2013-2014

Tomorrow is my 30th birthday. I was so excited that I would be celebrating my birthday and the birth of our son around the same time. I was thrilled that Sawyer and I would have close birthdays. I am crushed that this is not the case. All of these people are posting on Facebook about what a good year 2013 was for them and how they are excited for 2014. I thought 2014 was going to be the best year of my life. Now I just can't believe that this is my life. 2013 started as a fantastic year. When we found out in April that the IUI had worked I was over the moon. I was cautious, we waited until we hit 10 weeks before telling people, but it was a nice secret to keep. I spent the summer having a great pregnancy, hanging with family, and looking forward to this next phase of our lives. September made this the worst year of my life. Sawyer's death has rocked me to my core. I am not the same person I was on September 3rd.

Christmas was hard. I couldn't help but think that I should still be pregnant. It made it that much harder to see my nieces and nephews playing together. Sawyer will never truly be a part of this. Both Colin and I have been having trouble with the holidays, not just because they are a reminder of what we lost, but because Sawyer's due date was so close to these holidays. We had originally planned to go to Colin's parent's house on Christmas after spending Christmas Eve with my family. The original plan changed, and Colin and I decided we just couldn't go. His parents were understanding, but one of his relatives sent him a message trying to guilt him into coming. They had the nerve to say that we weren't the only ones having a hard year, basically implying that we were being selfish for not coming to Christmas. It took everything I had not to send a message back. We are grieving for our son, we have every right to be selfish as we navigate these new waters. The message completely changed Colin's demeanor on Christmas Eve, and ruined what had started as an okay night for us.

Yesterday I started my new tests at the fertility doctor. I still need to lose weight, I have not been doing very well with sticking to my clean eating over the break. I will keep working at it. I can only hope that in the next month I can get down to the weight I need to be in order for them to start IUI. I am hoping that we can have another baby before 2014 is over, and maybe salvage what is starting out as the worst of years. I know that if we do get pregnant again it won't be an easy road--I will need to get a cerclage, there is possible bed rest in the future, and I will have to deal with the anxiety of knowing that just getting past the first trimester does not mean you will take a living baby home--but I want this badly.  So, as much as I would like a time machine--I wish I could go back and tell myself to demand the doctor at maternal fetal medicine take a closer look, and then demand a cerclage---I have to look forward. I am hopeful that this new year will be better than the last four months have been.

The workaholic returns

It has been a while since I posted, mostly because I am back to being completely overwhelmed by work. Grading and lesson planning take up most of my free time. Sometimes it is a good thing, it helps me not to think too much about what this time of year was supposed to mean for us this year. All of these people are talking about what they are grateful for, and how "blessed" they are. I really just want to write "fuck you" on all of their Facebook posts. Bah-fucking-hum-bug!! I am not decorating for Xmas, it all seems particularly irritating this year. I was supposed to be waiting for Sawyer's arrival, not pretending I am excited about watching someone else open a present. I am going to go through the motions, presents for the nieces and nephews (because my miserableness is not their fault and I like buying them books every year,) and dinner with the siblings- because they have been there for me, but I honestly just want this season to be over. I want to wake up and have it be February or March. I want to be past Sawyer's due date. Another reason I would like to speed time up is that the fertility doctor told me he wants to wait until February or March to start treatments again. It took all I had not to cry in his office. So I am trying not to let it get me down too much, but that coupled with the fact that I should be impossibly pregnant right now instead of mourning my son, have me in a particular state of Scrooge-ness. I hate this, and I can't escape it.

So my goals until February or March:
1. Lose more weight, I am down about ten pounds, but I certainly need to lose more.
2. Try on our own to get pregnant, practice makes perfect right?
3. Find meditation or something else non-medicinal that will help me with my anxiety.
4. Stop beating myself up for being sad, I am allowed to still be sad, if other people don't like it, fuck'em.
5. Spend time with the friends who have made time for me in my new state of being. I love my monthly dates with Holly, and I hope we keep them up for the rest of our adult lives.
6. Make Sawyer's place in our home more permanent by framing his picture and finishing his memory box. I want people who come to our home to know we have a son. He may not be alive, but he is our son- he deserves to be recognized as such.

So come on February and March! I truly do hope that other people enjoy the holidays, but remember, not everyone is jolly right now, and sometimes your jolliness is just a reminder of what they are missing.

Drifting

What I should be doing right now--grading the mountain of papers in my bag, or planning for tomorrow's lessons, or doing laundry for our trip to Ocean City this week. I don't feel like doing any of these things. Don't get me wrong, I am excited about Ocean City (not so much the grading and planning,) but I am having trouble staying focused. I feel like my grief and anxiety are waves in the ocean, and they wash ashore, sweeping away the clarity in my mind. Things that help are 1) watching something on TV that requires little thought, 2) talking to my husband about his job, because I don't understand any of it, and 3) eating dark chocolate with sea salt in it (calms me right down.) Another thing that has helped me lately is thinking about the the ways I have changed since Sawyer passed. So here is my "things that are different" list:

1. I rarely laugh for real anymore. I don't know why, but even things that were once hilarious, only seem mildly funny now. Perhaps my sense of humor will return at some point, but what is left is down right dark.

2. I have no room for other peoples grief. Perhaps this too will change, but for right now, mine is too big for me to make space for anyone else's grief.

