Mi Isla Sola

Tomorrow, I’m having my 18 week ultrasound. I had one at 15 weeks, but not routine (horrible no heartbeat scare I wrote about earlier).  I’ve never had an ultrasound on schedule before. Both other kids were over 25 weeks, due to my gross procrastination. This one is right on schedule, give or take a few days. I am desperately hoping to find out the sex.  I need to know for me whether or not I can lay my hopes of mothering a daughter to rest forever or not. I don’t want to deal with the grieving of that while holding a new son. It’s not fair to him. Plus, it would give me another 18 or so weeks to bond with him, and learn to accept that a daughter isn’t in the cards for us.  I realize it may sound selfish to even profess a preference, but what the hell.. just because I’ve lost a baby doesn’t mean I’ve given up on all my dreams. I would like to have a daughter, this side of life. I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. So, my amazing doctor is talking to the US tech in the morning, before my scan, in hopes of swaying her to reveal the sex to us, which is against hospital policy (something about prolonging a test in an already time strapped office… yadda, yadda, yadda…). I hope she’s successful. I’d hate to have to drive all the way to Spokane to get a 3D one done (but I’d still do it).

I’m also anxious about the scan itself. I’m mentally checking off all the things I’ve done since discovering this pregnancy… folic acid, check (most of the time), prenatal vitamin, check (ditto).  Caffeine, held to a 1 cup day limit, check… all good so far.. no need to fret. Yet, fret I do. Because hell, anything can happen. Sadly, membership in the deadbabyclub opens your eyes to the kaleidescope of things that can go wrong in the 40 weeks on the inside. So, yeah, I’m nervous. I hope all is well, and I think I’m feeling some movement…maybe… so I do hope. But I’m well aware of all the possibilities, in a way that I never have been before.  I guess that’s a bit of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I’m now burdened with all that knowledge. On the other hand, I’m armed with all that knowledge. Keep your fingers crossed for a healthy heartbeat tomorrow.

I have been reading on other blogs, and comments about families and friends reactions to subsequent pregnancy news. Especially the ones where the announcement isn’t made in the first half, or even until the birth of said sub.  I am relieved somewhat, to learn that my own extended family and circle of friends is not that unusual. It seems lots of people don’t really acknowledge the babies who’ve died, and yet are all too anxious to celebrate the new birth, as though the ‘other one’ never happened. I can’t tell you how much this infuriates me. I feel such a rage for our babies. Like, how DARE they not acknowledge them, extend support and love in our darkest hour, but rather hide in the shadows and hope it all ‘blows over’ and we’re back to ‘normal’ soon… and that with a sub baby, now they can finally approach us, and act like nothing ever happened. Fuck that. FUCK THAT.  I have all but written off people in my life who have reacted this way. I actually don’t give two shits that “it” has made you uncomfortable and you “don’t know what to say” so you say nothing, and completely avoid me. I am shocked, though I suppose I shouldn’t be. Perhaps I should be grateful that finally, after all these years, I am seeing these people’s “true colours” and learning what they’re really all about. I’m learning that I have very little tolerance, patience and desire to be anywhere near people like this. I admit, hindsight is 20/20, but I know I would never have abandoned a friend or close relative in their darkest hour. Never. I can’t believe they’d think I wouldn’t notice.

So, yeah. If they find out through the grapevine, and feel slighted because I didn’t tell them personally, fuck them! Holy shit it makes me so mad I see red. The nerve. The absolute nerve. One gift from Isla is that I can truly see through the bullshit now. And there’s a tremendous amount of it. I am also eternally grateful for the people who DID stand by me, during the most horrible times, held me, cried with me, loved Isla and said so, out loud. They are the angels among us. There is no price on that. It is something I will cherish until I die. Their honour to my little girl, despite their own discomfort or pain. I want to say “Bless them” but what can an atheist say, instead? Thank [insert deity of choice here] for them? I am very grateful. The truly meaningful people in my life stand out in all of this. There is no faking it. That is a gift from Isla. What a treasure she was. How lucky I was to have her, and learn from her.

How many people make that much of an impact in 12 hours of life?

2 days until Christmas eve.  When I was a kid, this was the time that became manic with excitement. Just unbelievably so. There was a  vibration in the air, a ‘feeling’ of something special… my sister and I would wrap up our own toys, and put them under the tree, just to see presents under the tree, and we’d gleefully open them, as we had no idea what the other had wrapped. Innocent, childhood fun.

