Survival

I survived Christmas Eve with the 50+ cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles and in-laws. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, but I did skip the caroling with the children and hid away in my room for about an hour when things got to be too much for me. It was a nice time, but my daughter was still missing and I still pictured her with her cousins, despite my best efforts not to. A few of them are as old as she would have been, and it was hard to see them and wonder "why her? why not them?" As horrible as that sounds, it's what crosses my mind sometimes.

It's the end of another year, the first full year I've spent without my daughter. It's been 19 months since she died, and I can't believe I survived. When I think back on the early days after her death I am at once horrified, amazed and saddened all over again. My birthday was 2 weeks after her death and my father insisted on taking us to dinner. I thought it might be good to get out of the house for a little while, but had no idea how terrifying it would be to be in public again. I sat in the resturant fat and miserable, watching the fully-pregnant hostess seat people around us. She was all I could see. I remember nothing of the conversation, except constantly wiping tears from my eyes with my napkin. I remember going to the ladies' room and seeing this hugely fat person in the mirror, so obviously recently pregnant, and imagining the baby in the carrier I should have had. I had a hard time leaving the restroom. It felt so obvious to me that I was without a baby, like everyone in the world could tell I just had a baby. I cried all the way home. I didn't leave the house again for 6 weeks.

I went back to work after 8 weeks. Thankfully, I work from home and can schedule my appointments at my convenience. Unfortunately, sometimes a customer needs me and I have to be on their schedule. About 2 weeks after my return, one of my customer's salesmen called me for a joint sales lunch with a client. I work with 99% men in the construction industry - they have all been kind and sympathetic during my return - mostly they're uncomfortable and don't want to make me uncomfortable. It worked out well. Anyway, I met my customer and his customers (one of which was a size '0' petite woman) and sat down to lunch. After she stared at my post-partum belly, she asked "so how's the baby?" I was looking at my menu and felt a hot flash creep up my neck to my face. I thought she was asking me because she stared at my belly when we waited for a table. My colleague answered "He's fine. He's 6 weeks old today and mom & baby are great." I HAD NO IDEA HIS WIFE HAD A BABY. I thought I'd die. After that day, I started keeping X.anax in my purse just in case.

I remember one day during the first few weeks, my husband drove me to my psychiatrist's appointment and we planned to go for a 'walk' in a park where we liked to hike. Just to get out during the sunshine and get some fresh air. I came out of the Dr's office and just sobbed and sobbed that I was done - I wanted to die. I can never survive this - please let me die. I have never in my life felt so fucking crazy. I mean, truly out of my mind. I was screaming and crying and out of control and felt like my mind was breaking into little pieces. I couldn't make a coherent thought except that I needed to die to make this pain go away. I have no idea how my husband saved me from myself that day, but he did. I started anti-depressants that day and admitted to myself that I couldn't survive this without them.

All of these memories bring me to tears. Thinking of the excruciating emotional pain I was in while I was grieving - I still can't believe I'm here. I think I woke up every day for the first few weeks, sobbing that I wanted to kill myself to be with her. For several weeks afterwards, I couldn't sleep at all, except by taking an Ambien-CR and a X.anax together, which woul net me about 5 hrs of sleep. I was shaking from anxiety, heart racing, sweat pouring, tears flowing, all the while, breasts leaking. I learned to nap during baseball, because listening to the announcers was better than listening to the thoughts/voices that swirled in my tormented head. I never thought I'd sleep through the night again.

I can't believe I survived the past 19 months. 2008 was horrible, 2009 was just as bad. Now I am pregnant again, and although I'm very grateful to be pregnant again, I'm terrified of all the ways a baby can die inside of you. I hope 2010 will be a better year. I hope I won't have to go through this again, because I'm not sure I will survive a second time.

A Sad Christmas

It's been a crazy weekend - I truly feel bipolar most days.

While I am overjoyed to be pregnant again and finally on my way (once again) to having a family, I am overwhelmed with missing my daughter, especially during this holiday season. Everything around me reminds me that she is not here with us. The holidays just make it worse.

We are spending Christmas Eve and Day with my in-laws in CT. Each year, all of the cousins bring their families and we all celebrate Christmas Eve together. Besides the two youngest cousins, DH & I are the only couple without children. We will have DH's children from his first marriage, of course, but they are not mine. They don't live with us. Because they live with their horrible mother, we are not as close as we could have been. Anyway - the festivities will be loaded with children. Many of them the same age Kara would have been. One really corny tradition they do, is they bring the little children upstairs to sing Christmas carols while looking at the sky, looking for Santa's sleigh. When the sleigh bells ring downstairs, it means that Santa has come and everyone runs downstairs to open their gifts. I used to think it was ridiculous. Now that Kara is dead, I think it's so fucking sad that she will never be able to experience that. The children are so excited when they're upstairs singing carols, and when the sleigh bells ring, it's amazing to watch their faces when they run downstairs to start ripping open gifts. I feel like she has been cheated out of this silly tradition, and cheated out of such a wonderfully, close-knit family, that can get together every holiday and there is never any back-biting, never any arguments, never someone talking bad about another person. We're talking 50+ people here. It is amazing and I wish Kara could have been alive to witness it and to be a part of it. It brings tears to my eyes just knowing that she is missing from this important family holiday. I guess I feel cheated too.

I basically spent all day on Sunday in bed, sick with grief and longing. I know these days are going to be a part of my life from now on, but every time they hit me, I am still surprised by their intensity. Housework is ignored, errands are skipped, time is spent sleeping it off until a better day comes. Much like a hangover, in fact. It even lingers another day or two and I feel I can't get back to myself as quickly as I'd like.

I am pregnant, and that is something to be thankful for. I do have good news to share with our family this holiday season. At least I don't have to endure Christmas Eve with all of those families and children around, without knowing that I too, have a baby (babies?) on the way. It does give me hope. I hope these babies make it out alive. I am terrified - but that is for another post, another day.

18 months today

Today is the 18-month angelversary of Kara's death. I miss her today as much as the day she left us. I miss her with every fiber of my being - I can't even describe how much I miss this little person and what she brought to our lives.

I found out on Monday that I'm pregnant again. And I'm excited, and grateful, and overwhelmed (and still in shock). But guess what? The joy of my new pregnancy does not diminish my grief over losing my first child. I knew it wouldn't, but whenever one of my fellow babylost mama's blogged that she was pregnant, I immediately 'wrote them off' as being not like me anymore. They are getting over their grief and they have another baby to look forward to. I could not be more wrong. Being pregnant again definitely adds joy to my life, when I sorely needed it. I have hope again. I actually think I have a future, again. But I am also very sad that it's Christmas again, and my first child will not be here to enjoy it with the rest of the family. It breaks my heart that we have to decorate her grave, while her cousins get to open presents and play with their toys while she lies in her grave. There are 3 or 4 babies on my husband's side of the family who were born within weeks of Kara's death. I will have to face all of them on Christmas Eve, without my child there. It will be brutal. The only thing getting me through this holiday season, is knowing that I am pregnant again and that I am moving forward....not standing still mired in grief. I am still grieving, and I always will be. I will never 'get over' Kara's loss, nor will I ever be able to accept her death fully and be at peace with it. It will always tear my heart wide open.

We decided to decorate the house this year and to put up a tree. We didn't celebrate the holiday last year because of Kara's death, and it was an impossibly difficult time for both of us. I remember watching 'El Torino' in the theatre on Christmas Day, and crying throughout the whole movie, every time I remembered it was Christmas and that my baby was dead. It just kept coming back to slap me every time I thought about anything else for one minute. This year we will celebrate the holiday with family, knowing that while we grieve for Kara, we are also blessed with another pregnancy and some hope for our future. I hope it makes the season a bit more bearable.

I have not fogotten, nor has this pregnancy healed my grief. But it has made life a bit more happy and given us something to look forward to besides death. It has given us hope again. It has given us life.

BETA Results

1st Beta HCG Levels - 477.8
Prog Levels - 47.21

I AM PREGNANT!!!!!!!

I can't believe we got the BFP! I truly thought this would never happen to me again. Failure after failure and failure...and here we are. With one, possibly two babies on the way. I'm so excited and overwhelmed right now.

This is all I wanted - to please let me get on with starting my family. I have been through enough already. I'm ready to just skip this pregnancy and have my baby, please, thank you very much. I have struggled with IF for several years, failed with numerous IUI's, lost my full term baby after IVF#3, and 18 months, $100K and lots of grief and tears later, lo & behold IVF#8 works. I even have 3 frosties! YAY!

Now if I can just get through the next 9 months without losing my mind over every OB appointment. I'll never forget when we couldn't find Kara's heartbeat. I fear I'll never be able to walk into another OB appointment without my husband there with me.

We will get through this. I will get to hold a real, live baby at the end of this pregnancy. Please, God.

Reasons to be Thankful

Sometimes I get so focused on how fucked up my life has become, that I don't stop and appreciate those things to be thankful for. Despite the fact that I'm infertile and my child is dead, I do have to be thankful for the good things in my life. It keeps me sane.
As I head into another holiday season without my child, it's time I make that list again:

1. My daughter Kara. She taught me the true meaning of love. When the nurses placed her body in my arms, I thought I had never seen a more beautiful, perfect thing in my entire life. Her life and her death has taught me compassion, respect for life, love for family and countless other lessons. She was a blessing.

2. My husband. My rock. He has supported me 110% during my time of need. I have been a fragile 'mess' since losing Kara. Roaming around the house aimlessly, crying for days on end, and he has been there to support me and hold me up. He is amazing.