3. I have zero tolerance for bratty teenagers. Put your life in perspective, losing a fucking sporting event or having your phone taken away is NOT the worst thing that could happen. It really is enough to make me scream.

4. I am becoming a militant atheist. I used to be an apathetic atheist. Fine, believe what you want to believe. But why should religious people get to be the only pushy ones? If they can tell me that I should believe in some magical sky parent, why can't I tell them he doesn't exist. That their lives really aren't that significant, and that there is no paradise waiting for them. P.S. Why do you need a book and a magical sky parent to tell you to be a good person or you will burn in hell? Why not be a good person because it is the right thing to do? Douche bags. People have asked before how I can look at the world an not believe in a god. The first time I truly questioned the idea of a loving creator was when my grandmother (who was the most important person to me) was diagnosed with alzheimer's disease. A woman who had devoted her life to God and her family was doomed to forget the very people she loved most. When she forgot my name, I forgot why I ever believed in a god in the first place. Now, I am even more certain that life is random, and bad shit happens to good people, and there is no rhyme or reason, or master plan. Sawyer did not die for a reason, he died because I had an infection, my body worked against us both, and life is really fucking shitty sometimes.

5. My fandom obsessions are growing. I used to keep my love of all nerdy things hidden from most people, except for Colin since he has to live with me and see all of the nerdiness. The reality is I love Dr. Who, and The Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter, and Supernatural, and The Vampire Diaries, and its spin-off The Originals. I love them all.

6. My brain can really only handle young adult novels right now. I think because they won't typically have my type of loss in them. Other than those, any books that support my idea that religious people are crazy sheep also appeal to me.

7. I have never been a big fan of hugging, but now I like it even less. Get away from me, especially if it is an "I'm so sorry" hug.

8. I don't need my mother. This has been building for some time, but has become more obvious to me since Sawyer died. She is no longer the woman who raised me, she is a petty woman with a drug addiction and mental illness. She refuses to get professional help, instead relying on a religious leader to  counsel her. I thought that in my time of excruciating pain I would miss her, but I don't. I am determined to tend to my own garden, and she can tend to hers.

Just some random info about the new me. Settling into this new skin is painful and I am not sure I like the new me, but for right now I will make my way through it. I am looking forward to Thanksgiving in Ocean City. I am still dreading Christmas and my birthday. I wish Colin and I could afford a trip to someplace during that time where no one knows us. Nothing about the holidays seems joyful this season.

The Ups and Downs

I am becoming an Oscar worthy actress. I can fake my way through my day, my life, seemingly without effort. Acting is hard work though, and I end my days exhausted from the performance. Lately I have been having some flashbacks from labor and delivery. Flashes of holding Sawyer for the first time, when he was still warm and his heart was still beating. Flashes of being wheeled to the OR, shaking uncontrollably, knowing Sawyer would not be warm when I returned. They hit me when I least expect it, rendering me quiet and often trying to fight back tears. While they are painful, I treasure the memories of my son, I have so few. 

Another friend announced her pregnancy online today. I knew she was pregnant before I lost Sawyer, but it was still a sharp pain in my heart to see it. I want to be happy for people, but I am just bitter. I want to yell "Fuck you and your happiness" to these people. Why do they get this happiness? Why are they so sure that a positive pregnancy test, or a sonogram means they are going to bring home a baby? I was sure, and now I will never be sure of anything again. 

I am making an effort to be happy again. I just can't seem to find my footing in this new world. This world where I am always reminded of what I have lost. Our neighbor had her baby. She is a former student of mine, and she had a healthy baby, and I am so angry. I really only like to watch TV that I have recorded so that I can fast forward through the plethora of commercials for baby items or that just feature babies (that stupid insurance commercial.) I have begun to hide anyone from my Facebook feed who has a baby, I just can't look at the pictures and happiness. I am hoping that someday all of this will be easier. I am hoping that the fertility doctors will help us conceive a little brother or sister for Sawyer, and that my experience with childbirth will not always be one of sadness and grief. I will not take it for granted that a positive test equals a living baby ever again though. 

I am dreading the holidays and my birthday. Sawyer was supposed to be my birthday present this year. I was supposed to spend Christmas celebrating my impending motherhood. I hate this new life, but I will continue to be an actress, and I will let my exhaustion consume me at the end of the day.