Even before Isla died, my excitement for the holiday season was waning. I have found in the past few years, that I am much less able to muster Christmas spirit as I was in the past. It feels very contrived, very staged, artificial. I think the reason is two-fold, at least. I don’t do enough to make my life meaningful. I mean, I have my son, my husband, and a great family, but I don’t work, and I don’t have a very big social circle. I don’t volunteer, so there isn’t a big holiday buzz around here, as it’s  business as usual, for the most part.

Of course, the other reason is Isla. This is our second Christmas without our daughter. It is quite different in many ways. Last Christmas, we were 3 months into our loss, just coming out of the shock phase. It was a numb time, I was kept afloat entirely by the shock, and my son. We did do Christmas, but it was going through the motions. This year, we are in a very different place. It’s been a year, and 3 months, and I am pregnant again. In many ways, I am ‘happier’ than I was last year. I have hope, lots to look forward to (hopefully), still my amazing son to make my holiday spirit shine a bit. But there is a permanent sadness and weight that has burrowed into my heart, that wasn’t there last year. At 3 months, I still had that illusion that everything would eventually be okay. I would eventually be ‘over’ it, and find true happiness again. That next year, I’d be pregnant again and we’d be back to normal (hehe, love that expression).  I was naive, despite the tragedy we’d been through. I hoped for something that I now know will not ever be. I won’t ever be the same, I will always feel Isla’s absence. I will always feel a sting of her not being there when she should. At family gatherings, out for dinner with our friends and all their children. At home, with our other kid(s, hopefully) in the bath,  summer holidays – all lined up in the backseat… All of it. There won’t be a time, ever, where I feel complete. This is new, and this I grieve this year. Even if I had a thousand more children, it would not take that pain away. And now I have the wisdom and clarity to know that this is permanent. This is what they mean when they say ‘you never get over it’ and ‘it doesn’t get better, it gets different’.. I always figured I was ‘different’ from those moms, who wallow in pain, and couldn’t get past their grief and find meaning in their lives. Man, how ignorant and naive, and truly insulting that is. A slap in the face to their grief. And now I see how the rest of the world likely sees me:  a mom who wallows in pain, and  can’t get past her grief to find meaning. I know I am not those things, but I know the perception is likely there.

We have not announced this new pregnancy officially to anyone except our families, and very close friends who were supportive and available when Isla died.  Honestly, if you can’t reach out in tragedy, I sure don’t want to celebrate with you. I have lost the respect and love for so, so many people in the last year. I am continuously stunned at how people readily turn away from tragedy, and treat you like you never existed, or completely ignore your loss. I realize death is a touchy subject (no shit). I realize a baby’s death is unimaginable and difficult to talk about. But to completely abandon your friends because you are uncomfortable with it? I am honestly speechless over it. I know hindsight is 20/20, and I may have done the same thing. Probably would have, even. But tough shit. I’m on the other side now, and unable to care enough about any of them to try to reach out. So, many relationships are severed, many are fractured, and my opinions of longtime friends and family are tainted, probably permanently. So, long story short (well, sorta), that’s why we’ve chosen not to share our news. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be congratulated by people who never stepped up and said “I”m sorry” when Isla died. I don’t want  anything from them.

I don’t want ‘congratulations’ from anyone, actually. There’s nothing to congratulate yet except my ability to conceive. There is no baby. There is no 12 week hurdle for us to pass. No, we’re not talking about names, or picking out bedding.  I am thinking about heartbeats, umbilical cords, amniotic fluid levels,  and the plethora of other things that can go wrong, as I’ve learned in deadbabyland.  The last thing I am thinking about is names and colours. If we do happen to bring a baby home in May, there won’t be much it needs besides my boobs, diapers and a few sleepers. I have that already, so I figure we’re set.

It’s hard enough to read the weekly updates on the baby’s progress.. I keep thinking of Isla, and how she went through these stages, all for nothing. She developed little finger prints, her eyes opened, she sucked her thumb, she learned my voice, all for nothing. So every time I read an update,  I am struck with how much sadness taints my efforts to positively anticipate this baby. I am trying really hard not to be a debbie downer with all of it, but something beyond my conscious self is at work. I am unable to hope for this baby without feeling anger for the hope. Anger at feeling I should “know better”. I realize this is ridiculous, but those of you in DBL will understand, I hope. Tim feels frustrated, and somewhat mad that I’m not ‘bonding’ with this baby, and in truth, I’m not. I’m trying (again, unconsciously) to keep it at bay.. in case.. I doubt it’ll be helpful, so why bother, right? I’d still be devastated if we lost it. May as well just jump in, love it, want it, and be vulnerable on the outside too, right? Well, I can’t. Somehow, I can’t do it. I want to, but am unable to, and it frustrates me too.

