Failing my daughter

My daughter was so excited to become a big sis. She knows she is still a big sis even though her brother died. She takes so much pride in him, sharing him freely with anyone who lets her, she is her brothers keeper and i'm so thankful for that. She has always been my constant reminder of all of the wonderful times we had with her brother, how loved he was, how happy he made us, and how he will never be forgotten.

Still, she wants a living sibling so bad. Her father and I are separated and it is likely we will get divorced eventually, it just hasn't been urgent to file the paperwork at this point.

It seems like at least twice a week, she brings up having another baby or (because she's precocious and knows) she wants me to adopt.

How do I explain to her the complexities of the world? I don't know that I could ever handle a sub preg, i'm not ruling it out because i am 29 and you never know what the future will bring, but it is obvious that this will not happen anytime soon. I also can't explain to her that being a single mom, my options for adoption are limited. I don't have any money for adoption, and I don't know enough about the child welfare system to know if they would allow a single mom to be a foster parent, let alone an adoptive parent. Even if they did, could I handle a child in my current capacity? Could I afford it? Do I have the emotional resources to foster a child? And if we did take that route, that child may not be with us forever, so I would be creating an attachment that could inevitably end in another loss (not the same, but i see parallels).

My daughter is almost six, her brother and her would be four years apart. It feels like time is ticking away and i'm losing any chance i had at giving my daughter the experience of having a living sibling. I certainly can't tell her, well maybe when you're older or I get remarried (bah, never want to get remarried!) or whatever. That's too much for her to understand, and I would never ever want to ever promise her a sibling ever again. That's what happened the first time and here we are.

I usually just find myself, each time she asks, just disappointing her all over again. That's what it feels like anyway. All I can say is that I don't know. That it might just be me and her, and that I'm so happy I have her in my life. She is all I need, not all I ever wanted, but she makes up what remains of my heart.

I know that many only children (i hate saying that, she is not my only child!) would have liked to have a sibling, and they are fine being the only child. It just seems doubly unfair though that she SHOULDN'T be an only child. That she had and has a little brother, yet she has very few of the experiences most children have and she perhaps will never know the love (and all the other stuff) that is a part of having a living sibling.

This has been my biggest turmoil since the moment the nurse couldn't find the heartbeat. How could I tell my daughter? As my marriage eroded, i've still grasped at any conceivable chance that maybe, just maybe I could somehow be a mommy to a rainbow baby. I don't know that I'll ever be there. And that is okay for me I've accepted that, but I feel like I'm failing her everytime she asks for a sibling.

Anyway, I know there aren't any answers really. It just feels like I need to get this off of my chest. How could I fail both my children so fully? How can I keep failing her? How can I possibly just tell her, life isn't fair? 'I don't know' seems like such an inadequate answer to her pleas. She deserves so much more

Time doesn't heal this

I'm having a rough day today. I don't know why. It's 17 months to the day since I buried my son, and here I am again, crying alone in the shower, in front of my computer, smoking in the garage, tears running down my face everywhere I go.

It just feels like each day brings added weight, not relief. That I'm losing Myles each and every day because as time moves forward, I move further away from him and my life as I knew it. I'm a shell of a my former self, bitter and sad.

Mother's day is coming up and I think Simone and I are just going to make some cards together. Me for my mom, her for me and maybe for Myles too if she wants. I wish I could go to the zoo to see the butterfly plaque my family got last November in honor of Myles, but Simone and I will go see it together soon if not on Monther's day. Simone never tires of remembering Myles, she'll love to see his name there with all the children and butterflies. Everything is so bittersweet. She wants to take the plaster casts of Myles' two hands and one foot to school. I don't know if I can do it, and I can't let her take them alone, but for her I'll try.

Sadly, Mother's day doesn't remind me of what it should; this time two years ago when I had my two children with me. I didn't know that was my only true Mother's day, the only one I'd ever have. Instead, the upcoming Mother's day reminds me of last year, and crying in the parking lot at Perkins as my first family betrayal scorched my already tattered heart. I didn't know I could hurt more than I had. What little I knew almost 6 months out.

The trauma of the first year weighs heavily on me the second. Time moves forward and everyone else forgets. Nobody lives with this daily as I do, nobody. Each year, you remember the last. Last year at this time I was so utterly lost, more than I could fathom. This year I'm here, but my life is on it's head. I feel so defeated. I didn't know I could feel more defeated than after I lost Myles, but the death of my marriage is it's own loss. 11 years together, 8 years of marriage on May 26th; this will be our first anniversary apart. Somehow, it seems like we're failing both our children.

