I've perused a lot of message boards lately, just reading stories of child loss and stillbirth. I haven't decided if its a 'good' thing or not. But I cope by reading and writing, and reading the stories of others gives me some perspective so even though it puts me in a sad weepy mood, I think its a positive way for me to cope. One thing I've realized is that child loss is not uncommon. Stillbirth is much more common than I think most pregnant women realize, but in general, people lose children at every stage in the lifecourse. One post that really caught my attention, however, was the post of a woman who 'lost' a child, but the child didn't die. She was forced into an adoption when she was a teenager.
Reading this post was an epiphany for me. You see, my mom flipped when all of this happened. Don't get me wrong, we were all knocked on our asses when Myles died. My mom, however, was literally knocked on her ass. She couldn't function. She was dazed, and nonresponsive, and basically she became a zombie. And I was annoyed with it at the time, and other family members I think were pissed because she didn't hold up better for me. And they were right in the fact that I didn't need to be worried by my mom when I still had to give birth, etc. But what I realized afterwards, what I've come to understand so clearly now, is that there was a reason my mom acted that way. Why it shook her to her core, perhaps more than even me. My mom has experienced what I experienced. And in a way, she had to experience it all over again when I lost Myles. You see, she gave up a baby for adoption in 1970, when she was 16.
I think what disturbs me the most when I compare our two experiences is that my mom got more time with Myles' dead body than she got with her very much alive baby girl. Can you imagine? She had more time to say goodbye to my dead son, her grandson, than to her own newborn healthy little daughter. I think about all of the momentos given to me to remember him by, and the care and support I've received from countless people. Do you think my Mom got these things? Her arms were just as empty as mine when we left hospitals 25 years apart. She got her milk, like I did, she had to see other pregnant women and other babies just like I have to see. And goddamnit, she experienced an infant loss. And just like many women who have experienced a stillbirth will attest to, many people want you to move on, have another baby, etc., etc., much sooner than we're ready to. With my Mom's adoption, take that times 10. She had to do it, and be ashamed about it, and then she was told to MOVE ON. She didn't have any support, or any closure, just the assurance that it was for the best. It breaks my heart and boils my blood just thinking about what that must have been like for her.
And you know what? Giving up her baby probably wasn't 'for the best'. Because my mom is a great mom, and she would've been a great mom to that little girl. She didn't have big plans for her life, she was in the working class, she had no plans for college, no bright and shiny middle class dreams she was aspiring to. Her life tanked after that adoption; drugs, prison, etc., until she met my Dad and had my older brother in 1975. That baby would've saved her life. If you've read 'promises I could keep' than you know what I'm talking about. The only thing my mom didn't have was a father to the baby, or resources to support herself. But in the most important sense, she had everything she needed to be a good mom to that baby, because my Mom has the biggest heart in the world.
Which brings me to another point. Even today, especially for women in the middle class, having a baby outside of marriage is seen as a dream destroyer. And we can argue all day about whether it is or not as many single moms have achieved their dreams. But this perception, this aversion to babies (BABIES!!!!) I think is quite telling in our society. Why is our society structured so that for the majority of women, a mistimed pregnancy is feared as much or more than many STD's? Baby's don't just naturally destroy your life. They are not inherently good or bad, it is the social norms that surround that new baby that are met with approval or disapproval, and MORE IMPORTANTLY, with love and support and other important social resources or the denial of all of those things. And because of this, adoption seems like the ultimate coercion to me. Because our society doesn't want to support pregnant women, but we also don't want women to have free will and therefore the freedom to abort the children they have no personal or social resources to support. So we march out infertile couples who meet all of the standards, individuals who are 'deserving', and we take babies from the undeserving and hand them over.
And the whole time we're doing this, we convince these pregnant women that the baby that is growing inside of them is 'better off' with someone else. And when they birth that baby and hand that baby over, do they really have a choice? Aren't they losing their baby they've MOTHERED for 40 weeks in their womb, just like I lost my baby Myles?
I'm all for adoption in a world where women really have a choice. But my mom didn't have a choice. She was just a teenager who got pregnant and then was convinced to give her baby away. It haunts my mom to this day. And how many adoptions today are freely entered into? How many adoptions just wouldn't be if we as a society weren't structured so that the lives of 'undeserving' (whether they are teens, or a unmarried, or poor, or whatever) women are ruined for choosing to keep and care for the babies they carry.
I am 100% pro-choice, no ifs ands or buts. I also believe that the fewer mistimed pregnancies and abortions we have in our society the better our society is. And therefore, logically, I think the fewer ADOPTIONS we have in our society, the better. I know there are many childless couples out there, but they are not entitled to the babies of the young, poor, and/or uneducated. Because taking babies from these mothers is wrong. Period. Because we as a society are doing to them is what happened by chance to me. And I have a hard time believing that women walk away from coerced adoptions happy and healthy. And truly how many adoptions in the US can we honestly say are completely free of coercion?
So, I am not a proponent of adoption. Despite knowing that the individuals who adopt babies just want so bad what I want; a tiny little baby to call their own. I know their pain intimately, I long for what they long for. And I don't know what to tell them about my opinion, because in a perfect world, my arguments ultimately lead to the conclusion that the vast majority of infertile couples would be childless. But I'm not going to pretend that it is okay to remedy what happens by chance (infertility) by purposefully doing to women what happened by chance to me.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The inevitable
This entire time, one of my greatest fears has been running into someone who doesn't know about Myles. Well, it finally just happened. But you know what? It wasn't that bad.
