As November looms around the corner, there is nothing that can be said or done to make the painful memory of the miscarriage go away. Come November 28, there will be no child in our arms or family of three. Dwelling on this makes me incredibly sad at times. Will there ever come a time when that date doesn't make me sad?
For me, this entire year has been one gigantic hurdle. One large mountain to climb. One nightmare that will not end. One year filled with tragic and life-altering events.
At times I feel like I struggle to just keep a grasp on my sanity. Most of the time, I want to hide under a rock for an indefinite amount of time. Months ago I wanted this year to end, and now I'm afraid to think of what a new year will bring. This to shall pass, right? Who the hell knows.
My faith is not doing much to sustain me. Friends and family bring me temporary joy. My husband is supportive and loving beyond belief but still I feel a void. School and work keep my mind off of things but contribute to my stress levels. The only way to explain how I feel is that there is an emptiness inside of me that won't go away. That emptiness seems to not want to be filled by any of the positives in my life.
I've done enough poo-pooing for the day and need to pull myself together. My heart goes out to you all that are swimming through a similar sea of crap.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
From the Heart of a Husband
I gave the Husband access to my blog. Enjoy-
March 20, 2011
Today is one of the happiest days of my life. Around 4:30 this afternoon, Kristin and I found out that we are going to be parents. When she showed me the test, I was overwhelmed with joy, excitement, and pride. After making a life for ourselves, we have created life together. I cannot put into words how it feels to know that our son or daughter is growing inside the body of my beautiful wife. Soon, I will be able to see a picture our child in her belly. She is the most special woman in my life, and I could not be happier to be starting a family with her.
This is the first entry in my baby journal. I vividly remember being called into our bathroom by a shocked Kristin, seeing a plus sign on the pregnancy test, and being unable to do anything other than crack the biggest smile of my life. I knew instinctively right then and there that my life was never going to be the same again, and that I was going to do everything in my power to ensure that my wife and child were happy and provided for.
As new parents, our lives became about our baby. We researched which foods to avoid, which supplements to take, and argued about baby names while we waited for our first chance to see our baby on the ultrasound. After a seemingly endless two weeks, the day finally came. As Kristin lay on the doctor’s table with her hand in mine, we saw our baby for the first time. Just as I thought my capacity for joy and love were saturated, they grew ten fold. Far beyond a mark on a stick, I was now looking at an actual picture of the life we created growing inside her.
Five days later, I was working a 17-hour overnight shift. It wasn’t the sort of work I would normally take, but I had a family to support so I bit the bullet. In the wee hours of the morning I felt pretty good, having gotten most of the shift behind me without any trouble. Then it started. Kristin told me she was having problems. We were both scared. Her obstetrician offered little comfort. After an eternity, I convinced her to call an ambulance while I made my way to the hospital. It was raining hard and a few streets were flooding, but my only thought was getting there as fast as I could. I didn’t want to believe that we were going to lose our baby. I hoped that they would find nothing wrong and send us home.
When I finally arrived and found Kristin’s room, it was already too late. Overcome by shock, all I could do was hold her. After a few moments, it started to sink in: our baby was gone. We would never get to see or hold our baby.
I joined Kristin in a complete emotional breakdown. We cried and prayed together, trying to come to terms with what had happened. Our world was destroyed. There was nothing we could do to change that. All we could do was mourn our loss.
I wonder where the term “expecting parents” came from. In my experience, there is no such thing as an expecting parent. From the very moment I found out that Kristin was pregnant, I became a dad. Not an expecting dad; just a dad. Even though I never got to see our baby, or hold or kiss or snuggle with our baby, he or she was a real human child with a heartbeat, and I am his or her father.
Going through a miscarriage is losing a child. That may seem obvious, but many people seem not to understand it. I doubt anyone would try to console a parent who lost a 10-year-old by saying that they will have other children, or that everything happens for a reason. Why then do some find it acceptable to offer such words to victims of miscarriage? Yes, I take comfort in the knowledge that we are likely to have other children—and I hope that what we’ve been through will only make the experience sweeter—but that does not in any way, shape or form make up for the child that we lost. Nothing ever will.
