Problem?

We had an ultrasound last week, and our doctor called us the next day and said that the amniotic fluid level is on the high side of normal.  No "worries" yet, but any ounce of concern is freaking me out.

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16 months this past week.

My thoughts of Olivia are so much closer to the surface now - tears come pretty quickly.  They don't stick around, but they come quickly.  It's like I'm expecting an ending, not a beginning with Tuppy.  And that's horrid.  But that's all I know.

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Tentative plans are an induction on May 5.  I'll be 37w1d, 8 days past what I was when Olivia died.  I'm excited and terrified.

I'm afraid to buy stuff.  It's cheaper to buy diapers on Amazon if you set up regular delivery, but I'm afraid to assume we'll need them.

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Twice a week non stress tests (NSTs) and once a week fluid checks start this week.  Here we go.  Again.

Can you fault me for not being optimistic?

15 months, L&D #2, and other happenings

Last week was 15 months.  15 months since my daughter died, three months until my son is due.  Yeah.

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We hit up L&D again last weekend.  Everything's good; we just have to chill.  I mean, they didn't say that.  They said we can come by anytime we want - our doc and the whole L&D wing is the shit.

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Failed my one-hour glucose test last week.  Luckily, the 3-hour was fine.  Well, fine in that it was horrid, gross, yucky, exhausting, but I passed, so I'll take it. :)

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Starting to buy some clothes and things for Tuppy.  There's part of me, though, that still doesn't totally believe that this is happening.

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It's getting harder and harder to imagine what life would be like with Olivia.  And that sucks.

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I'm really, really tired.  But my schedule at work will lighten up a little bit this week until the end of the semester, so I'm hoping that will help.

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My husband is the shit.

L&D #1

We went to labor and delivery last night.

Everything is fine, but I didn't feel Tuppy for about 4 hours, and started freaking out.  It's early, and the periods of me not feeling him are going to happen - he's still pretty little - but that's what happened when we lost Olivia, so J. called and we went in last night.  Everything is fine; he was actually kicking in there but I wasn't feeling it, so we're good.

Note to self and to other people: when someone is telling you about how they were upset, even if it was over nothing, you telling them about how others' lives are sucking doesn't make the original person feel any better.  I mean, what is that?  Believe me, I'm grateful nothing is wrong.  Now you're just making me feel guilty about it.

Sigh.

Is that what I think it is?

This is the blog entry that never ends; I've started and stopped a billion entries.  So here's one really long one.

12/17
We had a ultrasound at a maternal fetal specialist on Tuesday - our regular doc just wanted to be safe and have us check in with someone else to see if they had any other ideas of what precautions we should be taking.

So, the tech was doing all of the measurements, and J. asked her if we could "see any junk."  Lawd.  So she tried to look, and we got a big ol' shot of a penis.

So, yes, it's a boy.  And we're very excited.

But.

I've been crying a lot the last few days.  I sort of expected this.

I'm excited for him.  But I don't miss her any less.

12/25

Lost it at church this morning.  At Olivia's memorial service, we played Angels we have heard on high, and they sang it today.  I'd already been a little emotional, but thought I could keep it together.  And then that started and I was done.  DONE.

I've been up and down a whole bunch.  I keep asking J if this is more than normal, if I should be worried, if I need to get into therapy.  But he keeps reassuring me - and he's right - that I was like this with Olivia too.  I was a wreck off and on until I could feel her kicking.  Of course, everything has different weight, different reasons, different sources this time, but the timing is about the same.

The holidays are hard.  I keep thinking about how she'd be, seeing little girls around her age and having to turn away.

1/1

It's a new year.

I'm still out of town for the holidays, but am thinking more and more about having to go through the nursery and all of Olivia's things.  It's going to suck.  A LOT.  I'm going to need at least a day for that - the actual sorting and the aftermath.

I wish I knew how to do this.

It's 1/1/11, and, according to my sad little counter, it's been 1 year, 1 week, 1 month and 1 day since we lost her.  Huh.

One year.

I don't even know what to say today.

I just think about things like:
-the fact that everything we have for her she would have outgrown
-how unbelievably amazing our doctor and most of the nurses were (and still are)
-the outpouring of love from our friends and family
-that I desperately, savagely miss her
-that she will ALWAYS be a part of our lives
-that I hope and pray she can watch over her little brother or sister

I am so grateful of the time we had with her, and so pissed that we didn't get more.

