I met with a couple of good friends from the lab I worked at during college last week. They're both older women, one with grand children and the other not far behind. And they are very dear to me, so their company was definitely needed. Melanie is on Facebook and read my post about putting baby stuff away. She decided to email as that didn't seem right, especially since she knew how far along I should be. After much conversation with her and Barbara, going over the events of June 1st, sharing pictures, and just discussing my loss and how it's affecting me, Melanie was struck with my continued deep love for Korbin. She said, 'What a lucky little guy, to have two parents who still love him so much.'
I love Korbin with a love I didn't know was possible. It's depth, it's wholeness. I didn't know I could love someone so much. My heart aches from the hole that's left now that Korbin's gone. I hope in time it's swallowed up by the love I will always have for him. That I can keep him forever in my heart. Another dear friend, Ari, said that although he's gone, his love is pouring down on us. And I really need to hear that. There is so much bottled up inside, sometimes I feel I'm bursting at the seams. I just need my baby to take care of. Yes, I have the dogs and Ryan, the house and whatnot to care for. But none of that comes close to the bond I had with Korbin and how much I was looking forward to building on that as Ryan and I raised our beautiful son.
I got a lotta love to give.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Recognition
Tonight a coworker exclaimed as we were leaving a BBQ early, "oh, you don't have any kids!"
Really? I'm pretty sure she knows everything I just went through, sent food and cards. And then to say that!? It really sucks. I am a mom. But I don't get to be a mom. Therefore, to the outside world, I'm not a mom. And that really hurts.
What I really wanted to say in response was, "Ya, he may not be here with us but we still had a kid."
But in the moment I stopped myself. I know people aren't trying to say hurtful things, but that doesn't make them hurt any less. The hot knife still rips into my heart with each comment like the one above.
You know, I'd love to have to worry about someone besides myself. I'd give anything to have to buy diapers, worry about whether my child is getting the healthiest food possible, finding a sitter for a random night out, or whether we can afford everything we want for our child. I would give anything to have those thoughts and concerns. To not have time for anything because I have to care for my child.
I feel like I am too efficient now. I get a chore done and then I wonder, now what? What do I do with myself for the next chunk of time till there's a meal to prepare or another chore pops up? I should be caring for a child, wondering how much sleep I'll hopefully get, and whether I've gotten enough laundry done for the family.
It really, really sucks. I don't get to be a mom. But I am a mom.
I got a lotta love to give.
Really? I'm pretty sure she knows everything I just went through, sent food and cards. And then to say that!? It really sucks. I am a mom. But I don't get to be a mom. Therefore, to the outside world, I'm not a mom. And that really hurts.
What I really wanted to say in response was, "Ya, he may not be here with us but we still had a kid."
But in the moment I stopped myself. I know people aren't trying to say hurtful things, but that doesn't make them hurt any less. The hot knife still rips into my heart with each comment like the one above.
You know, I'd love to have to worry about someone besides myself. I'd give anything to have to buy diapers, worry about whether my child is getting the healthiest food possible, finding a sitter for a random night out, or whether we can afford everything we want for our child. I would give anything to have those thoughts and concerns. To not have time for anything because I have to care for my child.
I feel like I am too efficient now. I get a chore done and then I wonder, now what? What do I do with myself for the next chunk of time till there's a meal to prepare or another chore pops up? I should be caring for a child, wondering how much sleep I'll hopefully get, and whether I've gotten enough laundry done for the family.
It really, really sucks. I don't get to be a mom. But I am a mom.
I got a lotta love to give.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Roller coaster ride
All week long I've been tossing and turning from about 2am on with the worst stomach cramps ever, and my body just wants to rid itself of anything that comes its way. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me until I received a message from my stepmom yesterday that reduced me to tears as she cried into the phone. She said she misses Korbin too, and that she knows how long it's been, 12weeks this Friday, since we lost him. It hit me. My body is going into repeat of June 1st. Every freaking day this week. It's Groundhog's Day from Hell. And oh so cruel. I finally told one of my coworkers as she kept asking if I thought I had a virus or something else. She understood what I was trying to say as I began to cry and break down a bit in front of her and didn't need any further explanation. It sucks. It really fucking sucks. And it's not fair and it's not supposed to be how life is for Ryan and me. We're supposed to be happy and getting ready for Korbin. Instead, 12weeks ago today I left work the happiest I have ever been in my life. We finished Korbin's Babies R Us registry. And then June 1st came. I've been in such a time warp. Last memories being of myself pregnant as if trying to block out what happened, yet holding onto my memories of Korbin with us so desperately too. It's an emotional roller coaster.
