Mourning Out Loud

Statistics can kiss my ass

2011-11-21T22:51:00.000-08:00

I am so sick of statistics. Once you've been on the losing side of statistics they really don't mean much. People that have never (or hardly ever) been on the losing side take comfort in statistics. "The chances of x happening are only 0.1%" Oh phawoo, we don't have to worry then! But once you've been that slim chance, you just have this dreadful feeling deep down that that slim chance will most likely happen to you. Why wouldn't it? Bad things happen to good people.

It's getting a bit ridiculous now tho. For the most part I am lucky. My two kids are healthy (for the most part) and happy. We have made changes in our lives that will allow us to live more comfortably and with less stress. We have great family and friends that love and support us. Our lives are good.

But really? Seriously? For a while I'd like to just be on the good side. The side that doesn't involve dread and sick feelings when you hear the word "percentage" or "chance" or "don't worry". I want to hear a doctor say that it's most likely not x, and actually believe them. Not think "Ha, we'll prove them wrong now won't we?" I want the good luck. I'm sick of being rare, unlikely, 'the special case', the slim chance. I just want normal.

I was recently reading over the medical records I received for myself and the three kids. Recent health news caused me to pull them out again, searching for numbers, facts, notes. It all just made me mad. Well, maybe not mad (some stuff definitely made me mad) but more annoyed or frustrated. Every kid we have had has had at least one 'slim chance' happen to them. At least one. At least. And the oldest kid is only four! In four years we've had countless numbers of slim chances, special cases, unlikeliness. BAH!!!

I won't get into all the past rare-case, slim-chance, unlikely things we've had the misfortune to prove the doctors wrong on. I'm not complaining. I don't mean this as a whoa is me type of post. I know we're lucky. We are lucky to have two bundles of energy and joy in our lives. We are lucky to have money coming in, love in our lives, a roof over our heads. Even tho we've had all these misfortunes I wouldn't change much. It makes us who we are, who our kids are. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and all that. (although I do sort of hate that cliche right now, since one of the rare-cases did actually kill a little bean I love very much). I am merely venting since we've recently had yet another rare-case diagnosis.

This time it's Lexi. Or rather, this time it is Lexi again. As a baby she had silent reflux (like normal reflux only she never spat up, instead she swallowed it back down, burned on the way up and burned on the way down). Silent reflux is fairly rare; none of our regular doctors even knew what it was. We got a referral to our pediatrician who immediately recognized it as a milk-protein allergy (reflux+eczema+irritability+diarrhea). She outgrew this by the time she was about 15 months (whoo hoo!). Statistics say that 2-3% of babies in developed countries will have a milk-protein allergy. So she outgrew that around January 2011, becoming 'normal'; not one of the 2-3% of kids with a medical diagnosis. Phawoo. Then in the beginning of March she became constipated. A few medical professionals told us it may be a milk allergy or sensitivity (to which I replied "you bite your tongue!"). Nothing worked with the constipation. She's been on laxatives, in one dose or another, for the last 7 months, before that we tried dietary changes. Nothing has been working. Every couple of days she would be in immense pain as she tried to do one of the most basic bodily functions. It just was not right. Then lately we were slightly concerned about her size since she is very big for her age and has drastically moved up on the growth charts, not even staying on any sort of curve. Add to that the fact that she often will just lay down on the floor with her blankie. At first I thought she was just taking a break to snuggle with her most loved possession. Then I started thinking it may be a little odd. So off we went to the pediatrician.

Turns out the constipation, paired with the growth, paired with the fatigue triggered some red flags with our doctor and she sent Lexi for some blood work. After 3 vials of blood were taken and analyzed we have found out that Lexi has Acquired Hypothyroidism. So we're back to the rare case. Hypothyroidism affects about 3% of the general population. And of that the majority are older adults, it is fairly uncommon in children. So what does this mean for Lexi? It means daily medication. It means routine blood work to check her hormone levels. It means a very real possibility of a lifetime of medication and blood work. There is a chance that she could outgrow it in the next few years. It's unlikely, but there is a chance. Please let this be our rare, unlikely, slim chance. So far she's outgrown her silent reflux and her milk-protein allergy. Let's hope she does it again. Let's be on the winning side of the statistics. Please?

Happy Birthday Little Man

2011-11-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

Benjamin,

This is how it should be: You should be waking up tomorrow to find the bathroom mirror decorated with drawings of everything you love. You should be having pancakes, or french toast, or bacon and eggs, or Lucky Charms; whatever is your most favorite breakfast. You should be beaming with excitement as you pick your favorite outfit to wear on this day, your day, your special day. You should be planning out what we do today, thinking of all the most fun things you can imagine. We should be planning your birthday party, which would probably be on Saturday or Sunday instead so that we can spend this day, your day, as just a family doing whatever your little heart desires. We should have your favorite dinner and eat a cake that I slaved over to make perfect for you. You should be blowing out the candles and making a great big three year old wish. You should be eagerly ripping into the paper that is hiding the present that we picked out specially for you from a list I'm sure you would have told us. You should be getting extra hugs, cuddles and kisses on this day, your day. And it would have been an extra special day since this year all your numbers match. Today, your birthday, is 11/11/11. All number 1's. We would have played up on that big time.

But it will not be like that. There will be no special breakfast, who knows what would have been your favorite, you never got a chance to find out. There will be no favorite outfit, you never got to wear any clothes we bought for you. You are not here to tell us what is the most fun thing to do. You never got a chance to make any friends, so there will be no party. I cannot make you a cake, it's just too hard to make one without imagining what should be. There is no favorite dinner, no presents, no list of favorites. There is no you. And, baby boy, I am so sad about that. Three years have passed and this year is just as hard as every one before it. I miss you. I miss you so much. I don't want other people here on this day, your day. I want you here. I want to feel your weight. I want to kiss your sweet forehead, touch your beautiful dark hair. I want to tell you I love you. I want to just be with you, be happy with you. I want to hear you laugh. Hear you call me Mommy. See you smile and hold my hand. I want to know you as a three year old, not just have to imagine it.

I don't want to be sad on your birthday honeybun. I want to think of you with a smile. Think about how happy you made me, how much you changed me, all the good you have caused in this world. I don't want to be sad when I think about you. But this year I'm just sad. You are the missing piece of our family. The missing piece of my heart.

But I'll try to be happy. Your brother is so excited about your birthday. He was excited all week to give up the little treats we made for everyone to tell them about you. He is so excited to celebrate your birthday, to have your cake and blow out your candles. He knows who you are. He says he misses you and loves you. I don't think he really understands fully, but he knows how special you are. One day he'll fully understand. So will your baby sister. If I had my way every single person I meet will know who you are. And that makes me sad again. They shouldn't have to know of you, or know who you were. I so desperately want everyone to know you. Know the little three year old spitfire that I'm sure you would be.

I love you. I always will. Not a day goes by that you are not in my thoughts. Not a second goes by that you are not in my heart.

With more love than I ever thought possible,
Mommy

Random Acts of Kindness

2011-11-08T22:44:00.001-08:00

This Friday, November 11th 2011, should be Benjamin's third birthday. I cannot believe it has been three years since I held my beautiful baby boy for the first and last time. Three years. So much has changed in the last three years, but one thing has stayed constant; my love for him. Not a day goes by that I do not think about him. A while ago I was chatting with a friend and somehow the topic turned to Benjamin. My friend commented that every time I talk about him I subconsciously start playing with my necklace. Since her comment I have noticed that I do, in fact, do that. My necklace has become such an important part of me. Jackson and Lexi know that it is special to me and that it, somehow, is special to Benjamin. They both play with it a lot. It makes me happy that, even though they don't realize it, every time they touch my necklace they are connecting with Benjamin.

Anyways, that was off topic! Once again this year I am asking everyone to do a random act of kindness on Benjamin's birthday, in his honour. It can be a small act or a large act. An act toward someone you know or someone you don't know. It can be a monetary gesture or free kind gesture. I don't care what you do, as long as you somehow make another person's life a little easier or happier for even just a second. As long as you make someone smile in Benjamin's honour it will make this difficult day a little easier for my little family. The fact that we cannot see Benjamin's sweet little face break out into a giant smile as he celebrates his special day is hard for us. Not being able to watch him blow out the candles on his cake, a cake that he requested and I spent hours slaving over to make it perfect for him. Not being able to hear him squeal with delight over the present that we had agonized over before finally deciding on. Not being able to watch him run around the room hopped up on the excitement of being the center of attention for an entire day. Not being able to give him a giant squishy hug and kiss as his last night as a two year old and on the morning of his first day as a three year old. All these things make this day heartbreaking. But we are able to spend the day with moments of happiness as we get emails, texts or messages from friends and family who have done acts of kindness to others on Benjamin's birthday.

So all I ask is that you do an act of kindness to others this Friday. Then let me know what it was. I am keeping a list each year. This is the first year that I will share the list with Jackson. He 'gets it' this year. He understands who Benjamin was, what he means to all of us, that he has died and that we celebrate his birthday in his honour since we love and miss him. He understands that we are asking people to do things for other people to make them smile. That we are doing it for his baby brother.

Just a quick statistical blurb

2011-11-07T22:24:00.000-08:00

This really surprised me.

The year Benjamin was born there were 44,707 babies born in British Columbia. Of those 431 were stillborn (20+ weeks gestation); only 1% of pregnancies in BC in 2008 had such a tragic ending. Of these 431 stillborn babies, 127 were ‘late gestational losses’; babies that were stillborn at greater than 28 weeks. That means that Benjamin was one of only 0.3% of babies lost at this age. Point three. Seems small. But that is seven full kindergarten classes (average class size for 2010/11 was 18 kids per class). Seven full classes. Suddenly 0.3% doesn’t seem so small.

It amazes me now that people believe it will not happen to them; their baby will be born okay. And chances are good that that will be true. But now I know better. I can never be one of those wonderfully naive pregnant women. Because I know that to be one of the families who it does happen to is to live an unimaginable horror. You should never outlive your child. You should never hold your 6 pound, 3 ounce baby boy and know the only life he had was when he was cradled in your belly. People do not talk about Stillbirth; about babies dying. It is sad. Believe me, I know that. But the thing that is sadder is that no one wants to talk about it. My baby died. I will never get to be a proud mommy beaming at him over his accomplishments; hearing people tell me what a fantastic little boy he is. I never get to talk about him because to talk about him is to talk about a silent topic; a topic people would rather avoid. Most other bereaved parents I know want to talk about their babies. We want to be able to tell people how beautiful they were. How cherished they are. How loved they will be forever. We want to be able to include them in the ‘how many children do you have’ answer. Every time I have to say I have just two children a little piece of my heart breaks. It is true. I do only have two children. But I have had three babies. I have had three amazing little beings that take my breath away every time I think about them. Sadly only two of them are in my arms every day. But all three are in my heart every day.

Yes, it's been a while...

2011-10-24T23:43:00.001-07:00

I'm still here. Still in the same town. We didn't move. Instead my husband got a job miles away from us and commutes back and forth (and by that I mean he's home a few days here and there). So far it's been working out pretty well. We've been doing this for about 6 weeks now and I think we are finally finding our groove with it.

So I didn't have to worry about what to do about the Benjamin Boxes or the support group. I'm still doing both of them. As much as I did before anyway. The support group still meets somewhat regularly, but now we don't have our location (it was at our business) so we've met at local coffee shops. This is fine for the core group, but if we get new members it isn't exactly ideal.

Now onto my dilemma... Every year for Benjamin's birthday we ask everyone to do a Random Act of Kindness in his memory. We also designate the day a Family Day. We don't answer the phone, avoid email, and just spend the day together as a family. We do fun things and get a cake that we eat with our hands. It's a nice day; full of love and mostly happiness. Sounds nice right? Well this year Brian won't be home for it. He isn't able to get time off from his new job to come home. So this year it will just be me and the kids. I'm having a hard time with that. I'm trying to decide the best way to plan for this day. I've found in the past that it's the lead up to the actual day that is the hardest. Once the day is here it goes by fairly well (notice I did not say 'easily'), but the days/weeks leading up to it are full of apprehension for how the day will be. I worry that I will spend the day crying and wanting Brian there to help me remember Benjamin in a happy way. I worry that I will not be able to make the day a celebration of his short life but will instead be consumed with sadness over the life he did not get to live. I worry that I won't be able to keep it together alone for Jackson and Lexi. I've had friends offer to spend the day with us, or to take the kids for the day but I'm just not sure what I want. I don't want to be away from the kids that day; I don't want to be alone. I'm not sure if I want other people here. I don't know if I want to spend the day with people that didn't know him. But the only other people that knew him were Brian, my parents and my mother-in-law. And they don't live near here.

So I'm trying to decide if I want to just continue as we have in the past, only without Brian here. Or to totally shake things up and do something totally different. I'm debating having a small celebration. A birthday party of sorts. Like a playdate with cake. I would ask everyone to bring a baby item to donate (either to the food bank or to a local shelter). It would be a small affair with only people who honestly know who Benjamin was, not just know that he is part of my past. People who will help me celebrate his life and how much he changed our world.

Thoughts?

Holy Stress!!

2011-07-24T20:40:00.000-07:00

So, big changes are in store over in our little household. We are currently in the process of turning our lives upside down. What's going on, you ask? Well, let me tell you...

1. We are selling our business. We have owned our own business for the last 5 years but have now decided to sell it. The sale is almost finalized (phawoo!).

2. Our house is up for sale. Wish us luck that we are able to sell it in the time frame we need and for a price that isn't too depressing.

3. We are up and moving from British Columbia to Ontario. We used to live in Ontario but moved out west 6 years ago. We love it here but it just makes sense to move back to Ontario. Both sides of our family live there, houses are cheaper, cost of living is cheaper, etc. We'll miss our wonderful friends here and the gorgeous surroundings and climate, but we've got to do what is 'best' for our little family. (Trust me, this took some getting used to the idea!).

So what does all this mean for me in respect to Benjamin? Well, it's weird. I didn't think it would be all that hard. It's not like we buried him here or spread any ashes or anything. His ashes are still in a little box by our bed (apart from what is in my necklace). There is no specific place that I go to to think about him. No place in town that I overly associate with him. So, yeah, I thought it wouldn't be all that hard. I was wrong.

I was driving home from work one night shortly after we made all these decisions and just started bawling. Why is it that the tears come so freely when you are driving alone in the car? I started thinking about how excited we were when we started this business, how we had all these dreams and expectations of how the business would grow. And now it was ending (for us anyways). It was like a death of a child in a sense. We started this business roughly at the same time that I got pregnant with Jackson (okay, not 'roughly', it was basically the same month) so this business was like our first child. Sounds corny, yes, but on that night it just felt like I was going through another death of a loved one. And all it made me do was think about Benjamin.

That brought up all the issues that the move will create with Benjamin and his what I have done in his memory. The support group, the Benjamin Boxes, the friends here that have helped me through the dark days and helped me celebrate the good days. How can I just stop all of that? But how can I continue it in a province that he wasn't even born in? It just doesn't seem right. I've had a few weeks to figure some things out and here's what I've come up with.

The Support group - I have talked to the regular members and they have agreed to keep the group going. Currently it is held in the conference room at my business so they'll have to find a new location. But they are definitely continuing it so that makes me feel better.

Benjamin Boxes - I have made a few more and dropped them off. I will be putting together as many as I can before I move (oh yeah, this move will most likely be in September/October, lol!). My hope is that I can supply them with enough boxes to last at least the rest of the year (hopefully more). I have also talked to a few of the members of my support group and one of them may be willing to take over the boxes for me. When I get to Ontario I may look into offering them at the local hospital there but it depends on what services they already offer to bereaved families. I will still stay involved in Benjamin Boxes, but someone else will become the contact for them.

I have received many generous donations for Benjamin Boxes. The contents of the boxes are mainly donated so I have more money than I need for boxes at the moment. I wanted to donate something else to the room, besides just the boxes. I spoke with the social workers at the hospital and we came up with a donation that I am very pleased with. I will be donating a digital camera, printer, ink, photo paper, and SD cards. The idea is that the social workers will take photos of the babies and then print out one photo for the families to have immediately and be given an SD card with the rest of the images so that they can print off more photos if they wish. The social workers will also be able to allow the families to use the camera while they are there to capture any images they want. Currently the babies are photographed by Media Services and the families are given one photo. The families also have the option of having Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep (volunteer organization that takes beautiful professional photos, like all the photos I have on this site). But by giving the families a camera they are free to take any photos they wish. For instance, I wish I had full body shots of Benjamin undressed. I hate that I can't remember every inch of his body. I can't remember what his thighs looked like, what his belly looked like, his little baby bum, etc. I want other families to have the option to 'remember' every spot on their little ones. I have already purchased the printer and we have lots of paper from our business. Now I have to decide on a camera.

As for my friends that have helped me through this? I will keep this site going (ha, not hard at the rate I've been posting!) and every year I will continue to do a Random Act of Kindness Day in Benjamin's memory. I may be thousands of kilometers away, but what's a couple kilometers among friends when you've got access to the internet?

One thing I have a bit of a hard time about is that this house, this town, this city are where I was pregnant with Benjamin. Where all of our dreams for him were born. Where we looked with excitement and joy on his upcoming birth. It's also where we found out he had died and had to come to terms with that. But it's also where he was born. Where we first got to see him, hold him, kiss him. When we move I won't have any physical reminders of him. I won't pass by the field that was ablaze with daisies when I was pregnant with him. I won't see my friend whose daughter is almost the exact age as Benjamin should be. I won't go to the hospital where he was born. I won't see people who knew him, who held him and touched him and know how beautiful and perfect he was. When I move any friends I make will only know of him as a distant memory. Something that happened to me long before they knew me. He'll just be an idea. Here they saw him growing in my belly, saw my ultrasound photos, held my hand and comforted me when he was born, marveled at how perfect he was in his photos, and they were there to cry with me over the unfairness of his death. They knew him. And even though he wasn't born alive he lives on in each of them. It'll be impossible to get that with a new group of friends. People who haven't lost a baby just don't understand. They usually think that it is something that time heals. I had a baby but he died before birth, three years ago. Three years is a long time. And I've had another child since. Therefore I must be okay. It must not hurt my heart still. After all, I have the millionaires family. I have my boy and girl. Why would my heart hurt?

So that's what's new with me...

Autopsy report

2011-03-10T18:13:00.000-08:00

I requested all my hospital records for all three births. I also requested all the records for all three babies. Including the autopsy report for Benjamin. I just wanted some answers I had surrounding all three labour, deliveries, and hospital stays. I got them last week.

So now I have all the answers I will ever have regarding Benjamin's birth and death. I have the clinical reason for his death. I have details on his body. I have everything. And yet I have less. I now know his eyes were brown (he was born with them closed). I now know he died from "fetal thrombotic vasculopathy, the thrombus in the umbilical vein, and the pulmonary thromboembolic infarction of the right lower lobe of the lung". (yes, I have googled those).

BUT the report could not figure out how 'old' he was! Going by my original due date (the one I always believed to be true) he was born at 36 weeks, 6 days. Going by my adjusted due date from an ultrasound at 10 weeks he was born at 34 weeks, 6 days. Okay. So he was either almost 35 weeks or almost 37 weeks. I can live with that discrepancy. Then when he was born based on his weight and length they concluded that the original due date was correct and he was 36w6d.

Okay, a firm answer... Not so much. Based on findings from the autopsy report his weight was consistent with 38-39 weeks. His lengths (bone lengths, crown to heel and crown to rump lengths) he was consistent with 38-40 weeks. Based on his head circumference he was 40 weeks (but my kids have big noggins, so I'm not putting much weight in that one). But then his foot length indicated 36 weeks. Okay. So going by his body sizes he was anywhere from 36-40 weeks. Okay, those can't be all that accurate, so we'll stick with the 36w6d gestational age and just assume he was going to be a big baby.

BUT then the 'placental weight' indicated 33-34 weeks gestation. WTH?? How can the placental 'age' be 33-34 weeks, but the baby be 36-40 weeks? How can they not know how old he was? And not just by a few days, or even a few weeks, but by five to seven weeks?? That's almost two months!

The report actually states "In addition, there is a discrepancy between body measurements which correspond to a later gestation of 38-39 weeks gestation, and the placental weight, which corresponds to 33-34 weeks gestation." So they state this, but give no indication if this means anything. Does this have anything to do with his death? Can the fact that he was 'older' than the placenta mean that something was wrong and his body was working too hard? Could that have somehow caused the blood clots? If I had gone for more monitoring would they have seen this 'discrepancy' and been able to do something? If they'd seen that he was measuring 5-6 weeks bigger than they believed him to be would they have intervened somehow? Could he have been saved?

See, I have less. Now I am just confused. And, I'll be honest, a tad angry. Not at anyone in particular; no one could have known that he was going to die. No one could have known that he was growing so big. Just angry though. Angry that my baby had to have an autopsy. Angry that someone else knows his body better than me. Angry that he was taken apart and put back together again. Angry that there is that small smidgen of possibility that all of this could have been avoided. Just angry.

Daisy

2011-03-03T18:08:00.000-08:00

I was at a discussion group the other day where about a dozen parents were sitting around waiting for a guest speaker to start. We had just done introductions and one lady introduced herself and told us that she was 36 weeks pregnant. I asked her if she knew whether she was having a boy or a girl. She answered that she did not and hadn't known with her first child either, but she had just known that the baby was a girl. I asked if she had any feelings about this baby. She replied that she did not, but that her daughter was absolutely convinced it was going to be a girl. She even had decided on a name. I asked what the name was. She replied "Daisy".

She must now think I'm a moron. I had been just chatting away with her all friendly and intersted in her life but as soon as she said this I immediately looked away and avoided eye contact with her for the next 15 minutes for fear of bursting into tears. A little hard to avoid eye contact since she was the guest speaker.

For Jen and Catrina

2010-11-20T21:53:00.001-08:00

This is the infamous painting I was talking about.

There is this painting in Room 7 of the hospital. Room 7 is the room that all families who have had, or are having, stillbirth babies are put. This painting is many things. Confusing is the main one. There were many times during my hospital stay that I would talk with whoever was with me and we would try to figure out what the hell the painting meant. I never did figure it out.

So enjoy!In case you can't read the title, it is "Flower of Tulips". What the hell does 'flower of tulips even mean??? That was our main dilemma, I mean the picture itself is okay, in a flea market art kind of way. And really, what kind of picture is appropriate for a room where all your dreams have just shattered? But 'flower of tulips'? Really? Any ideas on this?

Happy Birthday sweet baby boy

2010-11-11T10:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Benjamin,

We love you and miss you today, as always, Benjamin. The years may pass but the love we feel for you never lessens.

I try to imagine you as a two year old. You should be running around by now, talking, yelling, being a rambunctious two year old. I wonder what you would look like. When I am able to imagine an image of you it is always the same. You have dark curly hair. You have beautiful full lips. You are a tall solid kid, full of energy. Your voice is soft and sweet. I can almost imagine hearing you call me mommy. But it's hard. I have to really force myself to imagine you at two. When I think of you, all I can picture is a perfect little newborn. With dark curly hair, dark full lips, and a solid weight in my arms. Oh how I wish I could feel you in my arms again. To feel your little body filling my arms, to kiss your forehead, touch your hair.

I miss you in a way I wish I didn't know. I wish I didn't know the pain of having a hole in my heart. The pain I still feel when someone asks me how many children I have. The pain when someone comments on how perfect my family is, what with a boy and a girl. The sadness I feel when I see another two year old and realize they are almost the exact same age as you should be. The sadness I feel when I know Jackson and Lexi will never know you. They will know of you, but it's not the same. You will just be a person from the past to them, the brother they never really had. That hurts. So much. I so desperately want you to grow up with them. To learn things from Jackson, to teach things to Lexi. That is just unfair. Why did it have to be you, little man? Why did you have to die? Why you??

That's all for now. I refuse to let your birthday be one of sadness. Two years ago today you were born. I got to embrace you in my arms. Your daddy, gramma, papa and nana got to hold you. Two years ago you were a real baby, for the whole world to see, not just my own special baby for me to feel and know.

Your short life has changed the world, Benjamin. People all over Canada and the States are doing nice things today in your memory. People are smiling today because of you.

And I am smiling today because of you. I smile every day because of you. Yes, I cry still too, but mostly I smile. I smile because I cannot help smiling, the love just gets the best of me. Even though I truly do wish you were here today with us, I know that even in death you are always with us. So tonight when we are blowing out your candles and eating your birthday cake I would like to believe that you are smiling too.

I love you so much sweet boy. I always will.
Love,
Mommy

Benjamin's Second Birthday

2010-11-08T12:16:00.000-08:00

This Thursday, November 11th, should be Benjamin's 2nd birthday. Last year I asked everyone to do a Random Act of Kindness in his memory and then to let me know what you had done. The response I got was incredible.

November 11th is a bittersweet day for our family. We finally got to hold our sweet baby in our arms, but it was also the day that any hope we had that the doctors were wrong was gone. To know that people all over the country (both Canada and the US) were doing nice things in his memory helped to make the day a happier one. We were able to focus more on the influence that Benjamin's short life had, and continues to have, on the world. This year is a little different as Jackson is now old enough to understand who Benjamin was and what he means to us. I have talked to Jackson about Benjamin and that sometimes babies die. It has been rough talking about it, but also very sweet to hear a 3 year olds take on the subject. This year we are baking cookies to hand out to people in the next few days explaining who Benjamin was and asking them to do a Random Act of Kindness too. Jackson will be helping me to ice the cookies and will help me hand them out. I want him to know that even though he never had the chance to meet his brother, he still has a brother, if only in the hearts of all those who love him.

