Friday, August 23, 2013
We get asked here and there when baby two can be expected. Now, we could get mad about being asked about something so personal, but we know that those asking care about us, and just want to see us actually being the parents we wish we were.
I wish it were something we could just jump into with excitement and without care like the first time around. Not that one ever decides to try to start a family without thinking loads of things through first. But, now there is so much more to consider. Instead of just, can we afford this? Can we handle how life will change? Are we ready for no sleep and exhaustion? Now we also wonder, how long till we actually have a family with us here on Earth? Are we ready to go through such a devastating loss again? Can we handle chancing that? There's no guarantee that we'll get to have any of our future children with us, can we risk putting our hearts and our relationship on the line like that?
The excitement is gone, and if anything could replace that, I think it may be desperation. Time keeps passing and Korbin's gone and I still get comments from random parents that, you know, I know what things are like because I'm a parent. Ya, it's great to be recognized. But no, I actually have no clue what it's like to parent a child. I wish I knew, desperately really.
I do appreciate others expressing their excitement for us and the possibilities the future may hold for us. It's amazing support that we need. Especially since we're sometimes lacking in the excitement department. They definitely remind me, when sometimes I've forgotten, that I got a lotta love to give.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Major events in life tend to pull a person into action for a cause. Whether it is fundraising for cancer research, becoming a facilitator in a support group, or just trying to spread awareness to the unsuspecting, people suddenly can feel the need to do something more for those around them who may be affected by the same type of life event.
For me, it used to be breast cancer research. I found a lump in my left breast when I was 19 and had to have it removed and then biopsied. The lump was just a benign fibroid, typical in young women. But it was larger than average and the scariest thing I had gone through at that point in my life. I raised a lot of money for breast cancer research, even did the Breast Cancer 3-Day one year, but then switched my efforts to general cancer research and awareness after my aunt died rather suddenly of ovarian cancer. Why should one type of cancer get all the attention when people die of so many different types?
Now I feel such a pull toward the small percentage of parents like me. So what can I do? I'm still too early in my grief journey to offer support as a facilitator or start a support group. Can I spread awareness? How do I do that without scaring new parents into worrying constantly, possibly for no reason?
For example, one couple I met a few months ago just shared they were pregnant, and then proceeded to tell the couple next to them with a new puppy that, so what if they got a dog, they got a kid! They're winning! Only 3mo pregnant. I wanted to yell at them to never ever make a comment like that because they don't know the other couples' history. And only 3mo along...so mucj can go wrong.... What if the other couple had tried? What if they've had repeated miscarriages? What if they can't have kids of their own? Obviously this couple didn't know our back story. And I didn't say anything. I just tuned them out. I didn't want to freak them out when they potentially have nothing to worry about.
And really, I just want to warn people that, even though our society says that when you're pregnant you're for sure bringing a baby home, it doesn't always happen that way. I want to tell them my story. But I want them to take it as a caution that just because you're young and healthy, that doesn't mean your pregnancy will be fine and you can be hands-off about your care. That any little thing you notice is a big deal and should be discussed and checked by a physician. But then do I need to get OBs involved and on board? How the heck do I do something like that? Even at my work we treat pregnancy as, 'yay! You're taking a baby home!' We're definitely trying to be hopeful, but does that ever cross over into being unrealistic?
When i was pregnant, I glossed over the bad things that can happen in pregnancy books with the thought that of course that could never happen to me. I've denied the extra testing because I'm young so why would I need to worry about that? Nothing was impressed upon me by nurses or physicians or people I know who've been pregnant that I needed to worry about, or that anything I experienced was a problem. I think mostly because I'm young and healthy and therefore everything will be fine.
Unfortunately that was not the case for me. Nor does it seem to have been the case for most in my support group. We all seem to report a healthy pregnancy with no real issues. Nothing to worry about and therefore the loss came as such an incredible shock. That's not the case for all losses. Some are definitely due to real health or genetic issues that can only maybe be helped with lots of monitoring. Those losses are still devastating. They are all devastating.
Can we prevent a loss like mine from happening when the young and healthy have such a hands-off attitude?
