The Long End of a Hard Road

(Disclaimer:  For those of you who are mutual friends of both me and my husband, I would prefer if you would not comment on specific details found on my blog to him.  This blog is for me, and it invades his privacy to comment on something I’ve written.  You can of course, offer him condolences as well.)

So we lost the baby on Tuesday.  Well, at least Tuesday was the day he was born.  They started the induction on Monday when we saw there was no heartbeat.  I have read now so many stories of other couples, and often they could tell something was wrong because they couldn’t feel the baby kick, but it wasn’t like that for me.  I hadn’t felt a definite kick yet.  Maybe it was there and so subtle I didn’t notice, I don’t know.

I got to wear seaweed tampons for awhile to help dilate the cervix, and then later I got little hormone pills inserted as well.  Monday night passed relatively quickly, I had cramping but not on the scale of contractions.  I fall asleep easily, so it didn’t bother me to have nurses in every couple of hours to take my vital signs.  At 4 am they started coming harder, but then they tapered off again.

Finally, at 9:30 am or so, they started hard again.  I guess I was hoping the pain wouldn’t be too bad, but it really hurt.  It hurt just as much as it had with Rowan.  They gave me a little button I could push every 10 minutes, and I counted down those minutes every time until I could push it again.

But he was so small at the end, it only took one push.  Leif was the first one to hold him, even before they cleaned him up.   I was sadly, still a bit out of it from the medication.   We had the the chaplain baptize him in the room.  We named him Bram Thomas.  He was 12.2 oz (344 grams for you metric people) and 10.5 inches long.  Bram is Gaelic for bramble or a thicket–it is also associated with the raven.  Thomas is actually a Dr. Who reference, though you would probably have to have seen them all multiple times like I have to track down that character.  And we are talking old-school Who here, not this David Tennant guy.  (Acutally, I do love Tennant)

Words cannot express the kindness of the hospital staff there.  They were so amazing, so compassionate.  And it’s weird to think they deal with this all the time.  Our hospital has 3 floors of maternity wards on the North Wing–when we got to our floor, I asked the nurse if this was the “special” floor.  She said yes, and that all the nurses who work there choose to do so.  (I also noticed what appeared to be a high incidence of lesbian/hippie/and other empowered women working that floor–it was awesome)  Occasionally during our stay I would hear a baby cry in one of the other rooms, and I wondered if those were the cases where the baby only lives a day or two.  I felt so bad for those parents, to get to nine months and go through all that for a few brief hours of life.

By late Tuesday evening, I wanted to see Rowan so badly, but when we went to pick her up, she was just having a blast and didn’t want go home.  That night, I missed the hospital so much, people checking up on me and so caring and compassionate to me, a total stranger that they knew nothing about.  I tried to write down as many names as I could so I can write and thank them later.  They gave us a memory box, took footprints and handprints, there is even a photographer that comes in and takes professional pictures for free.  Everywhere I go, I am surrounded by the generosity of strangers.

We wrapped him in one of Rowan’s blankies to be cremated in.  In some of the literature we received, it said some parents choose to put the ashes in a locket.  I guess it’s such a small body, once you take the water out, there’s hardly anything there.

I am personally glad Rowan is so young and doesn’t really understand.  A couple of weeks ago, when we knew what we were facing, we told her that she may not get a baby brother.  She said, “That’s okay.  We can try for a baby sister next time.”  Yeah, good luck kid.  I feel that if we have another, it would be a boy.  Last night when we told her for sure there was no baby, she looked at us with a strange expression.  I asked her, “Are you sad?  It’s okay to be sad, we are a little bit sad.”  And she rolled her eyes at us as only a 4 year old can and said, “No, I’m not sad.  I was just worried.”  I think she meant she was worried about us, which is really sweet.  Then she went back to cutting out princesses.

My days are okay.  I usually have one weepy period a day, and then I’m calmer.  Wednesday morning was bad, but the afternoon was fine.  Last night was bad, this morning I’m weepy too.  It comes and goes.  Other peoples’ babies do not bother me.  I went and saw Stacy Wednesday (she’s at home on maternity leave) and it’s fine.  I don’t want anyone else to have my experience, and I don’t begrudge her that it went well.   Her boy, Barret, is doing well and I held him for awhile.  He was so big compared to Bram.  I’m glad he will have a good life.