Anyway, there is no point to this, just thinking, typing, rambling, crying, blowing my nose. I'm just worried about next month, and the old pain it will dredge up and the new losses I will have to deal with. I used to love May, once upon a time. I will somehow have to find the courage and strength within me to sustain me through the month ahead :(

I just want my baby

I JUST WANT MY BABY!!! I just want my son. Thats all I want. Fuck school, fuck relationships, fuck it all. Just give me my baby you motherfuckers, cuz I don't think I can take another step without him on days like these.

Stupid assholes

So I finally talked to my stepmom, you know the bitch who told me at Christmas that I didn't deserve my daughter. Well, let's just say, her apology was not sincere. I had an inkling, and I wanted to be judicious, but when all was said and done, she meant what she said, and the apology was just to keep the peace.

This is how it went. I've been talking to my Dad, and he obviously was upset with her, but still definitely trying to protect her and downplay her actions that day. He said that she said it to 'wake me up'. Pretty hilarious right? I have a bad day, and she was going to make it better by getting angry and hurling cruel insults. Did I mention she's a genius? (She's one of the most anti-intellectual people I've ever met) So I went over last night for an apology.

So anyway, I get there, it's awkward, and my Dad took Simone downstairs so SM and I could talk. Well, she barely looks at me, and flippantly says that she just wants to apologize for saying what she said, but 'she doesn't want to talk about it'. Real fair, huh? So, I'm not in a flippant mood at all, what she said is as grave as it gets and I'm not going to walk away without telling her what I thought and hearing her explanation. So I tell her that it was the most cruel thing anyone has ever said to me, and I want to know why she said it. Well, as I'm talking (calm, serious) she is interrupting me saying, no no, she doesn't want to talk about it, that's not what 'this' (her insincere apology) is about. She begins raising her voice saying if I don't accept her apology that's fine. I tell her that that actually would not be fine, that it is in her interest that I accept her apology because otherwise I will not visit while she is there, she will not see my daughter, and that will hurt all of our relationships with my Dad. She keeps saying she didn't want to talk about it and she starts yelling for my Dad (who is downstairs). It was pretty absurd because I hadn't said anything out of line or raised my voice or anything, and here she is, interrupting me, raising her voice, and yelling for my Dad. After saying what she said, she couldn't let me say anything??? What did she think my Dad was going to do?

So my Dad comes up and my daughter follows, so now we get to have the conversation with him AND her there, all because SM is a twit who can't have an honest conversation, one on one. Well, come to find out, I was a bad mom that day. See, it was my daughters Christmas (total BS, we 'celebrated' that on the 25th, this was the 27th) and when she opened her doll, she didn't even have a Mom sitting there to show it to, boohoo (dd is scarred for life, she doesn't have 5,000 dolls, she didn't get 30 Christmas presents this year, and toys really are the meaning of Christmas). Maybe if I had just tried that day (see, we can all try our way out of the pit) I would've had a better day.

What does this have to do with religion? Everything. Come to find out she wrote a letter from Myles to me (THE NERVE!!!!! As if she would knows what my son would say or want) and gave it to my sister and my sister wouldn't give it to me because God was mentioned. And this made SM upset.

Now, I don't believe that God was just mentioned, or that my sister kept it from me because it had some religion in it. No, I'm thinking this letter is filled with platitudes (religious and otherwise), the likes of which would boil my blood. My sister is no dummy, she knows I tolerate religious sentiment. When my grandmother told me my son was in the arms of jesus, I agreeably said he was at peace. I don't want to stir the shit with religious folk, let them find comfort in delusion. Why is it that religious people want to force there beliefs on me? My son died and the religious have to tragedy grub like vultures.

No, I think my sister kept it from me for a reason, she has only protected me so far and I'm going to trust her judgement and not read it. So SM is hurt that I didn't get this letter, then she says that she just wants me to see that God has blessed me with a daughter. And she goes to the fridge and points at a prayer and says she says that prayer for me everyday. Well, I've had enough, so I tell her I hope saying that prayer brings her comfort, because it doesn't do anything for me, and I would just prefer to not be judged and talked bad about because I happened to be sad at their Christmas.

Aside: Is that how religion works, people pray for you, and since they're providing so much help talking to the man upstairs that they can say and do whatever they want? Cuz I'd rather just be treated with common decency.

