Just a few things..
Still struggling with how much information regarding Aidan to share with others. My coworker got food poisoning the other day, and I mentioned that I've never had it before. Another coworker stated how lucky I was that I haven't and that he's had it and has never thrown up so much before in his life. Then I realized I've actually had similar symptoms when I was uncontrollably vomiting after taking Flagyl. I don't think this coworker knows about Aidan (he's new) and so I didn't bring it up.
Yesterday this same coworker brought up the movie Rocky, and others commented on how it's a classic and everyone should see it. I mentioned that I've seen it. I did not mention that I saw it at the hospital the morning after giving birth to Aidan.
...
I puked and rallied at lunch yesterday. Some coworkers and I went out for lunch and I was starrrving, so I scarfed down my food when it arrived. I got about halfway through when my stomach decided it wasn't happy. I went to the bathroom, threw it all up, then went back and continued eating.
...
Finding out about others' pregnancies still gives me anxiety, especially the ones who aren't BLMs. Glad everything's going so perfectly well for you.
...
I am dwelling on some comments that people said to me/Keith after Aidan died. Someone said something AWFUL to Keith back then and he just told me about it a few weeks ago, and that of course brought all of the hurtful comments back to my memory. Think before you speak, people. A simple "I'm so sorry" <<hug>> "What can I do to help?" would suffice. You may have a spiritual being in your world that kills children for a reason, but not in mine. And all of my children deserve a name, even if they died in the womb. Fuck you.
...
In happier news, we have the anatomy scan on Monday, so hopefully the little one will cooperate and we can find out the gender as well. The plan is to make some "gender reveal" cupcakes for work, with colored filling on the inside.
That's all I got.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
after the storm
after the storm
when the lightning has ceased
the thunder is silenced
the wind has calmed
and the rain is but a drizzle
you'll often times see a rainbow
i finally have my rainbow, 18 weeks in the making.
in 5 months this little one is supposed to arrive, supposed to be breathing, healthy, and alive. we are nervous. we are cautiously expecting. there is some comfort in the fact that we've passed Aidan's date of 17 weeks and 2 days, but we are still scared because we know anything can happen at any time.
i am doing my best to stay positive. i am trying to plan...car seats, strollers, the nursery. it is all very overwhelming yet almost comforting because it sort of forces me to think that this baby will actually make it.
we have a lot of support, and i thank all of you for your continued support and love. this is still a difficult journey but, as always, we're doing our best to make it through.
when the lightning has ceased
the thunder is silenced
the wind has calmed
and the rain is but a drizzle
you'll often times see a rainbow
i finally have my rainbow, 18 weeks in the making.
in 5 months this little one is supposed to arrive, supposed to be breathing, healthy, and alive. we are nervous. we are cautiously expecting. there is some comfort in the fact that we've passed Aidan's date of 17 weeks and 2 days, but we are still scared because we know anything can happen at any time.
i am doing my best to stay positive. i am trying to plan...car seats, strollers, the nursery. it is all very overwhelming yet almost comforting because it sort of forces me to think that this baby will actually make it.
we have a lot of support, and i thank all of you for your continued support and love. this is still a difficult journey but, as always, we're doing our best to make it through.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
one year
I am amazed that it has been a year already. One whole year without Aidan. It has been a rough, rocky year, full of ups and downs, but I'm glad I've reached this mark and am feeling as well as I do.
Today was good and relaxing. It went by quickly and I didn't break down. Keith and I played some computer games, we saw Ghost Rider (which sucked, but I bet Aidan would have liked it), ate some dinner, drank some good wine, and I made a layer cake!
Here are some pictures from today...
Today was good and relaxing. It went by quickly and I didn't break down. Keith and I played some computer games, we saw Ghost Rider (which sucked, but I bet Aidan would have liked it), ate some dinner, drank some good wine, and I made a layer cake!
Here are some pictures from today...
a toast to Aidan
I've managed to keep this guy alive for almost a year now (my cats like eating the leaves, hence the broken ones)
My parents got us an orchid plant in honor of Aidan (sorry for the crappy lighting)
It came with a cute little bear
This has been here for a while now, but this is Aidan's box, always surrounded by family
The layer cake! this is not the finished product...it's red velvet strawberry shortcake
Iced with cool whip. I've never made a cake like this before.
Topped with strawberries
Yum!