Baby girl, I love you so much.

Friends.

I lurk on a lot of BL blogs, and there seems to be common feelings of disconnect from old friends - that many of us have friends that don't really know how to handle our grief, and then just give us some more space.

Any of you feel like you've actually cut people off?

I feel I have.  It's hard for me to return calls to a lot of people.  There's a specific group of our friends - a bunch of guys that I've been friends with for over ten years - that I really have removed myself from.  Why?  I don't exactly know.  One of them had a baby this past summer, so that doesn't help.  But I just sort of cut myself off.

We usually get together with these guys over the holidays, and I'm dreading the email.  Maybe it will never come.  That's a distinct possibility.

And then I got a Facebook message from a girl I went to grad school with - we haven't really kept in touch.  But she sent me a note saying she'd been praying for me all year and knew that this would be a tough week and that I was in her thoughts, which was really sweet.  I had just mentioned to J a few days ago that I wondered how many of our friends would remember, if any would call, or send us a note, or something.  So that made me teary and grateful all at the same time.

I am so glad this is a short week, and I am SO GLAD we are both off on Wednesday.  It's going to be hard.

Eleven months.

I can't believe it's been that long.  I was trying to imagine her at 11 months today....what she'd look like, what she'd be doing....and it's hard to even imagine.  Yes, I know what typically babies do at that age.  But what about Olivia.

Sigh.

After two weeks of not blogging you'd think I'd have more to say.  But sometimes I just have no words.

Blissful ignorance.

I miss that a lot.

I miss looking at pregnancy with nothing but hope and excitement.  Now those thoughts are tainted with fear, terror, dread, and worry.  There's still hope and excitement, but the innocence is totally gone.

I had lots of worries last time - worries about previa, worries about fluid levels - and was pretty good about setting that stuff aside.  Me worrying and being stressed couldn't change the outcome.  But that kind of stuff will be so much harder this time - any twinge, any pain, ANYTHING is going to make me freak out.

I miss being ignorant.

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I have had sort of a sad weekend.  I don't know why; maybe it's just because when I finally have true down time all of it comes out.  When I'm busy, I can put aside how different my life should be right now.  That there should be baby proof locks everywhere, that there should be cheerios crushed into the carpet, we should be worrying about if we have enough diapers left to get through the rest of the weekend.  Instead I'm sitting here on the couch with a cup of coffee with the Packer game on in the background.

I started reading Carol Cirulli Lanham's book this weekend; I'm sure that's part of it.  It's just ripping off the proverbial bandage.

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I hate that everything has a shadow on it.  It's like an out-of-balance recipe.

Square one.

I'm having one of those hard days; one of those days where I feel like I've been catapulted back eight or nine months in the grieving process.

I'm so down today.  I think part of it is that I'm PMSing, and that almost makes it worse, because then I'm not pregnant.   Just having one of those days when I feel like a complete failure.  Failure as a mom, failure as a wife, failure as a woman....everything.

Will I ever stop feeling guilty?  I don't know.  My brain knows I didn't do anything wrong, but my heart and soul agree with that very little of the time.  I just feel like I failed her.  That I failed her, failed my husband, failed our families, failed everyone.

I feel like hell, I look like hell, and I just want to crawl under the blankets and sleep for days.

When it hits.

I've been trying to figure out how to describe what it feels like when the grief hits.

A wave.

A cloud.

Sandbags.

A heavy blanket.

Gravity x infinity.

A tranquilizer.

Cold, wet clothes.

A severe beating (I imagine).

A sinus headache in my entire body.

And none of those really adequately describe it.

Have you ever read the Vonnegut story called Harrison Bergeron?  The concept is basically about weighing people down who are more intelligent or more athletic than the average person so that everyone is the same.  When this hits, it sort of feels like that - like someone, somewhere, thought I was too happy and gave me the most terrible handicap.

One-two punch.

I have to first thank Curls O Fred for mentioning Glow in the Woods this week - I really, really liked it, especially since there were some men blogging.  I passed it onto J, and this is really his first foray into the babyloss blogs.  There were many tears for both of us, but I also think this is good - I think he's really found some people to connect with on this in some way, at least via reading what they write.  It's been an emotionally wrenching night, though.