So, I am again asking everyone to do something to make the world a little happier on Benjamin's birthday. It doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to cost money. As long as you make someone else smile that is all I ask. I can't see my sweet two year old's face light up in smile, so just to know that other people are smiling on his birthday, becasue of him, then I'd like to think that his life made a happy impact on the world. And that has to be enough for me. Please post in the comments section to let me know what you have done. Last year I saved the list of acts that were done. I hope to do this for many many years and one day I will be able to share with Benjamin's siblings how their brother's life changed the world.

Last year some things that were done were (among many more):
- Washed a neighbours windows
- Baked cookies and muffins for a co-worker
- Brought neighours, co-workers, or kids timbits and coffee
- Donated baby items to the food bank
- Made family a priority

Thank you in advance. If you can't do anything then just knowing that he is being thought of that day is still very meaningful.

Infant Loss Remembrance Day

2010-10-15T13:32:00.000-07:00

No time for a long post today (or any day for that matter lately!).

Today is Infant Loss Remembrance Day. A day to think about all the babies who were taken too soon. A day to remember them and realize how much they touched our lives in their short time with us. A day to think about those mothers and fathers who have missed out on so much with their little ones. A day for those of us that have lost our sweet babies to spend some time openly loving them and missing them. A day for those of you who know us to grieve with us and let us know that even though our little ones are not with us you still think about them.

As my life gets more hectic with a preschooler and toddler I find that I do not have as much free time to devote to this blog, the support boxes, or just thinking about Benjamin. But when I do sit down and think about him it still tears my heart apart. I think about what I don't get to do with him. I think about all the lost memories with him. I think about what he would be like now as his 2nd birthday approaches. I think about how I don't remember him as well as I used to. I think about how active he used to be in my belly, especially when I was sewing for him. I think about how perfect his feet were. I think about how much I love him, even without watching him breathing and living. I think about him as only a mother can.

I love you Benjamin. I miss you.

Terrified of death

2010-08-17T22:25:00.001-07:00

I'm assuming it's normal that since I've lost a child I am terrified of losing another one. I know the pain firsthand. But how do you shake that constant nagging fear in the back of your head? How do you not read a story of a baby or child dying and immediately feel that all consuming fear of the exact same thing happening to your child? I realize it's irrational. I realize the chances of Lexi or Jackson dying is minimal. I know more kids live than die. But I've been there. I've been that rare statistic.

A few months ago I got an email about an almost-three year old boy in England that was abducted by two 10 year old boys and then tortured and murdered. The story sickened me and affected me so much that every time I think about it I cry. I just imagine that little boy being Jackson and him being so excited that these older boys want to play with him that he'd go with them. Then to have all of that horror happen to him? Just leaves me with such a heavy feeling around my heart. That poor boy and that poor family. Even though I know that cases like that are incredibly rare it still makes me so fearful that something like that could happen to Jackson. Not to the point of wanting to put him in a bubble or never leave the house, but just fearful enough that my heart skips a beat whenever I hear of children dying.

Then today a friend of mine posted that a friend of hers lost her one year old daughter. She choked on a piece of an apple she found while crawling on the kitchen floor. Something so random and her beautiful daughter is now gone. Just breaks my heart. And of course my mind soon went to the fact that soon Lexi will be crawling and getting all the random stuff on the floor (crumbs, cat food, small toys, coins, etc). I know that we will child proof the house and there won't be stuff that she can choke on just lying around, but with a 3 year old you never know what you will find at any time. I'm sure my friend's friend also child proofed their house. You just can't always be on top of everything. And look what can happen.

How do you deal with this? How do you block out all the fears? How do you read stories of babies and children dying and not immediately internalize it? I know one solution is just not to read the stories, but I cannot do that. A big part of me wants to read them because I feel that the more people that read them then the more people that this too-short life has touched. If I can be a little more cautious with Jackson, or be more mindful of stuff on the floor with Lexi then it makes the other losses a teeny tiny bit less tragic (okay, not really, but you know what I'm saying). But every story makes me bawl and then stirs up all those fears. Is this normal?

Congratulations C&L!!

2010-06-22T20:26:00.001-07:00

I know that I've mentioned that I co-founded a support group in town for bereaved parents (specifically stillbirth and infant loss). The turnout for the group has been surprisingly minimal, but there are a core group of about 5 of us that attend the meetings and keep in touch. It's interesting because of the 5 of us we have one mom who lost her baby girl at 19 weeks, another who lost her baby boy very shortly after birth, another who's son died a few weeks after birth, another who lost her baby girl at term, and then me. There have been many meetings where it is just the other full-term loss mom there with me. We've talked a lot about our loss, but also about our hopes for the future and our day to day lives. I feel a real connection and bond to this woman.

So I could not have been happier when she told me that she had started the process to adopt a baby who was to be born in June (this was back a few months ago). It was not something that she told many people because they were, understandably, scared that the adoption wouldn't work out and they'd have to face another loss. We talked a lot about how a new baby changes your life after you have lost a baby. I told her the different emotions I went through when I was pregnant with Lexi, and then when I gave birth to her. I told her the conflicting emotions I felt when I had that first ultrasound that told me that this new little bean I was carrying was a girl, not a boy. The confusion, heartache, and excitement that created. It was as if in that second Benjamin died again, I could no longer pretend that I was carrying him again and he was getting that second chance to live. Now I was carrying a brand new baby. That was exciting but also heartbreaking. When my friend went with the birth mom to the ultrasound and they were told that the baby was a boy my friend later told me that she was better prepared because she remembered what I had told her about my experience. I'm glad I was able to help. You never know how much something can affect you until you live it.

On June 10th I got the email that I had been excitedly waiting for. My friend's new son was born!! You could feel the joy and love just coming off the computer screen through her email. I could not be happier for her and her husband as they welcome this little baby into their lives and hearts. I have only known her since her daughter was born last September and I can't wait to see her happy and holding this new little love of her life. I'm sure her daughter would be proud of the mommy that C gets to be to this baby. She's been a mommy for almost a year now, but now she gets to show the world outright the wonderful mom that she is.

Congratulations C&L. Both little K's could not have better parents.

19 months

2010-06-09T15:02:00.000-07:00

Benjamin should be 19 months in two days. He would now be older than Jackson was when Benjamin was born. I remember how old Jackson seemed to me at that time. Barely a toddler anymore, more a boy. An older brother. How can it be that my sweet baby Benjamin should not be a baby anymore? He should be able to talk, run, jump, throw temper tantrums. He should be able to chase Jackson around and have matches to see who can yell the loudest. He should be here to help Jackson look after their baby sister. He should be Lexi's other proud older brother who is so excited for her to be able to play with him. The three of them should be our terrible trio; the three wonders who make us so happy to be parents and naively believe that parents do not outlive their children.

I love all my children. Some days I honestly believe that Lexi has, in a way, replaced Benjamin. Whenever I think that it makes me sad. I don't post on here very often because it makes me wonder if I am a decent mom to Benjamin. Do I mourn him to the extent that I should? Have I now had my 'rainbow baby' and thus pushed him to the back of my mind? Was he just a brief period in my life? One that is now overshadowed by the yummy baby in my arms?

I talked to a friend yesterday who has a friend that lost a baby at 3 days old. His birth and anniversary of his death are next week. Every year this friend sends a card to the family, to let them know that she still thinks about their son every year. While I talked with her I surprised myself because I found myself thinking that this woman who has lost her 3 day old baby has more of a rite to mourn her son than I do. He was born alive and then died. Why am I always stuck on this? Why do I think that just because Benjamin was not born alive then I don't have the rite to mourn him? I know that his death was the saddest day of my life. I know that I have a rite to mourn. I do, I know all of this. But I suppose since I never saw him alive then I have, in some way, convinced myself that he was never mine to start with. Does that make sense? Not really. I 'knew' him while he was safely tucked away inside me. I knew him as only a mother can. And yet, I don't feel I am 'allowed' to mourn him as I would a baby who was born alive. In the back of my mind I question whether I really feel that I lost a baby, and not 'just' lost a pregnancy. And trust me when I say that that belief pisses me off when other people have it! I know he was a baby, he was a big baby, he was perfect in every way (other than that pesky living part, yes I use dark humour to cope). I think a lot of it is societal. People don't talk about stillbirths. No one wants to acknowledge the horror that they are. And so we parents are left to wonder where our grief falls. Is it a 'true' loss, or is it mostly just the loss of what should have been?

I don't know.

But I do know that I am truely missing what should have been; my second born son who DID exist and should look similar to this right now...

(Jackson at 19 months)

What to say...

2010-05-18T20:59:00.000-07:00

I'm at a loss as to what to write about on this blog lately. I think that may be obvious by the lack of updates on here. Life is busy around our house and I barely have time to respond to emails, let alone come up with an entire blog post. Plus I know that if I routinely take time to post on here then I risk opening up old wounds.

And I know that's stupid. I know those 'wounds' have never healed and will never heal. But it's nice to have some days of sweet ignorance. Ignorance that I am not the mommy I was before Benjamin. Because as much as I love being his mom and having had him in my life, some days it feels easier to pretend that I am the mommy of two living children. And that's it. Yes, when I think about it (and especially when I actually write it down) it seems horrible. Horrible to say that I want to pretend my sweet baby boy never existed. But really, that's not what I am saying. Or is it? I don't know any more.

It's been 18 months since Benjamin was born. He would now be the same age as Jackson was when we had Benjamin, actually about a month older. When I realized that it sort of took my breath away. I feel like it was just a few months ago that my life changed so drastically. But it was a year and a half. A whole year and a half. That is just insane. And I remember thinking that Jackson was such a big kid then. Not a little toddler anymore, but a full out boy. I look back at photos from then and he still had the chubby little features of a toddler, but in my mind he was my oldest son, so he was a boy already. Now to think that Benjamin should be that age too just makes me sad. So I shut it out. Move on to something else.

But what is that doing? Am I not dealing with my grief? Have I dealt with my grief enough by now that I don't need to think about these things? Is Benjamin in his special place in my heart and my mind where I can think fleeting thoughts about him and not feel a pang of sadness or guilt. Are thoughts of him safe there? Every once in a while I have a moment where I get sad thinking about him, but for the most part he is just a reality to me. He is my 'stillborn son'. So clinical, so unfeeling. At least to those that don't know. A lot of people hear the word 'stillborn' and think along the same lines as 'miscarriage'. It was a sad loss, but not something that should really affect your life that drastically. It's not like your child died in your arms or something. Nothing to be saddened about for years following. Oh how misguided those people are. Benjamin did not die in my arms. I did not watch him die. To have watched him die would mean that I also watched him live. Sadly I did not get that joy. The closest I got to watching him live was the grainy distorted ultrasound image, or the way he'd make my belly contort and lurch. I didn't get to see his chest rise and fall in sweet baby slumber. I didn't get to see his chubby little baby fists jerking into the air as he startled over a tiny noise. I didn't get to see his eyelids flutter as he dreamed. I didn't get to see his toes wiggling as he belted out a baby goat cry. I suppose it's a good thing that I didn't have to watch him die. But to have watched him die would have meant that I got to watch him live. And some days I so wish I could have had both. To have known the moment that he died. To have been able to know that he was dying and give him a proper goodbye. To have kissed his warm forehead.

And that is all for today.

I'm going to be in the news

2010-04-19T15:44:00.001-07:00

LOL, It's just our local free paper. But it is going to be an article about Benjamin Boxes and our support group. It also has a lot of information about my 'story'. I'm kind of excited about it. I'm interested to see how many people it brings to the Benjamin Boxes site and if it brings in any donations.

I am mostly excited just to get more awareness out there about stillbirth. It just blows my mind that it is such a silent topic. Everyone knows that it happens; everyone knows someone that has lost a baby. But NO ONE talks about it. No one wants to be depressing and morbid and talk about dead babies. But what does that ultimately do? It causes people to feel alone. Let's be blunt here. That's just fucked up. At a time when a person needs all the support they can get. All the caring, compassion and understanding. And yet people do not bring it up. Don't talk about her baby. You might upset her. She seems to be doing so well. Look at her smiling. She must have gotten over her loss. I mean, it's not like she lost a child or anything. The baby never even lived outside her. So shhhh, don't talk about it. She might cry again. Then what would we do? We'd have to listen to her talk about her dead fetus again.

I'm not saying anyone has said any of this to me. But I have heard from other people that similar things have been said to them. It just disgusts me. Absolutley disgusts me. Plus in all honesty, when I bring up Benjamin to some people I can see their eyes glaze over and I'm sure they are thinking similar thoughts.

So I say tell anyone you want about your baby. Who the hell cares if they don't want to hear about it. Who the hell cares if you make them uncomfortable. God forbid they have to hear about the pain and heartache that losing a baby causes. At least they don't have to live it. They can just walk away from the conversation and think of you as the crazy woman who won't just 'get over their dead baby'. But at least you get to talk about your baby. And sometimes that can make you feel so much better.

It's been a while

2010-04-06T11:59:00.000-07:00

Other than the quick photo I posted for Easter it has been FOREVER since I updated this blog. It seems as though I have no time anymore for anything. I know I've taken on a lot of 'projects' and stuff in the last few months, but honestly it's more that I am just getting run down.

First off, I am by NO means complaining about my life. Apart from the obvious, I love the way my life is turning out. I have a wonderful husband who loves and respects me (and vise versa). I have a fun loving almost-three-year-old who makes me smile numerous times a day. And now I have a sweet little bundle of goodness who is discovering more about the world everyday, and reminding me of how 'right' things can be.

BUT I would just like a little more sleep. When Benjamin was born I remember getting so angry at people who had newborns who would complain about their lack of sleep because the baby was up all night. I remember thinking I would give anything to have sleepless nights holding my nursing baby. I remember thinking that I would gladly be up in the wee hours of the morning trying to calm a screaming baby. And so I have a lot of guilt.

I feel guilty when Lexi is up numerous times a night and I am annoyed with her. I just want her to sleep! But then I think about all the other moms out there who wanted nothing more than to hold their living, breathing, screaming babies, myself included, and I feel a little pang of guilt and disgust with myself. I should be cherishing every moment with her; good and bad. She is all I hoped for in the months following Benjamin's birth. So shouldn't I just be happy?

It's hard to come to terms with everything. Some days it hits me that I don't think about Benjamin as much; don't ache for him like I used to. I know it's normal, I know it's the passage of time. But I feel like I am moving on. Away from him. I don't want him to be a distant memory. Something that happened a long time ago. Someone who was here and then he wasn't. I want him to still be a strong presence in my life. If not physically, then at least emotionally. In a way I miss those days that I would think about him and be reduced to a sobbing mess. At least then I knew how much I missed and loved him. Now when I think about him it barely affects me. It's like I have put him in this little compartment in my mind and my heart and he is safe there. Safe in the memory of what he was and what he should have been. Safe but never forgotten. But is that healthy? Has having Lexi done the unthinkable? Has she replaced him in my mind and my heart? Deep down I know that's not possible and not true. But some days I wonder if I did both of them an injustice by having her so close to him.

I have a friend who I've been hanging out with a lot lately. She has a son close to Jackson's age and they are best friends. She also has another son. A son who was born about 2 weeks before Benjamin was born. We didn't know each other back then so her son has never really reminded me of how old Benjamin should be. This weekend they came over to my house for an Easter party and I mentioned to Brian beforehand that her son is the same age as Benjamin would be. During the party I saw Brian really watching him and I asked him if he was thinking about Benjamin. He said he was and that it was hard for him. It only started affecting me the last few times we've been over to her house. Her son is getting more vocal now and being a typical 17 month old. Jackson is becoming more comfortable with him and starting to treat him more like a little brother. That is hard to see. It's hard to see this little bundle of energy and not think about who is missing in our life. How our life is different than it should be. What Jackson is missing out on. I find I can't get close to my friend's son. I want to because he really is a sweet little boy, but some times it's just hard. I've never talked to her about it, I'm not even sure she's put it together that Benjamin would be the same age. I don't want it to be awkward. I'll just continue trying to ignore that elephant in the room.

I was on another blog a few days ago and the author was talking about how they almost seek out opportunities to talk about their son who has died. I totally get that. In some ways it's like a wound that you just feel this urge to constantly pick at and in other ways it's more of a desire to scream to the world that babies do die and everyone needs to stop being so bloody blind to that fact. I find that I am constantly wanting to tell people about Benjamin. I know a big part of it is just that by talking about him I get to be his mom, I get to get his memory out there. But there are less and less opportunities to talk about him. Less times when it casually comes up. I don't want to be that crazy lady who talks about her dead son everytime someone says hello. If I could do that some days I would.

Two years ago I had just found out I was pregnant with Benjamin. Two years ago I was blissfully naive. It never occurred to me that in just 8 months my life would take such a turn. Two years ago his short life had just begun.

So I just hit 'publish post' and had gone on about my day, reading some other blogs. And then the tears started. Shit. I guess this is how it is. You think you are fine, you've put things in their neat compartments, you wonder if you aren't feeling enough. And then some random comment on another blog, by another person, sends you for a tailspin. It was this post (http://wednesdayswithmalou.wordpress.com/). Specifically the part about how she wishes that she had touched and kissed every single part of her daughter.

That is the one thing that haunts me. The one thing that I can't bear to think about without getting that lump in my throat and the burn in the eyes. When Benjamin was born they laid him down in front of me (to this day I have no idea where he was laid. Was it on my lap? Between my legs? On my belly? On the bed? On a table? I have no idea). We were able to see his entire body, naked. I was trying to see him through the freely flowing tears but all I could focus on was his beautiful face and curly dark hair. After a few minutes they took him to the side of the room to weigh, measure and clean him up a bit. Then they wrapped him up and brought him back to us. That was the only time I saw him naked. After that he was always wrapped in blankets. Except when Heather came to take photos and she unwrapped him. Then I got to see his perfect little feet. But I never got to see the rest of him. It breaks my heart that I don't know what his legs looked like, his belly, his baby butt, his bits. I don't know if he had any birthmarks. I don't know if he had long legs or knobby knees. I don't know what he looked like. A mother should know those things. All I remember of his body is that he was bruised and skin was peeling. I don't want that to be all I know of his body. A mother should not know that.

So I guess this is the moment I was just writing about. I guess I got what I wished for since now I am a sobbing mess thinking about him. And as horrible as it feels, it does also feel a little good. If you've been here, you understand.

Happy Easter!

2010-04-03T22:54:00.000-07:00

Is there a book in here?

2010-03-12T09:07:00.000-08:00

I went to a Woman's Wellness Show a few weeks ago. There were a bunch of tables and booths set up with various types of businesses. Mostly they were massage therapists, jewelery vendors, and different home party consultants. But way back in a corner was a publishing company. It was odd because she didn't really fit in with the rest of the businesses. I stopped and chatted with her for a few minutes. I asked her what is involved in having a book published and she went over the basics of it. She asked me if I had a book in mind and I told her that I did, and I even had most of it already written out. She gave me her card and suggested I come in to meet with her. She'll see what I have done already and guide me where to go from here.

I haven't done that yet. I am still unsure of whether to try to publish my memoir or not. I want to publish because I know there are not enough books on stillbirth; especially ones that tell the whole story rather than just snippets. The majority of books on stillbirth and infant loss either deal with the clinical side of it or are very religious. I just want to tell my story. I don't want to delve into the statistics and the medical backgrounds of stillbirth. I just want people to know about Benjamin and how his life (and death) changed my world. I want to have a book out there that might help other people know that they are not alone; to let people know how one mother coped with the devastation.

But the process seems so daunting. So much work. Let's face it, I have a lot on my plate right now. To focus on publishing my story just seems like one more thing that I'll only be able to partially focus on. If I'm going to actually go through the process of publishing Benjamin's story I want it done right.

So maybe I'll meet with this publishing lady. Maybe I'll see what is involved. Or maybe I'll just keep dreaming about the 'some day'. Some day when I have more time. Some day when I am not exhausted. Some day when I don't have eight million other things on the go. Some day I'll publish this story.

What's with the weird comments

2010-02-22T15:02:00.000-08:00

So I posted about the 'abortion thing' a few days ago. Then on Thursday there was the following conversation at the doctors office. Here's the background: I was at the doctor's office with Lexi. She has some sort of reflux/gut/sleeping/screeching issues and we are trying to get it sorted out. I was called up to the receptionist to check in (let me add that I love this receptionist, she is fantastic at her job and very down to earth when you call in with questions or concerns; gives her opinion as a mother and then as a doctor's office employee).

Receptionist: Hi Rachel, are you here for you or for baby?
Me: For baby.
Receptionist: (looking at my file) And that's for Baby Ben?
Me: (shocked) Ummm... Nooooo....
Receptionist: No? Not for Baby Ben? (clearly confused)
Me: Noooo..... (waiting for her to realize her immense error)
Receptionist: (just looks at me confused)
Me: Benjamin was my baby that was stillborn last year.
Receptionist: Oh God! Oh, I'm so sorry (hand on her heart)!!
Me: Don't worry about it, it's okay. This appointment is for Lexi.
Receptionist: (clearly still very upset about her error) Oh, why do they still have that on the file?!
Me: Really, it's okay.

Sooo... What to say about this exchange... Firstly it was a shot to the heart. Made me sad and sick at the same time as happy and tricky feeling. That's hard to explain. It's like when my friend lost her baby and I accidentally used her baby's name in place of her toddler's name in an email asking how her toddler was (days after her baby had died). When she pointed out my error I felt horrible but she replied with "It's okay, it was kind of nice because no one will ever ask me how she is". I get that. By the receptionist asking me if the appointment was for Benjamin I got to, just for a minute, feel like I was his mom; doing something so mundane for him as taking him to the doctor's office. I will never get to do that, but for just a split second it was like that is what I was doing. I also felt tricky because I could feel her confusion but didn't want to right away explain it away. Don't get me wrong, I really do like this woman and it bothers me how much I know she has stewed about it ever since, but I deal with the confusion, the despair, the somethings-not-right-in-the-world every day since losing Benjamin. So for once it wasn't me feeling that way over him. And of course I felt sad and sick because the truth was that it was not an appointment for Benjamin. He will never have a mundane doctor's appointment. He'll never have the entire waiting room smiling at his cute little baby coos and squeals. He will never make a teenage boy uncomfortable by staring at him and making silly noises and faces trying to get his attention. He will never attack the doctor's hand with his slobbery mouth when he is trying to do his assessment. He will never feel the cold paper of the exam table and the utter giddiness as another person tickles his belly and remarks on his chubby little legs. He won't get any of that. And that makes me sad.

But just for that split second I was able to imagine that he was my living baby. Bringing him to a doctor's appointment, concerned about his health and wanting to make him better. Just for that split second that was an option; that making him better. Just for a split second. And since that's all I get, I'll take it when I can.

You have to read this

2010-02-16T20:32:00.000-08:00

I was looking for relevant quotes for stillbirth and infant loss today. In my search I came across this blog and started reading it a bit. It's written by a woman, Lauren, who gave birth to her son, Jonathan, 4 months ago. Her son was born with T13 and lived for 40 minutes. In this post (http://jonathansbabyjournal.blogspot.com/2010/02/more-about-last-weeks-opportunity.html) she talks about a build-a-bear teddy that was given to her by a nurse. For Christmas her husband added a recording of Jonathan's heart beat into the bears chest and a recording of their daughter saying "I love you Jonathan! I miss you!" into the bear's hand. There are no words to describe how special this bear must be to Lauren. Part of me is so jealous that she has this. So envious. It pains me that I don't have anything like this of Benjamin. Sure I have his photos and things that he physically touched. But to have a reminder of him alive would be such a treasure. When I was pregnant with Lexi I recorded her heartbeat so that I could share it with family and friends. Part of me knew that I was also doing it 'just in case'. I also wanted so desperately to go to one of those 3D ultrasound places so that I could get a video of her ultrasound. But it was expensive and I felt like that would be putting too much belief in her not being born alive. Like that would be jinxing things. Silly.

But to have that bear with Benjamin's heart beat...

Odd, disturbing conversation

2010-02-15T08:32:00.000-08:00

Last week I was in Wendy's for lunch with the kids. The cashier was fawning over Lexi. Then she mentions to me that she is pregnant. Here's the conversation:

Me: Congratulations, when are you due?
Her: June.
Me: Is this your first baby?
Her: (laughing) Yes, I'm only 18.
Me: Oh (thinking, so?)
Her: Yeah, I just couldn't do the whole abortion thing.
Me: Um... Good for you.

What the hell else do you say to that???? What a stupid thing to say. "The whole abortion thing". Like it's some cool trend that all the other kids are doing, but she just wasn't in to it. So instead she's just going to go through with it and have the baby. I wanted so badly to ask her if she was going to put the baby out for adoption or ruin her life by keeping it (I only say 'ruin her life' because that's the impression she gave). I really hope she looked into adoption since I believe any person that makes the statement "I just couldn't do the whole abortion thing" should have really researched her options before deciding she is the best mother for that baby.

I am not anti-abortion, anti-teenmom, or bitter (okay, maybe a bit bitter). It just pissed me off that she would say that. She doesn't know me. I'd never seen her before in my life and yet she felt it was acceptable to make such a stupid statement to me. Like she felt she deserved some sort of pat on the back for continuing the pregnancy. And you just know she'll end up having a healthy baby, born at term with no issues at all. And then she'll raise this baby, making sure everyone knows that this is NOT the way she wants her life to be. I just hope at some point in the next 4 months she figures out how lucky she is to be having a baby and when that little girl is born she will instantly fall in love with her and realize how lucky she is to be a mom. And then she'll think back to when she told that stranger in Wendy's that she just couldn't 'do that whole abortion thing' and be embarrassed by her immature statement.

Makes it all worth it.

2010-02-08T14:18:00.000-08:00

I received an email last week from a woman that received a Benjamin Box. It was the first contact I'd had with someone that actually was given a box. I know there have been many boxes given to families, but this was the first time someone has contacted me. She shared a bit about her son and told me how much she appreciated the box. I cannot begin to tell you how that made me feel. It made all the work I've put into this project totally worth it. It made it real. These boxes really are making a difference. Benjamin's short life has helped to make someone else's pain just a tiny bit more bearable.