It was one of my former students. She had me this summer for stats, I was so big so fast with this pregnancy, I'm sure the whole class thought I could go any day, and that was August! And the whole time I'm talking to her, for her sake, I'm hoping she doesn't ask. I'm thinking, please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask. And, finally, she asked. And I told her. And she felt terrible. But you know what? I didn't start bawling. And I kept the conversation light, and although I know she felt more than awkward about it, I'm happy I made it through it.
So, it is what it is, and it's something I'm glad I don't have to dread anymore. Because if I did it this time, then I can do it next time. And as time goes on, I'll have to do it less and less.
And to be honest, that's part of the reason I came back to school today. I've had a couple people ask me why I'm here today. And I thought about it, and I wasn't really sure. There is nothing here I need to do today that I can't do from home. But the more I sit here and think about it, the more I realized this is what I needed to do. I needed to come back to work and school. Just to come back and to be seen and to get my mail and to say 'hi' to people who haven't seen me and to get over this hump.
Because even at the hospital, one of my first worries was becoming some sort of harbinger of death to everyone around me. Especially my pregnant friends, I instantly felt so bad for them. Isn't that stupid, I lose a baby and I worry about what everyone is going to think or how they will feel? I don't know what's wrong with me. I've often wondered if I'm some sort of sociopath, LOL. I guess I just don't like bumming people out. I want to make people happy, not sad. I want to give my pregnant friends hope and strength, not fear. And having to tell people about Myles, its just not something I've wanted to do in person with anyone.
So, now I know I can do it, I can talk about Myles, I can tell people what happened. And getting over this hump gives me a little peace anyway. That maybe the days to come won't be as bad as I imagined, that I will be able to pick up the pieces with a little bit of normalcy. That I'm still the same person, and that my life is still my life, and the world hasn't come to an end. Because I guess somedays it has really felt that way. It's felt like the whole world has changed. And I've been a little scared about finding my niche in that world again. But maybe I can do it.
It was one of my former students. She had me this summer for stats, I was so big so fast with this pregnancy, I'm sure the whole class thought I could go any day, and that was August! And the whole time I'm talking to her, for her sake, I'm hoping she doesn't ask. I'm thinking, please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask. And, finally, she asked. And I told her. And she felt terrible. But you know what? I didn't start bawling. And I kept the conversation light, and although I know she felt more than awkward about it, I'm happy I made it through it.
So, it is what it is, and it's something I'm glad I don't have to dread anymore. Because if I did it this time, then I can do it next time. And as time goes on, I'll have to do it less and less.
And to be honest, that's part of the reason I came back to school today. I've had a couple people ask me why I'm here today. And I thought about it, and I wasn't really sure. There is nothing here I need to do today that I can't do from home. But the more I sit here and think about it, the more I realized this is what I needed to do. I needed to come back to work and school. Just to come back and to be seen and to get my mail and to say 'hi' to people who haven't seen me and to get over this hump.
Because even at the hospital, one of my first worries was becoming some sort of harbinger of death to everyone around me. Especially my pregnant friends, I instantly felt so bad for them. Isn't that stupid, I lose a baby and I worry about what everyone is going to think or how they will feel? I don't know what's wrong with me. I've often wondered if I'm some sort of sociopath, LOL. I guess I just don't like bumming people out. I want to make people happy, not sad. I want to give my pregnant friends hope and strength, not fear. And having to tell people about Myles, its just not something I've wanted to do in person with anyone.
So, now I know I can do it, I can talk about Myles, I can tell people what happened. And getting over this hump gives me a little peace anyway. That maybe the days to come won't be as bad as I imagined, that I will be able to pick up the pieces with a little bit of normalcy. That I'm still the same person, and that my life is still my life, and the world hasn't come to an end. Because I guess somedays it has really felt that way. It's felt like the whole world has changed. And I've been a little scared about finding my niche in that world again. But maybe I can do it.
Angry
My SIL sent me this poem last week, I really really liked it.
If.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
--Rudyard Kipling
There are some verses in this poem that I've been thinking a lot about:
Or [if you can] watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
And I guess somedays I've thought, you know, I can do that. I can do that. I can stand back up from this, and brush myself off, and start again. And days like today, I think that there is no fucking way I can do that. That I can't just start all over again and do what I did. Because what I did these last 9 months was really fucking hard. And how do you give your life to something like that, how do you risk everything when you know what I know now; that there are no guarantees. Because I did it the first time on the assumption that it would pay off. I did it under the assumption that I was sacrificing FOR something, not for nothing.
So I'm angry, and I don't have anybody to be angry with except myself. And it's stupid, and I know it's stupid, but what do you do with this kind of anger when there is absolutely nobody to be angry with? All I have is me. And I just feel so stupid, and so naive, and so angry with myself for never once considering that I could lose it all. That I could put all my eggs in one basket like that, and never consider once that it might be for nothing. Because if I had really appreciated that reality, then I would've done so many things differently. With Simone, and with school, and with everything. If I had ever once even considered that possibility, I wouldn't be so lost right now.