Back to Reality

   The first week back to work was a mix of emotions. I spent the first day doing my best to hide from the adults in my building. My AP kids seemed happy to have me back, but a little overwhelmed at the amount of work we needed to do to get caught up. The second day I was back in the front of my classroom, and it felt good to be in control of something again. Teaching is a comfort (the bullshit that comes along with it is not) in the sense that it is something I know, something I can do without constantly second guessing myself. My kids have not asked me about anything, all they have said is they are glad to have me back. I decided to play in the class olympics volleyball game, and quick and dirty way to let everyone know I was back. Also, volleyball is a refuge for me. No time to think about anything but playing.
   I feel like I still need to avoid most of the adults in the building. They are not unkind, but if I am going to be at my best in front of the kids I need to save my strength for that. I cried on my way home every day this week. A thirty minute ride to think about what I have lost, and how much life truly sucks right now. I try to get it out before I get home, but sometimes, even if the tears don't make it home, the mood does. I can't fathom how people do this, how do other baby loss moms go back to the real world and carry on as if nothing happened? Every time someone asks how I am and I respond okay or fine, I am lying. I am not okay or fine. I hate life right now, but I need to keep faking like I don't because eventually it might be true. Halloween was hard, I had plans to wear a funny maternity shirt. The thought hit me that I would have been hitting the 30 week mark on Halloween. I would have been ten weeks away from full term. Sawyer would have had more than a fighting chance at surviving if he had been born at 30 weeks.
   Monday is November 4th. Two months since Sawyer was born, two months since he died. Two months since I felt him kick or heard his heartbeat on the ultrasound. Two months since I almost died. So much has changed for me, but not for other people. People announce their pregnancies, and make comments about what its like to have children. I don't count. Sawyer didn't live long enough. I wonder what long enough would have been for other people to consider me a mother? Would he have had to have lived a whole day? Or would he have had to come home with us?
   Everything reminds me of what we lost. Commercials. Being around people who have babies, being around people who are pregnant. Driving past the yard sales and seeing baby items for sale. Talking about redecorating our house and knowing that it won't include painting his room. If I had made it to 30  weeks, I would have been pushing Colin to get his room painted. Instead Sawyer is in a box on the vanity in a room full of stuff. I don't know what to do with all the plans I had made for him. So I will continue to do the only thing I can, fake it.

Anxiety, hooray

I have always had a little bit of anxiety, but I have also always been able to push it aside. I am not the social butterfly that is my husband, but I can usually make conversation in a group, and around my friends and family I talk a lot. This overwhelming anxiety is a new feeling for me. I had to go to school Wednesday afternoon to talk with the teacher who has been substituting for me. I did not plan well. I chose 3 o'clock, thinking all the kids would be gone. I didn't think about the fact that all of the adults would still be there. As I walked through the parking lot, a less than tactful colleague (we'll just call him Jeffrey) said hello, and then asked where I had been. My response was "out." He said, loudly, "No, you have been gone for 2 or 3 weeks, where have you been?!" I responded with "Actually, Jeffrey, I have been gone for 8 weeks, and I would rather not talk about it." I managed to make it past him, but I could feel the tension in my chest increasing. I was taking in huge gulps of air. I just wanted to run back to my car. Thankfully another colleague came around the corner at this exact time and helped me calm myself down as the tears fell. I pulled myself together and walked through the doors. Nothing feels the same anymore. My classroom doesn't feel like it is mine, the hallways (which I have not only walked as a teacher for the last 7 years, but also as a student for 4 before that) don't feel right somehow.

My department was having a meeting, but I didn't go in. I did not stop to say hello. I can't be that person right now, I don't want to be that person anymore. I went straight to my room and sat down with Rich. He sat behind my desk and I sat in a student desk. It was like an out of body experience. This is my room, these are my things, but this is not right, none of it is right. Rich was great, we discussed what the kids had been doing, and talked about how we saw the rest of the semester going. I told him that since he will be with me first period, I would really like for him to take the lead in that class. He agreed, whatever I needed we would do. He asked me if I wanted him to tell the kids what happened. I said yes, and then yesterday I emailed him the statement I wanted him to make. I told him it was very important to me that he did not use the term "miscarriage" or the phrase "lost the baby." I explained that Sawyer was born alive, and that those two things really grate my nerves. I asked him to tell the kids that I had a baby, but that he was much too early and did not live very long. He emailed me back that he appreciated me helping him know what to say, and that he himself was a victim of not understanding what happened. Before I left, we went down and talked to my principal and vice-principals. They all seem very sympathetic and willing to help in any way they can. I hope that continues. By the time I left my anxiety had eased, but I know Monday is going to be the hardest. I am trying not to dwell on it, but the pit in my stomach has already started to form, and sometimes just the thought of having to go back makes my chest tighten.

This past weekend, Colin and I went to Williamsburg (some pictures above) for a little break. We left Thursday afternoon. On Friday, we went to Colonial Williamsburg. The weather was beautiful, and we had a great day together. We walked through the streets, checked out the shops and went through some of the tours. There were people there with babies and pregnant women, but it wasn't crowded so I didn't feel overwhelmed by it. I could simply move away, and that felt better. We had lunch at The King's Arms Tavern. It was fantastic. That night we went to a sushi restaurant in town, and it was great sushi. We will definitely go back to that restaurant on our next visit. Saturday was a different story. Before we went we had looked at the weather. The prediction had been rain Friday, sunny Saturday. We decided on the order of our visit, and chose Saturday for Busch Gardens. It rained. We stopped at K-Mart and bought rain jackets and headed to the park. At first it was great, not a lot of people, so the lines were short. We rode a roller coaster and had some beer. We decided to walk through the park, maybe see a show. We saw what might have been the worst Halloween musical ever designed. It was a mesh of every scary creature (Frankenstein's Monster, Dracula, Wolfman, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon,) eighties music, half-naked dancing nurses (not really sure why Dr. "Freakenstein" needed nurses) an The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was awful. When we got out of the show, the park was packed. My anxiety reared its ugly head. Babies everywhere! WHO BRINGS AN INFANT TO A THEME PARK? Apparently lots of people. By the time we ate lunch I was miserable, but I tried to hide it. We saw an animal show (which made me want a pet fox) and then we both decided it was time to go. A couple with a brand new baby (I swear it couldn't have been more than a month old) was in one of the gift shops we stopped in on our way out. I quickly exited, but then there they were again, on the tram to the parking lots. And getting off at the same stop, and parked in a row near us. I felt like I couldn't get away. I know I am going to have to see babies, and peoples announcements, and pregnant women, but I wish I could just shut off the part of my brain that zones in on it. My chest hurts when I see them. Seeing friends announcements makes me want to scream "Something could go wrong! It did for us." But that wouldn't be fair, I can't take their happiness just because mine is gone.

