I mentioned yesterday that I took the kiddos to their favorite park while enjoying a break from the sweltering summer heat and humidity that usually grips the northeast. I have taken the children there multiple times; I know where I am going. The previous statements are important because on any given day, I could get lost in a traffic circle on foot or perhaps be unable to drive myself out of a paper bag. I promise you though, I knew where I was going for this field trip. I was calm, cool and prepared for the jaunt.
I quickly looked up the address in previous destinations on the old GPS, hit go, and boom, we were off and running! Traffic was good, I was pleased, and glanced down at the GPS before the split between hither and yon. For some odd reason, it told me to go to the left and head toward hither. I really had in my head to go in the direction of yon, but hey, like I said before, no sense of direction, so the GPS was right. I went toward hither, feeling odd, but hey, I was going to be okay. I just must have forgotten how to get there. It had been a while.
The first clue should have been when the arrows had me going through parts of the big city, which confused my children because they really just wanted to go to the park and wanted to know WHY we were in the city. Pshaw, I assured them this was just a new way to get there. Meanwhile, my inside thoughts were screaming, "WTF have I done? This is SOOOO not the right way!!!!" I continued to follow the arrows, incorrectly at times, thus causing us to drive in a more circuitous route than what might have been in the beginning. Great, just great, was my mantra.
I had to make a couple of left turns, a few right, and head through neighborhoods where I will NEVER live in a thousand years. Not because I was in the projects, but the million dollar homes instead. It might have been that during my gawking while driving, I might have missed a few more turns, but hey, I was enjoying the scenery. My children were not and were starting to demand to know when we would arrive.
About this time, while at a red light, I decided to text Dear, knowing he would get a kick out of where I had been. See, Dear used to courier through the city and knows it like the back of his hand. It might be aptly described as Dear being the antithesis of me. For example, when I was lost inside the traffic circle, and could not find my way out of it, Dear was my go to guy. The squeals of joy when I actually recognized the landmarks as he helped me walk out of the circle was like nothing you've ever heard. So, I texted saying in my next life I would stand in line twice for that sense of direction gift. His response was "Where did you get lost now?" I explained that I had been through MacArthur Blvd. to get to the park. He replied "OMG!" I think it was like the traffic circle all over again, just with laughter, instead of frantic tears.
Finally, as we crested the hill, the sign appeared on the left, and we all cheered. Peanut exclaimed, "Good by houses, HELLLOOO park!!!!" Going home was so much better three hours later. I didn't even turn on the GPS. Thanks, Dear, for laughing with me on my latest adventure, and probably at me, since I got so lost, as only I can....
xoxoxoxo
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Tangible
In a life that is mostly immediate gratification, pregnancy is one of the greatest remaining events that cannot be rushed. From the first ultra sound, to the 20 week, possibly gender revealing, then follow up ultra sounds if necessary, all culminating in the greatly anticipated birth. It is guaranteed to take between 37 and 40 weeks. I have been graced with two such wonderful events and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rush them. I adore them to the moon and back.
Today I had an appointment with my counselor, whom I've seen for many, many moons. As I was leaving, I realized I wanted to bring the ultrasound pictures I had. That meant going back inside. As I exited, I was able to intercept Peanut, who decided that she didn't want me to go without her, and was going to chase the van. I picked her up, carried her inside, to deposit her with Dear, and grab the pictures. I grabbed pictures and attempted to put her down, but really kind of did the drop and run maneuver. Dear then asked why I had come back in to grab them. I couldn't really answer him because I (a) didn't have an answer prepared and (b) I had a screaming Peanut in my ear. I thought about it though as I drove and I knew why I had them. I had them because to me those pictures are the only shred of physical evidence I have of the pregnancy. I was also going to tell my counselor the story for the first time and I wanted her to see that I wasn't full of shit, not that she would've thought that ever. I think I felt insecure. I wanted the physical evidence, something in my hand, that could validate my mood swings, my tears, my confusion, and the steps towards being more positive.
When I returned home, Dear and I chatted for a moment about the pictures. He didn't see them as serving a purpose to verify everything that has happened. We both know it happened. We were both there. We know there isn't anything left. He sees it as something that happened that was out of our control. There wasn't anything we could have done to prevent it, so why hold on to a painful reminder of the past (was my perception). Dear also shared that it wasn't something tangible that had been taken from us, like one of the two children we already have, were to be taken away. I had felt it move, I had heard the heart beat, I had been far more invested physically and emotionally. I never really looked at the chain of events from his perspective, being wrapped up in my own craziness. It was so good to listen to him and learn. I wish by listening it could have made the swelling in my eyes go down...lol.
Another positive in the tangible column, the weather has been amazing the last two days. I took the opportunity to take the kiddos to their favorite park. We had a blast. It was so great to see them smile, run, jump, climb, and attempt new things and succeed. I'm so glad these two are in my life.
Although my journey is far from over, there are tangible events that make it feel more positive. There will be ebbs and flows, so please, dont' give up hope on me as I work through it. I see the doctor tomorrow so perhaps there will be more answers there in the results of the genetic testing. If not, I know Dear is here by my side, as well as our two darling children, and we'll come through it on the other side.