3. My family. As crazy as they are, they have been superb in supporting us in our grief and healing. My Dad stops at Kara's grave every time he visits (which still makes me cry with gratitude). My brother and his wife fed us for weeks after her loss. I couldn't even get off the couch, and they drove 1 hour each way to bring us meals. They cooked, cleaned and listened. They were amazing. My brother was the 'moderator' during my hospital stay. He made sure my parents read the stillbirth literature and knew what NOT to say to us. I love him so much. My mom - she's a bit crazy, but she means well. She has been amazing and supportive and I love her for it. She makes holiday decorations for Kara's gravesite and it's so touching that she puts so much thought into every holiday. And she has not once criticized me for my weight - which is amazing in and of itself.

4. My pregnancy. I cherish every kick, flip, hiccup, and somersault I ever felt. Kara was an amazing, stong little fighter and she kept me up many, many nights with her acrobatics. I miss her terribly. And I'm thankful I had the chance to hold her for her entire life. I am so lucky to have experienced pregnancy with her.

5. My job. I have bee a literal MESS this entire year and a half since she died. Any other company would have fired me a long time ago. Thankfully, I work from home and set my own travel schedule. I am able to 'hide' when I need to and work when I can. I am so thankful that I have this job, as much as it bores me, because I'm the only one working right now (DH is in school full time) and the economy sucks. We could be fucked if I lost my job too.

6. My husband's decision to sell his company. DH was CEO and a minority shareholder in an overseas company that he helped to build over 20 years. He traveled 80% of the time and we never saw each other. One month before Kara died, he sold his share to the majority partner and was free to go back to school for his EMBA. We didn't count on him being out of work the entire 2 years, but so far that's the way it's been. Of the money he made through the sale of the company, we've burned through 100K in IVF fees this year, $100K on DH's MBA tuition, and another $100K in his child support payments. We are running very low on money, but thankfully I'm working and he will be going back to work within 6 months. I am SO thankful that he was able to be home with me over the past 18 months. I would have died without him.

There are many other things I'm thankful for. But these are the ones I thank God for every night. It helps to keep me in touch with the reality that my life doesn't entirely suck. It sucks that Kara is not here with us. It sucks that I have to endure a minute without her. But I focus on the fact that I had her, that she was alive for 9 months, and that I am a better person for having known her.

4dp5dt

I am out of my mind with anticipation over this possible pregnancy. I SO BADLY want to pee on a stick, but I know it won't help my state of mind. I'm sure it's too early anyway. 4 days after a 5 day transfer? What the hell am I thinking?

I want this pregnancy so badly, that I'm terrified of a negative BETA on Monday. I have been in such a deep, dark, lonely place since Kara died 18 months ago, and I've only begun to start feeling good/okay in the last few weeks. What if it's negative? Will I go crashing down into that pit of despair once again? fuck. I've been on such a 'high' these past few days especially, that I'm sure the fall will be extremely painful. I think of IVF #5 back in Feb of this year. I was still emotionally raw from losing Kara, and probably too frail to endure the ups & downs of another IVF cycle, but that's neither here nor there. I was desperate to conceive and gladly entered the clinic's cycle every 3rd month. Anyway, we had (1) normal embryo and when the doctor called with the good news, I felt I was having an out of body experience - the joy was so intense. We transferred the (1) embryo and I went about my life, fully expecting for it to work. I was traveling to Upstate NY on the day of my BETA, and rec'd the phone call about 2 hours into my 5 hr trip. My BETA was negative. (I found out later that the embryo, while testing 'normal' after PGD, did not look like a high-quality embryo. I wish I would have ASKED on the day of transfer!!!!! I would have at least prepared me for failure.) I had to endure a meeting, lunch with a client, and another 2 hour ride to my hotel, after hearing the news. I remember getting inside my hotel room and literally falling apart. I sobbed uncontrollably and thoughts that went through my mind were of never being able to get pregnant again. Never having a live child. How could I live my life without children? I was inconsolable.

I never want to be in that place again. The feeling of hopelessness and anger at my own inability to conceive, was devastating. Combine all of this with the loss of my child, and I am extremely fragile. Maybe I'm not as fragile now as I was then. I don't know. I hope I'm stonger. I hope I'm able to weather that storm better than I was 10 months ago. All I know is, that I never want to go to that dark place again. I would rather be dead.

I keep thinking good thoughts. The little embryos inside of me were the highest-quality embryos possible. They were already hatching. They were perfect. I stayed on bed rest for 2 days after transfer, just to be sure. I haven't worked out or exerted myself one tiny bit. I just have to keep my head about me until next Monday.

Transfer Day!

I received a call from my RE early this morning ( I love him!). We have 6 'normal' eggs according to the PGD testing.

One is 'absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and should be transferred immediately.'

2 others were beautiful and were either ready for transfer or freezing.

The 3 remaining would be watched carefully over the weekend for growth and would be frozen if/when they were ready.

:::::drumroll please:::::::

We transferred twins - a boy and a girl! YAY!

We have one girl frozen and 3 more possibilities for freezing.

I'm so excited.

I've been laying in bed all day waiting for these little ones to implant.

I feel like I have a new lease on life. I know I still have to get to the LIVE baby part, but reward doesn't come without some risk. I really, really want a family of my own, and in order to achieve that, I have to try to have another baby. I don't think I could survive the death of another baby. I'm terrified. But I'm also hopeful, and that's something for someone who has been living in the dark cave of grief and sorrow for the past 17 months. I feel like I am out in the light, breathing fresh, clean air, feeling the weight lifted off of my shoulders.

1st BETA on Monday November 30th.

I just hope I don't pee on a stick before then.

My Wonderful Donor

My donor went in for retrieval yesterday and we have 9 eggs. I'm very excited and feel so optimistic about this cycle. But I wanted to share something with you all.

I gave my nurse the gift basket with the card for the donor yesterday. This morning I opened up an email from my nurse who wanted to share an email from my donor. This is her email:

I just wanted to let you know that the recipient couple truly touched my heart today. I have always known why I was doing this, but this was the first time that somebody made it personal. I cried about their thoughtfulness before I even read their story and then I cried even harder. In a situation like this where I have been treated so anonymously it was nice to know that this couple was exactly the type of people I wanted to help and that I wasn't just someone in a profile. In all their devastation and desperation for a family they were still sweet and kind enough to think of me.

Several times I have brought up the topic of egg donation to people in attempts to get them to help others, most situations left me wondering why people were so hostile to the process of giving such a huge gift to those who were desperately in need of it. When there are so many people out there that are aborting their children or treating them like they were the biggest mistake of their lives, it is so unfortunate to think of such a deserving couple as this that honestly deserves a shot at happiness. I understand now how easy it would be to be a surrogate for such a wonderful couple.

My heart goes out to them and all they have endured. My children are the best thing that I have ever done. With everything I possess I will pray that they will receive the one thing they have been craving- the conception and delivery of a beautiful and healthy child.

By the way, the gift basket was wonderful. I love to eat sweets about as much as I love to make them. My kids always tell me how lucky they are that their mommy bakes all the time. I also love to give gifts far more than I like to receive them. (my boyfriend) said that it was like they knew me or that they were a lot like me- it was very fitting.

Please tell them that I wish them all the best.

I am touched beyond words. I am full-on crying right now. Wow. I picked a real sweetheart.

Sunday Retrieval

Tomorrow is retrieval day - yay! DH has an 8am date with a cup and I'll be accompanying him because I have nothing better to do than to obsess over m reproductive future. Miss DE will be there later in the day for her retrieval. We will not be crossing paths.

But I had an idea that I wanted to thank her for her time, effort and her commitment to this process, in addition to her oocytes. I want to express my thanks for the life-changing opportunity that she has given to me. In my view, $8,000 doesn't cover it. The injections, the weight gain, the mood swings, the retrieval, the donation itself. It's all simply overwhelming to me. I am awed by her decision to be a part of this process.

I feel I owe her a bit of personal gratitude. I would not feel right if I didn't somehow express myself in writing. How can I let her go in for the procedure tomorrow without knowing how grateful I am? So I ordered her a gift basket from a local bake shop and I'm enclosing a card.

Dear Ms. Wonderful,

I can't let you leave here today without expressing my deep gratitude for what you have given me. Without you, I felt I had no future.

My husband and I have been undergoing infertility treatments for 3 years in our earnest to start a family. 2 years ago, I conceived on my 3rd IVF attempt, but our precious daughter was born still at 38 weeks. Grief and sorrow have encompassed our lifes for the past 17 months as we have tried to piece together our lives while enduring 4 more IVF attempts. It has been a long, difficult road for us and I just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the gift you have given us.

Thank you so very much.

Rescheduled and Update

I received an email from my Nurse today - retrieval will be Sunday or Monday - I'll know definitely tomorrow. And it looks like 8 follicles will be ready. Not 10. Not 9. 8. I feel like I paid for 30. But I'm trying not to be greedy or negative. I need to be satisfied with what I'm getting.

Let's hope we have a majority of PDG-healthy embryos.

So transfer is next Thursday or Friday, depending on retrieval.

Am I selfish for wanting more than 8? I wanted 15, really. That's what I thought I'd get. 8 makes me nervous. We paid a ton of money for this DE cycle. 8 is frightening when you consider the attrition rate after PGD testing (50%). Fuck. And DH is not working yet (still in graduate program) so we're running out of money. We spent over $100K on IVF since Kara died just 17 months ago. RIght about now I start worrying about money again, and the possibility of never having any children at all. 8 is just not enough for my comfort level. Fuck.