My grief counselor said she believes that I am a strong person and that my anxiety will decrease as time goes on. It is part of my grief and my minds way of trying to protect me. She said my hope will return too, but that I have to be gentle with myself. Maybe she is right, but to be honest, I don't feel very hopeful for the future and anxiety sucks.

Ranting

Okay, I just need to vent. I posted on Facebook today about it being Infant Loss Awareness day. Just a reminder to people to think kind thoughts. I put nothing about God because I AM AN ATHEIST. I DO NOT believe that my son is with any god, or that he is an angel now (which by the way drives me bonkers because if Abrahamic Dogma were true, people don't become angels, they are a separate fucking species.) I believe that my son was energy, and that energy can never be destroyed only changed. He came from stardust and like the rest of us will, he is dust again. If you think there is a being that is able to do anything, and did not save my son, then why would I ever worship such a piece of shit. If there is a God and he has my son, he better hope I never make it to heaven. If you know people that feel the need to spew religious bullshit to me, please tell them to stop before I use facts to make them realize how stupid their fucking faith is.

Making Plans

I went to my second grief counseling session this morning. It helped to sort through some things that have been bothering me, but also some things that have been really helping me. I had a rough weekend. One of my best friends announced her pregnancy on Facebook. As happy as I am for her, it was like salt in an open wound. If Sawyer had been carried to term, our kids would have been very close in age. If Sawyer has survived, we could have shared in the joys of our first children together. I tried to pick myself up. I went to book club Friday night, and I talked about what happened, surprisingly I was able to do so without crying. Book club was nice, but I still feel very awkward around people, and I can tell that many of them feel awkward around me. Rhonda keeps reminding me to stop worrying so much about how other people feel and focus on me. It is hard to remember some times. Saturday we went to a surprise party for my cousin's wife. When we walked in her sister was there with her 11 week old son and I felt my heart break all over again. Why did this happen to me? Why didn't my body do it's job and protect Sawyer? So I drank, but in reality it didn't numb the pain. I cried the entire way home from Rock Hall, sobbing. I told Colin that as selfish as it sounds, sometimes I wish I hadn't survived. If I hadn't I wouldn't have to feel like this. I would never hurt myself, and I know that it would have hurt my family, but there is a a little part of me that is selfish enough to wish I didn't have to feel at all. Sunday we watched football. My other cousin's wife (there are so many cousins it would be pointless to try and be more specific) is trying to get pregnant. I referred her to my fertility doctor. I was a little taken aback when she said she is going to demand a cerclage. As far as I know, she doesn't have a history of a incompetent cervix. It is almost like she is taking what happened to me and making it about her. I wish her the best of luck, but that just struck me as being a strange thing to say. I also talked about how wonderful my sisters, my brother and my friend Holly have been through this entire ordeal. I don't know what I would do without them. Sawyer is loved by them, and that helps me to know that he will not be forgotten. 

I am heading to school next Wednesday afternoon to see the teacher who has been covering for me and work out some transition stuff. My boss told me that we will take it slow when I get back. She also told me that there is a pregnant student in my class, but because of her IEP and ESL needs my principal has been unable to move her. She said if it is too much for me we will figure out how to make other arrangements. I appreciate the effort she is making to make this easier for me. I am not always good at asking people to help me, but I am working on it. I know that asking for what I need right now is not selfish (mostly because Rhonda keeps telling me that.) I will get through this, I know I can, it just sucks so much that I have to. This was not the plan I had, and now making plans seems pointless sometimes. 

Looking forward to this weekend in Williamsburg, maybe it will help me clear my head a little.

Like waves in the ocean

I read a quote on Pinterest (of all places) that discussed how grief is like the waves of the ocean, ebbing and flowing, receding and returning. That is certainly true. My first meeting with the grief counselor went well. She really helped me feel validated in my grief. It sometimes feels like people are expecting me to be done being sad now (no one in particular, and no one has said this, it is just a feeling I get.) I have more good days with bad moments right now, then bad days with good moments. I have enjoyed getting out on weekends with Colin and spending time with just the two of us. The counselor said this was a good idea, just the two of us spending quality time together. Even though we are grieving in different ways, it is important for us to be together enjoying our life together. She also validated my guilt at being able to do things like drink a beer, or get highlights in my hair. I spent most of the hour crying as I talked about my guilt and anxiety. It was nice to talk to someone who didn't mind the tears, and who consistently validated everything I was feeling. She thought I was doing really well considering everything I have been through. That felt good to hear too.
She did tell me that my intelligence is probably increasing my anxiety about trying again. I have been reading other women's stories of their losses, and realizing that I could have more to battle than incompetent cervix next time. She told me I have to find some way to relax myself, whether it be meditation or soothing music. I have to find a way to not stress my body if we are going to try again. She also told me to think about a statement I could make to people at work if they say something I do not find helpful (like "Sawyer is an angel now.") I also liked that even though she is a religious or spiritual person, she dealt with my atheist frustrations with religious explanations for what happened.
I still get really anxious about being with big groups of people that I know, but I feel like that is getting a little bit easier. I am going to try going back to book club this Friday, and maybe volleyball next week. Everyone in book club knows what happened, no one at volleyball (except for one person) knows. I think when they ask where I have been I am just going to respond, "It is a long and not happy story, I would rather not get into it." I don't want to feel like I am denying Sawyer, but I also don't want to sob when I am trying to get back into the sport I love.
As for trying again, I am going to ask the doc his medical opinion next week for how long I should wait, physically. After that I am going for it. If anything Sawyer has shown me that life is short, sometimes blink of an eye short, and I want living children. I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. I will never replace Sawyer, he will always be my first child, and I will always have an immense amount of love for him. I think I am looking forward to sharing that love with other children in our future.