Today I had an appointment with my counselor, whom I've seen for many, many moons. As I was leaving, I realized I wanted to bring the ultrasound pictures I had. That meant going back inside. As I exited, I was able to intercept Peanut, who decided that she didn't want me to go without her, and was going to chase the van. I picked her up, carried her inside, to deposit her with Dear, and grab the pictures. I grabbed pictures and attempted to put her down, but really kind of did the drop and run maneuver. Dear then asked why I had come back in to grab them. I couldn't really answer him because I (a) didn't have an answer prepared and (b) I had a screaming Peanut in my ear. I thought about it though as I drove and I knew why I had them. I had them because to me those pictures are the only shred of physical evidence I have of the pregnancy. I was also going to tell my counselor the story for the first time and I wanted her to see that I wasn't full of shit, not that she would've thought that ever. I think I felt insecure. I wanted the physical evidence, something in my hand, that could validate my mood swings, my tears, my confusion, and the steps towards being more positive.
When I returned home, Dear and I chatted for a moment about the pictures. He didn't see them as serving a purpose to verify everything that has happened. We both know it happened. We were both there. We know there isn't anything left. He sees it as something that happened that was out of our control. There wasn't anything we could have done to prevent it, so why hold on to a painful reminder of the past (was my perception). Dear also shared that it wasn't something tangible that had been taken from us, like one of the two children we already have, were to be taken away. I had felt it move, I had heard the heart beat, I had been far more invested physically and emotionally. I never really looked at the chain of events from his perspective, being wrapped up in my own craziness. It was so good to listen to him and learn. I wish by listening it could have made the swelling in my eyes go down...lol.
Another positive in the tangible column, the weather has been amazing the last two days. I took the opportunity to take the kiddos to their favorite park. We had a blast. It was so great to see them smile, run, jump, climb, and attempt new things and succeed. I'm so glad these two are in my life.
Although my journey is far from over, there are tangible events that make it feel more positive. There will be ebbs and flows, so please, dont' give up hope on me as I work through it. I see the doctor tomorrow so perhaps there will be more answers there in the results of the genetic testing. If not, I know Dear is here by my side, as well as our two darling children, and we'll come through it on the other side.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Success
The surprise party, that I almost slipped about in my post yesterday, was quite possibly one of the most enjoyable events ever! Dear's cousin came over to watch the kiddos for us so we could attend a surprise 40th birthday party in Leesburg. Dear coordinated the carpooling, so even the ride there and back was full of giggles, joy and super conversation. I must congratulate Alison on such a well thought out party! If I ever had to plan a party, she'd be my go to gal, that is for darn sure.
The venue: Travinia, a lovely Italian restaurant, which I had never been to before but had heard of because there is one close by to our house.
The directions: Alison wanted everyone there by 6:45 to ensure there wouldn't be any sightings to tip off her husband about the party. The party was to begin promptly with their arrival at 7 pm.
Our plan was to meet the expectations and arrive on time. Given that I tend to flap my gums incessantly, I made us leave our house a smidgen late, which put us over at the bff's house tardy, nothing new to Dear, but frustrating I'm sure ;0) Our compadres got in the van and off we went! A night out, no children anywhere in sight, not even a car seat since we took them out so we could all car pool together. There might have been butterflies of excitement at this moment, or maybe it was the anticipation of trying to beat the clock since I made us late. Dear drove like a champ, getting there in record time, even finding a parking space very close, while the remaining 4 of us attempted to leap out of the car while he was parking.
The surprise was a sight to behold. The honoree had NO clue, walking into the room, and was even speechless for a moment! It was great! They had two drinks in his honor, "The Vinnie" and "The Lamborghini", followed by a 5 course dining experience. I offered to take home any of the smoked Gouda macaroni and cheese with pancetta, it was that tasty. I wanted to lick my plate. The salad course followed, then the pasta, the meats, and finally dessert: apple crostini and tiramisu. I wanted to keep a platter of the tiramisu for myself, but the apple crostini wasn't too bad either ;0) The party transitioned outside for cigars on the patio, with plenty of conversation and a wonderful end to the evening. I was so glad that we went. It was a joy to be there and celebrate with all of their friends.
Today brings another gathering and then it will be time to continue rediscovering my house beneath the dust and dog hair. I really want my Dyson vacuum back. I think that would make all the difference in the amount of times I would have to vacuum...lol!
xoxoxoxo
The venue: Travinia, a lovely Italian restaurant, which I had never been to before but had heard of because there is one close by to our house.
The directions: Alison wanted everyone there by 6:45 to ensure there wouldn't be any sightings to tip off her husband about the party. The party was to begin promptly with their arrival at 7 pm.
Our plan was to meet the expectations and arrive on time. Given that I tend to flap my gums incessantly, I made us leave our house a smidgen late, which put us over at the bff's house tardy, nothing new to Dear, but frustrating I'm sure ;0) Our compadres got in the van and off we went! A night out, no children anywhere in sight, not even a car seat since we took them out so we could all car pool together. There might have been butterflies of excitement at this moment, or maybe it was the anticipation of trying to beat the clock since I made us late. Dear drove like a champ, getting there in record time, even finding a parking space very close, while the remaining 4 of us attempted to leap out of the car while he was parking.
The surprise was a sight to behold. The honoree had NO clue, walking into the room, and was even speechless for a moment! It was great! They had two drinks in his honor, "The Vinnie" and "The Lamborghini", followed by a 5 course dining experience. I offered to take home any of the smoked Gouda macaroni and cheese with pancetta, it was that tasty. I wanted to lick my plate. The salad course followed, then the pasta, the meats, and finally dessert: apple crostini and tiramisu. I wanted to keep a platter of the tiramisu for myself, but the apple crostini wasn't too bad either ;0) The party transitioned outside for cigars on the patio, with plenty of conversation and a wonderful end to the evening. I was so glad that we went. It was a joy to be there and celebrate with all of their friends.