Yay for grief. The gift that keeps on giving.

So… tim told on facebook.. Ugh.. I hate that it’s ‘out there’ now.. we have some mutual friends, and I’m just crazy enough to hope they don’t comment on my facebook too.. I don’t know why, it’s as if I think once every sphere of my life discovers I’m pregnant again, the baby will be taken away from me. Once I’m at my most vulnerable, fragile and open to scrutiny, it’ll all be squashed for everyone to see. Part of me does want to tell.. Get it done, out of the way, etc.. It probably wouldn’t be as bad as I think, it never is.. but I can’t bring myself to do it..

However, here, in the secret world of blogging, where the baby thieves don’t know me, I can talk about it.  Today (Sunday) is 16 weeks. I *think* I feel something… I think I feel flutters, little tumblings… obviously,  I can’t be sure, but wth, it doesn’t hurt to think it might be, right?  I’m getting a bit anxious about the 18 week ultrasound.. I am really hoping to find out the sex.. I am thinking if it’s a boy, I will have some sadness, and renewed grief to work through… the loss of a daughter forever, and another chance at one.. I know it probably sounds terribly selfish to hope for one or the other after all we’ve been through. I read an interesting blog the other day (sorry, I can’t credit, I can’t remember where I read it) that in a sub pregnancy, you lose the right to have a preference. It sounds greedy, and you should take what you get. Like someone complaining at the food bank or something. The whole ‘be glad you got anything at all’… I feel guilty when I express that I’d like a girl this time.. Non-loss parents don’t have to endure this, and it baffles me why we do…  It is true, I’ll be thrilled with a boy too, it’s just that I’dlike another opportunity to raise a daughter. Am I really so horrible for that? Honestly, I don’t think so.

Today I read a post on fellow bereaved moms blog.. she has recently given birth to her rainbow baby. Her delivery went exactly as I have imagined mine will go for months. Hands strapped down (though we did avoid this with Isla, and I didn’t ‘freak out’ when I knew something was wrong, so I don’t know why they need to do this, really.), almost panicky with anxiety for that short time when they stop monitoring to deliver… feeling pressure, holding Tim’s hand, both of us not even able to speak, so much riding on this single moment in time. Fate sitting there like a ball, teetering on the tip of  a mountain, just waiting to decide which way to fall. I can barely bring myself to hope for a living breathing, crying baby at the end of  this. Though I have Evan, and know what it’s like to deliver a live  child, I will say it is absolutely not the same as having a rainbow baby. There was never the ‘possibility’ in my mind that things could go wrong. My biggest grievance was that he was born via c section, and how I had ‘failed’ my son, my body.  Amazing how quickly our priorities and outlooks change. Reading that other mom’s birth story, and how she held her newborn son rocked me deeply. Birthing my sub baby is something I try not to think about a whole lot, partly because I still have doubts we’ll even get that far, and I don’t want to tease myself. Partly because I can’t handle dreaming of something so fantastic, just to have it snatched away from me again… I just can’t wade into that much hope. It’s like dreaming all day of winning the lottery, then remembering how broke you are, and how you actually don’t have much at all. It’s not a great analogy, but it kind of conveys what I mean. Anyway, I am thrilled for K@lakly, and feel an outpouring from my heart I didn’t know possible for a woman I’ve never met. Her story is a reminder that good things do happen, even after tragic ones, and it is possible to experience pure joy and gratitude again in life. I hold tightly to this hope, and I hope I can hold it til May.

My mom keeps asking when I’m going to officially ‘tell’ everyone I’m pregnant again. I’ve maintained from the start that I’m not ‘officially’ going to. It will be a word of mouth thing, that gets around via other people’s mouths. Tim and I have told the people who matter most to us; those most supportive in our loss, those we are closest to, and those who understand how very difficult a sub pregnancy is. My aunt and uncle, who I was pretty close to growing up have found out, via their daughter, which was how I ‘d hoped they would. They called my mom, and asked how I was, and then stated that ‘they knew I was pregnant’… I don’t know the tone, but I sense they’re hurt and maybe a little miffed that they had to find out from my cousin rather than me, or my parents. I don’t know how to feel about this. On the one hand, tough shit. It’s not exactly time to spark up cigars, you know? There’s nothing to celebrate yet, and yeah, breaking big news like this is a means of celebration. I’m not ready for that kind of fanfare. So, I feel justified in my rationale, yet, I feel guilty too. They are my favourite aunt and uncle, would not be ‘weird’ about it, so maybe I should have told. Now there’s going to be an awkwardness around it. I want to resolve it, but I don’t know what to say… maybe just that it’s weird for us, it’s not quite ‘celebratory’ news for us, and I hope they understand our reluctance to share…. if they can’t, well, it’s out of my hands, right? (right?) I wish I didn’ t have this personality of the oldest child.. responsibility and guilt.. hand in hand..  whheee! Family dynamics are so fun!