If.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
--Rudyard Kipling
There are some verses in this poem that I've been thinking a lot about:
Or [if you can] watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
And I guess somedays I've thought, you know, I can do that. I can do that. I can stand back up from this, and brush myself off, and start again. And days like today, I think that there is no fucking way I can do that. That I can't just start all over again and do what I did. Because what I did these last 9 months was really fucking hard. And how do you give your life to something like that, how do you risk everything when you know what I know now; that there are no guarantees. Because I did it the first time on the assumption that it would pay off. I did it under the assumption that I was sacrificing FOR something, not for nothing.
So I'm angry, and I don't have anybody to be angry with except myself. And it's stupid, and I know it's stupid, but what do you do with this kind of anger when there is absolutely nobody to be angry with? All I have is me. And I just feel so stupid, and so naive, and so angry with myself for never once considering that I could lose it all. That I could put all my eggs in one basket like that, and never consider once that it might be for nothing. Because if I had really appreciated that reality, then I would've done so many things differently. With Simone, and with school, and with everything. If I had ever once even considered that possibility, I wouldn't be so lost right now.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Perspective
I've done a lot of hand wringing about some of my past pregnancy blogs. I use my private blog many times as a bitchfest (as if I'm telling you something you don't know), and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I've wished I could take some of it back. Okay, that's putting mildly. I wish I could go back and punch myself in the head, LMAO. I've got this great visual of it I wish I you could all see, similar to that Andy Samberg video where he punches people in the head while they're eating that I bulletined out a few weeks ago.
I think back on some of my blogs and I feel like I was so ungrateful and so entitled. It was a hard pregnancy, I know that, but honestly I'd do a thousand more weeks of bedrest for a different outcome. I would do the whole pregnancy over again a thousand times. What wouldn't I do? I know this is a stupid game to play with myself, I'm pretty hard on myself when it comes to self reflection, but there is some truth to my critiques.
The blog that's bothered me the most was when I was angry about my mom suggesting I 'enjoy my pregnancy'. To me, pregnancy has always been a means to an end; no intrinsic value whatsoever. I thought the same with DD's pregnancy, and hers was a relatively easy pregnancy in comparison. For some reason I always knew birth was intrinsically valuable, a reason why I was so disappointed with DD's birth and why I put so much emphasis on the type of birth I wanted for Myles. And even now, the birth of Myles was one of the positive things I can look to, despite the circumstances. I like to joke that I'm no longer a proponent of natural child birth having done it now, but it's a joke. I wouldn't change a thing. There were some wonderful moments, when my daughter and niece hopped in the jacuzzi with me as I labored and began singing to me, 'the sun will come out tomorrow'. But I digress. I guess what I'm saying is I don't think I'll think the same when/if I do this whole pregnancy thing again. There were many special moments in my pregnancy, ones I wish I would've documented better now.
And in general, maybe there should be a little intrinsic value in everything we do. Okay, maybe not everything (getting the oil changed in your car probably has no value, he he), but as many seemingly mundane things as we can possibly manage. One of my major flaws is I'm entirely too goal oriented. Look at me. I've planned the last 2 years for a baby (seriously, we planned the date of conception 9 months in advance, LOL, I'm dead serious. really.). I scheduled my whole life around this baby, I made myself utterly miserable because of said scheduling (comps, teaching, etc.). And. Here. I. Am. We've sacrificed so much, S, me, B. I've been a total bitch sometimes because of the stress. Think of all the time I wasted, all the hours I wished away.
Okay, so I know I'm no genius here. I experience the death of a loved one and now I value life more. But fuck it, that's exactly how I feel. I've been on some message boards for people who have lost a child (of all ages), and I also realize that there is a lot of tragedy in this world and I'm not immune. But I've got a lot of things in my life to appreciate, Simone and B most of all. So some of the past days have been hard. S asked me when I was going to stop crying, LOL, most of the times she ignores me, but she is getting a little bored with the whole mourning thing. I told her probably never, but that I'll cry less and less as time goes on. Of course, even as I say this to her she's yawning. But this morning, as I layed in bed going over everything in my head again for the thousandth time, I think I turned a small corner. I don't think I'm going to stop crying, but I think I'm going to be a little more positive in the in between times. Because even now, I can't be wasting these days. I've wasted too much time in the past six months just waiting for the shit to blow over. And it's stupid, because that 'shit' is my life, and I better fucking make the most of it.
I think back on some of my blogs and I feel like I was so ungrateful and so entitled. It was a hard pregnancy, I know that, but honestly I'd do a thousand more weeks of bedrest for a different outcome. I would do the whole pregnancy over again a thousand times. What wouldn't I do? I know this is a stupid game to play with myself, I'm pretty hard on myself when it comes to self reflection, but there is some truth to my critiques.
The blog that's bothered me the most was when I was angry about my mom suggesting I 'enjoy my pregnancy'. To me, pregnancy has always been a means to an end; no intrinsic value whatsoever. I thought the same with DD's pregnancy, and hers was a relatively easy pregnancy in comparison. For some reason I always knew birth was intrinsically valuable, a reason why I was so disappointed with DD's birth and why I put so much emphasis on the type of birth I wanted for Myles. And even now, the birth of Myles was one of the positive things I can look to, despite the circumstances. I like to joke that I'm no longer a proponent of natural child birth having done it now, but it's a joke. I wouldn't change a thing. There were some wonderful moments, when my daughter and niece hopped in the jacuzzi with me as I labored and began singing to me, 'the sun will come out tomorrow'. But I digress. I guess what I'm saying is I don't think I'll think the same when/if I do this whole pregnancy thing again. There were many special moments in my pregnancy, ones I wish I would've documented better now.
