Born Still but Still Born

2012-02-17T13:45:00.000-08:00

Wow. I didn't realize it has been close to 5 months since I had posted in here. That makes me sad. Because there are times I know I have really good thoughts or need an outlet. that means I don't post.

We had a nice holiday season, I often wonder what Curtis would be "into" for Christmas. Legos? Nerf? Video games? I get to shop int he "boy" section for toys because of Cole and I cannot help but glance at all the stuff. I have no idea what 90% of it is...I know if Curtis was here, I would be educated on each weird yamguchituchi thing! I wonder how he would react to all the holiday traditions I have started with the kids. What would he think was fun? Decorating cookies? Cutting down the tree with grandma and grandpa?
We have a tradition as a family to go buy toys for Toys For Tots. We have done it since Curtis died, but now that the kids are old enough we let them each pick out a toy to donate as well. They gravitated towards toys THEY would like so Craig and I pick out something appropriate for a 5 year old boy. It makes me smile to know a 5 year old out there got some cool trio blocks for Christmas this year.

With each passing of time, events....you always just wonder. What it SHOULD be like. There is never an answer, just speculation. It doesn't hurt as much to wonder like it used to, but it is very wistful and creates some hard moments.

I have a nephew who turned 7 last week. While I was pregnant with his cousin, we were so excited for these two boys to become friends. Playmates. Ryan only a little over a year when Curtis died but he has heard about him since he died and participated in the memorial events. I don't know what his parents told him...but a few weeks ago he went to his grandmother (Craig's mom) and said "You know what, Mimi? I miss Curtis."

This breaks my heart. He lost out on a life long cousin and friend when Curtis died.

But, at the same time, it warms my heart he knows him and talks about him....a little baby he never even knew.

There are moments where it is still really hard to accept. That was one of them. His loss hit everyone in our family. There is a teacher who missed out on teaching him, a little boy or girl who missed out on playing with him.... as time passes I am sure I will think about him in the terms of a teenager or man and everything and everyone who missed out on him as those ages. And everything HE missed out on.

It will never go away.

2011-09-25T16:31:00.000-07:00

Sweet Sara.... I first blogged about Sara back in 2009.

See the post here: http://born-still-but-still-born.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-have-mentioned-here-and-there-about.html

I have followed her blog for years. We exchanged emails back in 2009 for awhile. While we never became "friends" I thought of her as a friend since I read her blog daily. I often looked to her posts for wisdom, for perspective. She had a disease that left her house bound and it never seemed to rattle her. We could all use a little Sara attitude in our lives.

Sara passed away yesterday. I read the words in the middle of the night and my heart sunk. I had been keeping up to date on her condition, so it wasn't a shock...but, dang. I am going to miss her and her posts. They made me laugh, they made me tear up and they gave me many hours of reflection.

I will miss you, Sara. Thank you.

Her blog will remain open...I invite you to go back and read her words and her life. How lucky were her family and friends to get to have her in their lives? http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com/ Thank you for sharing her with us.

2011-09-06T03:52:00.000-07:00

Bitter. Sweet. Sweet. Bitter.....

Today is one of those days. With the start of the new school year for 2011-2012(for public schools in Minnesota, it is the day after Labor day) comes a whole new level of mixed emotions. Curtis would be starting kindergarten this year. Likely, he would have a year or two of preschool under his belt so this would be the whole formalility of going 5 days a week, possibly riding the bus. Going to the "big" school with the older kids. Maybe he would be in all day kindergarten and eat at school. There would be recess and field trips. Parent/teacher conferences. His first year in 12 years. I think we can all agree kindergarten is a big deal.

Now, with the start of each new school year, I will be thinking to myself "Curtis should be starting (whatever grade)." When will that end? Graduating high school? Graduating college? Claudia will be two grade years behind him so I know I will always have some sort of reference point.

Now, comes the sweet. Claudia will be attending preschool this fall. Two afternoons a week, for a few hours. She is going to love it. We have recently moved and I didn't think I would be able to enroll her. Thanks to some schedule changes at my work and daycare, my schedule is going to allow me to bring her. We found a place with openings and signed her up. I know she will love it. After a few years of various early childhood classes, I know how much she enjoys being in a classroom. This summer she has come out of her shell a lot and isn't as shy as she once was. When I signed her up, I made a remark to the woman helping me "She has gotten so big, so fast!" And the woman said, sweetly, "Are you going to be okay, Mom?". Oh yeah, I replied. "I am excited for her!" And I am.

I am just sad for all that he missed. First days of school. First sport teams. First field trips. First sleepovers. First homework....all the stuff that comes with elementary school and growing up. I have quite a few friends with babies starting kindergarten this year. It is hard not to be wistful of what _should_ be.

_______________

Please consider donating to Team Curtis....we are struggling to get donations this year. There is less than two weeks to the walk. Missing GRACE continues to help our hearts and helps new, grieving families each day going through the horror of stillbirth. http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/chantel-jullie/teamcurtis2011

2011-08-17T19:17:00.000-07:00

So, I got the book I referred to in my last post. It is really simple, to the point. It talks about a couple who were very happy but something was missing. That something was a baby. It talks about how they prepare for the baby, how excited they are, and how things don't go according to plan and the baby dies. There is no sugar coating of "passed away". It shows the couple crying, very sad. It goes on to say they were sad for a long time but eventually that special baby does work in their hearts to allow room for another baby.

I read the book to Claudia. The back of the book says ages 2 and up. No way would Cole understand this book in the next two months. Anyway, I know she doesn't have the concept of death or what "dead" means. So I am not sure what she fully understood. I know she understood the first part of the book where the couple was so happy. What confused her was after the baby dies in the book, the baby makes appearances as an angel looking over the mom and dad. I was trying to explain the book was about Curtis and she kept saying "look, the dead baby Curtis is back" on each page. I do think that part was a bit confusing. But, the end of the book shows the family celebrating the special baby each year and I think that may have clicked a bit with her since she still talks about the fun we had on Curtis' birthday. She has asked to read the book a few times and calls in "Curtis' book". I try to use his name and say the couple in the story is me and Craig to try to drive the point home more.

I know it will still be awhile before she understands Curtis came before her. I know this is OUR grief and not her grief so I don't expect sadness from her or Cole. I just want a bit of understanding from them. That Curtis is a part of our family, he always will be. He is no more important than them, we haven't "romanticized" him as the perfect child just because he never had the chance to live.... but that they were very very VERY much wanted. They were never a replacement for him. They would have been here even if he had lived.

For that, I am certain. All three of these precious babies were meant to be in my arms...even for a moment or a lifetime.

2011-07-21T17:47:00.000-07:00

I am really excited that I found this book: Someone Came Before You

I haven't read it yet, but the reviews look great. It is written to explain the death of a baby to the subsequent child(ren). I have a lot of blog friends who lost their first, like I did, so I thought I would share. Like I said, I JUST found it (ordering it right now) so haven't read it yet. I have been looking for a book just like this. All other books explain the death of a sibling to a child who was living at the time. Claudia and Cole came after Curtis and I want them to understand as best as I can. Claudia asks questions, but I know it is all clear as mud to her right now.

I will post more about it after I get it.

2011-07-12T19:49:00.000-07:00

My birthday was Saturday, the 9th.

I was remembering what my birthday was like 5 years ago. Craig's gram's birthday was the 10th. In 2006, she turned 90 and her family had planned a large party for family and friends. Craig's extended family was flying in from Florida to this party.... it had been in the works for a year.

In fact, in December of 2005, I was just a few months pregnant with Curtis. Had yet to know he was a boy, hadn't felt him move yet. Craig and I were celebrating our 1st anniversary and briefly spent some time in Florida and I got to meet Craig's extended family. I remember saying to them "When we see you for the party, the baby will have been born."

Her party was on my actual birthday. I remember my arms literally aching for the baby I was not getting to show off at that party. Curtis would have been just a month old. I had already bought him an outfit to wear to the party.... I didn't know what to do with myself. I was grieving so hard and missing him so much at that party. There were so many people, I felt lost in the sea of friends and family, just standing back thinking I shouldn't be blending into the crowd. I should be showing off my baby boy. It was a hard time.

I remember the card Craig's gram gave me for my birthday that year. I know I still have it. She had a hand written note that said "next year will be better. It HAS to." I can still hear her voice. Craig told me once that she had said that it was the worst news she had ever received when she heard Curtis died. This was a woman who buried two husbands and lost countless friends and family members.

By my next birthday in 2007, I was pregnant with Claudia. We are lucky enough that she got to meet and know Claudia. We lost Gram in 2009, just a few weeks before I learned I was pregnant with Cole. He is the only great grandchild she didn't get to meet.

Then again, you have to wonder if she didn't send him to us.

2011-06-28T20:56:00.000-07:00

(This post is part of a project "Right Where I Am" Where I Am Project)

Where I am, 5 years and 4 weeks after saying hello and goodbye.

Five years and 4 weeks ago I was gripped in a new reality. I had walked in to my 40 week doctor's appointment a pregnant woman with my first baby and walked out a grieved parent. I had given birth to a 6lb 10oz baby boy. I had held him in my arms, touched his little nose, said goodbye to his little body...and I went home.

I went home to grieve. I went home to try to create a new life. I spent a lot of time on the couch. I researched, I read, I sought out any baby loss mom I could find who had another baby. I knew that time would help. I have often said in this blog and in my life, that even in those early days, I knew 2 or 3 years down the road, I would feel better.

Here I am. 5 years later. I know I am one of the lucky ones. My marriage didn't crumble in the wake of this. We were still newlyweds, barely married a year and a half when Curtis died. We both clung to each other and both seemed to grieve in similar manners. We listened to each other. We supported each other. And then I got pregnant. Miscarried. Got pregnant again. Had Claudia and then had Cole. And here we are. Laughing and hugging our children. Up all night with puking kids and frustrated at each other for not doing this and that. You know, life. Life of a married couple with young children.

In all of this? Is still the knowledge of my greatest loss. My greatest disappointment, and of the best thing I have ever done. Craig recently started working a documentary of some sort, where we have sat down and started to 'record' our story. Explaining, on camera, piece by piece of Curtis' life and death was difficult. I cried and cried and told my story through my sobs. After talking, I felt drained and exhausted after one does with emotional upheavals... but his story has always been something I am proud of. Curtis is always something, someone, I am proud of. I made him. I created him. We were together, me and him, for 9 amazing months. I want you to know him. I want you to love him like I love him....just like I want you to know and love Claudia and Cole.

And, in that, is still the part I struggle with. People don't know Curtis like I know him. They see this family of 4 and never picture another little boy, possibly holding his sister's hand, or possibly making her scream. They never picture him playing tball with his daddy like I do. I want people to know him. I want him to be as important as my living children in their eyes.And that is something I struggle with. People _forget_ a baby died inside of me. Recently a co-worker repeated a horrible comment, a joke actually, about a baby dying inside of the mother. I sat, in absolute horror before I had to leave the room in tears. She felt horrible. But it speaks volumes that people forget. Forget what happened to me. She didn't know me when I lost Curtis, but knows my story...and it never registered to her not to say this in front of me.

I was hurt, but I wasn't mad. I know, in my heart of hearts, she was just repeating a dumb comment. Not trying to hurt me. All is forgiven.

I am not sure I could have done that 3 or 4 years ago. I did cry. I did talk to my husband about the comment. But I accepted, truly accepted her apology. I have often said in my grief process I KNOW people aren't trying to hurt me, but what do I do with the comments that DO hurt? Why must I be the grown up one and forgive hurtful comments? I still feel this way, why does the one who gets hurt have to be so generous? But, it does get easier to be generous with these things five years later.

On his birthday this year, I didn't cry. I did cry two days before, had a pretty big meltdown. But on his actual birthday, I felt peace. Later in the day, after all of our activities and travel, we were in our hotel room. Craig said "Is it 5:31 yet?",. And I said "What is 5:31?"

The time Curtis was born.

I felt _horrible_. Yes, it came out of nowhere. We had crawled out of the water park, soaked. We were ushering the kids in the room, they were begging for juice, crackers, and movies.

But my words haunted me for a long time. How could I NOT know what he meant? 5:31pm. On 5/31. It was his time. And I questioned what it even was.

So, five years later, I still have a very hard time forgiving myself for not being the perfect mother to Curtis. I didn't save him when I know I could have. And after his delivery, I made constant mistakes and missteps. 5 years later? I still am. That is the part I struggle with the most. Still screwing up the few times I CAN parent him.

Claudia and Cole have been some of our greatest joys. Curtis truly lead the way to them. Claudia mentions him all the time, though I know she still doesn't get any of it. I think she thinks the statue we go visit is Curtis. She talks about wanting to buy him a birthday present again. I know they won't have much relationship with him, it will be something that happened to her mom and dad and not something that happened to her. But I want them to understand we love all our children. No matter what. In life, in death, in bad choices and in good. We love our children. I would like to think I would have cherished Curtis the way I cherish Claudia and Cole had he lived. But there is a deeper element that comes with it all. I probably linger a bit more over their sleeping silhouettes, I may indulge their Dora obsessions a bit extra, I may worry a bit more after a rough daycare drop off. than I would normally.

But, with everything...I am still me. I still need my alone time. I still enjoy working and having something outside of my children to focus on. That was a surprise to me. After having Claudia, I was convinced I wouldn't ever let my children out of my sight...but I have and I do. I have given up some control. I wasn't ready when Claudia was a newborn, but at about 9 months, I was okay.

And that is what it boils down to. I am okay. I am more happy than I am sad. I love the heck out of my kids and miss my baby boy. I feel the grief grip my heart on a random day as opposed to his birthday. I have suffered a lot along the way. I still suffer from anxiety and PTSD. I don't know if I will ever, truly, be at peace with not saving his life. I don't know if I can forgive myself but I have learned to make peace with these things. I think it is okay for me to not forgive myself if I am kind to myself in other areas of life. If I truly can be happy in other moments and decisions I have made.

I will never ever be the same as the woman who walked into that doctor's appointment the morning of May 31, 2006.

But I am okay.

2011-06-04T19:38:00.000-07:00

Flowers for Baby Ethan, Baby Aaron, and Baby Abbey:

(The two white are for the boys, the pink is for Abbey. I couldn't find blue for the boys, but the girly mom in me knew Abbey needed a pink flower)

Flowers and a cupcake for Curtis:

We had a beautiful day for his birthday. We went to the Angel of Hope, laid flowers at Curtis' bricks, took pictures, ate cupcakes and released a balloon. As tradition, we took the kids to the Build A Bear and they each picked something to make. We then drove 3+ hours to Wisconsin and took the next 3 days as a family.

There were no tears on his 5th birthday. The night before, I had a pretty hard time when I was going to buy the cupcakes and flowers...the 5th birthday candle killed me... but the actual day was so much fun and something I look forward to. I plan this nice stuff. I look forward to having cupcakes, taking the kids to Build a Bear and going on vacation. I love building memories in his name. At the end of the day, it is just a date...I remember Curtis year round. My hard days are usually a random Tuesday out of nowhere.

I have some more pictures and video I will post of Claudia putting the flowers for Abbey, Aaron, and Ethan in the Angel's hands. It was really sweet. Abbey, Ethan, and Aaron all have a special place in my heart. I have mentioned them before. I have "met" Abbey's mom via blogs, she was born still June 4th, 2006. Aaron lived for 33 days, born premature, he was a total fighter and passed away May 31, 2006. The same day Curtis was born still. I knew his mom before and after our pregnancies. Ethan was born June 2nd and passed away June 14th 2005. I met his mom online after I lost Curtis.

2011-05-26T19:01:00.001-07:00

(Corss posted to my other blog.)

I am trying to wrap my head around 5 years.

A friend of mine with a little boy who was born a few weeks after Curtis posted recently that her little guy has his first loose tooth. Seriously? Curtis would be old enough to lose a tooth?

I was packing up Claudia's room this week and at the back of her closet, on the wall, I have 3 wall decals I placed there. They are from Curtis' room. A turtle, a snail, and a ladybug. When I took down his room and turned it into her room, I took a few of those decals and placed them at the back of her closet. I would catch of glimpse of them now and again. Claudia never noticed them until her closet was completely empty and she started laughing at the silly turtle with a hat and the bugs. She wanted to take them down and pack them in a box and take them to the new house. For her new closet. I think that is a good idea.

Each year I say I am going to handle the 2 months leading up to his birthday better, but I don't. It is a subconscious thing, I think. Because when it is here, I realize just how badly I have self destructed without even realizing it until it is past. So, we are just going to take a deep breath and hold on.

5 years.

He would go to kindergarten this fall. He would be playing soccer or hockey. He would be riding a bike. He would have a loose tooth. A dimple like Craig. He would be into the new Cars movie and want a party with his friends.

Or would he?

I don't know.

2011-05-17T19:58:00.000-07:00

I have been absent from my blog(s) lately.

But, it is that time of the year again. On top of Curtis' 5th birthday, we are moving.

We live in a small townhouse right now. Craig works over 35 miles away and the commute is killing him, about an hour each way. In the winter it is much more brutal. In the spring when he works 80+ hour weeks, it will be much easier to be close to home.

But, this house. This tiny 2 bedroom townhouse. The walls have started to close in on us. We have two little ones. Two bedrooms. A dog. Toys. It is a great place, but it is too small for us.

We bought this townhouse in 2004. When the economy was okay, when buying was the smart thing because you could turn around in 2 years and sell and buy something bigger. So we bought a place we could reasonably afford and expected to live here for 2 years.

Two years has turned into seven. We tried to sell once, when I was pregnant with Curtis. We couldn't, so we stayed put.

Now, we are moving. Seven years later. We are renting a single family home. Not all that much bigger then what we have now, but it has 3 bedrooms. A basement for storage. A deck. A yard. A yard for the kids. 10 minutes from Craig's work, close to our families. (No more traveling an hour to see Craig's family!).

But....this is the house where Curtis lived. It is where he was created, it is where his heartbeat started...it is where he died. It is very weird to think about. So many of my memories about being pregnant with him take place in this house. Like putting the crib together in the living room and it not fitting through the doorway of his room. Creating his bedroom.

Walking through the door without him on June 1st of 2006.

This house is also the house where Claudia and Cole took their first steps. It is where we brought them home after not bringing their big brother home.

A house isn't where memories live, they live in the hearts of those who hold them. This house has had so much sadness, but so much happiness as well.

2011-05-08T18:38:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of mixed emotions flowing around right now.

It is May.Curtis' 5th birthday is in a few weeks.

It is Mother's Day.

We are soon moving out of the house were Curtis lived and where he died.

I read this online recently and it has made it through the loss pages out there, but I thought I would share in case.

Some Mothers Don’t Get A Perfect Ending By Erma Bombeck

IF you are looking for an answer this Mother's Day on why God reclaimed your child, I don't know.I only know that thousands of mothers out there today desperately need an answer as to why they were permitted
to go through the elation of carrying a child and then to lose it to miscarriage, accident, violence, disease, or drugs.

Motherhood isn't just a series of contractions, it is a state of mind
From the moment we know life is inside us,we feel a responsibility to protect and defend that human bein
It's a promise we can't keep. We beat ourselves to death over that pledge.

"If I hadn't worked through the eighth month"

"If I had just taken him to the doctor when he had a fever"

"If I hadn't let him use the car that night"

"If I hadn't been so naive, I'd noticed he was on drugs".

The longer I live, the more convinced I become that surviving changes us.
After the bitterness, the anger, the guilt and despair are tempered by time, we look at life differently.

When I was writing my book "I Want to Grow Hair,I Want to Grow Up. I Want to Go to Boise," I talked with mothers who has lost lost a child to cancer. every single one of said that death gave their lives new meaning and purpose. And who do you think prepared them for the rough, lonely road they had to travel?

Their dying child.

They pointed their mothers to the future and told them to keep going. The children had already accepted what their mothers were fighting to reject. The children in the bomb out nursery in Oklahoma City have now touched more lives then they will ever know. Workers who had probably given their kids a mechanical pat on the head without thinking that morning were making calls home during the day to their children to say,"I love you."

This may seem like a strange Mothers day column on a day when joy and life abound for millions of mothers through out the country.

But it's also a day of appreciation and respect. I can think of no other mothers who deserve it more then those who had to give a child back.

In the face of adversity we are not permitted to ask "Why me?" You can ask, but you won't get an answer.

Maybe you are the instrument who is left behind to perpetuate the life that was lost and appreciate the time you had with them to do it

The late Gilda Radner summed it up pretty well. "I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned the hard way that some poems don't rhyme and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what is going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity

2011-04-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

I have come here a thousands times to post in the last month and I start....and stop.

It is the time of year where so many memories come flooding back. You would think after 5 years April and May wouldn't make me as sad as they do, but it hasn't happened. It is better, sure. And due to the traditions we have set up in Curtis' memory I _do_ look forward to his birthday.

But I wonder.

I wonder what I was thinking April 14th of 2006. I had access to a journal I kept online when I was pregnant with him, kind of like a blog. I remember combing through my pregnancy journal after he died reading what I wrote and chastising myself for having hope this baby would live. Heck, EXPECTING him to live. Because at 35 weeks pregnant a live baby was a given. Correct?

So, tonight I looked.

I didn't make an entry on April 14th, 2006. But I did on April 19th, 2006. So I read it. I was getting the room ready to go.

".....I then start playing with the room and rearranging it and started putting the bugs on the wall. (This was very systematic too. I didn't want too many swirls and stars in one area and not enough in others. I am a dork) I just put together the dresser last night (Tuesday)...but we have a good spot for it. I haven't done anything with the bedding or stuff yet. So it is a work in progress! Picture time:

The bookshelf (the truck on it was his Easter basket and on top is bookends. Monday I went out and bought 3 baby books so I could put them up. I am so excited!"