One Month

Today has been one month. What a bizarre thought, my son has been dead for a month, but he wasn't even supposed to have arrived yet. I feel like I am coping better with the reality of everything that has happened. I have been getting out, walking, making plans, etc. It doesn't take much to make that shell of "coping" crumble though. Driving in my car gives me too much time to think, and my thoughts can't help but go to Sawyer. Little things can set off a chain reaction until I am sobbing again. It doesn't last as long anymore, but the tears are still there, always ready to spring. A sympathy card always brings the tears.
I made an appointment with a grief counselor for Monday. I am hoping she can help me with the anxiety I feel about going back to work in a few weeks. I am worried that a co-worker or a student may say something and I will not be able to stop the tears, or the anger. I also want to talk about my anxiety for trying again with my OB at my next appointment. My first feeling was we would not try again until the summer or spring, but now I am not sure I want to wait that long. Losing Sawyer has not decreased my desire to have another child, if anything it has increased it. Colin and I talked about it yesterday, and he has the same sentiment. Having Sawyer, even if we only had a few minutes with him, has made Colin more certain that he wants more children as well. If the OB says it is okay, we might start trying this winter. Obviously I may change my mind. I do know that when we try again, if we are successful, we will not be announcing it via Facebook or anything else. Looking back at the congrats messages, and the picture of our announcement are heartbreaking. We looked so happy, and I am grateful for the happiness Sawyer brought us during my pregnancy and his few minutes in the world. It is just hard to remember how happy we were and then feel the crushing sadness I feel now.

I read a quote from Tinkerbell and it struck me "You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting." I feel like I could replace Peter's name with Sawyer, because I am always waiting for him in between sleep and waking up.

Happy Anniversary

Today is our second anniversary. While I certainly didn't think we would be celebrating it with such sadness in our hearts, I am very glad to get to spend it with such a wonderful man. Colin makes every day better, even the worst days. He has helped me through my grief, sometimes ignoring his own to make sure I am okay. We have been together for just over six years, and he has made me incredibly happy. Happy Anniversary my love. Always and forever.

Adjustment

I am trying to get past the "what if" part of my grief. I am accepting that Sawyer is gone, and there is nothing that I can do to change that. It doesn't make me miss or love him less, but it does help to put one foot in front of the other and to stop crying constantly. I know that there will still be things that trigger tears, like hugs and sympathy cards, but not spending the entire day crying makes me feel less broken. Instead, I feel zombie-like. I am doing things, I am around people, but all with a layer of fog between us.

Thursday night I went to get my hair cut. My sisters and Aunt Mary went with me. I needed to change my hair, I had been growing it out during pregnancy and not coloring it. One of those "trying to do everything right" during pregnancy things. I felt like getting it cut and colored would be a good step in moving forward. Like the alcohol and brie, there was a pang of guilt, but I know that I can't get better if I don't allow myself things that make me feel better. I really like my hair. We went out to dinner after, and it was nice to hear about other things going on in everyone's lives. It did make me realize that if I want Sawyer acknowledged, or what happened acknowledged, I will have to bring it up. I get that people don't want to upset me, so I can adjust to that.

Friday night Colin and I went to my brother's house for dinner. My nephew (who is 5) right away said, "Hi Aunt Cheryl, I hear your baby came too early." All I could say was "Yes, he did come too early." This is one of the things I have been dreading, my youngest nieces and nephews talking about Sawyer. My niece was very excited about me having a baby, and I haven't seen her yet, but I am worried about her asking me about the baby. Colin seemed really concerned about me when my nephew asked about Sawyer, but I took a minuted to breathe and got it together. He is only 5, clearly he wasn't trying to upset me. The concept of a baby and in particular a dead baby is beyond his reasoning right now. It was nice to talk to my sister-in-law. She said there seems to be a bit of confusion at my work about what happened. She said some people have referred to my miscarriage. She has corrected them, I did not have a miscarriage, Sawyer was born. I worry that this will be something I have to correct for a long time. People not understanding the terminology, and not realizing that my son was alive when he was born, he was just too early for the doctors to be able to do anything to keep him alive.