I want to give a huge THANK YOU to everyone who has thought of, prayed for, sent things, and did things in honor of Aidan today. I am overwhelmed by all of your support! I hope my little boy can see how much we all love him and how much he was wanted. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
To Aidan, I will always miss you, baby boy, but I will love you forever. Here's to you, on your one year angelversary.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
getting better
I've been thinking a lot about last year and those last days before Aidan's death. What gets me is how sudden all of it was. One moment I was happy and eating chocolate cake, the next I was freaking out in our bathroom while my heart was racing and I thought I was going to die.
Reliving those days is more like it. Every moment, every phone call, every conversation with every doctor. Those were terrible, terrible days. Those stupid antibiotics that made me vomit uncontrollably. My son suffocated to death inside me. With no amniotic fluid he had nothing to breathe. His heart was racing too, dangerously higher than mine, and he died.
I wanted to die too.
I would lie in bed at night after his death, reliving those days as I do now, consumed by sadness and depression. My heart medicine was only a few steps away in our bathroom.. Just a few extra pills would slow my heart down enough and release me from all of this pain. And then I could see my son again.
That would have been a selfish thing to do, though, and I reminded myself of that every time those thoughts came to my mind. Losing a child is hard enough and I did not want Keith to lose his wife too. Nor my family their daughter/niece/granddaughter/cousin/friend.
I got though that dark stage of my life. I'm crying as I write this but I swear I am so much better than I was before. There is still grief and sadness, but is not nearly as intense as it used to be. With time comes healing, but there will always be a scar to remind you of your pain.
I think I will be ok tomorrow, the anniversary of Aidan's death. We are going to see a movie and I am going to bake a cake. We will open some fancy wine from our trip to Napa, and we will celebrate our son's short life. Oh, I am sure I will cry, but I will get through this. I have to.
Reliving those days is more like it. Every moment, every phone call, every conversation with every doctor. Those were terrible, terrible days. Those stupid antibiotics that made me vomit uncontrollably. My son suffocated to death inside me. With no amniotic fluid he had nothing to breathe. His heart was racing too, dangerously higher than mine, and he died.
I wanted to die too.
I would lie in bed at night after his death, reliving those days as I do now, consumed by sadness and depression. My heart medicine was only a few steps away in our bathroom.. Just a few extra pills would slow my heart down enough and release me from all of this pain. And then I could see my son again.
That would have been a selfish thing to do, though, and I reminded myself of that every time those thoughts came to my mind. Losing a child is hard enough and I did not want Keith to lose his wife too. Nor my family their daughter/niece/granddaughter/cousin/friend.
I got though that dark stage of my life. I'm crying as I write this but I swear I am so much better than I was before. There is still grief and sadness, but is not nearly as intense as it used to be. With time comes healing, but there will always be a scar to remind you of your pain.
I think I will be ok tomorrow, the anniversary of Aidan's death. We are going to see a movie and I am going to bake a cake. We will open some fancy wine from our trip to Napa, and we will celebrate our son's short life. Oh, I am sure I will cry, but I will get through this. I have to.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
it stings
I became aware of some new pregnancies over these past few weeks. Hearing about them still stings. Being told about them in person is a lot better than seeing a post on facebook. When I see an ultrasound picture or an announcement on facebook, I feel like they're shouting this news at me. HA! LOOK WHAT I DID! I GOT PREGNANT AND I AM SO CONFIDENT ABOUT THIS PREGNANCY THAT I AM GOING TO ANNOUNCE IT TO THE WORLD AND FILL UP YOUR NEWSFEED WITH PICTURES SO YOU WON'T MISS IT! AND THEN EVERYONE WILL COMMENT ON MY AMAZING PICTURES AND THOSE COMMENTS WILL SHOW UP IN YOUR NEWSFEED TOO! MWAHAHAHAHA!
Obviously that is not true (I hope?), but that's how it feels, and it makes me want to run away and hide. Or say fuck you. Losing a child is not fun. TTC and failing every single month is not fun. It just seems so foreign and shocking to hear about another pregnancy and to see such confidence these women have that they're willing to share this information with the world. Just because you're past 12 weeks doesn't mean you're safe. Not to instill worry into anyone who is pregnant, but being pregnant doesn't always equal a live baby in the end.
I just wonder when it will stop hurting. When hearing about someone's pregnancy will make me smile instead of cringe.