I should probably stay away from what I wrote. It just screams YOU ARE SO NAIVE to me.... I know I prepared a room/bought stuff for both Claudia and Cole. But when I did that stuff, I wasn't so naive. I was preparing for the best case scenario and pushing through absolute fear. And with Curtis, I just assumed.

2011-03-17T14:37:00.000-07:00

I recently have "liked" Tom Zuba on facebook. He is a grief guide and an author. He advocates for mourning safely. His own story is horrific. He lost his toddler daughter, his wife and son. All at different times, all for different reasons. My heart ached when I read his story. How can one person endure so much loss? Watching life he created, die. Watching the love of his life, die.

His posts on facebook have always hit home with me.

This one quote he posted today really hit home for me. I often feel people are shocked when I can talk about Curtis' story so easily. But it isn't that it doesn't still hurt....it does....but his death has allowed me to be a much better person in dealing with other people's losses.

When we are in pain, we become self-centered and myopic. When we heal, we become more empathetic, self-less, and sympathetic to the pain and welfare of others. It is our gift to others to heal ourselves." ~ Max Strom

I remember being completely selfish when we lost Curtis. Which was fine. I needed to protect myself, my heart. It means not being around for Christmas that year, it meant not answering the door for trick or treaters.... It is what I needed to do to learn my new normal and "heal" into that norm.

2011-03-12T17:39:00.000-08:00

Today, I took Claudia to her gym class and something that happened there has been haunting me ever since.

Another family was there watching their older boy who is in Claudia's class. I have seen them before but it had been awhile. Another mom was standing next to me and she asked this couple, "Where is your little one today?"

He died last week, they replied.

My heart sunk. SIDS they said. He was 5 months old. My eyes filled with tears. Her eyes filled with tears.

This is the first time I have experienced this. I have been on the other end numerous times. I was pregnant, then I wasn't. People in my life who knew me, but didn't KNOW me, asked "You had the baby! Where is he?" Their faces would fill with horror. They would stammer out some statement. It was horrible.

I didn't know what to do. Do I intrude on their grief and tell them I lost a son? I was catapulted back to June of 2006 when all I felt was overwhelming grief. Where living each day took so much strength and effort I could barely remember to take a breath.

I told them I lost my first. I told them he was stillborn when I was 40 weeks pregnant. I told them my situation was different but I understood grief. I said to find support, find a support group, find people who knew, people who would be willing to talk about their boy. Surround yourself with people who understand grief is a life long process and you will never be the same. The mom asked me questions. Would she ever smile again. Would she have another baby. How did I get through my next pregnancies. She asked if I had miscarried, I said yes. She asked how I responded. I was honest. I told her I was mad as hell. I told her how my two subsequent pregnancies were horribly debilitating. She talked about his funeral and his little casket. She had been admitted to the hospital a few days ago because her grief was too overwhelming and she became dehydrated. I told her she will smile again and feel okay but the grief of losing her baby will never leave. She asked how to keep his memory alive. I told her she will do so many things in his memory.... I told her about resources I know about to help them through this year.

Her husband eventually steered her away from me.I could tell he was uncomfortable with our conversation. I felt horrible about this. He obviously was trying to get his wife to focus on their little boy in his class, she obviously is in a rough place being that she just got out of the hospital. I felt bad, I probably overstepped my boundaries but I so badly wanted her to unload on me. He was trying to be polite, I could tell, but I had upset him. I told them my situation was different, but grief...I know grief.

Seeing a mother in SO much pain, so much raw pain, brings me back so quickly to my own pain. I feel a touch of survivor's guilt because I am over 4 years out from losing Curtis and I feel as normal as I can. I miss him, I grieve him, I write and talk about him...but I am past that first year where I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. I remember what it feels like to be her and I am so glad I am not there. It is a yucky feeling to watch someone feel the way she does and remember I felt like that once too.

I want to apologize if I said something or did something to further their pain....I just wanted so badly to talk with them and be someone who understands. I can't understand SIDS, I only know stillbirth but each is grief beyond measure. You can't compare the two, but you can look at two mothers who are grieving, four and a half years apart.

2011-02-11T19:13:00.000-08:00

Our Story, Part 28

Since I have been on a hiatus from blogging about pregnancy after loss, Claudia's story, this was the last post I made. Part 27 On the side of my blog are a list of each post about "our story" I have to go through and tag them, there are about 26 entries at this point (I got messed up somewhere along the way with the numbers.... one day I will go fix it. Not today.) I am going to finish her story and...heck, get started on Cole's. Why not? So look for these posts in the coming months!

We had agreed to meet with the doctor over 90 minutes away. I clearly remember the appointment being at 3:30pm on a Thursday. I had been emailing with the doctor and she had squeezed us in. Craig and I drove to St Cloud, MN and arrived 30 minutes early. We easily found the clinic and made our way to the waiting room.

The waiting room was packed. Full of pregnant women, babies, and the humdrum of a busy office. My stomach was in knots. I felt like I was going to throw up at any given moment. Craig was making light jokes, like he always does, and I was shooting him death glares. We must have been quite the sight.

The minutes ticked by and our appointment time came and went. My head was racing, a headache had already formed. What if? What if this doctor didn't live up to expectations? What if she was cold and clinical? What if we didn't click? How was I doing to get this baby here? What if she tried the doppler and the baby was already gone?

About 45 minutes after our appointment time came, they called me back. A nice nurse lead us back to the room. After she sat down with us, the first words she said to me were "I am so sorry about the loss of your son, Curtis."

She said his name. She mentioned my loss. She KNEW. She looked at my chart. I wasn't just a number, another random patient. She took the time, the doctor took the time, she knew. I had my charts sent from my former clinic, but I was still so impressed they took the time to mention him, and by name. I love his name. I love hearing it.

The nurse went over my history. It is typical in a first prenatal appointment. Entire family history. Medications. Blah blah blah. I relaxed some, but this work up took over 45 minutes and I wanted to meet the doctor. The nurse eventually stepped out and said Dr R would be in soon.

We waited. We sat in silence. I often wonder how Craig held it all together. I was the one with the baby growing inside of me and I am sure he felt on the outside so much. Not sure how to get me through, not sure how to get himself through....but he was there and that is what matters.

Dr R came into the room. A beautiful woman, late 30s, with a giant smile. She warmly smiled at us, shook our hands. She leaned into us as we talked, she combed through my charts. I felt an instant kinship with her. I later would joke that I would move her in with us if she would come. I loved her that much. She apologized for our loss. She asked me if it was hard being in a clinic full of pregnant woman. She asked questions and listened to our answers. She was more than willing to have me monitor with the research doctor in my 3rd trimester. She wanted to see my very 3 weeks instead of the regular four. Eventually, the middle of the 2nd trimester she wanted to see me every two weeks. Starting at 28 weeks, every week. She wanted me to have regular ultrasounds to monitor growth. I would have the nightly monitoring starting at 28 weeks with the cord doctor and she would review the monitor strips each night. She would give me her phone number to reach her at any time. She wanted a full blood work, something my past doctor had completely missed. She laid out a wonderful plan. She was honest. She said she wouldn't hesitate to put me in the hospital if something didn't look right. She wanted me to meet with the perinatologist for a high risk ultrasound. At anytime, she may transfer me to a peri if she felt I would be better served. The appointment was a breath of fresh air. To have a doctor not rush out of the room. To have a doctor take the time, to listen. My other doctor told me, despite losing Curtis at 40 weeks he would do nothing different. This was light years different. Right away.

I would later discover I would have to often wait for my appointments well past the scheduled time...but it was because she spent so much time with her patients. Yeah, I probably got a little bit extra because of my history. But I have met her other patients, ones non-high risk and they all feel the same way about her.

I remember walking out of the clinic with Craig by my side. We started walking across the parking lot and he took my hand.

"We made the right decision in coming here."

Yes, yes we did.

2011-02-06T18:13:00.000-08:00

I posted a story that crosses both of my blogs. It is about the doctor I had who helped me get Claudia and Cole here. I haven't finished Claudia's pregnancy story yet...but she is the key player:

Bittersweet Goodbye

2011-01-27T18:35:00.000-08:00

Today has been a no good rotten day. Actually, this whole week has been rotten. Not at home, but at work. I have a job I truly enjoy but as with all things you pour a lot of yourself into....it can be stressful. It can hurt. It can cause you to want to throw your hands in the air and walk away from it all.

Lately, I have been thinking about my first moments with Curtis. Not when I was pregnant with him, but right after the nurse laid him on my chest after he was born. He was so quiet. So still. His eyes were closed...and I was scared of him. I was so scared of his little, still body, a body I had felt move at one point but now....was still.

Basically, I had poured myself into this pregnancy and him and when it got hard, I walked away from it all.

Just for a moment. Just for a moment. I swear, it was just for a moment. But the guilt of what I felt in those moments, being scared of him, eats me up more than any of my other regrets. The nurse took him away and cleaned him up. He came back all wrapped up, cozy, like any newborn baby. I held him. I shared him. I had to make the decision to eventually say goodbye to his little body and never, ever, ever hold him again.

These moments have been looping in my mind lately. I don't know why. I don't know why four and a half years later I can't forgive myself of being scared of him. Being scared of what was ahead. Sometimes it still feels like too much. And I want to throw my hands in the air, and walk away. But I can't. Because, like all things we truly enjoy and all things that are worth pouring ourselves into....there are moments where you know it is completely worth it.

2011-01-17T16:06:00.000-08:00

Funeral Clothes.

I went through my closet recently, pulling out stuff to donate. Stuff that doesn't fit. Stuff I don't wear anymore.... I tend to hang on to things for sentimental reasons. There is the dress I wore to our rehearsal dinner. There is the pair of jeans I wore on our first date. (After 4 pregnancies, 3 kids, 4 surgeries two of which were csections and gaining and losing weight over and over again I will NEVER fit into again). Then there is the long flowy skirt and brown sweater top I wore to Curtis' funeral. I remember, very clearly, standing in the dressing room at JC Penny's trying it on. It was 3 days after I have given birth. I was all post partum. Still looked 6 months pregnant. I had nothing that fit. The skirt had an elastic waist. The top fit. I cried in the dressing room. This was not how I had expected the third day after giving birth to go. I wanted to be dressing and changing my baby boy. Not picking out clothes for his funeral.

But, I did. And, a mere 10 days later, I had to wear those clothes again to another funeral of a life that was taken way to suddenly.

So, since those two funerals those clothes had sat in my closet. Why? I don't know. I have cleaned out my closet numerous times since. Those clothes are too big for me now. I don't even like them that much. I bought them out of necessity. But I have hung on to them. Because they are a part of a memory. They are part of my journey through losing Curtis. So, there they sat.

I stared at them. I took them off the hanger. I am not attached to them. But they are a symbol, a symbol of a part of my life that is all too important.

But they are just clothes. Just clothes I wore, on two really really hard days. Clothes I picked out to say goodbye to my son. Clothes I wore when I stood up in front of friends and family and said 'Don't feel too sorry for us. We got to meet and hold our son.'

I added those clothes to my donation pile. It is weird to do so after looking at them for the last 4 and a half years, just hanging off to the side. But it is okay. They are just clothes.

Right? Then why did it feel so weird?

2011-01-08T05:03:00.000-08:00

The random things hit, the things that I had forgotten about and come rushing back.

I was in Target the other day, their Christmas stuff had hit 90% off and I was digging for any treasure I could find to put away for next year. I found a cute shirt for me, a wreathe hanger....and all of a sudden I flashed back to January 2006.

Craig and I went to Target and I found the clearance stuff. 90% off Christmas stuff. There was a stack of baby Christmas stuff. Christmas Pooh bear bibs, some little Christmas socks, Christmas onesies. Some made for girls, some made for boys. I told Craig I would buy some if I knew what the baby was. He laughed and told me for 90% off, I should just buy it. The most we would be out was ninety cents and who cared about that? I threw it all in the cart. Stuff we weren't even sure would fit. We couldn't predict how big our June baby would be come that December. But, for 90% off, who cared!

I had forgot about that shopping trip five years later. I even forgot about it half way through my digging through the 90% off rack this year....and then all of a sudden the memories came flooding back. I remember being SO giddy buying that stuff for him (we didn't know it was 'him' yet...we would find out that two weeks later.).

I suppose some things never change...I still get giddy buying stuff for my kids, even more so if it is a great deal. It is interesting how a memory like that can come out of nowhere. It doesn't knock me flat out like it may have in the past, but it is still sharp enough that it hurt for a minute to take a deep breath.

2011-01-05T12:12:00.000-08:00

A friend posted this on her FB today:

"I'm going to get out of bed every morning, breath in and out all day long, and after awhile I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed in the morning and breath in and out. And, then after awhile I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for awhile...." ~Sleepless In Seattle (when asked what he... was going to do after loss)

And, I am loving this quote by the wonderful Elizabeth Edwards, who lost her son Wade when he was just 16.

"If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift.'"

Just wanted to share.

2010-12-31T11:52:00.000-08:00

Hi Everyone! I started a new blog: http://ourversionofafamily.blogspot.com/

Yes, I will still be blogging here at BSBSB, as this is Curtis' story and that never ends. Also, in the coming months I *will* be finishing the story I started way back when. I will finish Claudia's story and hopefully Cole's as well. Pregnancy after a stillbirth deserves a lot of attention...it is was tough tough time. That will all occur at this blog.

However, I find myself wanting to blog more about some day to day stuff as my children are growning to share with family and friends, and you can find that at our other blog. Please follow if you would like! I am sure there will be some cross over...because Curtis is very much a part of our daily life as well.

2010-12-24T04:20:00.000-08:00

We have had quite the holiday season so far. We have had a lot of fun activities and also a lot of issues. such as blizzards ruining plans and stomach flu wiping three of us out last weekend and this week!

On Wednesday Craig and I took the kids to see Santa. We had to, twice, cancel a breakfast with Santa. First time due to 20 inches that dumped on us and the second time because Claudia was throwing up. So, on Wednesday Craig and I took them. It is a different kind of Santa thing, he spends five or so minutes getting them to warm up to him. Sitting on the floor with them, chatting with them before the picture. They had great methods for getting Cole on Santa's lap without him even realizing there was a strange man with a huge beard holding him.

Honestly, it was one of the cutest things ever. Claudia loved him, Cole did fabulous. Even when he swiveled his head around and saw who was holding him, no screams. Santa made him laugh and all was right.

I am pretty used to it now. I had a fleeting thought of 'Curtis should be here' but it wasn't overwhelming. Last year was Cole's first Christmas and I was really overjoyed he was HERE, he was SAFE. I cried after we took them to see Santa and Craig said "One is missing?" and I shook my head. That honestly wasn't it. I was relieved and happy to see two children with Santa.

It is hard not to feel guilty. I had a hard day a few weeks ago, randomly bursting into tears over Curtis. Those days are far and few in between but a lot of it was the guilt I feel for moving forward. But, I know, I have no reason to. Curtis is just as loved as when we first had him. His death is just part of our lives and that is the only capacity we have had him for four and a half years. Cole and Claudia are here so of course we are going to live their lives with them.

I don't even know what I am trying to say. With each passing year, it gets better. It really does. That doesn't mean I don't miss Curtis....but having Claudia and Cole with us to brighten our days... watching them grown by leaps and bounds continues to fascinate me.

Curtis, I miss and love you. Though we parted ways too soon I know I feel joy at a much deeper level because you are in our lives. Merry Christmas, baby boy.

2010-12-14T19:01:00.000-08:00

Today, I took the day off of work and took Claudia to the mall. They were having a special even where you could meet Dora and have a Christmas dance and sing a long. Claudia loves all things Dora so it was a special me and her time.

While standing in line, there was a grandma in front of us with her 4 grandkids (I am assuming. A few called her grandma and they all looked similar in age). 2 of the little girls were talking to my cousin and her daughter. Somehow the fact came up that my cousin's daughter has 3 older sisters. The little boy of the group, who is maybe 4, then turns to me and says " I have three sisters too." And a few seconds later, he says, "I have a brother who died."

I sat for a second, not sure of what he said.

I asked him what he said and he repeated "I have a brother who died. His name is Nathan."

I was holding Claudia and I said to him "She has a brother who died. His name is Curtis. That is hard when a brother dies."

He nodded and smiled at me.

I said to him "Thank you for telling me about him."

He beamed and went back to playing with his cousins. I saw his grandma give a sweet smile to him.

I have always wondered. I have always wondered what Claudia and Cole will say. Will they mention him with ease like this little boy? I sure hope so. Will it change as they get older? What relationship can or will they have with a baby who left way before they were ever present?

But, I am so thankful I ran into that little boy and his sweet mention of his brother, Nathan. And to Nathan and this little boy's parents: Thank you. Thank you for talking about the son you lost and making sure he is int he hearts of your other children.

2010-11-21T05:32:00.000-08:00

I just realized my last two posts sound a lot the same...it is what happens when you post months apart and don't look back as to what you have written.

Today, Claudia is three. I remember driving up to the hospital (close to two hours away) terrified. Out of my mind. We had not told our families I was having an amnio and a possible c-section that day. They still thought it was a week away. We didn't want to get their anxiety levels up, ours were bad enough.

I had rented a doppler and even in the way, on the way to the hospital, I would listen to her heartbeat.

I remember the cold, sterile room where I had the long needle inserted into my belly and they removed fluid from the baby.

I remember our wonderful doctor having to do it TWICE because the needle didn't work. I remember her saying that had never happened before and "Of course it would happen to YOU."

I remember walking up to the room and laying on the bed and getting hooked to monitors. I remember waiting, waiting, waiting for results.

I remember Claudia going NUTS in utero. I remember her turning and turning and kicking to the point I was in tons of pain. I remember watching her heart rate climb to over 220 (NOT normal) and I remember launching into full blown panic. I remember the nurse telling me it was normal. I remember arguing with her that I had nightly monitoring for 8 weeks and the highest her heart rate got was 170 and 220 was NOT normal. I remember Craig trying to call me down.

I remember them calling my doctor and her racing in, looking at the monitors, and telling me they would take the baby no matter the results of the amnio.

I remember calling my parents...so excited to tell them the baby was coming but being that they were taken so aback by it they were scared instead of happy. I had to tell them this was a GOOD thing, a planned thing...but I was so upset what I had expected to be a "HAPPY" call after Curtis' "SAD" call wasn't.

I remember Craig getting scrubs on. I remember being wheeled into surgery. I remember not asking questions because I was afraid of the answer.

I remember the needled inserted into my spine...I remember the doctors and nurses joking, talking about what they were going to do for Thanksgiving the next day.

I remember a tug. I remember MORE tugs. I remember Craig sitting next to me, talking softly and calmly, but his eyes showed his nervousness.

I remember Dr. R pulling her out and saying "There is a cord." (meaning a cord issue. She was wrapped up, a lot, in her cord. Again. Another baby with a cord issue. Why her heart rate had climbed).

I remember her cry. I remember saying "I want her to keep crying". I remember looking to my right and seeing her under the warming lights.

The first feeling? Not an overwhelming sense of love. Or happiness.

I felt relief. RELIEF. She was here, She was alive. And for the first time in about 17 months, a deep breath I took.

Falling in absolute love came about an hour later when I got to hold her before she spent the rest of the day in the NICU being monitored. I was okay with her NICU time. I was thrilled someone else was caring for her, watching her. It had been exhausting being the only one to care for her 24 hours a day. And not being able to physically see her.

I fall more in love with her everyday.

2010-11-18T17:49:00.000-08:00

I am lucky.

I am the lucky one.

I am the one I would have searched for after losing a baby at 40 weeks.

In the days, and weeks, after I lost Curtis I was desperate to find someone like myself. Someone who lost their FIRST baby at 40 weeks and went on to have living children. I couldn't relate to someone who lost their 2nd or 3rd or 4th baby. I wanted to find someone like me.

Someone who walked in to the doctor's office and no heartbeat to be found. I wanted to know they picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and tried again. And succeeded.

I am my own "best case scenario" after losing my son at 40 weeks.

I picked myself up, dusted myself and everyone around me off, and tried again.

And took home a beautiful daughter and a beautiful son.

Our family is as complete as it is going to get without Curtis. I truly love my life as it is right now. I can't bring back Curtis (trust me, I have tried. I still play the what if game on a regular basis). Claudia and Cole fill my days with laughter, joy, stress, exhaustion, and love. (Yes, I said stress and exhaustion. Because that is what kids do. Even as a loss mama, I still get annoyed and frustrated. But, I gotta say it is a heck of a lot less thanks to a truck load of perspective.)

I am blessed to have a job I enjoy and can work part time at. I am blessed to be able to take a few classes with Claudia.

I think about Curtis all the time. I miss him all the time. I tear up when I see how much Cole loves to watch the little boy who is close to Curtis' age at daycare. Or watch my sweet nephew who is only a year or so older then Curtis, want to sit close to Cole and entertain him. This year Curtis would be 4 and a half at Christmas. I can picture him running down the stairs with Claudia in tow, jumping up an down at the excitement of Christmas morning. But, it isn't my reality and never will be.

Ya know, as I write this, it still doesn't even seem real. I miss being pregnant with him when I had no clue what my future held. I miss the short time I got to hold him...my mind was so fuzzy I didn't do all the things I know in hindsight I should have. I hate the fact I didn't have the funeral for him that I should have.

It is emotions I have blogged about before. But they are always still there.