The fucking nerve.

So nothing is settled, we ended the conversation because it wasn't going anywhere, and I went and played pool with my daughter and dad. I think the most telling part is that her explanation for spewing her hate that day to my brother (who also can magically channel MY SONS wants and desires), was that she was afraid I was going to lose my daughter. That was never once discussed last night. So, as I had suspected, he lapped up a bunch of her lies and bullshit in the aftermath and liked the taste so much he thought he'd convince everyone else to eat it. What a fool. This woman genuinely thinks I don't deserve my daughter, plain and simple, and it has nothing to do with my morose attitude at THEIR Christmas, it's because I'm an atheist.

Well, fuck her, I'm a good mom and the proof is in the pudding. Simone is honest and compassionate and generous and it's because of me and her dad, and we didn't have to make her afraid of God or Santa Claus or any mythical being, she is just good for the sake of being good. I'm sure she'll have a lot more decency and compassion when she grows up than my wicked SM.

Child Grief

My daughter has been talking about Myles more and more lately. Wait, first let me start by saying I've really been getting a kick out of how little my child thinks I know. I ask her who are the smartest people she knows? They're all cousins and friends from school, none over the age of 12. Who are the smartest adults? Her grandma's and grandpa's. Daddy and Mommy rank dead last, lol. So when I tell her to say 'fell' instead of 'falled' she completely argues with me. My parents think I'm getting what I deserve, lol, and they're right.

But it kind of took on a new meaning tonight, it really broke my heart. She was saying her ribs hurt, and asked why she had them and I explain they protect her lungs and heart. So she had a question about if a heart breaks, and I told her about cpr, and doctors fixing hearts, but that sometimes, people might die. And she said, 'Is that what happened to Myles?' And I don't know that, but I do know his heart stopped beating for some reason, so I was wavering. To reassure her, I said, "Simone his heart just stopped, and he didn't hurt, he was completely happy and loved, it didn't hurt him.'

And she said, "Mom, you finally figured it out." Getting more and more excited, as if I said something revolutionary. Then she said she missed Myles and started crying, she asked how old he would be now, how big. Then she stopped, as if this is the first time she ever asked it, "okay, Mom, but WHY did HIS heart stop beating?" and I had to say, 'I don't know, nobody knows'. And for the first time, she says, "but you have been alive for how long, and you're supposed to know all of this stuff, why don't you know that?"

And it occurs to me, no wonder she doesn't believe me, or believe in me, I couldn't even save her brother! Parents are gods I thought, and I know she still thinks I'm the greatest mom in the world, but deep down she knows I don't know everything, I can't stop everything, I can't protect her always, because that is how the world works.

She just wants me to have another baby, and I'm so dead set against it. She brings it up at least twice a week. And she'll say, but mom, if you had another baby, maybe it wouldn't die. And I said, maybe not, but it could, there's nothing we can do about that. And she's like, 'well, maybe we shouldn't have played with Myles so much.' And for the first time she said, "Mom, did [i]I[/i] play with him too much?"

I assured her, no, she didn't do anything wrong, we all did everything right. And even when you do everything right, there are no guarantees. Life just isn't fair.


Oh, I feel so terrible my poor dear has had to grow up so fast. How hard it is to watch her grow and for her to come up with new questions, new sources of pain from her loss. And I guess as she gets older, we'll revisit this discussion many many more times. It's just so hard to see the cruel world reveal itself even more as she develops and understands and can think about things more.

Sorry I've been gone

I can't say no news is good news. However, I have stopped drinking and have never had a more clear objective view of my life. It's terrifying and liberating.

Tonight, I was invited to go to a dinner for an organization that does work to improve maternal fetal health. The focus of the dinner was prematurity. Now, I had my daughter at 35 weeks, and I went into preterm labor with my son at 28 weeks, and proceeded to be on bed rest until I lost him for no reason at 37 weeks at Thanksgiving. He had always been wonderful, I'd always, always say, "I never worry about Myles, he's a fighter," because he kicked me soooo much. I thought I had made it when I lost him. All those weeks worrying, sacrificing, putting up with mom, mil rotating to come help and stay with us. I thought it was the worst thing in the world, bed rest, the fear of him coming early and being in the NICU.

