Halloween

Halloween has long been my favorite holiday for decorating the house and getting dressed up (in costumes of course). I love zombies and witches and bats and lots of candles, carving pumpkins, and handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters.
This year I really out did myself (though still nothing crazy huge). I think it was mostly to keep myself focused on something I enjoy about this time of year instead of the nagging heaviness in my heart that is Korbin's absence.
I picked out our costumes, for our whole little family, when Ry and I were only just trying to get pregnant. It was only too perfect that we were having a boy, Korbin, as I wanted us to be Morticia, Gomez and Pubert Addams from the Addams' Family Values movie. As October started, I was reminded of how this was not going to happen, reminding me of just how broken my heart still is.
So what do I for now then? What's the point? As I told Ry when he expressed that it doesn't matter to him, the decorations and pumpkin carving and whatnot, I told him I have to have some sort of purpose right now. And doing all these artsy crafty things for the time of year is the only purpose I'm finding right now. I used to do it to start traditions for my new family.
Despite all my attempts, it's all empty. There are no children to do it for. And that's how all of the holidays will be this year. Empty, no matter how hard I try to keep busy. And tonight is no exception as I sit here alone watching scary movies while Ry is away for work and Korbin's gone forever, and only two trick-or-treaters total.
I don't know how to survive the holidays without Korbin, with the aching emptiness that's filled me now. He would have been the cutest stinkin' Pubert Addams, with the little mustache and mini tux. So freakin' adorable. But I have to keep doing and going, because I got a lotta love to give.

What do you do with those emails?

I'm in the business of making babies. It seems kind of sick and twisted in that I'm really not hopeful at all about pregnancy right now, yet that is what I have to give our patients. Hope.
With the emails, we check up on all of our patients to see how the pregnancy went and what the outcome was. We have to report all of this basic data, but the patients love to send newborn photos. I'd say there's maybe ten a week...and I delete them all. They all have the same title so I know which emails to not even open. It's just part of that bitterness that I'm not past yet.
And on that note, I am doing transfers now. Probably the most important part of the whole IVF process. And part of that is talking to the patients about being pregnant, and how next year this time they'll have their baby. I hate that part. Again, I don't feel the hope I am supposed to exude to them. I wish I could just tell them, 'here's the pic, they look great, okay let's do this and I'll leave' because that is how I feel on the inside.
We also talk with patients about what happens in the lab. I do enjoy discussing the science behind IVF with the patients, but I dread the day that a patient asks about my kids. While part of me feels more of a connection with the patients because many of them have dealt with a loss, even multiple losses, before. Yet many feel like we don't understand how they feel (which is true for the rest of my coworkers, save one of the docs). But really I do understand, and I don't want that to come about in a confrontational way. Trying to make a family is an emotional business. Boy do I know that part of it now.
As I did my first transfer (who got pregnant, yay for her), I was able to spit out things like 'be pregnant' and 'I'll be checking for that positive test in 10 days' and it hurt less inside than I thought it would. Dealing with the pain gets easier, even though the pain itself never lessens.
So I guess here's to hoping that there will be hope eventually, because I got a lotta love to give.

Noah Michele

Since losing Korbin I haven't held or even let myself get too close to my adorable nephew, Noah. This made me feel like an awful aunt at first, but my family quickly assured me he's too young to know or understand any of that. He is just a baby still, not even a year old.
Tonight I pushed myself just a titch and asked to hold him. It was quick, he's quite the mama's boy. But I was surprised at how much my heart didn't hurt. This whole time I've been guarding my heart, thinking holding other babies will make me wish I were holding Korbin, make me ache for him. But I always wish I were holding Korbin. That's always there, no matter if there's another baby present or I'm alone and on Pinterest. I just miss him.
What also surprised me was how much it warmed my heart to have some contact with Noah. Now, I'm not saying holding him and playing with him made me miss Korbin less, or even eased the pain I feel 24/7. But rather, there is a part of me that is still separate from Korbin. Maybe the part of my heart that's reserved for future kids? Family and friends? Although I am all consumed by the pain I feel from Korbin's loss, I still have Ryan, family, friends, that I love and enjoy. Maybe this is the next step, coming down from the bitter anger and jealousy and being able to open up other parts of my heart to love others like I did before.
The hole will always be there, but I still have the rest of my heart full of love, and I got a lotta love to give.

Aren't you excited?!?