Wish me luck. Let's hope I at least get 6 healthy embies.

Saturday

My RE's appointment went very well.

Lining = 9.8

D-follicles = 9 good-sized follicles (possibly a 10th)

Retrieval is scheduled for Saturday.

Which means a 5DT next Thursday.

:::Phew:::

Trying not to get too excited. Trying not to feel so guilty about feeling so good. Trying not to get my hopes up, after all, once your baby dies it's hard to imagine EVER holding a real live baby.

I love my RE's office. The Doctor, Nurses and Admin Staff are all awesome. Excellent communication, great scheduling, never a wait, etc. I never have to call twice for an answer to any of my questions. I love them. But this has to stop. It's not cool when the head Nurse tells me I'm like family now. I'm not laughing.

I'm so ready to start a real, live family. I can't live like this forever - missing my only child and feeling like I'll never have another child. I just can't.

Please, please, please, let me, let me, let me, let me get what I want this time.
~Morrissey

Thanks for all of your support ladies. I don't know what I'd do without you guys as a sounding board.

10 Follicles - wow!

I have to talk in code here because I'm not sure who IRL reads this blog. And when you 'google' my real name, it leads you to this blog. So I'll allude to much here.

I got a call from the RE's office today - 'She' walked in and all of the nurses knew who 'She' was there for, just by looking at her. How cool is that? Pretty darn cool. And we have 10 follicles! Yay! I'm feeling wildly optimistic that this time we'll bring a baby home. Wow. 10 follicles. Part of me wishes it were more like 15-20, but I'll take ten. Even considering the expectation that 50% will be abnormal (according to my RE) that leaves 5. I'm nervous that it's not enough, yet excited that it's way more than I usually retrieve. Usually I get 5 and 3 make it to day 5, and all are abnormal after PGD.

So....10.

We're on our way.

I'll get an update on my lining tomorrow and more on the follicles after tomorrow's visit.

Could this finally be it?

Excited and nervous. Hoping this cycle works.

Sunday Ramblings...

Today was a peaceful, beautiful day here in the Northeast. The leaves are in glorious full color and the temperature was in the low 70's today - how fabulous for November. I woke up early, had coffee on the deck with DH, went for a 4-mile walk together, and cleaned my house. What a great day.

His teenage kids were here last night - we drove them home to NY this afternoon and once they were dropped off, the conversation turned to our baby Kara.

DH is a full-time MBA student right now. When he's working on a project or studying for an exam, he invests 110% of himself. He basically 'disappears' inside of himself while he's focused on something. And every time that 'something' is done, he grieves again. DH likes to talk about how Kara would have been, and how we know her personality even though she never breathed a breath outside of the womb. Today he woke up worried about a project he handed in yesterday. He said that Kara would have told him to stop worrying about that fucking project and get on with the next task. He chuckled, then got quiet. I believe this is his way of coping with her death. An unexplained death of a genetically healthy 38-week old baby in the womb - how does one deal? A perfect, beautiful baby. One that was SO WANTED...how do you live your life with this? We visited the cemetary on the way home and spent some time with baby. DH told me he would do anything to take this pain away from me and to bring her back. He would jump in front of a train, take his own life in any way necessary, to bring her back. He's a good man and he is suffering. And all I can do it hold him and tell him I love him. Such a helpless feeling.

The love I feel for him, especially at a time like this is overwhelming. I know many babylost parents break up after the loss of their child(ren). It's an overwhelming life event, one that alters how you will forever look at and live your life. Crying jags are a constant companion and lost days/weeks are the norm. Mutual respect and support for how an individual grieves, is crucial to maintaining your marriage. I am so in love with this person - even more so than when I married him 5 years ago. And the fact that he grieves with me, makes me feel less alone.

Life is hard. It's really fucking hard. People die. Everything dies. We must embrace the good moments we have, however few, and cherish them while we can.

Today was a good day. I tried to embrace it and enjoy it while I could.

My brain on L.upron & E.strogen

Today I'm full of mixed emotions. Anticipation, anxiety, sadness, hopelessness, despair, worry. I've started my 8th and final (i think) IVF cycle and this time it better damn well work. Cycling this many times within 16 months of my baby's death is torturous to my body and mind, so much so that it's almost inhuman.

I am a bit excited about this cycle because as most of you know, I'm pretty certain this time will work. I'm speaking in code here, because I'm not sure exactly who IRL is reading this blog. So, I'm 80% sure this cycle will work - coming from my RE's lips to God's ears. So I'm just a tiny bit hopeful that I will be able to bear the Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays knowing that a little bundle of joy is definitely on the way. Transfer is tenatively scheduled for sometime between 11/19 - 11/23, so I still have a few weeks to go before launch.

I'm anxious about this cycle, too. This cycle is costing well over $30,000, meaning our total IVF costs over the past 16 months have been astonishing. We are tapped out, DH is still in a full-time MBA program, and we have to live off of our savings until graduation in May 2010. Anxiety abounds over the state of the economy and his prospects for work, etc. and so on. Oh...why can't I just get pregnant naturally like most people? Money anxiety leads to worry, worry leads to depression. Not good.

The sadness is creeping in again, not that it ever truly 'goes away' but since my meds have been increased, I've been feeling pretty good. Sometimes it hits me again that she is truly g-o-n-e forever, and I feel the weight pressing down on my chest again, threatening to suffocate me. I look at her perfect little photo on my desk and I want to smash things, punch through walls, scream at God (which I do frequently). I get so angry and sad, conflicting feelings threatening to consume me and only ending in tears.

I despair that I will never get pregnant. What if I get pregnant and future child does not measure up to Kara? What if I always hold a special place in my heart for my first child, my dead child, my perfect child? Will I treat the others different? Will I have others? Will I be looking into adoption in 6 months?

I've been on L.upron for 18 days now, with another 2-1/2 weeks to go. The pinballing of emotions going on inside of me is amazing. I feel bi-polar.

I worry about running out of money because of IVF. I worry about this cycle not working. I worry that if it does work, will my baby live?

All of these thoughts collide with each other and make my brain hurt.

I just have to get through these next 2-1/2 weeks. Then the 2WW. Then the 35 weeks of pregnancy after that. **fingers crossed**

Response to "Glow in the Woods"

This is one of my very favorite blogs - "Glow in the Woods." Full of amazing posts that describe life after the loss of a child so accurately, it seems as if the writer is reading my mind.

A recent topic "The Land on Which I Stand" really resonated for me. I feel like I'm a broken person, a ticking time bomb, and if people could really see what's going on inside of me, they would be horrified.

The questions asked are as follows:

Can you describe an instant of recognition or insight that surprised you or caught you off-guard?
I can recall several of these instants. One that is very painful is the moment I learned there was no heartbeat, Kara had died. I was in the examination room for a routine ultrasound and my OB happily chatted about how big I was measuring, answering questions about the scheduled c-section in 12 days time. I recall the fetal doppler being moved around and around my belly, but it didn't register 'why', until the doctor got quiet. Instantly I felt cold and everything went into slow motion. "B, there is no heartbeat. I'm so sorry." At first it didn't register - it was as if someone pushed the 'pause' button. I gaped at her. Then it dawned on me - as she showed me the ultrasound with my baby perfectly still in the fetal position. There was no heartbeat, there was no movement at all. I lost my voice. I was whispering over and over "That's it? That's the end?" I could not find my voice - it was like forcing air through my vocal cords, but no sound was coming out. Then the wailing began. An uncontrollable, primal sound that I have never heard before. I held my belly and howled, over and over again. The Doctor called my husband who was traveling on business - I couldn't even speak. She explained that Kara had died 'in utero' for no apparent reason. The conversation went on without my even hearing what was being said. My mother was called to take me to the hospital to prep me for labor. I was in hysterics for some time as I waited the hour for my mother to drive up to get me.

How many lives do you lead? Two. One is my business life - I put on the business persona and do my job. I have bad days, but I can hide at home on my worst days and no one knows the difference. The other is my real life - I am the bereaved, broken mother of one child who lives in Heaven. I am that woman - the one who experienced stillbirth after a nearly perfect pregnancy. I can't fake it, can't see through the shitty present to the hopeful future. My outlook is bleak.

Do you ever feel okay? Yes. There are days when I feel okay and I have to embrace and enjoy them as much as possible because they are fleeting. There are those days where I feel a gleam of optimism for a short moment, and I think that there might be hope for me.

And are you okay with feeling a little okay, sometimes? I am okay with it. I am.

What about you?

IF and Grief

Every day I think I'll update my blog, but the fear of falling backwards into the abyss keeps me away. As if I could be made 'sadder' by writing about my feelings, my longing for my daughter. I live it every moment of my life, how can simply writing it down make me any sadder? And yet, it terrifies me. Most days I feel like I'm hanging on to life by a thread. There lurks a maelstrom in my head, always present, always threatening to erupt. I look in the mirror and wonder how I can be alive with the knowledge of her death.

I go through my life just marking time until I can do to sleep and escape reality. This life sucks. I have to visit my baby in a cemetary for the rest of my life - how long will that be? How long before the sight of her headstone stops stealing my breath upon sight? How long before I can wake up without the first thought being 'my baby is dead' and 'life fucking sucks.' How long before I can return to Sunday Mass without the vile anger I feel towards God for Kara's death? Never. I will never NOT be horrified by her death. The thought will never NOT take my breath away.