So I had to listen to a panel of parents whose children were sick and in the NICU, pretty freaking terrifying. But I could not, just could not bear to hear there stories, as amazing as I know they would've been to me 18 months ago. They were talking about family support, and care packages, and all this stuff they gave them. They only made cursory mention of bereavement, none of the parents on the panel had lost an infant, and there book had one page on infant loss. But on that one page, they talked about helping plan funeral services. And the packages they got were beautiful. (Which makes me all the more made when I see that they would turn away bags from anyone for anything!!! ).

Nobody would say the word death. They'd just allude to it, and then they would cry about how close their children came. All I could think about was Myles. It was torture. And I couldn't help but being angry with them. I've said to myself many times, if Myles had come early, he'd likely be here. But then I look at the statistics for a 28 weeker, and they have a worst chance of neonatal death (5%) than anyone has risk of stillbirth (1%). So I can't say the statistics were in our favor if he had come on Sept. 23rd.

So I actually envied them. And while I was doing it, I was thinking how awful I was. I almost had to get up and leave. Then, they had speakers on about infant loss. I'm thankful for the work they do. But why wasn't anyone talking about stillbirth?! They were more afraid to utter it, than the word death. Sigh. Why is fetal death so taboo?!

I've been gone for awhile. It's good to be back. This fall has been hard, Myles seems to always be on my mind lately. I was walking in Walgreens, and I looked up, and I saw Halloween stuff!!! And my mind transported me instantly back, and for a millisecond I felt like it was a year ago. How can minutes seem like hours, but the time has gone by in a blink of an eye? I've lost almost a whole year now.

One thing I can remember with such utter happiness, is that my mom was down before Halloween and we decided to paint a pumpkin on my big pregnant belly. And it fills me with such sadness that he is not here with us to go trick or treating. But I'm so thankful that I thought of doing that then (I was on bed rest already, but with hope, as I'd made it through October). I'm so grateful I have those memories of his first halloween, when he was my little pumpkin.MISSing Myles and all our precious little ones this Fall

I can be surrounded by people, and I just feel so alone. So utterly desperately alone. I feel abandoned by my husband, he just doesn't get it. 8 months on Thursday, jeez, when is the 24th? It's like my subconscious knows it, but the rest of me is on pause while the world moves on around me.

I get 'better' I get 'worse' I get really 'better' then I get really 'worse'. I just want to disappear. Why do I feel so alienated around my old family and friends? I think they're plotting against me. They don't like my drinking, blah, blah, blah, they worry because I've lost a lot of weight. I don't know what to say? I'm not hungry. Food does not bring me joy.

My self worth is shattered. My body killed my baby, somehow, someway, and someday I'll know. Well, it's either drink and sleep at 10 or be up til 3, and I prefer to take some ibuprofen and handle the hangover, then miss sleep, wake up late for work (which I eerily don't get hangovers anyway) and I haven't had any blackouts, I'm maintaining.

Oh, fuck me, I'm just defeated, and the thoughtless comments have only just begun. My mom is putting pressure on me to be 'stronger', everyone wants the 'old Trish', my dad asked me if I was going to have another baby. They STILL don'te get that I will never the be the good ole predictable, debatin', grinning, thriving woman I once was. That's not me, they don't get it. My husband says he doesn't know me anymore, and I'm like, "join the club". Hell, I'd like to be let in cause I don't know what I'm going to do half the time; how I'm going to react.

Oh, this has turned into the nightmare blog of the century. On a happy note, I axed down a cedar today for my Myles garden (sorry Leigh, I do want to comment but sometimes I can't) and it just brought out so much anger. Has anyone here used an axe, they're fantastic, but where gloves. Of course, now I've got this tree to move but that didn't occur to me as I cussed at it and pulled on it, and tore that sucker to the ground. But darn it, my butterfly bushes and snowball bush weren't getting enough sun!

On an angry note, there was another burial in baby land today, I just drive up knowing, saying 'no, no, no, not another' seeing the awning, getting angry as I get closer, so mad it has happened again. Just so mad, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have that 15 foot cedar to chop down.

Okay, I am losing. Don't know if it's just life (my laptop died, my transmission went out, my cell phone got lost) and I DO feel like Dory off of 'finding Nemo'. I hate the new me as much as my family, don't know how much I loved the 'old me' even then. So I'm just like everyone else, except I get to worry about being worried about, yipee.

I feel so alone, but surrounded by TOO many people who love me TOO much.
MISSing my son TERRIBLY, today, and always. I love you, Myles.