Obviously that is not true (I hope?), but that's how it feels, and it makes me want to run away and hide. Or say fuck you. Losing a child is not fun. TTC and failing every single month is not fun. It just seems so foreign and shocking to hear about another pregnancy and to see such confidence these women have that they're willing to share this information with the world. Just because you're past 12 weeks doesn't mean you're safe. Not to instill worry into anyone who is pregnant, but being pregnant doesn't always equal a live baby in the end.
I just wonder when it will stop hurting. When hearing about someone's pregnancy will make me smile instead of cringe.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
v day
One year ago today, on February 14, 2011, I felt Aidan kick for the first time. I was suspicious of that little nudge at first, thinking it was just gas bubbles, but then it happened again, and I just knew it wasn't another gas bubble. And at least once a day until his death I felt that tiny little kick. I'd lay in bed, trying to feel for his kick. I knew it was very early to feel anything at all, but I tried, and loved it when I felt it (though I never felt it with my hand). I still get gas bubbles (funny.. I never noticed them before I was pregnant) and each one reminds me of him. Oh to feel his kick again..
Keith bought me flowers last year, as he does every year, and had them delivered to my office. This bouquet came with a bright red plastic heart necklace draped around the vase. I thought at the time how the necklace complemented the vase well (which was also a bright red) but what the heck was I going to do with a plastic heart necklace? I'm not a hoarder, but I have this thing with hanging on to special objects, and even though it was something I'd never use or wear, I knew I would keep it for at least a few years until I'd had enough of it. All because it was from Keith. Anyway... that plan changed and now I will keep that heart forever. Shortly after Aidan's death I bought a shadowbox for some of his mementos, like his "birth certificate" and hospital wristband that he never wore. The heart hangs within the shadow box, above his things, protecting them.
Funny how this little piece of plastic and a few gas bubbles are such strong reminders of my son.
Keith bought me flowers last year, as he does every year, and had them delivered to my office. This bouquet came with a bright red plastic heart necklace draped around the vase. I thought at the time how the necklace complemented the vase well (which was also a bright red) but what the heck was I going to do with a plastic heart necklace? I'm not a hoarder, but I have this thing with hanging on to special objects, and even though it was something I'd never use or wear, I knew I would keep it for at least a few years until I'd had enough of it. All because it was from Keith. Anyway... that plan changed and now I will keep that heart forever. Shortly after Aidan's death I bought a shadowbox for some of his mementos, like his "birth certificate" and hospital wristband that he never wore. The heart hangs within the shadow box, above his things, protecting them.
Funny how this little piece of plastic and a few gas bubbles are such strong reminders of my son.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
february
February is here. I know that's quite the obvious statement, but I've been dreading its arrival. Aidan was born in February, and in less than 20 days it will be his birthday.
February is my least favorite month of the year, and it has been since even before Aidan died. February is the month of gloom and depression. Winter has usually kicked in full force by now, several inches of snow blanket the ground, and you're not sure if you'll ever see a sunny day again. February is when seasonal affective disorder kicks in for me, when my saddest thoughts occupy my mind and make me just want to give up on everything. Aidan's death made February even worse.
Surprisingly we have had a very mild winter this year (so far). We've had some snow accumulate on the ground, but within the next day or so the sun comes out and melts it all away. I was actually smiling on my drive home from work Monday night because the night hadn't come yet, the sun was setting behind me, and the entire sky was painted in these glorious faded shades of a rainbow. It was so beautiful.
But it is still February and I am waiting for the winter to come and the depression to kick in. I have been thinking a lot about Aidan's birth/death/angel-day and what we should do. That day is already special in my mind, but I don't want to treat it as an ordinary day. I don't want to sit at home and do laundry and play computer games all day. I want to DO something. But... not with other people. Just me and Keith. I don't think I could show up to an event, hang out with friends or go to a party that day. Not yet, at least. A few months ago my coworker revealed that he, too, had lost a child. The day he told me this was the day of his son's angelversary. It seemed so strange that he was even there, at work, acting as if it were a normal day. Aidan's birthday is on a Sunday this year, which I am thankful for (no work, no commitments), but I would probably take the day off if it were on a workday. I then found out that my coworker's child died several years ago from a degenerative medical condition. He was 8 years old. So he's had a few years of angelversary practice. I was surprised to hear that he had lost a son too, but saddened as the list of friends and family who have lost a child (children) is ever-growing. We had a beer at the end of the day to celebrate his son's short life. I wonder if he did anything else to celebrate.. or mourn.. that day. I never asked. But I hope that someday I can make it through Aidan's birthday with the calm and ease that my coworker presented.