Infertility sucks. Living with infertility while grieving for your child, has to be one of life's best torments. I'm gearing up for another cycle (IVF#8) and I don't have much hope for a successful outcome. Even though we're going the DE route, I'm terrified that this cycle won't work, we won't get enough PGD-normal frosties to try again, and we'll have wasted HUGE amounts of money trying to get pregnant since Kara died, all without success. None of this will bring Kara back, but I'm hoping I can have a sibling or two (or ten) to help give me hope again. Children will give me a purpose and a reason for living again. Transfer is tenatively scheduled for the week before Thanksgiving. Here's hoping I have something to celebrate real soon.

What now?

I'm having a hard time today. I'm fighting off 'the pit' with all that I have in me. It's hard work - all I want to do is to crawl back into bed and cry.

It's hard to say just what triggered it this time. Maybe it was the birth announcement from an acquanitance on Friday, and subsequently having to buy a gift for the baby that started me in this direction. Maybe it was my visit to her grave to place a beautiful Fall mum & pumpkin at the base of her monument. I thought it would feel good to take the pink geraniums away and replace them with beautiful Fall flowers and a pumpkin. It didn't feel good, though. It felt like decorating my baby's gravesite for yet another season without her. It's so morbid that I have to share the seasons, holidays and special occasions in this way, with my baby. It's so sad, and it makes me terribly angry.

Why does yet another mother get to take home her live child? Why me? Aliza writes about this in her recent post FREAK. I too, am angry every time I see a pregnant woman, or hear of another acquaintance who had their baby live and screaming. I'm so angry - why me? why my baby? why did it have to be us, who tried for so long to get pregnant, and wanted our baby so badly! why did it have to be me - I can't even get pregnant with my own baby again! It makes me crazy sometimes. I hate to sound this way - it horrifies me that I wish this tragedy on someone else. But it's just so painful - how do I go through life missing her so terribly much? How can I 'get on' with my life when I'm missing a part of me forever? My only biological child, and she is dead. It takes my breath away. I do, though. I wish it were someone else, and that I had my perfect little Kara in my arms where she belongs. Let it have happened to someone else who had other children. I know it's horrible - please no hate comments on this one. I'm being brutally honest here. I hate myself for thinking/feeling/saying it. But I wish people who suffer from infertility, who tried SO FUCKING HARD for their first child, would be spared from this tragedy. Aliza, Ines, Amy, Nancy, and many, many other babylost mama's who are struggling with the question - WHAT NOW? How do we go on from here, when we are all struggling with some form of infertility. Some of us have moved to adoption, some of us are still trying IVF, some of us are stuck in purgatory - unsure of how to live our lives now that our 'back-up' plan has failed. Some of us have no options left. What of us? How do we live like this, now that we've seen our beautiful child, have felt him or her in our arms, lifeless and cold? We have no other children to live for. We have no other genetic children to hope for. Why did this have to happen to us???

There are no answers and no solace today. I miss her so terribly much.

New Normal?

It's been 2 weeks since my last post. It's not that I have nothing to say, but rather, I'm afraid to come here and post because I've been feeling okay as of late. I fear that opening up my heart on my blog will release any sadness that's been lurking here and hiding behind a possibly false facade of semi-normalness. I don't even know if I should call it that.

Describing my state of being over the past 10 days, I can only say I've felt 'okay'. Not great, I don't think I'll ever feel great again. But, okay. I am in a weird state of okay-ness with my sadness, my aching heart, my missing her. Perhaps I am testing the waters of this new 'normal' we babylost parents always mention. I am almost afraid to say it, dare I say that I'm settling in to this sadness and becoming used to it? So used to it that I can live my life with this heartache and constant suffering as if it's normal? Challenging myself to think of a happier me, I remember the sheer elation when I got a BFP with Kara - but I don't think I'm capable of ever having that level of happiness ever again. I am so used to this feeling of sadness and heartache, that it feels normal. Somehow blunted - ME, but deadened. My life goes on - working, visiting family & friends, cleaning the house, grocery shopping - all with a heaviness of heart that only takes a moment, a song, a word, to let loose those tears that always hover behind my eyes. This is my new normal. There is no emotion for me except sadness, so I have been experiencing a 'deadening' of myself. I'm okay with it. It's the new me, after losing my child. Every moment of every day, I miss her, I love her. How can I live with the knowledge that my child is dead, and NOT be a different person? I am different. I wonder how many people that know me, can tell. While visiting family this weekend, my mom & brother were telling funny pet stories and laughing openly, joyfully, freely. I could only smile politely. I can't even make decent small talk anymore. I am incapable of laughing with abandon, of feeling pure joy. I think I won't feel that way again until I have a live child in my arms, whose mine to keep, forever. And maybe not even then.

A Place of Light

The week started out in a place of darkness, but has ended up in a place of light.

On Monday, I was headed for the abyss. I was on the edge and trying desperately to hang on for dear life. I dug in my fingers and clutched onto the edge as hard as I could to keep myself from going over. I found myself consciously trying to change my thought pattern from dark and sad thoughts to more positive thoughts. It's not easy, I'll be honest - it's very difficult. When I'm focused on the sadness of missing my daughter, it's a brutal task to change the thoughts to other, more uplifting things. Sometimes I can't think of anything positive except to be thankful for the 9 months that I had being pregnant with her. And that has to be enough to keep me going. To keep me from falling into the abyss. And sometimes, I just get out and walk or go to the gym. I try to do anything to distract me from the darkness. And it worked, this week. I still had some dark moments and I did my share of crying, for sure. But I'm okay and I'm still feeling good.

I've been really focused on making positive changes in my life. I changed my bedding in my master bedroom and I LOVE IT. It's so nice to LOVE your bed again. A fluffy, new duvet cover in vibrant, wonderful colors is a sure way to brighten my life. A new paint color in my home office is a cheerful blue/green - another way to help brighten my life and change my environment. And of course, Wei.ght Wat.chers - I've lost 3.4lbs in 3 weeks and I'm feeling good. 11.6lbs more to go until the Donor cycle. At least these things keep me distracted and change my environment enough to break me out of this depressive funk I've been in for 15 months. At the end of the day I still miss her terribly, but breaking the cycle of sadness for me is key to my healing. I simply have to figure out ways to grieve in a more healthy manner, while changing my situation and my environment to reinforce positive behavior and thinking. I think that changing my environment and taking control of those things that I CAN control, is huge for me. I know I'll still have the sadness, ever lurking beneath the distracted facade, but at least I have made the effort to take charge of those things under my control.

The sadness is not under my control, not really. But I'm working to make my falls into the abyss shorter and less painful.

My week ended in light this week. Last night I had a dream that my grandmother came to me and gave me a big hug, and told me that 'everyone is okay.' I asked if Kara was okay - and she assured me with a smile, that Kara was fine and was with her. Then I aksed if Junior was with Kara, and she smiled and again said yes. Everyone is fine and they're waiting for me.

I could not get back to sleep after that dream. I felt a peace that I have not felt in my entire life. I have never been close to this grandmother and she was never the kindly, old, sensitive maternal figure that presented herself in my dream. But I want to believe that she came to me the truth. I have prayed for Junior to be with Kara, and for them both to be with my grandparents in Heaven, since Kara died over 15 months ago. I visited my grandmother's grave a few weeks ago for the first time ever, and asked her to take care of Kara for me until I get there. This dream has made my day just a bit easier to face, knowing that my daughter is safe and happy with my favorite dog and my grandparents, waiting for me. That's all I can ask for.

Monday Ramblings

It's hard to stay positive when you have a dead baby.
It's hard to live each day when you miss your child with every breath and physically hurt from the longing to hold/see/smell/touch her.

I wonder how we do it, us babylost parents. How do we continue to live our lives? The pain of longing and missing is quite often, too much for me. I find myself crying in the car while running errands. Crying in the store when the reality of her loss hits me fresh and new again. Crying when we leave the restaurant where a toddler sat at the next table, looking adoringly at his mother while she fed him.

Each night when I lay down to sleep, I pray that Kara is warm & safe, surrounded by my loved ones, in Heaven with Him and with my dog Junior. I thank Him for giving me the honor of being Kara's mommy. For giving me the experience of her pregnancy, and thanking Him for every kick, somersault, and hiccup I felt. Thanking Him for giving me 9 months to hold her body with mine. And angry with Him for taking her away from DH and I.

My life has changed in so many ways since her death. I am trying to put my life back together again, trying to be less sad, more active, more positive. Trying to enjoy some of life again and trying to live each day with a little less pain and sadness. I must stay focused on my positive changes, because that's all I can control. The pain and sadness is more difficult, because I can't control it. I can only let it wash over me and try to recover when it has run its course.

I look forward to my DE cycle, hoping it gives me the opportunity to become a parent to a live child. Please God, give me a live child. Please, please, please, let me get what I want, this time. Please give me a live child.

And please give me the patience to hang in there until November's DE cycle.

Positive Changes

In my last post, I complained about my shitty life. I hate my job, hate my body, want to move and want a family (NOW, please!). I want to stop being sad, I want to enjoy my life again. How can I get back the interest I used to have in life? Everything centers around my infertility and the loss of my daughter. Everything ultimately leads me back to sadness.

I've done a lot of thinking the past week and have decided to tackle a few of these challenges.

1. I joined Wei.gh.t Wa.tchers. Lost 2.6lbs the first week! 12.4lbs left to go. Hooray for me! I've always been active and fit, but my weight has been out of control since starting IVF 3 years ago and especially after losing Kara. Carrying around an extra 10-15lbs is not acceptable for me. Time to get serious and control what goes in my pie hole.