But, I am still the best case scenario. I know far too many women who have had miscarriages, stillbirth, and more miscarriages. And no living children. I don't know why this isn't me. None of these women deserve that nightmare. I do count myself as the lucky one.

Claudia is turning 3 on Sunday. Three. I haven't even gotten close to completing her pregnancy story and birth story. But I promise I will. It is all so fresh still.

Three years ago, I took a deep breath for the first time in about 16 months. I know I am lucky.

2010-09-21T19:25:00.000-07:00

One year ago today, I entered the hospital. Pregnant with my second son and terrified out of my mind. I wouldn't leave for 3 weeks...but when I left, I had a teeny tiny baby boy to show for my, my husbands, my doctors, and my family's efforts. It was truly a team event. I know this...but his pregnancy was the loneliest I have ever felt. I remember pacing the hospital room in the middle of many nights in a full blown anxiety attack. Waiting to hold him in my arms. Wanting to hear his cry.

Here we are...almost a year later. Our Cole is almost one year old. I walk through the baby aisles at Target the teeny tiny baby aisles. With the newborn shoes and the newborn onesies. Cole isn't that anymore. (Heck, at 30 lbs..yes 30 lbs...he hasn't been that for awhile!). Cole is approaching the "toddler" age. Thankfully, he isn't toddling anywhere yet and I am okay with that.

But it is amazing. Amazing on how fast a year can go. We have an almost 3 year old and an almost one year old. They make us laugh, make us smile, and make us regularly lose sleep.

Given what happened to us...losing Curtis like we did... things couldn't have turned out better for us after his loss. Having two children in our arms. Having a solid, fun, happy marriage. We have been lucky. The road to get here was hard. Their pregnancies were horrid. Cole was a hard newborn with colic and reflux. But... things are good. Really good. I will miss having a teeny tiny baby to shop for teeny tiny things for...but it is okay. I want my children to grow up. I have given my children life so they can LIVE it. I couldn't do that for Curtis, I couldn't give him the life I thought I was. So, instead of clinging too tightly and not letting my children find their wings, I resolve to make sure my children get to experience life. I plan to enjoy each and every moment. They are already such neat and interesting people...I am so excited to know them as adults.

But not too soon, okay? I am not ready to shop in the big kids' section, much less the tween.... living in the moment is a good thing. And Curtis? As I am watching Claudia and Cole...I will carry your heart....

2010-09-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest things about being a parent to a child who has died is ....well, you are still their parent. You still want to talk about them. You want to DO things for them. You want to brag about them. I know there are some people who prefer not to mention the children they have lost... but not me. Curtis is an everyday part of my life.

Anytime I have the chance to do something in his memory, I jump at it. The walk is the one time a year I ask/beg/plead with other people to remember Curtis with me. Our families are great, they willingly participate in the annual walk/run with us. I hate fundraising, I really do....but for Curtis, I do. I have spent the last month making my facebook status updates and asking people to donate in memory of Curtis. I ordered personalized tshirts for everyone walking with us (they turned out GREAT!). It is the one time of year I push...I push people to remember our baby boy.

Last week, the founder of the Missing GRACE Foundation asked me to come and record some radio spots promoting the walk. They have looped on a local radio station. I cannot tell you how excited I was to be able to do this...talk about Curtis? Get to record something talking about Curtis that lots of people will hear? You bet!! Anything to talk about my boy.

Here are the clips:
http://hopeandheartsrun.org/minnesota/RadioChantal.mp3
http://hopeandheartsrun.org/minnesota/RadioChantalJulie.mp3

It has been a hard month. My little boy should have started preschool this week. The what ifs ALWAYS haunt. But events like this...well, they ease the pain a bit. We get to take Cole to his first Hope and Hearts walk (well, last year he was there....just in utero!) and take Claudia to her THIRD. We will have a team of friends and family with us.

In grief, there are blessings.

2010-08-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

I am here :) I wanted to post a link to my fundraising page for Curtis.... Team Curtis 2010 is such an important time in my life. The walk is something I look forward to all year. Last hear I was in my final month of being pregnant with Cole and I just couldn't fully enjoy the walk. This year I am so looking forward to bringing Curtis' siblings to the walk and remembering my baby boy. If you can please donate...even the smallest amount makes a world if difference. The money goes to prevention of stillbirth and pregnancy and loss support. Missing GRACE does amazing things. It was started in memory of lovely baby named Grace, who was born still at 32 weeks. Her parents have taken her name and created her legacy.
See more about Curtis, my family, Missing GRACE and The Pregnancy Institute:

http://www.firstgiving.com/ateamforcurtis

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have had a few questions/comments in my comments/emails lately about recent posts and I wanted to address them here:

I had a question about my co-workers friend's baby who had decreased movement:

The baby was born without complication as far as I know. When she went in for decreased movement there were heart decels and they did an immediate c/s and the baby was born fine. Early, but fine. The cord issue was severe but it doesn't look like there has been any lasting damage.

I had lots of comments about my coworker who I told about kick counts, his wife is pregnant right now and we discussed, at length, kick counts.

He recently came to me and said "Just wanted to let you know, since our conversation my wife has been really vigilant with her kick counts. I hear her every night. She has an application on her phone (YAY technology) and it is going well. She knows his pattern and says it was cool figuring that out each night."

Needless to say I was THRILLED to hear that. Kick counts aren't just to make sure the baby is moving, it is about tracking PATTERNS.

Just wanted to throw those little updates out there!

I have a lot of friends and family due in the next few weeks. 3 of them recently had their babies and about 3 more I am waiting for.... I get nervous for those people. I do. I remember being at that finish line. I much prefer once their babies are here safely. I hate the worry I feel for them...and even more I hate the jealousy I feel when I see their smiling pictures after the baby is born. I am THRILLED for them, but I am always sad for myself. Yes, I have had 2 babies since losing Curtis and have gotten to experience the happy birth experience. But my birth experience is different. I knew the flip side and because of that my world is colored different. I do not want them to experience that at all.

But I always wonder what it feels like to be them. To not have had sadness surrounding a birth. To just know everyone's pure joy and excitement... to just know the baby will come home with you. It is weird to me that I have brought home two children, and yet, other people's births make me jealous.

2010-07-03T07:13:00.000-07:00

I just recievied this email from a co-worker:

I "hang out" on an american pregnancy discussion board with other moms due in August. A couple days ago a woman at 35 weeks asked about reduction in movement and everyone on the board was like, it's normal, not enough room, etc, etc. So I jumped in and shared your story about Curtis and said that you were a strong advocate of doing kick counts and any change in pattern could be a sign. Well the woman took my advice, didn't feel baby a lot yesterday, followed her instinct and went to the hospital, had decelerations so they did a c-section - cord was twice around the neck, once around the body, and once around the arm. I just feel like you sharing your story with me, and me being able to pass it on really helped save that baby. Maybe Curtis was watching out for her. The baby's name does start with a C!

Kick counts. They work. This email...it means a lot. It means a lot that there are some people who listen, it means a lot that in my grief I have been able to 'help' others.

2010-06-24T19:07:00.000-07:00

There is a new guy at work, I don't know him well, but his wife is expecting. I told him he is going to love being a dad. That, yes, there are sleepless nights and fumbling through things but not to believe all the people who cackle and do the whole "just you wait" thing. That some of my best memories were those first few days home with each of the kids. He said that was a relief because everyone keeps telling him how hard it is. I hate when people do that. If it is so horrible why do people KEEP having kids then? Please.

He then asked how many kids I have.

Yikes. I make it a point to always mention Curtis. Not in a "feel sorry for me way" or "I want to scare the hell out of you way" but in the "he is my kid and a part of our family."

I did my standard "That is a hard question for me to answer. We have 3. A little boy who should be four but he passed away. Then we have our daughter who is two and a half and a baby boy who is 8 months."

He responded saying how sorry he was and asked how we lost him.

Hmmm. Now, I have to tread carefully. I do not want to scare him, but I want to educate him. I want to tell him what I wish I knew. I tell him that exactly. "Well, I don't want this to scare you...." and I tell him. I gloss over the hard details. But I tell him how it could be prevented. I tell him that if his wife ever feels like something isn't right, that the baby isn't moving much, to go in. I stress the importance of kick counts. Any change, Don't wait days, just call. Just go in. He asks questions. He asks good questions. Later on he comes back over and asks me more questions. I tell him I am not trying to scare him. He says he knows, he isn't scared. He wants to know so he can prevent something happening. He wants the education.

This isn't the first time I have had this conversation. I always stress to the person how preventable Curtis' death way. Had my doctor been more concerned with the heart decels. Had he listened more when I said the baby wasn't moving. Had I been educated on kick counts....I tell him if the doctor isn't listening, find another. Get more than one opinion. They see so many pregnant women on a daily basis, we are a dime a dozen. We live with that baby inside of us. They don't.

I always feel bad talking to a parent to be about this stuff. I was 40 weeks pregnant. People want to think it is so rare, but it isn't. But Curtis is a part of our family and...well, if I can educate people without frightening them...I will. I tell him to feel free to ask any questions. I don't mind talking about Curtis. I LOVE talking about it...it doesn't make me sad.

I just never want this to happen to another baby. Another family. Curtis didn't get to live his life. Babies deserve to live. He had no choice, he died. But he taught us so much, he has given us so much...I try to give back to others in his name.

2010-06-09T18:42:00.001-07:00

Curtis' birthday was wonderful.

I wonder if four years ago I could have ever imagined saying that about anything surrounding him. But it was.

Did I shed tears? Yup.

However, Craig and I have worked hard on making his birthday something we look forward to. The first year, we took a trip away. We enjoyed it so much, we did the same trip again bringing Claudia along. As well as adding a few more traditions in the mix.

An annual tradition was born.

this year we did change it up. The place we used to go was wonderful, but not very little kid friendly in ways of things to do inside. So, if it was rainy, we were stuck. This year we chose to go to the Wisconsin Dells area. For those of you not familiar with the midwest, it is pretty much the waterpark capital of the world. I think Craig was apprehensive, he loved our old place. He had never been to the Dells.

One of my fun little things is to research. So I researched the heck out of resorts and found one that claimed to be great for toddlers and smaller kids when it came to the waterpark. There is access to their other resports with larger parks, but this one was suppose to good for the little ones. Craig agreed, I booked it.

And I was excited. I was excited about his birthday. BECAUSE of what we had planned. Craig works crazy hours in the spring and this was going to be our time, finally, as a family.

We left on Monday morning. As our tradition, we first stopped at Build A Bear. Bears have become Curtis' "thing" since he was posed with one in the hospital. His urn is a teddy bear and our tattoos are bears. Each year we have taken Claudia to build one and this year we got to bring Cole with. We let Claudia pick whatever she wanted, this was the first year she really got that aspect. She picked a pink flamingo. I picked a lovely black bear for Cole. In the future, he can pick his own...but for this first year, he needed his own "Curtis Bear".

We had a great time doing that. Then we were off to the Angel of Hope statue in Maple Grove, MN. Curtis has three paver bricks in his memory at the Angel. The Angel is dedicated to any one who has lost a child. Since we have Curtis' ashes with us, this is our "spot". We laid four white flowers on Curtis' bricks. We also laid 4 flowers in the Angel's hand. Blue ones for Curtis, Aaron, and Ethan. A pretty red one for Abbey. Aaron was premature and lived 33 days. He died the same day 5/31/2006 Curtis was stillborn. I knew his mom when we were borh pregnant with our little boys. The fact we both lost them on the same day is horrible, but we are forever bonded because of it. I met Ethan's mom after my loss. She lost her beautiful boy June 14th, 2005. He was born on the 2nd of June and lived for 12 days. Abbey's mom I know through the blog world. Abbey was stillborn June 4th, 2006. Half a country away, another mom was going through the same heartbreak I was.

As we laid the flowers in the Angel's hands, Claudia was repeating each name I was saying. She actually talked about "Abbey's flower" long after the day ended.

We had grabbed some subs and had a little picnic near the Angel. I had brought cupcakes that we lit a candle in and we said Happy Birthday, Curtis. Right then, the wind picked up and blew out the candle. It gave me chills. I put a cupcake on his bricks and left it there.

We drove to the dells and had an uneventful car trip (about 4 hours). We immediately threw on our suits and headed down to the waterpark. We had a BLAST. It was perfect. Claudia is shy and tends to get overwhelmed and needs time to warm up. It was a good size for her. )The next day we were able to explore the outside waterpark, and it was perfect as well. Fun little water slides and even jumpy swings for Cole.)

That night of Curtis' birthday, Craig and I sat and started to talk....we talked about the things that haunt us most about that day. We talked about how far we have come in four years. How given how that day went, we could have never predicted how right things could be four years later. Claudia's and Cole's pregnancies were hard. Debilitating, really. But we are on the other end of them. They are both here and cute and funny and loved.

We are happy. The ache, yes....the ache is there. We miss him. All the time, but I can't change what happened. I try, in my mind, all the time. I still play the what if game.

But, on a day to day basis, I am happy.

We had a wonderful rest of our trip. I would bore you with the details but they are: eat, waterpark, eat, nap, waterpark, eat, sleep and repeat. We mainly stayed at our resort, but we did check out a few others.

I hope this tradition continues as long as we are able...in the future kid's schedules and own interests may get in the way. But right now, the time around May 31st will be our little family get away time. I want the kids to know he is a part of our life and we will celebrate him. But I also know they won't be able to form a relationship with him like we have. So, this is our way of building memories in his name.

I don't have my own computer (Craig took it on a work trip and I am on my work comptuer) so I don't have my pictures. but I do have this video uploaded of us laying flowers for our babies.

2010-05-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Curtis,

Happy 4th birthday, baby boy.

We miss you. I can write a bunch of long sentences about life with you and life without you. I can write about how we are coping, how we continue to live and honor your memory. I can write and write and write...but it boils down to one simple thing.

We miss you.

Since your last birthday, we became a big brother again. Your little brother was born in October. Just like with your sister, it was such a happy time. We know how blessed we were to bring him home. We never, ever, take that for granted. We know walking out of the hospital with a baby isn't a given.

Your sister is starting to become aware of your presence. We know she doesn't "get" it. But she calls the teddy bear she made on your birthday her "Curtis bear". She looks at my necklace hand stamped with 3 precious names on it and says "Curtis, Cole, Claudia. Mama's babies." She looks at your picture. She will know you. She will know that you are a part of our family.

You are four today. I try to wrap my head around having a four year old. I can't. You are still the little baby I held so carefully in my arms. I wish we had more time, Curtis. I wish I could have seen you develop into your personality. I wish I could see you open Christmas presents. I wish we could have a bowling part with 5 screaming boys....

But we can't. And because of that, we miss you. We miss the little baby we held in our arms and we miss the boy you never had a chance to grow into.

You are so loved. You are remembered with sweet smiles, sad tears, and wonderful memories. We continue to make memories in your name. You may not be in our arms, but you are forever in our hearts. We miss you.

My favorite saying, one I will repeat time and time again:

We are richer, by far, to have help you a moment than to have never held you at all.

Love,

Mommy

2010-05-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

An amazing post and comment thread/discussion.

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/home/2010/5/21/dear-friend.html

I love the comments, especially the person who commented on how us baby loss people can be a pretty critical bunch. I know I have been, even when I understand what they meant or they weren't trying to hurt me. And how there are often no right or wrongs and so many of us all want different things. I still have a rough time knowing what to say when someone has a stillbirth or infant loss. It is a dark place and grief is so much work. I also like the person who said when the grieving couple "seems" back to normal...not bursting into tears every 5 minutes, back to work, back to life, even having another pregnancy or child that is when they need you to remember the most. It is so true.

2010-05-15T21:16:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is Cole's baptism.

When Curtis was born, we learned that the priest they could call in would refuse to baptize him because he was already dead. I am not Catholic, but I was married in the Catholic church and my husband was raised Catholic. My mother in law was upset at this development as was I. I didn't belong to a certain church but I wanted something for Curtis. We had the hospital chaplin come and he did a christening type of ceremony. I know it was beautiful and touching...too bad I don't remember a word of it.

I was a little ticked at the Catholic church over their refusal to baptize Curtis. When Claudia was born and we started to plan her baptism, we wanted to have her baptized in the church we were married. We had to attend a class before they would allow it. I figured it was just going to be a bunch of mumbo jumbo about how now she would go to heaven and stuff.

But it wasn't It was actually a whole lesson on sacrament and what it means to be baptized. How it is the parents introducing the child into the world of God. How it is a promise to raise the child to be a member of God's family. Many people are under the impression (including a lot of Catholics) that being baptized means you go to heaven. If you aren't baptized, tough cookies. Not true. Being baptized has nothing to do with going to heaven. The man leading the class...he was not a priest, but a high ranking member of the clergy. Maybe a deacon? Time is making my memory foggy. He was married with kids and had studied theology. Anyway, he kind of made the off handed statement "So, if something happens to your baby before they are baptized, of course they will go to heaven. Please know that. Know that you can get the child baptized in your own time."

I remember lowering my head and letting the tears fall. Of course, I KNEW that already. But to hear a member of the Catholic church say this, and explain the whole history and reasoning behind baptism and how much it isn't about going to heaven and is about sacrament, meant the world to me.

Later, after class...I approached him. He had seen me cry and he knew there was a "story" there. Craig and I explained what happened. Curtis died. The priest they would call in (NOT the same priest at this church. These are far away from each other) would not baptize our son. We spoke to him, he explained some of the "old school" thinking some priests still have, how it isn't important because the baby is dead. That there is "no point." He said this is just years of bad practice and doesn't stem from the correct theology.

He said "I know, without a doubt, had one of the priests here been called, they would have baptized your son."

That meant a lot to me. I felt better about baptizing my daughter in a church where my son would have been honored as well. So, we will baptize Cole tomorrow, in the same church that would have honored Curtis.

2010-05-08T06:28:00.000-07:00

I was reading another blog and decided to participate in Show us your life in regards to how I got my children's names.

Curtis Roger:

On both sides of our families, we have a lot of Cs. My parents and brother are all C names. All the dogs we had growing up? C names. My birth announcement said "Now we are the 4 Cs!" When I met Craig, his family has a similar name structure. His parents are both Cs, and his 3 older brothers have "K" names. All six names have the hard 'C' sound. In fact, his 2 of his brothers married women with names with the hard C sound.

Are you following this?

So, given that BOTH sides of our family had the C thing going, I wanted to do it too. When I was first pregnant with Curtis, we weren't. We tossed around names like Benjamin and Samuel... but I really wanted a C name. The problem was there was not a lot of C boy names we could agree on. Craig is not one for anything "unique" or modern (like Caden or Carson. Names I love). One day, a friend suggested Curtis to me. I fell in love. I LOVE the nickname Curt. I had a student with the name Curt and I realized it was perfect. I sent a text to Craig and he said he would "think about it". He knew a Curt at work and didn't particularly love the guy. I was devastated. I think in my pregnant hormonal mess, I bawled for a few days until he finally sent me a text that said "I like Curtis now". I saved that text long after Curtis died. I only had to give it up when I got a new phone.

Towards the end of my pregnancy, I also suggested Cole. He liked the name but said "I think Curtis is the big brother's name and Cole is the little brother's name."

Roger is Craig's middle name. Craig's middle name was after his uncle who passed away.

Claudia May:

Claudia is a name I have adored since I was a preteen. My father's name is Claude and he is the most wonderful man in the world. Claudia wasn't JUST named after him. Honestly, had my dad's name been Robert, she would NOT have been Roberta. However, it was a win/win situation. The funny thing is, when I was pregnant with Claudia, my dad kept joking I should name her Claudine, Claudette, Claudia...I would just roll my eyes and say "keep dreaming!". So, in the recovery room when we finally revealed her name, for a split second he thought we were joking. My mom knew I wasn't because she remembered me saying I loved the name years ago. He was very touched.

Had we had a girl first, her middle name would have been Abigail, after my mom. My mom's middle name is Gail and I didn't particularly love that, but do adore Abigail. But, when I was pregnant with Claudia, I wanted a way to honor Curtis. Curtina wouldn't cut it! One day I realized "May" would be perfect. Curtis was born in May, the last day of May. It was the perfect way to remember him.

Cole Charles

It should be obviously why Cole has the first name he does, if not, read Curtis' paragraph again! Charles is after my mom. Her first name is Charlene, so we made the male version of Charlene.

Had Cole been a girl, he would have been Carissa Abigail. We just loved the name Carissa and thought about it for Claudia.

2010-05-06T07:30:00.000-07:00

Claudia is close to two and a half years old.

She is still in her crib. She has never attempted to climb out. She seems like her crib just fine. We had gotten a new crib for Cole so there was never a hurry to move her out.

But, being that we are moving into potty training, being that she IS two and a half, it is probably time to convert her crib into the toddler bed. Basically, we just have to take off one side of the crib and attach the toddler rails.

But that crib? I put that crib together 4 years ago this month. The crib that Craig and I sat downstairs, in front of the TV, putting together. Then, we carried it upstairs and tried to move it into Curtis' room. Didn't work out so well, it wouldn't fit through the doorway. We had to take it apart and put it back together again. Talk about a pain.

That crib should have been taken apart a long time ago. But the baby it was put together for never came home to sleep in the crib. So, I am a bit misty eyed at the thought of disassembling it, even if it is just to convert it. It is time, I know it is. But the time for it is just coming at a hard time. Right at the 4 year mark of Curtis' birth.

It is just a crib, but it is a lot of memories. Putting it together for Curtis (and taking it apart and BACK together for him)...it is taking off the bedding I bought for Curtis and putting on the bedding I bought for Claudia. Claudia laying in it for the first time. HOw amazing and tragic all at the same time. I am so thankful she has outgrown it, because Curtis never had that chance. But it is so bittersweet. Never will that crib be prepped for one of my little babies. I am taking that crib and turning it into a big girl bed and, quite frankly, it bums me the heck out.