Wisdom from my Simone

I'm drying my tears, I can't tell if I'm crying because I'm happy or sad, has anyone felt that way before? I had to share this discussion before we leave town today.

Simone watches NOGGIN, which is like channel 36 here, and it doesn't have commercials and it's for preschoolers, blah, blah, blah. Well, in between shows they have these series' that teach and help kids learn, and one they introduced recently was Babu (a preschooler) and his pregnant mommy. It's very cute, the family is cute, the narrator talks with happy music in the background as the Babu helps is pregnant mom. Under most circumstances, it's fuckin' adorable. It's something I would've been all over last summer, showing Simone how she was just like the little boy on tv.

This summer, I see it, and I'm annoyed. I do my best to not have a reaction because I don't want Simone to know my aversion to this stuff, but she knows. Well today we saw the snippet (in between shows, I'm folding laundry, Simone's coloring) where the mom brings baby home and they talk about their cultural traditions, and how 'now he's a big brother' (as if he wasn't when his mom was pg, just a peeve) and I take a short breath and just leave the room. I'm cleaning so I didn't think Simone would notice. Well, she's more astute than I give her credit for. I come back five minutes later (I'd forgotten the commercial, the whole point of walking away) but then Simone says:

Simone: Mom, does watching Babu and the baby remind you of Myles?

Me: Yes (I say gently), does it remind you of Myles?

Simone: Yes

Me: What does it make you think of ?(I'm preparing for something really depressing, like I think, about him not being here, and us not bringing him home. You know, things I think when I see those commercials). Instead:

Simone: It makes me think about when Myles was in your tummy and we would sing to him and he'd kick me with his little foot, laughing the whole time.

Me: (surprised, joyous, stupored) yeah, he made us so happy didn't he?
Simone: Mom, maybe you and dad need to write that down, you know, like on a list, so you don't forget it.

She's so amazing, and so right, I see those commercials and all I think of is the bad, but good old Simone, this whole time when she's zombified watching this scenario on tv she's so familiar with, she's remembering how much fun we had. Why can't I be more like her. One more time, Simone takes my breath away, just like the day she was born, you know?

My epiphany

I haven't had a religious epiphany from losing my son. When my grandmother said he was in the arms of Jesus, I said 'he's at peace', and that was it.

Weeks since then, I realized part of deconstructing me (see last blog about imperfection) was trying to remember again what it felt to really be joyous. What things really bring me joy, and which don't. I found joy in nothing for many months; not eating, not sleeping, not even Simones shenanigans.

But it all finally came down to the question: what do I want from this world in the short term? If you could live your last day, and you knew it, what would you do?
Well, what I realized is that I've come to a more naturalistic worldview. Not Wiccan (sp?) but just the cruelty and beauty of what life is. Every day should be a good day to die, and I put that quote on my profile only days before Myles died. I took it off, felt like an asshole, but I still believe it even though I can't accept the fact that he should have at least died in my arms if I was going to have to say goodbye forever.

So the other day, I layed in the sun, just plopped down on my front deck and soaked in the rays, and I was happy. And I've been thinking about planting a garden, I've been moving perennials, putting some rocks up, and I'm just learning, but its challenging and fascinating and the suns rays feel like Myles. I like to think his energy is apart of them.

So I guess what I find faith in is the cycle of life. People call people tree huggers, but have any of you hugged a tree? I have. It was terrific. And I'm going to plant a tree that I have for Myles, and I'm going to plant whatever I can for him in the next few weeks. Because he was here and just as quick he was gone, and he was just as much a part of the cycle of life that I am or you are. I told my daughter a loooong time ago that everything that lives must die. I remind her of it if she asks. But not in a dreary way, more like an adventure. I tell her if everyone lived forever, life wouldn't be so special. It would have neither beauty nor cruelty, and that in the grand scheme, we are pretty lucky to find ourselves here, in a finite world. And I think Myles was even fortunate, to live, even such a short life, with love, and laughter, and singing, and talk always revolving around him. He kicked my sister in the head, and punched or kicked at least every other person dear to me.

Maybe living and dying in the womb is so not so bad after all. No hunger, I like to think no pain, just a warm embrace and a slow awareness of the voices and sounds around you. And he was a part of our family, he heard not just our laughter, but our arguments, Simone's tantrums, and my stress. All the while he was warm and nurtured, and growing and learning, and he will never know the sadness we feel that he is gone. I'm glad for that. All he knew was contentment and wonder, and maybe that's not so bad?

