Sunday, March 31, 2013

Easter Sunday

Today was a blah day. Like someone sapped the life out of me and I just floated through. This is partly due to seeing post after post after post of delighted little kids seeing their Easter basket, full of awe and wonder. And I just start thinking about what we would have done if Korbin were here. Would he have a basket at only 6mo? Would Ry and I have tried to do baskets for each other?
I was also feeling lifeless from dreading seeing the neighbor's niece, who is happily 6mo pregnant by accident. She is a sweet girl, but I just feel so jealous. She's excited, and so happy. And I remember being there, and I so badly want to be there again. I want to feel that excitement and hope again.
Feeling jealousy still makes me feel bad, and it makes me wonder when I can maybe feel happy for others having children. It seems the only answer is when I have my own to take home and love and raise. And it sounds harsh, but really that's just how it is. I want to worry about feeding and changing and dressing and losing sleep and play dates and child care. We were ready for it last year, so really life is just on hold until we actually get that. And until then, I just keep floating through. Waiting to do all the motherly things my heart desires.
And in my heart, I got a lotta love to give.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Harder than I thought

Living through the supposed-to-be's and reliving what life was like a year ago is so much more difficult than I had expected. Facing it head on felt so right, and I thought I was strong enough to do it often. But as I go through my calendar from last year, I find myself unable to write about the memories as often as I had hoped. I cried over and over again last weekend, and was horribly cranky as I tried to control the tears while with others. I've hit a rough patch, and am sure it won't be getting any easier as we approach Korbin's birthday.
We're still celebrating it, of course. I'm not sure how, but we're inviting everyone who really matters to us now for something at our house. We'll figure it out. Hopefully it won't be weird.
I did start Korbin's scrapbook, and thankfully I was with my sister and her close friend because that too was much more difficult to start than I had expected. But my sister calmly asked me if I was doing okay, and I made myself just say it out loud. 'Not really, and the nice days are actually the hardest.' Last spring the weather wasn't great (which didn't matter because I was so happily pregnant) but then we lost Korbin and then we had a gorgeous summer. It brings me back to that empty sadness. And it's funny how something I was actually looking forward to, sunshine and the light at the end of the darkness, is the very thing that makes me feel so down right now. It's debilitating and crushing and I feel unable to even get off the couch.
And on top of that, the scrapbook is actually really overwhelming emotionally. All the pictures of me and my belly, so excited, and so unknowing. I want that happiness back so badly, but it's just gone. Starting it was good for me though, and again, who I was with allowed me to do it. They asked me about some of the pictures and let me talk, and Chelsea's friend even shared about how her family has dealt with losing her brother. This will sound odd, but I so needed that. Someone outside of support group who could talk about loss too. Very few people around me allow that (and that's a topic for another post...). So it's nice to spend time with those who do. Refreshing, really.
Sharing can be so healing to a broken heart.
I got a lotta love to give.

Monday, March 18, 2013


I'm trying to get back into reading, which I have always loved to do. Getting lost in a book sounds like such an amazing escape from my mind and the thoughts and feelings that pull me down. So I let myself do just that, only to feel lower than before after forcing myself to read through what one of the characters endured. (It's obviously going to be wherever I turn, so I might as well just face it head on, happy about it or not.) She lost her child, and then her husband, so quickly and so devastatingly I became a blubbery mess on the plane as I finally finished her part of the story.
Really, I just can't escape it. Even when the pregnant character actually suffers a loss, it still just hurts. I'm not relieved that someone is actually dealing openly in public with infant loss. I'm just heartbroken again. All the emotions come crashing back into me like the waves of a tsunami. No control or way to stop it in it's path, just devastation.
I can't stop thinking about this character and what she endeared. And how, despite her heart break in her multiple losses, she kept reminding herself to not look back. And maybe because of that I dreamed the other night that we had just lost Korbin and that I was desparately saying, 'just give me a baby.' Like that would solve my problem, occupy my mind, heart and body enough. Then, with a newborn placed into my aching arms, I still felt the weight of the loss. It didn't make anything better, or solve the problem. Korbin's still gone, and I just hurt.
I want to find my strength somehow. This character was reborn, like a pheonix, and so soon after the losses she suffered. I think I've mentioned it before, but I wonder when I'll feel that renewed strength in life, when I'll have my rebirth and come out stronger than before.
What if I have, but I'm just not recognizing it within myself? Today a conversation with one of my managers led to him telling me how strongly I've come back after going through such a stressful life situation last year. This has really struck me today as a brand new idea in my grief journey. Am I stronger than I realize? I mean, people tell me all the time that I'm strong, that they can't imagine having to go through what Ry and I have gone through. All I've wanted to say to them is, 'you're crazy, I'm weak as hell, can't you see that?'
But maybe I am strong. Even though at times I feel so broken, devastated, and broken-hearted, maybe there is a strength within me that is responsible for keeping me going. We don't move on, we just keep going. And hopefully that's enough, because I got a lotta love to give.