In his trolling for more, he discovered Grieving Dads, which, upon first reading, he really likes.  I wanted to pass it on for any other dads out there.

AF also decided to drop in today, about two weeks early.  I have NEVER been irregular and since AF started coming back it's been weird - four weeks, four weeks, six weeks, six weeks, and now four weeks.  I also really thought we could be pregnant, so that was tough.  It will happen - I know it will - but it was kind of a slap in the face.  And I had to admit that to myself when J asked me about it - that it's just different now.  It's not pressure, per se, but it's just....different.

Sigh.

Eight months.

That's all I have to say about that.

Well, that's not entirely true, but my soul has already gotten its beating today.

This blog is about surviving, right?

And we are.

There has been much crying, and talking, and discussing, and compromising.  And this is good.  I love my husband so much, and I know this isn't him, isn't us, and this relationship is so much bigger than what I know will be a blip on the radar in the long run.  Olivia, of course, will probably remain one of the biggest spikes ever.  As she should.

Stumbled upon Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope today.  I shared it with J., and there was much crying.  But this is a part of the healing.  Maybe at some point we'll submit our story - he's a much better writer than me.

We're coming up on 8 months this weekend.  We're still dealing with firsts, though - first summer since I was pregnant, remembering planning for the school year while being pregnant with Olive, hoping that she'd cooperate and decide to come out after finals in December.  Oh, my sweet Olivia.

Anyhoo.  We've hit a rough patch but I know we're stronger than it.

And...a new wrinkle.

I knew my husband wasn't handling the grieving process well, but I didn't know how much he was hiding from me.

I deleted some details here.  Basically, he's had some inappropriate contact with some women.
I don't know what to do. I'm so angry, so sad, so upset, but I also know that this isn't him. When he told me he was just quiet while I blew up, but when I asked him a few pointed questions later, he broke down and all of this stuff came out.   How he feels inadequate, some things in our marriage he's not been happy about....all of this stuff.

He has an appointment to go see a therapist Monday. There's been lots of screaming and yelling and hugging and crying, and I know we'll get through this.  I'm hurt, but I know this isn't him.  And, frankly, it could have been a lot worse.

Fuck.

And now we're behind.

I wish I could explain all of the thoughts and feelings that rush through me when I find out a friend or student is pregnant.

I'm happy, sad, jealous, angry, wistful, and grieve all over again.  And that doesn't even begin to describe it.

One of my students is 12 weeks, and finally posted about it on Facebook.  I'm very happy for her and her husband - I know they'll be great parents - but my heart and soul just ache.

Is that ever going to stop?

I miss you, my sweet little girl.

The world is trying to test me.

You know how to make a 5-hour flight longer?  Put a seven-month-old baby behind me.  Who laughs, cries, and smells like baby.  Every time she cried, I cried.  It was horrible and wonderful and awful.

I'm also back at a gig - this time singing with Oregon Bach Festival.  This is good.  And I have some very good friends here, including a couple who had their daughter a week after we lost Olivia.  And she's coming.  I have known about this, and I've been able to prepare, but how do you prepare, really?  I just emailed K. and said that I was excited and terrified, and didn't know how I would react, but I'm sure it will involve tears, and that I hoped we could do it in private for the first time.

But I did get to see my husband today, and this was good.  We'd had an ongoing fight this past week - and we NEVER fight - about something stupid, and finally resolved it last night, which was good.  Plus I just missed him.  Now eleven days and I get to see him for four whole days.  Woohoo. :)

Now must unpack and go to sleep.  I'll be seeing all sorts of people tomorrow, most of whom I haven't seen in a year, and I'm sure there will be tears.  Lots of them.  Tears of sadness, of gratitude, of love and friendship, but tears nonetheless.

And how my world has changed in the last few weeks.

Let's see:

Miami and Mexico were great.  Beautiful, some great sight-seeing, lots of great singing, only some limited drama from the college kids.  Although I think the powers that be wouldn't say "limited" drama....but that's a different story.

May 24 was our six month "anniversary."  I feel like I say this every month, but it feels simultaneously like so long ago and like it was yesterday.  We've had some pretty bad down days the last week or so.  Damn you, poignant TV.