Yesterday was a nice day. My husband decided we should do a day trip like the ones we did when we first started dating. We were just going to get in the car and go, and check out different places. We started at Great Falls, and the weather was great. I only wish I had worn more "outdoorsy" shoes and clothes. We are definitely going to go back, so next time I will be more prepared. We left the falls and headed towards DC. We decided to go to Chinatown. We walked around and decided on the Spanish tapas restaurant (in Chinatown, makes all the sense in the world.) The food was very nice. At one point I started zoning out, and Colin asked me what I was thinking about. I didn't answer, but what I was thinking was "This is not what I pictured for us this fall." I had pictured us preparing for a baby in the winter, and I had pictured us hanging with friends and family. My sister had a party at her house last night, I chose not to go. When Colin asked I told him I was not feeling particularly jovial and did not want to be the "Debbie downer" at the party. He understood. We headed home and stopped in Bowie to get Starbucks. While there, we decided to look around jewelry stores. Our 2nd anniversary is next week, and I had told Colin I would like to get a ring with sapphire (Sawyer's birthstone) as piece of memorial jewelry. He wanted me to pick it out because he wanted it to be something I liked. I found a beautiful silver, sapphire and diamond ring that I really liked. At the same time, I hate that I have to get a piece of memorial jewelry for my son. My son shouldn't be dead, he was a perfect healthy baby whose misfortune was in having a mother with an incompetent cervix. We sent the ring off to be sized, and I am excited to get it back on the 10th of October.

Colin and I are planning to go away in October, we have booked a three day weekend in Williamsburg, VA. It is a chance for us to get away from the house and be with each other. No distractions or other people, just us. We are using some money that I was planning to save for things we didn't get at a baby shower. I think this trip will be good for us.

A So-So Day

I was thinking about my 1st year of spanish class today when Colin asked me how my day was. I remember always answering "asi asi" when someone would ask "Como estas." "So So." What a perfect way to describe this day. There were positives. I went to lunch with one of my very best friends, and we talked about Sawyer and other things. She understands that talking about him is okay and that it validates that he was here. She understood my sudden burst of anger when I got a sympathy card today that said "sorry to hear about your miscarriage." I wanted to scream in the middle of my driveway "I DID NOT HAVE A MISCARRIAGE!" My son was born, his heart was beating, he died. I don't say this to diminish the pain of someone who has had a miscarriage, I cannot imagine that as I have never had one, but neonatal death and miscarriage are different. It felt good to talk to her and to not have to fake being okay.
 I made the decision when I knew that Sawyer was going to be born too early that I would not put my maternity clothes back on. I had just gone shopping for new ones before the school year started, and I could not see putting any of them back on when I was no longer pregnant and had no baby to bring home. I have been washing them and putting them in a space bag. Perhaps when we try again I will revisit them, maybe not. We'll see how I feel when the time comes. I decided that while I was out today I would stop at Old Navy and buy some non-maternity clothes to restock my supply and maybe even have a little "retail therapy." Maybe I should have just shopped online. I was doing okay looking for clothes, then a little red haired girl in a stroller said hello to me, and I almost lost it. My husband has red hair, and I always pictured Sawyer with red hair. He was too small for his hair to have pigment when he was born, so I will never know if he would have had red hair, but it still got me to see this happy little girl. The next hurdle was the dressing room. I had to walk through the baby section to get to it. I had officially had enough by the time I made it into the dressing room. I sat on the bench and cried for about 5 minutes, trying to stay quiet about it. Once I pulled myself together I tried on some clothes. They fit, but nothing felt right. I bought some stuff, but it lacked the excitement I used to get from new clothes. Everything seems bland or blurry right now. Like I am swimming through tar in the fog. Everything takes more effort and I can't see things all that well. It was an asi asi kind of day. Good things and bad things, and right now that seems the best that I can hope for.

Maybe too much too soon...

I asked Colin if we could go out last night to dinner. I thought, I need to get out of this house and so we should go. We invited two of our friends to go with us. I had two stipulations, we needed to go out of town so that I didn't run into someone I knew, and our friends could not hug me because that seems to be my trigger for crying. I know crying is okay, but I did not want to cry right before we went to dinner. I found out that maybe I wasn't ready, but in typical me fashion, I just pushed through it.

Things I am struggling with:

1. It felt like they put us in the baby/little boy section. Babies everywhere, little boys everywhere. I couldn't handle it. There was a baby about 5 feet away, and I kept finding my eyes traveling to the baby and then away before I started crying. I wonder how long this is going to last. It is like when you buy a new car and then you see a bunch of people with that same car, except it is the car you really wanted and don't get to have and everyone else has it.

2. I had trouble making eye contact or conversation with our friends. I love them, and I don't want them to feel like they have to walk on egg shells around me. It was just hard. I find eye contact with most people really difficult right now.

3. I ordered a margarita and felt that pang of guilt and longing. I shouldn't have been able to drink that, I shouldn't be drinking, I should still be pregnant.

4. The baby weight is gone, I miss my pregnant body. I miss feeling my son.

I know I will have to work through these struggles. I made some paintings the other day, and it seemed to help get some of my feelings. I think more painting is in the future. Every day I just pause and tell Sawyer that I love him, no matter where I am or what I am doing, I just have to say it out loud when it strikes me. I hope I never stop doing that, no matter the tears it brings or the sudden bit of pain in my heart. I love my son, and I am a mother even if he is no longer here with me. I will never forget him, I will never get over him, I will always have him in my heart.