And in general, maybe there should be a little intrinsic value in everything we do. Okay, maybe not everything (getting the oil changed in your car probably has no value, he he), but as many seemingly mundane things as we can possibly manage. One of my major flaws is I'm entirely too goal oriented. Look at me. I've planned the last 2 years for a baby (seriously, we planned the date of conception 9 months in advance, LOL, I'm dead serious. really.). I scheduled my whole life around this baby, I made myself utterly miserable because of said scheduling (comps, teaching, etc.). And. Here. I. Am. We've sacrificed so much, S, me, B. I've been a total bitch sometimes because of the stress. Think of all the time I wasted, all the hours I wished away.
Okay, so I know I'm no genius here. I experience the death of a loved one and now I value life more. But fuck it, that's exactly how I feel. I've been on some message boards for people who have lost a child (of all ages), and I also realize that there is a lot of tragedy in this world and I'm not immune. But I've got a lot of things in my life to appreciate, Simone and B most of all. So some of the past days have been hard. S asked me when I was going to stop crying, LOL, most of the times she ignores me, but she is getting a little bored with the whole mourning thing. I told her probably never, but that I'll cry less and less as time goes on. Of course, even as I say this to her she's yawning. But this morning, as I layed in bed going over everything in my head again for the thousandth time, I think I turned a small corner. I don't think I'm going to stop crying, but I think I'm going to be a little more positive in the in between times. Because even now, I can't be wasting these days. I've wasted too much time in the past six months just waiting for the shit to blow over. And it's stupid, because that 'shit' is my life, and I better fucking make the most of it.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Just sad
It seems that most of my days are filled with attempts at trying to forget I should have a tiny baby to take care of. I just feel like something very essential to me is missing. What I wouldn't give to be pregnant right now, to know that I have another one on the way to fill the void in my life. You prepare so much for a new baby. Because I'm already a mom, I knew what it was it going to take. It was so tangible. And I just wanted to wrap myself in that experience this time. The first time around, I just wanted to get through it, like a war or something. This time I knew what I was getting and I was so looking forward to every little piece of it. Yes, even lugging a carseat around, and the poops and the laundry and the vaccinations. Everything. Mostly, I just couldn't wait to breastfeed again, and cosleep again, and carry that little baby on my chest by my heart.
It hurts so bad to remember each day what is missing. Should I forget? When I was in the tub with my daughter awaiting to give birth to Myles, she began singing, "the sun will come out, tomorrow." It was so sweet. Now I can't stop thinking of Daddy Warbucks singing,
And someday I'll forget,
how much s/he meant to me,
and how s/he was almost my baby, maybe.
Part of me does want to forget, this instant, that I was ever pregnant. I feel so guilty about it. That baby meant everything to me, everything. I just wish I could look down now, from behind my laptop and there he would be in a bouncy, sleeping soundly, with his sweet little eyes closed. I feel like he is still here sometimes. But it hurts too bad to think these types of thoughts all day. If I forget, than I can get on with my life, and maybe have another pregnancy, and just forget that I should have a baby right now. A beautiful baby boy.
It hurts so bad to remember each day what is missing. Should I forget? When I was in the tub with my daughter awaiting to give birth to Myles, she began singing, "the sun will come out, tomorrow." It was so sweet. Now I can't stop thinking of Daddy Warbucks singing,
And someday I'll forget,
how much s/he meant to me,
and how s/he was almost my baby, maybe.
Part of me does want to forget, this instant, that I was ever pregnant. I feel so guilty about it. That baby meant everything to me, everything. I just wish I could look down now, from behind my laptop and there he would be in a bouncy, sleeping soundly, with his sweet little eyes closed. I feel like he is still here sometimes. But it hurts too bad to think these types of thoughts all day. If I forget, than I can get on with my life, and maybe have another pregnancy, and just forget that I should have a baby right now. A beautiful baby boy.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Where are the grieving atheists?
You wouldn't believe how pressured I feel to have some religious epiphany lately. My only recourse is making jokes. Right now, my schtick is that I now believe in God . . . and he is most definitely evil. No really, I have a hard time believing that religious conversions are so effective in times of tragedy. Am I that naive?
All I can think of is how ineffective religion would be in helping me deal with the loss of my child. If I were a religious person, I think I would be plaqued by the 'whys'. Or the whole, 'why do bad things happen to good people' BS. Currently, these aren't the types of things I'm dwelling on, and they weren't when it all happened. I almost feel bad for deeply religious people who find themselves in these situations. I became an atheist, not through tragedy, but through a long organic rational process. Tragedy, in my mind, is probably the worst way to become an atheist. Atheism isn't about anger, after all.
All I know about what happened to me is that I'm a statistic, a rare one. I'm not a bad person, I didn't deserve to lose my son, no one deserves this. And nobody, certainly no omnipotent entity, would 'do' this to someone. There is no justification, no long term 'lesson' to be learned, no big picture that could possibly satisfy or justify what has happened to me and my family. So any talk of such just makes me frustrated with the silliness of it. Do people really expect me to believe that a) god is loving, b) he nevertheless 'took' my son, c) it was a good thing that this happened in 'the big picture', d) that people are rewarded for doing gods work and punished for not, e) but because I'm a 'good' person I'm not one of those people being punished. Who can believe that all at the same time and not have their head explode? Really, if religious people were being honest with me and themselves, they would say that this happened because I'm a non-believer. Am I wrong?