After losing a child, there is really nothing comforting that can be said. I found comfort in genuine interest from loved ones. Being reminded that I have family who love and care about me was the only thing that made me feel better.
Because of this experience, I now know a father’s love. I also know the love a man has for the mother of his children. There is a incredible level of intimacy that comes from creating life together.
Our baby lives on. Not only in our hearts and memories, but in the very essence of our beings and our relationship. Our baby is part of us, forever.
March 20, 2011
Today is one of the happiest days of my life. Around 4:30 this afternoon, Kristin and I found out that we are going to be parents. When she showed me the test, I was overwhelmed with joy, excitement, and pride. After making a life for ourselves, we have created life together. I cannot put into words how it feels to know that our son or daughter is growing inside the body of my beautiful wife. Soon, I will be able to see a picture our child in her belly. She is the most special woman in my life, and I could not be happier to be starting a family with her.
This is the first entry in my baby journal. I vividly remember being called into our bathroom by a shocked Kristin, seeing a plus sign on the pregnancy test, and being unable to do anything other than crack the biggest smile of my life. I knew instinctively right then and there that my life was never going to be the same again, and that I was going to do everything in my power to ensure that my wife and child were happy and provided for.
As new parents, our lives became about our baby. We researched which foods to avoid, which supplements to take, and argued about baby names while we waited for our first chance to see our baby on the ultrasound. After a seemingly endless two weeks, the day finally came. As Kristin lay on the doctor’s table with her hand in mine, we saw our baby for the first time. Just as I thought my capacity for joy and love were saturated, they grew ten fold. Far beyond a mark on a stick, I was now looking at an actual picture of the life we created growing inside her.
Five days later, I was working a 17-hour overnight shift. It wasn’t the sort of work I would normally take, but I had a family to support so I bit the bullet. In the wee hours of the morning I felt pretty good, having gotten most of the shift behind me without any trouble. Then it started. Kristin told me she was having problems. We were both scared. Her obstetrician offered little comfort. After an eternity, I convinced her to call an ambulance while I made my way to the hospital. It was raining hard and a few streets were flooding, but my only thought was getting there as fast as I could. I didn’t want to believe that we were going to lose our baby. I hoped that they would find nothing wrong and send us home.
When I finally arrived and found Kristin’s room, it was already too late. Overcome by shock, all I could do was hold her. After a few moments, it started to sink in: our baby was gone. We would never get to see or hold our baby.
I joined Kristin in a complete emotional breakdown. We cried and prayed together, trying to come to terms with what had happened. Our world was destroyed. There was nothing we could do to change that. All we could do was mourn our loss.
I wonder where the term “expecting parents” came from. In my experience, there is no such thing as an expecting parent. From the very moment I found out that Kristin was pregnant, I became a dad. Not an expecting dad; just a dad. Even though I never got to see our baby, or hold or kiss or snuggle with our baby, he or she was a real human child with a heartbeat, and I am his or her father.
Going through a miscarriage is losing a child. That may seem obvious, but many people seem not to understand it. I doubt anyone would try to console a parent who lost a 10-year-old by saying that they will have other children, or that everything happens for a reason. Why then do some find it acceptable to offer such words to victims of miscarriage? Yes, I take comfort in the knowledge that we are likely to have other children—and I hope that what we’ve been through will only make the experience sweeter—but that does not in any way, shape or form make up for the child that we lost. Nothing ever will.
After losing a child, there is really nothing comforting that can be said. I found comfort in genuine interest from loved ones. Being reminded that I have family who love and care about me was the only thing that made me feel better.
Because of this experience, I now know a father’s love. I also know the love a man has for the mother of his children. There is a incredible level of intimacy that comes from creating life together.
Our baby lives on. Not only in our hearts and memories, but in the very essence of our beings and our relationship. Our baby is part of us, forever.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Writing from the Heart
I came across this little dedication while browsing through an after miscarriage jealousy forum:
Some nights i wake up wondering how different life
would be if God hadn't decided to make you one of
his angels.. and then i think long and hard you came
into my life for as long as you did because that was
both our destinies.. There isn't one day i don’t
wonder what if.. One thing i am sure of is that you
are forever in my heart i love you baby girl!