The website continues to get a lot of hits every day. Donations are slowly starting to come in. Many people that have donated have done so in memory of their baby or in memory of a loved one's baby. I want people to know about these babies. To know that people that loved these babies have reached out to help other people during their devastating times. But it is not my place to do so. I cannot put on the website that a donation was made in xxx's name. I want to; I so desperately want to. But it is not my place. So if you are thinking of making a donation, please use the tribute page to tell readers about your son or daughter. Tell them that because you loved and lost your baby some other mother will have some comfort in memory of your baby.

It's hard to get the word out about these boxes. I don't feel right asking for donations. And really that's mainly what the site is about. Sure, it's also to increase awareness, but for the most part it's basically asking for money. How do you ask people for money? Even when it's a cause that is so important to you it keeps you up at night; it takes over your thoughts for a good portion of the day? How do you ask for donations for a cause that people don't want to talk about? People don't want to think about stillbirth and infant loss. If they think about it then it becomes a reality. If it's a reality then it can happen to them. And that is a scary thought.

On the site I can see where people have been referred to my site from. Today I saw that some people came from Twitter. People I don't even know are 'tweeting' about me. That blows my mind. This little project that I dreamed up while grieving my son is being talked about by people I have never met; not even on a forum online. I don't know how they first saw the site, but they are tweeting about it nonetheless. And donating money. Blows my mind.

I feel optimistic. Good things are going to happen in memory of my sweet Benjamin. That makes me so happy that it makes me burst into tears.

I love you, my sweet baby boy. I hope you are proud of your mommy.

Benjamin Box Website!

2010-01-30T22:09:00.000-08:00

Tada!!

www.benjaminboxes.wordpress.com

Please go check it out and let me know what you think! I'm hoping for good things to come from this.

Remebrance Jewelry

2010-01-22T15:37:00.000-08:00

I recently had a necklace custom made for me by a wonderful company (www.pacificurns.ca). This company makes necklaces that are also little urns, but the beauty of them is that no one would know that is what they are. They just look like stunning pendants. A friend of mine had one made and it is just beautiful. So I contacted them about having a daisy made. I debated if I wanted a daisy or not. We called Benjamin 'Daisy' when I was pregnant with him. And daisies still make me think about him. But at the same time calling him Daisy made things a little more confusing because I was so sure my baby Daisy was going to be a girl. So when my baby Benjamin was born I felt like my baby girl (Daisy) and my baby boy (Benjamin) both died. I felt like I lost the girl I was pg with and the boy I gave birth to. Weird. But in the end a friend of mine put it in a great light. She said that by getting the necklace of a daisy I was honoring both my memories. It wasn't confusing things any more than they already were. I was honoring my baby Daisy but also Benjamin because it was his ashes in it. Confused yet?

The process of having the necklace made should have been simple. They sent me a picture of a flower they had in mind for the daisy and I okayed it and they made it happen. When I received the necklace I was so disappointed. It looked nothing like I had in mind. I didn't want to put Benjamin's ashes into it. This was supposed to be something that I would want to wear every day, but I didn't even want to look at it. I could objectively look at it and see that it was a beautiful piece of jewelery, but it just wasn't what I imagined my necklace to look like. I knew that it was my fault; it did look just like the picture that I had okayed.

I decided to call the company and tell them that I just wasn't happy with it. I didn't know what they could do about it; if anything. I actually was that woman. The one that calls a company and actually starts crying. It was a tad humiliating, lol! Anyways, the man that I ended up talking to was actually part of the design team for it. I don't think he took offense when I told him that I wasn't happy with it. I think he understood. We discussed what about it I didn't like and what I would want changed. I told him I had found some images online of daisies that were more in line with what I was thinking about. He told me to send the necklace back to him and to email him the images that I liked. Then they would make me a new one. OMG! They would make me A BRAND NEW ONE!!! For no additional charge!!! They were also going to add a Citrine stone in the middle (November birth stone). FOR NO ADDITIONAL CHARGE!

I received my new necklace a few days before we went home for Christmas. I filled it the next day and have not taken it off since. I absolutely love it. And I love that part of my sweet baby boy is with me at all times. Day and night.

So if anyone is in the market for a piece of remembrance jewelery I cannot recommend this company more highly. The customer service they have is beyond fantastic. And their work (on both necklaces) is absolutely beautiful.

Benjamin Boxes

2010-01-19T13:47:00.000-08:00

When I originally decided to make Benjamin Boxes for our local hospital I tried to find out approximately how many we would need in a year. I spoke to the grief counsellor that all the bereaved mothers get referred to. I spoke to the social workers at the hospital. And I looked at stats on line. All of this led me to believe it would be about 12 a year. These are just cases of stillbirth, as this is who will receive a Benjamin Box.

So I went shopping. I bought Notepads, pens, tissues, stationary, small zip-close bags, hand/foot print kits, and scrapbooking paper to make small frames for hand or foot prints. I also went to a local maternity/baby boutique (www.motheringtouch.ca) and told the owner about the boxes. She donated baby gowns to add to the boxes. Then I researched online sources of support and information and made up a long list to include in the boxes. I wrote up my story and included that. I also bought 12 sympathy cards and had the women in my support group sign them (often including their contact information).

I dropped off the first three boxes on November 10th. The social worker at the hospital emailed me a few weeks ago asking me to drop off another 3 boxes since they had run out of them. So I made up 3 more and dropped them off 2 weeks ago. Sadly, I just got an email today telling me they are in need of more boxes. That means that in 2 months there have been 6 families whose dreams have shattered. Six babies who were gone too soon. If these boxes have provided any comfort then I will gladly make as many as needed.

I have had people suggest setting up a paypal account so that I'm not having to make these boxes using my own money. That way I could include more things in them. I've looked into paypal, and even have a Paypal account. But I'm a tad technologically slow and don't really understand much more than how to set up the account, lol! If anyone wants to do that for me, let me know! If there are as many boxes needed as it seems then I might have to put more of an effort into fundraising. I have had a couple generous friends and relatives donate money to the cause (thank you so much!!). But I really hate asking for money. Even if it is a worthwhile cause. And I promise not to turn this blog into constant posts asking for donations! I was just surprised today when I got the email telling me they are already running short on them again. If this trend continues it could mean that I will have to donate 36 boxes this year, instead of the 12 originally planned for! Yikes!

My long-term hope is that these boxes could be offered in more hospitals than just my local one. But I'd like to get through one year here and see how it goes first. It just makes me sad to hear stories of women that have gone through this and not received any sort of support. Talk about feeling alone at a time when you need all the compassion you can get!

Signing Christmas Cards

2010-01-15T09:12:00.000-08:00

How do you sign Christmas cards? Generally, in my experience anyways, it is the woman in the relationship that signs cards. So I sign them from Rachel and Brian. Even though, more often than not, Brian has nothing to do with the card. He did think about how we needed to send a card, he did not buy the card, he did not think of anything to write in it, but yet it seems appropriate to sign his name. The thought that matters and all that. Since having Jackson I also sign his name on it too. Which sometimes amuses me since he has even less to do with the card. And now there is Lexi. Her name got thrown on all the Christmas cards too. Did she care if everyone had a good Christmas? Probably not since she doesn't understand the concept of Christmas. Heck, she doesn't even understand the concept of 'good'. And yet it is the thing to do to sign the card from everyone in the family.

Which brings me to today's topic. It did not seem right to me to sign the card from everyone in our family and not include Benjamin at all. When you really think about it Lexi wanted everyone to have a good Christmas just as much as Benjamin did. But how do you casually include your stillborn son on a Christmas card? A while ago I started signing things that were from all of us and included a '+1'. Quite often it is just small near the bottom corner of a card so that people might not really notice it, but it's there for me. He's still included. It seems silly that I feel he needs to be included on something so trivial as a Christmas card. But it's just another way to keep him included in our family and to keep the memory of him alive in everyone's mind.

It seems, as time goes on, that people tend to 'forget' about Benjamin. I know no one has actually forgotten about him, but he is barely mentioned anymore. On Christmas day I opened a card from one of Brian's aunts and she addressed it to Brian, Rachel, Jackson and Lexi. But then on the side she wrote a star and said 'and never forgetting our special boy'. What did I do? Burst into tears. That was the only mention of him that day. I know my family and Brian's family were thinking about him, but no one actually spoke of him. I don't know what I would have preferred. If everyone had talked about him then it might have been more outwardly sad. We all knew that someone was missing from the celebrations and that it was just unfair, but at the same time he was there in everyone's minds.

And at what point do I move forward and stop looking back so much? A friend asked me if I was getting an ornament this year for Benjamin. I told her that I wasn't because I felt that if I got one this year then next year I'd feel I had to again, and when would that end? I don't want the tree to be filled with ornaments for Benjamin to the point that there are less ornaments for my living children. I don't want them to feel in the shadows of their brother. I know, I know, they are just small little ornaments. But I would want them to be front and center on the tree. So no. I am not going to get him an ornament every year. I got him a beautiful one last year and I will put it on the tree every year, in a place of prominence. But I will not specifically go out and buy him a new one each year.

He would have been 13 1/2 months this Christmas. He would have just had practice opening presents at his birthday and would have been a pro at ripping into the Christmas presents. Jackson and him would have been little terrors, feeding off each other, and having a blast. It would have been hectic and crazy. And I would have loved every second of it.

Happy New Year!!

2010-01-13T21:49:00.001-08:00

Okay, okay... It's been a new year for 2 weeks now. But Happy New Year nonetheless.

My only new year resolutions are not to be pregnant or have a baby in 2010. I got pregnant with Jackson in September of 2006, gave birth to him in May of 2007. Then I got pregnant with Benjamin in February of 2008 and gave birth to him in December of 2008. Then I got pregnant with Lexi in January of 2009 and gave birth to her in September of 2009. So I've been pregnant for some part of every year since 2006 and have had a baby in 2007, 8 and 9. My body (and my sanity) need a bit of a break!

I hope everyone had a good holiday. I'll post more about it once we are settled. We were in Ontario for 3 weeks and got back last week but are still settling back into our 'routine'. Whatever that is.

On a side note, I had to drop off three more Benjamin boxes at the hospital last week. They have already given three of them to bereaved families. One of which was my neighbour... Their identical twin boys were born around 30 weeks and did not survive. I haven't made it over to their house yet. Something is stopping me. I think it's the fact that I will bawl and then be awkward in my neighbourhood. Stupid, I know. I did have Brian drop off a card while I was away. Seems trivial though...

Results from the Random Act of Kindness Day

2009-12-02T15:09:00.000-08:00

I was very happy with how many people did something nice in Benjamin's memory on his birthday. Here's all the good things that happened in the world because he existed:

- A friend let a big truck on the highway in front of her when no one else would. The truck driver smiled and waved.
- Brownies and cheesecake were made for a bake sale, even tho the baker didn't really have the time to make them.
- A neighbour's windows were washed.
- Care packages of muffins and cookies were taken to 3 co-workers who are having difficult times making ends meet.
- A 5 year old girl took part in a Remembrance Day Ceremony (she viewed this as her act of kindness and remembering Benjamin).
- An 8 year old girl helped some classmates with schoolwork problems.
- The same 8 year old girl befriended another skater at her skating lesson.
- Workmates were driven to Remembrance Day Ceremonies.
- A soldier's hand was shaken and he was thanked for his efforts in peacekeeping.
- Neighbour's were surprised with coffee, tea and timbits.
- A couple whose 4 week old baby is in the hospital were surprised with a gift certificate to Boston Pizza.
- A mother sent notes in her kid's lunch boxes telling them how thankful she is for them.
- A mother got her toddlers timbits for a snack (which they never get!).
- A bag of food was given to a homeless man.
- A teacher took her co-worker's duties so she could enjoy her lunch
- Co-workers were surprised with coffee
- Money was donated to Empty Arms for books for the library.
- Food was brought to a friend who had lost her baby recently.
- A donation was made to Heifer International.
- Fabric was dropped off to a friend who is unable to travel.
- A mother had a 'random act of craziness' with her 3 year old son by jumping on the bed to dance and sing; just enjoyed the little moment in life with her child.
- Baby cereal and baby food was donated to the food bank by the same mom and 3 year old boy (he picked fruits he was sure the babies would like).
- The same 3 year old boy found a some Christmas ornaments in the parking lot and brought them in to the customer service desk so the person who lost them could come back and get them.
- Clothes were donated.
- Carnations were handed out to random people at the grocery store.
- Money was donated to City Harvest (an organization that provides food to the needy in NYC).
- A mom is buying one extra thing at the supermarket every time she goes and dropping it in the donation bin.
- A co-worker was brought lunch when he was stuck in a meeting all day.
- A mom made her family her priority that day as she feels she takes them for granted all too often. She emailed or talked to 3 family members that she usually tends to avoid.
- A dad called his grandparents and talked to them for quite a while and had his 2 year old daughter talk to them too. It made their day.

So as you can see, the random acts of kindness ranged from simple things that we all should be doing already (cherishing the day to day with our families) to things that are not done often (donations to charities). And each and every one of these acts made me smile when I heard about them. So thank you to everyone that took the time that day to think of my sweet baby boy.

Lexi's birth story

2009-11-17T11:18:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted her birth story yet. I wrote most of it out right after she was born (during that long week I was still in the hospital). Here is the first installment!

Alexandra Simone is here!!

I am overjoyed to announce the SAFE arrival of our beautiful baby girl Alexandra Simone. She was born on Friday, September 25th at 8:26pm. She was a whopping 6 pounds, 13 ounces and 50.5cm long. We heard her beautiful cry moments after her caesarean section birth. It was the best sound we have ever heard.

It has been a VERY long week; a fitting end to a VERY long 38 weeks. Here’s how the week went…

Thursday, September 24th - This was the first day that I was on the induction list. We were not all that hopeful that I would get a call telling me to come in. I dropped Jackson off at daycare like usual and went home to tidy up the house, planning to watch a Baby Story marathon for the rest of that morning. Then I had to pick up Jackson at 1pm. But all that was to change. At 10:45am I got a call from the hospital. I had made it to #1 on the induction list!! I was to come in as soon as safely possible! I ran around the house for the next 20 minutes grabbing stuff for my hospital bag, grabbing other things I thought I might want for the potentially long stretch of hospital induction ahead of me. Then I had to run next door to make sure Jackson could stay at daycare for the rest of the day. Then off to work to pick up Brian and head in to the hospital!

I got there and they immediately put me into L&D Room #2 (never even a question as to whether I would go into room #1 or not!). They hooked me up to the fetal monitors and found Thumper’s heart beat right away; nice and strong. After a little while a resident doctor came in and examined me. On Tuesday at my doctor appointment I had been a fingertip dilated so I was hoping to have made it to at least 1-2cm (I’d been crampy all week). This doctor examined me and announced that I was closed up tight. Ummm… So apparently not only did my body not know I was full term but it was also actively denying it! So with that the resident inserted the Cervidil and hooked me back up to the fetal monitors. I had to remain lying down for 30minutes with the monitors on so they could ensure that the Cervidil didn’t negatively affect the baby.

Once I was able to move they brought me over to my room on Antepartum. I had been worried that they would place me in Room #6 and that would be just too difficult to be so close to Room #7 (the room where moms are placed who are having stillbirths). Those two rooms share a bathroom and I would have such a hard time fighting the urge to go next door to offer any comfort I could to any mom in that room. Luckily I was placed in Room #5, close but not too close. I had a roommate who was in for preterm labour at 29 weeks. She was a very nice woman with an adorable 3 year old son. We had a lot of nice friendly chats and talked about fearing for our baby’s lives. It was nice to have someone to talk to during that time who sort of knew the emotions I was going through.

All through Thursday I was still having the cramps that I normally had, but nothing implying labour was imminent. I went to sleep that night (with the help of a sleeping pill) assuming labour was not going to happen any time soon. I started believing that I would be sent home either the next afternoon or on Saturday to wait and come back in next week some time.

Friday, September 25th – I woke up that morning and still wasn’t feeling labour starting up. In the evening I was hooked up to the monitors by one of my favourite nurses; Mary. She was working Antepartum when I had Benjamin and was one of the two nurses that I remember the most. She had sat with me during that time and talked to me and hugged me and made things a little easier. When I saw her this day I was so happy to see someone that was such an important part of that time. She remembered me and sat with me for a little while chatting again. She hooked up the monitor early in the morning and said “if baby is ready to be born I’ll find the heart beat right here” and put the monitor on the lower left side of my belly. Sure enough, there was the heart beat, nice and strong. I decided that I was going to be a little more proactive this day and went for a nice long walk outside (well, as long a walk as I could waddle). After my first walk around 11am I mentioned to the nurse that I wanted to be hooked up to the monitors for a bit. I hadn’t felt the baby moving too much and was getting a little worried about it. A nurse came into the room and put the monitor on my belly, where the baby’s heart beat was always found right away. The monitor was silent. I immediately started crying and thinking the worst. All I could think was “I cannot go through this again; I cannot lose another child”. After a little while and a lot of searching we were able to find the heartbeat on the lower right side of my belly. The baby had shifted to the other side and must have been with her back closer to my back for the heart beat to be so faint. But there was a heart beat, and that’s all that mattered.

At 1:30 I went to the bathroom and realized that the Cervidil was not in place anymore. I was due to get my next dose at 2:30 anyways so the nurses called my doctor to come and check me and insert another Cervidil. In the meantime they hooked me up to the monitors again because I had mentioned that on my last walk I had been feeling a lot of regular cramping so I wanted to be hooked up just to see if anything was happening. I was also feeling a little anxious about Thumper’s movements again. They hooked me up to the monitors and I was having contractions. They were quite mild but were actually very regular, about 3-4 minutes apart. When my doctor came to the room to check me we found out that I was about 1-2cm dilated now. That, along with the regular contractions, made my doctor decide not to insert any more Cervidil but instead to move me to Labour and Delivery and start Pitocin.

I was put in L&D Room #3. That was the same room that I had Jackson in so I felt it was a good sign. When we all got into the room my doctor informed me that she was also going to break my water. She had spoken to my high risk OB and he had told her to rupture my membranes. When she went to check me and break my water she decided that the baby’s head was too high still and she was not comfortable breaking the water. She decided instead to call the OB and have him come check me and he could break my water if he was comfortable doing it. In the end my OB wasn’t on call anymore so we had another OB come. He came in and checked me. Right away he said that he was not comfortable breaking my water either. He felt that the baby’s head was too high and he thought she had a hand up by her head. He brought in the ultrasound machine to see what we were dealing with. We saw one of the last things any of us were expecting. Thumper had turned breech. It happened at some point between the morning when Mary hooked me up to the monitors and that moment. It was a sobering coincidence: when I was induced with Benjamin he was head down but when he was born he had flipped and was head up. Same thing was happening again. When they first induced me Thumper was head down but now that it was time for the birth she had flipped and was head up. To make it even more surreal she was footling breech; the same rare type of breech that Benjamin had been.

Right away the OB and my doctor started telling us that I would need to have a caesarean section. A breech delivery was just too risky. Because it was already after normal hospital hours we would not have access to a high detail ultrasound machine that would tell us the exact positioning of the baby and if the baby would safely be able to fit through the birth canal. I was devastated. I did NOT want a c-section. It was one thing I had been trying to avoid the entire pregnancy. I had researched the likelihood of every induction method ending in a c-section. I had even researched vaginal birth of breech babies. I knew it could be done! But in the end Brian and I decided that there were just too many ‘what ifs’ involved in going through with ‘trying’ to vaginally birth Thumper. I could not stop thinking about the fact that I had vaginally birthed Benjamin and he was basically full term and breech. I knew my body could do it, so maybe we should try to have the birth that I wanted (vaginal). While we were in the L&D room discussing our options and trying to come to terms with having a c-section Mary came in to talk to me. She put it in a very blunt way that totally rang true to Brian and I. She said “With Benjamin there was nothing to salvage, with this baby there is everything in the world to salvage. Look at it as a chance to make this an entirely new experience just for this baby.” Once she said that the decision to have the c-section was much easier. I knew that it was much more risky to birth Thumper this way than it was for Benjamin since we didn’t have to worry about his health. I could not take the chances with Thumper’s health just to get ‘my birth experience’. The most important thing was definitely her health and safety. So we told the nurses to let the doctors know we wanted to do the c-section, and we wanted it done as soon as possible.

Around 8pm the nurses brought me into the operating room. I was a little nervous since I didn’t know what to expect. I had never had any major surgery (just my wisdom teeth out when I was a teenager). I knew I was going to have to have a spinal (like an epidural) and the idea of that made me uncomfortable. The main reason I never wanted an epidural during labour was because I don’t want the recovery from one, I don’t want the loss of feeling and movement and control. So I got up on the operating room table and had to hunch over so that the anaesthesiologist could locate the right spot and inject the meds into my spinal column. Talk about uncomfortable! Here I am, hunching over in a ball around a 38 week baby while having contractions. Just to make sure it was a horrible experience the anaesthesiologist could not find the proper spot and ended up making 6 or 7 attempts before finally getting it. I have no idea how long it took. All I know was he had to inject some freezing medicine in first and then follow through with a bigger needle to make sure he got the right spot. Every single poke hurt. By the end of it I was sobbing. As soon as he stopped I sat back up and almost instantly my left leg started getting very warm. They helped me lay down on the table and got to work setting up the operating room. The spinal had taken full effect and everyone was in position so they brought Brian in.

I should mention here that there were two L&D nurses in the operating room with us. One was Cindy, who was a younger woman and very very nice. She explained things to me and was very calming and compassionate. She was the one standing holding my shoulders when the spinal was being put in. The other nurse was Jen. As soon as I saw her I knew that I recognized her. She was the ‘Young pretty nurse’ from my stay on Antepartum when I had Benjamin. She was the nurse that took Benjamin from me the last time and did so with such compassion and love that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. She was the last person I saw holding my sweet baby boy. The fact that she was there for the birth of my next baby, my daughter, meant the world to me. It was just so right.

During the delivery Jen stayed up around my head a lot and talked me through some of what was going on. When they were pulling the baby’s head out it took them a long time and Brian and I started getting a little concerned. I kept asking him what they were doing and why it was taking so long. I finally asked him if the doctors looked worried. At that point Jen told us that it was all normal and nothing was wrong. That was a relief to hear.

When the baby was pulled out she didn’t give the big full-bodied cry like I so desperately wanted to hear and I think both Brian and I held our breath until we heard any sort of a cry from her. She let out a little squawk, but there was no big cry. That was okay though because that cry said everything we needed to hear anyways. The OB held her up for us to get a quick peek and then took her over to the exam table so that the paediatrician and the student doctor could give her a full exam to make sure everything was okay with her. She scored a 9 and a 10 on her apgars and all of her reflexes were working how they should be. It felt like they were taking forever to examine her and I started worrying that there must be something wrong with her and they just weren’t telling us yet. I asked Brian a million times why they were taking so long and what was wrong. I know my voice started getting a little panicky and Jen quickly came over to reassure me that everything was okay; they were just thoroughly checking her over. Then she went over to the paediatrician and told him “we have a very anxious mom here” and he promptly finished the exam, wrapped her up and brought her over to us.

I was so happy when they brought her over and we got to see her opening her eyes, looking around, making little grunting noises. Just being so alive. I hated that I was strapped down to the table and couldn’t hold her and have skin to skin contact with her right away. I hated that I couldn’t nurse her immediately. But she was here and we could touch her and feel her warm skin and her little squirms. She was perfect.

While the doctors were finishing the c-section Brian and the baby were taken to the recovery room where they would wait for me. I was brought in shortly after and was cleaned up and my vitals were taken and all that usual stuff. During this time I got to really look at the baby and finally got to nurse her. She latched on right away and instinctively knew what to do. It was one of the moments that I had been waiting for, and it was perfect. Around this time Jen and Cindy noticed that the baby was feeling a little cold so they decided that she should have a little time in the warmer to try to help her regulate her body temperature a little bit. While she was in there Brian stood beside her just marvelling at her. It was a very touching sight. I know how anxious he was to get her here alive and healthy and you could just see the love for her on his face. During this time Brian and I decided to finalize the name. We decided on Alexandra Simone. We chose Alexandra because we just really liked the name and we like the name Ally. We chose Simone after Brian’s dad, Simon. Now Jackson is named after my dad, Alexandra is named after Brian’s dad, and Benjamin is named after both sides of our family.

We were transferred to the Mother and Babe Unit once Alexandra’s body temperature regulated and I was all ready to be moved. We were brought to a double room that didn’t have anyone else in it so Brian was able to stay that first night. Good thing too since half of me was still pretty much useless! I was able to shimmy myself off the OR bed and onto my Mother/Babe bed, so I was feeling okay about the whole loss of control issue with the spinal. That first night I did not get any sleep. Brian, on the other hand, slept like a champ, snoring away! Alexandra slept through most of the night too, making sweet little grunts and sighs the entire time.

Random Acts of Kindness

2009-11-12T09:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a good day for our family. I thought it would be a hard day, but it was surprisingly a happy day. We didn't do anything overly special, but we did make sure to spend the entire day just being a family and enjoying our time together. Brian and I were able to talk quite a bit about Benjamin and how he changed us and our family. It was a good day.

We ended up buying a cake from the grocery store. And let me tell you, it was the yummiest cake I have ever bought. Seriously good. We still have tons left in the fridge and I am using some serious restraint not to eat it for breakfast. Jackson blew out the candle and even said 'happy birthday ben'. Very sweet.