Today is Iain’s birthday, and I went to see him after class at his usual hangout.  He turns 30 today, and it is his last smoking day.  He quits tomorrow.  I am glad I enjoy his company so much–the more I find out about people, the more I see that every family is different.  Being related by blood does not  necessarily mean one is family.  Sometimes the family we choose has far more impact, but I am glad he is my brother.

I was feeling a little down today as the day started out.  Well, for one thing I tossed my cookies after breakfast and ended up so jittery and wobbly I was amazed I made it to work.  And the rest of the day I felt slightly nauseous.  Stupid really, I ignored one of my triggers and paid the price, ugh.

And the other thing is that I’ve had to put my practice time with my dance troupe on hold.  I have too many things going and a couple of issues that won’t be resolved for another few weeks or so.  I just couldn’t give it my all, so I had to bow out of performing at Triangle Fest.  After regular practice, I left when I would have normally gone to the troupe practice immediately afterward.  😦  I know I made the right decision for right now, but I feel horribly guilty.  It just seems like I do this all the time–two steps forward, one step back.  Progress in never linear for me.

But I was glad to see Iain in good spirits (ha, bad pun) and his friends are pretty nice.  And I was approached about making some kilts at some point.  I haven’t done a sewing project for someone else for awhile, I might be able to take another one on–with breaks for pregnancy, of course.  I was flattered.

And another nice thing is that one of my favorite fan fiction writers has continued her story which is really, really good.  I love a good story, especially one with a favorite anime character of mine, whom I’ve been lusting after since I was 9 or so.  Yeah, I am that geeky.   Hey, I can’t be cool all the time!

Upgrade your pants

So today I had to break out the maternity pants.  Luckily, my olds ones still fit so that’s good.  But my shirts are all long sleeve, so I had to go out and buy some short sleeved tops.  I made it to 15 weeks, can’t remember what it was the first time.  What’s funny is that my work has this exercise/weight/fitness planner where you can put in your daily food log, cardio log, etc.  I do my weight and my cardio, mainly because it’s easy to remember.  Well, I’ve gained *gasp* five pounds, so now the stupid thing give me a warning that I am off my “goal” weight by +5 lbs.  It’s going to be a lot more than than by the time I’m through.


So I’ve found that some people actually do read my blog, and a couple mentioned that I haven’t posted in awhile.  That’s because I’m usually pretty pissy these days.  Usually in the morning I’m pretty bad and around 2:30 pm or so I cheer up.  Or get sad, but in any case I’m not as angry.  Don’t take it seriously, (I’m not), its just a phase.

Plus, I’ve had a few moral dilemmas come my way.  Well, actually two.  It’s sort of felt like a bit of a testing lately.  I wish I could get into it more, but part of it actually stemmed from this blog and I don’t really feel like stirring crap up. Mainly because right now I’d probably start a fight and I know that’s really not the best thing to do.  But sadly, I have had to face some disappointment in people.  We all like to think we get along with our friends, that on this journey of life we kind of all are going in the same direction.  It is sad to see paths diverge.  It is sad sometimes to see someone clearly.  There’s a line between a person with flaws and a flawed person, but it’s a very real distinction.

Of course, I’m feeling pretty flawed these days too.  It is really hard to change yourself.  I get older every year, and still no better.  I still worry about providing enough for my family, hate that I can’t for the love of god keep a clean house, hate that I still lose things.  Will I ever come close to the person I want so desperately to be?  Although perhaps I should feel fortunate that I worry about such things.  I used to care much more about finding love, finding friends–now that I have them my mind turns to other things I guess.

As much as sometimes I am disappointed in people, I am usually far more grateful to the wonderful people who have graced my life.  A week or two ago, my friend Amy was in town.  A bunch of us went to dinner, and yet I could not be happy.  There was this great sadness in me, not at all pertinent to the situation, and I excused myself after dinner.  On the way home, I called Stacy and she told me to come over.  There is something so accepting about good friends.  We spent the evening talking and it felt so good to belong.  Everywhere I go, I meet beautiful people.  Most of them look pretty normal on the outside, but there is such richness on the inside.  I wish I could tell their stories.

Well, now I’m sad and sentimental.  That’s the great thing about hormones, you never know what you’re gonna get.