2010-04-14T20:30:00.000-07:00

Losing Curtis is such an everyday part of my life. The pain is not overwhelming on an day to day basis. Our story has just become part of me. So much so that I forget how truly truly awful it really is. That may sound silly, but until I am reminded of the true, raw emotions when it comes to giving birth to a still baby, I don't realize how far I have really come.

Recently, I was watching some videos put out by the MissingGRACE YouTube. Memorial videos they make when they are present at a birth of a baby for the families. I was feeding Cole while watching these videos....beautiful videos of beautiful babies being held by their families. Siblings meeting this baby, a baby who has already passed. Friends and family gathered around for a baptism. It is all set to beautiful music. The pain was overwhelming. The tears just rolled down my face as I struggled to not sob, knowing it would scare Cole who was in a blissful half sleep, eating his bottle. It brings me right back to May 31st, 2006. Right back to laying in that hospital bed, with Curtis placed on my chest. To watching our family hold our baby boy one by one.

Spurred by these videos, I started reading through my blog last night and tonight. I read about the moment we found out Curtis was dead. I read about giving birth to him. I read about planning and having his funeral. And I cried and cried and cried.

I forget. On a day to day basis the pain isn't like this. Which is probably a good thing. I think about Curtis all the time. All the time. But it isn't necessarily painful. Wistful, maybe. A fact of my life, yes. But not painful. But that is why I have to bring myself back. I need to remember where I have been to remember how far I have come. This may also sound weird, but the pain is a good thing. It is feeling. I haven't become numb to the situation.

Like I have said before, I will never be "over" what happened to us. I am always working at moving through the grief, learning to handle insensitive comments with grace, and remembering my baby boy.

It often feels like something that happened to someone else. We have two beautiful children upstairs, asleep in their cribs. Children who make me laugh and smile, children who wake me up in the middle of the night and exhaust me. Children who will try my patience and bring me joy beyond measure. Then, there is this other child who will never be any trouble. Who won't try my patience or keep me up all night.... but he, too, brings me joy beyond measure. Sometimes that joy manifests itself as pain, however. To remember his birth is to remember very real hurt. When it comes to Curtis, pain and joy go hand in hand.

I am really missing him and aching for him and wondering what may have been. This time of year always does this. I find myself slipping into bad habits...self destructive things when I am trying so desperately to be healthy. Four years out, you think this would be old hat, but it isn't. I don't think it will ever be.

2010-03-27T04:03:00.000-07:00

It is interesting the alientation I still feel when it comes to normal parent discussions. I get so frustrated when people talk about wanting one gender vs another gender. They keep talking about mourning what they are missing. About not getting to expeirence dolls and cute clothes or trucks and dirt.

Maybe I would feel the same way had Curtis lived and we had all boys after him. Maybe if life had handed me everything perfect, wrapped up in a pretty bow, I would long for dresses and capri pants.

I really thought, after Curtis died, I would have all girls. And I was okay with that. I really really was. Because when you have a baby who died? You are grateful for a baby, any baby, who makes it out screaming. I am not saying these parents aren't grateful for their children. But had there been a choice given to them before they were ever pregnant, they would choose the gender they wanted. Plain and simple.

Life doesn't work like that. We can't get everything we want. Someone once told me "the grass is greener where you water it." This is SO true. People are always looking at what others have, wanting that for themselves that they forget to look what at they have and enjoy it. Would I go back and change Curtis dying if I could? Yes. I would. I would want him to get the chance to let him live his life. I firmly believe Claudia and Cole's exsistance has nothing to do with his. I believe we would have all 3 with us, even if he had lived.

But he didn't live. He didn't. So, I could longingly look at families who have all of their children alive and live my life in such a state of "what ifs" that I couldn't function. But I choose not to. I choose to live each day, as much as I can, in the moment. I cuddle by boy as he drifts off to sleep. I sneak in his room to look at his sleeping face. I write on the driveway with chalk with my daughter. I dance around the living room with her and take her to swimming lessons. I remind myself each day how truly blessed I am to have them in my life. I ache for and miss Curtis but life did not work out the way I had planned. I cannot go back and change it. But I refuse to let that detail stop me from enjoying what I have.

I just want to scream when people "try for a boy" or are upset they will never get to go wedding dress shopping. So many people can't have children. So many people lose their children. A side story, one day I was shopping with Claudia when she was about 10 months old. This lady stopped me and said "You are soooo lucky to have a girl. All I have is boys." With her 3 boys standing next to her. I was dumbfounded. I said "Yes, I am blessed to have her. Are all your children alive?" She looked at me and said "Yes." Then, as I walked away I said "Then YOU are the lucky one."

I am not quick on my feet like that usually. Usually i think of the good reply days later. But I was proud of myself. I am not saying people shouldn't feel their emotions or whatever, because they should. But to sit and have these discussions and overthink this stuff just makes you long even harder for a different life. Life isn't fair. It sucks. But one quote I keep in mind:

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon - instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today. ~Dale Carnegie

2010-03-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

So much for my blogging 3 times a week thing, huh? But this time, it isn't my fault! I swear. Spring is a the really busy time at Craig's work. He gets home at about 6:30pm, helps me get the kids to sleep and is on the computer until 1 or 2 am. Crazy. Evening time has been my blog/computer time so obviously, I haven't had access to the computer.

On Wednesdays, I take Claudia to a toddler class. It is through our local school district and is really cute. There is a free play time, circle time, snack and a time the parents go off and have parent discussion time while the children play. Every other mom in there is a stay at home mom. I am the only one who works. They all adore the parent discussion time, a break from the kids, adults only...and I tolerate it. I love the class because it is my time with Claudia. (Cole is in the sibling care room). I am not saying I know everything about parenting, but having worked in the child development area I am not learning anything new as a lot of topics revolve around that. We were asked what topics we would like to discuss, given a sheet of paper and asked to rate them. I put "birth order" the lowest on the list. I don't believe in the whole birth order hype, and quite frankly, it is a sore subject for me.

Sure enough, our 6th class or so...birth order was brought up. All the other moms were excited to discuss this. Me? I am fighting tears.

The parent educator says "okay, I think all of our kids in class are first borns."

No, no they aren't.

Claudia may "act" like a first born (if you believe in that stuff). She may be treated like a first born in the fact she was our first living child...but she is NOT the first born. I gave birth one time before her.

I am fighting back tears. I am lowering my head. I hate this topic. I hate Claudia being refered to as a first born. It is the phrase that grates on my nerves. They are referring to HER...but to me? She isn't. I do not participate in the discussion. I do the thing we all perfected in high school. The look of participation. The polite interest, glazed over expression. But, my mind is a million miles away. To my true first born. What would HIS personality have been like? What 'first born' traits would have encompassed him?

I want the discussion to end. I want to get back into the other room, back to my daughter. Back to the reason I am taking this class. One to one time with her. Watching her explore new toys, watching her take interest in other children. I look at the clock. Sitll 10 minutes left.

Thankfully, the phone rings. It is the sibling care room...they think Cole needs a diaper change and can I come down? Everyone groans for me. Feels bad I have to leave this interesting coversation. But I practically skip out of the room, to my _third_ born. And, even though parent education time isn't over, I sneak back into the room where my second born is playing. She yells out MAMA and reaches towards me, pulling me around the room to show me her newest discovery.

2010-03-08T18:39:00.000-08:00

This time of year is rough. We are all very much experiencing spring fever. It is warming up (40 degrees!). The spring and summer stuff hit the shelves at Target. I have bought C & C spring clothes. I set out Easter decorations, but when I look out the window?

Nasty snow. Not even the pretty snow from December, but the stuff that is half melted, covered in dirt, sand, and salt. It is very much a reminder that winter is still here. March and April we tend to get snow. We are still in it for the long haul.

Close to a year ago, I found out I was pregnant with Cole.
Close to three years ago, I found out I was pregnant with Claudia.
Over four years ago, I found out I was pregnant with my first baby boy.
Five years ago, my husband and I started trying for a baby.

I think you can see how crazy the last 5 years have been for us. This time of year always brings up memories for me. My pregnancy nearing the end with Curtis. The beginning of my pregnancies with Cole and Claudia.

I look around at my little home, my cute children, and the happy place I am at....and then I glance out the window and see what I still have to deal with. I almost chose the word "overcome" but I know I will never overcome Curtis' death. Nor, do I want to. I am in a good place in my life. I am starting to focus on my needs as well as giving everything I can to my family. I am learning to balance work, family, and me time. I am enjoying where I am at. I am enjoying being done with pregnancy forever and focusing on the day to day excitement two little ones bring.

But, looking out that window, of what is left, of what is still missing in my life hurts.

2010-03-04T10:32:00.001-08:00

So, I have been working on "goals" for myself. The last 2 months...heck, the last 6 months have been really difficult in getting myself back to normal. The stress and anxiety of Coley's pregnancy was overwhelming. Then, he was a pretty fussy newborn and I was still dealing with anxiety...then I went back to work and was trying to adjust to that. Then, both kids have been constantly sick, including a week stay in the hospital for Cole.

Not to mention daily life headaches, car needing new breaks, possible gas leaks (that weren't), random doctor visits, stomach flu for me....

You know, LIFE!

So, in an effort to feel more together, I have started a short term goal list as well as a long term list. Some of it is to help focus on ME and things that I enjoy. One of them is to blog 3 times a week. I have lists and lists of topics and moments I want to blog about. Everyday I think "yes, must blog about that tonight" and do I? No.

So, I am. My other goals include exercise, eating better...long term goals include spending a bit more effort on getting nice haircuts and taking care of myself in that manner. I also have some goals of things I want to do for Curtis' birthday and in his memory. Also things like taking classes with Claudia and Cole (in the future). I signed up Claudia for swimming lessons and we are taking a toddler class together on Wednesdays.

Another thing I want to mention is this website I found. I have been reading about Gratitude Journals and how they can increase a person's mood and happiness. In a world full of so much negativity (heck, look at the start of this post!) it is nice to take a few minutes to write down blessings in life. From the nonsense, like my Wii Fit to the more serious, a wonderful mom who babysits my kids...it is a time to focus on GOOD. Here is a "how to" about gratitude journals:
http://www.ehow.com/how_2088881_keep-gratitude-journal.html

Well, quite frankly, I wasn't going to go to that extreme of some of the points listed. A friend pointed me to this online gratitude journal: http://www.gratitudelog.com

It is sort of like Facebook and Twitter in a way. I take a few moments each day and jot down something I am grateful for...I really am enjoying it.

So, that is where I am. I am going to be blogging 3 times a week. I am going to write about all the topics swirling in my head about Curtis and my family.

_________________

Here is a story I wanted to share. For Christmas, I asked for a necklace hand stamped with all three of my children's names on it. It has their 3 birthstones and I just adore it. Claudia has been looking at it a lot lately. I have been telling her "Curtis, Claudia, and Cole. My three babies." Lately, when she is looking at it and touching it she has been saying "Curtis, Claudia, and Cole." The way she says Curtis is soooo cute. I just love hearing his name come out of her mouth. I know she doesn't "know" what it means. She is only 2. But I just feel the more she hears his name and knows he is a part of our lives even though he isn't physically with us, the better. I never want it to be a surprise to her that she has an older brother and we truly feel his spirit in our lives.

(Of course, now she thinks any necklace or bracelet is called "Curtis, Claudia, and Cole. But that is besides the point! ;) )

2010-02-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

From this....

To This....

To so much better!!

Thank you for all your kind thoughts and prayers. Cole is back home after 7 days in the hospital. We are blessed to have been at a great hospital whose sole purpose is helping children get better. We were one of MANY families dealing with RSV on our floor!

It is so great to see our Cole smiling and happy again. When Claudia came home from daycare to see her baby brother home she squealed and laughed. She really didn't notice he was gone. She is still pretty much in the 'live in the moment' kind of thing. When I asked her where Cole was the one day I got to see her during this she told me he was at "work". But it was nice to see her so happy when she got to see him again. What is funny is one of the kids, Kay, at daycare missed him the most. Each morning after Claudia was brought in, Kay would look around and ask where "baby Cole" was. Today when I picked up Claudia, she pitched a little fit over not getting to see baby Cole. We had to assure her he would be there tomorrow.

I was grateful walking out of that hospital with our son. Like I mentioned in my last post, I struggled (and am struggling) with the knowledge that I missed my baby being in so much distress. Again. I was lucky this time. Lucky I was on the winning end this time.

2010-02-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

I know I haven't been here in eons.

I have been...struggling. I miss Curtis. I love Claudia and Cole. I am trying to navigate my way through our days and nights. We have had a roller coaster 4 months with me having surgery, the holidays, me going back to work part time, and sick kids.

I have so much to share...but right now I am here to ask for thoughts, prayers, good vibes...whatever you can send.

Our dear Cole is currently in the hospital. He was admitted Tuesday night with a serious case of RSV. I took him to urgent care Tuesday night, honestly thinking we would get a nebulizer treatment and go home. Within 10 minutes, they had called an ambulance and we were on our way. It was such a flurry of activity I sat back and watched, paralyzed in fear. What just happened? He was just congested, right? We had no idea how bad he was...he is our little champ and had been in a good mood, acting fine...this whole time he was struggling to breathe and we didn't know it.

Just like Curtis. He was struggling to get oxygen and I didn't even know it.

We do believe Cole is on the mend. He is getting the best help and is in the best place for children who need to be hospitalized. But it has been a long road as his little body fights this. He is slow to recover from this, but he is getting there.

Thank you for anything you can send our way.

2009-10-26T13:35:00.000-07:00

When I was in the hospital, I started thinking about a woman I met on a message board. We both lost our first children, boys, to stillbirth. We both had miscarriages. We both then had out daughters around the same time. We would email on occasion and I lost track of her. I sent her an email while in the hospital, just saying hi. Checking in. I didn't say anything about my pregnancy, just wanted to touch base with her at that point. She hadn't posted on our message board in forever, and hadn't posted on her blog in months.

I didn't hear back, no biggie. It had been well over 6 months since we last emailed. Maybe I had her email wrong.

Soon after coming home with Cole, I found her blog again one late night during a 3am feeding.

She had posted again. It had been months since she posted...and her news was not good. She was 20 weeks pregnant, with her second son.

And he died.

Right at the time I was giving birth to Cole, she was having to make decisions and choices and going through the loss of her second son.

She is living my worst nightmare. I haven't been able to get her off of my mind. She hasn't returned to her blog and given the vast internet and the fact I don't know her that well, I doubt we will ever talk again. But my heart aches. This is a stillbirth mom's worst fear. All those people who say it can't happen again. Wrong. Those doctors who say it is a fluke. Wrong. It can and does happen again. Her losses were at different gestations, one at 34 weeks, one at 20 weeks. But does it really matter?

She is done having kids. She has one living child when she wanted a houseful. She threw caution to the wind over and over to have her children and was hit in the face. Again. Having a living child inside of you and having it die inside of you. Again.

I am just...at a loss. It is easy for me to say, because I am sitting here with my living son when I know she is going through hell, again. But I do ache for her. I ache for her family and the nightmare she living. Once is more than enough. Why twice? I just will never understand.

2009-10-07T13:44:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note to let you know our 2nd son was born screaming on 10/6/09. Almost a month early but he has been doing great with no NICU time.

Something of a dramatic delivery as his heartrate dropped and they moved fast. So fast Craig wasn't even back there yet (they were still preppingme for surgery so he was waiting) and missed the actual birth. That was a little sad but when the doctors say it needs to happen, so be it!

He looks identical to Claudia when she was a newborn. Who looked a lot like Curtis! He is already eating like a champ and as long as I am healing okay we should go home on Friday or Saturday.

Emotional, but amazing!!

2009-10-02T20:17:00.000-07:00

I am checking in, briefly. Still in the hospital, still okay.

Anxiety is rough though. I honestly expected this pregnancy to be easier than Claudia's and it hasn't It is like the last 3 and a half years of the aftermath of losing Curtis, grieving, Claudia's pregnancy and this pregnancy are finally all coming to a head.

It is rough.

But I am hanging in, he is hanging in.

Trying to push the fears aside...and the fears just don't surround the baby this time, it surrounds me and my well being and, quite frankly, is very scary.

Hanging in, like I said.

2009-09-24T07:55:00.000-07:00

Blogging. Live. From the hospital.

Yup. Soon after my last entry, I was sent to the hospital after monitoring showed something was up. I was monitored continuously for about 4 days, met with some high risk docs, and it was decided based on my history and my tendency towards pre eclampsia and my increasing numbers in that region that I should just stay put until the baby is born.

Am I upset? No.
Am I bored? Not yet.
Is the food okay? Eh...

:)

Seriously, I am in good spirits. It isn't ideal, I hate being away from Claudia but ever since we learned this baby has a cord issue and my panic attacks set in, I have been a pretty cruddy mom anyway. It is better for me to be here, anxiety in check thanks to a lot of monitoring, and knowing at any moment they could get this baby out if needed.

I do stare at pictures of Claudia a lot. When she came to visit on Sunday I got NERVOUS to see her. Mainly because I knew she wouldn't react well. She was confused, she wanted to run the halls... Yes, she gave me a hug and wanted "up" but was off and running again and got pretty crabby only 30 minutes into the visit. Oh well. It is okay.

I remember my niece visiting my sis in law who was on bed rest in the hospital reacting the same way. Luckily Claudia is very much still in the "love the one you are with" kind of stage. She has been spending time with grandparents on BOTH sides...who adore her as much as we do and have really stepped up to help us out.

The other hard part is being that I see a doctor 90+ minutes away from where we live, there is no one local to come visit me on a regular basis. Plus, when I got sent in on Friday night, I missed my parent's anniversary party on Saturday. The 40th anniversary party I planned and paid for and worked so hard on....luckily it still went off without a hitch and I think everyone had a great time. I am not pouting about it too much it is just my parent's have given me SO much, I wanted to be there to give them something back.

I am not on strict bed rest, I get monitored about 4 times a day but they want me up and walking. I have a feeling I will be spending a lot of time in the gift shop. And online shopping. Claudia's bday is in 2 months and I can start to plan that.

Right now, an amnio is scheduled for 10/9 and if this little dude's lungs are mature, out he will come. That is 2 weeks from today. Did I mention that nothing is prepared at home? As in... nothing. But, I am okay with it. I really am. The control freak in me really wants his room DONE. The bouncy seat back from my sis in law's house, the bottles cleaned...oh, the infant car seat? I have no idea where the newborn insert is and that means I am going to have to try to get Craig to find it.

But, all in due time. None of that is "important". Right now, we will just hope for the best and be thankful I am able to be here.

2009-09-18T06:53:00.000-07:00

Just checking in really quick, whoa. This pregnancy is kicking my butt. So far, baby boy is hanging in okay, monitoring is going okay...we have had some ups and downs but HE seems to be doing well in this moment. It is very much on a day to day basis and can, and probably will, change at the drop of a hat.

Me? Not so much. I am being monitored pretty heavily for pre-eclampsia (I had it with Claudia, but after she was born which was scary enough.) I have had a general unwell feeling for weeks, anxiety attacks, racing heart, whatever. I was on a heart monitor for awhile.

It has been bad. I can't really take care of Claudia on my own. I pretty much just lay low each day, hoping it passes so we can get to mid October and hopefully have a screaming baby in our arms. It is really hard not to feel physically good because in both of my previous pregnancies (Curtis and Claudia) I have physically felt really well.

Weighing on my mind these last few weeks has been preschool. I have a lot of friends with 3 year olds who all started preschool in the last few weeks. Would Curtis have started preschool? Would he have been ready? A simple 2 or 3 day a week program? Would he be potty trained? What would it have been like to drop him off on his first days?

I see pictures. Grinning kids, too big smiles, backpacks the same size as them. What kind of backpack would he have picked? Would he cry when we dropped him off or would he have ran straight ahead without a glance back?

It is hard to picture him as a 3 year old. He is so much my tiny baby still, the tiny baby I was so afraid to hold and move. The tiny baby who I only saw his face.... my tiny baby who should at least have had the option of going to preschool this year.

2009-09-07T18:19:00.000-07:00

I don't even know where to begin.

I don't even want to blog (obviously, since I haven't posted since August 21st...) but my anxiety and stress are at an all time high. I admit, I am not handling it well, at all. When we returned from meeting with the research doctor I knew we had a long road in front of us. My anxiety and stress has always been there. Through Claudia's pregnancy it was hard. I admit.

The beginning of this pregnancy was easier. It really was. Then we hit viability and I started getting more anxious again. A lot sleepless nights. Waking and pacing the house until I felt the baby move. Afraid to pull out the doppler in case....well, in case there was no heartbeat to be found.

After coming back home from our trip where we learned this guy had a cord issue, I had to go to the hospital one night. It wasn't so much for the baby, it was for me. My heart was racing, I was dizzy...my blood pressure was up. We went to a local hospital, close by, not one where my OB is. I actually knew the baby was fine, I just was worried about myself. What was going on? The monitored the heck out of the baby, gave us ultrasounds, and basically sent me home. I was pretty upset as I know they chalked it up to anxiety barely running any tests on me and figured it would calm me down to run tests on the baby. Yeah, not really. I did have a few tests run (after hours of being there) and they thoughts things were fine, but my OB didn't like the results of my thyroid levels and put me on a low dose of meds. An out of whack thyroid can cause light headed stuff/heart racing stuff.