All I can think of is how ineffective religion would be in helping me deal with the loss of my child. If I were a religious person, I think I would be plaqued by the 'whys'. Or the whole, 'why do bad things happen to good people' BS. Currently, these aren't the types of things I'm dwelling on, and they weren't when it all happened. I almost feel bad for deeply religious people who find themselves in these situations. I became an atheist, not through tragedy, but through a long organic rational process. Tragedy, in my mind, is probably the worst way to become an atheist. Atheism isn't about anger, after all.
All I know about what happened to me is that I'm a statistic, a rare one. I'm not a bad person, I didn't deserve to lose my son, no one deserves this. And nobody, certainly no omnipotent entity, would 'do' this to someone. There is no justification, no long term 'lesson' to be learned, no big picture that could possibly satisfy or justify what has happened to me and my family. So any talk of such just makes me frustrated with the silliness of it. Do people really expect me to believe that a) god is loving, b) he nevertheless 'took' my son, c) it was a good thing that this happened in 'the big picture', d) that people are rewarded for doing gods work and punished for not, e) but because I'm a 'good' person I'm not one of those people being punished. Who can believe that all at the same time and not have their head explode? Really, if religious people were being honest with me and themselves, they would say that this happened because I'm a non-believer. Am I wrong?
Myles Ray, stillborn, 11/24/07
This pregnancy seemed to be wrought with so many issues, I had worried something like this would happen, call it a mother's intuition. I measured 7 cms big throughout, had numerous infections (shingles, chronic ear infections which I've never had in my life, carpal tunnel, you name it) and preterm labor at 28 weeks followed by bed rest. It's like my immune system just tanked.
I went to my midwife appointment on Tuesday morning at 9:15am, Myles' heartbeat was 153 and he was moving around. It was the week of Thanksgiving and it was the first year I've ever had it at my house and my mom and stepdad came down to spend it with my B (my dear husband), S(my dear daughter), and I. Needless to say, Wednesday and Thursday were busy, and I didn't think too much about Myles. I was actually hoping all the excitement would put me into labor. I'd been anxiously awaiting Thanksgiving since the beginning of the pregnancy, and especially after the preterm labor and bedrest; reaching week 37 on Friday was so important to me. It felt like such a huge accomplishment to make it to term, I was so happy all that week.
It was probably thursday night when B and I sat down to watch a movie that I first thought that it seemed like it had a been a while since I felt him move. I assured myself he was fine, that I was so busy those last two days I just hadn't paid attention. When I woke up that Friday morning, I felt crampy, but nothing too unusual. I've had an 'irritable uterus' throughout the pregnancy and I was used to the uncomfortable BH contractions by now. The only eery part about that night was that for the first time in 6 months I slept for seven hours straight. I usually wake up at least 3 times, if not 5 or 6, so I was a little concerned that I had slept so soundly. I mentioned it to my sister that morning on the phone, and I took the uninterrupted night of sleep as more of a sign that perhaps labor was imminent, and not that something was wrong.
Starting about 1pm on Friday, I noticed my BH contractions were a lot closer than they have been over the last few weeks. I started tracking them and they were five to seven minutes apart. They weren't painful yet, however, so I didn't quite know what to do. I was 37 weeks on that day, so I thought that I should wait until I get a more clear indication that this was real labor. I've had so many false labor contractions before, I didn't want to call in for nothing now that I was finally term. I finally decided to call my midwife at 9pm that night, as the contractions had remained steady, they never strengthened. I mentioned the contractions and that I had been worried I hadn't felt him for a while and she sent me in for a non stress test just to be safe. I wasn't at all concerned about the movements, mostly because I've heard they slow down during labor. For the most part, I went to the hospital fully expecting to be back home that night.
I got to the hospital and immediately became very scared when they didn't find his heartbeat right away. They've never had trouble before. I was in shock and I was alone, I really thought this trip to the hospital would be nothing. It took an hour for someone with an ultrasound to come in but they wouldn't let me look at the screen so I watched the eyes of midwife and nurse. Needless to say, there was not a flicker of hope. B and S walked in right at that moment, and he looked into my eyes and knew; we just hugged and bawled. S was confused, she imagined her brother was 'broken' and suggested we use tape to fix him. We tried our best to explain it to her, but she didn't quite understand. We called my mom who was an hour away at her MIL's house (my stepdad's mom) and she came right away. My husband called the rest of the family as well.
I think one of the weirdest parts about this labor is that when I got there at 9pm, I was 6cm, 90% effaced. I couldn't believe I was over halfway dilated without experiencing any severe pain. Since my painless contractions were obviously doing what they needed to do, I decided to try to sleep and to wait out the labor naturally (no augmentation or amniotomy). I didn't sleep at all that night, I just cried alone in my bed and in the jacuzzi while B and S slept. It was peaceful, and I came to terms with what I must do. By 9am the next morning I made it to 7-8 centimeters still with very little pain. At this point I decided this was a gift and that I was going to continue with my peaceful natural labor and allow for family to arrive before I birthed my little Myles. These were happy moments in hindsight, my daughter took a bath with me in the jacuzzi, and we talked a lot about what was going to happen that day. We also sang and played and she kept my mind off of things. She was anxious for the birth (she has been for 9 months after all) even though she knew the baby wasn't going to get to come home with us.