Today brings another gathering and then it will be time to continue rediscovering my house beneath the dust and dog hair. I really want my Dyson vacuum back. I think that would make all the difference in the amount of times I would have to vacuum...lol!
xoxoxoxo
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Bubble
Actually, I think I should have titled this post "Helicopter" because as I drove home from the beach yesterday and traffic sucked, I wished I could have just flown above it all, landing at home. It would have saved hearing "Moooom, Peanut looked at me funny!" or "Mom, C won't share the movies with me so I can pick which one I want next....". There were others that I might have blocked from my memory since they elicited the same response, "Work it out please, I'm trying to focus on the brake lights in front of me." Since a helicopter and landing pad weren't available for my use, after 6 arduous hours, the trip ended with a joyous arrival at home. Dear arrived shortly thereafter, which meant I was finally free of my two shadows, if but for a moment. I think I used that short break to actually pee all by myself.
While at the beach, I was in a bubble. I was able to begin to heal from the surgery and enjoy laughing with my darling children. I realized that discussing all of the events makes people uncertain for how they want to support Dear and me. I might have whined that my family members hadn't addressed it with me, but really, what was I thinking? What could I expect them to say? Did they have the magic wand to turn back the hands of time and erase the events? No, they surely didn't, but I think I was harboring thoughts that they might, which made the reality a huge let down. They offered what the could: love, kindness, support, and ears, even if they didn't know what to say. I am grateful for the support they gave and will continue to give me as time progresses.
Returning from the beach, there isn't a bubble in which to live. I must see my beloved friends, enjoy their company, and be the social butterfly I strive to be...lol! I fear this more than I can say. I fear seeing the sadness in their facial expressions, the hug that lasts just a little to long, the phrase "I hope you are doing okay" whispered in my ear, the gentle touch....all endearing but frightening at the same time. I fear I will appear aloof or standoffish, so I will work my very best to not be that way. I will smile, I will laugh, I will enjoy a night out with Dear, while his cousin watches the children. It just might feel awkward, but maybe only as awkward as I let feel. I have the strength to do this. Honestly, though I'm tying this as my husband is at a friend's daughter's birthday party, because I couldn't see people yet. I didn't have the strength to face it just yet. I will though.
Time stands still for no one, which means I have laundry to do, beds to remake and a house that has been in the care of Dear for a week.
xoxoxoxo
While at the beach, I was in a bubble. I was able to begin to heal from the surgery and enjoy laughing with my darling children. I realized that discussing all of the events makes people uncertain for how they want to support Dear and me. I might have whined that my family members hadn't addressed it with me, but really, what was I thinking? What could I expect them to say? Did they have the magic wand to turn back the hands of time and erase the events? No, they surely didn't, but I think I was harboring thoughts that they might, which made the reality a huge let down. They offered what the could: love, kindness, support, and ears, even if they didn't know what to say. I am grateful for the support they gave and will continue to give me as time progresses.
Returning from the beach, there isn't a bubble in which to live. I must see my beloved friends, enjoy their company, and be the social butterfly I strive to be...lol! I fear this more than I can say. I fear seeing the sadness in their facial expressions, the hug that lasts just a little to long, the phrase "I hope you are doing okay" whispered in my ear, the gentle touch....all endearing but frightening at the same time. I fear I will appear aloof or standoffish, so I will work my very best to not be that way. I will smile, I will laugh, I will enjoy a night out with Dear, while his cousin watches the children. It just might feel awkward, but maybe only as awkward as I let feel. I have the strength to do this. Honestly, though I'm tying this as my husband is at a friend's daughter's birthday party, because I couldn't see people yet. I didn't have the strength to face it just yet. I will though.
Time stands still for no one, which means I have laundry to do, beds to remake and a house that has been in the care of Dear for a week.
xoxoxoxo
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Sun, Sun....Mr. Golden Sun......
Yesterday was the perfect day for spending at the beach, which my children did for about 5 hours. My sister and brother in law took them down ahead of when I was ready, allowing me to read a chapter or 5. The sun was shining gloriously, filling my soul with joy. I sauntered down to the beach about 2 hours after the gang, inspiring my children to accost me as soon as my feet hit the sand. I set up shop, plopped down in the chair, only to be summoned to the waves by Peanut. I requested just a moment to get settled, all the while watching.
Until my son was was 4, he refused to touch sand or grass with his hands or feet. How many children do you know that will sit on a beach towel for their first birthday because they refuse to touch the grass? Yes, that was MY son. The progress that has been made in the last 3 years, since his first successful attempt at touching sand, never fails to amaze me. He now runs through the sand, dashing into the ocean, jumping over waves, relishing the cooling effects of the ocean. Yesterday he was ducking under the waved, jumping into them as the began to break closer to him, swimming around with his face in the water, and following my brother in law out into deeper parts. His smile was plastered across his face the entire time I was there, and before I am sure. I am so glad he loves the beach.
Peanut has always embraced the sand. It seems to be that the beach is part of her soul. She has failed to shown any trepidation toward approaching the ocean or pool. Yesterday high tide had come earlier in the morning, leaving tidal pools, or puddles as she called them. She wanted nothing more than to run through every single tidal pool that she could see from our seats. It was great, I must say. I was reluctant to walk with her, but given that she is persistent, I took the opportunity to enjoy being with her. The water was quite warm, almost hot, but didn't bother her at all. Eventually she picked a large one, close enough to me, and played in it for the remainder of our time at the beach. She floated, ran, dove, splashed, and relished her time in the puddle. Her brother joined her intermittently, but it was all about her in that moment.
Tomorrow will be the wretched drive home. I'm ready to be with Dear. Vacationing with my parents is always an exercise in patience and medication endurance...lol!