For our Random Acts of Kindness here's what we did:
- We donated two HUGE garbage bags of clothes, bedding, etc to the clothing exchange here in town. These were clothes that we don't wear anymore, but all of them were in great condition and most of them were cooler weather clothes, so I'm sure they'll get snatched up right away.
- I finished three Benjamin boxes and got them to the hospital in time for his birthday. So now the next mom that loses a baby at our hospital will have one of the comfort boxes.
- I delivered thank you cards with letters to the two nurses at the hospital that helped me in ways they will never fully comprehend. They weren't on shift when I was there so they will either get them yesterday or today.
- We donated a package of diapers, a can of formula, 3 cans of tuna, 3 cans of veggies, and 3 containers of soup to our local food bank.

That's everything that we did. We also decided last night that every time we go grocery shopping from now on we are going to buy one extra thing and leave it in the donation box at our grocery store. If every one bought just one extra thing those bins would be full every day. And it really doesn't cost too much, but it helps so much.

I've received a bunch of emails from people who have done nice things for others in memory of Benjamin. I am putting them all together in a list so that I can print it off and put it in his book. I don't want to miss any, so if you haven't let me know what you did, you can put it in the comments on here.

Thank you to everyone who took part in this. Yesterday could have been a very hard day but whenever I started getting sad I was able to think about all the nice things that were happening because of him. All the people who were doing just one simple act of kindness in his memory. It truly made the day a happy celebration of his life, not just a sad day about his passing. So thank you for that.

Happy Birthday Benjamin

2009-11-11T09:38:00.000-08:00

Dear Benjamin,

It doesn’t seem right that an entire year has passed since you were born. It honestly feels like just yesterday I was still pregnant with you, still wondering how you being here would change our little family. I wish so badly to be able to go back to those days.

When they told me you had died I was devastated. I could not bring myself to believe that you had actually died. That we wouldn’t get to bring you home and watch you grow up. It was just too painful, too unfair. But that’s what happened. Your life was the 36 weeks you spent nestled inside me. These days I like to tell myself that all you ever knew was love. That you never had to feel pain, feel sadness, feel hatred, or feel alone. You were always with me and I believe you knew how much I loved you. I believe you heard your daddy and your brother and knew how much they loved you too. I think you knew your family.

This year has been an interesting one. When I think back to the day you were born it feels like just yesterday, but when I think of how much has happened this year it feels like these 12 months were actually 3 years. So much has changed. YOU have changed so much in this family, and in this world. How can one little baby that never got to take a breath of air change so much? By the love that so many people felt for him, by the impact that his death had on so many people. And you know what Benjamin? So many people did love you and were so saddened by your death; people that we know and people that we don’t even know. Your little life touched people all across the world. So many people know who you are.

I don’t know what I believe happened to you when you died. I don’t believe in heaven and hell and all of that. But I don’t believe in reincarnation either. I certainly don’t believe that you just ceased to exist once you died. I guess I believe you are still around somehow, still watching over us. I find I talk to you sometimes, mostly when I am alone in the car. That’s our special time and I can talk to you and cry for you. I don’t cry as much as I used to. That definitely does not mean that I don’t miss you anymore though. It just means that I have accepted the unfairness of your death. I know you had to die.

How I wish that you were here to blow out the candle on your cake tonight. One of my happiest memories of Jackson was watching him demolish his first birthday cake. My heart actually aches right now thinking about how I won’t get to watch you do that. I am going to bake you a cake anyway. Jackson is going to blow out your candle and then we’ll all have some of it. We won’t use forks and we’ll try to make a mess for you.

I love you Benjamin; just as much today as I did a year ago. That love will never go away and will never diminish. I could go on to have twenty more children and none of them will take any of my love for you away. But each and every one of them would know they have a sweet baby brother named Benjamin.

So if you are around, watching over us, please make this day easy for your daddy and I. Please give us ways to think of you with a smile and a happy heart. Don’t let us dwell on the pain and unfairness of losing you. Remind us that even though you are not physically here with us you will always live on in our hearts and in the laughs of your brother and sister. Please know that tonight when I kiss Jackson goodnight I’m giving him an extra kiss for you. And when I cuddle Lexi while she sleeps please know I’m cuddling her extra lovingly for you. I love you sweetie and I miss you so much.

Happy Birthday Honeybun.

Love,

One year ago

2009-11-09T08:51:00.001-08:00

One year ago today, basically to the minute, is when we found out Benjamin had died. It's a hard day today.

The closer it gets...

2009-11-06T14:52:00.000-08:00

I don't know how to refer to the day. Is November 11th Benjamin's birthday? I guess, technically, it is, but it just doesn't feel right to call it that. I know a lot of people refer to the day a stillborn baby is born as their angelversary, but I am not religious and don't believe that he is an angel, so that doesn't fit either. For simplicity sake I have been referring to the day as his birthday. I mean, he was born on that day after all. But really it should just be Benjamin's day. A day to celebrate him and all that he was and all that he could have been.

As the day gets closer it seems to be taking up more and more of my thoughts. It doesn't help that every where I look I am reminded of the fact that November 11th is almost here. For anyone not familiar with the Canadian Remembrance Day, it is a day that is spent honouring war vetrans and people wear a poppy for days leading up to November 11th. I am so much more aware of them this year, it seems that they are out in an abundance. I see them on everyone's lapels, I see them in bins by the register in stores, I see them scattered on the ground (those pins never do stay in your coat!). They are just everywhere. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Some days it makes me sad to see them, some days it makes me happy, some days it makes me angry. Sad because it's a reminder of how close it is to a year since Benjamin was born. Happy because it makes me think about him. And angry because I want the day to just be about Benjamin. I don't want his birthday to fall on such a somber day. It doesn't feel fair to me that so many other people will be sad on his birthday. I want that all to myself. I know it's irrational, but it's how I feel.

I just spent some time working on Benjamin Boxes. I compiled a resource list of websites that are useful to bereaved parents. I also wrote a letter about why I have made the boxes. In doing all of this I also went back and read some of the stuff I wrote after he was born. Some of it is posted on here, some of it isn't. It opened up some wounds that I thought had healed. But in a way it felt good to revisit those emotions.

I hope some of you are thinking of things to do in Benjamin's memory on Wednesday. I have heard from some people that they are planning on doing something and that means a lot to me. Thank you.

Idea for Benjamin's birthday

2009-10-29T19:33:00.000-07:00

I asked a bunch of people for ideas on ways to 'celebrate' Benjamin's first birthday. One of the suggestions I got totally took me off guard with how much I love it. How perfect it seems. I am posting it here now so that everyone has a chance to plan for it. That's right, it involves all of you!

The idea is a Random Acts of Kindness Day. Basically everyone does something on that day for someone else in Benjamin's memory. You can donate time, money, goods, etc. You can help out a neighbour, a friend, a family member or a stranger. You can clean up your neighbourhood. Whatever you want to do that helps to improve the lives of others. Then after you have done it come on here (I'll have a post for this on his birthday or the day before or after) and let me know what you have done. My plan is to print off all the kind acts and put them in his memory box. I want this to be a yearly tradition so that years from now I can look at the lists from each year and see what a positive difference his short life has made in this world.

Another suggestion that a friend made was to start a scrapbook for him. In the book I would put a letter or card to him each year, a page for each year showing what we did on his birthday, a yearly family photo with the blanket he was wrapped in in the hospital (maybe including the birthday cake I'll make for him), when the kids are older they could draw him a picture each birthday and that would go in it, and it could be the scrapbook that I make with his photos and mementos from the hospital. I love this idea because then he gets a scrapbook that gets added to every year! That was one thing I was really upset about, that any book I made for him had an ending. This one won't and that makes me happy. So thank you for that suggestion Tracy!!

Anyways, start thinking about what you want to do for Benjamin's Random Acts of Kindness day. It doesn't have to be anything elaborate or time consuming. Just something to make the world a little bit better. Even if it's just spending a little more quality time with your kids with no distractions and no expectations, just a little extra time loving them out loud. And then come here and tell me what you did. That part of this is important.

One month

2009-10-26T14:10:00.000-07:00

Lexi was a month old yesterday. I took her photo in the black chair. Jackson was born on the 30th of the month and every 30th I would take his photo in the black chair. That way I could see the changes and his growth month by month.

On December 11th of last year I was so sad. All I could think about was that I should be taking Benjamin's photo in the black chair. I wanted so desperately to take his photo in that stupid chair. It was so unfair to me that I could not do that.

Last night we propped Lexi up in that black chair and took her photo. As happy as I was to do it I could not help but think about how unfair it was that I never got to do the same for Benjamin. I am going to have monthly photos of Lexi in that chair, just as I do for Jackson, and I will cherish both sets of them. But it still sucks that I don't even have one photo in that chair of their brother. Such a stupid thing. It's just a photo. In a chair that is usually covered in cat fur. There are so many more important things that should upset me that they will have that Benjamin will not. Yet this is what makes me sad. I suppose it will every month.

And while I'm posting on here I'll bring up another issue. Actually I'll bring up two. The first is how freaking sick and tired I am of hearing people say how lucky I am to have a boy and a girl. "One of each, how nice, you have the perfect family". "A boy and a girl, you must be so happy". "A millionaire's family, how fantastic". Ummm. NO. I do not have ONE of each. Yes, that is all that you can see, but every single time someone says this to me all I can think is that I am NOT lucky to have one of each. I am not so happy to have one of each. It is not fantastic. It sucks. It is depressing. It is unfair and it is shitty. Sure I have one boy and one girl here with me. But I am supposed to have two boys. Or two boys and a girl. I am not supposed to just have two children. In my heart I have three and that is just so painful that no one can see that.

The second issue is that if Benjamin had not of died we would not have Lexi. As shitty as that is, it is probably true. I highly doubt we would have still gotten pregnant at 2 months postpartum. I don't think we are that sadistic. So no, we probably would not have Lexi in our lives right now. We would have a 2 1/2 year old boy and an almost 12 month old boy. Maybe I'd be pregnant again by now, but I certainly would not have a 1 month old girl too. So if he had not died we would not have her. That brings up the issue of which way is better? If Benjamin hadn't died we wouldn't have Lexi. So to have one we can't have the other. Either Benjamin or Lexi. Would I rather Benjamin not have died, not have gone through that horrible pain, and instead have my little one year old running around the house right now? Or is it best the way it is now? Have gone through that pain of losing Benjamin and be the person I am now with the one month old daughter? I know Benjamin gave me many gifts and changed who I am in more ways than anyone (myself included) can imagine, but would I rather be in the life I could have had if he had lived? Thinking these thoughts makes me sad. Sad that I question if I'd rather Lexi never have existed. Sad that I question whether I want her as much as I would have wanted her brother. But that's not it. It's not that I want her or him. It's more a question of whether I want this life or that life. The pain and the changes and the heartache that came with losing him, but also the awareness and experiences that came with it. Or whether I would have preferred not to have gone through all of that and not have gone through the changes that he created. As surprising as it seems, I think I prefer this life. As much as my heart hurts every day for him, i know that he gave me so many gifts and opportunities. As much as I wish he were here with me right now, I know that he will always be in my heart. He will always be such an important part of my life. He will live on in his older brother and his sister. Those glimpses of him that I see in Lexi are there to remind me that in addition to all the gifts he gave me he gave me one more. His sister is here because he could not be. And for that I love him even more.

His birthday is coming up. I don't know what to do about that. I know it's going to be hard. I don't know how badly it's going to hit me. I can rationally look at it as it's just another day. Just another day without him. What should it matter that it's the one year anniversary of the day he was born. And really which day should be harder? November 7th, the day they figure he died? November 9th, the day we found out he had died? November 11th, the day he was born? Or November 13th, the last day I got to hold him? All those dates suck. I think November 11th is going to be the worst. Not just because that is the day that it became such a reality, but because that is also Remembrance Day. It's a national day of mourning. A day when everyone will be thinking about and talking about people who have died. No matter where you are at 11:11am there is a moment of silence to think about those who have died. Last year during that moment we were holding our son, dealing with the undeniable reality that he had died. How is that moment going to hit me this year? Will it be hard every year for me or will it be a sweet reminder of my beautiful baby boy? Being sad that he died can't change the past. It won't bring him back. On November 11th, 2008 we got to meet our son. We got to look at his beautiful face and see who he looked like. Sure he was born still, but it is still his birthday. I hope on that day I can think of it that way. I want to do something nice on that day. Something that can be a family tradition for him. We don't have a gravesite to go to, or a special place that makes us think of him. I want something to do that Jackson and Lexi will know is in memory of their brother. I want something to do that can make Brian and I happy to think of our baby boy. I want something to do that is just for us, just for our family. I want it to be fun and happy. I don't want the day to be about sadness and crying. I want Jackson and Lexi to see us remembering their brother with smiles and love. So if anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear them.

Remembering the babies

2009-10-15T19:49:00.000-07:00

I tried to think of some way to write what October 15th was all about. I couldn't. Then a woman on a support forum I go on posted this. It sums it up so beautifully. Thank you Terri.

Dear Friends,

Tomorrow is October 15th. This may seem like any other day, but I assure you, it is not. On October 15th, we commemorate National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. We take a moment and collectively do what many of us do individually, in the quiet of our hearts and minds, every day: we remember the babies who are no longer with us, yet whose lives continue on each moment of each day as we live and breathe.

I write this on behalf of all of us. We are parents. We are mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers who grieve and yet we hope, we love, and we believe. We seek for our children’s lives to have meaning and for the world to remember them. We raise our living children with the knowledge that our families transcend heaven and earth.

We want you to understand so many things. But if I had to choose one thing, it would be this: we want you to remember our babies. We know sometimes you don’t know what to say, and that’s ok. But when you do talk about them, and you speak their names, it is a gift to us and a message that you know what we know to be so very, very true: their lifetimes, however short, have changed us. They made us who we are and we are proud of them. So on October 15th, light a candle, lift up a prayer, or take a moment and think of them.

I write this to honor them and to honor their families. I write this to say thank you to the mothers and fathers who reached out to me, a stranger in the dark, and said “I have been in this darkness, and I will hold your hand, and you will survive this.” This, to me, is the truest testament to how these special babies who graced this earth for such a short time, have changed it. A wave of strength surrounds these parents and I am forever grateful for them, and for their children, those who breathe and those who soar.

So on October 15th, will you take a moment? And when you do, I ask you to remember my son, Luke Michael Latham, who I held in my arms on April 10, 2007. I ask you to remember his aunt, my sister, Marion, who my mother held on April 27, 1977. I ask you to remember my cousin, Anna Claire Pilcher, whose mother Debbie saw her beautiful face on September 17, 1999.

I ask you to remember Luke’s friends in heaven, the babies of those who I am so honored to have in my life. There are many of us and our bond lives on this earth and beyond.

Cheyenne Cacciatore (7/27/1994). Kaira Elise Shroeder (6/22/2004). Hope Maxine Rollins (10/19/2008). Kayleigh Jennifer (10/26/2008). Natalie Rose (12/23/2008). Marley Kai (6/24/2008). Wiley Joseph (11/28/2008). Grace Jeri (9/14/2008). Elijah (8/15/2007). Parker Geofferson (9/15/2008). Liam Samuel (8/21/08). Aidan Jeanty (3/27/2009). Braeden Letera (11/3/2006). Jaden Elizabeth (7/16/2006). Maya Gabrielle (2/2/2007). Isobel Margaret Corsi (3/27/2007). Isabelle Ashley (4/9/2007). Alex Kean (3/9/2008). Elliot Joseph 5/15/2007). Michael Patrick Seeber (5/18/2006). Jocelyn Isabella White (3/27/2008). Carter Gene Tyson (4/15/2006). Callia Hope (9/30/2008). Hudson J. Henry (6/26/2008). Donn Lee (1/6/2009). Faith (3/7/2007). Jamel (1/1/2007). Sarah Faith (4/7/2007). Tobias Kirk (6/7/2007). Caiden Andrew Smith (11/14/2008). Kiley Marie (3/21/2009). Sophia Joanne (2/13/2009). Landon Charles Dunham (2/16/2009). Silas Allen Randall (8/1/2008). Madison Grace (9/21/2006). Benjamin William Herbert (11/11/2008). Braelyn & Azlyn Allen (11/20/2006). Chloe (7/18/2008). Connor White (May 21, 2008). Zachary Tyler Rooney (7/8/2009).

So as I sit here with Lexi contently nursing at my breast and Jackson sleeping peacefully in the room beside me I can't help but feel like a big part of my heart is missing. I have my candle burning by my pictures of Benjamin but I don't need a specific day to remind me to think about him. Some moments he's all I can think about. But I hope that on this particular day some of you think about him too. Think about him and all the other babies who were gone too soon.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

2009-10-11T17:27:00.000-07:00

October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I will (hopefully) post more about this in another post. If you don't know much about this day then please google it. In the meantime here is a poem that I want everyone to read.

We are Parents

We are the parents who said goodbye too soon. We are the mothers and fathers who have no memories of smiles, hugs and ‘I love yous’. We are the parents who grieve for lives never lived. The parents who see our children grow alongside yours; only ours grow in our minds.

Yet, we are also the parents whose children remain sweet and innocent, newborns eternally.

We are the mothers with everlasting empty arms, and the fathers with eternal broken hearts.

We are the parents who cry when no one is watching, to save you the uncomfortableness of our pain. We are the parents whose hearts break each time we remember, sometimes hundreds of times a day, all dealt with internally.

We are the ones for whom every event has a part of sadness. The ones who cry in the shower, in the car, in the dark.

We are the parents who hurt so badly because we love so much.

The parents of the forgotten children. The children who had no chance to draw us a picture, preform a dance, or to sing us a song. The children who didn’t get to draw a breath, feel the earths atmosphere or let out a cry. Our children who we wrapped and loved, then we were forced to let go of too soon.

Our children are the ones who didn’t get the chance to make friends, or cakes, or mud pies. Our children who never got to go to school, answer back to us, or go to a ball. Our children who will have no first kiss, no true love, no wedding, no children of their own.

Our children, whom we long to hold so badly, it leaves us pained, sometimes so over whelmed it is hard to breathe. Our children who we long to be reunited with, when our time comes.

We are the parents forced to say goodbye too soon. The ones who ache eternally, no matter how you think we shouldn’t. Do not judge a broken heart unless you too have felt this pain, words can do no justice. Only know we are doing the best we can.

Please don’t forget who we are. It may have been years since we lost a child, but the heart knows no time.

And please, don’t ever forget to remember who our children are. They will forever make us who we are.

(Written with love by Tania Pulman 2007

forever loving my Cole, born Still 08/01/03)

Remember the little ones - Baby loss awareness week 2009

Introducing Alexandra Simone

2009-10-06T12:18:00.000-07:00

On Friday September 25th our little girl was born! I would say she was born kicking and screaming, but she's a very subdued baby, lol! She did make this squawking noise and then gave out a little cry, just enough to let me breath again. She was 6 pounds 13 ounces and 20" long. She's got a lot of dark hair and people say she looks like Jackson. Brian and I don't see it tho. I can see some similarities but mostly she just looks like a gorgeous baby.

We are adjusting well. She's still fighting jaundice issues so we are just waiting for that to clear up before we will believe that she won't have to go back in to the hospital. Hopefully the test this afternoon will put all of that to rest.

Jackson is loving having a little sister. He wants to constantly hold the baby. It's pretty cute.

I am going to post the full birth story as soon as I get it done (or in parts). There were a lot of difficult similarities between Lexi's birth and Benjamin's (for example they both started their inductions head down but turned footling breech during the labour, ending in a c-section for Lexi). All in all it was an emotionally difficult pregnancy and induction, but once she was in my arms it got easier. I still have moments where I am overcome by the 'what should have beens' but day by day I'm making it.

Here's some photos of our little peanut.

Just a quick update

2009-09-16T13:21:00.000-07:00

So I went for my amnio on Monday morning. My HR OB also checked me to see if I am ready. They score your readiness on a scale of 0-10 (0-4 means you are not showing any signs of readiness and induction is not recommended, 4-6 means you could be induced, 6+ means you are definitely a good candidate for induction). I scored a 0. Yep, not even a pity point. So my body is not ready to be induced. Which is fine because we got the results from the amnio back and Thumper is also not ready. Her surfactant levels were around 30something, which puts her risk of lung issues at 15%. That's too high for us. So we continue to wait.

I go for another NST on Thursday and then another one on Tuesday. After my Tuesday appt I will have another consultation with my HR OB. At that point we will figure out the induction plan. He wants to induce me early/mid next week. We are good with that plan. The only problem now is my regular maternity doctor, the one that will deliver the baby, is away mid/end of next week. So it looks like some random doctor on call will be delivering my baby. I actually don't really care. I figure the nurses and Brian and I do most of the work anyways. Plus I'm sure my HR OB will be checking on me too, so I know I'll be in good hands.

In the meantime I'm hoping I just go into labour on my own. Any suggestions?

The day is near

2009-09-03T10:38:00.000-07:00

Here's the plan of action. I go for another non-stress test and consultation with the high risk OB next Thursday. At that consultation he is going to give me a quick ultrasound to check my fluid levels and check how Thumper is doing. I will be 35 weeks, 6 days pregnant at that time. Then the following week (date still to be determined) I will go back to the hospital for an amniocentesis. This will tell us how ready the baby's lungs are. I think my doctor will also check me to see how ready my body is. Assuming everything is ready they will start the induction as soon as there is room on labour & delivery! If the amnio comes back saying Thumper is not ready yet then we will wait another few days, or a week, and do another amnio to check again. As soon as her lungs are mature enough we will start the induction.

Can you believe that in 2 weeks I might be holding my little girl?

If anyone has any experience with inductions, with babies born at 36/37 weeks, or with amniocentesis please leave me a comment (or email me) about it. I have been researching my options a little bit but would like some first hand advice. As you can imagine, I am a little stressed out about all of this!

Update on Thumper and I

2009-08-25T08:50:00.000-07:00

Only 2-4 weeks left. Only 2-4 weeks left. Only 2-4 weeks left.

If I keep repeating that it will make the time go quicker right? It'll make everything stay good and healthy right?

So far (knock on wood) everything is still going well. I had an appointment with my high risk OB last week. This was a follow up from a very irritating appointment with my regular maternity doctor. Here's the background on that...

At the beginning of this pregnancy my mat doctor had told me that I would have so many ultrasounds I would be sick of them by the end. That I would be sent for routine non-stress tests from around 32 weeks on. That I would do kick counts. And that at 36/37 weeks they would do an amnio to check the baby's lung maturity and then induce me. That all sounded good to me. I was sent to a high risk OB around 12 weeks just to make sure things were good. In this doctor's report back to my regular mat doctor he outlined that I would need more monitoring and more support since this would be such a difficult pregnancy, emotionally wise mostly.

At my appointment earlier this month I asked my regular mat doctor what our game plan was for the rest of the pregnancy. He said that I would be sent for one more ultrasound, I might be sent for a non-stress test, and at 36 weeks we would meet to discuss whether he would let me go past term or not. Ummm.... Past term?? As in past 40 weeks?? Are you kidding me? I almost started hyperventilating right then and there. He said that he didn't want to do too many tests because sometimes they can lead to 'off readings' that would rush people to make decisions and lead to an unecessary c-section. Fair enough. But they can also show problems that we wouldn't have known about. They can also do a lot to ease my anxiety.

I left that appointment feeling so many things. Dissapointment, anxiety, fear, sadness, and just a general sense of being let down and alone. I had a therapy appointment that Friday and talked about all of this with her. She helped me to see that I wasn't overreacting and that I should make another appointment to go in and talk about this with him. That I should demand the care that I feel I need. If I feel further tests would ease my anxiety then push for them. If I feel I cannot go past a certain week of this pregnancy then make sure he knows that. There is no reason for him to make me go to term, let alone past term. From everything I've read and every website I've seen there are not too many women who have had a subsequent pregnancy after stillbirth that are made to go to term. Most are induced between 36 and 38 weeks.

Brian and I went back to see him early the next week. He had already called the high risk OB and was setting up an appointment for me to go and see him to get some questions answered. In the meantime we asked him all of our questions. He told us that he didn't want to send us for frequent non-stress tests because they generally are only useful for pregnancies where there are issues concerning the oxygen flow to the baby. He said this was not the case in my pregnancy with Benjamin. For those of you that don't know what a NST (non-stress test) is, it is a test where you are hooked up to two monitors. One measures the baby's heart beat and the other measures your contractions. Then you are usually also given a little clicker that you press every time you feel a movement. They then can see how the baby's heart rate reacts to movement and to contractions, to see if it is in any sort of distress in the womb. You generaly are hooked up for about 15 minutes. So anyways, my doctor felt this was not going to be overly useful to us. I pointed out that we don't know why Benjamin's blood clotted. That for all we know it was a slow building clot. And if that was the case then a NST would have been useful because if his blood was clotting then it would have been flowing slower and therefore oxygen would not have been getting to him like it should have. A NST would have shown that. He agreed with that but then added that the blood clot could have been a sudden thing and a NST would not have been helpful. Whatever. He said that he would be sending me to the high risk OB who would decide the course of action. Basically the HR OB will make the decisions and my regular mat doctor will just follow through with his orders. So my mat doctor is the HR OB's bitch.

So last week I had my appointment with the high risk OB. It was a MUCH better appointment. I went in there with my list of what I wanted to happen.

1. I want routine NSTs.
2. I want at least one more ultrasound with the option of having more if they will give me some reassurance.
3. I want weekly visits with him.
4. I want an amnio at 36/37 weeks and to be induced as soon as the baby is ready.
5. When the induction is started I want to be admitted to the hospital until the baby is born (sometimes they start the process and send you home to do early labour at home).

I didn't even have to tell him my list. He was already planning to do almost all of that! He wants to see me weekly. He's scheduling me for weekly NSTs. I have an ultrasound tomorrow and possibly more after that.