He felt love, but never grief. Maybe it's selfish to wish him with me instead, maybe he had felt the best life had to offer, hopefully not the worst.

Visiting 'Myles'

As an atheist, I've begun to wonder why I go to my son's memorial. I've been a little short with my husband regarding the way he talks about Myles in front of DD. We are not, in fact, visiting Myles. We are visiting his memorial. It is a ritual, one of remembrance, one of bonding and sharing our loss. A ritual for us, not for him. I don't see it as more than that. and I don't want my daughter to think it is more. I don't want her to think we are visiting 'him', because I think she could get confused by the fact that his body is there but that he is not his body. I don't want her to think, for example, that he is cold, or lonely, or experiencing things there where he is buried. So I think language makes a big difference but DH isn't as delicate as me.

My husband is a deist, and I wish I could say our views haven't clashed over the years a little. In general, I'm disappointed completely with how Myles' death has been discussed with our daughter by most of my family. I was gone for five hours after he had died. When DD was around our family and they all had Myles' body and were telling her all sorts of things. I'm just worried she is confused. I've always told my family, by all means, share your beliefs with my daughter. But please, preface it with, "I believe . . . ". Don't treat your beliefs as fact. I don't think she should be under the impression that this is factual, that everyone agrees. Because we, as a world, considering all of our religions, don't agree. So I want her to hear the beliefs of many people, but I want her to first and foremost realize that belief is subjective.

So, it does kind of suck that I didn't get to help guide those discussions at the time. Because now she has all these set things in her mind, things that aren't 'weird' (that Myles is an angel, that he's in heaven) but that I wish she didn't believe on a physical level. She was looking at this beautiful sunset the other day, and she said that was heaven but noted she didn't see anyone there. Very astute. I don't tell her either way, mostly when we talk about these things, I ask her more questions than I tell her what to think.

I've always thought that if religion brings my daughter peace, I'm glad for her. It has never brought me peace. The idea of my son being somehow conscious and in some alternate reality is actually disturbing to me. I guess I could talk about it further, but I don't want to make moms like me, who do believe this, upset or offended by my misgivings. As I said, whatever brings you peace and happiness is what you should do. I find peace in knowing my son is at peace, and that he never learned the cruelties of this world, only the warmth and love of my womb. And I guess that's all I have to say about that right now.

Questions from Simone

My daughter asked me the other night when we were laying in bed together, 'when Myles was dying, was he hurting'. I told her 'no'. I told her he just went to sleep and that was it. But it bothers me because I've wondered that on many a miserable night, and it hurts me to know that she has wondered that too. Because it feels really bad to wonder that. It also hurts me to lie to her, when I don't actually know. I don't like lying to my daughter, but I also have a responsibility to reassure her and make her feel safe. It just hurts me to have so many doubts, but to act as if I have none, because I am afraid everyday that I will lose her too. Just yesterday, my DH had her and he wasn't answering his phone and I just freaked out.

After she asked me about Myles hurting, she said, "Mommy, can't you just try to have another baby, just try, try, Mommy?". I wish I could just snap my fingers and be pregnant, and she wants another sibling so bad, but you can't just have babies willie nillie (not in my world). They take planning, and I can't even wrap my brain around all that right now. I don't think I could financially work in another baby until next Fall, maybe start ttc in August or September. It makes me sad for her. She's waited for so long. She loves babies so much. And she will already be almost six by then, which isn't terrible, but I wanted my children to be closer in age. Her and Myles, that was perfect to me. Four years, we joked around about him having crushes on all of her friends, and her getting him into trouble when she was 21 and he was 17. So many dreams, so lost.

It's hard navigating this with my DD at the age she is. She's old enough to understand some things but not others, and I think as she grows she'll understand more, and also mourn more. I feel like it won't really hit her until she is 7 or 8 or 9 or if we are ever to have another baby maybe then (there are no guarantees that we will though, I know that too well).

I just wish I knew what she was thinking. When we were at Myles graveside service, the pastor asked if anyone wanted to say anything, I expected nothing, when my daughter belted out 'I do', I was so surprised. She stood up, said we will always miss you Myles and put a flower on his coffin. Totally and completely spontaneous. I'll never forget it so long as I live. She took everyone's breath away. Her courage and love, she didn't think twice. She had something to say, and she was going to say it, LOL.

