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.

Hanging on.

Super busy week - singing a gig with Seraphic Fire that's been pretty vocally taxing.  I was already woundede when I got down here so trying to do the best I can on less cylinders than I'm used to.

Sitting at a Starbucks on Miami Beach right now and there are a MILLION babies here.  It's getting easier, though.  It's easier for me to look at the babies as a mom-to-be who's trying to get pregnant and less as a mom who lost her baby.  Not all of the time - hell, if there's anything I've learned in this last year, there's exceptions to every rule - but I'm getting there.

Just found out one of my sort-of cousins (step-cousin, technically) is pregnant with triplets.  Egads.  But things have been sketchy - they're not sure one of them is going to make it.  We're not close, and me contacting her out of the blue I think would be weird.  But I'm thinking about her and those three wee ones, and hoping everything goes okay for them.

I've been really busy with teaching this fall - have lots of students and am teaching a few classes.  Getting paid crap, of course, because I'm an adjunct, but what can you do.  It's a job in my field, and I'm grateful for that.

Sigh.  Life is hard.  I used to say that and thought I knew what that meant.

For something non-baby and non-sad....

Just sayin'.

Ten months.

I hate these month posts.

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I haven't been moved to write as of late.  Life at school has been crazily busy, and that's taking a lot of my time.

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Another BFN last week.  But I'm still without AF, which is really frustrating.  I've never been irregular in my entire life, and have been since the pregnancy.  Makes it a lot more difficult to plan when I'm ovulating.

At the same time, I hate that I'm doing that.  I hate that I'm obsessing, and worrying.  We didn't have a problem getting pregnant before - only took four months!  But I'm doing it.  I'm thinking about it all the time, planning on when we should try, and that's not very fun.  I mean, really.

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Really happy for my buddy CurlsOFred for her pregnancy, though.  She's gonna be my role model. :)

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Family wedding last weekend where a 10-month-old boy was the ringbearer.  My niece, one of the flower girls, pulled him up on a big two-seater wagon.  The minute I saw it I knew Olivia would've been there and been a flower girl, and it just made me hurt.  All of these family things that she should be experiencing and that we should be experiencing with her.  This sucks so much.

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I'm already thinking about what to say to my students when I get pregnant again.  I said I was obsessing, right?  I mean, there's a whole new class of students this fall who have no idea what we went through last year.  And I feel like I need to prep them, but also prep myself so I don't get the inevitable "is this your first baby?"

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Miss you, Olive.  Every day.  We're learning to survive and thrive without you here physically, and have both grown separately and together so much in this last year.  We'd trade any of it to get you back, though.

Love you.

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.

Pressure, pressure, pressure.

I'm getting a little obsessed with TTC.  And I HATE that I'm doing that.  I keep looking at my body for those subtle changes I noticed in the first seven weeks, hoping to see something.

However.

I don't think this is all my fault.  The question I've gotten asked the most this fall is, "Are you guys trying again?"  It sorta seems like people think on some level that us having another baby will make our world "normal" again.

To these people, I offer up a hearty FUCK YOU.  Another baby will never replace our sweet Olivia.  Yes, it will give us a chance to have all of those experiences of having a baby that we didn't get to have with Olive, but another baby will never be Olive.  He or she will be his or her own perfectly flawed entity.

I do know, though, that I'm putting pressure on myself.  That, when and if AF comes to town next time, I'm going to be heartbroken.  And I wish I wasn't doing this - I keep trying to reason with myself, and then I catch myself thinking about it again.

Sigh.

Random ups and downs.

I haven't written at all for almost two weeks.  We've been so nuts with school - that's good, I suppose, but I do miss the down times of the summer.

J. and I are both down today.  Neither of us really know why, and early I was thinking about what things I could do to cheer him (or me!) up.  And I started thinking of all of those things I would have laughed at before but never will again.

I know they always say having a child changes you, and we were prepared for that.  But I was never prepared for this kind of grief and the ongoing stark realizations.  I will never be the same person again.  And I MISS that me, that version of me that was more carefree and more genial.

I really hope we get pregnant soon, although I know that will bring on a completely different set of challenges and worries.  But I'm hoping that the optimism and the excitement of that will help.  That's a lot of pressure to put on a child-to-be.  But he or she will be related to us, and we are TOUGH. :)

Nine months.

Wow.