As for the induction dates. He kept reminding me that we have to keep what happened with Benjamin fresh in our minds, but treat this pregnancy as what it is; a healthy uneventful pregnancy. So we have to do what is best for Thumper. I know all of this and obviously that is my first concern. But it's just so hard to truley believe that everything will work out well. To believe, without a doubt, that she will be born screaming. So he said that if any of the tests come back showing serious life-threatening concerns then we will get her out right away. If the tests all continue to be normal but I am having a really hard time (emotionally) then we can do an amnio around 36 weeks and induce if she is ready. Otherwise he will induce me around 37/38 weeks. He said that he will not make me go past 38 weeks. Phawoo!! That was such a relief to hear all of that. I just cannot imagine going much past 36 weeks. That is my breaking point I think.

Most people who have had a stillbirth or a pregnancy loss have that one special week. That week where it all went wrong. Through their pregnancy they aim for this week, thinking "if I can just get past xx week then it will all be okay". I've got the reverse. Everything was great until 36 weeks. So I feel more along the lines of "if I can just get to 36 weeks then it will be okay". After that week I feel like I am tempting fate. It's hard to think otherwise.

So last week I had my first NST of this pregnancy. Thumper wasn't cooperating very well and decided that was a great time to have a nap, lol! But her heart rate did fluctuate a lot. Apparently I didn't have any contractions the entire time I was hooked up to the monitors, which is odd because I have been having a lot of contractions the last few weeks. I go for another NST tomorrow so we'll see what happens at that one.

And that's my update.

Paranoia?

2009-07-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

I'm sure, based on my history, this is totally normal. Totally understandable and totally expected. But damn! I possibly have another 10 weeks of this? I will be 30 weeks on Friday. Thumper is getting bigger and probably going to start running out of room soon. I get that. I understand that I will feel less strong movements. I get that I will feel less intense kicks and more jabs or rolls. That doesn't mean I won't worry about it.

When I was pregnant with Benjamin I told my midwife numerous times that he wasn't as active as I thought he should be. 'Every pregnancy is different' 'every baby is different' 'Jackson was a very active baby, this baby is just more relaxed'. Blah blah blah. I knew all of this. I told myself all of this too. I'm sure it was all true. I'm sure that's all it was. There was no reason to think that Benjamin would one day just stop moving all together. He was active and 'normal' right up until the day he died. There was no way to know that his life was in danger. Easy to tell myself that, not so easy to believe it.

A few times a day I find myself wondering if Thumper is as active as she 'should' be. If I haven't felt much movement for a while I almost convince myself that she is dead. It's a horrible thing to do, but it happens just the same. If she's not moving very much, or if she isn't kicking strongly I convince myself it's because she's weak from poor blood flow. I have no reason to think that her blood isn't flowing properly. No reason to think that there is anything wrong. But then again, I didn't last time either.

Ten weeks of this left. Ten weeks. Ten weeks to wonder if today is going to be the day. Will I wake up and realize that she hasn't been moving? Will I wonder when the last time she moved was? Will I have to face that nightmare again? As gut wrenching as it is, at least I know now that I could handle it. Plus I'm prepared for it this time. How sad is that? How sad is it that I am prepared to find out my baby has died? Where is the blissful naivity of my first pregnancy? Or hell, even my second pregnancy? It makes me sad (and mad) to know that Thumper doesn't get that. She doesn't get the excitement and joy that her mommy should feel when she thinks about the day she will be born. Instead she gets doubt and guarded optimism (as fake as it sometimes feels). She gets a closet full of clothes and diapers hidden from view, just in case the worst happens again. Better to have it all hidden away so that reminder doesn't smack me in the face when I come home with an empty womb and even emptier arms.

She doesn't deserve this. She deserves to be celebrated and joyously looked forward to. She deserves all the love and excitement that both her brothers got. I just wish I could whole-heartedly give it to her. I wish that I could look to October and actually imagine her in my arms, alive and screaming.

On another depressing note... July 11th passed by without a single tear. July 18th did not. I was on vacation, visiting family for the past few weeks. On July 11th I was at my parents cottage, having a nice day. It never dawned on me that Benjamin would have been 8 months old that day. I didn't acknowledge his monthly birthday. I didn't spend part of the day thinking about what should have been. I didn't mourn him. And when I realized that on July 18th, a full week later, I was horrified. How could I have not realized it? How could I have let the day pass without thinking about him every minute? I felt like I had let him down, like I didn't care enough. Like I wasn't mourning him properly. I know it's irrational, but I could not stop myself from thinking those thoughts. I still feel guilty and sad about that.

::sigh::

2009-06-29T14:51:00.000-07:00

I had a prenatal appointment today. Everything looks good. Thumper is doing well, I'm doing well, everything is just peachy. And yet, in the middle of the appointment that little nagging bit of doubt crept in there and I had to take a moment to compose myself.

I am 25 weeks pregnant. The baby is roughly 1.5 pounds. Still tiny. I was concerned because the last few times I've used my doppler to listen to her heartbeat it has fluctuated from a strong fast beat to a slower fainter beat. I know that's normal. I know that. But it still freaks me out a bit because the theory is that Benjamin died from a blood clot caused by him compressing his cord. So when Thumper's heart rate slows I just imagine it's because she's planted herself on her cord and is compressing it. And then she'll get a blood clot and die. That is immediately where my mind goes. Even tho, logically, I know it's normal. All babies compress their cords. And most do live.

My doctor assured me that Thumper is still too small to compress her cord. That fluctuations are totally normal. As long as her heart rate is speeding back up quickly then she's fine. That if the heart rate stays below 100 for any length of time then I should be concerned. But basically he told me that, at this point, there is no cause for alarm. Then he went on to state that what happened to Benjamin was a total fluke, like being struck by lightening, and it should not happen to one person more than once. He must have sensed my reaction to that statement because he went on to state that he knows I won't believe that until I am holding this baby safe and healthy in my arms. I just cannot put any faith in statistics and such. It wasn't supposed to happen once, why shouldn't it happen again.

Then I also got a copy of my files since I am going on vacation next week. I want to take a copy of my pregnancy files just in case I have to go to the hospital while I am away. Obviously I read the files, even though I knew there was going to be a lot of stuff on Benjamin in them. Right at the top it goes over my obstetrical history. It has Benjamin listed as 'induced fetal demise, breech'. And then under the heading for 'present health' it simply has N/A. Not applicable. Obviously I know that is true, but it's just so clinical and harsh. God how I wish it was applicable.

Then in the report from my high risk doctor I am referred to as a G3P1SA1. Curiosity got the better of me and I googled what that meant (damn Google!). G means Gravita, which means woman. The 3 is for 3 pregnancies. P is for Para, which is used for the number of previous successful live births. And SA is for Spontaneous Abortions. So in those short 7 characters you can see that I have had 3 pregnancies, one 'successful live birth' and one 'spontaneous abortion'. A spontaneous abortion? Doesn't that sound nice. So clean and clinical. Now I realize these reports cannot be all compassionate and gloss over the cold hard facts, but damn! That just sounds horrible! Let's hope in October I become a G3P2SA1!

The report went on to state that I should be seen more frequently during this pregnancy for various reasons, including emotional support. "She indeed got pregnant very soon after she lost her baby last November and as a result of that is up for a very emotional, stressful rollercoaster during this pregnancy. There was just no time for her to have grieved properly the recent loss of her baby". Ummm..... I thought there was no right and wrong way to grieve? I thought time would NOT heal all wounds? I thought every one grieved on their own time line? Who's to say this isn't the best way for me to grieve. Who's to say that I am not grieving every freaking day, regardless of the fact that I am pregnant! Who's to say that if I had waited to get pregnant that would not have been harder on me? I want more children. I want a living, breathing, crying, healthy freaking baby in my arms! That does not, in any way, diminish the loss I feel for my son! I can mourn him and at the same time try to be hopeful for this baby. They are not mutually exclusive. I understand that this pregnancy is going to be very emotional and stressful. I think even if I had waited months, or years, it would have been very emotional and stressful. Time will not change that. Time will not erase the pain of losing Benjamin. It will not make the hurt and disbelief that it happened or the belief that it might happen again go away. I will feel this way for every pregnancy I have, regardless of how much time I have had to grieve my sweet baby Benjamin.

I washed all my baby clothes this weekend. I had a bunch that a friend gave to me before she moved. They are all boy's clothes. A bunch of them had small stains on them because her son was a big spitter-upper and was on medication for it that stained clothes. I was able to get almost all the stains out, which I was very pleased about because the clothes are really cute. I also washed the big bag of girl clothes my sister handed down to me. Most of them are 12 months or older. So if Thumper is indeed a girl she's going to be wearing a whole lot of blue, lol! But I'll wait to go shopping until I get a better indication of the gender of this stubborn little baby! I go for another ultrasound on August 5th, so lets hope s/he is a little less modest at that scan!

So that's my update for today.

A trip to labour and delivery

2009-06-15T20:05:00.000-07:00

I think this might have been #1 of potentially many trips to labour and delivery for me this pregnancy. For a few days last week I had been crampy but had just attributed it to doing too much around the house. Then on Friday afternoon I was out grocery shopping and got pretty intense heart palpitations and then everything went black. I didn't actually pass out but it left me dizzy and shaky. As soon as I was done shopping I went to work to see Brian. After discussing it for a while we decided that I should go to L&D, just to be safe.

I was terrified to go. I wasn't worried that there would be any problems with Thumper since she was moving around like crazy all day. I was just terrified that they would put me in assessment room #1. That's where I went when my blood pressure was through the roof with Jackson and that's where I went when they told me Benjamin had died. That room is not a good room for me. I could not bear the thought of going into that room again after the last time I was in there.

As soon as I got to the nurses station I started bawling. I just knew they would tell me to go in that room. They guessed that I thought I was in labour. I said no but couldn't get anything else out. Then they told me to go to Assessment room #1. I immediately said 'no, I don't want to go in that room' and I think with the fear in my voice and the sobbing they figured out right away not to put me in there. Instead they sent me to room #3.

Room #3 is a fantastic room for me. The best room on the floor. I would happily spend every day of this pregnancy in that room. That was the room that Jackson was born in. That is the room that wonderful, amazing, awe-inspiring things happen in. That is the room that I became a mom in. ONLY good things can happen in that room.

I told the nurse why I was there and what my history is. I told her about Benjamin. She was wonderful, as I'm suspecting all the nurses at this hospital are. The doctor came in and took my full history, then started checking me out. They listened to the baby's heart beat (152 bpm), they checked my blood pressure (a bit high, but I think it was just the anxiety from being there), they checked my blood oxygen level, they ran blood work, they even did an EKG. They were very very thorough. The doctor said that he was probably being overly cautious and doing some unnecessary tests, but with my history they'd rather be overly thorough than miss something. Everything came back normal. They don't know why I was crampy or why I almost blacked out. But I am fine now.

I am glad that I went though. They were so wonderful to me. The nurse told me that I would never be seen as a bother or anything, that they would rather see me every day for the rest of this pregnancy than miss that one time that I should have come in. They only want me to have a healthy screaming baby at the end of this. It gave me so much reassurance to know that any time I feel off in the slightest that I should not hesitate to go to l&d. Normally I have a problem with that. I hate feeling like I am inconveniencing people or overreacting to something. But they made me feel better about it, helped me understand that I have every right to react strongly to any concerns this pregnancy. And they totally made me feel welcome there.

And the nurse put it on my chart that I am not to be seen in Assessment Room #1. I would rather be seen in the hall than go back in that room. Phawoo.

A good day

2009-06-07T22:29:00.000-07:00

I started a support group with another mom that lost a baby. We've had a few meetings now and seem to get a new member every month. That sounds impressive but considering we've only been having meetings for 3 months now that just means that there are now 5 members of our group, lol. At our last meeting we were talking about giving birth. One of the members was talking about how she's only had cesarean sections and really wants to experience a vaginal birth. That got all of us talking about giving birth and all the positive experiences and feelings of it. For the first time this pregnancy I had flutterings of excitement.

I love giving birth. I am one of those odd women that enjoys going into labour, going through the hours of labour leading up to the birth, and then that glorious moment when the baby first comes out and you feel that sudden change. That change from being one being with your baby to suddenly having them out in the world, out into your arms. Where you can look at them, kiss them, hold them in your arms and just be in pure utter awe of them. All the hours of discomfort, pain, excitement and fear just dissipate in that moment. And there he is, your baby, your glorious baby.

My labour and delivery with Jackson was textbook. It had it's moments of worry but all in all it was a beautiful experience. My labour and delivery with Benjamin was as good as it could have been given the circumstances. I still had that moment when he first came out and I got to see him. Granted it was bittersweet, but it was still that moment that you wait for. That moment to finally see the little bean that has been kicking, punching, rolling, and hiccuping away inside of you. To finally see face to face who you've gotten to know over those past few months.

So on Friday I finally had that excitement. That flutter in my gut and in my heart when I thought about when Thumper would be born. I was actually able to imagine that moment when Thumper becomes his/her own separate entity and the doctor places him/her on my chest and I can just gaze at the glory that is my new baby. I'm not ready yet to imagine that the baby that is placed on my chest will be living, breathing and screaming, but I know I'll get there.

It was a good day.

How are babies made?

2009-05-29T12:02:00.000-07:00

Obviously I know how a baby is made. But how is it possible for a perfect little baby to be born. Alive. With all it's limbs, fingers, toes, internal organs, etc. How is it possible for a baby to stay in the safe comforting womb for 9 months and then be born? Healthy? With no medical issues? It just blows my mind.

Ever since Benjamin was born I have spent some time on different grief support boards on the internet. It shocks and saddens me to read so many personal accounts of 'what should have been' turning into 'what should never happen'. There is so much sadness and so many young lives lost before they even truly began. It just doesn't make sense.

What amazes me more than the mind blowing number of losses is the fact that there are SO many healthy babies born. When I was pregnant with Benjamin I was a member on an expecting club on the internet. All these women were due in December too. On that board there were many women who left our group early in their pregnancies. You expect this. Any pregnant woman knows the rough estimates of early miscarriage. You know that almost a quarter of all known pregnancies will end in an early miscarriage. This knowledge does not make an early loss any less devastating and in fact it really increases the anxiety during the first critical couple weeks. On this particular board there were well over a hundred woman (I have no idea how many there really were, but it seemed like a ton!). By the beginning of January everyone had had their babies. Of all these women there was one baby that died very shortly after birth (Ruby), another that died three and a half days after birth (Bregan), and one stillborn (Benjamin). Way too many losses, but amazing to think that out of all these women there were *only* three babies that lost their lives too early. How the hell did so many babies make it?

There are so many things that can go wrong in a pregnancy. So many things that can go wrong during the labour and delivery. So many things that can go wrong in the days following birth. And then don't even get me started on the whole SIDS topic. It amazes me that Jackson has made it to 2 years (tomorrow!) with no lasting problems. How did we make it? Even though I know the odds are that a baby will be born healthy and living, it still feels like we defied the odds with him. Like we are lucky as all get-out that he is with us.

I had a doctor appointment the other day with a fill-in doctor and we got to talking about all my pregnancies. I told her about when Jackson was born and how he had severe jaundice and how the doctors thought it must have been a blood incompatibility issue for his bili levels to be that high. But then I had no antibodies, so it was rare that his levels got that high. Then with Benjamin dying from blood clots in his cord, with neither Brian nor I having blood clotting issues. So it was incredibly rare for that to have happened at all. Then with this baby having the cyst on it's brain. Not incredibly rare, but only 1-3% of all fetus' have them. You know, I'd really like a pregnancy that is normal. I'm not looking for rare cases and having 'special' pregnancies. Just a plain ole run of the mill pregnancy would suit me just fine thanks.

A difficult week

2009-05-13T12:23:00.001-07:00

This week has been hard. Surprisingly hard.

Sunday was Mother's Day. I thought about Benjamin a lot, thought about how this is the first Mother's Day that I am a mother to two boys. Yet only one of them was there to celebrate it with me. To give me kisses and hugs. It just wasn't right. But it was still a good day. Brian and Jackson gave me a present for the day. It was a big Ficus Benjamina. A perfect gift for the day.

Monday was six months since Benjamin was born. The day hit me like a ton of bricks. I was fine for the morning but as the day wore on it just got harder and harder to resist crawling into bed and just crying the day away. I couldn't stop thinking about how our lives should have been that day. He should be perfecting sitting up, babbling at me with his chubby little face, grabbing at me with his chubby little hands. He should have been having his first taste of solid foods. I should have been taking his 6 month birthday photo. It just was not right that he was not here to do all the things. It's unreal to me that he has been gone for six months. Half a year. That is just too long. I can't believe I have made it this long without him. It surprises and slightly saddens me that I don't seem to mourn him as badly as I used to. I know it's 'normal' and I know it's healthy but it still just seems wrong somehow. Like I've moved on and put him in my past. And that's not true. He's still a big part of my life, a big part of my thoughts and he always will be. Time will never change that.

Tuesday I had my 'big ultrasound'. When the ultrasound technician started the scan she focused on checking my cervix and the placenta and all that. I immediately asked her to please first find the baby's heartbeat. I needed to see that first. A big part of me was terrified that the baby would not have a heartbeat. But s/he did and it was beating strong and healthy. Everything about the baby looks good except for one tiny issue. The baby has a cyst on the brain. Apparently it is quite common (1-3% of all fetus' have them) and not harmful at all. The only concern with them is that there is a slight correlation between these cysts and Trisomy 18 and 21. In most cases the cyst just disappears on it's own by the third trimester. I have my doctor appointment tomorrow so we'll go over this then. I will also be getting my blood screening tests back tomorrow which will tell me my odds of this baby having T18 or T21. And my gestational diabetes tests will also be back. It's going to be a full appointment.

Friday is Brian and my 5th anniversary. Five years. That's a long time and yet it feels like I have known and loved him for many more years than only five. We've been through so much and are such a stronger couple than I ever thought we would have to be. He knows just what to do when I am having a hard time. On Monday when I finally broke in the evening he just sat beside me and held me, letting me get his shirt soaked with tears and snot, lol! He didn't try to reason with me, didn't try to talk me down, just let me get it all out in my own time. Exactly what I needed him to do.

I also have another grief support group on Friday night. This is a group that Heather and I started. There is no support group for pregnancy and infant loss in our area. That amazed us and we felt there was such a need for one that we started it ourselves. We've had two meetings so far. The first meeting included the two of us and my friend that just lost her baby. The second meeting had the three of us and then another couple who lost their beautiful son to SIDS. This week we might have two new members. This is not the type of group that you think 'the more the merrier'. Every new member means that another baby has died. But I am so glad that we are all able to be there for each other. I know how alone a newly bereaved parent can feel.

So that's my week. Kinda sucks eh?

A good poem

2009-05-13T12:21:00.000-07:00

“A Pair of Shoes”

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are, might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes, you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

- Author unknown

How to tell Jackson

2009-04-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

I struggle with how or when to tell Jackson that he has a little brother. He never knew I was pregnant, never knew Benjamin was born or that he died. He sees his pictures on the side table. He sees me crying a lot. I know he understands that something sad happened. He visited me in the hospital.

I don't remember what I was doing the other day but I was at my computer and a photo of Benjamin came up unexpectedly. Jackson was sitting on my lap and I told him that the picture was of Benjamin. I told him that he was his little brother. I told him that Mommy misses him very much and that was why mommy cries a lot. And of course I started crying. He was concerned and said Mama about 20 times. I tried to pull it together but it's hard sometimes. I hate crying in front of him. I hate that he gets concerned. I hate that he doesn't know why I'm crying and sometimes takes it personally. I hate telling him that 'Mommy is sad'. But some days I am sad. Some days I just need to cry. Some days I can't hold it in until he is napping.

I want him to know all about Benjamin. I want him to know that he has a little brother. A little brother that didn't get a chance to live outside of me. But I don't want it to scare him. He's too little to know death that well. He's too little to be scared that another baby will die. I've got that covered enough for the both of us. I want him to be innocent and naive. I want him to know that I am pregnant now and to believe that in October he will have a little baby to fawn over.

But I am scared. I'm scared to tell him I'm pregnant. I'm scared to explain to him that I will be having a baby. I'm scared that if I tell him all of that and the worst happens again then I will have to tell him that horrid news. I am glad that he never knew I was pregnant with Benjamin. I'm glad I didn't have to look at his sweet face and tell him that his baby that he was so excited about was not going to come home with us. I'm glad that I didn't have to see him sad about it. My heart could not have taken that.

So now I just don't know what to do. I don't know when to tell Jackson that I am pregnant. I don't know when to tell him all about Benjamin. I don't know what is appropriate to tell a 2 year old and what is best left until they are older. I don't want to keep anything from him, but I don't want to unnecessarily burden him with sadness.

Eventually he'll know I'm pregnant. Hopefully that happens when he comes to visit me in the hospital with a screaming kicking baby in my arms.

And eventually he'll know all about Benjamin. When the time is right. Whenever that may be.

Enough already!

2009-04-24T09:54:00.000-07:00

I am annoyed. I am fed up and annoyed. I am sick of doctors changing their damn minds about what happened with Benjamin. I am beyond frustrated with thinking we have the answer and a game plan for this pregnancy and then finding out a few weeks later that what we thought was true is not true. I am sick of it all!

I mean, he died five and a half months ago! What new information could possible still come up to change the cause of death?? They found something new? No, he's been cremated. I just don't get it. I don't get it at all and I am fed up with it.

First we were told that it was an unknown reason. That we probably would never know the reason that his heart stopped.

Then we were told that his left lung had completely clotted off. That that was the cause of his death.

Then we were told that he had blood clots in his umbilical cord and at least one traveled to his lung and that was the cause of death. The doctors went a bet further and said that Benjamin's blood was thicker than it should have been and when he was compressing his cord (which all babies do) the blood pooled up behind the compression and clotted.

I was sent for a gazillion vials of blood to be taken to test for blood clotting disorders. We were told that I might have a blood clotting disorder that got passed to Benjamin. I was also told that it might have just been a fluke. That his blood might have just been thicker because of some sort of gene mutation.

All my blood work came back normal. I don't have any kind of disorder. So in my follow up appointment with the high risk doctor I was told that Benjamin's death was just a fluke. That his blood was not thicker than it should have been. That it just clotted because he was compressing the cord. So now his cause of death is beeing deemed a 'cord accident'.

I have a problem with this. "Cord accident" is what they say when they don't know why the baby died. It's a catch-all to explain any unexplained stillbirth. We know why Benjamin died. We know he had blood clots. They said his blood was thicker. Now they are saying it wasn't. How the hell do they know this? There is no way, at all, for them to know if it was thicker or not. When they told me it was thicker I assumed they were speaking factually, based on the autopsy findings. Apparently it was all a theory. A theory that I put a lot of weight into. It gave me something to believe. Something to calm and reassure me that this baby would be okay. I'm on a daily dose of aspirin to keep this baby's blood thin. I thought that was the magic answer. Apparently that might not be true.

Just so sick of this. You would think that your baby dies, you get an autopsy done, you get genetic testing done, you should have some answers. It should not keep changing every couple weeks. How the hell can it keep changing? Do they even know what the heck they are talking about?

At this point it wouldn't surprise me if they came back and said he didn't have blood clots, that they were looking at the wrong charts and he actually died from something totally different.

But really, whatever the reason for his death doesn't change much. He still died. I'm still pregnant again and scared shitless at times. I will still be demanding more care, more thorough checkups, closer monitoring, more hand holding. I don't think that's too much to ask.

Random thoughts and an announcement

2009-04-14T14:10:00.000-07:00

For the past 5 months there have been so many random thoughts, random reminders, random sucker punches. It's amazing how many things that seem so innocent and unimportant suddenly become so ridiculously apparent once you have lost someone.

For instance we watched that Benjamin Button movie the other day. Y'know the one where the person is born old and 'ages' younger? It was an odd, yet good, movie. The main character's name was Benjamin. I still cannot hear that name without getting a little choked up. But the clincher? The other main character's name was Daisy. Odd, right?

Another 'coincidence' was at Christmas when we bought one of those village houses that you can collect at Christmas. I opened the box and inside was a brochure for joining the collecting club. You have to pay for the membership and you get a 'free' collector's edition house. This year's house was "Benjamin's Watches". Of course it was. It took a lot for me not to join the stupid collector's club just so I could get that house. It seemed like some odd sign that I had to believe in.

Or anther time when Brian was moving some boxes for work. He had them all in the back of the van and when he opened the back door the box that was right at eye level was labeled 'Benjamin'. These were not our boxes and had absolutely no reason to be labeled that way.

And what is with all the people having stillbirths lately?? I know that I am hyperaware of them now, but it seems excessive. It seems like every week I hear of someone that has recently had a stillbirth, or their friend just had a stillbirth. It just happens way too often. Before I had Benjamin I never seemed to hear of it. I'm sure that was because it didn't affect me like it does now and so I just never paid as much attention then. That makes me sad. Sad to think that just because I never had a baby die, another mother's pain didn't mean as much to me. Like it wasn't important then. Now though, every time I hear a story of a mother losing a child it just cuts straight to my heart. I can vividly feel the pain they are going through, I can understand the turmoil they are in and the desperate wishing they are doing. I'm glad I can feel this now. I wish I could still be blissfully ignorant about it, but I am thankful that I can feel such empathy for others. I know they need it; need someone to understand and care. I know I needed it. Hell, I know I still need it.

We were visiting one of Brian's cousins this weekend. Stayed with them for the long weekend. It was a great trip. They didn't know very much about Benjamin. They knew he was stillborn, but that was basically all. I got to talk about him a lot this weekend. I need times like that. I need to be able to talk about him, tell more people about him. Keep his memory alive. It's all we've got of him.

As for the big announcement. Most of you already know, but I'll say it again. And then I'll obsess about it. I'm pregnant. Again. 14 weeks to be exact. I'm excited but I'm also scared shitless at times. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that there is no reason to believe that this baby will not be born alive. I had no doubt in my mind that Benjamin would be born alive in December and sitting on my lap Christmas day. I had the whole image worked out. Brian and Jackson would be sitting under the tree opening presents while I sat with the baby on the couch nursing him/her. We were going to be a happy little family of four. That hurt so much to not have happen. Christmas morning was tough because the image I so desperately wanted to play out never did. Instead we were both sitting at the tree with Jackson. It was still nice, but part of me just felt so empty.