Friday, March 8, 2013

About a Year Ago Today

I posted to the wonderful world of Facebook (aka over 300 people I know and maybe kind of know) that we were expecting 'Baby Love NĂºmero Uno.' I remember being so excited I was bursting to get the news out. Of course, close friends and family already knew. I wanted to be sure they knew before we 'told the world.'
Now I wonder how much we'll share next time around. We did wait to tell most people until we hit the so-called safe zone of 12+weeks. We'd passed the miscarriage zone, so we were totally having this baby with no chance of loss, right?
Naive. Soooo naive.
I think I'd still tell immediate family and a few close friends, and a few coworkers. But do I just stop posting on Facebook? Do I ignore it when I blog? Is that then denying that new baby's existence in the world? Is it unfair to have shared Korbin so much and then refrain from doing so with future little ones?
I guess only time will tell. And who knows how we'll feel next time around. I do hope we can feel some excitement, because I do remember it. The happiness. Such pure joy. A part of me knows we'll never feel so much joy or happiness like that again, which hurts down to the core of my being because that feeling should never be ripped from anyone. At any point in time. You do recover over time, though. But never 100%. I think because we are so naive until it's all ripped away. Reality isn't quite so joyful or exciting after that because you know a deeper truth now. And it still sucks, understanding that harsher side of reality that most are so lucky to never know....
Regardless of how much it sucks, there will be future babies who will hopefully bring a renewed sense of hope and joy and excitement, no matter how great or small. Because I got a lotta love to give.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

I'm Over It

Similac got my info and keeps sending me welcome to motherhood gifts and coupons. At first I thought I was strong enough to take these things I sadly do not need to think about and turn them into something good for someone in real need. Donating formula and bottles, coupons. Maybe I was strong enough at first, but now I am so over it.
Especially after receiving a survey today about my child's birth and what we feed him and how often. This probably wasn't very big of me, but I filled out the date, Korbin's birthday, checked the boxes indicating he was born at less than 28weeks and weighed less than 5lbs. But when they asked for the zip code for his doctor, I simply wrote, 'he died two hours after birth.'
AKA, stop sending me crap. Seriously, I am so over it. I don't need the constant reminder of what was supposed to be. And how does one get Jisa Jove from Lisa Love? Seriously just irritating now.
And the worst part, I am not strong enough to call them up and tell them why I don't want their items. It just sucks, but I honestly can't say it out loud over the phone. It was hard enough when the cord blood people starting hounding me, and continued to hound me even after I told them my baby had died shortly after birth. Not supportive, or sympathetic, or kind.
I hate these tough situations. They make me feel like I'm mean because I'm not doing something good with the items or acting like the bigger person any more. I'm not a mean person, I just want the difficult reminders to go away.
Because, really, I got a lotta love to give.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Ready, Or Not

As of today I am physically released and okay to try again. Waiting the nine months really only means the incidence of miscarriage drops dramatically, not so much that my uterus can't handle the pregnancy. It's weird that it has been nine months already, I almost can't believe it. And only three more months until Korbin's birthday; even more odd.
And yet, I am so not ready emotionally. In fact, I am so thankful Ry has pushed waiting until Korbin's birthday to even just think about trying again. We're not only allowing ourselves proper time to heal and grieve, but it's also out of respect for Korbin and the memory he deserves for such a short time with us.
To try again is going to be, well, not so exciting like it was the first time around. I mean, for one, I know too much about fertility. With how long it took to conceive at 28, who knows how long it will take after 30. And if we hit that one-year-and-still-haven't-conceived point, I will most definitely feel let down by life on a whole new level.
And two, I am terrified. Of more loss, and heartbreak, and emotional issues. What if we just start having miscarriage after miscarriage? What if the egg Korbin came from was the one good egg and the rest have no real chance for whatever genetic reason? And what if I just keep miscarrying because of my c-section? What if our next child is stillborn just before the planned c-section? I just can't take any more heartbreak or devastation.
So then, can we be okay trying again? I see it causing issues in other couples I now know, especially as each month passes and the pregnancy tests just keep coming up negative. That causes stress and anxiety and removes any remaining fun there could have been in the whole process. And it's supposed to be fun, exciting and joyful. Maybe even hopeful. But just getting pregnant won't be enough any more. That naive hope and excitement has been taken away. All I see right now is fear, angst, and maybe even anger and guilt. Anger that Korbin should be around to help us welcome his sibling into the world. And guilt that I'll be thinking of him less as I switch my thoughts and heart to praying and hoping our next child survives long enough to come home. But is that even enough? There are still things like SIDS, car accidents, pools to drown in, even cancer to rip your child away from you. When do you feel at peace and rest easy that your child will be okay?
And how do we keep remembering Korbin when we try again?
So many questions, and things to hope and pray for and reflect upon.
All I know any more is that I still got a lotta love to give.