Nope, at least, not any more.
Before losing Korbin I was so freaking excited about life I could hardly stand it. Now that's gone.
I used to be the one who would get excited over the tiniest of things: getting mail (even bills!), having dinner with friends, seeing Ry after work, then getting pregnant, and then dreaming of life with Korbin. Life had always been so full of things to be excited about.
Then Korbin came too soon and was gone before we even had time to realize what had happened. All of that mounting excitement ripped from us, stolen by fate.
I can remember asking Ryan at the end of June if he was excited about something with work. He said 'no' kind of like 'um, duh I'm not excited.' Of course, as soon as the words had left my mouth I knew it was a dumb question. I'm not excited about anything any more, why should Ryan be?
Now it feels like there's nothing to be excited about in life. It all feels like 'ya, whatever, whoopty do.'
Except I think I felt a twinge of excitement last Tuesday as I thought about my upcoming trip to CO to see my mom and Joe. We had so much to look forward to, but there was that fleeting moment of a flutter in my stomachs of excitement.
But besides that, all I seem to have is just things to look forward to. I'm trying to remember I still have Ry, family, friends. Plans and good things happening career-wise. And yet it's all just kind of there. I feel mostly lost still, and I'd be completely lost if it weren't for Ry and his pushing me to keep going.
I guess that's all I can expect still, to simply keep going right now, because I got a lotta love to give.

More dreams

Last night I dreamed of Korbin, the second dream I've had of him now since we lost him.
It was peaceful, just a day in the life with my baby boy. He was walking now, and nothing else mattered in the world. I had left the car unlocked and the doors were open, but Korbin was safe with me and I was happy. We were a family.
I try to imagine him all the time. What would we be doing now? I know what he looks like, but how would he grow? Would he be a full sized baby now? Or still small and struggling for life like so many premies do for the first year of life.
As I travel down that road of questions, I realize what a scary thought process it is. It's like I didn't have him, because there aren't any memories or knowledge of how he would have grown or looked now. How his development would be. There is so much I didn't get with him. That I'll never get.
It scares me to wonder because I did have him. He did happen, just not how I had hoped and dreamed. He should still be here, taking up every minute of my day so I'm exhausted each night. And yet I have to realize, however painful it is, that he's not here. He'll never be here. But, because of him, I got a lotta love to give.

TV Shows

I swear, someone is pregnant in all of our favorite TV shows. Pregnancy is everywhere!! Even commercials with the I-want-a-baby-now-I-get-one-because-the-test-is-positive crap. Ya, I'm still bitter. But I'm bitter because I've tasted reality now. Not every positive equals a baby. And it makes me sad that I think that way too. Losing Korbin has essentially stolen my hope. Maybe it will someday return, just not right now.
On that note, and here is a spoiler alert if you are watching Walking Dead but haven't seen the third season opener yet, I had forgotten Lori was pregnant and there she appeared with her big belly. One, it looked too fake to be passable as a baby belly. And two, when she said she thought she lost the baby and asked whether it could be a zombie now since they are all infected...I chuckled. Part of me was like, good, someone else losing a baby. This totally plays into how isolated I feel amongst friends, family, even coworkers, now that I have lost a baby. Only those in my support group know in a way how I feel every day. Understand that this is my new normal. While some friends don't get and don't seem to want to get it either.
I have friends who announce they are trying, then show the positive test to the world. And it makes me bitter, even to a point of wishing awful things for them just so that they know the reality that I know. Why does it have to be so easy for some, and so incredibly scary and difficult for others?
I hope the bitterness goes away soon, because deep down I got a lotta love to give.

October 15th

Tonight we lit a candle in Korbin's memory, and one for all those who know the loss of a baby, full term or not. In 1988, president Reagan declared October Pregnancy and infant loss awareness month.
This is silly but, finding this out, I felt kind of bad as I had been thinking to myself that all the celebrities and famous and rich getting pregnant are so lucky. They have loads of money and don't have to work every day so they can sit on their butts and do nothing until their baby is born, full term and healthy. And here, someone well known was actually bringing attention to this life-changing event that many live through, sometimes completely unbeknownst to everyone around them.
Still, I feel jealous of celebrities because the rest of us work too hard, and sometimes that contributes to early labor. I often wonder if that's why I went into labor. A bit self-defeating, but I can't help it.
I guess that's something I need to work on, because I got a lotta love to give.