I know, way too many questions and not a lot of answers! But this is something I think about often. And wonder what I can do about it, and how I can put that into action.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
When people get close I typically see harmless and playful teasing. I do it too, and don't think twice about it because to me, teasing means I know about whatever it is I tease about and I get it. Yet somehow this usual teasing turned out offensive to another who ended up lashing out against Ryan, and we all haven't spoken since.
What really sucks is this came from Korbin's godfather. Someone we have considered family, and that's partly why we wanted him to be someone so meaningful to us and to Korbin. The comment that stabbed me in the heart was: my family, not yours.
Being that this was over texts, I don't know if this too was jokingly or serious, but he also called Ryan a dick, which isn't very teasing in my opinion. So I'm pretty sure it was all serious from him. And I just don't even know what to say to him now because he's just as guilty of this harmless teasing, and we've never lashed out against him for it. I think I'm still in shock by the reaction he had and what he said, as well as disappointed that I thought I could trust this person with so much, with remembering Korbin. And I trusted that he thought of us as family too, but then he basically pointed out that we really don't mean that much to him, which was a serious slap in the face.
At this point I feel I've lost a dear friend, a family member even. Someone who I thought got us, has known us way better than so many others and stuck by us so steadfastly through all of our ups and downs.
I know I'm overly sensitive to pretty much anything and everything, but this has just really bothered me and I can't shake it. I mean, are we bad friends for the teasing, even though it's always been reciprocated? Do we need him to apologize for what he said to move forward? Do we need to apologize to him for touching on a nerve that we'd never known was there in the first place? Is that how people should react when a nerve is touched? What is an appropriate reaction then, if not?
I know friendships come and go, but I thought the people you considered family were supposed to be there forever.
I guess we'll see. I know I don't want to lose a friend or family member, I've lost too much in life already.
Despite that, I got a lotta love to give.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
The other day I had a fantastic conversation about grief (the chat where I heard the phrase, 'make room at the table'). It honestly was really nice to just talk about grief in general. There was no mention of Korbin, and that wasn't a bad thing. Not that I don't think about him, because I do constantly. He is always with me. Even today I cried a few times thinking of him, and how excited I was to be having my baby boy. I was over the moon, on top of the world. Life was so perfect and I could not have been any happier. I wonder if I'll ever get to raise a boy, and if I do will I be okay even though he isn't Korbin. I still have so much to work through and grieve.
Back to this talk: it really stuck out to me as, for whatever reason, as of late I have not wanted to be asked about my kids or if I have kids or how I'm actually doing. It honestly just hurt too much to get into, too much to put into words actually. I was really struggling.
Now I think I'm doing better. The ache in my heart is constant, as is the hole that Korbin's presence once filled, but I am accepting it and learning how to live with it. I can talk about my pregnancy, because I was pregnant and I loved every second of it (despite the nausea that never went away). I've made a place at the table for my pain, my grief, for loss, and for Korbin. And I need to give them their time. I may not be able to talk about Korbin specifically at times, but I can talk about my grief, or even about dealing with grief. Maybe through talking about that, the pain associated with talking about Korbin will lessen and I'll be able to talk about him too. Which would be good because sometimes my heart is hurting so much I think it might explode and talking about it may keep that from happening (hopefully).
I got a lotta love to give.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Tonight I'm headed to support group, otherwise known as the DBC, the Dead Baby Club. We don't call ourselves that all the time, just when we're joking around a bit. I'm not talking about a funny-haha joke, but a bitter joke's-on-me-actually type of joke.
And honestly, I think it is the total embodiment of my group. It captures the rawness of our emotions and who we all are now; childless parents grieving and trying to survive in a society that doesn't acknowledge the fact that my baby died or that I'm still (and probably forever) grieving. The DBC is in-your-face real when most other names like support group are sort of hush hush.
Once a month I meet with others like myself, though all our stories are very different, and we sympathize and empathize with each other like no one else we know outside the DBC can. Some if these people will become very near and dear friends as we support each other in our efforts to keep living life and trying to have hope for a brighter future. And I sincerely hope I can there for them as they are for me in our times of need.
I got a lotta love to give.