I love her so much, it hurts my heart so much that she has to go through this. The second I knew Myles was gone, I just started sobbing, 'what am I going to tell Simone, she was so excited, so excited'. I repeated it over and over with so much anguish. And she was, just SOOOO excited. I hurt so bad to let my daughter down like that. I feel like I failed her.

Dear Myles

I don't believe in heaven, but if I could say something to my son, this is what I would say. So, for what it's worth, I thought I would share.

Dear Myles,
I often feel so sad for you. That your time on this earth was so brief, you had so little chance to change this world for the better. I've had my whole life and can't boast it yet, but I had such high hopes for you. If you had lived, I have no doubt you would've rocked this world. It pains me to think you and I don't have anymore than what we had, all those weeks and months waiting and preparing, but for nothing. What we had is what we got, and then it was over. The world didn't know you as I wanted, and it would've been a better place with you in it. My world was a better place with you in it, that's how I know.

I guess I wish you could know that what happened was not your fault. You didn't mean to break my heart. It pains me to think that your legacy is one of broken hearts. That the only thing to come of all of your short life is grief and mourning and disappointed hopes. I can't stand the thought of it. So much sadness and loss; that's not you.

I wish you could know that you didn't cause my broken heart. LOSING YOU is what shattered my heart. Though I never had you in my arms; I, we, everyone, had this precious dream of you. I had your future, our future, before us. And I didn't know what it entailed, but it filled my heart with such joy to ponder how you would be. What you might do in this world. Today those same thoughts fill my heart with such sorrow. To have them taken away; from you, from me, from Dad. All without reason. But I don't want your impact on my world to be negative. I don't want the outcome of your birth to spoil those dreams. Because they were wonderful dreams.

I already knew you, you know? You were a 'mover and a shaker' to quote myself at about 18 weeks. I never worried about you, not my little Myles. You always gave us such good signs. Big and strong, you were such a constant comfort to me. I always had such faith in you, that you were a fighter. Even if you were born early; you had this vivacious spirit. You danced, my boy, plain and simple. You made so many people smile. I think of the countless people who felt you kick, everyone I know and love. B and Simone of course, but all the family knew your presence. You let your presence be known. You were not someone to be trifled with, despite the fact you were in my tummy. You were a little piece of me, and Dad; another Simone. What a personality!

Myles, you had a positive impact on this world. Even in that short time. The dream of you was wonderful. We thrived on that dream. And just because it's lost didn't mean it wasn't worthwhile when we embraced it so fully; when you were alive in my belly and in my dreams. We loved it then. We loved you then. We love you now. You were part of us then, and I know we were a part of you. We were a family, if only for a few short months. And without you we will never be a whole family again. Not so long as I live. But I will be damned if your legacy is your absence. We will honor your life. I will work hard to make sure those tiny footprints you left in my heart turn into a large footprint in this world. And that will be my lifes' work. Everything I will do, I will do for you.

Just know, sweet boy, that although my heart is broken, it is not your fault. You were an amazing little man, even though we never saw you alive, we knew your spirit. We knew your energy. You made us laugh and smile and dream. And for that I thank you. Because you were worth it. You were worth every sacrifice. I didn't know it then, I thought I was miserable. But I was just tired. And even at my most troubled moments, it was always the thought of you that would lift my spirits. I remember (after weeks of bed rest and other ailments) describing that dream once to my best friend. I just described how excited I was to hold you in my arms and have you home. How decadent. How luxurious. My own soft, new, tiny, beautiful, sweet baby. All mine. And it was so exciting it took my breath away. And that in itself is worth something. How you could make my problems melt away; just the thought of you.

You are my dream child, Myles. You will always be my dream child. Your dream kept my hope alive in what I thought were the darkest days. And that is powerful, and you will always have that power over me. I will try to use it to honor you. To help moms and baby's, and also moms with empty arms like mine; to try to do something that makes this world a better place for them and their families. And just because I cry, doesn't mean you weren't everything I'd hoped and dreamed. You were everything I ever wanted, and all in a short 37 weeks. I'm so proud of you. You were amazing, my son!

I will always love you, every second, every day!!!!!
MOMMY

Goodbye 2007

Update: I found this quote this morning, it about sums it up. "Losing a parent is like losing the past, losing a child is like losing the future."

My whole world for the last month can be described by one word, ambivalence. I don't know what I want. I feel 20 emotions a day. Anyone who knows me knows there are very few positions in which I'm a 'fence rider'. I've always got my opinions firmly planted on one side or the other. I have even switched sides of the fence, but rarely do I teeter. On the issue of the new year, I'm stuck.