L
Until my son was was 4, he refused to touch sand or grass with his hands or feet. How many children do you know that will sit on a beach towel for their first birthday because they refuse to touch the grass? Yes, that was MY son. The progress that has been made in the last 3 years, since his first successful attempt at touching sand, never fails to amaze me. He now runs through the sand, dashing into the ocean, jumping over waves, relishing the cooling effects of the ocean. Yesterday he was ducking under the waved, jumping into them as the began to break closer to him, swimming around with his face in the water, and following my brother in law out into deeper parts. His smile was plastered across his face the entire time I was there, and before I am sure. I am so glad he loves the beach.
Peanut has always embraced the sand. It seems to be that the beach is part of her soul. She has failed to shown any trepidation toward approaching the ocean or pool. Yesterday high tide had come earlier in the morning, leaving tidal pools, or puddles as she called them. She wanted nothing more than to run through every single tidal pool that she could see from our seats. It was great, I must say. I was reluctant to walk with her, but given that she is persistent, I took the opportunity to enjoy being with her. The water was quite warm, almost hot, but didn't bother her at all. Eventually she picked a large one, close enough to me, and played in it for the remainder of our time at the beach. She floated, ran, dove, splashed, and relished her time in the puddle. Her brother joined her intermittently, but it was all about her in that moment.
Tomorrow will be the wretched drive home. I'm ready to be with Dear. Vacationing with my parents is always an exercise in patience and medication endurance...lol!
L
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Gratitude
Gratitude: the state of being grateful; Grateful:showing appreciation, being thankful
These two adjectives aptly describe my feelings yesterday as I read all of the comments from friends, near and far, after my novella. Hearing from so many about their own personal struggles has helped me know I am not alone in my grieving and will learn to have the strength to come out on the other side of this a stronger woman.
There is but one question that remains. At what point do you, hmmmm, cut your losses, so to speak, and stop trying. If the decision is made to move forward, will the empty place felt by previous losses heal? Will the family feel complete? If you try again, when does the fear release from your heart? I sense that it if there is another attempt, it might be in the delivery room that all is finally put to ease.
At the beach life is relaxing and an excellent change of venue. My darling children are wound up tighter than tops about going to the beach each morning. Yesterday was not what they had in mind since the beach house lost power for no explainable reason, which made cooking and or going into a fridge to pack for a beach trip not feasible. Down into town was the best option, so we stopped for lunch then made it to the outlet mall. I usually enjoy going to the outlet malls. There is a Polo, a Gymboree, and some outdoor space. I neglected to consider how fast I shop with 2 children in tow versus the other 4 adults, who like to stroll, window shop, waltz into a store, meander through the aisle.........while I create bald spots in my head trying to keep my kiddos out of the rounders and from sprinting up and down the same ailes my family members are strolling through. I bribed them with bubbles and pajamas from Gymboree, which was a great idea, but failed to sustain attention. As I power walked with them to another store, harketh, there was a clown making balloon animals. It was as if the Gods had heard my cries for help and provided a solution. That lasted for about 10 minutes. The Peanut decided to abscond with her brother's sword, which brought about WHINING from him, which made me sound JUST like my mother: "I WILL take you to the car if you don't stop RIGHT NOW. Am I CLEAR?!" At the conclusion of the trip, I strapped them into their seats, turned on a movie, and hit the road in my minivan like I stole it. It was time to let them run free, and not at an outlet mall.
Power has been my friend this morning, but it's beach it time. I need them to be outside, running wild and free, not in my hair. I love them. I just need a breather. My sister and BIL have offered to take them to the beach for a moment, so I can be alone. I accepted their offer with great joy. I have a book that is crying to be opened and read.
These two adjectives aptly describe my feelings yesterday as I read all of the comments from friends, near and far, after my novella. Hearing from so many about their own personal struggles has helped me know I am not alone in my grieving and will learn to have the strength to come out on the other side of this a stronger woman.
There is but one question that remains. At what point do you, hmmmm, cut your losses, so to speak, and stop trying. If the decision is made to move forward, will the empty place felt by previous losses heal? Will the family feel complete? If you try again, when does the fear release from your heart? I sense that it if there is another attempt, it might be in the delivery room that all is finally put to ease.
At the beach life is relaxing and an excellent change of venue. My darling children are wound up tighter than tops about going to the beach each morning. Yesterday was not what they had in mind since the beach house lost power for no explainable reason, which made cooking and or going into a fridge to pack for a beach trip not feasible. Down into town was the best option, so we stopped for lunch then made it to the outlet mall. I usually enjoy going to the outlet malls. There is a Polo, a Gymboree, and some outdoor space. I neglected to consider how fast I shop with 2 children in tow versus the other 4 adults, who like to stroll, window shop, waltz into a store, meander through the aisle.........while I create bald spots in my head trying to keep my kiddos out of the rounders and from sprinting up and down the same ailes my family members are strolling through. I bribed them with bubbles and pajamas from Gymboree, which was a great idea, but failed to sustain attention. As I power walked with them to another store, harketh, there was a clown making balloon animals. It was as if the Gods had heard my cries for help and provided a solution. That lasted for about 10 minutes. The Peanut decided to abscond with her brother's sword, which brought about WHINING from him, which made me sound JUST like my mother: "I WILL take you to the car if you don't stop RIGHT NOW. Am I CLEAR?!" At the conclusion of the trip, I strapped them into their seats, turned on a movie, and hit the road in my minivan like I stole it. It was time to let them run free, and not at an outlet mall.