At 2pm, I was 8-9 centimeters, fully effaced, and his head was 0 station (it had been floating before, my big bag of waters was doing all the dilating). Most of my family had arrived, and most importantly my sister was there to assist. The midwife broke my water and I went directly into transition, my pain was immediate. I got into the tub to do the water birth I had dreamed of. It gave me comfort that I got the birth I wanted even though I wouldn't get my baby. The contractions were right on top of each other, and the pressure was intense. I had my sister and daughter on one side of the tub and B on the other side with the midwife down by my feet. I held their hands through the contractions. B said his arm was sore afterwards. He was such a big help thoughout, getting me cold washcloths for my forehead between contractions and such, I felt like a boxer in between rounds and he was my corner man. S plugged her ears when I yelled, but she also helped with the washcloths, she was pretty funny. There were a few times where I said, 'I can't do this, it hurts too bad', but I did it. I birthed Myles at 3:04pm, yes, one hour later.
When he came out, they put him on my stomach and he was so beautiful and it was suddenly so quiet. He felt alive because he was so warm from my body and the warm water. He was slightly purple in color, especially his lips, but otherwise he was perfect, soft, and precious. I held him in the tub and kissed him and told him I missed him already so, so, much. My sister cried, my husband cut the chord, and my daughter stroked his head and back. S kept splashing water on him trying to get him to wake up. I held him there in the tub for about 10 minutes but eventually had to hand him off so I could get out of the tub to birth the placenta. This is where the problems began.
I got out of the tub and onto the birthing bed, it felt so good to get that baby out and I was ready to get the placenta out too. The midwife told me that placentas were a little slow sometimes with stillborns, so after 20 minutes, we still weren't worried too much that it hadn't come. I'd wait for a contraction I'd push, but all I would get was blood clots. At about 30 minutes, she lost the chord (they hang on to it, not to pull, but to make sure they can get it out in case of an emergency) and you could tell she was beginning to worry. She decided to call in the OB/perinatalogist because after a half an hour they worry about losing too much blood. During this time, my mother was holding Myles and I told the nurses to please find a private room where the rest of the family can see him while I deal with my stubborn placenta. At that point, I was losing more blood, and the midwife kept thinking she felt the placenta and that it was partly in the vagina and partly in the uterus and that it would come right out. She was wrong.
We waited for about 15 minutes on the perinatalogist, so the time was roughly 3:50pm. In the meantime, they gave me an IV and ordered some narcotics. At that point, I had labored completely naturally, and they knew I was going to need something as he was going to have to reach in side my uterus and pull out my placenta. If I had had an epidural, this wouldn't have been such a big deal, but I didn't so it would be as painful as birthing my son. When all was said and done, he had to reach inside my body into my uterus probably 3 or 4 times each time pulling out more pieces of my placenta. They were not coming out easily. They were using the ultrasound to guide them, and each time he reached I screamed as my midwife tried to tell me to breath, it was the most excruciating experience of my entire life. They had to hold me down, and the doctor kept ordering more and more narcotics everytime he had to go back in. He didn't want to do surgery, he wanted to give me time with Myles to grieve, and he kept thinking if he tried one more time we could be done and I could go on with mourning. Unfortunately, he couldn't get all the placenta, it was stuck, and I was done for physically and emotionally. I'm surprised I didn't pass out. They decided to put me under general anesthesia for a D&C. My hemoglobin before surgery was only a 7.6, I had already lost a lot of blood.
In the OR, they put me under general anasthesia and it was a welcome feeling after what I had been through. I found out later they had decided to use Ketamine due to the circumstances, a drug they don't generally use. Yay Ketamine, is all I can say. When they got inside, they just pulled out more pieces of my placenta, it's like it disentegrated. The perinatalogist said he's never seen anything like it (and he sees it all). They found what he described as a fibrous strand of tissue (4 or 5 inches long) that looked like a scar. He cut a piece off, this was also quite the anomaly, and it's at a lab now. All we know is that through all my troubles with this pregnancy that there had been nothing wrong with Myles at all (through the preterm labor and stillbirth) it was the placenta that was bad. We discussed placenta accreta, but we don't know for sure still. The ultrasounds had never given any indications of this, but there is only so much modern technology can do.
By the time surgery was over, my blood pressure dropped to 60/40, and I needed a transfusion as my hemoglobin was barely a 6. I woke up in recovery and began to feel very claustrophobic. I went from this natural childbirth to two IV's and millions of sensors and machines hooked to me. Luckily, they stabilized me and I didn't have to go to the ICU that night, although it took them quite awhile to get my blood pressure back to normal. I got back to my room at about 8pm and it was only the second time I got to see Myles' beautiful little body since I gave birth five hours earlier. So many things happened while I was gone, they did his foot and handprints, took photos, all of the aunts and uncles and grandparents got to see him. My midwife said it was my gift to them; that they got to spend so much time with him and say goodbye. The problems with my placenta had sadly stolen even those moments from me. When I got him back he was cold, but still so perfect. My daughter and I played with him for a while. She wanted him to hold her hand and wanted to swaddle him. She began to realize at this time I think that he wasn't going to wake up. I said goodbye to my baby boy, and tried to get some rest.