Nine whole months.

I miss her every day.  We're doing pretty well today.  We each had a few moments of sadness, but we're hanging in there.

School started this week; I am exhausted already.  I will have a pretty full schedule this semester, which is good - as a lowly adjunct, more work actually means more money - but holy cow am I out of that routine.  The last time I was in this routine I had cut back quite a bit.  Not this fall.

We have a new teacher at school whose name is Olivia.  I have to admit, every time I hear someone say her name, I tighten up a bit.  I'm hoping that will get easier as time goes by.

Yeah.

It's one of those days where I just don't know what else to say.  I'm not better, I'm not worse, but I'm surviving.  I guess that's good.

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.

Thankful Tuesdays #5

I'm thankful for my dad.

Our car is old, and slowly, slowly dying.  And this past week he called us up to ask us some questions about some things that were going wrong, and he ordered a whole bunch of parts for us online and talked to a repair guy in town.  This embarrasses us somewhat, but, at the same time, he knows WAY more about cars than we do.

He was a rock when Olivia died, for all of us.  He was hurting too, and wasn't afraid to show that, and help us anyway he could.

We don't always agree - we couldn't be further apart on the political spectrum - but he's my dad, and he's awesome.

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.

Ugh.

It was one of those days where I was trolling through Facebook and kept seeing pictures of people with their newborns.  ugh.  I am jealous.  I am angry.  I am heartbroken.  I have baby fever like crazy but know that it won't bring Olive back.

School is right around the corner, and that is simultaneously good and bad.  Good because it's a distraction, good because work = money, good because on most levels I enjoy what I do.  Bad because I have to be back in the thick of it again, with clueless people and freaking children with babies; bad because it's the land of firsts again.  The first fall since I was pregnant with Olivia.

As my husband would say, I has a sad.  But I think I always will in some way.  That IS our normal.

I miss when things were easier.  When I didn't have a dead baby.  When I wasn't concerned about my marriage.  When there wasn't a sheet over the crib.  When it seemed like everything was right in the world.

But.

I'd rather have this than no Olive at all.  Because she was ours, the best parts of us.  This is horrible, no doubt, but it's horrible because we would have done anything for her.  And I am SO glad we went for that.  We may be in a lot of pain, but we are better people because of her.

God, I love and miss her so much.

Dealing with anger.

I had a moment a few days ago where I just got SO ANGRY at this whole situation.  I broke down crying - J and I were supposed to go grocery shopping, and I just lost it.  He left me at home and I just fell into bed and sobbed and punched and screamed.

That hasn't happened for awhile, and I don't know what brought it on.  But I'm doing better now.

As the school year gets closer and closer, it's things like that that worry me.  I mean, what if that happens, and I can't escape?

Sometimes I question whether or not I'm a strong enough person to deal with this.  But I'm writing this, and not crying.  And that makes me feel good.

Thankful Tuesdays #4

I am thankful for the INTERNETS.

I have found so much support this last year - during pregnancy, immediately afterward, and continuing.  It provides a way for my friends and family to keep bugging me even when I don't feel like answering the phone.  Facebook and Skype really work wonders.

This may seem trite, but, honestly, I cannot imagine going through what I've been through without it.

Start and stop.

I think I've started and deleted blog entries approximately 12 times this past week.

Nothing really major; I just didn't know what to say.  I look at this blog as therapy, but sometimes the thought of delving into it and opening up some wounds to figure out some stuff is just difficult.....easier to just avoid.

I'm dealing with a sinus infection and I got food poisoning this week....good times.  J. has been taking good care of me.  We're doing pretty well - still dealing with some of the fallout of the drama, but we're doing good.  Just have to keep talking - I have to encourage him to talk more about when he's unhappy.  And we're getting there.

The student of mine that had a baby girl same day we lost Olivia?  Well, I made the mistake of not hiding him on Facebook, and she crawled for the first time yesterday.  That sent me into a tailspin.  All of these firsts we haven't gotten to experience....all of these moments that SHE didn't get to experience.  It sucks.  It sucks SO MUCH.

We're half-heartedly trying to get pregnant - meaning, we're not stressing.  Just enjoying each other and if that's a happy by-product, excellent.

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.

Thankful Tuesdays #3

Today, I'm thankful for my marriage.  It's really been through the ringer this year, but I know it's going to be stronger than ever.

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.