Power has been my friend this morning, but it's beach it time. I need them to be outside, running wild and free, not in my hair. I love them. I just need a breather. My sister and BIL have offered to take them to the beach for a moment, so I can be alone. I accepted their offer with great joy. I have a book that is crying to be opened and read.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
168 hours and counting, part II.......
So, the children and I piled into the car, kind of bouncing together as we bounded out the door. It was a sight to behold. After arriving, I checked in, providing the documentation, etc. The receptionist then questioned me about my appointment date because she didn't see me on the schedule. I had made a mistake, apparently, and my actual appointment was not until Wednesday. My face must have crumbled which prompted her to say she would ask if there was a way I could be seen. In the midst of all this, I was texting Dear, letting him know that I had arrived, where it was, and so forth. He assured me he was on his way. Just as I finished typing, the receptionist said there was a tech available and she would see me. Awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was thrilled, the children smiled, giggled and seemed to really rejoice in this adventure. Just as I was called back, I told the receptionists that my husband was on his way and to please, please, please let him come back when he arrives.
The lights dimmed, the children settled, in the same chair, I was stretched out on the exam table, and the tech was ready. She had two toned hair, dark brown half underneath on the bottom, with a lovely blond on top. She appeared young, vibrant, and had an accent that hinted toward a Midwestern upbringing. She squirted my belly with the gel, the son asked what that stuff was, I explained, and the journey began. The tech kept the screen pointed toward herself, so I busied myself with explaining to the children what she was measuring. I asked if she could find the gender yet, but not so much. She said she hadn't gotten that far yet. I told her that the baby usually moved from side to side, so it might be hard to keep up with it. I asked if it was moving a lot. She just said that it wasn't so active.
She told me that she had to take some of the images to the radiologist, so I could go pee, as I was exceeding my bladder capacity, and the children had to go too. What's a 5 minute delay in the grand scheme of things? And where was Dear? Was he on the phone with his boss, AGAIN? I figured I'd find him in a moment. No worries I assured myself.
The 3 of us traipsed back to the room, the children running ahead of me, laughing, and trying to see if they could get behind me to catch a glimpse of my fanny. It was hilarious. We settled down, assuming our positions, waiting........waiting.........waiting............WHERE WAS DEAR?! I was starting to wonder by now. I had no new texts and a full signal. Bizarre.
Abruptly, the door opened, the ultrasound tech entered with a flustered air about her, ushered the children out, and then let the radiologist into the room. I knew. The pit settled, the fear gripped my heart, the tears sprang as if they had a life of their own, hot, burning tracks down the sides of my cheeks, but I held my breath. Maybe I was getting this all wrong. Dear....where was he? I'm alone....the tears continued to rain down, totally out of my control. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be happy. I wanted my children there, but why were they escorted out and what was the radiologist doing? Oh SHIT. Nope, I'm not afraid, he's just there to confirm the measurements. Breathe........................
A voice from entered my thoughts, interrupting my calming techniques, how rude....it seemed to really want me to listen. "Mrs. Welsh, after reviewing the pictures, this fetus does not have a heart beat, thus a demise of the fetus had occurred." My goodness, was Niagara Falls falling down my face? I felt like my hair was soaked from taking a shower or walking under the falls. What did he say again? Have you seen my Dear? This isn't really happening, is it? Wait, did he say if it was a boy or girl? Wait, did he say demise? Did he say no heart beat? Something about calling the doctor right now, why? I'm all good; I had a heart beat at 8 weeks, why is this such a big deal?
*****Oh, wait, now I remember, the radiologist said demise...I'm not pregnant anymore.........How did that happen? What the fuck is going on? How is this possible? It had a heart beat of 153 beats per minute just 4 weeks ago!!!!!! You have got to be fucking kidding me. Everything was supposed to be fine. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY DEAR?!?!?!?!?!************
Somewhere during this time, the children reappeared, Dear walked in; the children told him that he had missed everything; he deflated; I tried to reassure him that he didn't miss anything because there wasn't anything to see, apparently..........demise, surgery, doctor calling.....whirlwind.....pictures deleted....wait, I wanted the know what the gender was........oh, that wouldn't matter in a demise.....who had a demise? ME?! Oh, that's right, there wasn't a heart beat. I don't have a baby anymore. I had to go to another room with a phone, the nurse from the doctors office was talking, I wasn't listening; Dear was corralling the children in this closet size room; what? what is going on? The nurse said I had to come to the office right now. Who? Me...right....Dear, can you take the children? I have to go to the doctor for something. Let's just walk outside. Okay, we're good. I can't make a scene in the waiting room, so hold on, let me dry my tears, blow my nose again, and gather my thoughts.
The baby was gone. *RING*, shit, that's my phone. I don't need to go to the doctor's office. I must go tomorrow at 2:30 pm. What the fuck is going on? How the fuck am I going to swing this? Dear has to work. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Thank God for retired in-laws who are supportive, kind, generous and ask few questions. My MIL came, picked up the children, kept them overnight, with the help of my SIL, BIL, and FIL, it all went like clockwork. I sat at home, sobbed, drove the doctor, sobbed some more. Surgery was scheduled for the following morning at 8. There was no more baby. Everyone was so sorry in the office. I was so sorry too.
The fetus measured 15 weeks, 1 day. I should have been 19 weeks, 1 day. The fetus probably had died right after my last appointment. How could I not have realized? Are you sure that there is nothing left? Yes, unfortunately, the demise was confirmed. All of this happened about 168 hours ago, depending on when you started to count. I started on Monday, the 15th of July. That was when the reality began to have to be processed. It sucked. It still sucks. A small comforting fact is that after the procedure on Wednesday morning, my beloved doctor relayed to Dear and me that this baby was "not compatible with life". As we told the children, God had called the baby home to fly with the angels, to watch over the 4 of us from heaven. The children thought that was awesome; Dear and I are still traversing the healing journey through this VERY unfamiliar, yet slightly familiar, territory. It's hard to process that I had only gone in for a 20 week sonogram and ended up going an entirely different route.