2007 is a conundrum. I think I could easily say, 'Fuck 2007, good riddance'. Part of me feels that way. You might expect I'd welcome a new year, a frest start, maybe something to get me back on my feet. But for some reason, it makes me so sad to say goodbye. Becuase although it was the year my son died, it was also the year my son was born. It was a year defined by my tenacity. My tenacity to finish up my course work, finish my comps, complete the survey for my dissertation. It was a year where I was forced (kicking and screaming) into complete pregnant submission. but I persevered, I even 'successfully' accomplished the goal of my bed rest. My son was 'born' term. When you put it all together, I was miserable, but I did so much. I had so many hopes come through even and I felt like I had so much to look forward to, and so much to be proud of.

2007 was the year of Hope. I had more hopes and dreams than ever before in my life. I'm no stranger to disappointed hopes. I've seen them crumble many times. But I've never questioned my ability to hope again afterwards (okay, maybe after the 2004 elections, something about 4 more years of Bush). But when Myles died, I've never seen my hopes and dreams so completely annhilated. The feeling of it was like watching those hopes, not just dashed to pieces; but beaten to a pulp, then ground into the dirt, then shit on. And much of my recent existential quandaries now revolve around even trying to justify the will to hope. Emotionally, I don't have it in anymore. Logically, I can't see a reason why I ever dared to hope in the first place given my beliefs.

Although I may appear a cynic, its always been my biggest con. I'm a poser. Deep down, I've always been a hopeful person, even to the point of naivete. If anyone asks, I say that I'm sure the worst will happen, but in my mind I always hold out hope for the best. I can think to so many moments in my life where I've been so filled with hope and excitement, it was like my heart could burst. And last year was filled to the brim with that heart-bursting hope. I just forced myself to believe that everything would work out, all would fall into place, and for so much of the year it really appeared it would.

So, saying goodbye to 2007 is quite a sad affair for me. I'm not just saying goodbye to my son again (which I went and did today, and I will continue to do for as long as it takes to set in). It's like I'm saying goodbye to that piece of me that dared to hope. It's like I'm saying goodbye to hope itself. I've already mourned so much, but now I mourn even for the New Year. I've always loved the New Year. So much more than xmas. Why? No, its not the drugs and parties you fucking smart alecs. It was that sense of hope! Hope that maybe, just maybe, the next year will be better than the last. And this year, I don't fucking have it. I feel like there is nothing for me in 2008.

This time last year, I dreamed of a child, sadly this year, that dream is still the same. But its defined more by fear and anxiety than excitement and hope. So anyway. Goodbye 2007. I wish you didn't have to go. But there are no do-overs or we'd all sign up, eh? It reminds me of a poem (yes another tear jerker, I'm so sorry I'm downer Debbie now, LOL):

If I could have a lifetime wish
A dream that would come true.
I would wish with all my heart for yesterday and you.
A thousand words can't bring you back;
I know because I've tried.
And neither will a million tears;
I know because I've cried.
You left behind my broken heart, and happy memories too,
but I never wanted memories,
I only wanted you.

Dead end.

One thing that has bothered me about all of this is how normal 'normal' is. As if I were never pregnant, never on bed rest, never had this dream of a child. And there is something deeply disturbing to me about just picking up where I left off. Because, honestly, where I left off, I was miserable. Myles was my savior. I had so many hopes wrapped up in him. And in so many ways I didn't know how he would change my life, what new dynamic he would bring to the mix, but I knew it would be radical and I knew it would be positive. And I fucking needed that change so much. And now it's like none of it ever happened.

You would think that my life would be easier now, pragmatically speaking. Babies are so much work, and four year olds are so much work, and dissertations are so much work, and the job hunt is so much work. But without Myles, doing all of those other things seems SO much harder, not easier. He was my inspiration. Knowing he would be here gave me so much hope, and so much energy, and so much excitement. Now I just feel hopeless. I feel like I need to reevaluate everything in my life, question everything, go back to the beginning. Because the only thing I do know, in my gut, is that I don't want anything to be the same as it was. I just don't want to pick it all back up again and stay on the same course. It's a disconcerting feeling, knowing you need to go somewhere but not even knowing where, let alone how to get there.

All I know is nothing is as it should be but everything is still the same.

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.

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.

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.