I just want my baby back. Because I got a lotta love to give.
I just want my baby back. Because I got a lotta love to give.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Crying
I have an ever present headache and sore throat now from crying every day since June 1st. Every day. And I'm not talking 5-10minutes. This is an hour in the least, coughing and sputtering while trying to quiet at times to let Ryan sleep from whatever weird work schedule he's on. So much crying.
Our neighbors are Thai-Laos and Vietnamese. Lan, the mother of three beautiful boys (their first born was delivered at 24weeks3days...) explained to me yesterday that in their culture, when someone dies, you do not cry. They believe that when you cry, the person you lost looks back. And in looking back to you their journey to Heaven is halted, and they become caught in between. They want their loved ones' spirits to make it to Heaven, so they mustn't cry in order to let them go.
These were very powerful words for me to take in yesterday. I feel such a constant pain that usually overwhelms me and brings me straight to tears. The pain from this incredibly difficult loss (my eyes are welling up with tears as I write this now) taps into a part of me that so strongly wants Korbin back I almost believe I can have him back if I will it hard enough. But I have to let him go. I have to let my precious angel in Heaven rest in peace. So much easier said than done.
Today I pondered a lot how I can emotionally let him go. There is guilt associated with this as it sounds and seems like I am forgetting him, or trying to move on. But that is just the opposite. I am simply trying to accept that he's gone, and nothing can change that. I can't will him back to life, back into my protective arms. And at the same time, I desperately need my baby to care for. Korbin is irreplaceable, but that doesn't mean by having more kids we're trying to replace him. And why must I punish myself and push off having more children? Yes, Korbin deserves his time to be remembered. He is forever in my heart. Forever.
Knowing this, I need to try for more kids sooner than later. To me, waiting to have more kids a) wasn't the original plan (we wanted to have them "boom boom" as Ryan says), and b) is putting life on hold. Thinking this way helps me put a purpose to every day life again. Working, moving up the ladder and making more money, continuing to fix the house, etc. I didn't understand it at first, and at first thought waiting was the most appropriate thing to do, but I totally get why couples try again so soon after a loss. We were ready to have kids, so why stop now? We're not getting any younger.
Ryan is not on the same page however. Completely understandable. We have a few things to get in order still. And I'm pretty sure I speak for us both when I say that we're scared to death to lose a child. It's the most difficult loss either of us has had to deal with, keeps us at each others' throats at times because we're on such opposite wavelengths in grieving. But I guess you can't let fear stop you from living life. I think I already blogged about doing something every day that scares you. I think I'm doing that, but I could do more for sure. I just want to nurture my family. Because I got a lotta love to give.
Our neighbors are Thai-Laos and Vietnamese. Lan, the mother of three beautiful boys (their first born was delivered at 24weeks3days...) explained to me yesterday that in their culture, when someone dies, you do not cry. They believe that when you cry, the person you lost looks back. And in looking back to you their journey to Heaven is halted, and they become caught in between. They want their loved ones' spirits to make it to Heaven, so they mustn't cry in order to let them go.
These were very powerful words for me to take in yesterday. I feel such a constant pain that usually overwhelms me and brings me straight to tears. The pain from this incredibly difficult loss (my eyes are welling up with tears as I write this now) taps into a part of me that so strongly wants Korbin back I almost believe I can have him back if I will it hard enough. But I have to let him go. I have to let my precious angel in Heaven rest in peace. So much easier said than done.
Today I pondered a lot how I can emotionally let him go. There is guilt associated with this as it sounds and seems like I am forgetting him, or trying to move on. But that is just the opposite. I am simply trying to accept that he's gone, and nothing can change that. I can't will him back to life, back into my protective arms. And at the same time, I desperately need my baby to care for. Korbin is irreplaceable, but that doesn't mean by having more kids we're trying to replace him. And why must I punish myself and push off having more children? Yes, Korbin deserves his time to be remembered. He is forever in my heart. Forever.
Knowing this, I need to try for more kids sooner than later. To me, waiting to have more kids a) wasn't the original plan (we wanted to have them "boom boom" as Ryan says), and b) is putting life on hold. Thinking this way helps me put a purpose to every day life again. Working, moving up the ladder and making more money, continuing to fix the house, etc. I didn't understand it at first, and at first thought waiting was the most appropriate thing to do, but I totally get why couples try again so soon after a loss. We were ready to have kids, so why stop now? We're not getting any younger.