Today for the first time in quite some time, I broke down. I think sometimes it gets too easy to avoid pain and grief, once you become an expert at living with it, as I have. Today, I stumbled upon some youtube videos and that was it. Fully in the pit. Missing my daughter like I haven’t in months. Feeling that absence that reminds me of how forever this is, and how I will always miss her and she’ll never come back. This longing is permanent. It’s my link to her, it’s all I have. That still suffocates me sometimes…

It amazes me how I can sit here, pregnant, and still hate pregnant women. I thought for sure once I was back on ‘this side’ of pregnancy and living fetuses, I would be at least somewhat happy about it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for another shot at motherhood, but I’m not ‘fixed’ or ‘better’ now that I am pregnant. It’s actually even lonelier in some regards. The pregnancy magazines are a bloody joke. “Colours for the nursery”  “How to reduce stretch marks” “naming your baby”..  How about “trying not to keep thinking your baby has died inside you” or “dead babies 101″ .. . I cannot even relate on the simplest level with these inane articles. I can’t talk with pregnant women whose biggest fear is having a csection, or labour pains… I just can’t do it. I wish there was a sub preg group here, because I’d be there in a flash.

Today was a horrible, horrible day. I had an appt. for a pap.. before all that, she just did a quick check of hb… the nurse practitioner learning aside her tried first… he couldn’t find it.. Doc tried next, she couldn’t fine it either… So, onto the portable ultrasound machine… No dice…. no hb, no movement.. I start thinking this has actually happened again. Holy shit, it’s happening again… Just as I’d always said.. ‘babies die and we don’t even know it until ultrasound..’ and here it had.. so, rather than freaking out, though I’m sure she was, on the inside, the doc called down to the US dept, and got me in for an emerg us..She actually has to pull me up from the table, and help me down. I am numb, and feel outside of my body. How dare I even hoped I might be so lucky. After a torturous hour chatting about the most inane things with the practitioner, we got in and the dr came too. 5 of us in there.. crowded, but wtf, I didn’t care.. I just wanted her to verify the death, and move forward.. d&c, whatever’s required..  So, ultrasound starts…. no movement.. no hb.. quiet… everything’s quiet… holy shit, I’m actually numb.  So, they decide to do a trans-vag.. Wow, do those ever suck. So..up goes the want, and I have to say, this is the most amazing resolution I’ve ever seen on a 2d scan. I must be reallllllly fat!  Head, check.. body, check.. hb……………………………………………………nope. movement……………………………………nope. So I look over at tim and shake my head like “nope, it’s gone”… and I actually truly believe it. In fact, I feel strangely in control, absolutely certain I can handle it, and know what to expect. Suddenly everyone kind of points at the screen and sputters some sounds and noises… they’ve found the heart! Then it’s gone again… I ask if they’re SURE. Tech won’t say for sure, and I tell her to hurry up and find the hb so I can cry.  Then it’s found, for real. She gets a bpm of 144. I actually don’t cry. I am calm, and angry at this bean for being such an asshole. HOW DARE I be thrust into this again.. sure, only at 15 weeks this time, but still, it’s all too familiar. Oddly, I am quite impressed at how I handled the whole thing. While waiting, we discussed who would tell whom, how long we’d each need before trying again, how we’d tell Evan, etc…

They said it could have been super hard to find because my uterus is already so big, (3rd preg, last one was only last year) and it’s hard to see.. I think it’s probably because I’m fat. But, I didn’t have those problems before… maybe I’m just fatter now.. Oh well, it has a heartbeat, and that’s all I bloody care about right now. For today, I’m still pregnant, and grateful for it. I wish I could have a drink.

Needless to say , we skipped all the rest of the appt, the doc was waaaaaaaay behind on her appts, and interestingly, my bp  was 164 / 85 at the start, and 106 / 70 at the end. Odd, eh?