2. I've decided to look for a new job. It's not the optimal time to search for said 'new job' but I figure that good people are always in demand. I'm the best salesperson I've ever met; I just need to get the interview. I've brushed up my resume, joined an *expensive* online job board and I've dedicated 1-2 hours daily to searching and applying for jobs.

Taking control of my life is the only way I know how to live. For too long now, I've allowed my infertility to control me; to control my decisions and my career path. No longer. I will take back the power and make positive changes in my life.

I can't bring back Kara, I have to learn to live with the pain and loss. I have to continue therapy and try to find a way to live with this pain. Cemetary visits with my baby are, and will be, part of my life until I die. I suspect that I will be working on this one for the rest of my days.

I can't change make my eggs younger or healthier. I can't turn back the hands of time. If I could, we'd have Kara with us today. Instead, I can make healthy, informed decisions on how to start a family. today. We've chosen a donor and our DE cycle starts in October.

I can't make my job more interesting or inspiring. I can take it day by day and try to make the best of it while searching diligently for a new challenge. I can commit to 2-3 hours each day to search & apply for new opportunities. I bought a new suit on Thursday for a Friday interview and felt like a new person. :)

I can't wish these 15lbs away. I can't walk them off either, unfortunately. I CAN stop eating like the skinny person I used to be, and start eating to lose weight. 2.6lbs down - woo hoo!

I can't sell my house and run away somewhere and hide from the grief and sadness that has enveloped my home since Kara died. But I can spend some $$ and make my place look a little different. P.otteryB.a.rn.com, here I come.

I'm liking the changes already.

Can I get a Do-Over?

I have been in a slump since my last IVF cycle failed. I know I'm in a slump, and I feel powerless to change it. Positive thoughts? bah! That doesn't really work for me. I feel like I need a big change in my life - new job? new house? new baby? I am stuck in a rut of sadness and exposing and identifying the various causes of my sadness each day is like peeling back an onion. There are just so many layers upon rotten layers, and it all winds up to missing my baby.

I am caught in a rip tide of sadness. I feel as if I need someone to straighten out my life and say 'That's it - that's what you should change and you'll start feeling better.'

• I work from home as a manufacturer's sales rep. I love sales, but working from home is tough when I wake up sad and can't get motivated to make those phone calls. On the other hand, if I get pregnant and have a live child, this job would be perfect. I am home 2 days per week and on the road locally the other 3. (lately, I'm home a lot more often.) Perfect for a small child at home. I sought out this job because I wanted to work from home when I was pregnant and started my family. It also works for infertility/IVF treatments because my schedule is so flexible and nobody is in my business. Starting and having a family is and was my #1 priority. 3 years later, I'm still without a live child and I'm working in a job where my MBA is being wasted, I'm not motivated and have too much time to be sad, I'm not interested in the industry or the products I sell, and I have generally 'dumbed' myself down professionally. Not sure what to do here, since I'm still not pregnant and now hate my job and the people I work with. I've started to look, but can't commit to commuting 1 hour to NYC for a 'real' job when I might be pregnant in November.
• My home is a brand new townhouse that backs up to the beach. My deck is 80 feet from the Atlantic ocean. How can I beat that? We have a really nice place that we love very much. Except, its full of sadness. This house reminds me of being pregnant with Kara, and of grieving so hard for her when we lost her. Everywhere around me are reminders of happier days. We talk about moving up to Westchester for a while and renting out our place, but Kara is buried here in town and moving an hour north of here....I just can't bring myself to leave her. How could I live an hour away and not be able to visit her whenever I wanted to? I don't know if I could do it. But a change of scenery sounds appealing sometimes. I don't think I can do it.
• I have failed IVF so many times I can barely count anymore. Kara was our 3rd IVF attempt and she was a miracle. Since losing Kara, we've failed 4 additional IVF cycles in 1 year and I'm exhausted emotionally and physically. I hate my body and can't get back into fighting shape. I've been soft and 10-15lbs overweight for 3 years since starting Infertility treatments. I never used to go above 135lbs - e.v.e.r. NOW I'm 154. ugh. I work out 4-5 times per week and I eat healthy - I just can't lose without starving myself. So I cry about that too. My self-image just sucks and I've devalued myself as a woman and as a person by letting IVF kick my ass. At least I've started W.eigh.t W.atch.ers this week. That's one thing I feel like I can control - counting those damned points. I feel like I'm on the right path here. Come November, I'm hoping to be pregnant anyway (see, it always comes down to that - I might be pregnant next cycle....this is how I live my stupid life.)
• I am grieving the loss of my first and only child, Kara. 37 1/2 weeks and her heart stops?! WTF? I am angry at God, angry at my body, and overwhelmed that I will never get to do the things I had planned with this special little person. She was already such a huge part of our lives when I was pregnant with her, how can one watch her dreams disappear in one sentence 'I'm sorry, there is no heartbeat. ' HOW??? All of my dreams went up in smoke that day and all the days since. Everything I had planned for this little princess was gone. And I have no living children at home to distract me, or to make me want to live again. All I live for is the next IVF cycle, hoping that I get 1 good embryo. I miss her with every breath, and will for the rest of my life.
• I am grieving the possible loss of motherhood. I can't continue on this IVF-path much longer. Emotionally, I am spent. Physically, I am shot. If someone could tell me that 10 IVF cycles later, I'll definitely have a baby - then I'd do it. But to keep going on this emotional rollercoaster is insanity. Every three months, Estrogen, Progesterone, Gona.l-F, Men.opur, Cet.rotide, Lu.pron. Ultrasounds;, ooops, there are only 5 follicles. Retrieval; only 3 mature eggs. ICSI; 3 fertilized. 3-day update, 5-day update, PGD testing, 24-hr wait until we hear the news "I'm sorry, all embryos tested abnormal." Each milestone builds up your hope just a tiny bit, until you're actually thinking positive at the 3-day update, thinking 'yeah, this just might be it.' You begin to read deeper into the doctor's voicemails..."maybe because he called me in the evening last time, it's good news this time. He hasn't called yet and its the next morning - it MUST be good news!" nope. it's all bad news.

How to go on like this? Will another pregnancy and a live child actually help pull me out of this funk? Do I need a life change? How about a new life? (that sounds good - can I get a 'do-over'?)

I Love You Right Up To The Moon

I received this book from a co-worker while I was still pregnant with Kara. I never read it to her in the womb. Never got to read it to her while she nursed or when I laid her down to sleep. I never read it, in fact, until yesterday.

I had a complete meltdown yesterday. One of the worst since losing Kara. After shooting up elephant-size doses of G.o.n.a.l-F, M.enopur, Estrogen and Progesterone, then finding out for the 4th time since losing my baby that my embryos are abnormal, and giving up on ever having a living genetic child of my own, I guess a meltown is to be expected. But I still wasn't prepared for it.

I was completely out of control. One of those sobbing, snot-running-down-my-face, crying-till-I'm-gagging, kind of meltdowns. ALL DAY.

I had to face the fact that ALL I WANT IS TO HAVE KARA BACK. Even another genetic child would not be her, and I would still be missing her until I die. I still want a family. I still feel like I can't live without having live children to raise. But I know that I'm still longing for Kara. I always will.

So I went through her memory box yesterday in the middle of my meltdown. I had to look through her photos, see her little footprint cast in plaster, look at her lock of hair, read the sympathy cards and touch her baby blanket. And I found the 'Guess How Much I Love You' book by Sam McBratney.

'Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare's very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Bug Nutbrown Hare was listening. "Guess how much I love you," he said. "Oh, I don't think I could guess that," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you as high as I can hop!" laughed Little Nutbrown Hare, bouncing up and down.
"But I love you as high as I can hop," smiled Big Nutbrown Hare - and he hopped so high that his ears touched the branches above.

"I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river," cried Little Nutbrown Hare.
"I love you across the river and over the hills," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you right up to the moon," he said, and closed his eyes.
"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "That is very, very far." Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night.

Good Night, Kara. I love you right up to the moon.

My Eggs Are Officially Expired

Damn. Dr. Sweet called early this morning with the news: all 3 embryos tested abnormal. Fuck. I cried a bit, mourning the loss of my fertility and the loss of any future hope of having a genetic sibling to Kara. When I face my deepest thoughts, I just want Kara back. No baby will bring Kara back. She is forever gone.

Post Retrieval Upate - IVF#7

Just a quick update on my 7th (yes, 7th!) IVF cycle. First off - I love my RE. He is a sweetheart, and utterly adorable. Always excellent bedside manner, always hopeful for me, always remembering that I lost my baby last year. Dr. Sweet retrieved 5 eggs on Monday, 4 were mature, 3 fertilized. Tomorrow, they go for their first big test - PGD. By Friday evening (or more likely Saturday morning) I'll know if any of the embryos are genetically healthy. I don't hold out much hope.

When I began this IVF journey almost 3 years ago, upon our first retrieval it was evident that my eggs were old. None fertilized and the idiot RE at that time didn't perform ICSI. ::Thanks for wasting my money:: Changed clinics, found SHER Institutes for Reproductive Medicine and have been there for the last 6 cycles.

May '07 - 2nd IVF - 5 eggs, all fertilized, PGD: 0 normal.
Sept '07 - 3rd IVF - 5 eggs, 3 fertilized, PGD: 1 normal. This was my baby Kara, who died in the womb at 37weeks 3 days.
Oct '08 - 4th IVF - 5 eggs, 3 fertilized, PGD: 0 normal.
Jan '09 - 5th IVF - 6 eggs, 4 fertilized, PGD: 1 normal. BFN
Apr '09 - 6th IVF - 7 eggs, 5 fertilized, PGD: 0 normal.
July '09 - 7th IVF - 5 eggs, 3 fertilized, PGD: ?