I don't know what to think anymore. I have no idea what is "in my head" and what is real. I have had times where I feel my heart race increase again. I haven't felt like myself. I have a hard time being the only one in charge of Claudia because I am so afraid of having some type of panic set it. Saturday Craig was taking a nap and I got Claudia up from her nap and as she was eating a snack I started to feel very panicky. I paced around the house, breathing quickly through my mouth, trying to calm myself down. .

Actually, it was kind of funny because Claudia started to imitate my breathing from her chair.

It lasted on and off that evening. I don't even know if my heart was racing much, but I just had this overall unsettled feeling. During these times I am constantly jumping up and pacing.

During the times it isn't happening, I am wondering when it is going to happen again. I am quickly seeing why people become agoraphobic and refuse to leave their house. I am not keen on leaving the comfort of my house right now. Claudia is still attending daycare and when I pick her up at 4:30 each day, I stress until Craig comes home. Just in case it happens again. On Wednesdays we don't have daycare...she has been going to my mom's because I am afraid of being alone with her.

Do you know how bad that sucks? I am her mom and I am afraid to be alone with her. I cried today as her and Craig went to the mall playland without me. I was tired and napping and she needed to go run....but, I knew I couldn't handle being out. Not now.

Monitoring this guy has been stressful, we have had some ups and downs with it....that isn't helping my anxiety. Looking back, Claudia's monitoring each night was a dream! (Didn't feel like it at the time, but she was.) She was the perfect baby on the monitors and this guy has decided to give us all a lot more headaches. We have been close to being sent in to the hospital a few times now.

So.... that is where I am at. I keep telling myself I will take all the anxiety in the world to avoid the grief later. And, I am hoping this is just it..I am hoping it is anxiety manifesting itself into physical symptoms. It never happened in Claudia's pregnancy or any other area of my life. I have ALWAYS been an anxious person. Always. Always the worrier. But it has never set in where I am physically pacing the house, racing heart rate, trying to talk myself "down". So, I am hoping to goes away when this guy comes. Hopefully in a bit over 5 weeks.

Please, let that be it. Because if this continues after this baby is born...I don't know anymore. I will not take anti anxiety meds while pregnant, no way, no how. After I will would try them though if this continues.

2009-08-21T17:56:00.001-07:00

I am seriously slacking here, but for a good reason. This pregnancy has become very all consuming.

We have discovered this little guy has a cord issue, which is keeping in line with the research that shows cord issues can and do repeat. (yes! There is research! No, cord accidents are not flukes.)

I know I haven't gotten to the point in 'our story' where I talk about working with the research doctor and nightly monitoring...but we are doing it again in this pregnancy and just started it recently, where we discovered this little guy's cord issue. I took the news hard, but determined.

It is hard. It is hard knowing the same issue that took Curtis' life is repeating, yet again, in this pregnancy. But at the same time I KNOW this time, I know how to monitor it, I have the tools to prevent it. Just like with Claudia. I know we prevented a disaster last time and it was all worth it.

It is still very exhausting to go through this again.

I am off of work now, I made it 9 weeks longer than I did with Claudia, but with the anxiety and many appointments each week, it is just better to have my work not count on me until after the baby comes and my thoughts are not constantly is-he-still-alive-inside-of-me.

So, that is where I am at. BUT...now that I am off of work, I really will have some time during the day to blog a bit, I would love to get Claudia's story finished up before this little guy comes. Because I am going to want to write his story too!

2009-07-29T17:55:00.000-07:00

Our Story: Part 27

After hearing the h/b (left off after hearing the heartbeat around 12 weeks in my pregnancy after losing Curtis and my miscarriage).

So, Craig wanted to tell people. I did too, sorta. I mean...telling people meant questions. Telling people meant causing THEM worry. Telling people meant it being OUT THERE.

There was also the issue with the doctor. I never wanted to see my old OB, the one I had with Curtis, again. While I don't blame him for what happened to Curtis, I do blame him for the cruddy way he handled the loss, the way he handled my miscarriage, and the way he handled my new pregnancy. (Saying "We will do nothing different this time" did not sit well. Isn't that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result?)

Thanks to the conference, I had learned there were a few doctors out there open to the emerging research about cord issues repeating. I was given the names of two. One, I was told, would be there. She wouldn't just pretend to believe me, she would be me. She was amazing. I was told to go to her, despite the fact it would be close to a 2 hour drive to see her each time. The other doctor, I was told, was just as good. But a little bit more unreachable. A little bit more clinical. She would work with us, but I got the feeling she was more humoring her patients. She was much closer in location.

I did not want to be humored. Craig wanted the doctor who was closer. Who cared if she humored us as long as we got answers? I didn't want someone to pat me on the head, roll her eyes, and order me the tests. I wanted someone who believe me. I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to have to dig in my heels and insist.

I just wanted it to happen. Craig agreed to meet with the far away doctor, because it is what I wanted. I guess, in a way, he was humoring me. I emailed this doctor and we set up an appointment for 14 weeks. Just 2 weeks away.

In the mean time, my mom's birthday approached. She ended up being alone the weekend of her birthday due to some crazy circumstances that my dad had gotten himself roped into. Craig and I offered to take her out to dinner. My grandparents decided to come along, then asked if she could change the time of her birthday dinner so they could scoot off to another party.

My poor mom. First my dad has to leave on her birthday, then her birthday dinner time gets moved...she was feeling pretty bummed.

I informed Craig we should tell. I wasn't sure if I was quite ready. But I figured she would love the surprise and the first of getting to "know". I bought a birthday card for her that said "To Grandma". I signed it "Love, Curtis and Baby #2 due in December."

We arrived at my parent's house and were lingering around, waiting to leave for dinner.

"Open your cards!" I insisted. I thrust the grandma on in her hands.

My stomach was in knots. My heart was racing.

She opened it and stared.

And stared.

She was squinting at it.

She didn't have her glasses on. She was trying to figure out what it said.

'What is it I am reading?" She asked.

Sigh. Typical. Big huge news and she couldn't read it.

"Happy Birthday. Love, Curtis and Baby #2 Due in ...."

She let out a scream like I have NEVER heard before. It wasn't really an excited scream. It wasn't terrified. It was just a SCREAM. She dropped the card, buried her head in her hands and started to sob. Hysterical sobs.

I looked at Craig. He looked at me. "Hug her." He mouthed to me.

I shook my head no. I had no idea what this reaction was. Was it good? Was it bad? What was it?

After a few moments she flung her arms around us. "I thought that is what it said! But I wasn't sure. I thought maybe you signed the dog's name to it! I didn't want to assume."

I was overwhelmed at her excitement. I thought the news would be met with more reservations. Excitement, but cautious. Not this unbridled all out happiness.

We went to dinner and shared the news with my grandparents. Later that afternoon, while my dad was on his way home, my mom called him and made me tell him the news over the phone. He later told me it was hard to stay on the road when he had tears in his eyes.

We left my parent's house and Craig was practically bouncing out of his seat. "Can we go to my family now?"

I couldn't deny him this. We had told my family, there was a good reaction....but i felt that headache setting in. That overwhelming feeling. The "what have we done" emotions rolling in.

We live a good 50 minutes away from my inlaws. We usually just don't 'show up' out of the blue. However, they didn't seem phased that we were on their step at 8pm on a Sunday night. My mother in law starts telling us a crazy story that happened earlier in the day to her and my father in law. It was a pretty funny story but it kept going and going. She was totally oblivious we had news to share. The longer the story went, the more my throat felt like it was closing.

Craig finally had enough. When his mom stopped to take a breath, he jumped in and said "Well, do you want some more news?"

My father in law put down his glass of brandy, very serious, and said "Yes." quite loudly.

"The due date is in December."

The response was overwhelming. A lot of hugs, happy tears, and more hugs. Lots of questions. His mom saying 'Why did you let me talk for so long? Geesh! I just kept talking and talking!" We walked across the street to where my brother in law and sister in law live and told them the news.

Everyone was SO happy.

We left our inlaws and Craig called another one of his brothers and told them the news. Lots of celebrating on their end.

After he hung up the phone, I burst into tears. It was all so...so....soooo much. I wasn't expecting it all. I was expecting them to be excited, yes, but I wasn't expecting such an outpouring of emotion. I was expecting them to be cautious or worried (which I am sure they were...) but they were so happy. In that moment, they were happy.

As we drove on the car, I continued to cry. The headache came on full force. Now they were all involved. Now it meant this was real. We were traveling down this road together. Now if something sad happened again, it meant bringing them down with us. But they needed to know. They deserved to know. We needed the support. They had been wonderful in supporting and remembering Curtis with us. But it was hard. Just so hard. I didn't want them disappointed again.

2009-07-03T18:22:00.000-07:00

Hi.

How are you?

It has been a long few weeks. Good things, scary things, More good though.

I need to jump into the here and now though. As always, I will return to the Our Story posts because I like getting all of this down, but I also want to talk about something that has been weighing on my mind, very heavily.

As I mentioned previously, I am pregnant. I am a little over 22 weeks and a few weeks ago we have our "big" 20 week ultrasound. By big, I mean we find out the gender. We find out how everything in the pregnancy is progressing. I have a Level II which is a 'high risk' one where they take and even more in depth look at the baby.

I had this appointment, June 18th, booked for over 2 months. That date lingered in my mind. I was sitting at my friend's wedding on April 18th thinking "two months from today...". Work documents, commercials, any talk about mid June my mind went to the ultrasound.

I haven't blogged about this yet, but at 20 weeks with Claudia was where things got very stressful. So that was always on my mind.

Enter June 18th. Craig and I both took the day off and headed to my ultrasound. We had a scare earlier in the week as well where I heard some fetal arrhythmia's on my home doppler. I was freaked out. I had talked to my doctor, they would make sure to do a fetal echo cardiogram on the ultrasound. They would figure it all out.

There we were. Me, on this table in a darkened room. A screen in front of me. The tech was all chatty. "Are you going to find out the gender?"

"Uh, yeah."

Gender? Great, yes, finding out the gender is fun. But what I wanted to tell her is "I want to find out if the baby is healthy."

Realistically, I know this ultrasound can't predict a healthy, living, full term pregnancy. I have multiple perfect ultrasounds with Curtis and we didn't take him home. But, in that moment I wanted to know everything is okay.

A few minutes into the ultrasound, she scans between the legs. Now, thanks to my years on baby message boards I have seen a lot of ultrasound pictures. Plus, I have had a boy and a girl ultrasounds. If given a clear shot, I can tell.

"That is a boy."

I was the one who said it, even before the tech got the words out. I saw it, and I do mean IT, clear as a day. No mistaking. Craig grinned and said "How did you even know what you were looking at?"

I don't care about gender. I honestly don't. But I was shocked. Hard core shocked. I was convinced the baby was going to be a girl. I had a feeling after we lost Curtis, not a bad feeling, but just a feeling I would only have girls. I did wonder, deep down, if this baby would be a boy. But I was fairly certain it was a girl. I didn't care. I had images of toddlers in matching Christmas dresses and teenage girls fighting over the bathroom.

The next hour the tech took all the measurements, telling me what looked good, what she was measuring. The doctor came in, started jabbering away, saying he looked 100% healthy and we had nothing to worry about. He also said some total jerky stuff like "Bad things don't happen twice." (um, why don't you talk to women who have had multiple stillbirths, then? Because there are women who have had this happen twice.) He also said it was "Better to have the girl first." Which just isn't factually true for us, we had the boy first.

But...I was in a good mood. The baby, in this moment, looked healthy. We found out the gender. We wanted to celebrate as a couple. So, I didn't say anything. Because this doctor I would never see again (he is not my doctor, he belongs to the high risk group). I just wanted the hell out of that room.

Craig and I carried on our tradition of going to pick out a few outfits. A boy. A boy. A boy. I hadn't allowed myself to even glance at the blue section of baby sections in years. 3 years to be exact. I had learned to avoid and head straight for the pink.

We told our families that night. They were very excited for us, my mom cried, my father in law jumped up and commented it was time we had a boy with the girl boom recently (Claudia and my niece who is 10 months) which led me to have mixed emotions. How would everyone had reacted if it was "another" girl? Would they have been AS excited?

I know I would have.

And then as we have told other people the last few weeks, I knew it would happen. The comments we would get.

"Now you have a girl AND a boy." Well, no. We have 2 boys and a girl.

"You are so lucky to get one of each!" Well, no. We have 2 of one and one of another.

"You will have the perfect little family!" No, we won't. Perfection is having all your children on Earth.

"So excited about the birth of your first son!" No, he is the second! Trust me. I gave birth to Curtis. I was there. I remember.

"When number two comes..." No, actually. Number 3.

"So great Claudia will have a brother." Now, I know she doesn't have a brother in a traditional sense, but once again...factually it is not true.

Craig heard something about his 'first' son as well.

And on and on and on.

I knew those comments would come. I cannot let them go. I am kind about them, I do not get on my high horse. But I will say "Nope, number 3!" Or "Well, we have a little boy who died, so he will be our second son and we are very thrilled he looks healthy."

But those little comments really bother me. I think anyone, anywhere with kids get gender comments. My cousin has 4 girls and I am sure she is ready to strangle the next person who does the "Hohoho, just you wait until the teenage years!" comments. Or my friend who is pregnant after having 2 boys who hears "I bet you are hoping for a girl this time!" I bet she wants to scream....she tried for a baby. Not a gender. Like she is going to ask for the kid to be put back in if it is not the 'correct' gender?

It is an odd sense of emotions to be expecting a boy after losing a boy. Like I say, for me it was a win/win situation. I WANTED a girl, because I wanted Claudia to have a sister, I wanted to see two little girls grow up together. Share that bond. Plus, I love our girl's name we had picked out. I WANTED a boy, to experience dirt and firetrucks (yeah, totally gender stereotyping here.) and getting to experience a son on Earth.

How could I *not* win in a situation like this?

One day, in the future...as we are out as a family of 4 (please, please please...) some other people will see us and think "One girl, one boy...perfect little family" but we will always know that isn't true. Our family chain is forever broken. There is a link. A link between us and Claudia that is forever missing. I just hope and pray people realize that things aren't always what they seem.

2009-06-14T18:28:00.000-07:00

Our Story, Part 26

Rest of Curtis' birthday/Heartbeat

(left off on Curtis' 1st birthday, 2006.)

The rest of the weekend away was exactly what we needed. We spent a lot of time swimming, talking, relaxing, and eating. We agreed that, as long as we could, we would go away for Curtis' birthday.

That first year, a lot of people remembered. We got flowers sent to us, we got stacks of cards, emails and phone calls. Everyone remembered and we loved it. Craig's side of the family went to the angel on his actual birthday, right at the time he was born (5:31pm) and took a picture and sent it to us.

As soon as we got home, I felt panic set in. I mean, it always had been there, but whoa. It was ramping up. I had made a typical 12 week appointment at my OB's office. The doctor who had delivered, and fumbled, Curtis' birth. the 12 week appointment was key to me. It was when I was going to get to hear the baby's heartbeat on the doppler. It was when we were going to have to make choices. Choices that could mean the difference, literally, between life and death.

I clearly remember the appointment was set for a Thursday. The date was my mom's birthday, June 7th. No one knew at this point I was pregnant, so I was a bit worried the date would forever become tainted for me.

I had nightmares about the doppler. I remember so clearly the doctor putting the doppler on my huge, swollen stomach and hearing....nothing. No placenta sounds, no blood flow sounds, no heart beat sounds. Nothing. Then, my heartbeat off in the distance and the doctor putting his fingers to my wrist to confirm it was MY heartbeat and not Curtis'. I remember him rushing off to get the ultrasound machine and Craig saying "Well, I heard the heartbeat." And me shaking my head, knowing he was gone, saying "no, that was mine."

We got to the doctor's office and I was shaking. Craig asked the doctor if we could skip the doppler and go directly to the ultrasound instead. He knew the doppler raised my anxiety. Dopplers mean searching over my (expansive!) stomach. Fumbling. Searching over and over. The doctor blew off his concerns and said "well, we can take a peek with the ultrasound after the doppler." and did his nervous laugh we had come to hate. Craig retried his approach. "It is just that the last time the doppler was used...."

Too late, he had the thing fired up and ready to go. I shook my head at Craig to let him know I was okay. He put the wand on my stomach and within seconds said "I hear it in the distance, I just need more gel." He applied for gel to the wand and there it was, loud as can be, sounds just like galloping horses.

Craig grinned. I breathed for the first time in weeks.

True to his word, the doctor wheeled in the ultrasound machine and we got a glimpse of our baby to be.

I asked to not have a pap smear, I was so afraid of disturbing anything. The doctor blew off my concern, again, and basically said no. I was pretty much on cloud 9, so I went with it. Looking back, it makes me mad. Just further proof this doctor was not who we needed.

He informed me that they would not be doing anything different in this pregnancy, that is was a fluke and they do not see this type of thing repeat. I could have a high risk ultrasound at 20 weeks, and be induced at 40 weeks.

I didn't bother to argue. I didn't bother to tell him I have read the research. I have MET the doctor doing the research. I have met women who have had multiple pregnancies with multiple losses and multiple cord issues. Because he would not believe me. He would not listen to me.

I needed, above anything, a doctor who would listen to me. A doctor who BELIEVED me.

Now that I had the heartbeat on the doppler, I had work to do. I had to rent a doppler so I could find the heartbeat when I needed an anxiety relief. I had to find this new doctor, and soon. I had a few ideas, a few people who had walked this walk before me that would help. I wasn't alone in this. But I needed to move, and quickly.

The doctor bid us goodbye and told us he would see us in 4 weeks. Not so much buddy.

With an ultrasound picture in hand, we gazed at our little bean in the parking lot. It felt good. There was a lot of stress and worry...but for a few minutes, just like the day I found out I was pregnant, I felt good.

Craig grinned at me. "So???" he said, practically bouncing. "When can we tell people? When can we tell my parents?"

Gulp. Tell people? As in let others know? Cause others to worry and stress and, on top of it, ask me a million questions?

I am not so sure about that.

2009-06-10T19:17:00.000-07:00

I actually want to take today's post and comment on some things/answer some questions that have come from my comments and email. You know, "ask me" kind of things. Except I have about 15 readers so that isn't many!

1) It wasn't my intention to add some big "SURPRISE" to my post about Curtis' birthday...I actually just wanted to explain about the 4th flower on his bricks. I try really hard to make his birthday about him and feel bad it came across that way.

2) Someone asked me if I thought his birthday hit harder this year because I am pregnant again and because of the age Claudia is.... I honestly don't think so. I was pregnant on his 1st birthday and I swear his birthday was ten times worse this year. I just think it is one of those things. You never know WHY it is bad. My theory was it wasn't bad last year because I was so wrapped up in Claudia. That could be true. It may not be since we are still pretty wrapped up in her! It could just be like anything....we have no idea which day will be horrible and which day won't. The things we don't think will be hard, will. And the thing I think will be easy, aren't. That is grief for ya. A big cluster mess of nonsense. ;)

3) Writing about Claudia's pregnancy has been slow going. It is HARD. Because the pregnancy was so darn awful. It pains me because Curtis' pregnancy was so darn EASY. So, that is why those posts have been slow to come. I so badly want to skim over all the bad stuff and get to the "YAY, she is here" post. But I can't. Because that isn't a true reflection of pregnancy after loss. So, that is why I have been struggling to post anything. I look back to where I left off and know the worst is to come. And, with my current pregnancy I am reaching the same point where things went south in Claudia's pregnancy (20 weeks) and well, let's face it, I am worried about those repeat issues.

4) Someone asked me recently if I get mad when someone compares my stillbirth to their miscarriage. They were grieving their 42 week stillborn baby girl and their sister compared her loss to her 6 week miscarriage. Now, I have had both. A miscarriage and a stillbirth. Yes, I get mad when people compare. Because you can't compare the two. They are different things. Much different. And each person's loss is probably the worse thing they have had happen to them. For me, losing Curtis was the single worst thing that has ever happened in the history of my life. My miscarriage wasn't. So, it does upset me because I feel the losses are different and are not comparable. A dear, wonderful friend of mine was trying to relate to me after I lost Curtis. She compared her break up with significant other of 9 years to the death of Curtis. Her break up was the worst thing that had happened to her. But...but.... can you imagine how that made me feel? She broke up with a jerk of a guy who deserved to be kicked to the curb and my son died inside of me and I had to endure 9 months of pregnancy and 5 hours of labor only to spend 4 hours with him. She was trying to be kind, she was trying to relate. But our losses are our own. I try to remember that when someone compares. I really do. I may not say anything to them in that moment. But I will probably vent to Craig or blog about it. Not because my loss is 'superior' to theirs, but because my loss is MY LOSS. No one else will understand my loss like I do. I own it, it is mine. I also try not to compare my loss to others...but sometimes I do. I try to make sure I keep my mouth shut. Because I know how much it hurts when others compare out loud!

5) ...and I have to end here for the night. I have a few more things I want to address, but some sleep is much needed. If anyone has any questions or whatever, please feel free.

2009-06-02T18:37:00.001-07:00

Curtis' birthday came and went fairly quietly. This was our 3rd year that we went up to northern MN to celebrate and remember our son.

This year, like I said before, has hit me especially hard. Taking the time away was exactly what we needed as a family. Our tradition is now going to build-a-bear and allowing Claudia to pick a bear to make. Well, in the future she can pick. Right now, we still have to pick for her. But she reached for two and we helped her narrow it down. She was _not_ happy when we took away the non filled bear away from her to get filled up. When we handed it back to her...she took off running with it, refusing to pose. I am pretty sure she was worried we were going to take it from her again:

After build-a-bear, we stopped at the Angel of Hope statue where Curtis has 3 paver bricks in his memory. Claudia was very over tired and not interested in posing:

We laid 4 flowers on Curtis' bricks. One from myself, one from Craig, one from Claudia, and one from a future sibling of Curtis' who will hopefully be born screaming in October of this year.