So now I am supposed to be expecting to have another little baby come home with us in October. I'm due October 9th, but probably will be induced around 37 weeks, which would be around September 18th. I cannot bring myself to think in terms of 'when' but more in terms of 'if'. I know that is common among women who have gone through what I have. I wish I could go back to the blissfully ignorant days of my first pregnancy. Where I just thought everything would work out. No questions about it. I had the freaking nursery done at 25 weeks because I knew that the chances of the baby surviving at that gestational age were good! 25 weeks! As if the baby would be coming home to the nursery any time soon after the birth! So naive. So blissfully naive.

I am happy tho. We wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible. So far this pregnancy has gone smoothly. I have felt fine, so fine that it freaks me out because I don't feel pregnant. I am being monitored closely by my maternity doctor and a high risk OB. Everything is going as it should. Even the anxiety. It's hard to just 'relax and take it easy' when you have no point that you can just relax at. It's not like I have a magic week that I just have to make it past and then I can breath easier. I carried Benjamin to almost full term. By the time I make it to 34/36 weeks I'll be almost ready to deliver this baby. Where is the breathing easier there?

I just have to find a way to believe, honestly believe, that this baby is going to be fine and be born screaming bloody murder in another 23-26 weeks. I know all the stats, all the facts and all the logical reasons to think this baby will not be stillborn. I know all of that. Doesn't mean I know it in my heart tho.

Sadness

2009-04-08T12:46:00.001-07:00

A friend of mine is having her baby girl today. She is only 18 weeks pregnant. I am so heartbroken for her. Sad for what I know is ahead of her. Sad for the loss of the future she was so excited about, and sad for her as she faces this devastating new reality. I will be there for her in any way I can. As a mom who has gone through this hurt I feel the overwhelming urge to somehow make it easier for her. If I can provide some comfort, some compassion, some understanding, then it makes my loss a little more bearable. If losing my sweet baby Benjamin helps her find a way to cope with losing her sweet baby girl then I have done right by him.

I was at the store yesterday picking up some Easter chocolate for Jackson. I decided to look for a card for my friend. As I stood in the generic sympathy and thinking of you section I was disappointed with the selection. All the 'loss' cards talked about the happy memories you can hold onto, the years they spent touching our lives. What kind of card do you buy for a mom that is delivering her baby that will not create memories of their own? Where is the card for that? All the thinking of you cards were inadequate and trivial. Then I came across the card. The card that summed up this whole nightmare perfectly. The card that had me bawling in the aisles. Here is the poem in the card.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We are all creatures
of this great earth -
interconnected in ways
beyond understanding.

Take elephants.
So big.
So strong.
And yet,
when a member
of the herd passes,
even elephants mourn.
They gather around.
extend their trunks,
and gently touch
the tusks
of their fallen friend.
It's their ritual.
It's how they heal.
And it's sad.
And it's beautiful.

So maybe
what we're trying to say
is that the world
doesn't expect you
to be fine with this.

Be how you need to be.
Mourn how you need to mourn.

And know that
you're thought of
with love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And you are thought of with love today. As you face this nightmare that no mother should ever have to face. I am thinking about you all day, as I have for the past week and a half. Know that you are not alone. There are so many people that love you and that want to help you and be here for you, as you mourn. However you need to mourn.

17 weeks

2009-03-10T19:42:00.003-07:00

Can you all believe that 17 weeks ago was the worst time of my life? Doesn't that seem like forever ago? And yet just the other day? 17 weeks ago right now I was waiting in my room for them to bring Benjamin back to me for the first time. 17 weeks ago right now Heather was waiting to take the photos that I will cherish forever. 17 weeks ago my life changed dramatically. 17 weeks ago my faith in the future and all things good changed. 17 weeks ago I lost any innocence I had. 17 weeks ago I knew firsthand what true heartache felt like. 17 weeks ago I felt my heart and soul crumple into a little ball. 17 weeks ago I was wishing so hard that I was in a nightmare and not a new reality. 17 weeks ago I knew that I had changed forever.

BUT 17 weeks ago I got to meet and hold my precious sweet baby boy. 17 weeks ago we became two bodies instead of one. 17 weeks ago I got to meet this little being who had been growing inside of me. 17 weeks ago I got to feel like a new mommy all over again. 17 weeks ago I learned the greatest pain any mom can know. But 17 weeks ago I learned the greatest love any mom can know too. 17 weeks ago I had to say goodbye to my baby, my hopes, my plans for the future I had dreamed of. 17 weeks ago I got to kiss his sweet head, caress his soft hair, and hold his precious little hands. 17 weeks ago I got to physically be his mom.

But for the last 17 weeks I have got to carry him in my heart. For 17 weeks I have got to look at his sweet photos and remember his gorgeous physical body. For 17 weeks I have been able to close my eyes and remember the feel of his hair, the feel of his skin. For 17 weeks I have been able to feel the consuming love for him in my heart. For 17 weeks I have been his mommy. He may not physically be here with me, but he will always be in my heart. For the past 17 weeks and for every week I have left in my life.

I love you Benjamin.

The true list

2009-03-10T19:42:00.001-07:00

I came across this list on a message board I go on. It left me a sobbing mess but hit home with how true it is.

1. I wish you would not be afraid to mention my babies. The truth is just because you never saw my babies doesn't mean they don't deserve your recognition.

2. I wish that if we did talk about my babies and I cried you didn't think it was because you have hurt me by mentioning my babies. The truth is I need to cry and talk about my babies with you. Crying and emotional outbursts help me heal.

3. I wish that you could talk about my babies more than once. The truth is if you do, it reassures me that you haven't forgotten and that you do care and understand.

4. I wish you wouldn't think that I don't want to talk about my babies. The truth is I love my babies and need to talk about them.

5. I wish you could tell me you are sorry my babies died and that you are thinking of me. The truth is that it tells me you care.

6. I wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me. The truth is the memory of my babies, the love I feel for my babies, the dreams I had and the memories I have created for my babies are all loving memories. Yes there are bad memories too but please understand that it's not all like that.

7. I wish you wouldn't pretend that my babies never existed. The truth is we both know I had babies growing inside me.

8. I wish you wouldn't judge me because I am not acting the way you think I should be. The truth is grief is a very personal thing and we are all different people who deal with things differently.

9. I wish you wouldn't think if I have a good day I'm "over it" or if I have a bad day I am being unreasonable because you think I should be over it. The truth is there is no "normal" way for me to act.

10. I wish you wouldn't stay away from me. The truth is losing my babies doesn't mean I'm contagious. By staying away you make me feel isolated, confused and like it is my fault.

11. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be "over and done with" in a few weeks, months, or years for that matter. The truth is it may get easier with time but I will never be "over" this.

12. I wish you wouldn't think that my babies weren't really babies and they were blood and tissue or a fetus. The truth is my babies were human lives. My babies had a soul, heart, body, legs, arms and a face. I have seen my babies' body and face. My babies were real people - and they were alive.

13. My babies due date, Mothers Day, celebration times, the day my babies were born and the days I lost my babies are all important and sad days for me. The truth is I wish you could tell me by words or by letter you are thinking of me on these days.

14. I wish you understood that losing my babies has changed me. The truth is I am not the same person I was before and will never be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to get back to "normal" you will stay frustrated. I am a new person with new thoughts, dreams, beliefs, and values. Please try to get to know the real me-maybe you'll still like me.

15. I wish you wouldn't tell me I could have another baby. The truth is I want the babies I lost and no other baby can replace them. Babies aren't interchangeable. Besides, you do not know whether we have fertility problems too.

16. I wish you wouldn't feel awkward or uncomfortable talking about my babies or being near me. When you do, I can see it. The truth is it's not fair to make me feel uncomfortable just because you are.

17. I wish you wouldn't think that you'll keep away because all my friends and family will be there for me. The truth is, everyone thinks the same thing and I am often left with no one.

18. I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women is uncomfortable for me. The truth is I feel jealous.

19. I wish you wouldn't say that it's natures way of telling me something was wrong with my babies. The truth is my babies were perfect to me no matter what you think nature is saying.

20. I wish you would understand what you are really saying when you say "next time things will be okay". The truth is how do you know? What will you say if it happens to me again?

Going Home

2009-03-10T19:41:00.001-07:00

So after The Pretty Nurse left the room with Benjamin I stood there glued to the spot for a moment. I felt okay with her taking him. I didn't have any desire to cling to her leg and cry for her not to take him. I was okay. I had said all I wanted to say, done all I could do. I was still heartbroken, of course, but I knew this was the way it had to be. I knew I should get my room packed up, have a shower, and leave the hospital. Go home to Jackson. Part of me felt like I *should* get back in bed and cry for a while. Like I should still be mourning out loud. But I couldn't. I didn't feel I needed to. I would find in the coming days I experienced this a lot. This feeling that I *should* be feeling a certain way, but actually not feeling that way. It was as if I had read all about the 'proper' grieving timeline and I wasn't following it. It made me feel like I wasn't mourning my baby the right way, or not enough. But I can't, and shouldn't, force myself to cry if I didn't feel the need. There would be plenty of times that I would feel the need.

So I had a shower. As I stood in the cramped hospital shower I let the water pelt my face and wondered why I wasn't crying. Why did my heart not physically ache as much? Why were the tears not flowing? Why was I not doing the gut wrenching sobs? Was there something wrong with me? Did I not love him enough? Did I not miss him enough? Had I not wanted him enough? Deep down I knew this was stupid. I knew how much I loved, wanted and missed him. I knew that it was okay to have moments of okay, even moments of happiness. But it still bothered me. I always imagined that I would never get over the loss of a child; never be able to function normally again. And here I was, moments from handing my baby over to a nurse, never to see him again. And I was showering. And not crying.

After I got dressed and had my room all packed up Brian and his mom came back to get me. During my hospital stay we had received three bouquets of flowers. We had to carry these out of the hospital. The flowers were all beautiful arrangements. Colourful and large. Needless to say, we got compliments on them in the elevator and the hallway. People would comment on them in a happy tone; as if we had received them for a joyous occasion. It pissed me off. I had appreciated getting the flowers, don't get me wrong. But to carry these beautiful flowers out of the hospital instead of my baby; to get comments on how gorgeous the flowers were, instead of how gorgeous my baby was. This is what pissed me off. These well-meaning strangers had no idea of the hell I was in at that moment; had no idea what their comments were doing to me. I just had to get out of there. I was dreading leaving the hospital without Benjamin and this was not helping. I practically ran out of the elevator and out the front door. I could not get into the privacy of our car fast enough.

As I sat in the car, with a bouquet of white and green gerbera daisies on my lap, I cried. I did not want to be leaving the hospital without my baby. I remembered back to May 2007 when we left the hospital with Jackson for the first time. I remembered the joy and utter panic. I couldn't believe they were actually letting us take this baby home. That we were now solely responsible for him. Didn't they understand that we had no clue what we were doing? As we drove home that day so long ago we looked forward to the future. Our new life with our little boy.

This drive home was so much different. Brian and his mom sat in the front; me in the back. I cried the entire way home. It wasn't the gut-wrenching sobs or the painful lump in the throat kind of cry. It was the constant tears streaming down my face kind. Where it was just happening. My heart ached. Physically ached. I couldn't believe this was happening. I had imagined it so many times in the last few months. The drive home with my baby for the first time. Taking him home to our new life. This was not the scenario I had imagined. And it sucked.

Just a few days ago Brian's mom told me that on this drive home she saw a deer standing on the side of the road. There are a lot of deer around here but we are always in awe when we see them. It seems so surreal to just see them on the side of the road, we are used to Ontario where you only see them way out in the country, not on the side of a main road. Barbara said that neither Brian nor I saw it, and she didn't want to point it out. It was a big Buck and was just standing there proudly on the side of the road. I don't know what to do with this information. For some reason it feels important to me, in a symbolic sort of way. Usually I do not read into stuff like this, meaning like that is usually lost on me. Maybe that's why I don't know what to do with this information. It made me smile when she told me tho.

When we got back to our house my parents were there with Jackson. Jackson was very happy to see us and let me snuggle with him for a few minutes. I needed that. The first day home was so hard. I just kept looking beside my bed and thinking that the bassinet should be there. I was glad that we hadn't put the nursery together and hadn't pulled the bassinet out of storage. It was easier to deal with being home without all those physical reminders staring me in the face.

In the book I read, 'An Exact Figment of my Imagination', the author (Elizabeth McCracken) says "After most deaths, I imagine, the awfulness lies in how everything's changed: you no longer recognize the form of your days. There's a hole. It's person-shaped and it follows you everywhere, to bed, to the dinner table, in the car. For us what was killing was how nothing had changed. We'd been waiting to be transformed, and now here we were, back in our old life." This sums it up perfectly. When I read this it gave how I felt words, gave it meaning. That was exactly what the problem was. Here we were, back in our old life. Nothing had changed. We still were the parents of an amazing little boy, but only one amazing little boy. I had been pregnant and now I wasn't but all around us life was going on just as it was. There was no nursery to set up or put away. That room was still just Jackson's playroom. There was no extra laundry, no sleepless nights, no baby cries to be heard throughout the house. Everything was the same. There was no transformation from a family of 3 to a family of 4. And that hurt.

Over the next few days we came to terms with it. For the first couple days I had weird physical symptoms of grief. My chest hurt. I felt like there was always a weight on my chest, like I couldn't get a deep enough breath. My heart hurt too. It's weird how your heart can physically hurt from such a loss. I'd always thought that was just an expression, someone trying to make more out of a situation, be dramatic with their words. But it's true. My heart ached. It would stop me dead in my tracks on occasion. One day Brian, Barbara and I were talking about making quilts. She was asking if I would make her a queen size quilt for her bed. I told her that I only make lap quilts. Brian quipped in 'or baby quilts'. I started bawling. Such a random conversation and yet it caused immediate grief to me. (and yes, Brian felt horrible for his comment, even though it was completely innocent, lol).

Over the next week Barbara went home, then my mom went home, then my dad went home. The flowers stopped being delivered. The emails stopped coming. The phone calls slowed down. People were getting on with their lives. Still thinking about us, I'm sure, but they were continuing on with their normal day-to-day activities. We were happy for that. We are not the type of people that like being in the spotlight, the constant 'how are you doing?' and the constant attention was starting to make us uncomfortable. We appreciated it immensely, but we were ready to try to figure out our new life. We felt we had to.

These days we talk about Benjamin a bit less. Not because we don't think about him or because we are trying to 'forget' him. Just because we have to. What else is there to say about him? We love him, we miss him, we wish this had never happened, but there is nothing new to say. We've said all of that a million times. It's not going to change. I went looking for a photo album the other day for all of his photos. That was surprisingly hard. We have about 70 photos of him; ones Heather took, ones we took, my pregnancy photo, the ultrasound pictures. As I stood in the album aisle of the store I had to fight back the tears. I wanted an album that I could put every single picture in, whether the photo was a good one or not. I wanted every picture we had of him treasured. Some of the albums were too small. They would only hold 30 photos. Then other ones were too big, they were meant for many more photos than we had. I did not want blank pages in my album of Benjamin. There would never be new photos. I could never add to the album. This made me so sad. His entire existence was going to be in this album and most of them were too long. His life was just too short.

Jackson looks at Benjamin's photos all the time. I have a little collage of them by my computer. Jackson will come up to it and point at the photo and say 'baby'. I am teaching him to say 'Ben'. We do not, and probably will not, call him Ben. But 'Benjamin' is too hard and too long for Jackson to be able to say. So he can call his little brother Ben. He is the only one tho. That is his special name for his baby brother. His sweet little baby brother that he will never get to meet. At least not in the physical. Benjamin will always live on in his heart tho. He will know the story of Benjamin. He will know he has a sweet baby brother. And he will know of the love. You cannot know any of the story of Benjamin without knowing of the love. Because that is the most important part.

And I do love you, Benjamin. More than you could have ever known. It's not fair and it sucks. What I would give to have you in my arms right now. But that's not the way it is and I have come to terms with that. For the most part.

The purpose of this blog

2009-03-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot lately about why I am doing this blog. What I hope to achieve through writing it. Why I am sharing Benjamin's story in this way. A lot of people keep telling me that they are touched that I am sharing such a personal part of my life. That I am sharing so many private details. Sometimes I wonder if I am sharing too much.

I want people to know that stillbirth does happen. To anyone. It's not fair and it hurts like hell, but it does happen. I want people to have a better understanding of the experience; of the pain and heartache. But also of the love and happiness. It's so weird. Benjamin died. I never got a chance to properly meet him; to see him smile, hear him call me mama. And that makes me so sad sometimes that I just want to curl up and cry for hours. But I still got to have him in my life. And that? That makes me so happy. I got to have another son. A son that, as my dad put it, will always be my sweet baby boy. I will never see him grow up, but he will always be a beautiful perfect little baby. My little baby. And for that I am happy.

When I first decided to post the story of Benjamin, in it's entirety with photos and all, I discussed it with Brian. I would not have done it if he had not been okay with it. It's not just my personal private story. It is his too. Benjamin was his son too, and he hurts from this enormous loss too. It would not have been fair to me to share all of this without his consent. At first he had a hard time with it. He felt it was too personal, or too morbid, or something. He's not so good at putting this into words, lol. He was very uncomfortable with sharing photos of Benjamin. I think he felt that people would only see photos of a dead baby, not of our son. I understood his concerns, but to me I wanted people to get to know our son; and I felt doing this would accomplish that. If Benjamin had been born alive this entire blog would have been filled with photos of him, of him with Jackson, of stories of his birth, stories of his first smile, his first steps, his first laugh, his first everything. It made me sad to think that we wouldn't share anything of him. I explained all of this to Brian and he agreed. He is okay with me posting all the story. I'm not sure if he reads it when I update it, and I'm okay with that. He knows the story well.

Stillbirth is a strange thing. It's like some secret society. Before I had Benjamin I never really heard about women having stillborn babies. It wasn't something that was talked about. Since I have gone through it I have found that nearly everyone I talk has either had a stillbirth or has someone close to them that has. The nurse at the hospital, the woman at the engraving kiosk in the mall that made Benjamin's ornament for me, relatives, close friends of mine, my neighbour, the local librarian. It's like they just come out of the woodwork. Why are these women not talking about it? I know that a lot of people cannot talk about their experiences; it's too painful for them. I'm not sure why I am able to talk about it so freely, but I am glad that I can. I am glad to be able to share my story. I hope that it sheds some light on the topic. Allows people who have never had a stillbirth to, in some small way, experience the heartache and happiness involved. I hope it increases awareness and increases compassion for this type of birth. If it moves anyone reading my story to help other women going through this then it makes me very happy to share my pain.

I have this dream of publishing my story. Writing a memoir. After Benjamin was born a friend of mine sent me a link to an excerpt from a memoir written by a lady who had a stillborn son. I read the excerpt days after I got home from the hospital. It was amazing. It was like this woman was writing my thoughts. She was telling her story in such a way that you could feel the love and the happiness. Sure, you could definitely feel the heartache and the despair, but it wasn't all about that. I have skimmed other books on stillbirth and they are all about the mourning and the pain and sadness. They rarely talk about the consuming love and joy in having your child; getting to still have him in your life. I went out a few days later and bought the book. I read the entire thing in a weekend. It was a fantastic book and I definitely recommend it to anyone, whether you have had a stillbirth or not. Here is a link to her book info http://www.elizabethmccracken.com/ Recently I emailed her to tell her how much I appreciated her book. She actually emailed me back today and is a very sweet lady.

I'm not sure if I would ever pursue publishing my story. I don't even have a clue how to go about doing that. I just know that I want other women who have gone through this experience to know that they are not alone. That there can be joy again after your world comes crashing down. I want them to know my story and know that, even though the experience was by far the worst of my life, it was also a joyous occasion. My son was born and I got to hold him and kiss him and see him.

There are so many things I want to do from this experience. So many thoughts and plans and dreams. I know I won't accomplish all of them, and even if I only do one or two of them at least I have made a difference in the lives of other moms who are hurting. I have donated a cd player/radio to the room I was in. I hope that it helps to block out the noise of the fetal heart monitors in the neighbouring room. I have donated boxes of tissues to that room since the hospital issued ones are inadequate (to say the least). I have donated notebooks for the moms to write their thoughts. A pad of lined paper and pens so they can write a letter to their babies.

So anyways, that's why I have posted Benjamin's story. That's why I am sharing so much personal information. I want people to know. Know the story of Benjamin. Know the experience of a stillborn. I want to help other women that have gone through this, or are going through this. I want to break out of the secret society. I don't want there to be such shame, such silence about these beautiful babies. Our sons and daughters deserve to have their lives known and celebrated. It's unfair that they didn't get to be born alive, and it's unfair that people don't hear of their short lives. I am able to share the story of my son's life, as I know many other people are unable to do. I hope, in some way, it helps to make their child's life known too.

The days following his birth

2009-03-10T19:37:00.001-07:00

I was allowed to stay at the hospital for as long as I felt I needed to. I'm sure at some point they would have kicked me out, but I decided that I wanted to stay until my milk came in. I knew that was going to be a very hard day for me. I breast fed Jackson until he was 9 months old. I had wanted to continue until he was 12 months (at least) but he went on a nursing strike at 9 months and I got bad advice from my doctor. By the time I realized that it was just a nursing strike, not self-weaning my milk had dried up. I did everything I could to get my milk supply back up but once it was Jackson refused to nurse. He had discovered how great the bottle was, he got to be lazy about eating and was not going back to the boob, lol! So breastfeeding for me had been such an important thing for me and during my whole pregnancy with Benjamin I was really looking forward to nursing again. So I knew that when my body produced milk it would be very emotionally painful to me. Here was my body finally producing milk again, without medications, without constant pumping, and I had no use for it. No baby to nurse. Plus when the milk comes in, so do the postpartum hormones. So I was staying in the hospital until my milk came in. I wanted to be able to be there and stay in bed crying if I felt I needed that. I didn't want to be home where I had to get out of bed, where I had to be a functioning mommy to Jackson.

I was also dreading the moment that I had to say my final goodbye to Benjamin. I didn't know how I was going to do that. How do you hold your baby for the last time, knowing you will never see his body again. Never feel the weight of his body. Never get to kiss his forehead again. Never get to feel his skin against yours. How do you do that? If someone had been able to tell me how to prepare for that and how to accept that reality I would have been very appreciative. Unfortunately no one can prepare you for that. We had Benjamin brought to our room a few times on Tuesday and Wednesday. Brian felt that he had already said his goodbyes to Benjamin and as he put it, they 'were good'. He told him everything he wanted to and felt at peace with it. I did not. I could not bear the thought of watching a nurse take him out of the room for the last time. I thought it would break me. That I would be clinging to that nurses leg wailing and sobbing at her not to do it; not to take my baby away from me.

Thursday morning came. I had decided Wednesday night that I had to go home on Thursday. I was just delaying the inevitable. I could not stay in the hospital forever. Being there was not going to change the fact that I still had to go home and resume some form of a normal life. I still had an amazing toddler at home that needed his mommy. I still had a life outside the hospital. I remember saying so many times to Brian "I don't like this new reality; this new life". It's true. I wanted so badly to go back to my previous happy pregnant self. I didn't want to be the mom of a dead baby. The horror story that pregnant women fear. The woman that people pity and are scared to talk to for fear that somehow my 'affliction' will rub off on them. My baby was dead and I hated that fact more than I have ever hated anything. I just wanted my old life back.

Brian's mom flew in on Thursday. He went to the airport to get her and while he did I wrote a letter to Benjamin. I wanted to remember all the details of my pregnancy with him. All the details of his birth and the following days. I wanted to remember exactly how I was feeling, the pain, the love, everything. I wrote 6 pages. But still it didn't feel like enough.

Once Brian and his mom came back we asked the nurses to bring Benjamin back. This was going to be the last time we saw him. I was scared of how he would look. The last time we had seen him (Wednesday afternoon) he was starting to deteriorate a lot. He was starting to look like a little old man, all wrinkly and puckered. It was not how he should look. And he was starting to smell. That broke my heart. I was scared that Barbara (Brian's mom) would be horrified by him. I knew, deep down, that she wouldn't be; he was her grandson after all. But I was just worried that she wouldn't be able to see the beauty that he was. When he was brought into the room the nurse handed him to me and I held my sweet boy. Then I handed him to Barbara. She held him and cried. I was so thankful that both of Benjamin's grandmas got to hold him and his little body got to feel the love and warmth of their hearts. I can't say more about that, it just brings me to tears.

Before Benjamin had been brought in we had been talking about how I wanted to donate my breastmilk to a milk bank. I had been debating this idea for the last few days and decided that I did want to do it. I hated the thought that my body would produce milk and I would just let it dry up. If my baby couldn't have my milk I wanted some other baby that needed it to benefit from it. It was something good that could come out of this nightmare. There is a milk bank in Vancouver and I had already found a brochure about it in the maternity ward. Brian's mom offered to buy us a breast pump, which was amazingly generous and very appreciated.

After Barbara said her goodbye to Benjamin Brian held him again and said his goodbye. Then he placed him back in my arms. The two of them left to go and pick up the breastpump. This was it. This was the last time I would hold Benjamin. I wrote this a few days after I got home from the hospital. Some of it I have already typed again here, but I cannot type it all again, so I'm just posting it here.

Saying Goodbye

The day I had been dreading was finally here. The last time I would see and hold my sweet baby Benjamin. I was terrified. I was so scared I wouldn’t be able to let him go, that it would just be too hard, too painful. That it would just hurt too much.

Barbara had just arrived a little while before we were to see Benjamin again. We wanted her to be able to hold him and meet him. I was worried that his little body would have deteriorated a lot since the last time we saw him. I was worried that he wouldn’t look like himself at all, that it would be hard to look at him. That it would be hard for Barbara to see how perfect and beautiful he actually was.