So what will we do? I want to do something that we can do every year. Turn it into a tradition. That no matter where we are or what our life has become, we can celebrate/mourn Aidan's life and death the same way each year. One thing I would really like to do is bake a cake. I've seen other babylost parents do this, and I think it's a fantastic idea. I love to bake and who doesn't have cake on their birthday? I think I've figured out what kind of cake to bake as well, but I'll leave that as a surprise in case I change my mind. I would like to go somewhere that day too.. even if it's just to a movie or out to dinner. Something we would have done as a family if he were still alive. Lastly, I would love it if *you* did something special on his birthday. Something in honor of Aidan. Light a candle, donate clothes or blankets or hats to a hospital, release a balloon, gaze at the sunrise or sunset, or just say a little prayer for him. Take a picture of it or tell me about what you did. Just knowing that someone else is out there thinking of him on his birthday means so much to me. My e-mail address is godess (at) comcast.net. (Yes, one d. It's lame, I know, but I've had it since middle school.) Aidan was born on February 26, 2011 at 7:09pm. Thank you to all who would like to celebrate his short life with me. I truly appreciate it.
February is my least favorite month of the year, and it has been since even before Aidan died. February is the month of gloom and depression. Winter has usually kicked in full force by now, several inches of snow blanket the ground, and you're not sure if you'll ever see a sunny day again. February is when seasonal affective disorder kicks in for me, when my saddest thoughts occupy my mind and make me just want to give up on everything. Aidan's death made February even worse.
Surprisingly we have had a very mild winter this year (so far). We've had some snow accumulate on the ground, but within the next day or so the sun comes out and melts it all away. I was actually smiling on my drive home from work Monday night because the night hadn't come yet, the sun was setting behind me, and the entire sky was painted in these glorious faded shades of a rainbow. It was so beautiful.
But it is still February and I am waiting for the winter to come and the depression to kick in. I have been thinking a lot about Aidan's birth/death/angel-day and what we should do. That day is already special in my mind, but I don't want to treat it as an ordinary day. I don't want to sit at home and do laundry and play computer games all day. I want to DO something. But... not with other people. Just me and Keith. I don't think I could show up to an event, hang out with friends or go to a party that day. Not yet, at least. A few months ago my coworker revealed that he, too, had lost a child. The day he told me this was the day of his son's angelversary. It seemed so strange that he was even there, at work, acting as if it were a normal day. Aidan's birthday is on a Sunday this year, which I am thankful for (no work, no commitments), but I would probably take the day off if it were on a workday. I then found out that my coworker's child died several years ago from a degenerative medical condition. He was 8 years old. So he's had a few years of angelversary practice. I was surprised to hear that he had lost a son too, but saddened as the list of friends and family who have lost a child (children) is ever-growing. We had a beer at the end of the day to celebrate his son's short life. I wonder if he did anything else to celebrate.. or mourn.. that day. I never asked. But I hope that someday I can make it through Aidan's birthday with the calm and ease that my coworker presented.
So what will we do? I want to do something that we can do every year. Turn it into a tradition. That no matter where we are or what our life has become, we can celebrate/mourn Aidan's life and death the same way each year. One thing I would really like to do is bake a cake. I've seen other babylost parents do this, and I think it's a fantastic idea. I love to bake and who doesn't have cake on their birthday? I think I've figured out what kind of cake to bake as well, but I'll leave that as a surprise in case I change my mind. I would like to go somewhere that day too.. even if it's just to a movie or out to dinner. Something we would have done as a family if he were still alive. Lastly, I would love it if *you* did something special on his birthday. Something in honor of Aidan. Light a candle, donate clothes or blankets or hats to a hospital, release a balloon, gaze at the sunrise or sunset, or just say a little prayer for him. Take a picture of it or tell me about what you did. Just knowing that someone else is out there thinking of him on his birthday means so much to me. My e-mail address is godess (at) comcast.net. (Yes, one d. It's lame, I know, but I've had it since middle school.) Aidan was born on February 26, 2011 at 7:09pm. Thank you to all who would like to celebrate his short life with me. I truly appreciate it.
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