower for days....hell, most of the time I barely know the day of the week....and it would be oh so simple for me to just be pregnant again...huh? Ok, there was a baby there....around the same age as what Areila should have been. He was being passed around from person to person, and all I kept thinking was...Areila should also be admired the same way that baby was. The mother of the baby was a friend of the family and even though I didn't go to her baby shower...I did send some things to her. She didn't even look my way....no thank you's, no "I'm sorries", not even a hello. I don't need to tell you what I did once I got home and on facebook.) I had to leave at one point and walked around the block when I wanted to have another drink but the baby was at the drink table and....after my aunt who, never called or sent a fucking card made a point to tell me, "how good I look....sorry about the baby....but you look really good." Then, two close family members decided to walk in front of me with "the baby" and then put the baby in my mother's arms as she was sitting right across from me at the table. It was too much and I gathered my children and husband and left. I texted something letting them know that I was hurt. When I shared my texted message, others didn't think it offensive but, clearly it offended this family member because they haven't spoken to me in over 3 months.

Oh...and how fucked up is your life when you spend your time at a party avoiding a baby?

Well.....the next day, I got a call from my mother. I, of course, didn't answer the phone so she left the sweetest little message about how I was basically destroying the family, and how disappointed she was in me for leaving and not saying goodbye. She was so pissed, she even called my husband who came to my rescue and explained things to her....that it was 3 months to the day that Areila was born, that I was missing her, that family functions will never be the same because we're missing one of our children, and that we were hurt by everyone's thoughtless actions. She cooled down some BUT.... about month later, she told me that I should apologize.

As I said before....I was in a very dark place for weeks and took myself to see a grief therapist who made me feel confident that my actions and feelings weren't foreign or out-of-line. She basically told me that I should not feel obligated to apologize for my grief making others feel uncomfortable. I still tried to put myself in their position and understand why they were so offended. It bothers me that I became the "bad guy" after being the one that suffered a devastating loss. Now, 6 months to the day...I am still "the bad" guy because he has yet to speak to me or stay in the room with me for longer than a couple minutes. Fucked up, huh?

Ok, the other day....my sister and I were discussing my oldest daughter and she stopped the conversation to tell me that she will never forget Areila. Her voice quivered, she sniffled, and had a hard time speaking as she explained to me that she doesnt mention Areila because she doesn't want to upset me but, Areila has helped her to cherish every good and bad moment of parenting her 3 beautiful children and to never ever take a moment for granted. What she said took my breath away because it took almost 6months for her to tell me this. I let her know that Areila is constantly on my mind and mentioning her name might bring tears but it's not because I don't want to speak of her. Yes, thinking about her and mentioning her name still makes me often cry because there is an emptiness in my heart and soul but I need to talk about her....I need others to recognize and remember her. I have a hard time letting others know this.

After speaking to my sister, I realized that I need to communicate my needs to others so that they can understand and support. That's pretty simple but most of the time, I have no fucking clue what I need or what the hell is going on in my mind and heart. Yet another reason why I avoid people....I'm too fucked up to help myself. It's a viscous cycle and some days, I find myself more assertive and can somewhat tell others what I feel and need while on other days, I find myself having to fight back tears as soon as I begin to speak.

So, people will continue to ignore me when I occasionally mention that I had a child die 4 days before her expected delivery date or that I have 3 children, 2 living.... and folks at work will continue to avoid interacting with me so that they don't have to mention my loss. (No need for them to worry....I only leave my classroom for meetings and potty breaks) Our neighbors will continue to avoid us like the plague.... Hell, my poor husband hasn't spoken to the once friendly folks, that live behind us all summer and we will continue to be univited to the yearly gatherings. No one will mention her to us because dammit, what will they say? A simple...."I have no words because I don't know...or perhaps they do know... but, know I'm sorry or I'm thinking of you." Avoiding and ignoring is like saying "fuck you to your family and to your dead baby....glad it's not me." So....I make everyone else comfortable by keeping my distance, avoiding them as much as they avoid me, and staying home as much as possible.... It's kinda difficult when you have a job, and children.

I had no clue that I'd ever take offense to the simple question, "how are you?" People don't really want that answer.... "Well, I cry too fucking much, I don't know what day it is, I don't sleep well, my memory is shot, I walk around in circles most of the day, speaking of circles....have you seen my eyes?....I worry all the time, guilt rests super heavy on my heart, I'm really really fucking angry at myself and the people that were supposed to know better, and I dislike interacting with most people because they don't fucking get it nor do they care to get it."

Oh....and there are triggers. EVERYWHERE. Babies, holidays, sometimes my 3yr old because Areila looked so much like her, families with 3 children, walking through the baby section of stores to get to the toddler section, sometimes even seeing pregnant women because I wonder if they KNOW that babies die or if they will be 'next', tv commercials, billboards, and stupid acting people that feel it necessary to complain about the "normal" and wonderful things that babies do. Oh what I wouldn't give...to be 50lbs heavier, washing poopy diapers, and waking up several times at night to nurse a baby.

My poor husband...I cry everywhere and on several occassions, I've broken down at the dinner table...in restaurants. I really have no control over it because once I get to a certain point....there is absolutely no way that I can stop the tears. I'm pretty sure I'm developing a bit of agoraphobia....crowds cause me to have great anxiety because of the reasons I stated above. One of these days he'll learn and keep my ass at home. Poor guy....