The nurse brought him into the room. She had reswaddled him and I was so thankful for that. She was one of the best nurses on the floor and when I thanked her for redoing his blankets she was so matter-of-fact about it. Simply said ‘of course I did’. The last time we had seen him he was sinking really far into his blankets and was looking so small and was getting hard to see. Now he looked proud and big again, the way he should look.

My fears about how he looked were somewhat confirmed. His face was a lot more drawn in and wrinkly. He looked like a little old man, not the beautiful baby he was. But he was still Benjamin. He still had the adorable little nose, beautiful lips, dark hair, and creased little eyes. I didn’t care how he looked, how he smelled. I got to hold him again, and just feeling his weight in my arms and getting to pat his bum and rub his back and touch his face and hair… That’s what I needed, that’s what was important.

Barbara held him for a little while, she cried, she said it wasn’t fair. That’s all anyone can say. That it’s not fair. It isn’t fair. He should not have died. It should not have happened. I am having a hard time accepting that it did happen. That it’s not fair but it’s how it is. My sweet baby is dead and it sucks, but I got to know him for 36 weeks and I got to hold him many times after he was born and no one can take that from me.

After Barbara said her goodbye Brian held him for a while. He felt he had already said goodbye, had already said all he needed to say. He handed Benjamin back to me and he and his mom left the room so I could say and do all I needed to do.

It was hard, God it was so hard. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much I wanted to share with him. This was going to be my only chance to tell him everything face to face. I already had gotten into the habit of talking to his picture every morning and randomly through the day just talking to him, but this was the last time I could gaze at his beautiful face and talk to him.

As I sat on the bed cradling my sweet Benjamin I told him how much I loved him, how much this was not fair, how much he was loved by everyone, how many people he had touched and how many people were saddened by his death. I told him how great a life he would have had, how I hoped that the short life he did have was good. How I hoped he had felt nothing but love and security. I sat and just looked at him and patted his bum and rubbed his back. I did forehead-nose-chinny chin chin on him. This was something that we have done with Jackson since he was born and I always imagined doing it on Benjamin, and watching Jackson do it on him too.

Then I sang him our bedtime songs. I sang him ‘Douglas Mountain’ and ‘Mr.Moon’. I kept messing up the lyrics because I was so caught up in watching him, but he already knows the lyrics. He listened to me singing them for 36 weeks already as I rocked Jackson to sleep every night. Then I sang him ‘Boom Boom Ain’t it Great to be Benjamin’. That song was the one song that would calm and relax Jackson when he was a baby. No matter what was going on it made everything better for Jackson. I hope it had the same effect on Benjamin. I hope that if he was somehow there with me in that horrible hospital room that he could hear that song and feel safe and loved.

I wanted nothing more than to lay down with him beside me in my arms and snuggle with him. Those were the best times when Jackson was a baby. While Benjamin and I laid there I told him all about his brother and all about his daddy. I told him what a great big brother Jackson would have been to him, how he would have taught him so much and how Benjamin would have looked up to him. I told him how much Jackson would have loved him and how much he would have loved Jackson. I told him what a fantastic dad his Daddy was, how much he loved him and how badly he wanted him. I told him he would have had a great life, full of love. I told him that even though he had not had a chance to live outside of me that he has forever changed our lives. That his dad and I were arguing a lot lately but he has brought us closer, he has made us stronger, and we are so thankful for that. He has helped this family and brought us back to how we should be. He will always be such an important part of this family.

I told him that his Daddy and I will go on to have more children when we are ready. That this in no way means we are replacing him; that we could never replace him. He will always be my second born son, my sweet baby boy. All of our children will know about him, they will know they have another brother who is not with us. They will know his name, they will see his pictures, they will feel the love we have for him.

I showed him outside, held him in the sunlight for a few moments. I wanted him to feel the warmth, I wanted to see him in the sunlight. I showed him the flowers we had received. I wanted to show him the beauty that there was in the world. I wanted him to see and feel nature.

I held him for a few more minutes and told him how much I loved him, how much I would always love him, how special and important he was to me. How much I would miss him but that I would eventually not cry as much or be as sad but that did not mean I didn’t love him anymore or miss him any less, it just meant that I was coming to peace with the unfairness of it all. I would always think of him and always have a huge place in my heart for my sweet baby Benjamin.

I felt ready. I buzzed for the nurse. The pretty nurse came in to get him. She was the youngest nurse there and one of the most compassionate ones. I was able to joke around her and cry around her and she would adjust to however I was feeling. She was a great nurse, I was glad it was her I was handing him over to for the last time. She came over and stood beside me for a few moments, just rubbing my back and told me he was beautiful. I talked to him a little bit more and told him I loved him so much. Then I kissed his forehead and told her I was ready. She asked me if I was sure and I was. I knew I had to say goodbye at some point and I knew I had said everything I had wanted to say. I felt a sense of peace and comfort with him. I knew I didn’t want to see his little body deteriorate any more. I knew it was time. I placed him in her arms and kissed his forehead one last time and tucked the blankets all around him. She gave me a little hug and took him out of the room.

It was hard, but not as hard as I thought it would be. I felt good about it. I felt it was the perfect goodbye to my sweet Benjamin.

And that's all for today's post. I think that's enough for today. I don't know about you, but now I'm a sobbing mess.

The delivery room

2009-03-10T19:34:00.000-07:00

After we had spent quite a bit of time holding Benjamin Susan came back into the room and got us ready to go back to our room on the Ante Partum wing. She helped me get into the wheelchair and get all of the stuff we had brought into the room for the delivery, which was not much. We were expected to leave Benjamin in the room while we made the move and a nurse would bring him to our room after. Brian would have nothing to do with this. I was still a little out of it, so I wasn't really sure what was going on. Brian decided to stay in the room with Benjamin. There was no way he was going to leave our baby in the room all alone, it didn't matter that he wasn't alive, that was just not right! So Brian stayed with him while I went back to our room. Later he told me that during this alone time with Benjamin he talked to him and told him everything he wanted to say, he showed him outside and what little sunlight there was on the dark rainy day. He kissed his forehead and said his goodbyes. This makes me cry. I can only imagine the heartache he felt alone in the room with Benjamin. I can also imagine the heartstopping love he felt for him in those few moments. I am very grateful that he had that time alone with him. Glad for both of them.

Again, I don't remember much of the time frame here. I was so sad, so hormonal, so heartbroken. But also filled with so much love and adoration for our new baby boy. I wished SO badly that I could turn back time, I still do. To just go back one week, only one week. Why couldn't that happen. Why could I not just go back to the moment his heart stopped and somehow fix it. Why couldn't I save my baby boy. Why did this have to happen. I think part of me might have been holding out some hope for the news to be wrong. That he would be born
and the shock of it would start his heart again. Or that the ultrasound was just wrong. That it just didn't pick up the heartbeat for some odd reason. That our baby was NOT dead. That he was just being a stubborn kid, like his older brother. I don't think I really believed that he would be alive, but of course I had that slight deep doubt. I think every mother would. You do not want to believe that this baby that you have carried for 8 months, that you have loved and wanted so badly, could be dead. That you wouldn't know. I mean, he was growing inside of me, he was part of me. How could I not know that his little heart had stopped. It just wasn't right.

I'm not going to get into the time frame stuff. Instead I am going to share with you how the hospital deals with stillbirths. ('Deal with' sounds horrible, clinical maybe. But it's the easiest way to say it. And I'm going to say 'the baby' instead of Benjamin, it's too painful a visual any other way). After the baby is born and the family gets some time to spend with him, the hospital staff takes the baby and wraps him in blankets. He is then placed in a fridge behind the nurses station. This way the baby's body will stay in a good condition. This is done because the family is able to see the baby any time they want for the next three days. When I first heard this I was slightly horrified. I thought it was morbid. Why would I want to have my baby back days later? Wouldn't he be cold and deteriorating? Wouldn't he start to smell? Why would I want that memory. Plus I couldn't get the thought of his body being in a fridge. I imagined him laying next to someone's balogna sandwich or something. It was just a horrible thought. Not something I wanted for my baby.

But when it happened? The comfort I felt knowing I didn't have to say goodbye to him right away? Knowing I got to see him any time I wanted, day or night, for the next three days? It was right. It felt right. It gave me a little bit of peace.

The nurses on that floor were wonderful. I could not imagine the experience without them. They were all so loving, so compassionate, so understanding. One of the nurses, Mary, was on shift almost every day that I was there. She was wonderful. One of the first nights I was there she came into my room and I just started crying to her. Telling her it wasn't fair, and I didn't know how to get through this. That I couldn't imagine giving birth to my dead baby and then continuing on with my life. How do I go back to any form of normal after that? She told me about her niece that had a stillbirth, how she made it through it all. Mary is a religious woman, something I am not, and she told me that she would pray for me every night. She sat in my room and talked to me for quite a long time, until another nurse came and found her. She gave me a hug every time she saw I was upset. After Benjamin was born she came back on shift that night. When I saw her in the hall I asked her if she had seen my baby yet. She told me she hadn't had a chance yet, but she would as soon as she could. Then later when I saw her she told me she had seen him and he was absolutely beautiful. Which he was.

Another nurse on the floor, we never could remember her name so we just called her 'the pretty one', also stands out in my mind a lot. And not just because she was so pretty! She was young, probably around my age, and she talked to me like a friend. After Benjamin was born I wanted to write him a letter but had no paper. I went to the nurses station and asked for some paper. One of the nurses handed me some scrap paper. I started crying and said I wanted to write a letter to my son. The Pretty One told me she would bring me some computer paper to my room. When she brought it in she was so kind about it, asking me if I had enough, if I needed anything else, if I wanted to talk. She had such a kind, sweet voice and just exuded warmth and compassion. Everything a nurse on that floor should be.

That afternoon we had a photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep come to the hospital. This is an organization made up of volunteer photographers. They come and take photos for families who have lost a baby. Our photographer, Heather, came around 3pm and we had the nurses bring Benjamin back to our room. This was the first time I had seen him again since we first had him taken away. It took a while for the nurses to bring him into us, but when they did he was wrapped up in a few new blankets that were donated for this situation. One was a beautiful small crocheted white blanket. It was quite small and just behind his head. The other one was a light blue soft blanket with satiny edges and satiny appliqued wings on it. I still don't know who donated these, but they were both beautiful. I was glad to see that he wasn't just in the standard blue hospital baby blankets.

Another wonderful nurse brought him in. This part makes me weep again. She brought him in and laid him on our bed. I had asked them to put him in a standard white hospital gown. The ones our hospital has are stiff white cotton and I just loved them on Jackson, they weren't overly nice and they weren't anything special, but they were what newborns should be in, so I wanted Benjamin in one too. She told me that they had looked for a gown to put him in but they were all too big (I'm not sure why that is, since he was 6 pounds 3 ounces). But they had found another gown. A lacy one. But it was purple. She was disappointed with this too. Then I mentioned that Susan had brought us a gown to dress him in. It was the same exact gown, only blue. So I asked the nurse to change him into that gown. I wish I had been able to do it myself, but I was so scared that moving him that much would 'compromise' his body and I would be horrified. I am so glad I asked her to. She was wonderful. As she rolled him over to untie the purple gown she talked to him. Like he was a living little person. She told him what she was going to do and spoke so softly and lovingly to him. She was very gentle with him and it amazed me. When she finished changing him I thanked her. I thanked her for being so gentle with him and for talking to him. Her response was 'of course I would, he's a person'. I have a photo of this nurse. The photographer caught her in one picture and she is comforting me. It is one of my favorite photos. It captures the wonderful care I got from all the nurses during my stay.

Heather (the photographer) had asked us if there was anything we specifically wanted her to take photos of, or anything we didn't want. I told her to just take pictures, anything she wanted. I had no clue what I wanted. I also had no shame at this point. I didn't care what I looked like, I didn't care if I looked horrid from crying. I just wanted photos of my son. Whatever else was showing in the photo I was fine with. She explained that she would take photos and then she would touch them all up to remove the bruising, the peeling, anything like that. Then I would get them all on cd a few weeks later. As she was taking photos I asked her to take one with our camera. I wanted a good photo of him to tide me over until we got hers in the mail.

She took tons of photos. She took ones of me holding him, ones of Brian holding him, ones of Benjamin alone, ones of his feet, his hands, his head. Everything. We barely even noticed her there. I was so caught up in just looking at him, holding him, kissing his forehead. Memorizing every feature about him.

My parents had arrived shortly before Heather got there. They had brought Jackson with him. They were out in the hall during the photo session, entertaining Jackson. We had decided that we didn't want Jackson to see Benjamin. This decision is one I question often. It breaks my heart that my boys never met. That Jackson will only ever know Benjamin through photographs, that he has never actually seen him. But at the same time, he is too young. He would not understand what was happening anyway. I just don't know how to feel about it.

Brian went out into the hallway to get my mom. My parents had not seen Benjamin yet, he had not been brought into the room yet when they got there. My mom came in and I handed Benjamin to her. Watching her hold him and cry hurt. It was so upsetting to see how upset she was that she would never see her second grandson alive, that this was the only time she would ever get to hold him. I don't know why that hurt so much, but my heart just ached for her. Here I am, just having given birth to my stillborn son, and I was hurting for my mom. I cannot imagine the pain she was in for me. As a mother herself, it must have been horrible. I am glad Heather got some photos of my mom holding Benjamin.

After a few minutes my dad came into the room. My mom gave Benjamin to him and he held him for a while. I cannot remember if my dad cried. I imagine he did, but I don't want to remember that. I don't want to imagine my dad holding my son and crying. It's just too much. We don't have photos of that since Heather had already put her camera away (she had started putting it away before my mom came in but I asked her to take some photos of my mom so she pulled it back out). I don't know how long Heather was taking photos. I lost all track of time. I know it was a long time tho and I am so thankful that she spent extra time with us.

We decided to have a nurse come then and take Benjamin away again. This is the only way I can say it. It sounds horrible to say 'take him away'. But it's better than the alternatives. I didn't want him to go, but at the same time I was worried about having him in our room too long.

After everyone else had left I was alone in the room with Heather (I think it was just the two of us anyways). I told her that Susan had mentioned she had lost a child too. I asked her if it gets easier. We talked for a while and she was so sweet. And so honest. She didn't give me the bullshit answers of 'it will get easier' or 'the pain lessens after time' 'time heals all wounds' and all that. She told me that it will always hurt, but you find a way to deal with it. Since that day we have become email friends and I hope to be friends with her in real life too. She has been a wonderful support to me.

I am going to end this post now with her wonderful photos. If you don't think you can look at them then do not scroll down. They are raw photos. They are real photos. They are some of the most personal photos I have. But they are my son and they show the love we have for him. And the pain we were in. Keep in mind as you look at them, that even tho they show such intense heartache we also feel intense love. Love for our sweet baby Benjamin. Love that will never fade. The heartache has lessened into a dull ache but the love has taken it's place.

This photo is one of the most raw photos I have ever seen. Even though it shows the pain I am in so intensely, it is one of my favorite photos. Looking at this photo brings me right back to that moment. I can almost feel his weight in my arms, imagine his face so clearly, imagine the feelings that were consuming me at that moment. So although it is a hard photo to look at, it is also one of the most treasured ones to me.

The photos of his feet do me in. Every time I look at them I get a little teary. His feet were so perfect, perfect little toes.

The Induction

2009-03-10T19:29:00.000-07:00

So we went to sleep Sunday night wondering when labour would start. The nurses had given me two sleeping pills to make sure I got a good nights sleep and was ready for whatever the next day brought. The pills worked their magic and I was able to sleep pretty soundly until I woke up in the morning to the sound of my neighbour's baby's heartbeat echoing through the room. Not a good way to wake up.

I don't remember a lot of the day. I'm not sure if it's because it was over a month ago now, or if it's because I have blocked a lot of it out to protect myself. Whatever the reason all I know is that Monday was a long difficult day.

At 9am Susan came back to check on me and the induction was starting to work a bit. She decided to put in another Cervidil at that point. I was starting to dilate (only a fingertip dilated tho). She felt this should get things moving a bit more quickly.

My parents came by a while later and I was still only slightly crampy and not really in labour. Tania came back with Jackson in the late morning and visited for a little while. It was great to see Jackson again. I had missed him and needed to see his smiley happy little face. He had had a blast at Tania's house playing with Kai and even learned new tricks (how to jump!).

Brian and my dad had to go out to work for a little while so my mom and Jackson stayed to keep me company. We went for a walk outside for a bit. I couldn't walk too much because the cramping was starting to get a little more painful and it was tiring me out. Once we got back to my room Jackson was in desperate need for a nap so my mom walked him around a bit and we turned a music station on the tv. It was country, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Jackson ended up falling asleep in my mom's arms (I don't know how she does it!) so she laid him down in bed with me and we all ended up having a bit of a nap. It was fantastic to snuggle with Jackson. Definitely something I needed. The only problem was the music! How come all country music is about people dying and sadness!?! It didn't help that the station was having some Rememberance Day tribute to soldiers. And the tv was out of my reach so I couldn't change the station, so instead I laid in bed with snot and tears dripping into Jackson's hair. But don't we look cozy?

After Jackson and my parents left for the day Brian and I settled in for the evening. I was still cramping, but not thinking things were really moving along all that well. The cramping was more constant and I was getting more uncomfortable, but nothing to tell me I would be giving birth any time soon. We ate dinner and then started watching tv.

At 8pm I was on the phone talking to one of my friends and started getting even more uncomfortable. By the time I got off the phone around 8:30 I mentioned to Brian that I thought I might be really going into labour.

This is where I completely lose track of time.

We decided to go for a walk to see if we could speed things up. It worked and the contractions started getting quite a bit more painful. At one point I was standing in the hall just outside our room and got a contraction. I leaned on Brian for this one and one of the nurses came over. She said that she would call Susan and let her know labour was starting. I lost it at this point. I started bawling that I didn't want it to start. I didn't want to give birth to a dead baby. I didn't want my baby to come out, I wanted Daisy to stay in there. It was as if once she was born then it would all be real. It was just too much.

Susan came by and checked me. I was 2 cm dilated. Things were starting. I was able to labour in my room for as long as possible. At one point I was told that I would be staying in my room to give birth too, then they told me I would be moved to labour and delivery for the actual birth. I wasn't sure which option I liked better. I liked the option of staying in my room because I didn't want to go to l&d and hear all the other women giving birth and hearing the baby's first cry and the celebrations that followed. But then I also didn't want to give birth in that room and scare the other poor women that were on bedrest in the next room. Plus I didn't want to have to spend the next few days in the same room that Daisy was born in.

Throughout my entire labour I tried to keep as calm as possible. I kept telling myself to stay calm for Daisy. That Daisy deserved a calm, relaxed birth. There was too much sadness and stress already, labour and the actual birth should not add to that. I told Brian to tell me to stay calm for Daisy any time I started getting worked up. It worked like a charm. I was able to stay quite calm and relaxed for a very long time. At one point (maybe around 4am?) both Brian and I were exhausted so we both got in my tiny hospital bed and tried to get some rest. We ended up falling asleep (oh yeah, I was on morphine at this point). I woke up for each contraction but they had become very mild. This concerned me because I was worried that labour was stalling. Susan came back into the room a while later and I mentioned this to her. She decided to check me again and I was still only 2 cm dilated. Labour was slowing down. We decided that we would go for a walk to try to speed it up again. I walked the hospital halls for a while and then went back to figure out what to do.

Susan gave us the options of: a) letting labour continue on it's own, which could mean it would take a long time if it was slowing down; b) breaking my water, which should speed things up a lot; or c) starting pitocin. I didn't want to start pitocin. I've heard too many horror stories about how painful pitocin labours can be. I didn't want to let labour continue on it's own because I just wanted to give birth! So we decided that she would break my water.

Wow! That worked like a charm. Very shortly after my waters were broken the contractions started getting much more intense. They were painful and I was having a hard time staying calm for Daisy. I still did not want to get an epidural. I was determined to keep this as close to our original plan as possible. Susan brought in the gas (I have no clue what it is) for me to breath in during contractions. I'm not sure if it actually helped with the pain or if it just gave me something else to concentrate on during each contraction.

There was this horrible picture (artwork?) in my room that we had joked about since I was first brought to that room. During labour I was able to focus on the picture and it took my mind off some of the discomfort because we would make fun of how silly the picture is. What in the world does "flower of tulips" mean??

Anyways... We got moved to the l&d ward once labour had progressed a lot. I think they moved me partly for the sake of the other patients on the antepartum ward. It has to be hard to be on hospital bedrest, fearing for the health of your unborn children, and hear a woman going into labour with a baby that has died in the womb. I am glad they moved me for that reason. Plus the room at the end of the l&d ward was free, so I wouldn't be right in the middle of other happy deliveries. I was okay with being moved.

I decided to walk to my new room. I did not want to be wheeled there. I was hoping that walking there would speed things along a little bit more. The last time I was checked I think I was only 4-5 cm.

We got to our new room when it was still dark out, so it must have been before 7am. It was the last room on the labour and delivery ward and it was nice and quiet. I couldn't hear any other woman labouring and definitely couldn't hear anyone celebrating their new arrivals, so I was pleased with this.

I was scared to be in labour and scared to be about to have my baby.

My labour and delivery with Jackson was such a fantastic experience. I am one of those odd women that love giving birth. For the most part I enjoy being pregnant, but I especially love giving birth. With Jackson I only had some morphine, that was all the pain medication I wanted. I wanted to be able to feel him being born, I didn't want to be told when to push; I wanted to just let my body do what it needed to do. I felt in tune with my body more than I have ever felt before. I felt powerful and natural about it all. It was an amazing experience. And when he was born? I cannot even explain how wonderful it was. We had a mirror set up so I could see him coming out (thanks for the words of advice on that, Sarah!). It was amazing to watch him being born, to know that all the pushing, all the pain I'd been feeling was causing that. That all the hard work was paying off and I was going to be holding my precious baby soon. Then when he finally did come out and he was in my arms, it was euphoric. My doctor placed him on my chest, we announced it was a boy, and we were a family. It was the best moment of my life.

I was scared how this experience was going to compare to that. I knew it was going to be so drastically different. I knew it was going to be so intensely sad. I confided to Susan that I was scared that my baby was going to creep me out. That I would be horrified by him because he was dead. That I wouldn't want to hold him, or kiss him, because he wasn't alive. I was worried about what he would look like, what he would feel like (would he be cold?). I was worried that all I'd be able to see when I looked at him was a dead baby. Not my baby, just a dead baby. I didn't want that. I wanted to look at my newborn baby and feel the love and pride that I felt when I looked at Jackson when he was first born. I was just so scared. Susan assured me that I would feel the love, that I wouldn't see a dead baby, I would see my child. She explained that when he was born he would have some bruising (from the birth), his skin may be peeling off in spots (because he had died a few days prior and he'd been in the amniotic fluid for those days), and he may not look like a newborn since he was only 34 weeks and would not have as much fat on him as a newborn would (they believed he was only 34 weeks, not the 36 weeks we now know to be true). We went over what we wanted when the baby was born. We wanted her to clean him up as much as possible, we knew she wouldn't be able to bathe him because his skin would already be peeling. We wanted to hold him right away. Brian wanted to cut the umbilical cord. We wanted her to weigh and measure him and do the footprints. Basically we wanted it to be the same as it would be if he had been born alive.

Once we got to our new room we met our nurse. I don't remember a single thing about her. I know she told me how sorry she was for my loss. I just got used to everyone saying this to me. At this point I'd stopped responding with "It's not fair". Instead I just thanked people. What else do you do in this situation? What else is there to say?

The pain was getting intense quickly. I had already had another morphine shot and was not able to get another one for quite some time. We got the gas working again and that gave me some distraction, but it was still more painful that I remembered from Jackson's birth. I could not find a comfortable position. Every time Susan had me lay back to check me I was blinded by the pain. Labouring on my back was not an option, the only way I could get any relief was to sit up in bed. Finally I started seriously considering an epidural. It was not at all what I wanted but I had never imagined the pain to be this intense. Once it got to the point of telling Susan that I really wanted the epidural she decided to check me again. She lowered the bed again to have me lay back so she could see how far along I was and the pain intensified. I told her that I either needed the epidural or I had to push. She told me that was what she figured; she thought I must be in transition (about to give birth). As she started checking me she was prodding my stomach and I started yelling at her to stop touching me, it was hurting so badly. She checked how far I was dilated and all I heard her say was 'oh, I see a foot'.

During the ultrasound on Sunday Daisy had been head down; and had been for weeks. Apparently at some point between that ultrasound and Tuesday morning the baby had gotten flipped around and was now feet down. And now one of the little feet had started coming out already. As Susan examined me and felt the foot she announced that I could start pushing. This was it.

The pain was incredible. Every contraction hurt like hell. I've heard breech births are more difficult and more painful, but I never really understood until now. I don't know how long I pushed for; I have no clue how long the whole delivery took. I know at one point I was in a lot of pain and was tired and I asked Susan "can't you just pull it out". I regret this statement so much. I hate that I said it. I hate that I referred to my sweet baby as 'it'. I hate that I wanted her to just pull it out, like it was just some thing that I wanted to be out of me. That was not the kind of birth I wanted for Daisy. Not the kind of thing I wanted to say. She deserved so much better than such a crass hurtful statement. I know I was in pain, and the heat of the moment, and all of that, but I am so horrified by the fact that I said that.

The baby was born feet first (Footling Breech) and then the arms were over the head. It was basically the most awkward, painful birth. (I have since learned that Footling Breech births are not that common, especially in full term babies. 10-30% of all breech births are Footling, and only 1-3% of full-term births are Breech births at all.) I had forgotten to mention to Susan that I wanted the mirror set up. I remembered how glad I was that I had that during Jackson's birth and would have liked it this time too. I wish that I had seen his little feet coming out. I think it would have eased the pain a bit too as it would have given me some distraction and some incentive.