Injectible hormones have bloated me up like a balloon. I have a kangaroo pouch that I can't get rid of because every 2 1/2 months I'm on the drugs again. I am SO done with this. It's exhausting mentally & physically, and my self esteem suffers greatly while I'm cycling. (I have to think it's the Estrogen getting injected into my ass every other day.) Don't get me wrong - if I thought I was going to have a baby this way, I'd continue trying and injecting and riding the hormonal rollercoaster and being overweight. It's all for a great cause. But let's look at the history, people. These eggs are freaking past their due date. It's time for me to move on.

So I've picked out a donor - and I actually have hope that the end of the IVF-road is near for me. Of course, then I still have to actually take a live baby home at the end - I still can't believe I might get to do that. It seems impossibly far away and unrealistic for me. However, I am surviving this cycle better than I have survived 6 previous cycles (except on #3 when I conceived Kara) and its because I've decided to do DE. The decision was not made lightly. Our insurance only covered 2 cycles and we've paid out of pocket for the last 5. Again, if someone told me I had to spend $xx,xxx to conceive my own child - I would spend whatever sum they named. But this is a crap shoot and I'm not getting any younger. I gave it my best shot and I'm moving on. I'm in awe that I found a young, proven donor who looks like me, and who is willing to go through the IVF process to give another woman the gift of life. Its amazing to me - a miracle. Their compensation is not enough to give up their eggs, really. Its an act of love, an unselfish act that is amazing to me. I am in awe of these women.

So we wait for Saturday for the PGD news. But in the meantime, I'll keep shooting up Progesterone while keeping my expectations low. I know to not expect anything anymore. Any positive news is a big fat bonus.

A Christening...

My husband told me last weekend that his cousin C asked him to be Godfather to one of his new twins. C lives in California and we live in NJ, so we don't see them often. Apparently, C & his wife S have had 3 more kids since last time we saw each other a couple of years ago. The happy little Fertile couple. The last time we saw each other was at C's little sister's wedding when I was 10 weeks pregnant with Kara. Almost 2 years ago. His wife S and I were talking about pregnancy and she shared that she suffered several miscarriages after her first child. When I expressed my sympathy she replied "I'm just lucky I get pregnant so easily." Just like that. No biggie. Miscarriages are not devastating to some, I guess.

They didn't come to Kara's funeral. I received a card, but I think that was it. I don't remember an email or a voicemail from them either at the time of Kara's death or since then to check on how we're doing. I should not be surprised, I guess, considering how easily she handled her own miscarriages. Maybe I'm being too harsh?

I'm pissed off. We didn't receive an invitation to the Christening, just a voicemail asking Peter to be the Godfather. My husband lost his infant daughter 1 year ago and you never called or wrote to check in on him. And now you're asking him to hold your baby and be his Godfather? And to drive 2 hours to CT to be there?

I have to go to the Christening tomorrow and see loads of infants/babies. What fun this will be. I will meet my neice for the first time - my neice who was born 4 weeks after Kara died. This I am dreading, but it's time. My sister-in-law "B" is a wonderful person and I miss her very much. We were so excited to be pregnant together, and equally excited that our daughters would be so close in age. Now there's just her. And I have to see her. I have to see how big my daughter would be by now, the milestones she would have reached. Kara was my firstborn, so I know none of these things. I'm sure it's going to sting like hell. But I'm ready for it...I think. I know I have to do it sooner or later, and it's been a year. I feel like it's time.

But I'm pissed that I have to go to this Christening. I have to put myself out for these people who I feel have ignored our pain for the last year. Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe they reached out through my DH and I didn't know. But I am bitter and angry that we have to go to this thing tomorrow, and be surrounded by babies. I'm even more angry that they asked DH to be the Godfather. How fucking insensitive can you be?

Am I overreacting?
I bought them christening girfts today and muttered obscenities the entire time.

Ramblings...

Yesterday, I was at the lowest place in my grief again. I was at that point where I just couldn't see the point in living any more. I was of the mind that if I have to live the rest of my life without Kara, I don't want to live.

It started in the grocery store on Thursday when I heard the song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." That song sent me over the edge of the abyss where I stayed until last night. The song pointed out to me the fact that I would never see my daughter again until I die. I know this, of course, but sometimes when its bluntly put in front of me, I lose it. How can I survive another X years until I'm with her again? How can I long for someone so intensely, and know that I'll never be able to satisfy this feeling? I'll never hold her. I'll never smell her baby smell. I'll never see her eyes or hear her voice. I'll never feel the solid muscle and bone as I hug her to my body. I'll never know if she can hear my voice tell her how much I love her every day, every night. How can the human psyche wrap itself around this concept? The longing simply seems too much sometimes. I don't know how to live with it.

Today, I woke up with a more positive feeling. I don't know how to explain it. I woke up at 2am thinking about our next (and 7th) IVF cycle and thought, maybe this will be it. And even if I DO conceive again (which isn't likely with my old eggs), I'll never have Kara back. I'll long for her until the day I die. Of that I'm sure. But, having another child would give me someone to pour my love into. Maybe another child will help ease the unbearable longing. Maybe another child will give me something to live for. I've mentioned it before, and without going into too much detail, we are exploring other options for having a family. Simply put - we're not taking 'no' for an answer. We will have a family, no matter what it takes. That said, I'm becoming optimistic that we will have children in this house sometime next year. If this optimism can buoy me through the hard times, then I must focus on the optimism and not the sadness and emptiness I now have. In the words of my therapist "This is a temporary place. You will be in a better place 1 year from now, 2 years from now, and so on." I believe her. Unfortunately, I want it all NOW. I'm not a patient person and yet infertility and babyloss makes one realize that we're not really in control, at all.

My awesome therapist also wants me to focus on the positive things that Kara has given me. There are many (the topic of my next post) and I must focus on those instead of focusing on everything that I've lost. That's my assignment this week. We'll see how I do.

Knocked down again

It's been a few weeks since my last post. I have this problem...I only feel the urge to write when I'm feeling down. When the grief grabs me, I need a release. I can't seem to put the good days into writing yet.

The past week has been very difficult for me. It starts as a restlessness, almost a mania, where I feel an urgent need to be physical. I can head it off usually with a 4-mile walk or going to the gym to pump iron. But sometimes I'm just too tired, so there's not enough time for my hour (or 2) workout. So I clean the house, do laundry, go shopping - anything to try and burn off the need. Sometimes it helps. But sometimes it doesn't, and the inevitable sadness overtakes me.

Despite being quite active this week, there were a few days where I could not outrun the sadness. No amount of housekeeping, shopping or laundry would help. Work did not help. The sadness pervades my every thought and I go from 'I miss my daughter' to 'I'll never get pregnant again.' I am grieving the loss of my beautiful daughter and going through my 4th IVF cycle since her death. (The 7th IVF cycle since we started TTC almost 3 years ago.) When will I be the lucky one to get a BFP? Will I ever? The grief grabs me from behind and drags me to the ground. No matter how hard I try to outrun it, it forces me facedown into the dirt and rubs my nose in it. I cry, I sob, I hate life. I am grieving my daughter's death, and the death of my fertility.

I am just about through with fertility treatments and looking into other options. I can't take the emotional roller coaster of the drugs, the 2WW or the genetic testing of the embryos. My life is broken down into 3 month cycles. 1 month to actively 'cycle' and 2 months of resting the old ovaries. It sucks. And all the while, I grow older.

I feel like a broken woman - old, tired, worn out. I'm not the person I used to be and I hate it. I hate this life - I hate the fact that my daughter is buried in the ground a few miles away instead of being here alive with us. I HATE IT! I want to reach into the ground and pull her into my arms when I'm there. I'm so broken from losing my daughter - how can I ever love another child the way I love her? And how can I live my life if I have to live childless? What if I can't get pregnant with my own eggs? Can I accept the future, whatever it brings?

I'm tired of being powerless. Tired of being sad. So tired of infertility drugs and abnormal embryos. Really tired of seeing new babies in the neighborhood. I hate myself and the fact that my body couldn't bring my baby alive into this world. I hate myself also for the fact that I can't get pregnant (with or without IVF, apparently.) I wasted my youth and my eggs. I thought pregnancy + 40 yrs old = IVF. I also thought that 9 months pregnant = live baby. What an impossible thing to accept, our powerlessness over life and death, and our own fertility.

Time Heals All Wounds...

No, it fu*k!ng doesn't. You just learn to live with the pain. It's still a huge gaping wound that sometimes opens and spills vile puss and hurts like hell. It's an ugly, unsightly thing that won't ever leave you and won't ever stop hurting. There are days when I don't notice the pain so much, and there are days when I would cut the wound out of my skin with a steaknife to stop the pain. Sometimes I think I can live with it, then I bump it and it hurts like a fiery hot poker stuck in my eye. That bastard keeps hurting for days, until it slowly fades away to a manageable ache that can be tolerated.

I hate my infertility and hate that my daughter is dead. By every other account, I have a great life. A wonderful, loving, doting husband who I'm madly attracted to. A beautiful house on the water with 'vacation-like' views. A wonderful network of friends and family who support me in good times and in bad - who were there for me in every sense of the word when Kara died. I have a great job where I work from home and am paid well to do so. The bonus is that I'm able to attend to the time demands of IVF, which is a huge benefit to me since it's the only way I'll ever get pregnant again. I have a great boss who gives me a ton of space and whose company and guidance I both like and appreciate. SO what's the problem you ask?