Isn't it beautiful? It describes my feelings exactly.
I have been having a hard time lately with jealousy. It seems like everyone I know is pregnant. I cannot honestly say that I am happy for them because the jealousy I feel is overwhelming. Whenever I talk to people about this, they tend to say the same thing- "You will have a baby someday".
That statement bothers me a bit because I feel like they are assuming that I only want a cute, cuddly baby to oh and ah over. I don't want to have a baby to have a baby, I want a family. In addition to jealousy, I also feel very lonely. Sure it's nice to be able to do what I want, when I want. Sleep whenever I want and for however long I want, but I would trade those things instantly for a family. It sure does get lonely with just the two of us.
Another thing I would like to leave you readers with is this-
I feel like the emotional toil of a miscarriage will never be understood by those that have not had miscarriages. I also get a sense that a lot of women do not put themselves in the place of a woman that has had a miscarriage. If you are a mother that was fortunate enough to deliver and raise a child, imagine what your life would be like if your child was never born. Could you imagine life without your child? Women that have had miscarriages, stillbirths, or infant loss have to imagine life without their child each and every day. Chances are when these women found out they were pregnant their entire life changed the instant the pee stick showed positive. They planned and prepared. They saw their baby on a sonogram and heard their baby's hearbeat. Their pregnancy was real and their child meant just as much as your child or children mean to you. With that, I encourage you to open your heart and sympathize with the women that have had to carry the burden of pregnancy and infant loss.
Blessings of peace and comfort to all of you grieving mothers out there.
Some nights i wake up wondering how different life
would be if God hadn't decided to make you one of
his angels.. and then i think long and hard you came
into my life for as long as you did because that was
both our destinies.. There isn't one day i don’t
wonder what if.. One thing i am sure of is that you
are forever in my heart i love you baby girl!
Isn't it beautiful? It describes my feelings exactly.
I have been having a hard time lately with jealousy. It seems like everyone I know is pregnant. I cannot honestly say that I am happy for them because the jealousy I feel is overwhelming. Whenever I talk to people about this, they tend to say the same thing- "You will have a baby someday".
That statement bothers me a bit because I feel like they are assuming that I only want a cute, cuddly baby to oh and ah over. I don't want to have a baby to have a baby, I want a family. In addition to jealousy, I also feel very lonely. Sure it's nice to be able to do what I want, when I want. Sleep whenever I want and for however long I want, but I would trade those things instantly for a family. It sure does get lonely with just the two of us.
Another thing I would like to leave you readers with is this-
I feel like the emotional toil of a miscarriage will never be understood by those that have not had miscarriages. I also get a sense that a lot of women do not put themselves in the place of a woman that has had a miscarriage. If you are a mother that was fortunate enough to deliver and raise a child, imagine what your life would be like if your child was never born. Could you imagine life without your child? Women that have had miscarriages, stillbirths, or infant loss have to imagine life without their child each and every day. Chances are when these women found out they were pregnant their entire life changed the instant the pee stick showed positive. They planned and prepared. They saw their baby on a sonogram and heard their baby's hearbeat. Their pregnancy was real and their child meant just as much as your child or children mean to you. With that, I encourage you to open your heart and sympathize with the women that have had to carry the burden of pregnancy and infant loss.
Blessings of peace and comfort to all of you grieving mothers out there.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
September
September.
Sweet little one, had you have stuck around, you would have been born in a little less than three months.
Sweet little one, had you have stuck around, you would have been born in a little less than three months.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Time of the Month
Since my miscarriage in April, I have this ridiculous fear that every period I have is really a miscarriage in disguise.
Why? Because the painfulness of my cycles have been miscarriage level pain minus the amount of bleeding. My OB informed me that it might take up to three or four cycles for my cycle to return back to normal. Never in my life have I experienced such horrible, intense cycles as the ones post miscarriage.