I also brought 4 flowers to lay in the angel's hands. One for Curtis, one for Aaron, one for Ethan, and one for Abbey (the red one! She is a girl, after all. The boys got blue!) I met their moms through our mutual losses. Aaron was born premature and lived 33 days before passing away the same day Curtis did, May 31st 2006. His mom, Nikki, and I knew each other online while we were both pregnant with our boys. We share this sad date, but have a great bond. I met Ethan's mom online. Ethan lived for 12 days from June 2nd to June 14th, 2005. He was born full term but inexplicably stopped breathing his first day on Earth. His mom is an amazing woman. Abbey is someone I have recently become acquainted with through her mom's blog. She and Curtis were due around the same time. She was born still 6 days after her due date, June 4th, 2006.

We tried to take a picture of the 3 of us, Claudia was not interested:

We drove to our condo later that day, and luckily Claudia did well the entire trip. Sadly, the weather was miserable (back home it was warm and sunny!) It was very windy and cold. On Curtis' actual birthday there was freezing rain! Okay, Minnesota is cold, but geesh!

Sunset from our condo our first night:

We spent the days together, as a family, lounging, swimming, and taking in the local restaurants. We talked about Curtis and the should have beens and what would it be likes. We talked little about the day we lost him but more about him in general, if that makes sense. We took a gondola ride up a mountain and sat on the shores of Lake Superior and were just a family....

We decided Curtis would insist on an ice cream cake. I mean, it is his mom and dad's favorite. Surely it would be his too. We hit the local DQ and found the perfect cake. We ate plenty, enough for us and him.

(Claudia has to wear the eye patch for opthamology issues. Don't worry!)

We came home on Monday. I was lucky to receive about 4 or 5 cards in the mail from various friends and that softened the 'blow' of returning to the real world. Knowing people back home were remembering Curtis meant the world.

It was a good weekend.

2009-05-25T18:04:00.001-07:00

I am finding it hard to believe it is May. I am finding it hard to believe it is almost the end of May and this weekend Craig, Claudia, and myself will go away for the weekend again to remember our baby boy and spend time as a family.

I have to admit, this month has rocked me to the core. And it took me by surprise. Mother's Day, which I thought wouldn't be that bad, was. I am constantly crying on my way home from work, before I pick up Claudia. I am having restless dreams and often wake at night.

Why? WHY this year? A friend once told me the 3s were hard.... 3rd week, 3rd month, 3rd year... maybe that was it?

Honestly, last year wasn't that hard. Because of her. Last year, Claudia was just over 6 months old on Curtis' 2nd birthday. We were very much in the 'every day we have you is a day we didn't have you last year' kind of world. There wasn't much time for grief. We were still in a lot of euphoria. That doesn't mean we didn't cry and talked about him: we did. We pulled out pictures and the DVD of pictures we made. We took Claudia to Build A Bear and made her a "Curtis Bear". (A tradition we plan to do every year for his birthday with her and any other child who decides to join our family...). We went to the Angel of Hope statue and visited his bricks. We did grieve...but I didn't spend the weeks and days leading up to his birthday in this...overwhelming sadness.

People hear we lost a son 3 years ago and they think "oh, that's too bad..." but they don't see what I see. I see a 3 year old, blond hair boy, with a bad hair colic and a dimple. Traits of his father. I see a kid asserting his independence, a kid I am trying to get to clean up his toys. A kid who would maybe want a Superman theme birthday or Wall E or whatever the hot thing is for three year old boys....but I am not sure what that is because I don't have a three year old. We would be debating if he should go to preschool in the fall or if he wasn't ready. We would be working on potty training, maybe his grandpa would take him to a ballgame, just the two of them.

Most people just see that little baby. Most of the time, I do too. But I know. I know he should be 3.

So, this year is hard. I have more time to think this year, more time to grieve. More time to wonder all the should haves and could have beens...the things people tell you not to linger on , but us loss parents. We do. We linger.

Because, lingering is a way of remembering. I remember. I grieve. This month is hard, these weeks and days have been overwhelming. Because I miss the baby boy I carried for 9 months and only got to hold for 4 hours. I miss the baby boy, but I miss the three year old I never met. The three year old he never had a chance to grow into.

2009-05-17T17:21:00.001-07:00

Our Story, Part 25

Curtis' Birthday

(left off just having a 6w6d u/s with our 2nd pregnancy after losing Curtis).

The discussion on "what to do" was rampant in our house. We knew we were DONE with the doctor who delivered Curtis. We knew we needed to find a new doctor. Part of me did not want to jump through hoops until I was in the 2nd trimester (14 weeks). I had a doctor's appointment set up with my current OB for 12 weeks. That was 5 weeks away. We decided we would make decisions at the time we could hear the heartbeat on the doppler. Then we would make the decisions that could get a child, a living child, in our arms.

So, we waited.

And told no one I was pregnant.

Each day was _hard_. I had no way of knowing if things were progressing. I had no way of knowing if that little heart was still thumping away. I knew women, I know women, who have lost babies at every single stage of pregnancy. There was no 'magic' time for me to get through, except birth.

On top of it all? We were rapidly approaching Curtis' first birthday. We didn't want to tell anyone until May had passed. We wanted, and needed, to make May about Curtis.

So, while Curtis' soon-to-be sibling grew inside of me, we prepared to celebrate the end of our first year without him. I don't mean celebrate in a bad way, but we had made it. We had made it a full year. We got through each holiday, each moment together. We grieved Curtis, we loved Curtis and we prepared for the inevitable host of emotions that would come with his birthday.

Craig put together a slide show of two of my favorite songs remembering Curtis. It showed me pregnant at 35 weeks, showed his room I had taken pictures of after we had put the finishing touches on it. It showed his shower cake. (Ironically saying "I'm On My Way")..it showed us with tear stained faces holding his little body. It showed him cuddled with his teddy bear. It showed his feet, being held by our nurse Kim. It showed his funeral. It showed his urn and us at the lake the day we spread his ashes. It showed the first memorial walk we attended with our "Team Curtis" tshirts. And on and on and on....

We packed a lot of celebrating, and grieving, into that year.

Our support group held a little birthday party for Curtis. We did a balloon release, we brought treats, we showed our video. It was a beautiful thing.

Craig and I decided we needed to get away for his birthday. His birthday landed on a Thursday so we took that day and the following Friday off. I researched various resorts and hotels in areas of Minnesota and surrounding states. We settled on the ski area of Lutsen, MN. It wasn't ski season so the prices for condos was cheap. We could get a one bedroom with a jacuzzi, something we could never afford normally.

The days leading up to Curtis' birthday were hard. Being pregnant was taking it's toll enough, dealing with his birthday about sent me over the edge.

Cards started to pour in, a lot of my friends from online communities remembered my little boy and sent us something. A wonderful woman sent us 2 plaques remembering Curtis.

We drove up to Lutsen on Curtis' actual birthday. I was up early, sitting on the couch when Craig woke up. He walked over and the first thing he said? 'Happy Birthday, Curtis."

It was the only time I cried all day.

We stopped at my parent's to drop off the dog, made idle conversation about nothing, and they handed us a card. We stopped at Craig's parents briefly for some reason. They, too, handed us a few cards. We were making polite chit chat and I found myself anxious. I wanted to be alone with Craig. I wanted out of the confines of having to make chit chat with people while my heart felt like it was going to burst.

We then drove to the Angel of Hope statue where Curtis has 3 bricks remembering him. We laid a white flower on his bricks and 2 flowers for friends of mine who had lost their children around the time we lost Curtis.

Then, we made our way to the lake. It wasn't on the direct path to our resort, but we wanted to go to where we spread Curtis' ashes the past summer. It was another beautiful day. We sat on the dock and talked about our little boy, talked about the day we spread his ashes. We took pictures of ourselves in the spot where his ashes had been spread. We set the self timer and took a silly picture of us laying on the dock together.

We were only there for about 30 minutes, but it was enough. We got in the car and started driving to our final destination.

We were actually in the car at 5:31pm, the time Curtis was born. I took a picture of the clock.

We arrived at our resort early in the evening. We were thrilled with what we found. A beautiful view of the mountain area, a private deck, and comfortable amenities. We sat on the couch together and opened the cards people had given us. Craig had written me a card with the sweetest, most heartfelt words. He spoke about how he knew how hard it had been on me, I had carried Curtis and given birth to him...he spoke of how proud he was of our boy and what he may be doing now if he had been born alive. I still read the card on a regular basis.

We spent the first evening enjoying our surroundings. Heading into town to buy a frozen pizza... swimming in the outdoor/indoor pool, watching the TV. Later in the evening, as we decided to start a fire in our fire place, I noticed the mantle above the fireplace had an inscription carved into the wood.

It said 'Rekindle Your Heart".

2009-05-08T18:06:00.001-07:00

Mother's Day Part II.

I am feeling less bitter today about it. We will see what happens on Sunday, but today I was at work and something happened.

I work with children with autism. I have for 10 years and I love the field. I love the kids. Many of the kids I work with don't respond well to their parents or families. They give little in the way of 'love' to mom and dad. They are attached to mom and dad, yes, but with their needs the parents often don't get some connection parents of typical children get.

We do a highly individualized therapy and it allows for little time to make flower pots or hand molds. A lot of our kids are older and have our services as opposed to school. A lot of our kids maybe have parents who have been laid off or dads who are not involved or other family situations where mom would possibly be ignored on Sunday. I had completely forgot about Mother's Day until about 3:45, 15 minutes before I was to leave. I wanted to 'give' these moms something from their kids. I instructed all the staff working to hurry up and have each of the kids make the moms a card. A lot of our kids cannot draw or hate to do so, so we helped them out.

I can relate, in a way, to some of these parents. They are grieving, hard core, for the way they thought their life was going to be. They gave birth to this perfect baby....and somehow their life turned into something they weren't expecting. They grieve for the dreams they had for their child, and they grieve for the way they thought their life was going to be.

So, I hope they take a look at those little cards we rushed together, and smile. Knowing that we know how much they love their children and that we are thinking about them.

I guess because I don't enjoy Mother's Day doesn't mean I don't want others to not enjoy it. That probably is 3 years (almost...) of perspective talking.

2009-05-06T18:05:00.000-07:00

So, I feel like I should blog about Mother's Day.

It is this weekend...and, I realllly couldn't care less about the holiday.

In 2006, I wasn't feeling well. I was close to 38 weeks pregnant and chose to stay home while Craig went to his parents for the day. No one, except my dad, acknowledged me, as a mom to be.

The following year, I was barely pregnant with Claudia. Weird. Pregnant over both holidays, with no baby in my arms. My husband gave me a 'I Love My Son' charm and that was so touching. We were not invited to a family gathering on my side (I stumbled on it when I went to drop a present for my mom. No one would even look at me. Yeah, it hurt. Whatever the 'reasons' for it. It hurt.)

Now, Mother's Day makes me feel _blah_. That is the best way I can describe it. _Blah_. Just... empty.

Last year, I had one request for Craig. I wanted a card, from Claudia, that said "To Mommy." That was it. I didn't want a bunch of other cards about what a good mom I was and all that jazz.

It is hard to want to celebrate a day when one of your children isn't here to celebrate it with. Plain and simple.

Well, last year, I was invited to Mother's Day gatherings! I got a bunch of cards from people. What did they say? "Happy FIRST Mother's Day."

Like hell it was! Those card infuriated me to no end. This was my second Mother's Day.

Those cards were just a reminder that people don't get it. Don't get that I was pregnant for 9 months, gave birth, held my son, and then held a funeral. Because he wasn't running around, I apparently wasn't granted the title of a 'mother' until I had a child who screamed at birth.

That is why I don't like Mother's Day. It is just another reminder one of my children is dead and the world forgets how a day, like Mother's Day, is extremely painful.

Now, as our daughter gets older...and makes me handmade cards or a flower pot in preschool, that will be all I want. I don't want anyone who is not my child decreeing my status as a mother.

But, for the most part, I just want to ignore the day. Yeah, lots of negativity.

2009-05-02T09:39:00.001-07:00

Last Sunday, Craig and I volunteered at the infant loss conference held by our local organization. Honestly, it is probably one of the only conferences out there like it. There were people who had flown in from Scotland to attend. So yeah, a big deal.

I blogged about attending the conference two years ago. It was on the cusp of Curtis' 1st birthday and we were just weeks from finding out I was pregnant with Claudia.

This year, we decided to volunteer. I guess I felt like I had learned everything at the previous conference and wanted to help out. Craig was assigned various tasks around the conference and I was assigned to be a room monitor while speakers were giving their presentation.

The first session I was monitoring was the one the founder was giving. It was to medical caregivers on how to give the best practice in the time of a loss. What is funny is my nurse who delivered Curtis was attending and was in the room. A couple of times I wanted to shout out "yeah! My nurses did that!" in agreement with the speaker. I decided that would be rude, but I did nod along with so many of the things they spoke about doing for patients in the time of loss. Like a card for the first birthday. Lock of the hair. Pictures. Holding the patients hand and explaining what exactly the baby may or may not look like to prepare the patient.

During the speech, the presenter showed a video she puts together when she attends a stillbirth. It is an amazing compilation of pictures and video shots, set to music. Everyone in the room cried and cried while watching it. It is something like that where I kick myself. See, we had a video camera with us that day. When we attended my 40 week appointment, I had my bags packed. Camera, video camera, pacifiers, diapers... I knew I wanted pictures, but remember thinking I didn't want video. Now, now I regret that. I would love to have video of me holding him... to see it 'live' like that. Sure, I have pictures, but I want to see me looking at my son, I want video shots of that moment.

Then, during the speech, I found out that in the state of Minnesota is it COMPLETELY LEGAL that a family takes their baby home. there are some hoops and paperwork you fill out, there is something that you contact the funeral home before leaving with the baby and they are aware of coming to pick up that baby. But you can. You can drive your baby home. You can bring your baby to the room you prepared for them. You can lay him in his crib and take pictures of him laying in the bedding you picked out for him. You can rock him in the rocking chair. You CAN TAKE HIM HOME.

I sobbed. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

After watching the movie Losing Layla and watching that family bring their daughter home and bathe her and hold her in her room ...all I have longed for was a moment like that. How jealous I was! Now, to find out that was an option? Just about did me in. I would have done that! I would have brought him home if I had known.

A few hours later, I realized I probably wouldn't have. I was so scared. I never even unwrapped him. I couldn't muster up the courage to ask a nurse to wrap him in a different blanket. The minute his little body started to change (about 4 hours after I had him) we had the nurse take him away. But then the next morning, I was heartbroken to find out he had been in the morgue all night when I thought he was already at the funeral home.

Would I have honestly brought him home? I don't know. I don't think so. But I like to think had I known then, what I know now...I would have. I would have wrapped him in the fuzzy blue blanket with basketballs and baseballs, put him in his car seat and brought him home.

Even if only for 10 minutes.

Because all I ever wanted was to bring him home with us.

2009-04-26T19:03:00.001-07:00

I am here.

I seem to posting more "I am here" posts and "I will catch up soon" posts than actual posts lately.

Sorry.

There are a few reasons for that. We have been sick AGAIN. My husband has been working like crazy and I am getting little time to sit and have free time where I can drum up all of the emotions it take to post 'our story' posts. And really, any of my posts. I was out of town for awhile for a friend's wedding. I participated in our infant loss conference this weekend and those emotions are swimming all over right now. (Another post for another time. It is a good one ;) )

Finally, in a month we will be celebrating our baby boy's 3rd birthday. Three. Frickin'. Years.

I know I have said this before, but I used to beg time to speed up, I knew it would be better 'in the future'. And it is. And it isn't. I am just more used to it now, which isn't a bad thing and does help. Claudia's pregnancy was probably the longest stretch of time in my life. I used to bed time to speed up then and here she is....17 months....and I am sitting here wondering what has happened to time?

I wish I was a blogger who posted every day like many of my favorite bloggers do. But, with the nature of this blog, I don't always have the emotions to post like I would need to be a daily blogger. this blog is truly about stillbirth and pregnancy after stillbirth and sometimes my day to day mundane life (that I love) hasn't much to do with it. I hope my few readers continue to read, despite my sporadic posts. But I understand those of you who have lost interest.

2009-04-05T17:47:00.000-07:00

Well, something happened this weekend and I don't know what to make of it.

I am one of those parents that do all the Easter Bunny and Santa kind of things. I love it. This weekend, we wanted to take Claudia to the Easter Bunny and get a picture taken. I was _fully_ prepared for her to scream bloody murder. She is 16 months old. Face it, it is a giant rabbit with bow tie. That can be kind of freaky to kids! But, I am also the type of mom who would think a crying picture of her with a giant rabbit would be kind of funny too. To keep, to look back on one day and laugh. (No, I don't want to make her miserable or anything.)

So, off we went. We got her picture taken. She did great, by the way. LOVED the bunny. Smiled at him, patted at him, willingly sat in his lap and we got some cute pictures of her smiling.

I was pretty thrilled. We got a cute picture of her with Santa this past Christmas and now a cute picture of her with the bunny. Fun!

Later that night, it hit me.

2 years ago, it was the 1st Easter since we lost Curtis. It was right before I found out I was pregnant with Claudia. I was walking in the mall and caught sight of that stupid rabbit. It hit me like a ton of bricks I didn't have my 10 month old with me to get those silly pictures. I never would have him with me. I broke down and we had to leave the mall right away. I had successfully avoided the mall at Christmas time to avoid seeing the Santa and Christmas stuff. But holidays kept coming, and Easter was another rude awakening.

Then, at the end of 2007 and all of 2008, whenever we would do a "first" with Claudia, I thought about Curtis. How we never got to do that event with him. We never got to take him to see the bunny. Never got to go to the zoo. Never got a Halloween costume for him. No baptism. No July 4th picnic. No swimming. On and on...whatever her first, it would remind me he never had one.

So, this year when we took her to the bunny. The fact that Curtis should be there never even crossed my mind. I was excited to take her to see the bunny, then she did so well, so I emailed that picture out so quick and uploaded it to facebook to show the world.

Later, over dinner with Craig, tears filled my eyes. He asked what was wrong.

"I think this is the first event I have taken her too where I didn't immediately think 'Curtis should have gotten to do this'. That fact never even crossed my mind until now. "

Is this how it is going to be now? That I will find the ultimate happiness in that exact moment and remember later? Is that good? Because it doesn't feel good.

I gotta tell you, the guilt I felt all night last night was not easy to stomach. I should have an almost 3 year old go running and screaming from that giant rabbit. And it didn't even hit me until later.

I don't even know how to process it.

2009-03-27T18:21:00.001-07:00

Our Story: The first u/s of her

Part 24?? (I need to check!)

After the conference was over, I started to panic.

Well, that is an understatement.

Every moment of my waking hours (and some sleeping) I was obsessed. Was everything okay? What if I miscarried, again? Could I last another 7 days until my ultrasound?

I took pregnancy tests every single day.

Yes, it was expensive. But I needed SOMETHING.

I don't get morning sickness. I don't. I didn't with Curtis and I didn't with this pregnancy. I prayed for morning sickness. I know people want to throw things at me now that I admitted this, and with Curtis I was pretty damn pleased I felt so good. But with this pregnancy I wanted SOMETHING to tell me I was pregnant. I wanted a sore chest. I wanted mood swings. I wanted to puke.

I had an appointment set up with my doctor, the one I had when I lost Curtis, set up for close to 8 weeks. I would have an ultrasound to make sure things were growing okay. Implanted okay.

One day, at work, I took another pregnancy test. It was a daily habit. I knew I needed to stop. but...I needed SOMETHING.

The test line was light.

I had been testing for 3 weeks now. The lines had always been dark.

I start to shake. I had been having some cramps...nothing BAD...but...

Deep breaths. I get through the next few hours and make it to my next client's house. As I pulled in, I realized I couldn't wait. I couldn't do it anymore.

I mulled it over in my head. "Do I call? Do I try to get in earlier?"

I called. My doctor was out, do I want to talk to the other doctors?

Yes.

I lied. I told them I was having severe cramping and spotting.

Yes, I lied. I didn't care. I told them I lost a baby at 40 weeks, I lost one to miscarriage. I needed help. Even if there was nothing they could do, I needed to know. I cried.

So, yeah, I lied. I don't care and I would do it all over again if I had to.

They got me an appointment at 3:30.

I made an excuse to my client's and shook the entire 45 minute drive to the clinic.

I didn't call Craig. I didn't want to worry him. I didn't want him to panic. Plus, I had lied. Now, he isn't the truth police or anything, but I just didn't want to tell him I basically made it all up because of a pregnancy test. My 50th or so this pregnancy.

They got me in quickly. While taking my vitals and getting the ultrasound machine ready the doctor and the nurse were having this conversation.

"Did you hear about the woman who got punched into the stomach and went into labor?"

"Yeah, my wife was the nurse on that case. It is just unreal."

"Yeah, I don't know if she was abused. I don't think the baby is okay"

At this point I piped up (it was a popular news story in our area) "No, it was a set up. Her boyfriend paid the guy to punch her. I think she lost the baby. You guys do know I lost a baby at 40 weeks and a conversation like this really bothers me?"

I had to lay back on the table. I felt so exposed. I was so early they had to go a vaginal ultrasound. I was trying to keep my legs from shaking.