My life should be so different right now. I should have my beautiful 1-year old daughter here on Earth, with her father and I. I hate how she was taken from us at 37.5 weeks. I hate that I have a grave to tend to instead of a baby to care for. I hate that I cry almost every day, and can never imagine my life being any different. I hate that I am on my 7th IVF this month, and despite a full-term pregnancy, still have no baby to show for it.

I hate my life these days. I want to sell the house, quit my job and find a new place to start over. (As if that will allow me to get pregnant and possibly have a live baby to show for it.) I hate that I have no control over the only thing in my life that matters to me right now - my inability to have a child. I had a child, I did. But she died before I could give birth to her. How am I supposed to live with this? How does one go on, incorporating this raw grief into their existence so that it doesn't rip them apart every minute of every day?

I had hoped that at 1 year I would have figured it out. Figured out how to live with this festering, ugly wound without it ruining my life. But it has ruined my life, and I am powerless to stop it. I refuse to ignore the pain, the rawness, the loss. It is, she was, and I am still (in love with her, missing her, hurting for her, longing for her.) My life is really nothing without her and I would be kidding myself, deluding myself, if I pretended otherwise.

June 25 ~ Remembering Fionn Today

Today and always, we remember and miss you Fionn.
John & Ines, you are in our thoughts and prayers.
We love you.
Babette, Peter and Kara.

Ines & Me

I flew to Ireland this week to visit my online friend from MISS, Ines.

Thank you for a wonderful time in Ireland. Thank you for being there, for being my friend. Without words, we were able to share our deepest pain, our difficulties, our hopes for the future. I haven't smiled like this in over a year - it felt really good, and right.

Our children would be proud of the friendship we've forged through all of this pain and despair.

Kara and Fionn are smiling down on us today and wishing us happiness.

1 Year Today

I can't believe it's been 1 year since she died. This entire year has flown by in a blur of pain and sadness, one that I never thought I'd live through. The early days were full of anxiety attacks and a constant gut-wrenching sadness; ever-present tears and a swollen face; a need to die, to be with my baby again. A constant feeling of helplessness, hopelessness and a bone deep misery. Through the months the anxiety attacks subsided and the gut wrenching sadness turned to a pervasive grief that has filtered throughout every pore. The tears still flow, and I still have times where I wish I were dead. The sadness is always with me, and I expect it to be so until I die.

But I'm learning to live with the grief that has consumed my life. My whole existence has been changed - molded by the loss of my daughter. I have been broken to my very soul. I have cried tears from the depths of sorrow which I never knew existed. I have known love, the bounds of which I didn't understand before her. I have known longing, the intense desire to cross the boundary between life and death to be with her. I have experienced true suffering, and will forever be sensitive to the suffering of others.

My beautiful daughter has brought my life meaning and depth that I never dreamed of. Her death has brought me more suffering and sadness than I ever thought possible. And yet, if I was given the chance to escape my suffering by never having had her, I would choose to have her over and over again. Kara was and continues to be a wonderful blessing and I am honored to have carried her for her entire life, even if it was only for a short time.

I miss you my love - I miss you with every breath I take, every second of every minute of every day.

Grief

Sometimes I feel like I'm doing okay. I have a few good days and I have to remind myself of the horror that I've lived through, the absolute terror of learning that my baby died inside of me, and the realization that I'm still alive. That I've lived through it. It's like picking a scab to watch it bleed again - wanting to remind myself of the reality and the pain of her absence. I can't just enjoy the good days without picking that scab.

Then I have bad days. Days when I wake up not feeling so good, but can't put my finger on exactly what's wrong. I can feel a ball of anxiety in my belly and a lingering feeling of dread permeating my every thought. Every so often I hear myself sigh deeply, and it sounds like someone else - someone who is very sad and troubled. Grief is stalking me and I am trying to evade him. But Grief wins every time.

Today was one of those days, and I felt it coming on since Sunday afternoon. It began with impatience and anxiety, typical for me when I'm traveling and ready to come home. We went to New England to visit family onver the long holiday weekend and after 4 nights of sleeping in strange beds and being on other peoples' timetables, I was ready to come home. Yesterday I felt it even more. The dread began early in the morning - and progressed throughout the day. I thought it was dread over going back to work after a nice 5-day break. This morning it felt like anxiety - a stone in the pit of my stomach for no apparent reason. By 3pm today, I was home and in bed with my tears. It wasn't until late this morning that I realized I had been running away from my Grief for the past 3 days. It felt good to finally succumb to it and to cry freely. To acknowledge my sadness and loss, my anger and pain. And my anger.

I'm still in a funk and not feeling well, but I think I recognize now the need to let Grief in when it rears its ugly head. Instead of running from it, I should let it in and just be sad for a few days. It eventually catches up with me anyway - why do I do this? I always think I can hold it off long enough to 'weather' the storm which will surely pass if I keep avoiding it. But it doesn't work that way. It's not something I can 'weather' without having to experience it. And that's my lesson for today. Embrace the storm and stop trying to avoid it.

Hoping tomorrow is a better, brighter day.

Another failed cycle and Mother's Day

I was doing so well, really. I surprised myself the last 2 weeks, feeling as good as I did. Even up until 5 minutes ago I was doing pretty well. But I knew it couldn't last.

I am on my 6th IVF cycle this month and I had 6 eggs retrieved last Sunday. I was very excited - that was a great response for my body. 5 eggs fertilized and 4 embryos made it to day 3. We waited all week for the results of PGD testing to determine the genetic health of the embryos. This morning I heard the heartbreaking news: all 4 embryos were abnormal.

We were crushed, disappointed, but very few tears fell. We will do this 2 more times, then we're done. At least there's an end in sight. DH left for school and I tried to begin my day.

I was holding up pretty well, calling my mom and soulmate friend to share the disappointing news. no tears - I'm okay. Sad, but looking towards the future. Looking on the (not-so) bright side - maybe I can get these last 10lbs off before I start cycling again. (truth is, I could care less - I'd rather be pregnant.)


So I'm doing okay - starting to get some actual work done in my office when the doorbell rings. And this arrives:

My darling, sweetheart of a husband sent me flowers for Mother's Day. On top of what happened this morning, I broke down into sobs the likes of which I haven't seen in over a month. I picked myself up off the floor, unwrapped the beautiful arrangement, cleaned the dining room table and displayed my flowers. I am still crying as I write this. What a wonderful man! I feel like I've let him down - he's sending me Mother's Day flowers and I failed to bring his baby into this world safely. I wish I didn't have to go back to the pit, but here I am again.

I miss my daughter so, so very much today. I should have an 11-month old, and here I am still on the IVF rollercoaster, grieving my only child on my first Mother's Day without her. It's not even Mother's Day yet and I'm a wreck. This does not bode well.

Turning a Corner, Perhaps?

This week is the first good week I've had in a year. Yes, I cried. Yes, I thought about her every second of every day. Yes, I went to the cemetary to visit with her. Yes, I missed her every minute and missed simple pleasures like pushing her in her stroller during this fabulous weather. Yes, yes, yes. I still miss my baby, terribly.

But I felt happy this weekend, for the first time in almost a year. It feels amazing. I don't know if it's the medication, the warm weather, my upcoming vacation, my current IVF cycle...or a combination of all of those things.

Okay - the new anti-depressants are dfinitely helping. Thank God. I couldn't live in that grey world of pure sadness 24/7 any longer. I couldn't get out of my own way - couldn't clean the house, do laundry, could hardly work.

And sure, the warm weather is a boost to my mental state. We've had snow, rain and cold weather for so long, I forgot what the sun looked and felt like. I've just enjoyed 3 days in a row of 80-degree weather - yes, it feels wonderful to be alive.

And maybe my upcoming vacation to Ireland is giving me something to look forward to for once during this entire year from HELL. Since losing Kara, we haven't gone anywhere except local jaunts to visit family in Connecticut. DH is traveling to China with his MBA class and I decided my mom & I are going to Ireland during the same time. I am excited and feel light of heart for the first time in almost 1 year. I'm most excited to meet my babylost blog friend, Ines from Ireland - that will be the highlight of my trip.

And I'm sure my current IVF cycle has something to do with it. This is my 3rd cycle since Kara died, and I am getting tired of being 20lbs overweight and over-emotional while cycling. I'm tired of the failures and of the waiting. Maybe this will be our lucky cycle? Maybe...

Overall, I feel like I've turned a corner. My therapist told me that one day I wouldn't feel so horrid every second of every day. That one day I'd actually be interested in work and in life again. But I didn't think it would happen at this point in my grief. I think the combination of things going on in my life right now have given me that all-elusive feeling of 'HOPE' once again. I have hope for a brighter future, for a child in my future, for a life. For enjoying the beautiful life I've been blessed with, instead of wishing I was dead every moment I'm alive. It's an amazing contrast in feelings considering I was so far in the pit 4 weeks ago that I was afriad I'd never emerge in one piece.

I'm sure I'm not "done" with this grief - not at all. I still can't look at her pitcures without crying and feeling like I've been sucker-punched when someone unknowingly asks "How's the baby?" as someone did last week. Poor man, he hasn't seen me since I was 8 months pregnant and no one told him the terrible news. I still cry when customers talk about her. It's so thoughtful that people remember and want to give me condolences. I still wish with every fiber of my being that I could give my own life for hers. I would jump in front of a train if it would bring her back. But maybe I'm starting to heal. Maybe I'm learning to live with the pain and to enjoy the good moments when they present themselves.