Ryan is not on the same page however. Completely understandable. We have a few things to get in order still. And I'm pretty sure I speak for us both when I say that we're scared to death to lose a child. It's the most difficult loss either of us has had to deal with, keeps us at each others' throats at times because we're on such opposite wavelengths in grieving. But I guess you can't let fear stop you from living life. I think I already blogged about doing something every day that scares you. I think I'm doing that, but I could do more for sure. I just want to nurture my family. Because I got a lotta love to give.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Baby Love, My Baby Love
I haven't written in quite some time because what I'm about write is the most painful experience I've ever had in my life.
On June 1st I woke up not feeling well, but knowing I had my 24week appointment at 10am, told myself everything would be fine. I got Ryan to work, then came home to bathe and get dressed. There was rhythmic tightening that just kept coming. It never hurt, but it kept coming on more frequently. Going to the bathroom just before leaving there was some blood. There had been some the night before, but it went away. The on-call doc said to come in if it continued, but it stopped. I got to my ob's office, checked in, and then told the nurse,'I think I'm in Pre-term labor.' She rolled her eyes, asked why I thought that, and then promptly got my doc after hearing my symptoms.
Dr. Pray did just a partial, quick check and confirmed what I had been fearing. I was in full labor and the bag of waters was showing. Too far along to try and slow labor down now, but she assured me babies can survive being born at 24weeks. Ultrasound showed Korbin had flipped from his always head down position to being back down. Each contraction was therefore bending him in half. I left my body I think when Pre-term labor was confirmed. And I'm not sure I've fully returned to it yet.
I was rushed to the OR, and twelve minutes after entering the OR Korbin was born.The anesthesiologist, Dr. Morgan, had to knock me out as the epidural didn't have time to kick in and I could feel everything. When he woke me up, he congratulated me and everything seemed okay for a moment. Then I heard the perinatologist ask for a shot of epinephrine. Then he asked for a second. Then he asked to try one more. I knew something was wrong. Dr. Morgan put his hand on my head and said, 'I am so sorry.'
The next thing I knew Korbin was being held by my side, and then Ryan walked in. He had been lost in the hospital for 30min and only found me with the help of my boss, Cindee. The nurse asked if we wanted to baptize him and I said yes. I baptized my son with tap water out of a styrofoam cup. Not exactly the baptism I had envisioned for him. As they held him at my side, I just stared at him and cried, willing him to live. He made a sound, which at the time I interpreted as a precious tiny baby sound. Now that sound haunts me as I've realized it was from him trying to breathe, but his lungs were just too premature to handle the outside world still.
As we waited for a more permanent room for me to recover from surgery in, Korbin was placed on my chest. As family came in, they slowly realized he was there. So tiny, he almost went unnoticed. We had time with him. He was born at 10:59am, 1lb 8oz and 13inches long at 24weeks5days. He was pronounced while laying on my chest at 12:45pm. Cold. I'll never forget how cold he felt to my lips when I kissed him on his forehead. I wish I'd kissed him sooner. I had Chelsea get a couple of pictures of me holding him, and the hospital took some pictures for us too. He was so bruised from the contractions, but he was the most beautiful baby I have ever laid my eyes on. A spitting image of Ryan, everything I had hoped and prayed he would be.
The perinatologist strongly suggested an autopsy to explain why they couldn't incubate, or why his heart wouldn't respond to the epinephrine when it had started out so strong. He made us believe we had something wrong with that we were passing on. As times passed, I actually leaned on this as the reason for him to not be with us. I began to believe that life would not have been good for him because whatever difficulties he had. But we got the report only to find out he was the perfect baby boy I had hoped and prayed for. He was perfect. That crushed me. As if I hadn't named myself enough beforehand.
How do I feel? How am I managing? Not well, despite what everyone tells me. I keep hearing how strong I am, but I feel like I'm crumbling away inside. I can't wrap my brain around not having him with us. I'm angry he's gone, and I would give anything to have him here with us, anything. The pain in my heart, the grief, is so overwhelming sometimes it paralyzes me. I've lost my drive in life. Everything I've done and was doing was to make life perfect for Korbin. I am so incredibly sad. I just want to cradle him in my arms. Call out to him while I watch him play in the back yard. Cook for him. Pick the perfect school. Finish his nursery. His race car nursery. I was so happy, so excited. That's gone now. It all left me when I let go of him and the nurse walked out of our room with him, never to be seen or touched or held again. Life was so perfect, and now there will always be a hole where Korbin's supposed to be. Birthdays, holidays, future children. I didn't know how deeply I could love someone until I found out he was coming. I will always love my precious Korbin.