I refused to look at the screen. The last ultrasounds I had were Curtis and his still body. My miscarriage and not a baby in sight.

"There we are. Everything is fine. Measuring 6 weeks, 6 days. Just one! Tiny heart beat. Look!"

I was stunned. I really was.

"Your bleeding and severe cramping are probably just the baby settling in. No biggie. "

Or, it could be the gigantic lie I told.

The doctor was all smiles. I said how happy I was. I said it is hard, I lost a baby at 40 weeks, I know how wrong it can all go. But for now, I am happy.

He said yes, and since it is so rare, no research is being done. I tell him that isn't true. It isn't rare. One of of 100 isn't rare. There is research. There are studies. I can get him the research from the organization I have worked with. He ignores this and repeats there is no research and it won't happen twice. I say I know people it has happened to twice.

What does he say?

"Well, you know, it can always be worse. At least it wasn't SIDS as an infant, or a drowning as a toddler or a car accident as a teenager. Just remind yourself of that. There is always something worse out there."

I think my mouth hung open.

He hands me my little ultrasound picture and walked out the door.

To this day, I hate the man. He is ranked one of the top doctors for women in our area. I fantasize about writing a letter. Even years later, I can clearly hear his words.

Yes, of course SIDS and drowning and car accidents are horrid. But that is not what I know. What I know is being pregnant 40 damn weeks. What I know is coming home to a house filled to the brim with baby boy clothes and strollers and swings. I know going through labor, the blood, the stitches to only hold my son for 4 hours.

I do not know SIDS or car accidents.

I know this. This is my "worst" this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I cannot compare. They are apples to ....cars! You cannot compare them. Each are separate things. I cannot shrug my shoulders and skip out the door singing "it can always be worse!"

It really ruined a nice moment. It robbed me of seeing my daughter (unknown to me) the first time. I remember little of seeing that tiny bean on the screen and remember more the conversation about the woman getting punched and the "hey, it could be worse!" slap in the face. I remember more about him brushing off the research I knew was happening. I remember more how horrified I was that an OB doctor didn't know how to deal with a grieving, so deeply grieving, pregnant woman.

I got in the car and called Craig. I needed to tell him. I needed to tell him our baby had a heartbeat and in this moment, despite that jackass of a doctor, things were okay.

He was on the golf course.

"So, babe, yeah...I was panicking and ended up in the doctor's office."

"You okay???"

"Yeah, there is a heartbeat. Things are good."

"You don't sound okay. "

"I am okay. It is just... well, I will tell you later. But the baby is okay. In this moment, we are okay."

And we were.

But now that I was 0 for 2 in doctors, how was I going to find a good one?

2009-03-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

I have been MIA again.

Round two of the stomach flu hit us. I guess I got kind of cocky. We had it once, back in January. Both Claudia and myself. So I thought we were in the clear. Everyone and their dog has been getting it recently, but we already had it. So when Claudia woke with a fever, I didn't think much of it. Just teeth or another cold, I thought.

She started puking the next day and didn't stop for another week. I got hit with a mild round too.

It was lots of fun, let me tell you.

I do not handle her being sick well. Sure, I can care for her just fine, but it causes me to break down. Every single time. There is the guilt for working part time and sending her to daycare. She wasn't sick a single day of her life until she went to daycare. In the past 7 months she has been in daycare, she has been sick practically every other week. I am so tired of hearing how it will "build up her immunity" too. Everyone says this. My parents, my grandparents, friends, relatives, strangers... it actually sounds like a bunch of crap to me. Everytime I say with a sigh 'She is sick, again." someone spouts this off. All I care about is how sick my baby is all the time. Not what may or may not happen in the future.

I don't know why I can't handle her illness better. This is what I signed up for. This is what I missed with Curtis. Surely he would have gotten sick. There is just this element that you cannot protect them from and illness is one of them.

It is just hard to see your baby in misery. (Over and over).

I will be back soon with another our story post :) I just wanted to check in now that we are all slightly on the mend.

2009-03-04T14:47:00.001-08:00

Extreme Home Makeover this past week spotlighted a neat woman who takes pictures of premature infants at her local hospital. In many cases, it is the only pictures the family ends up with as many of their babies do not make it. They didn't mention if she does bereavement photography, if there was a stillbirth that had taken place or the premature infant had died before she got there. I hope she does.

When we found out Curtis was gone but before I delivered him, I knew I wanted pictures. I had spent some time on baby message boards and knew of a few woman who had stillbirths and had gotten pictures of their babies. They were not friends then, I just had followed their stories. (However, they are friends now.)

I remember sitting in my hospital room chanting to myself "We will get to hold him. We will get to take pictures." I later said it out loud to Craig who said "Really? Oh. Okay." He didn't know. But I did.

Reading their stories.... Knowing something about stillbirth and what takes place after the baby is born at least prepared me a bit. Craig wasn't prepared at all. I think knowing I would get to see him and hold him helped me in those first hours after I found out he was gone but before he was born.

I am forever grateful to the women who went before me on this path. For paving the way to understand. It wasn't that long ago that they whisked the baby away and the mother wasn't allowed to see or hold her baby. I cannot imagine the ache those mothers must feel to this day. They felt that baby move for months inside of her, but then she wasn't even allowed to look at the baby. She was told to forget that baby. That she could have another. Like her cookie fell on the floor. "Well, just get another!"

Some of those women have changed minds....funerals are now held. Pictures are taken. The baby is introduced to family. The baby is named and, in some states we are allowed to get a Birth Certificate Resulting in Stillbirth.

I am grateful, to this day, for the women who fought so hard. Because of them I was able to hold my son, get as many picture of him as I wanted, have a blessing with a minister, and for the most part no one has told me to forget my son. I had a wonderful nurse who sat with me through the whole experience and made sure I had as many memories of my son as possible.

When a woman like the one who was spotlighted on Extreme Home Makeover, or a group like Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep or Candy from MissingGRACE takes the time to help grieving families in their darkest house it makes me hopeful. It sounds odd, but it is easy to get bogged down in a world that is so unfair and filled with negativity. But there are people out there trying to better it, so we do not have to walk alone in our grief. Maybe those women had to be alone in their grief and they saw a need. Maybe it is part of their coping, part of their healing. For them, I am grateful.

2009-02-24T17:22:00.000-08:00

Our Story: Part 23: The conference

The first few weeks of my pregnancy with my daughter are a blur of pregnancy tests and thoughts racing.

"My side hurts, I think it is an ectopic."

"This test, the line isn't as dark as the test 2 days ago."

"How in the world am I going to ever find a doctor who I trust?"

But, rapidly approaching was the first infant loss conference we were going to attend. This was going to be a big deal because there was a fundraising banquet one night where we had purchased a table in memory of Curtis. The research doctor was going to be there. We would be able to meet him, talk with him, and figure out a plan of attack.

Now, all of this was planned before we found out I was pregnant, but being pregnant at the same time made the event even more of an emotional roller coaster.

We had chosen not to tell our families I was pregnant. It was early, so early, and the pressure of everyone knowing? I just couldn't handle it. A few friends knew, because I needed someone to email with, but that was it.

The conference was amazing. We volunteered to help out the night before so Craig and I took on various tasks of getting the conference together. The next morning, we made our way downstairs to attend our first session. Some of the first people I see are Kim and Mary Beth. Kim, being our nurse who delivered Curtis. It was wonderful to see them, but threw me off my focus a bit. I was so much thinking about the research doctor and this pregnancy, seeing the person who was the first to hold Curtis shook me a bit.

We attended a few sessions that day. One was dealing with grief as a couple. One was a panel talking about the research the doctor had done with them and how their living children were born. (Each couple had dealt with a stillbirth or cord related death). It was there I met with my friend who ran this even and told her I was pregnant and so scared. She placed her hand on my stomach. Which doctor should I see? Where should I go? She strongly suggested a doctor that was 90 miles away. She is amazing. She has dealt with our pregnant women after a stillbirth.

The next session we went this this _amazing_ woman who had never spoke about her losses before. She has had 5. Stillbirth at 22 weeks, m/c at 16 weeks, m/c 13 weeks, m/c 17 weeks, and stillbirth 20 weeks. They don't know why she keeps having them. She is a pastor and talked about all of the doubts, anger, hatred she has had towards God. It was so awesome. That sounded funny... I mean it was awesome to hear a pastor be angry at God and doubt her faith. Her speech was so moving and so painful, I cried through the whole thing. I know she was on the fence about speaking about it all publicly but did amazing. We also attended one given by the research doctor and it answered a lot of questions we had about what steps we would take in our next pregnancy.

Our friends and family arrived later that night and joined us at the banquet. It was an emotional time. Our table set up for Curtis was beautiful. We had a lovely centerpiece with a candle, etched into it was his name. It still sits on our dining room table. A local, popular, weatherman was the MC for the event and told his story. He lost his son 5 days after birth. Being an identical twin, he talked about his living son and watching him grow up without his brother. Our US Senator got up and spoke about his two infant losses and the need for support like our organization. Some others got up and told their stories, there were a lot of tears.

The next day at the conference, Craig and I watched the movie Losing Layla. It was one of the hardest things I have ever watched. A journalist had documented her pregnancy step by step hoping to make a documentary about what having a baby does to a couple. During delivery, the baby ended up in distress, and inhaling merconium. She ended up dying hours after she was born. The journalist continued to document their grief process. It was like watching my life played out in the screen. I sobbed and sobbed through it. Later, at the closing ceremonies there was a beautiful balloon release. I leaned into Craig's shoulder and he just held me.

I remember the long drive home that day. For whatever reason, Craig and I had two cars so we drove separate. I had stopped to pick up the dog. I came in the house emotionally spent. It was so much to process and so much to think about. Craig was sitting on the couch, in the dark living room. "It feels like May 31st, all over again. Feels like we just walked in without him again."

That was what the conference had done, brought everything back to the surface for the both of us.

2009-02-22T06:48:00.001-08:00

I really haven't had much of an issue with pregnant woman. Even right after I lost Curtis. Sure, there were some incidents where I was bothered. Usually more when I happened to overhear some type of conversations. But, for the most part, I was okay with seeing someone pregnant. I guess I should explain that as long as they looked happy, of age, not screaming at 10 other kids... I was okay with it.

But more often than not, I felt sorry for them. I would shake my head and think "you have NO idea how wrong it could all go."

As time moved on, I still thought that but I started realizing maybe they *did* know how wrong it could all go. Maybe they had multiple miscarriages. Maybe they had struggled with infertility. Maybe they had a stillbirth. Maybe their friend had one. That made me feel a little less sorry for them and helped me cope.

Yesterday afternoon, I was in Target with Craig and Claudia. I happened to wander away and was in the book/video area. There was a pregnant woman with her husband looking at the baby books and they were obviously registering for baby supplies.

My first thought?

"I should tell them to register for Baby Einstein videos!"

Not feeling sorry for them. Not having to go through possible horrible scenarios they have faced. That they should register for Baby Einstein.

It was nice. It is progress. I know it has to do with Claudia. I know it has to go with the fact we have our living child here. I know had we not had Claudia I still would have felt sad for them. But I am glad I didn't have to.

Later, in the toy area a woman and her husband were playing with some toys. The woman was having a blast goofing around, her baby in the stroller. The husband looked a tad annoyed and she was enjoying annoying him. I started talking to her about the toy she was playing with and we struck up a conversation. She turned the stroller around and her daughter was the same age as Claudia.

"Isn't being a parent just the coolest thing ever??"

"It is," I replied. "We are having an absolute blast."

She beamed a huge smile. We said our goodbyes and tried to get our daughters to wave.

I walked away, smiling. So often I see parents exhausted or upset with their kids. We all have those moments. But it was nice to see a family, enjoying their kid, and having fun. It was nice for my first thought not to be sad for a pregnant person.

We are pushing 3 years since losing Curtis. I just...I just can't wrap my head around it still. That I should have an almost 3 year old. I have really hard days, and weeks still. All the time. But those moments, those moments like yesterday, I felt good. I felt whole. I felt like someone I could be proud of again. Someone who is taking this grief and finding joy.

I must remember this when the grief hits again and becomes overwhelming.

I think I am the point now where I cherish the good days so much. I used to dread them. Because good days just made the bad ones feel so much worse. Like I had that much farther to fall. Now, the good days feel good. And the bad ones feel bad and they aren't so tired together anymore.

For THAT I am grateful.

2009-02-19T18:38:00.001-08:00

So, I was driving home on my way from work today and on the radio, the hosts were interviewing a hockey player.

His name is Curtis.

I sat (well drove) and listened to the interview. He was bantering back and forth with the hosts of the radio show, his wife a few times popped in a comment in the back ground.

It is interesting. His name always catches me attention. I hear it often, as a first name. As a last name. It always makes me smile a bit. Curtis was the name I came up with. Craig wasn't really keen on it at first, he had a guy at work with a similar name and he wasn't a real big fan of him.

We actually had a big fight about it. I mean, as much we fight. It is more me getting sooo upset and him sitting there going "what just happened here?"

I thought it was the perfect name. It didn't rhyme/sound sing songy with our last name (which ends in an "y" sound). I liked the nickname of "Curt". It was a C name. It wasn't super common, but not uncommon.

That day I was so upset Craig didn't love the name as much as I did. I loved it. A few hours later I got a text from Craig that said:

"I like Curtis now." Whether he just decided to give in because I was big, hormonal, and carrying his first child or he truly liked the name now, the world will never know. Because lord knows he will NOT say it was because I was big and hormonal!

I had that text message saved on my phone for 2 and a half years. I would make sure it never got deleted. I always had to save it every few weeks as other text messages rolled in. What is funny as I was writing this, I just realized that when I got my iPhone and changed providers in November, that message is now gone. Lost on an old phone.

Suddenly, I miss it.

I had saved other text messages from during his loss. I had a handful of them people had sent right after I had sent one saying he had been born, it was a cord accident, and that he had looked like Craig. I had saved a few from the weeks following Craig had sent me whenever we were apart. I had saved one from my first week back at work from Craig, checking in on me.

I miss those too.

For those years I had them saved, I would scroll through occasionally just taking myself back to those moments. The big fight over the name. The hours after his loss. The first time we were apart after losing him.

So funny how I had forgotten about those text messages once they weren't saved on my phone anymore and when I started this blog post my memory was suddenly triggered. Not the direction I expected this post to take, but I don't mind.

I like his name, I like hearing his name. It doesn't pain me, it makes me feel good about the choice we made for him. It was one of the few things that we were able to do that normal parents get to do. Name their new baby.

2009-02-15T17:09:00.000-08:00

One fear that I am sure most loss parents worry about is people forgetting or overlooking our children.

I had an incident a few months ago where my grandma was talking about all the children on my husband's side of the family. My husband is one of 4 boys. These 4 boys have produced 4 girls and, in total with Curtis, 2 boys.

So, my grandma was saying to me "How funny that his parents had 4 boys, but almost all girl grandchildren. Only one boy."

I knew she meant the living boy. My nephew.

Not angrily, not upset I said "Well, there is another boy."

"Oh, who?" I could see her calculate his nieces and nephews in her head.

"Curtis."

She became visibly flustered and said "Well, oh, well..."

I let her off the hook and changed the subject.

Later, she mentioned the conversation to my mom. (As I had.) She was defending what she said, saying she was just trying to say how funny it was they had a bunch of boys and ended up with only one grandson.

Huh?

Really, if we look at the conversation it was about what gender the family produces the most of. His parents produced boys. Those boys produced 4 girls and 2 boys. Plain and simple. If we are talking gender, that is what it is.

My mom tried to tell her that she needed to understand that Curtis was always present in our lives and he would always be mentioned.

Even that was off the mark. Yes, what she said in general is true, but at the nuts and bolts of the conversation was how many of each gender Craig and his brothers have had. 4 girls and 2 boys.

Things like this....they don't make me angry. Honestly. At this point, I just more shake my head and as nicely as I can point out what I see to be the truth.

When I don't have to do this? When it is done for me?

Amazing.

Craig's Gram passed away last week after a short illness. She was a neat lady. She had a long, active, fun life. She never was one to dwell on the past, so quite frankly, we don't know much about that life. She was very much in the present. She wanted to talk about the now and the future. She would be asked about the past, the life she had lead in her younger days, and honestly, she didn't mention much about it. She loved her sonbs, grandsons and her 14 great grandchildren. Coming from the background she did, death didn't seem to effect her much. People died, she moved on. Including 2 husbands and countless friends and family. When we lost Curtis, it was the one time people in the family mentioned that she was visibly upset.

Craig's Gram was the only grandparent he got to know. She had been a constant in his life and he was with her many times over her final days. She passed away peacefully after 92 years on this Earth.

There is some amount of perspective when someone 92 dies. Someone who said in her final days that she was okay with dying. She had a good life. She was ready for whatever faced her next. So, we said goodbye. While we are sad she is gone, sad for the neat lady who has left us, we understand people don't live forever. When someone dies at 92 you feel blessed for as long as you had them.

So preparations began for us to say goodbye to her. Selfishly, I started to wonder. Would Curtis be mentioned in the obituary? I wasn't going to say anything. I don't want to cause drama. It wasn't my place, it wasn't my choice.

But I worry. I worry about him being forgotten, being overlooked. I understand (really, I do) that it isn't malicious. But, heck, he is important to me.

I shouldn't have doubted it, I really shouldn't have. But sometimes you wonder. With as many people that seem to brush past the topic or seem to think he isn't "real", you doubt.

Needless to say, he was mentioned. Twice. Once in the "preceded in death by" and the next in the part where it stated "In lieu of flowers, donations in the memory of Curtis...." .

I was, well...GIDDY....when I read the proof of the obituary. I mean, as giddy as one can be when it comes to losing a beloved family member. Not only was Curtis mentioned, but Craig's parents wanted donations to go to the foundation we are a part of that promoted stillbirth research and support.

It meant, and means, so much.

All I had simply wanted was his name mentioned. I didn't expect memorials in memory of Gram to go to the foundation who has supported us so much.

Like I said, when I don't have to remind people, when it is done for me? Amazing.

At her service a few days later, I was listening to the priest talk about Gram. Talk about her going to Heaven. About being reunited with her husbands. With Curtis.

I was not prepared to hear his name. I buried my face into my hands and sobbed. She had never 'met' Curtis. She wasn't at the hospital that day. She never held him. Hearing that they were together, despite where my faith is at, was beautiful.

I was trying to pull it together. Craig put his arm around me and whispered "You weren't prepared for that, were you?"

"No."

Had I been prepared, though, it may have not been so momentous. It may have brushed by me. I like that I didn't know, I like that he was mentioned for me without me asking for it. I like that Craig's family thinks enough about our baby boy to make sure he is mentioned. I know they miss him too.

So, we miss Gram. She had a wonderful life. She said she was ready, but no matter the age, when you lose a cool person-- it sucks. It is sad.

In the wake of her death, I have had some amazing moments. And I thank her and her family for it.

Amazing.

2009-02-10T14:09:00.001-08:00

Ugh!

Hi.

Things have been....chaotic here. Work. Family. Claudia.... plus...My laptop is sick. It is so sick. Actually, the screen no longer connects to the keyboard/computer part. So I have to prop it up against the arm of the couch to read/surf/post. And sitting sideways on the couch is weird. And a little uncomfortable. Plus, it makes Craig laugh. It is a weird sight, trust me.

My keyboard is also sick. The keys stick. Some keys are loose. Needless to say, I think it is time ofr a new laptop. I am so hard on computers for some reason!

We have had a loss in the family this past week. That is a seperate blog post, but it has kept me away from the computer as well.

Just wanted to check in, I have a few things to blog about soon as well as continuing the "our story" parts.

2009-02-04T18:43:00.000-08:00

Thank You, Newsweek, for writing a good article on stillbirth. How the loss rocks us to the core and how our babies bring us together.

So rarely I read an article like this.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/182572/page/1

2009-02-03T20:01:00.001-08:00

I have mentioned here and there about my faith being shaky, at best.

My faith wasn't really rock solid before losing Curtis. Then, coupled with so many people telling me it was "God's choice" for Curtis to die. That there was a "reason" for his death and I would see it one day. The more I heard that, the more I started to question it all.

I am not a life long scholar of religion, obviously.

I do not know the ins and outs of each religion.

Lately, I have been wanting to find some peace with it all. I want to expose Claudia to religion. I would love to find a church community we find comfortable with, a community where I could being to find peace with the struggle inside of me that goes along with doubting God.

More than anything: I need to know I will see Curtis again. The logical person inside of me sees evolution and thinks "no way does God exist." And then at my heart of hearts, I know I haven't given faith enough of a chance.

Mainly because I have never needed it before.

Recently, Craig and I made the decision to start exploring churches in our area.

But in doing this, I have to reconcile the fact that many people believe God chose this path for me.

And I do not.

I do not believe God willingly took Curtis away from me. Because if I believed in a God that would do that. A God that gives children cancer and lets babies and children die at the hands of their parents and doesn't allow deserving people to even have children. A God who increased the Autism rates and lets people starve to death. That lets wars and famine happen....

That just isn't a God I can come to terms with.

I have never, not once, believed God chose me for this. I think it was an accident, pure and simple. I don't think God had some big lesson to teach me. (Because why would he make an innocent baby suffer and not get to live his life? What was the reasons for Curtis to have to die? Assigning someone to die just so *I* can learn a lesson? That makes no sense. And actually, sounds very self involved. As if everyone was put on this Earth as some sort of reflection on my life.)

I am not explaining this well. I just do not agree there was a spiritual reason for his death. The reason for his death? I lost my amniotic fluid, his cord was wrapped around his neck and got compressed. There is a medical reason for his death. That is it.