There were so many things I wanted to do with my little Myles. It seemed like with my daughter that I had wanted all those milestones to happen so quick that I didn't relish her infancy enough. I wasn't going to make that mistake with him. I was looking forward to cherishing every moment because I knew he would be my last baby. Mostly, I was just excited to fall in love again, just like I did with B and S. And I did fall in love again, as soon as I saw him, but that was it. It's been so hard to come back home, I'm gathering all his stuff up to give it to my best friend who is expecting in January. I just can't look at it. I wish this birth story had a happier ending, I wish this were all a dream, but I am thankful for the months he was in our lives and in my body. Now I wish I had cherished my pregnancy more, it seems like all I did was complain, but I would give anything to be pregnant again right now. I know though, that no matter what, my daughter will always be a big sister and I will always be a mother and B will always be a father to our son Myles, whether he is here with us today or not.
I went to my midwife appointment on Tuesday morning at 9:15am, Myles' heartbeat was 153 and he was moving around. It was the week of Thanksgiving and it was the first year I've ever had it at my house and my mom and stepdad came down to spend it with my B (my dear husband), S(my dear daughter), and I. Needless to say, Wednesday and Thursday were busy, and I didn't think too much about Myles. I was actually hoping all the excitement would put me into labor. I'd been anxiously awaiting Thanksgiving since the beginning of the pregnancy, and especially after the preterm labor and bedrest; reaching week 37 on Friday was so important to me. It felt like such a huge accomplishment to make it to term, I was so happy all that week.
It was probably thursday night when B and I sat down to watch a movie that I first thought that it seemed like it had a been a while since I felt him move. I assured myself he was fine, that I was so busy those last two days I just hadn't paid attention. When I woke up that Friday morning, I felt crampy, but nothing too unusual. I've had an 'irritable uterus' throughout the pregnancy and I was used to the uncomfortable BH contractions by now. The only eery part about that night was that for the first time in 6 months I slept for seven hours straight. I usually wake up at least 3 times, if not 5 or 6, so I was a little concerned that I had slept so soundly. I mentioned it to my sister that morning on the phone, and I took the uninterrupted night of sleep as more of a sign that perhaps labor was imminent, and not that something was wrong.
Starting about 1pm on Friday, I noticed my BH contractions were a lot closer than they have been over the last few weeks. I started tracking them and they were five to seven minutes apart. They weren't painful yet, however, so I didn't quite know what to do. I was 37 weeks on that day, so I thought that I should wait until I get a more clear indication that this was real labor. I've had so many false labor contractions before, I didn't want to call in for nothing now that I was finally term. I finally decided to call my midwife at 9pm that night, as the contractions had remained steady, they never strengthened. I mentioned the contractions and that I had been worried I hadn't felt him for a while and she sent me in for a non stress test just to be safe. I wasn't at all concerned about the movements, mostly because I've heard they slow down during labor. For the most part, I went to the hospital fully expecting to be back home that night.
I got to the hospital and immediately became very scared when they didn't find his heartbeat right away. They've never had trouble before. I was in shock and I was alone, I really thought this trip to the hospital would be nothing. It took an hour for someone with an ultrasound to come in but they wouldn't let me look at the screen so I watched the eyes of midwife and nurse. Needless to say, there was not a flicker of hope. B and S walked in right at that moment, and he looked into my eyes and knew; we just hugged and bawled. S was confused, she imagined her brother was 'broken' and suggested we use tape to fix him. We tried our best to explain it to her, but she didn't quite understand. We called my mom who was an hour away at her MIL's house (my stepdad's mom) and she came right away. My husband called the rest of the family as well.
I think one of the weirdest parts about this labor is that when I got there at 9pm, I was 6cm, 90% effaced. I couldn't believe I was over halfway dilated without experiencing any severe pain. Since my painless contractions were obviously doing what they needed to do, I decided to try to sleep and to wait out the labor naturally (no augmentation or amniotomy). I didn't sleep at all that night, I just cried alone in my bed and in the jacuzzi while B and S slept. It was peaceful, and I came to terms with what I must do. By 9am the next morning I made it to 7-8 centimeters still with very little pain. At this point I decided this was a gift and that I was going to continue with my peaceful natural labor and allow for family to arrive before I birthed my little Myles. These were happy moments in hindsight, my daughter took a bath with me in the jacuzzi, and we talked a lot about what was going to happen that day. We also sang and played and she kept my mind off of things. She was anxious for the birth (she has been for 9 months after all) even though she knew the baby wasn't going to get to come home with us.
At 2pm, I was 8-9 centimeters, fully effaced, and his head was 0 station (it had been floating before, my big bag of waters was doing all the dilating). Most of my family had arrived, and most importantly my sister was there to assist. The midwife broke my water and I went directly into transition, my pain was immediate. I got into the tub to do the water birth I had dreamed of. It gave me comfort that I got the birth I wanted even though I wouldn't get my baby. The contractions were right on top of each other, and the pressure was intense. I had my sister and daughter on one side of the tub and B on the other side with the midwife down by my feet. I held their hands through the contractions. B said his arm was sore afterwards. He was such a big help thoughout, getting me cold washcloths for my forehead between contractions and such, I felt like a boxer in between rounds and he was my corner man. S plugged her ears when I yelled, but she also helped with the washcloths, she was pretty funny. There were a few times where I said, 'I can't do this, it hurts too bad', but I did it. I birthed Myles at 3:04pm, yes, one hour later.