Get It Together Girl

I find myself repeating that mantra today. A friend of mine welcomed her little girl to the world today, and she has been through so much tragedy that I can't help but be overjoyed for her. At the same time I feel a burning heart ache. I looked forward to the same joy in January, and I just cannot seem to be connected to people who get that joy when I do not. I do not begrudge them their children, but I am jealous. I don't know how to let go of that jealousy. Nothing about this is fair. Maybe I should turn off my Facebook for a while. Just disengage with the outside world until I am ready to be truly happy for people.
I decided to start painting again, I am not the best, but it does help to get out some of my feelings on the canvas. This blogging seems to be helping too. Putting my feelings down in writing seems to verify them, and to let me get them out. I am still angry, and it is okay for me to feel angry. I also asked my sister to make an appointment to get my hair cut. I plan to make a drastic change. I was letting my hair stay long because someone suggested that I would probably want it out of the way when I gave birth in January. Now I just want it gone. I want it a different color (I wasn't dying it because of the baby) and I want it gone. I feel guilty taking a drink, guzzling caffeine, eating brie and I will probably feel guilty dying my hair. I shouldn't be able to do these things right now, I should still be pregnant. I want to scream that at the top of my lungs, but I can't find the air. I SHOULD STILL BE PREGNANT. My body robbed me of this, and I want to shed my own skin and get out of this traitorous body. Ugh. Get it together girl. There is no snapping out of this, I need to grieve and be kind to myself, but it is a challenge. Get it together.

Two Weeks

On Tuesday I went out to lunch with my sister, and while it felt awkward to be out among people, it felt good to talk to her. We talked about my hospital stay, and about Sawyer, but we also talked about other things. It was a reminder to me that while my world stopped spinning, the rest of the world kept going.
Yesterday marked two weeks since I gave birth to Sawyer. Two weeks since I heard his heartbeat or felt him move. Two weeks since I said goodbye. I had a hard morning thinking about all that happened. Again, the "what ifs" got to me. I had my first appointment with my OB since my hospital stay in the afternoon. The waiting room was hard. There was a woman there with her little boy and she was pregnant. Her little boy was acting up and she was trying to remain calm. All I could think was, I am jealous of your ability to deal with a tantrum. In the appointment, I was reminded that my doctor is an amazing guy. I was prepared for an exam. Instead, he came in and just talked to me. He wanted to know how I was doing both physically and emotionally. He encouraged me to seek someone to talk to, but also to find my own way to heal. He told me to find things that I like doing and not to feel guilty about doing them. He also reassured me that there was nothing I did wrong. I had a perfectly normal pregnancy, and my incompetent cervix was a tragic occurrence. He told me that the infection I had contracted because my membranes were exposed was E. coli. He said that if they had tried to delay labor the infection, even with antibiotics would have continued to grow and that not only would we have lost Sawyer, but probably me as well. He said when I go see him in October he will do an exam, and we will talk about future pregnancies, although he doesn't want me to get pregnant right away (neither do I.)
 None of this makes me miss Sawyer less, I miss feeling him move and knowing he is here. I miss the plans that I had for him. I saw a Halloween commercial this morning and thought about how I had planned to wear one of those funny Halloween maternity shirts to school that day. I got mad, again at my body. It let me down, it let Colin down and it let Sawyer down. Commercials are hard, particularly ones for baby stuff. I emailed BabysRUs the other day to shut down my registry. I deleted my pinterest board of baby stuff. It feels like doing those things are part of letting go of Sawyer and they make me want to punch a wall. I feel angry and empty and heartbroken. I just want to wake up from this nightmare, and there are about ten seconds between sleep and awake where it feels that way. Then I wake up and I am back in this nightmare. I want to remember the good things, the joy that he brought me, but I think it is still too fresh. I remember the pain of contractions and the pain of knowing I couldn't stop them. I remember the pain of holding him, knowing he couldn't be saved. I remember the numbness of the next four days, laying in a hospital bed, being pumped full of antibiotics, and thinking I just needed to get home to grieve. How could I grieve in the same room where I gave birth to my son? I am waiting for a full day where I can remember the joy and not the pain. In the meantime I am trying to take the advice of some of the other moms who have experienced loss, I am trying to be gentle with myself.

Shattered Dreams

I had planned on starting a blog once Sawyer was born to share pictures of him and stories of his first word, steps, etc. While I cannot share those first milestones, I can share Sawyer's story and in the process let out some of the grief that I have.

Sawyer's Story- Colin and I have talked about having kids together since we first started dating. I liked to joke with him, when he would say he wanted kids, that if he liked it he better put a ring on it. Well, it took him long enough, but he did finally put a ring on it. I stopped taking birth control and we gave conception a go. Unfortunately my body was not working, so after trying for a year I went to the lovely people at Reproductive Associates of Delaware, and our fertility journey began. After a multitude of tests, I was diagnosed with PCOS. We began a round of cycles. I would take Clomid for 5 days, then I would get examined via ultrasound and blood testing to see if I was ready to ovulate. The next step was an injection in my stomach to make the egg drop. We were very lucky, while our first two cycles did not work, the third (and our first using IUI) was successful. In late April we got the news that I was pregnant. We were ecstatic. I tried to do everything right, I was eating well, drinking a ton of water, cutting out caffeine and exercising. After my 11 week check with the fertility doctor I "graduated" to my OB/GYN. We started my monthly check ups and set up my appointments at maternal fetal medicine for downs syndrome screening. Everything was going well, and I will always remember my summer of pregnancy as a wonderful experience. I have a large family (I am the youngest of 28 cousins on my Mom's side) and everyone seemed very excited for us. We announced our pregnancy to everyone on Father's Day with a clever picture on Facebook of me eating a pickle and ice cream and Colin reading "What to Expect When You Are Expecting." I don't know that I have ever been as happy as I was this summer. On August 16th I went for my second screening at Maternal Fetal Medicine of Delaware. We found out we were having a boy, and I already had his name picked out. Sawyer. I pictured a chubby red haired baby who would grow into a member of the FFA and a total book worm like his mom. Towards the end of my appointment the ultrasound technician was checking my cervix and said it looked like it wasn't closing all the way. I waited for what seemed like forever, and the doctor came in. He said everything looked fine and that I was probably just contracting from all the pushing and prodding of the ultrasound. I wish I had pushed for him to examine me again, but hindsight is 20/20. The next Friday I went to see my OB, she checked his heartbeat, everything sounded great and I was on my way. That was the last happy appointment I would have.

