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.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
It's been a while
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.
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.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Is there a book in here?
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.
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.
Monday, February 22, 2010
What's with the weird comments
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
You have to read this
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...
But to have that bear with Benjamin's heart beat...
Monday, February 15, 2010
Odd, disturbing conversation
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.
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.
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