I hate this shit. It fucking sucks. I at in the Outer Banks, staying with my parents, who fail to acknowledge the white elephant sitting on my head. It is not to be spoken about, not acknowledged, left alone....I struggle........I cry, I snap at my children, I read, I hear a song and I burst out in tears......I hug my two wonderful children and sob, quietly. Sometimes I curse things in my head that sound something like: Why the FUCK did this have to happen twice in 9 months?!?!?!?!?!" Then I breathe, sob, and move forward. One day the pain will go away. One day I might return to being normal, when the memory heals over, like a huge scab, then just a memory in my heart.
Thanks for reading this and understanding everything, even the f'ing curse words :0) Any words of wisdom are welcome. I know this happened for a reason, but I don't know why yet.......I'll need some support to make it through this time............
Love,
L
The lights dimmed, the children settled, in the same chair, I was stretched out on the exam table, and the tech was ready. She had two toned hair, dark brown half underneath on the bottom, with a lovely blond on top. She appeared young, vibrant, and had an accent that hinted toward a Midwestern upbringing. She squirted my belly with the gel, the son asked what that stuff was, I explained, and the journey began. The tech kept the screen pointed toward herself, so I busied myself with explaining to the children what she was measuring. I asked if she could find the gender yet, but not so much. She said she hadn't gotten that far yet. I told her that the baby usually moved from side to side, so it might be hard to keep up with it. I asked if it was moving a lot. She just said that it wasn't so active.
She told me that she had to take some of the images to the radiologist, so I could go pee, as I was exceeding my bladder capacity, and the children had to go too. What's a 5 minute delay in the grand scheme of things? And where was Dear? Was he on the phone with his boss, AGAIN? I figured I'd find him in a moment. No worries I assured myself.
The 3 of us traipsed back to the room, the children running ahead of me, laughing, and trying to see if they could get behind me to catch a glimpse of my fanny. It was hilarious. We settled down, assuming our positions, waiting........waiting.........waiting............WHERE WAS DEAR?! I was starting to wonder by now. I had no new texts and a full signal. Bizarre.
Abruptly, the door opened, the ultrasound tech entered with a flustered air about her, ushered the children out, and then let the radiologist into the room. I knew. The pit settled, the fear gripped my heart, the tears sprang as if they had a life of their own, hot, burning tracks down the sides of my cheeks, but I held my breath. Maybe I was getting this all wrong. Dear....where was he? I'm alone....the tears continued to rain down, totally out of my control. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be happy. I wanted my children there, but why were they escorted out and what was the radiologist doing? Oh SHIT. Nope, I'm not afraid, he's just there to confirm the measurements. Breathe........................
A voice from entered my thoughts, interrupting my calming techniques, how rude....it seemed to really want me to listen. "Mrs. Welsh, after reviewing the pictures, this fetus does not have a heart beat, thus a demise of the fetus had occurred." My goodness, was Niagara Falls falling down my face? I felt like my hair was soaked from taking a shower or walking under the falls. What did he say again? Have you seen my Dear? This isn't really happening, is it? Wait, did he say if it was a boy or girl? Wait, did he say demise? Did he say no heart beat? Something about calling the doctor right now, why? I'm all good; I had a heart beat at 8 weeks, why is this such a big deal?
*****Oh, wait, now I remember, the radiologist said demise...I'm not pregnant anymore.........How did that happen? What the fuck is going on? How is this possible? It had a heart beat of 153 beats per minute just 4 weeks ago!!!!!! You have got to be fucking kidding me. Everything was supposed to be fine. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. WHERE THE FUCK IS MY DEAR?!?!?!?!?!************
Somewhere during this time, the children reappeared, Dear walked in; the children told him that he had missed everything; he deflated; I tried to reassure him that he didn't miss anything because there wasn't anything to see, apparently..........demise, surgery, doctor calling.....whirlwind.....pictures deleted....wait, I wanted the know what the gender was........oh, that wouldn't matter in a demise.....who had a demise? ME?! Oh, that's right, there wasn't a heart beat. I don't have a baby anymore. I had to go to another room with a phone, the nurse from the doctors office was talking, I wasn't listening; Dear was corralling the children in this closet size room; what? what is going on? The nurse said I had to come to the office right now. Who? Me...right....Dear, can you take the children? I have to go to the doctor for something. Let's just walk outside. Okay, we're good. I can't make a scene in the waiting room, so hold on, let me dry my tears, blow my nose again, and gather my thoughts.
The baby was gone. *RING*, shit, that's my phone. I don't need to go to the doctor's office. I must go tomorrow at 2:30 pm. What the fuck is going on? How the fuck am I going to swing this? Dear has to work. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Thank God for retired in-laws who are supportive, kind, generous and ask few questions. My MIL came, picked up the children, kept them overnight, with the help of my SIL, BIL, and FIL, it all went like clockwork. I sat at home, sobbed, drove the doctor, sobbed some more. Surgery was scheduled for the following morning at 8. There was no more baby. Everyone was so sorry in the office. I was so sorry too.