When he came out, they put him on my stomach and he was so beautiful and it was suddenly so quiet. He felt alive because he was so warm from my body and the warm water. He was slightly purple in color, especially his lips, but otherwise he was perfect, soft, and precious. I held him in the tub and kissed him and told him I missed him already so, so, much. My sister cried, my husband cut the chord, and my daughter stroked his head and back. S kept splashing water on him trying to get him to wake up. I held him there in the tub for about 10 minutes but eventually had to hand him off so I could get out of the tub to birth the placenta. This is where the problems began.
I got out of the tub and onto the birthing bed, it felt so good to get that baby out and I was ready to get the placenta out too. The midwife told me that placentas were a little slow sometimes with stillborns, so after 20 minutes, we still weren't worried too much that it hadn't come. I'd wait for a contraction I'd push, but all I would get was blood clots. At about 30 minutes, she lost the chord (they hang on to it, not to pull, but to make sure they can get it out in case of an emergency) and you could tell she was beginning to worry. She decided to call in the OB/perinatalogist because after a half an hour they worry about losing too much blood. During this time, my mother was holding Myles and I told the nurses to please find a private room where the rest of the family can see him while I deal with my stubborn placenta. At that point, I was losing more blood, and the midwife kept thinking she felt the placenta and that it was partly in the vagina and partly in the uterus and that it would come right out. She was wrong.
We waited for about 15 minutes on the perinatalogist, so the time was roughly 3:50pm. In the meantime, they gave me an IV and ordered some narcotics. At that point, I had labored completely naturally, and they knew I was going to need something as he was going to have to reach in side my uterus and pull out my placenta. If I had had an epidural, this wouldn't have been such a big deal, but I didn't so it would be as painful as birthing my son. When all was said and done, he had to reach inside my body into my uterus probably 3 or 4 times each time pulling out more pieces of my placenta. They were not coming out easily. They were using the ultrasound to guide them, and each time he reached I screamed as my midwife tried to tell me to breath, it was the most excruciating experience of my entire life. They had to hold me down, and the doctor kept ordering more and more narcotics everytime he had to go back in. He didn't want to do surgery, he wanted to give me time with Myles to grieve, and he kept thinking if he tried one more time we could be done and I could go on with mourning. Unfortunately, he couldn't get all the placenta, it was stuck, and I was done for physically and emotionally. I'm surprised I didn't pass out. They decided to put me under general anesthesia for a D&C. My hemoglobin before surgery was only a 7.6, I had already lost a lot of blood.
In the OR, they put me under general anasthesia and it was a welcome feeling after what I had been through. I found out later they had decided to use Ketamine due to the circumstances, a drug they don't generally use. Yay Ketamine, is all I can say. When they got inside, they just pulled out more pieces of my placenta, it's like it disentegrated. The perinatalogist said he's never seen anything like it (and he sees it all). They found what he described as a fibrous strand of tissue (4 or 5 inches long) that looked like a scar. He cut a piece off, this was also quite the anomaly, and it's at a lab now. All we know is that through all my troubles with this pregnancy that there had been nothing wrong with Myles at all (through the preterm labor and stillbirth) it was the placenta that was bad. We discussed placenta accreta, but we don't know for sure still. The ultrasounds had never given any indications of this, but there is only so much modern technology can do.
By the time surgery was over, my blood pressure dropped to 60/40, and I needed a transfusion as my hemoglobin was barely a 6. I woke up in recovery and began to feel very claustrophobic. I went from this natural childbirth to two IV's and millions of sensors and machines hooked to me. Luckily, they stabilized me and I didn't have to go to the ICU that night, although it took them quite awhile to get my blood pressure back to normal. I got back to my room at about 8pm and it was only the second time I got to see Myles' beautiful little body since I gave birth five hours earlier. So many things happened while I was gone, they did his foot and handprints, took photos, all of the aunts and uncles and grandparents got to see him. My midwife said it was my gift to them; that they got to spend so much time with him and say goodbye. The problems with my placenta had sadly stolen even those moments from me. When I got him back he was cold, but still so perfect. My daughter and I played with him for a while. She wanted him to hold her hand and wanted to swaddle him. She began to realize at this time I think that he wasn't going to wake up. I said goodbye to my baby boy, and tried to get some rest.
There were so many things I wanted to do with my little Myles. It seemed like with my daughter that I had wanted all those milestones to happen so quick that I didn't relish her infancy enough. I wasn't going to make that mistake with him. I was looking forward to cherishing every moment because I knew he would be my last baby. Mostly, I was just excited to fall in love again, just like I did with B and S. And I did fall in love again, as soon as I saw him, but that was it. It's been so hard to come back home, I'm gathering all his stuff up to give it to my best friend who is expecting in January. I just can't look at it. I wish this birth story had a happier ending, I wish this were all a dream, but I am thankful for the months he was in our lives and in my body. Now I wish I had cherished my pregnancy more, it seems like all I did was complain, but I would give anything to be pregnant again right now. I know though, that no matter what, my daughter will always be a big sister and I will always be a mother and B will always be a father to our son Myles, whether he is here with us today or not.
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