At 9:52am our baby was born. Once the baby was completely out both Brian and I looked down (I was already sitting up through the entire delivery) and got to announce "it's a boy!". It was odd. During the entire pregnancy I had been referring to the baby as Daisy. As a girl. But when I looked down and saw my son it just felt right. Just felt like 'of course it's a boy, how could it be anything else?'. Our second son was born. And he was beautiful. I did not see a dead baby. I was not horrified by him, or creeped out by him. He was my son and all I felt was love.

During the last 2 days Brian and I had talked about names. We had always knew what name we wanted to name Daisy if she was a girl. But once we learned that our baby had died we knew we couldn't use that name anymore (and no, we are not sharing what that name was!). It's not that we were going to save the name for any future daughters, it's more that the name just wasn't right for Daisy anymore. We knew that if Daisy was a girl the only name that would be perfect for her was 'Daisy'. She was our Daisy and always would be. But if 'she' was a boy, then what? We had never agreed on a boy's name. We had no clue what name to chose. We had both always loved the name Benjamin. When I was pregnant with Jackson we considered that name but I had researched it in baby books and we quickly vetoed it. I read that in the bible Rachel gave birth to Benjamin but it was a difficult delivery and she died shortly after childbirth. We decided this was just a little to much of a bad omen. On Monday I had brought the name up again to Brian. I told him that the situation was already horrible, it couldn't get much worse than the fact that our baby was already dead. He got a bit annoyed at me for that, reminding me that it still could get much worse. But we agreed. If Daisy was a boy we would name him Benjamin, but we were not allowed to say the name again until after the delivery and I was okay. For the middle name we decided on two family names. I wanted William since on my dad's side of the family all the men are named only 2 of 3 names; James (which is Jackson's middle name), Ross, or William. I wanted Benjamin to carry on this tradition. Then we also wanted to honour Brian's granddad who had passed away. His name was Brian Herbert. We didn't want to use Brian so we agreed on Herbert. So our Daisy became Benjamin William Herbert.

So after Benjamin was born and Brian had cut the umbilical cord, Susan took him to the other side of the room to clean him up. While she did this I finished with the whole birthing process (placenta and all that nasty stuff). Susan weighed him (6 pounds 3 ounces) and measured him. He was 24" long. This was an amazing length. When Jackson was born he was in the higher percentile for length and he was only around 21.5". Benjamin was way off the charts. From his weight, length and head circumference Susan decided he was actually 36 weeks, instead of the 34 weeks she had believed. Even for 36 weeks he was off the charts for length. Even for full term he would have been off the charts. He was a very tall baby.

Susan brought him to us to hold. He was gorgeous. He looked so much like Jackson. He had his chin and his forehead. His nose was a perfect combination of Brian and me. We couldn't see his eyes, he was born with them closed and we didn't want to open them. He had adorable little ears and perfect fingers and toes. Oh, his toes. They were so perfect.

It was bittersweet. It was so surreal to hold him. He was done. He was fully cooked. It just wasn't right at all. He didn't look premature. He didn't look like there was anything wrong with him. Sure, his skin was bruised and peeling in spots (really only his belly tho). But his cheeks were so chubby!

We held him for a long time in that room. Susan and the nurse had left to give us some time with Benjamin. We were holding him at 11am when the moment of silence for Rememberance Day was announced over the hospital speakers. I can't even think of what to say about that. Here we were holding our son who was just born still and we knew all over the hospital everyone was stopping what they were doing to have a moment of silence for people who had passed away. It was right, but also so wrong. I didn't want to share this moment with anyone. I didn't want his birthday to be so closely associated with death and grieving. It just wasn't right. I know I will always associate his birthday with the day of his death; there is no way around that. But in my mind he died a few days before, this was only the day of his birth. He may not have been born alive, but he was born this day.

This is all I can type today. It is after midnight here and I am tired and now I am sad. But strangely also happy. I like remembering him and remembering the first time I got to see him. He is my son and although he was not born kicking and screaming I still got to hold him and kiss him and love him.

Sunday, November 9th

2009-03-10T19:25:00.000-07:00

I don't think I am going to be able to do this in only 3 parts. There is too much to tell. I don't want to miss any important details or memories. I want to do the story right.

Today's post is only going to be about Sunday, November 9th. The day our lives changed so drastically.

The day started off well. We slept in a little while, letting Jackson play in his crib. I realized, while I laid there, that I hadn't felt Daisy moving that morning. Normally the baby was really active late at night and then again in the morning. I would lie in bed and feel all the rolls, kicks, punches and acrobatics. This morning I hadn't felt them. Then I wondered if I had felt them last night at all and didn't think so. Brian got me some juice and I drank that and then laid down on my left side. I remembered reading somewhere that if you hadn't felt the baby moving in a while to drink juice and lie on your left side, that would wake the baby up. So as I laid there Brian went and had a shower. When he came back into the bedroom he asked if Daisy had moved yet. I said no and that I wasn't sure what to do. He told me not to mess around with this and to call Susan. I was hesitant to call her. It was only around 8:15am. I didn't want to wake Susan up for a false alarm. I felt like I was over-reacting, that I was being a drama queen. I just did not think that anything would really be wrong. It was just me being a worrier.

I called Susan and told her that I hadn't felt Daisy move in a while. I wasn't sure when the last time I felt movement was. She told me she would be over around 9am. I went and had a shower and threw some comfy clothes on. While we waited for Susan Brian and I talked about what we were going to do that day. We planned on going out for breakfast and then putting the nursery together. We had just bought the crib and dresser on Friday and were looking forward to getting the room all done. So far it was still Jackson's playroom and we were kind of worried about how he would react to losing his second room. We were going to put the crib and dresser together and leave Jackson's toys in there for a while. We would transition the room from a playroom to Daisy's nursery slowly.

Susan got to our house and I laid down on our couch so she could listen for Daisy's heartbeat. She tried for about 10-15 minutes. At one point she thought she found it so she grabbed my wrist. Nope, it was my heartbeat, just beating very fast. I started crying because I was terrified that maybe I wasn't just being a drama queen. I really truly thought I was. While she was checking I swear I could feel Daisy moving. I even said to Susan "oh see, I just had to call you and she starts moving again, just to prove me wrong." Susan was worried. No, she was beyond worried. I think she was positive at that point that Daisy had no heartbeat. She told us to meet her at the hospital and she would check with their machines. Apparently they would be able to detect things that her equipment couldn't.

We got Jackson ready to go, called Tania to meet us at the hospital to look after Jackson, and headed to the hospital. We were both worried, but not to the point that we thought things were that bad. On the drive I asked Brian what percentage of him thought something was really wrong. Neither of us thought it was that likely. Once we got to the hospital we had to decide how long to get for parking. Brian thought we would only need an hour or two. I thought we should just get the 4 hour pass. How long could it take just to check me?

Susan was waiting for us at labour and delivery. Tania wasn't there yet so we all headed into the assessment room. Right away Susan got the fetal heart rate monitors out. She didn't strap them onto me, she just held them to my belly. She searched around for a while and still couldn't find anything. She started telling me she was sorry. I told her that at home when she was checking I could have sworn I felt Daisy moving. She told me that it was probably just the baby being pushed around from her pushing on my belly. Then she told me she was going to go and get the OB and the ultrasound machine.

I think at this point it was sort of starting to sink in for both of us. We new things were not looking good and we were getting scared.

I'm not sure of the order of things or the times of things, to be honest a lot of Sunday is a bit of a blur to me. I know the general order so that's what I'm going with here. It doesn't really matter anyway.

Tania got to the hospital right at the same time that the OB came into my room. Brian had taken Jackson out to see Tania, so he wasn't in the room for the ultrasound. When the OB came into the room he immediately told me he was sorry for my loss. Susan told him that I still had hope, that I thought I had felt the baby move when she was checking me at home. He told me that the ultrasound isn't a diagnostic tool, that it is just used to "confirm what we already know to be true". And with that he hooked up the ultrasound and right away brought up an image of Daisy's face. Then he moved down to the chest and showed me the heart. "No heart activity" is all he said. Just like that. "No heart activity". Then he told me he was sorry and started putting the machine away. I told him to wait, that he had to show Brian, that someone had to get Brian into the room. I was starting to panic. I didn't know what to do with this information. How could my baby be dead? How could this have happened to Daisy? Brian came back into the room and the OB right away told him he was sorry for our loss, then brought up the image again. Again he pointed to the heart and told us there was no movement. We asked him to see what gender Daisy was. We wanted to know now. There was no sense in waiting for the birth, I wanted to know right then if I was going to have a boy or a girl. It didn't make a difference, I just wanted to know so that we could prepare and just so we could know. I wanted to think of Daisy as s/he was for this last while. I didn't want to keep saying "if Daisy's a boy" or "if Daisy's a girl". It didn't matter tho, Daisy's legs were together and we couldn't see.

The doctor wiped the gel off my belly and put the machine away. Then he and Susan left the room. It was then that it fully sunk in. I started sobbing and yelling "It's not fair". Brian was trying to hold me but I was beating on his chest and just crying. I can't even describe the despair and hurt I felt at that moment. It was horrible. Nothing in my life has compared to the heartache that I felt in that room. My Daisy was dead. Inside of me. I had to give birth to my baby and I would never see her grow up. I would never see her smile. Never hear her talk. All the dreams and hopes and expectations that we had built up over the last 8 months were gone. Now we had to deal with this new reality, this new life. And it sucked.

I was going to be admitted to the hospital to get induced. We were given the option of being admitted right then or going home for a bit to get things organized and then come back. I wanted to get the process started right away. Brian went out of the room after a bit to get Tania and Jackson so that she could take him to her house for the night. Tania was so wonderful. She hugged me and talked to me for a while about everything. I was so thankful that she was there that day. Whenever I had thought about being in the hospital having Daisy my main fear was what we were going to do with Jackson. I was apprehensive about leaving him with anyone. He had only been left with family or Katie before and we didn't know how he would react. Luckily he really likes Tania and we are very comfortable with her. She took him to her house that night and we were not worried about him at all. I was so pleased with that, it was relieving not to have that extra worry. We knew he was in good hands and most likely having a blast with Kai.

I called my parents after Jackson left and asked my Mom to fly out here. This was one of those times that a person just really needs her Mommy. My parents were shocked by the news and I could hear their despair and sadness. I needed them here with me.

We met Susan back in the assessment room and a lab technician was waiting for us. I had to have blood drawn. I'm still not sure what all the blood was drawn for. I'm assuming to check for blood antibodies, iron levels, etc. At that point I would have cut off an arm if they told me I had to. The lab tech was a very kind woman. She whispered to me that she was so sorry for my loss. I just cried and whispered back that it wasn't fair. She agreed and then told me that her sister had lost a baby too. She was pregnant with twins and found out that one of them had died the day before they were born. She told me that she likes to think that when a baby dies in the womb that it means the body just wasn't right for them. That are up in heaven waiting for the next chance, the next body that is right for them. That gave me some comfort for a while.

Somehow we ended up in our new room over in the antepartum wing. I do not remember getting to that room. I don't know if I walked there, if I was wheeled there (I doubt it tho). I really do not remember getting there or getting into the bed. This room was a double room but I did not have a roommate and would not have one the entire time I was there. This room was designated for people in my 'situation'. The problem (one of a few) with this room was that I had to share a bathroom with the adjoining room. Because of this I could hear a lot from their room. Brian and I went for a walk around the hospital Sunday night and when we got back to the room all I could hear was the sound of a baby's heartbeat. The patient next door had the fetal heartrate monitor hooked up and it was loud and echoing in my room. It was horrible and cruel. The nurses said it has to be that loud because they need to be able to hear it at the nurses station.

Around 1pm Susan came in to start the induction. She inserted some Cervidil which should get my body started in the labour process. I'll leave out all the details on all of this. And this is also where times and details get a little fuzzy.

Now all we had to do was wait. Brian and I hung out at the hospital all afternoon. He went home at one point to get some stuff for me. I didn't have a hospital bag packed or anything. It never occurred to me that I would need one. I thought I was only 34 weeks pregnant. I thought I had weeks still before I needed to get to that task.

In the early evening Brian went out to work for a bit to get stuff ready so that he wouldn't have to go back the next day. While Brian was gone the OB came back to talk to me. He told me that, so far, there was no reason for why Daisy's heart had stopped. There didn't appear to be any cord problems. He went on to tell me that we may never know the cause, we could have an autopsy done but answers may never be found. He also told me that vaginal birth was the best choice for stillbirths. That it's really not recommended to do a c-section because the recovery time is longer and if/when I have another baby I'd be more likely to need a c-section again (vaginal births after c-sections are thought to be riskier). I was fine with all of that. I did NOT want a c-section. He also told me that when the time came, I might want to get an epidural. I had been planning on having a natural birth. With Jackson I had a bit of morphine and that's all I wanted this time too. The doctor said that with a normal birth all the endorphins and excitement of meeting your baby help to dull the physical pain a bit. In the case of a stillbirth you won't have that, so the pain might seem stronger. It was something to keep in mind.

Brian left to go to the airport to pick up my mom. I called him around the time she was supposed to land to make sure she got there okay. He surprised me by telling me that they got there fine. My dad had decided to come too. I was so pleased to hear that. I had been worried about my mom flying by herself. I could only picture her sitting on the plane sad and crying by herself. I was happy to have both my mom and dad coming to be with me. They got to the hospital in the late evening and sat with us in my room for a bit. Then they went to their condo for the night.

So far I had been having some very light cramping, but nothing implying labour was imminent. We decided to go to sleep for the night and see what tomorrow would bring.

The Pregnancy

2009-03-10T19:19:00.000-07:00

We found out I was pregnant in April of 2008. We kept going back and forth between wanting to start 'trying' around Christmas of 2007 and starting around Jackson's first birthday (May 2008). I had gone to the doctor in February to discuss getting pregnant since I had blood incompatibility issues with Jackson. When he was born he had severe jaundice and we were told it was because I am O- and he is A+. We were told I must have antibodies built up and therefore we might run into problems with future pregnancies. We spoke to Jackson's pediatrician and he told us that we should be able to get pregnant fine, but that we might have issues during the second or third trimester, that the baby might need to have in interuterin blood transfusion, that I might have to deliver early, and other scary prospects. I made an appointment with my family doctor to discuss these concerns. He did not have any experience with these issues since he is not a maternity doctor. He told me he would research it and make a follow up appointment to discuss what he found out. So a few weeks later (back to February) I went back to see him. He told me that my chances of having any more children were 'very bleak'. That my body has the blood antibodies and so the chances of even being able to get pregnant were slim. But then he told me to be thankful I have Jackson and that he is such a joy. I left that appointment thinking he was a quack. I had already spoken to some other people about this and knew he wasn't right. It still was upsetting to hear someone say those things tho.

I called his office the next day and asked to be referred to a high risk OB/GYN. I wanted a second opinion from someone who has a little more knowledge than what he read in the scary case studies. We went to see this new doctor a few weeks later. This new doctor is the God of Fertility doctors around here. People come from all over to see him. I was happy to be going to him. During our first visit we were told that a simple blood test would tell me if I have any antibodies. That's all I needed. If I did have the antibodies then we would deal with that, if not then we should have no problems. I got the blood test done and at our follow appointment we found out that I have no antibodies! There should be no issues with blood incompatibility during the pregnancy. I should have a normal pregnancy, like I did with Jackson.

I got pregnant about a month later. We had not really been meaning to get pregnant when we did. When I was pregnant with Jackson we referred to him as Bob. Brian chose that name. There was no meaning behind it, it was just a simple name that seemed to stick. This time we referred to the little one growing inside of me as Daisy. As in Oops-a-Daisy. I questioned whether this was a good name or a bad name. What would we tell this child when they were older and wanted to know why we called him/her Daisy while I was pregnant? But Daisy stuck. Soon everyone we knew was asking us how Daisy was.

At first I was terrified. I was scared to be pregnant while also having such a rambunctious, 'spirited' toddler. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to give Jackson the attention he needed while I was pregnant. I was scared that he would miss out on things. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to love two children enough. I already loved Jackson so much it hurt sometimes. How could I love another baby that much too?

Then I got more used to the idea. I started looking forward to having two kids so close in age. They would play together well and they would be such good friends (that's what I hoped anyways, lol). Jackson would be a fantastic big brother. He would teach Daisy so many things.

We had a flight booked for June 1st to go to Ontario for Jackson's first birthday. We were planning on telling our families all about Daisy after the birthday party. We had bought Jackson a t-shirt that said 'oh boy I'm going to be a big brother'. He was going to be the one to tell everyone about Daisy. We were excited.

Before we left I made an appointment with Susan, my midwife. I was just about 12 weeks pregnant and I wanted to hear Daisy's heart beat before we told everyone. I had heard Jackson's heartbeat at 9 weeks, but so far had not heard Daisy's. I was a little worried (since I was already paranoid about everything with this pregnancy, y'know being a worrier by nature, lol). Susan tried to find the heartbeat and couldn't. She tried for at least 5 minutes. Then she asked me how sure I was about my dates. I told her I was very sure. She poked around at my belly and then told me that she was going to make me a same-day ultrasound. She was worried. My belly wasn't measuring at 11.5 weeks, and it was odd not to be able to find the heart beat yet. She told me that either my dates were wrong (which I was insistent on being correct) or I had had a miscarriage. She obviously believed I had miscarried, and she was preparing me for that.

Brian came with me to the ultrasound. I was terrified. As I laid on the exam table and the ultrasound tech got the image up on the screen I think I held my breath the entire time. In a minute an image of Daisy filled the screen. I started crying and asked her if she could tell if the baby was okay. She told me that she couldn't tell from this image, she would have to do 'the other kind of ultrasound' (don't worry, I'll leave those details out). Just then Daisy jumped around and flung her arms out. She was okay. I started bawling, I was so relieved. The ultrasound tech got some more images for us and checked everything out. Daisy was fine, just a lot smaller than expected. They told me my dates were wrong. That I was actually only 10.5 weeks, not 12.5. Two weeks less. That put my due date at December 18th, when I had been believing it was December 4th. I was disappointed that I basically lost 2 weeks of my pregnancy, but relieved that Daisy was okay. I didn't realize until that day how badly I wanted this baby. Up until then I was happy to be pregnant, but really worried at the same time. I had been questioning whether this was what I really wanted, was this the right time to be pregnant? But when I thought I had miscarried I was so upset, I wanted the baby to be okay so badly. I didn't care if the timing was right, or if I would be pregnant while being the mommy of a rambunctious toddler. I just wanted my Daisy to be okay.

That weekend we flew home to Ontario for Jackson's first birthday party. So many people came to the party and Jackson had so much fun! We wanted to just shout out the news that we were going to have another baby, we wanted everyone to know and everyone to be excited about it. But at the same time we wanted that day to be just about Jackson. We didn't want his very first birthday party to be about anything but him. It was his special day and he deserved all the attention.

After everyone but my parents, Brian's parents and Brian's grandma left we dressed Jackson in his t-shirt. He had just woken up from a nap and was being really clingy so he wouldn't walk into the room to surprise everyone with the message on his shirt. Finally we coaxed him to do it and our Moms read the shirt. Everyone was excited by the news, but I still think we were most excited just to finally be able to share our joy! Keeping it a secret is so hard!

The next few weeks went by without much of a hitch. Daisy cooked away, I got increasingly uncomfortable and grumpy, lol. Jackson stayed oblivious to the fact that I was growing a little sibling for him to play with. Really, kids should just know these things and sleep longer, nap better, play quieter, etc. But no such luck.

I went for my routine ultrasound at one day shy of 18 weeks. They want you to go for this scan between 18 and 22 weeks. They were basing my dates on my original due date when they made the appointment, so they thought I was one day shy of 20 weeks, which was the optimal time for the scan. When I got there and they realized how far along I only was they decided to go ahead with the ultrasound, but warned us that they might not be able to get all the views they needed. Daisy was really active during the scan and we were able to see so much! We made sure to tell the technician that we didn't want to know the gender, so during those views we had to look away. Brian was mainly the one that didn't want to know. I desperately wanted to know if Daisy was a boy or a girl, but I also knew that if I did find out I would instantly regret it. I like the suspense of not knowing, and that moment when you have the baby and get to hear "it's a....". Plus what difference would it make?

We were in that ultrasound room for quite a while and they were able to see everything but didn't get all the shots of the heart that they needed. At my follow up appointment with Susan (my midwife) she told me that it was up to me whether or not I wanted to go back for another ultrasound to get more views of the heart. She told me that the radiologist was happy enough with the images that they got. It was a no brainer. Of course I wanted to go back for another ultrasound (remember, I am a worrier by nature, lol).

I am so glad I went back! The next ultrasound was done when I was 22.5 weeks and Daisy was quite a bit bigger. Brian wasn't able to go with me to this scan since he had to stay with Jackson (children aren't allowed in the ultrasound room). The technician that I had at this appointment was fantastic! She took her time to show me everything and point out everything! She showed me every inch of Daisy (okay, except the 'bits' since Brian made me promise to tell her I didn't want to know the gender). She even showed me a 4D image of Daisy's face, which was a little creepy, lol. I had told her that at our previous ultrasound we weren't able to get any good profile pictures because Daisy was camera shy and kept moving. This fantastic tech spent forever trying to get some good profile shots for me (which she did!). She also got some great pictures of Daisy's hands, feet, legs, and nose/lips. She was only supposed to be checking the heart, but she told me that she figures since she is doing the scan anyways she may as well check everything. I'm glad she did, I got fifteen ultrasound photos of Daisy! And I got to watch my baby moving around and being so lively.

Every midwife appointment I had went well. When I was pregnant with Jackson I had high blood pressure and I was worried that my blood pressure would go up with this pregnancy too. I was also worried about blood incompatibility issues. My biggest fear through this entire pregnancy was that Daisy would develop severe jaundice when s/he was born and be rushed to the Special Care Nursery (SCN), like Jackson was. I knew I could handle it better this time, and I knew I would be proactive and demand bilirubin tests from the moment s/he was born until we were discharged from the hospital. But of course, that fear was still there. The fear that my baby would need special care and I wouldn't be able to keep her/him in my room with me. It was so hard when Jackson was taken to the SCN and I did not want to have to go through that heartache again.

Luckily my blood pressure remained at the high end of normal. I never had to go on any medication, I didn't have to be monitored closer, I didn't have to limit my sodium intake. I got my blood antibodies rechecked around 28 weeks and I still had no antibodies. I got my rhogam shot around 32 weeks (going with a December 18th due date). This shot was late, I was supposed to get it at 28 weeks, but wasn't sent for it in time (this wasn't an issue tho). Everything with the pregnancy was going along just perfectly.

Daisy wasn't a very active baby. S/he would mostly kick and roll when I was lying in bed at night or first thing in the morning. I would joke to Brian that already the kids were ganging up on me. Daisy would keep me up at night with her/his acrobatics and Jackson would wake me up early. But I loved feeling Daisy kicking and rolling. Every night when I put Jackson to bed I would sit back in the rocking chair and Jackson would curl up over my giant belly and I would sing them two bedtime songs, Douglas Mountain and Mr.Moon. Most nights Daisy would start kicking Jackson like s/he was annoyed that Jackson was crowding her/him. The first couple times Jackson was a little disturbed by it and couldn't figure out what was happening, but soon he just got used to it, lol. I loved these moments.

I searched for the perfect bedding set for Daisy. I found the one I wanted but it was too expensive so I decided to sew my own. I found the perfect material and found a pattern. I was only going to make the crib bumpers, crib skirt and a quilt. I worked on them every day while Jackson napped. I would sew, watch Baby Story on TLC, and feel Daisy rolling and kicking (I think the sound of the sewing machine would wake her/him up). I managed to finish the crib skirt fairly quickly, but the bumpers were a pain to make! I actually finished them the weekend before the birth. The quilt is still unfinished.
There is this group of women from all over the States (and one in Canada) that I chat with online every day. They are my 'fake friends' my '60 year old men'. I have shared so many details of my pregnancy with them that they all feel a certain bond to Daisy. One day I complained to them that I never had a baby shower for Jackson and wasn't going to have one for Daisy either. That, since all my family and the majority of my friends lived far away from me, I didn't feel there were many people around me who were excited about this baby. I felt a little alone and sad. Do you know what these wonderful women did? They secretly all emailed each other (numerous times I imagine) and put together a baby shower in a box. They sent me three big boxes of presents. They had all bought them and sent them to one women, who then put it all together and sent them to me. I got the boxes on November 5th and got to enjoy a little baby shower! It was such a thoughtful thing and I loved every minute (and every present!). It was so fantastic to know that these women, these 'fake friends' that I had never met in person, cared about me and Daisy so much that they did this for us. I was truly touched.

Our biggest issue was trying to decide on a name. We had a girl's name picked (sorry Becki, it was not going to be Daisy, lol). And we had the middle name chosen. But if Daisy ended up being a boy we had no clue what we were going to call him. I was constantly emailing Brian ideas on boy's names. He was no help, he would reply with snide comments about my choices. A perfect example was when I emailed him a list and he replied with the following:

Timothy (Tiny Tim)
Asher (is that a name?)
Colby (Cheese)
Nigel (Really?!?)
Zachary (I don’t like that one)

See how much help he was? So we still couldn't come up with a name (this list was from the end of September, but it really did not get any better, lol). We were so sure that Daisy would be a girl tho that we weren't that worried.

I'm sure I'm forgetting important aspects of this pregnancy. Things I know I want to remember. But the thing is, the pregnancy wasn't all that noteworthy. It was a perfect pregnancy. There were no major issues, no causes for alarm, nothing to 'write home about'. Everything went well. Every checkup was good. Daisy's heart beat was always strong, I was measuring right on track. We were looking good.