The fetus measured 15 weeks, 1 day. I should have been 19 weeks, 1 day. The fetus probably had died right after my last appointment. How could I not have realized? Are you sure that there is nothing left? Yes, unfortunately, the demise was confirmed. All of this happened about 168 hours ago, depending on when you started to count. I started on Monday, the 15th of July. That was when the reality began to have to be processed. It sucked. It still sucks. A small comforting fact is that after the procedure on Wednesday morning, my beloved doctor relayed to Dear and me that this baby was "not compatible with life". As we told the children, God had called the baby home to fly with the angels, to watch over the 4 of us from heaven. The children thought that was awesome; Dear and I are still traversing the healing journey through this VERY unfamiliar, yet slightly familiar, territory. It's hard to process that I had only gone in for a 20 week sonogram and ended up going an entirely different route.
I hate this shit. It fucking sucks. I at in the Outer Banks, staying with my parents, who fail to acknowledge the white elephant sitting on my head. It is not to be spoken about, not acknowledged, left alone....I struggle........I cry, I snap at my children, I read, I hear a song and I burst out in tears......I hug my two wonderful children and sob, quietly. Sometimes I curse things in my head that sound something like: Why the FUCK did this have to happen twice in 9 months?!?!?!?!?!" Then I breathe, sob, and move forward. One day the pain will go away. One day I might return to being normal, when the memory heals over, like a huge scab, then just a memory in my heart.
Thanks for reading this and understanding everything, even the f'ing curse words :0) Any words of wisdom are welcome. I know this happened for a reason, but I don't know why yet.......I'll need some support to make it through this time............
Love,
L
168 hours and counting......
This post was supposed to be uplifting, which I hope it will be in some parts, even providing some humor in parts, but know it comes from my heart....which remains in just a few shattered pieces, but with my Dear by my side, there isn't anything that can't be survived.
The 30th of March started out like any other day, until I decided to pee on a stick. Low and behold to my amazement and joy, there were 2 lines! HOORAY..... HOLY COW.....CAN THAT BE RIGHT?.....JUST WAIT TIL I TELL DEAR!!!!! After the initial staring at the 2 lines, ALL DAY, feeling the butterflies of joy, the slices of fear and anticipating the arrival of Dear, I was able to finally show him! He was surprised, overjoyed, and then began to wrap his mind around this idea that we would be the parents to 3 darlings. It seemed to make up for the sadness from October, which tempered some of the excitement.
Time slowly slipped by, kind of like molasses in the Antarctic, until finally the 8th week was reached and I was able to go in for the first sonogram on the 28th of April. I held my breath as ultrasound tech began pressing on my very, very full stomach to try and find the heartbeat, indicating that all was beginning just right. Well, given that I consume water like I was traversing a desert, my bladder was too full, so I got to have the chance to pee, before I made a mess on the exam table. Upon returning, the tech continued and was able to show me the heartbeat. She even printed out pictures so I could show Dear. I think I looked like the Joker, a huge grin plastered across my face. I drove home quickly, excited to show Dear! We were so relieved and exhaled just a little bit, releasing some of the tension we'd both been holding.
Work picked up, but time passing seemed to slow down even more, as I waited for the next step, which was the nuchal translucency test. I had debated having it done, but given my age and the previous blighted ovum, I decided it was the right way to go. Dear was supportive either way, not wanting a repeat of the AFP test from when I was pregnant with my first, which sent me over the moon with fear that he was going to have Downs Syndrome, as it was a false positive. I scheduled the appointment, had the blood work drawn and had another ultrasound. Everything looked perfect. The baby was moving everywhere, the ultrasound tech had fun trying to keep up with it. It was wonderful. Again, I left smiling like the Joker, returned to work, and was excited to show off the few pictures she had also printed out for me. I was slowing releasing my fears into the wind, embracing this pregnancy with joy and great anticipation!!!!!
A week later the genetics counselor called with the results from the blood work. Trisomy 13 and 18 were at the higher end of normal, but still within the "normal" limits, and the risk for Downs was that of a 25 year old. I quietly rejoiced inside, continuing to listen but feeling distracted by my joy. A pregnant pause caught my attention again, as she began to explain that I had a low PAPP-A level. She explained that this is a hormone made by the placenta, only during pregnancy, which helped to keep the pregnancy continuing. She mentioned that if I should "Google" it, not to get caught up in the finer details, and just talk to my doctor at my next visit.
If you know how my brain works, this next part won't be a surprise in the slightest. I immediately "googled" what the PAPP-A level meant, what were some of the greatest risks, and perhaps, just maybe, began to perseverate a WEE bit. My roommate at school assumed the logical role and ordered me to close my computer and quit reading that shit. She said it wasn't going to do me any good reading about the worst case scenarios. I REALLY didn't want to listen to her, but knowing she MIGHT be right, I closed my computer and left it that way. I left it alone, even when I got home. I actually listened. I relayed to Dear the conversation, but neither of us was focusing on the negative, anticipating and positively looking forward to welcoming the baby in December.
I went for my next appointment the same week school concluded. I had lost 6 pounds, which was a huge bonus as far as the doctors were concerned, my blood pressure was a little high, but not anything to cause worry, and everything else was great. The nurse practitioner came in, we chatted, she whipped out the Doppler, and we heard the most amazing sound, at 153 beats a minute, the heartbeat. I even told her I felt it flutter across my belly. It was wonderful. I was on cloud 9. I loved telling Dear how great it was, how happy I felt, and scheduled the next round of appointments, taking me into September, confirming that we were okay to feel the joy we had been longing to feel. The sense of completion of our family wrapped itself around us. It was such an awesome feeling.