-A little history-
My cycles before my pregnancy happened like clockwork thanks to the medicine Metformin. Not to worry, I do not take Metformin for insulin/diabetes control. I take it for ovarian cysts, possible polycycstic ovarian syndrome, and to help manage my endometriosis. After the first six months of taking the medication, my cycles became normal. Before the medication my cycles were sporadic and ovarian cysts occurred monthly.
Sometime in the late 90's, can't remember the exact year, I was hospitalized for severe lower abdominal pain. I remember the day vividly. I was playing in the Gus Macker basketball tournament and my dad was my team's coach. I was on the sidelines waiting to play when suddenly I felt sick beyond belief and had some serious stomach pain. I ran to the nearest trash can to lose my cookies. I had trouble walking upright. My friend's mom told my parents that she thought I had appendicitis. I was rushed to the hospital. They did some rebound tests and a scan, but no pesky appendicitis was diagnosed. My white blood cell count was down and I was very, very ill. I was in the hospital for a week. It was determined that either I had a ruptured ovarian cyst or some sort of lower intestine infection. After knowing what a ruptured cyst and cyst pain feel like, I'm positive that I experienced a ruptured cyst.
In 2004 I was hospitalized for severe lower stomach pain. My appendix was determined to be the possible culprit again until a softball sized cyst was located on the CT scan. The pain was just awful and luckily the cyst dissolved on it's own and no further action was needed. I was so happy that that blasted cyst dissolved itself before surgery was scheduled.
In 2008 I had surgery to remove some endometriosis from my uterus. The surgery was successful at eliminating a large portion of the pain I experienced all the time. For example, there were times when sneezing would hurt me so bad I would want to pass out, bowel movements were excruciating, brushing my belly against the counter or some other object would make me squirmish and some adult activities simply could not be done because of the pain.
-History complete-
It's been four months since the miscarriage and you can say that we are TTC (Trying to Conceive) since we are not actively preventing pregnancy. In fact, we are doing nothing to prevent pregnancy. No luck so far, but that is OK. My body is still recovering and getting back to normal. We welcome the blessing of another pregnancy with open arms and look forward to the day we will be able to meet that sweet little spirit.
Why? Because the painfulness of my cycles have been miscarriage level pain minus the amount of bleeding. My OB informed me that it might take up to three or four cycles for my cycle to return back to normal. Never in my life have I experienced such horrible, intense cycles as the ones post miscarriage.
-A little history-
My cycles before my pregnancy happened like clockwork thanks to the medicine Metformin. Not to worry, I do not take Metformin for insulin/diabetes control. I take it for ovarian cysts, possible polycycstic ovarian syndrome, and to help manage my endometriosis. After the first six months of taking the medication, my cycles became normal. Before the medication my cycles were sporadic and ovarian cysts occurred monthly.
Sometime in the late 90's, can't remember the exact year, I was hospitalized for severe lower abdominal pain. I remember the day vividly. I was playing in the Gus Macker basketball tournament and my dad was my team's coach. I was on the sidelines waiting to play when suddenly I felt sick beyond belief and had some serious stomach pain. I ran to the nearest trash can to lose my cookies. I had trouble walking upright. My friend's mom told my parents that she thought I had appendicitis. I was rushed to the hospital. They did some rebound tests and a scan, but no pesky appendicitis was diagnosed. My white blood cell count was down and I was very, very ill. I was in the hospital for a week. It was determined that either I had a ruptured ovarian cyst or some sort of lower intestine infection. After knowing what a ruptured cyst and cyst pain feel like, I'm positive that I experienced a ruptured cyst.
In 2004 I was hospitalized for severe lower stomach pain. My appendix was determined to be the possible culprit again until a softball sized cyst was located on the CT scan. The pain was just awful and luckily the cyst dissolved on it's own and no further action was needed. I was so happy that that blasted cyst dissolved itself before surgery was scheduled.