And maybe I'm just having a good week and should leave it at that.

Smashed Beyond Repair

My life is smashed beyond all repair. Like a crystal vase that has broken into a million pieces. Like a car that is totaled - beyond fixing. Like a favorite toy that can't be put back together again. You try and try and try again, but fixing it is impossible. Each day, new band-aids are put on the wound, but eventually they fall off and you're left feeling raw and wounded again, an open festering sore that just won't heal. I feel like it's not even worth fixing anymore - it's beyond repair.

Glow in the Woods 7x7: The Body Shop

http://glowinthewoods.squarespace.com/6-by-6/2009/4/1/7-by-7-april-2009.html

1 Give us a few words you would have used to describe your body, your health or your sense of physical vitality before the experience of babyloss—and a few that you’d use to describe it now.

Before babyloss: I was strong, healthy, athletic and confident. I could accomplish anything I put my mind to.

After babyloss: I am insecure, weak but getting stronger, not so athletic anymore. I don't have the lust for life that I once did, and I can't think of anything to put my mind to except getting pregnant again.

2 What do you do to take care of yourself? Has this changed?

I work out 4-5 times per week and eat healthy. I don't work out as hard as I did before pregnancy, but I eat better than I did while I was pregnant. I don't care about myself as much as I used to. While pregnant I took long luxurious baths and cared for my skin with oils and creams. Now I hate to shower because of the way my body looks and putting lotion on my body only prolongs my nakedness which I avoid at all costs.

3 Give us one or two words to describe sex or physical intimacy before, and then after the loss of your baby

Sex/Physical Intimacy Before - was wonderful. We had fun and while maybe not enjoyed 'as often' as we should have, it was loving and fun and enjoyable.

Sex/Physcial Intimacy After - is different. Intense, purposeful, emotionally-charged. Can still be wonderful, but intimacy is now a desperate attempt to cling to life.

4 Has loss and/or grief left a physical mark on you (a scar, a chronic condition, insomnia, a tattoo)?

Besides the c-section scar, I am left with chronic tears, swollen eyes, a perpetually sad mouth, insomnia & depression. I have lost any joy I had in life. I am really just passing my days until I die.

5 Do you medicate or control your emotions with food, wine, altered states, prescriptions? Without judgement, what have you gravitated towards in an effort to heal, and how do you feel about it?

Prescriptions, counseling and exercise. I feel somewhat ashamed that I need prescription anti-depressants to help me control my emotions, but I can't cope in my day-to-day life without them. Everything from work to everyday household tasks became impossible. When I wanted to die, I had to go on prescriptions. Counseling is working for me - it took some time to find the right one, but I finally have someone I feel is helping. I also work out quite a bit to help keep my endorphins flowing. I need to physcially keep moving to stave off depression.

6 Was physical healing important for you in the first year after your loss? What did/does physical healing entail and how did/do you work towards it? If physicality hasn't been a priority for you, what do you do that makes you feel stronger or more able to cope?

Very important. Within 1 week of a c-section I was walking 1 mile per day. I gradually built up my strength to 4 miles daily and have been consistent for 10 months now. I am not lifting the way I used to yet, but being physically active and getting physcially fit has helped me feel stronger and more able to cope. It doesn't hurt when you can fit back into your old clothes and at least 'feel' normal on the outside.

7 If you could change anything about your body and/or health, what would it be? What would it feel like to be either at peace with your body, or at peace with this babylost state?

If I could change anything, it would be my infertility. I have struggled to get pregnant for many years, Kara being my first child. Everything else is under my control - my weight, my body image, etc. to some degree. I can run harder, eat less, look better. I can't control my own body's inability to produce healthy eggs. This is the one thing I would change. It still wouldn't make me at peace with this babylost state, because my daughter would still be dead. Nothing can make me at peace with that.

Sisterhood Award

Thanks to Barbara for nominating me for the Sisterhood Award. If I was blog-savvy, I'd be able to link her website to her name...... http://barbaraboucher.blogspot.com/

My website is devoted to my life since losing my daughter at almost 38 weeks into my pregnancy. As such, there are very little (if any) positive posts here. Today shall be different.

Here are the rules:
Put the logo on your blog or post.
Nominate at least 10 blogs with great attitude and/or gratitude.
Be sure to link to your nominees in your post.
Let your nominees know they have received the award by leaving them a comment on their blog.
Be sure to link this post to the person who nominated you for the award.

There are so many lovely baby-lost mamas whose blogs I frequent and whose stories/posts resonate deeply within me. You baby-lost mamas are there for me, always. Thank you.

Ines http://mybutterflychild.blogspot.com

Kara http://notalwaysclevergirl.blogspot.com

Shalini http://shaliniwhite.blogspot.com

Amy http://ourbabyboy25.blogspot.com

Sally http://tuesdayshope.blogspot.com/

Ciaran's mom http://allthelittleponies.blogspot.com/

Aliza http://lifewithoutmybaby.wordpress.com/

Rebekah http://mylifeafterlevi.blogspot.com/

Aly http://mourningslight.blogspot.com/

Joy http://livingacharmedlife.blogspot.com/

10 months today...

Today is exactly 10 months since I lost Kara. I feel anxious that I'm that far out from her, that it's been almost 1 year.

In the early months of my grief I was paralyzed. The grief was so severe that I couldn't sleep or eat, I could hardly function at all. I had anxiety attacks which I was sure would kill me; a pounding heart, waves of raw panic, hysterical outbursts of crying. I begged God to please let me die so that I could be free of this suffering and be with my daughter. DH and I holed up in our house and suffered through the worst time of our lives.

My birthday was 4 weeks after Kara died, and my dad & stepmom took us to dinner. This was our first time out of the house and I pushed myself to go, thinking I needed to get out of that self-imposed prison. I remember feeling completely detatched at dinner, the conversation incomprehensible to me. My thoughts were on my missing baby, and how could I be here at dinner while the rest of the world goes on with their lives, while my baby is dead? It was surreal. I remember looking in the bathroom mirror and seeing a new mother without her baby. It was obvious to me that everyone else saw the same thing - with my swollen belly and no baby in tow. I cried numerous times throughout dinner, straining to hold in the tears as the hugely pregnant hostess seated tables nearby. Looking at my dad across the table, I thought of his face, wet with tears, when he met us at the hospital while we waited for me to go into labor. I broke his heart that day. This was the second time in my life I had ever seen my father cry.

At 10 months out, I look back on the early days with mixed emotions. When I'm having a few tough days and I'm suffering, I think back to the early months and I can see the healing that's taken place within me. I look back and remember just how bad suffering can really be, and I know that I can get through this. At the same time, I'm sad that I'm getting farther and farther away from her birth and death. It doesn't make sense to me. I believe in Heaven, I believe that someday I will be reunited with Kara. But it makes me so sad to know that with each day, I'm one day father from her. I should be thinking that I'm one day closer to her.

Perhaps one day I will be able to see this journey as approaching her, as opposed to leaving her behind.

Step kids

My husband will be home late tonight because he's picking his children up for the weekend. Oh joy. I get to take care of other people's kids all weekend while missing my own, all the while getting no appreciation or recognition for my efforts. I resent them. I resent their happy, carefree lives; their innocence, their baby brother who was born just 1 week after my baby died. I resent having their living, breathing selves in my home and having to listen to their gaiety and laughter. I am jealous that my husband has living children and I do not. I worry that his living children make him 'forget' Kara or miss her less. I know it is not true, because I told him I think about it and he reassures me that nothing could ever make him forget her, or take the pain away from his heart. He assured me that he still cries at least once a day (and it oddly reassured me) and that his living children could never soften the grief and love he feels for Kara. Yet I still resent them for their lives and their meaning to my DH. I want to give him more children. I want to have OUR children, not someone else's. I've taken care of his children (with his ex-wife) for over 10 years now - I'm tired of faking it. I'm tired of feeling left out of this family. I feel no connection to them after 10 years (thanks to their b*tch mother.) Don't get me wrong - they're great kids. Polite, sweet and good-natured. But they're not mine. God help me, I can't get past it. At the end of the day, I'm just 'B'. Unappreciated, unconnected genetically.

I want my own children to need me, to want their mother. I want my own children to make my husband's eyes glitter with happiness and laughter. I want my own children to celebrate the holidays with and to bring to family functions. I want to kiss my own children goodnight and to give them warm hugs and soft lullabyes. I want to raise my own children - teach them right from wrong, help them to grow into the best people they can be. Infertility and grief are strange bedfellows - they feed off of one another and keep my heart aching over one or the other. My infetility and my grief also combine to make me resentful of my stepchildren. I should be grown-up enough to overcome this, but I'm not. The sad reality is that I am a bitter, grieving mother forced to care for her perfectly healthy stepchildren, while her baby is dead.

I can't even say that I'll try to do better. I can't. It's simply not in me after 10 years of trying. I'd rather go shopping while they're here than take them bowling with DH. I'd rather go to the gym and let them make themselves cereal than stay home and make pancakes or a family-Sunday-breakfast. We are not a family and I can't pretend that we are. I am their maid, their cook, their laundress...that is all. I feel like it would have been different, had Kara lived. We would have been a family, finally connected by blood. Maybe it will be different if we have a rainbow baby. I hope that a real, live baby will soften the boundaries between us and make us a real family someday. I believe that is what it would take to change what is.




I miss my girl. I miss her every minute of every day.