I took the order for my 20 week ultrasound home with me that day and waited to call for a bit, since I felt like time was on my side. I knew I had to have it done by the 20th of July. I knew I was also going to the Outer Banks on the 21st, so I thought it would be awesome if I could have it done before the beach, so I could maybe shop for some baby clothes....not that I haven't been saving the clothes from the first two kiddos but this one would NEED some new ones, right?!?!?! I called on Monday the 15th of July. Amazingly I was able to get an appointment for THAT day! I texted Dear, he was able to leave work and make it at that time, so it would be a family adventure. I would pick up my son from golf camp, come home and eat lunch, then head out for the ultrasound. I explained to the kiddos that we would be going on a secret mission to find out how the baby was growing. They were so excited. It was hard to keep them from bouncing all over the house in anticipation. I regretted giving them their assignment so early, but their joy was kind of invigorating. I loved it. I was enjoying every butterfly of anticipation. Have I mentioned I thought I was really floating on cloud 9?
The 30th of March started out like any other day, until I decided to pee on a stick. Low and behold to my amazement and joy, there were 2 lines! HOORAY..... HOLY COW.....CAN THAT BE RIGHT?.....JUST WAIT TIL I TELL DEAR!!!!! After the initial staring at the 2 lines, ALL DAY, feeling the butterflies of joy, the slices of fear and anticipating the arrival of Dear, I was able to finally show him! He was surprised, overjoyed, and then began to wrap his mind around this idea that we would be the parents to 3 darlings. It seemed to make up for the sadness from October, which tempered some of the excitement.
Time slowly slipped by, kind of like molasses in the Antarctic, until finally the 8th week was reached and I was able to go in for the first sonogram on the 28th of April. I held my breath as ultrasound tech began pressing on my very, very full stomach to try and find the heartbeat, indicating that all was beginning just right. Well, given that I consume water like I was traversing a desert, my bladder was too full, so I got to have the chance to pee, before I made a mess on the exam table. Upon returning, the tech continued and was able to show me the heartbeat. She even printed out pictures so I could show Dear. I think I looked like the Joker, a huge grin plastered across my face. I drove home quickly, excited to show Dear! We were so relieved and exhaled just a little bit, releasing some of the tension we'd both been holding.
Work picked up, but time passing seemed to slow down even more, as I waited for the next step, which was the nuchal translucency test. I had debated having it done, but given my age and the previous blighted ovum, I decided it was the right way to go. Dear was supportive either way, not wanting a repeat of the AFP test from when I was pregnant with my first, which sent me over the moon with fear that he was going to have Downs Syndrome, as it was a false positive. I scheduled the appointment, had the blood work drawn and had another ultrasound. Everything looked perfect. The baby was moving everywhere, the ultrasound tech had fun trying to keep up with it. It was wonderful. Again, I left smiling like the Joker, returned to work, and was excited to show off the few pictures she had also printed out for me. I was slowing releasing my fears into the wind, embracing this pregnancy with joy and great anticipation!!!!!
A week later the genetics counselor called with the results from the blood work. Trisomy 13 and 18 were at the higher end of normal, but still within the "normal" limits, and the risk for Downs was that of a 25 year old. I quietly rejoiced inside, continuing to listen but feeling distracted by my joy. A pregnant pause caught my attention again, as she began to explain that I had a low PAPP-A level. She explained that this is a hormone made by the placenta, only during pregnancy, which helped to keep the pregnancy continuing. She mentioned that if I should "Google" it, not to get caught up in the finer details, and just talk to my doctor at my next visit.
If you know how my brain works, this next part won't be a surprise in the slightest. I immediately "googled" what the PAPP-A level meant, what were some of the greatest risks, and perhaps, just maybe, began to perseverate a WEE bit. My roommate at school assumed the logical role and ordered me to close my computer and quit reading that shit. She said it wasn't going to do me any good reading about the worst case scenarios. I REALLY didn't want to listen to her, but knowing she MIGHT be right, I closed my computer and left it that way. I left it alone, even when I got home. I actually listened. I relayed to Dear the conversation, but neither of us was focusing on the negative, anticipating and positively looking forward to welcoming the baby in December.
I went for my next appointment the same week school concluded. I had lost 6 pounds, which was a huge bonus as far as the doctors were concerned, my blood pressure was a little high, but not anything to cause worry, and everything else was great. The nurse practitioner came in, we chatted, she whipped out the Doppler, and we heard the most amazing sound, at 153 beats a minute, the heartbeat. I even told her I felt it flutter across my belly. It was wonderful. I was on cloud 9. I loved telling Dear how great it was, how happy I felt, and scheduled the next round of appointments, taking me into September, confirming that we were okay to feel the joy we had been longing to feel. The sense of completion of our family wrapped itself around us. It was such an awesome feeling.
I took the order for my 20 week ultrasound home with me that day and waited to call for a bit, since I felt like time was on my side. I knew I had to have it done by the 20th of July. I knew I was also going to the Outer Banks on the 21st, so I thought it would be awesome if I could have it done before the beach, so I could maybe shop for some baby clothes....not that I haven't been saving the clothes from the first two kiddos but this one would NEED some new ones, right?!?!?! I called on Monday the 15th of July. Amazingly I was able to get an appointment for THAT day! I texted Dear, he was able to leave work and make it at that time, so it would be a family adventure. I would pick up my son from golf camp, come home and eat lunch, then head out for the ultrasound. I explained to the kiddos that we would be going on a secret mission to find out how the baby was growing. They were so excited. It was hard to keep them from bouncing all over the house in anticipation. I regretted giving them their assignment so early, but their joy was kind of invigorating. I loved it. I was enjoying every butterfly of anticipation. Have I mentioned I thought I was really floating on cloud 9?
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