In 2008 I had surgery to remove some endometriosis from my uterus. The surgery was successful at eliminating a large portion of the pain I experienced all the time. For example, there were times when sneezing would hurt me so bad I would want to pass out, bowel movements were excruciating, brushing my belly against the counter or some other object would make me squirmish and some adult activities simply could not be done because of the pain.
-History complete-
It's been four months since the miscarriage and you can say that we are TTC (Trying to Conceive) since we are not actively preventing pregnancy. In fact, we are doing nothing to prevent pregnancy. No luck so far, but that is OK. My body is still recovering and getting back to normal. We welcome the blessing of another pregnancy with open arms and look forward to the day we will be able to meet that sweet little spirit.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Many Mountains to Climb
To add insult to injury, I was laid off of my full-time job of four years. Although said job has recently returned to me with a new part-time proposition that I accepted, I am still very, very bitter about what happened.
The lay off happened on Wednesday the 20th.
After I was let go, I was escorted out of the building, boarded the light rail, and made my way back home, completely alone. The loneliness and pain that I felt yesterday was reminiscent of the loneliness and pain felt during my miscarriage. Of course the two are completely different, but both experiences initiated similar feelings.
Once again my life completely changed. Too much of that has happened this year.
In this year alone, I have lost my dear grandfather, first child and job. My husband earlier in the year lost his job and has since found another. We have been slammed with medical bills and passed due bills since the miscarriage. It was not because my husband was out of work that these bills were not paid, it was because I stopped paying them(I'm the bill payer of the house) after the miscarriage. It is not that I didn't want to pay them; I literally did not even think to pay them. The thought did not register in my mind. I wish it had.
I've heard that calm seas do not make great sailors, but are these experiences really making me a great sailor? I just can't tell. There are days when I want to give up and days when I literally do not want to get up. I question on occasion how I continue on in this mess of a life I have for myself right now. When and how will things get better?
If the big man upstairs is testing me, I truly hope he is finished for now. I realize that I am having a tiny pity party and need to focus on what and who I have in my life, but at this very moment, it is not easy.
All in all, I'm blessed to have my family, friends, animals, house, vehicles and other things in my life. I have to focus on the positives and I will try my best.
If you're going through a hellacious time in your life right now, my heart is out to you. We will get through this I'm sure, we just cannot lose whatever faith we might have. May we start climbing over these mountains soon. Peace and blessings.
The lay off happened on Wednesday the 20th.
After I was let go, I was escorted out of the building, boarded the light rail, and made my way back home, completely alone. The loneliness and pain that I felt yesterday was reminiscent of the loneliness and pain felt during my miscarriage. Of course the two are completely different, but both experiences initiated similar feelings.
Once again my life completely changed. Too much of that has happened this year.
In this year alone, I have lost my dear grandfather, first child and job. My husband earlier in the year lost his job and has since found another. We have been slammed with medical bills and passed due bills since the miscarriage. It was not because my husband was out of work that these bills were not paid, it was because I stopped paying them(I'm the bill payer of the house) after the miscarriage. It is not that I didn't want to pay them; I literally did not even think to pay them. The thought did not register in my mind. I wish it had.
I've heard that calm seas do not make great sailors, but are these experiences really making me a great sailor? I just can't tell. There are days when I want to give up and days when I literally do not want to get up. I question on occasion how I continue on in this mess of a life I have for myself right now. When and how will things get better?
If the big man upstairs is testing me, I truly hope he is finished for now. I realize that I am having a tiny pity party and need to focus on what and who I have in my life, but at this very moment, it is not easy.
All in all, I'm blessed to have my family, friends, animals, house, vehicles and other things in my life. I have to focus on the positives and I will try my best.
If you're going through a hellacious time in your life right now, my heart is out to you. We will get through this I'm sure, we just cannot lose whatever faith we might have. May we start climbing over these mountains soon. Peace and blessings.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Someday
Someday our pain will be gone.
Someday our hearts will mend.
Someday the tears will stop.
I would like for someday to be today.
Someday is bound to come right?
Someday our hearts will mend.
Someday the tears will stop.
I would like for someday to be today.
Someday is bound to come right?
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