I have so many things to blog about like the new Horton Hears a Who movie, and the politics of Dr.Suess, and Juno, and that episode of Law & Order:SVU last night and my goal to write a layman's explanation of my gene, PAI-1 4G/4G, cause nobody knows much about it, and I am seriously blocked, both in commenting and replying to emails. And this time it's not just pregnant brain. A lovely woman emailed me and her situation has been on my mind for days now. She has gone through retained placenta after her beautiful child was stillborn and so many many other sad things. (I think she's in the Pacific Northwest?) My heart is breaking for her. I just don't know what to write. Any ideas?
But really, the big problem is that I'm also ashamed of my arrogance. I recently told a different woman who emailed me that I was perfectly fine to hear all about her issues because I've been dealing with it for so long, like hey, I'm over all that grief stuff, right? Totally overconfident.
That was a big fat lie.
9 years since Matthew died, and contributing to Blogging for Choice 2008 day yesterday was too much. Last year's post will have to do I guess. I might think up another one for the Canadian Blogging for Choice 2008 day. Of course, that would require facing the four and a half years since Mira died when I can't even look at the U/S pictures. Three and a half years since Georgia died and I can only blog about it in short bursts. Don't get me wrong, many of the details aren't as sharply painful as they once were. Before I got pregnant I could go for days without obsessing about them and ruminating over details. But now, they are present all the time, on my mind.
Why they died. How they died. Did someone screw up? How can I prevent this from happening again? Did Georgia have to die? If I had used heparin shots then, would I have a three year old? Or did Mira & Georgia die because they were female? Is this baby alive, not because of heparin shots, but because he's a boy? Does my uterus kill female fetuses in some weird immunological way? How am I going to deal with the next 20 weeks? Heck, at this point, how do I tell my myriad causual acquaintances I'm pregnant? I can't hide it anymore, and I feel foolish with some people knowing and others not knowing. And I really don't want to tell my entire obstetrical history to somebody at a cocktail party.
I thought I had safely put this all back in the cupboard, but all it takes is reading something just a little too familiar or talking with my OB about all the decisions we have to make, based on my history, and I am right back where I started. And I know I'm not alone in this sadly.
I saw an old friend from my bereavement support group yesterday. I was shopping with Maddie, and this woman was shopping with a friend of hers. We met in a children's clothing store, of all places. She was looking for her things for her three boys, and I was contemplating buying something for the baby. She said hi, and I looked up and and said hi back and she congratulated me. (Apart from my obvious size, everyone in our group has an eagle eye and is always on bumpwatch.) I told her all my news, and turned to introduce my friend, but she had gone to the other end of the store. So we said goodbye and promised to get together for coffee.
I asked Maddie why she had left, and she said that when my old friend first saw my stomach, she had an absolutely stricken look on her face, which she quickly covered. She thought it was best to leave us alone. I was really surprised about this, because V.'s losses were so long ago and she has been a group leader and has seemed so together for so long. She has spoken to groups of professionals and newly bereaved moms and dads and reporters, and held it together no problem. Knowing that even she still has issues around seeing a pregnant woman is well, quite a revelation to me.
It never ends, does it? It gets quieter and smaller and we can "handle" it and it seems like nothing at all. Until it's a something. Even for a woman like her, who has subsequent successful pregnancies and is completely finished with pregnancies----it's never totally healed.
This is a confused and rambling post. I'm going to go. I just want you to know, I love you all, I just don't have the right words to comfort you sometimes.
It's not you. It's me.