The biggest, worst news, though, is that on May 26 my brother was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

J. is a total jock - we couldn't be more different - and started noticing some problems with his left leg about a month ago.  Three doctors and three MRIs later, they discovered a 3 cm long tumor in his brain.  Pretty scary shit.  We're all pretty freaked out and, seriously, someone up there must think we can handle a whole lot of crap, because this family has really had a bad streak as of late.

He goes in for surgery on June 15th.  So now I'm heading to Miami on the 6th for a gig, then directly to Wisconsin on the 14th, then back home on the 19th and out again for three weeks on the 21st.  It's going to be crazy, but I really wanted to be home.  For him, for my parents, for me, and for her - to support the uncle she never got to know.

Expletive.

Everyone but us.

I remember a friend of mine making a comment last fall about how so many of her friends were pregnant.  I was one of them.

I can't seem to turn around on Facebook now without someone having a baby or getting pregnant or finding out they're having a little girl.  I've had to start hiding people - I don't begrudge anyone's happiness, it just makes me feel shittier about my lack of it, you know? 

I've had a really rough last couple of days.  Seems like I'm always teary, or snapping at my husband and then feeling terrible about it.  It was something really stupid yesterday - I snapped at him while we were shopping - and then he got really upset, and then I felt like such a bitch.  That's not me; that's not us.  We don't bicker.  But as we're dealing with the stress of all this it creeps in once in a while, and I hate it. 

It's like there's always this anger and unhappiness bubbling inside of me, and when we're busy, I can keep it at bay.  But when I give myself time to think about things - about how unfair this is, about how much I miss her - it just breaks me.  Sometimes it just kills me to look at him - she looked SO much like her daddy, so when he's sleeping or falling asleep or yawning I just see her and I want to crack. 

I'm not worried about us - he is the reason I survive, he is the reason that I can go on and keep living despite this.  But I HATE myself when because I feel shitty I cause him pain.  It's not fair.

Ugh. 

And....cue face slap.

I've had a insanely busy last couple of days - last concert of the semester, finals/juries, studio party last night - and I've had little time to breathe, let alone process anything.  And have been fine, right?  It's not like I forget, it just becomes not in the forefront.

And then this morning I was sitting here, benignly reading an article, and thinking about how I needed to get in for a lesson again.  I haven't seen this woman for over a year, and I'm not sure how much she knows, so I was thinking about the conversation I'd have to have with her: Well, I've had a pretty traumatic last twelve months.  I got pregnant in March of last year and our daughter was stillborn at 36 weeks in November.

And then I lost it.  DH is giving a final this morning, so it's just me here.  I went in the nursery and sat on the bed (there's a full bed in there), and grabbing the little photo album we have of all of her ultrasounds (and we had a billion).  I was teary, and then got to the last picture, the ultrasound shot of her one week before we lost her, that has a perfect shot of her gorgeous little nose and chin, and I just sobbed.  Sometimes I go in there and just talk to her, and today it was about how my life should be so different now and it's not, and how much I miss her, and how she'll always be my little girl. 

And then I rang the bell - one of my students grew up in Japan, and after Olivia died she gave us a rin (this small bowl-shaped bell) and zabuton (the cushion it sits on) - it's often used in Buddhist prayer and in memory of someone.  She told us that when we're feeling down, to go and ring the bell three times, letting the sound ring, and it's a way to find peace and connection to her soul.  I'm not Buddhist, but I do find comfort in it - it's just basically a form of meditation.  And then I just sat in the room and talked to her more and about how I have to make her daddy fix the painting job he did in there.  :)

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I also finally heard back from the internist this week - she wants me to double the iron dose I'm taking and then check back in three months.  THREE MONTHS.  Ugh.  I should have gotten AF last weekend and still nothing, but once I've completed that (that will be round 2) I'm going to call my OB-GYN and ask what we should do.  If he says we should wait until the anemia thing is better, then that's what we'll do, but argh.

Deep breaths, one day at a time.  That's all I can do.

Five months.

I can't believe it's been that long.  I miss her so much.  I want to hold her, I want to listen to her, I want to smell her, I want to kiss her.

Fuck.