Baby Love, My Baby Love.
On June 1st I woke up not feeling well, but knowing I had my 24week appointment at 10am, told myself everything would be fine. I got Ryan to work, then came home to bathe and get dressed. There was rhythmic tightening that just kept coming. It never hurt, but it kept coming on more frequently. Going to the bathroom just before leaving there was some blood. There had been some the night before, but it went away. The on-call doc said to come in if it continued, but it stopped. I got to my ob's office, checked in, and then told the nurse,'I think I'm in Pre-term labor.' She rolled her eyes, asked why I thought that, and then promptly got my doc after hearing my symptoms.
Dr. Pray did just a partial, quick check and confirmed what I had been fearing. I was in full labor and the bag of waters was showing. Too far along to try and slow labor down now, but she assured me babies can survive being born at 24weeks. Ultrasound showed Korbin had flipped from his always head down position to being back down. Each contraction was therefore bending him in half. I left my body I think when Pre-term labor was confirmed. And I'm not sure I've fully returned to it yet.
I was rushed to the OR, and twelve minutes after entering the OR Korbin was born.The anesthesiologist, Dr. Morgan, had to knock me out as the epidural didn't have time to kick in and I could feel everything. When he woke me up, he congratulated me and everything seemed okay for a moment. Then I heard the perinatologist ask for a shot of epinephrine. Then he asked for a second. Then he asked to try one more. I knew something was wrong. Dr. Morgan put his hand on my head and said, 'I am so sorry.'
The next thing I knew Korbin was being held by my side, and then Ryan walked in. He had been lost in the hospital for 30min and only found me with the help of my boss, Cindee. The nurse asked if we wanted to baptize him and I said yes. I baptized my son with tap water out of a styrofoam cup. Not exactly the baptism I had envisioned for him. As they held him at my side, I just stared at him and cried, willing him to live. He made a sound, which at the time I interpreted as a precious tiny baby sound. Now that sound haunts me as I've realized it was from him trying to breathe, but his lungs were just too premature to handle the outside world still.
As we waited for a more permanent room for me to recover from surgery in, Korbin was placed on my chest. As family came in, they slowly realized he was there. So tiny, he almost went unnoticed. We had time with him. He was born at 10:59am, 1lb 8oz and 13inches long at 24weeks5days. He was pronounced while laying on my chest at 12:45pm. Cold. I'll never forget how cold he felt to my lips when I kissed him on his forehead. I wish I'd kissed him sooner. I had Chelsea get a couple of pictures of me holding him, and the hospital took some pictures for us too. He was so bruised from the contractions, but he was the most beautiful baby I have ever laid my eyes on. A spitting image of Ryan, everything I had hoped and prayed he would be.
The perinatologist strongly suggested an autopsy to explain why they couldn't incubate, or why his heart wouldn't respond to the epinephrine when it had started out so strong. He made us believe we had something wrong with that we were passing on. As times passed, I actually leaned on this as the reason for him to not be with us. I began to believe that life would not have been good for him because whatever difficulties he had. But we got the report only to find out he was the perfect baby boy I had hoped and prayed for. He was perfect. That crushed me. As if I hadn't named myself enough beforehand.
How do I feel? How am I managing? Not well, despite what everyone tells me. I keep hearing how strong I am, but I feel like I'm crumbling away inside. I can't wrap my brain around not having him with us. I'm angry he's gone, and I would give anything to have him here with us, anything. The pain in my heart, the grief, is so overwhelming sometimes it paralyzes me. I've lost my drive in life. Everything I've done and was doing was to make life perfect for Korbin. I am so incredibly sad. I just want to cradle him in my arms. Call out to him while I watch him play in the back yard. Cook for him. Pick the perfect school. Finish his nursery. His race car nursery. I was so happy, so excited. That's gone now. It all left me when I let go of him and the nurse walked out of our room with him, never to be seen or touched or held again. Life was so perfect, and now there will always be a hole where Korbin's supposed to be. Birthdays, holidays, future children. I didn't know how deeply I could love someone until I found out he was coming. I will always love my precious Korbin.
Baby Love, My Baby Love.
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