On Tuesday, August 27th, I was talking to my AP World class when I felt liquid in my pants. I went to the bathroom after class and noticed that it was clear, but did not have smell. I felt it one more time that day, but it was not a gush (the word all the doctors use to scare us) so I thought, "If it happens again tomorrow I will call the doctor. Another part of heartbreak is wondering if I had gone that day, if they could have somehow stopped what was happening. The same thing happened on Wednesday, so I called the doctor and made an appointment for Thursday after work. When I arrived at the appointment the doctor checked Sawyer's heartbeat, and it sounded great. 145. Then she checked my cervix and my world fell apart. She instructed me to put my clothes back on and then lay back down. She told me I needed to go to the hospital (45 minutes away because our local hospital does not have any services for labor and delivery.) She explained that I had an incompetent cervix and that I needed to keep pressure off of my cervix. She also explained that if my membranes ruptured, that Sawyer was too small to be viable. I called my husband and he came and got me. We drove to the hospital, Colin worrying and me sobbing. I felt numb by the time I arrived at the hospital. They checked me in, and I was examined by the on call hospitalist and the high risk OB. They explained the situation to me again, that I would need to be on strict bed rest, that it would be at least 3 weeks until Sawyer was viable and that so far, it looked as if my membranes had not ruptured.

I was put in a room and in a position where my head was lower than my feet. The idea was to let gravity pull my amniotic sac back out of my cervix. They did not put me on antibiotics because there was no evidence of infection and it could single out the bad bacteria if they didn't put me on the right one. I settled in, it was awful, bed pans are not easy to use, and on days when Colin had to work I felt very alone. None of the discomfort mattered, I could stick it out to keep Sawyer alive. Hearing his heartbeat every 8 hours kept me sane. He was still going strong and he was as active as ever. On Monday (labor day) Colin got to feel him kick. It was the first time he had actually felt him, I finally got to share it with him. On Wednesday the doctor told me that the plan was to keep to the course we were on. I was frustrated, I wanted to see the high risk OB again and I wanted them to check to see if my membranes were making any changes. I called Colin crying and he decided he would take a half day from work to come be with me. I am so glad that we had made that decision. They let me get up to be weighed and use the bathroom, and about thirty minutes later I began to get pains in my left side. I thought that me getting up had caused them, and they confirmed that they were contractions. It was too early, I was 21 weeks and 6 days, they would do nothing to stop the contractions this early.

My sisters came, and Colin. They helped me through the worst of the contractions until I got my epidural. I felt numb and panicked at the same time. It was inevitable that he would be born too soon, but maybe, just maybe he would be that story. He would be that baby who would beat all of the odds. Around 9 PM the doctor checked me and said it would probably be another hour. They had just checked my temperature, and it was 96.9. The doctor commented that one side of my body felt very warm while the other felt very cold. Around 9:30 my entire body started to convulse. I was having chills that were uncontrollable. At 10, the doctor came back in. They took my temperature again, it was 101.4. She ordered cultures and they tried to get blood but my veins were not cooperating. At that point she said it was too late and that they needed to deliver Sawyer. I don't know where I found the strength to do it. I wanted to scream at them, and tell them they couldn't take him yet. I was so angry. It took about 30 minutes and I felt him leave me. The nurse cleaned him off and brought him to me wrapped in a blanket. He still felt warm, and I could feel the faintest beat of his heart. It took me a while to remember it, maybe I made it up, but I would like to think that he faded from the world while in his mother's arms. Colin and I were both a wreck, but they told me I needed to deliver the placenta. When they were unable to get it out, the doctor told me they would have to take me to the OR. I had to sign a paper, and they took me in. I was still shaking violently. They put me under for the D and C.

What I didn't know until after was that I almost died as well. The infection was bad, and no amount of drugs to stop labor would have kept Sawyer alive. My body failed to protect him. My fever spiked at 104 in the OR. When they brought me out they had to put a cooling blanket on me to bring it down below 101. I would be in the hospital another 4 days being pumped full of antibiotics to get my temperature under control. When they brought me back to my room my siblings were all there. They left, and Colin and I held Sawyer and talked to him. We let him know how much we loved him and wanted him. We told him we would never forget him. We touched his perfect little face and his tiny hands. I told him I was sorry. I know that I did not do anything to cause this, but it was my body that failed and I am still angry with my body for letting him down. We kissed him and said our goodbyes. We had a wonderful nurse that night, who took him to take pictures of him and told us that if we changed our minds and wanted him back in the room, she would get him at any time. I didn't think I could say goodbye again, so we chose to let him go. I haven't looked at the pictures yet, I am thinking I might look this weekend. Sawyer was in our lives for 5 1/2 months, and in this world for only a few moments, but he has completely changed our lives. I decided to start this blog to help remember Sawyer.