Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Too many things

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.


  1. I had come to this conclusion some time ago-- that this will never end. Oddly, it's comforting, since it frees me from thinking about when am I supposed to be "over" it.
    And in the meantime, I get all sorts of stupid thoughts, like that getting locked up on bedrest right around starting to show sounds like a dandy idea to me-- this way not only would I escape stupid questions but I couldn't possibly hurt an infertile or a deadbabymama. You know?

    Hang on, ok?

  2. I don't even know what to type. I hope that you find comfort in talking to others who have the same experience. You don't always have to be the one comforting.

  3. These things can always creep up on you.


  4. All of your blogged words comfort me. Don't worry hun, I made it through and your blog was on my mind and helping the whole way. If you could do it, so could I. :)

  5. Lovely blog. Gonna figure out how to work it into mine.

  6. love you too

    I believe you when you say it's never totally better.

  7. I think I am starting to be that woman. The one who seems to have it together, who can talk about my loss intellectually and be a support to others. But if someone could look inside my head, and my heart, they would know that it still gets me. Pregnant bellies, twins, new babies... sometimes it is just for a second. But it still gets me.

  8. I want to thank you, thank you, thank you for your advice on keeping my uterus as healthy as possible in this pregnancy. In 50 comments, you were the only one who told me what I needed to hear. I now have a call in to my OB to find out if she wants me to start taking anything.

    In reference to your post--I don't think I will ever get used to seeing pregnant women, especially when I'm not expecting it.

  9. like many above have said, it can still get you. thinking of will get through the next 20 weeks.

  10. I have been struggling with similiar thoughts & feelings. My dirty little secret, I have visions of my daughter dying some horrible death, I slip on the stairs while holding her, I accidentally drop her off my balcony, she slips out of my wrap while walking accross a bridge. I am literally plagued with it. I don't allow anyone to wear sock feet while taking her upstairs, she is not allowed on the balcony and I hold onto her tight while walking across bridges. The thing is these visions are so real. I still haven't come to terms with the fact I have a real live baby. I am in counselling for it right now, it helps, but I am not sure when or how long it takes for it to all 'go away'.

    The wounds become scars and the scars are for life.

    Congrats on the pregnancy, I know I am late, been out of the blog reading for a bit.