It is seriously like nails on a chalkboard when I hear someone tell me that God chose Curtis because He needed Curtis more. Please! Nothing could be farther from the truth. The founder of the organization we work with has helped literally thousands of women suffering from losing their babies. Even she says this is NOT the reason her daughter died. This is just the wake of what they did in the memory of their daughter. Even though she has comforted many and helped up get our living children here and educated thousands...she would give it all up if her daughter was home.

There are things that have happened in the wake of Curtis' death....friendship have form. I have felt love and support like I couldn't believe possible. Losing him strengthened my marriage. But these things are not reasons for his death. But they are gifts. They are gifts...the silver lining if you will. Gifts on the journey.

I read something recently by a fellow blog writer. She has an illness that has left her house bound at a young age. Someone asked her if she believed God chose her for this to happen. Why would God do this do this to her? I hope that she doesn't mind me linking to her. But her words...they say exactly what I believe. What I am coming to believe. She is the first person to explain it well....she is the first person who said "Hey! I don't blame God for this. But God is helping me through it." I think that is powerful stuff.

Here is the link to her post about Free Will: http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/free-will.html

Here are a few lines I like from her post; the post that made me run to Craig and say "FINALLY. Someone gets it! This wasn't something DONE to us. It was something that just happened..."

I don't think God, as my Father, decided to make me sick or chose to bestow an illness on me. Loving parents want to spare pain and hurts, not inflict them.

Just my opinion.

I think free will allowed two people to fall in love and have a child, and their genetics combined to create me. And in those genetics was a disease called Ankylosing Spondylitis. Just like others may have heart disease or diabetes or a myriad of other illnesses... it's just luck of the draw. But I think God, after allowing that free will, then helps us to see that we can make beautiful choices out of difficult situations. He may lead me to the best ways to cope, He may lead me to comfort, He may lead me to serve by helping others... but choosing to follow His lead is my choice through free will as well....

Like she says, free will. Craig and I chose to marry. We chose to try to get pregnant. We got pregnant.

Then total crap happened.

Please, go read her post. I looked for more to quote here, but quite frankly, I wanted to quote the whole post and you can just click the link instead. Plus, I haven't asked her if it was okay that I quote her here and I don't want her sending her dog after me.

Just kidding.

Kinda.

Seriously. Reading her post at a time Craig and I were trying to decide about checking out churches and giving this faith thing the ole college try was something....well, a path laid out in front of me.

2009-01-31T15:35:00.000-08:00

Our Story: Finding Joy Part 22

So, after the miscarriage we had to take about a two month "time off" from trying again. My blood levels were dropping slowly, we were given clomid again and would be allowed to try in March. I had looked at dates briefly and realized if I did get pregnant then, I would most likely not be due in 2007. I was ticked off.

At the memorial walk that past September, I was convinced I would have a baby OR be VERY pregnant at the next walk. I didn't want to go through another holiday season without a baby.

Then I recalculated. If things went *just right* I would be due the end of 2007.

Talk about pressure on myself. Having something happening "next year" seemed like it was so far away. Even just a few days into the next year. Having it happen "this year" seemed doable. I know it is all the same dating wise and what you have to wait through....but to me I wanted it as soon as possible. And this year versus next year made a difference.

So, mid March came and I started on clomid again. I did all of my trying to conceive things, charted, took my vitamins, and ovulation predictor kits. It all went perfectly.

4 days before my period was due (9 days past ovulation) I got an early positive on a pregnancy test.

It was Easter Sunday. April 8th.

Craig and I were coming off a pretty nasty fight. It was a doozy.

We just got through my side of the family's annual baseball home opener game that we always go to as a big family. Something I had dreamed about bringing Curtis to since I found out I was pregnant with him. His 1st Twins Home Opener! It was a hard night.

We were just a few short weeks away from his first birthday.

So, needless to say it was an emotional time without that positive pregnancy test. When I got the positive test, I kept the information quiet for a few hours. Do I tell Craig? Should I do something cute? Should I even tell him and get his hopes up? Maybe I wait a few weeks, get a doctor's confirmation and tell him? I don't want to hurt him again....

We were getting ready to go see my side of the family for Easter. Last Easter, my mom had given me an Easter basket for the baby. It looked like a dump truck. Filled with outlet covers, pacifiers, a baby toy, and chocolate (for mom). This year, I had put that Easter basket on Curtis' shelf.

What do I do with this info? It is SO early, but this time it made sense. I had ovulated, it was an early test, but not out of the norm that it was positive.

Craig and I were still a bit iffy with each other, not fully over our fight.

He was upstairs and I finally said "Well...there is something I have to tell you."

So much for waiting for a few weeks. I didn't even make it 3 hours.

He came down the stairs and looked at me. "Well, it is one of two things."

"What do you think it is?"

"You're pregnant."

He held up his hand for a high five.

Just like he did when we found out about Curtis.

I grinned.

I started to panic.

With the miscarriage it never made sense. This pregnancy, well, it made sense. It was starting off normal. I repeated this to myself. 100 times.

"We can't tell anyone. For, like, a really long time. I can't handle it."

"That's fine."

"And, it is so early, it could be a fluke..."

"Okay."

I did tell one person. My friend Annie. She was one of our first phone calls the day I lost Curtis and she has been so much of a cheerleader, even a silent one, of my life. She had emailed me, knowing I would probably test that day. I told her, cautiously, of my news. She was cautiously excited. She was also the person I turned to the day I got the positive pregnancy test for my miscarriage.

So, we went to Easter dinner that day. With a secret.

I remember that day so clearly. I remember laughing, REALLY laughing for the first time in ages. It was over black jelly beans and people arguing if they were good or not. (For the record: they are good.) I remember feeling excited. I remember having this little secret inside. And feeling so much joy. Much later, when my mom found out I was pregnant and WHEN I knew. She said "You know, that day, I sensed a difference in you. I even said to you dad I thought maybe you were pregnant again."

Deep down, I knew panic would set it. I knew it was coming. It was going to be a long 9 months. But today was the day I got 2 pink lines. Today was the day that could change my life. Again. Today was the day that it became possible for us to bring a living child home. I knew that road was going to be long (and trust me. It was really frickin' long). But just that day, in a few hours with my family, happiness was there. Excitement was there. I let myself take that day and dream.

I came home, I took another test (still positive) and figured out my due date.

December 21st, 2007.

A 2007 baby. This year. I could end the year with a baby in my arms.

2009-01-28T16:50:00.000-08:00

Wow.

I had no idea the drama my blog would cause!

I am always wanting to share Curtis with as many people as possible. Through this blog, through a memorial website...just mentioning him.

So, I posted a link to this blog on facebook last night. I have a lot of friends on there who know this blog already, so it was nothing new for them. But for a few select others, it was a brand new thing.

Now, the weird thing about facebook is there is a stack of people on there that don't know me that well. Maybe they knew me at one time. Maybe they are coworkers who didn't know me when I was pregnant with him or, heck, family members whom I love but we don't talk on a regular basis...They don't know the ins and outs of my life. So they take this blog, which deals with one specific topic and make wide sweeping generalizations of my life.

I was accused of hating people for "moving on" with their lives. I was accused of being lonely. I was accused of driving people away. That I should be more forgiving of others.

All from someone who hasn't spoken to me, I mean really spoke to me, in over 10 years.

I responded like you would expect anyone to respond in this situation. Not well. They take one topic of my life and but me in this "angry all the time" box.

The thing with grief....the thing I am trying to educate people on is grief is not easy. Grief doesn't wrap up in a pretty bow after one year of losing someone you love. This blog is my grief. It isn't always pretty. Often it contradicts itself.

So this blog, it is about Curtis. One aspect of my life. Do I blog about how Claudia and I went to Target today and I was pushing the cart down the aisle and saying "wheeeeee" and running behind it to make her laugh? Looking like an absolute fool, but now caring because I was laughing at her expression?

No.

Do I blog about how Craig and I played Wii Monopoly the other night and I was laughing so hard that diet pepsi came out of my nose?

No.

Because this blog is Born Still but Still Born. It is the place I go to talk about Curtis. Talk about my moments of anger and my days of sadness. It is the place I go when a TV show makes me cry. Or where I go to talk about his toes. He had my toes. And Craig's nose. Good lord. All the kids born on Craig's side have that nose.

This blog is one, just ONE, aspect of my life. It is a HUGE aspect, don't get me wrong. But you cannot make wide, sweeping, generalizations about me based on what you read here.

What kills me, is this person admitted to not even reading all the entries. Just the first few. So she hadn't bothered to read what it felt like the day I gave birth to him. Or the day we spread his ashes. Or the day we had his first memorial walk. To me, those entries...though sad, are filled with amazing amounts of hope.

I haven't driven anyone away. There are people I probably have lost or relationships that have forever changed in the wake of losing Curtis...but the friendships I have made BECAUSE of Curtis, or the friendships strengthened because of him...those replace the few I have lost, ten fold. I am okay with that. Because those are the true friends. Those are the friends who know I am different. There is a level of sadness that wasn't there before. But there is also a level of absolute joy that was never there before.

If anything, I think I have MORE friends now. I have friends who understand, who have been through it. I have friends who have never been through it but love hearing about Curtis. Who remember him with me AND celebrate my daughter's life.

So, if you happen to stumble upon here and maybe knew me in a former life or know me now, this is one aspect of who I am. Sometimes angry. Sometimes sad. Sometimes happy.

But always always always remembering I am richer, by far, to have held him a moment than to have never held him at all.

2009-01-27T18:55:00.000-08:00

So, I was watching another show that was dealing with death and dying. I like Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice and they do a lot of baby story lines. (Watching the Grey's episode way back on stillbirth about put me in the loony bin. Wanted to watch my favorite TV show one night shortly after losing Curtis and BOOM, my story, played out on TV. Lovely.)

ANYWAY...Private Practice last week had a sick man, dying of cancer. Dying a painful death. He was dying alone. No friends. No loved ones. He had a good life, he said. But at the end of it he was alone and was saying how miserable it was to die alone. He knew the world would keep spinning. But it was hard to imagine him not in it. No one would know he was here. No one would know he existed. The world would continue on with out him...and no one would know.

The doctor helping him through this crawled into bed with him, rocked him, and kept telling him "you were here. you were here. you were here." and sobbing.

Of course, by the end I was sobbing too.

One of the hardest things about having a stillborn child is I feel like I am the only one who knew him. I am the only one who knew he was here. He grew inside of me. I felt his kicks. He heard me. He heard my heartbeat.

Everyone else just saw ME, only pregnant.

I am the only one who "held" him while he had a heartbeat. I am the only one who ever felt his movements.

When he was stillborn, family came to hold his still body. Everyone cried over his little body. We did foot prints and took a lock of hair. We dressed him in a little outfit, and wrapped him in a blanket. We took pictures.

But I am the only one who truly knew him. I am the only one who knew he was alive at one time. I am the only one he ever responded too. One night I was so upset over something, I was laying in bed, sobbing. So upset. He kicked me SO hard, I jumped out of bed. It was like he was saying "HEY! CALM DOWN!" He knew me. I knew him. But I am the only one.

So, I feel like chanting.... he was here, he was here, he was here.

When I die, all of that dies too. It is one of the things I struggle with the most. I work hard on keeping a small legacy for him. It isn't a grand thing like some people do. But it is a memorial walk once a year, it is celebrating his birthday, it is mentioning him on our Christmas cards.... to remind people HE WAS HERE.

It is hard to know his memory will most likely die with me. No one knows him. They know of him, they know how much I miss him. They all know we lost something precious.

But they never got to know him. They didn't spend 40 weeks with him.

Sometimes it is hard to be the only person who truly got to be with him. I would have liked to have someone else know what it was like when he would kick or what it felt like to be with him. Maybe then the burden of reminding people he existed wouldn't be so brutal.

2009-01-24T11:48:00.001-08:00

We have been sick here. Really really sick.

Two weeks ago, Claudia got a stomach bug that lasted on and off for a week. I also got it. That was loads of fun. I only work 3 days a week, so I ended up missing two. One for her being sick, one for me. Craig also had to stay home one of those days because she was so sick.

Then this week, she ended up with a really bad cold. We ended up in urgent care on Thursday and then Thursday night/Friday morning in the ER. Her breathing was horrible, she couldn't stop coughing...it was just all around miserable. I ended up with the cold as well, so two more days out of work. (I am wondering when my work is going to get upset with me??)

We had really good ER staff, though. It was the same ER where I went when I called 911 that day for m miscarriage and things were 100 times better this go-around. But the ER doc? Awesome. I doubt there is anything in Claudia's file that said she had a sibling who died. I mean, he was stillborn so it wasn't like he had some family illness we need to take into consideration with her. She hasn't been seen in this ER before, and only once in the hospital right after she was born. But that was for a lactation consult.

But the doctor was asking us questions about her exposure to things and said "Are there any siblings living at home?"

We were just able to say "No." Without the whole explanation. Because if people ask if she has siblings, or if we have other kids: I do not lie. My answer may be a simple "yes". It may be a more complicated "Yes, but he passed away." To a "Yes, he would be two and a half but passed away." To a long explanation if someone asks what happened.

Maybe this doctor has learned over his time as a doctor to phrase things like this. Maybe he has offended blended families or maybe he has dealt with patients who has have lost children and just has learned how to phrase things over the years.

I don't know. Maybe it was just a fluke he phrased it like that, but after he walked out even Craig said "I loved how he asked if there were any siblings living at home. Just made everything so much easier when it came to answering."

It really did. Because in my state of mind at 4am in the ER; had he asked and had I answered I probably would have burst into tears. So, thank you doctor. That simple-easy to answer- question meant a lot to grieving parents.

She doesn't have a sibling living at home.

But she does have a sibling.

2009-01-20T17:46:00.000-08:00

Today marks 2 years from the day I had my d&c with my miscarriage.

I was going back into my livejournal (another blog community where I had more of a private online journal back then)and read through my entries from that time all the way through Curtis' first birthday in May of 2007.

Wow. It is so....raw. And angry. And raw some more.

Warning: Bad language ahead. I should probably take it out since this is a public blog and I don't want that judgement... but it is how I really felt and when I am hurt and angry, I swear. These are some excerpts of my journals from Jan to May 2007.

I don't even know how other stillbirth/loss moms feel. Because everyone grieves so differently. Sometimes you do feel so isolated. Soon, it marks 9months without him. Pretty soon I will be without him longer than he was with us. All the memorial walks, websites, memorial candle lightings, ceremonies...well, honestly, they are nice but I don't want to be a part of them. I want to be part of the group that gets to bring my baby home, not have to decide to do with his little body. I want to be part of the group that talks about poop explosions and teething and being too exhausted. But, none of that is my life. My life is forever marked as "Before Curtis" and "After Curtis". My child died. My child died before I could ever hear him cry. I don't even know WHEN my child died. How sad is that? The best they could estimate was Monday night or Tuesday. What kind of person doesn't even know their child is gone?

I sat in his room Sunday and looked at those tiny newborn diapers. Diapers that should be in a landfill, screwing up the environment right now. Because, he should be 9 months. Not sitting in an urn.

Who the hell did I piss off? What did I do wrong? Graduate school? Graduate college? Work with children with special needs? Wait to find the right guy to marry? Nice to my parents? Kind to animals? Never took an illegal drug/never smoked a cigarette? Why was my child taken? What did _I_ do????? I had to have done something. Because this pain, this torture has to be for a damn reason. Why can people WHO DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY ARE PREGNANT AND GET NO PRENATAL CARE have a healthy baby? (The 420 pound woman from last week comes to mind. Who said she never felt the baby kick because she was so heavy. UM, babies kick from the INSIDE.)The injustice of it all pisses me off. So, not only do I have to be jealous of people who get knocked up by accident or really easy, I have to be
jealous of other stillbirth moms who get pregnant months after their loss. So many have a baby just a year later. Not me. It is freaking MARCH. In two months he will have been gone a year. A full year. And I am still stuck, in my house, where my baby didn't come home. No closer to adding to our family than we were a year ago. No closer to seeing my husband hold his living child. How stupid is it? To be jealous of someone who has had their child taken away from them? But I am. Jealous that their bodies WORK. Their eggs pop out like good little eggs, and implant like good little eggs and the cells divide LIKE THEY ARE SUPPOSE TO. I don't begrudge anyone their kid. I really don't. I am very happy for you. I am just really really really fucking pissed off for myself. Pissed off at my body. Pissed off that it has been so long that my son is gone and I have to keep living day to day. I have no choice. No way out. I have to keep living. Anger is a nasty emotion. But sometimes I like it better than sadness

I was at lunch today at the bagel shop, and here comes a pregnant woman, with a shirt on that said "Due in May with a boy!" So, after I bolted out of the bagel shop, I went to Target. Into the baby clothes section. I have never allowed myself in that section since Curtis died. I looked at all the 12 month clothes, I looked at all the Easter clothes, I picked out an outfit I would have liked him to wear. It was so cute, little khakis, a little teddy bear on the vest, a little plaid shirt underneath... I pretended for a moment he was at daycare and I could pick him up for a few hours. Sometimes, I just pretend he is upstairs, sleeping. (I thought I was crazy until I heard another loss mom say she does the same thing.)I then went to my car and cried and cried. I just want my baby here. I don't know why this happened. And I am so flipping sick of feeling like this

We saw Reign Over Me today. That movie hit grief head on. Remembering is too painful. Moving on is too hard. So here we are. People giving me the little "poor you" routine. "It's okay to feel bad". Really? Is it? Thanks for the insight. You go back to your happy little life and happy family and quit fucking pretend like you give two craps about me

I really don't want to hear "you are still a mother! You are such a good mommy to Curtis. He is a lucky boy to have you s his mom."I am a mother is the sense that I gave birth, but I am not an every day mom. I don't get hugs and kisses and diapers to change. I don't have a kid to pick up from daycare and get holiday pictures with. He is not lucky. He got robbed of his life. Robbed of his first steps, his first Christmas, his first kiss, graduating college, meeting the love of his life. He is NOT lucky. He got robbed. And we got robbed of seeing him grow up. I am not an everyday mom. And I want to be his everyday mom.

There is no way I can be a good mom to Curtis. He isn't here. The things I do are in his memory. It isn't mothering him. Mothering a child is completely different than looking at his pictures and uploading things to his website. This isn't "mothering" it is grieving a little baby who never got to even take a breath or cry.

I really have a hard time believing anyone gets to bring a living baby home. Mainly because I have heard 1001 sad stories this year. It is all stillbirth/infant death all the time. I am sorry if those that are pregnant are bothered by me saying that, but ... I read your journals, your feelings, I have seen a lot of you bring babies home just fine and dandy. My story isn't like that, but my story is just as real. Except I know people don't read because I am that scary reminder. That you CAN go 40 weeks and not come home with your baby. Forty fucking weeks. I can still see Craig, two days before we lost Curtis, tell my stomach to "get the show on the road" he was ready to meet his son. It is one if life's cruelest jokes. To carry your child for 9 months and only get to hold their dead body for 4 hours.

Oh, at a wedding this weekend, I counted the number of times I was told "well, after you have kids it all changes...." "it is so hard with kids to..." 36 times between Friday and Saturday. Each and every one of these people know we lost a baby. But these words roll out and each are like a little punch. After I had a child, yes everything changed. But not in the way they are talking about. Once again, further proof people think I need to be over it. Even my SIL admitted she didn't realize the magnitude of our loss until that charity banquet. She, with a 2 year old, admitted she thought we should be over it. At least she had the guts to admit it. Our loss, is gigantic. It is Bah, I know I am just down because I think what this weekend or next weekend should be. It should be Curtis' first birthday party. I don't have a living child. In the past year I have been pregnant two times and two times I lost a baby. Once at 40 weeks, once very early. It is so hard. He should be walking and talking by now. We would be entering the crazy fun stage. Why was he robbed of his life?? What had that poor baby done? What had we done?

So, I am reading over this today. And crying. Feeling all of those emotions right at the surface again. Two years after the fact. Reading over all of this makes me realize how far I have come...but yet, haven't really. I know that makes no sense. Having Claudia here _does_ help. It really does.

But there isn't a day I don't cry for Curtis. Usually in the car, on the way home from work on my way to pick her up.I dream about that 2 and a half year old running to me. I get choked up in the injustice of it all. How I know that I am not alone. It has happened to far too many women to count.

I am still so angry. Bitter... one thing that struck me when I was reading over my old journals is this "Anger is a nasty emotion. But sometimes I like it better than sadness."

So true.

I hate knowing my family will never be complete. He is always missing, and I am always missing because of it.

2009-01-10T17:36:00.000-08:00

Our Story: Part 21.

Losing Hope

In November of 2006, we finally wanted to try again. Actually, we had been "open" to that option the whole time but my body refused. I was not ovulating on my own. I have a condition called Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) which can hinder ovulation. I was able to get pregnant with Curtis on our own, but I was still having cycles. They were irregular, but we got lucky with him. Well, as lucky as one can be when losing a child at 40 weeks.

Honestly, I was pretty ticked off at my body. The least it could do was ovulate for me! Geesh.

I went to see my old OB that I had with Curtis. I was planning on being done with him once I got pregnant again, but for the mean time, he was fine. They ran a few blood tests and said "You, you aren't ovulating". And offered to put me on a low dose of clomid (a drug that aides in ovulation) to see if that would jump start my body.

I remember when I got the call from the doctor that they were going to put me on clomid. I was in between clients at work, in my car. I felt this wave of hope! Happiness! I hung up the phone, cranked up the radio and sang along.

I was SO happy.

I took the first round of clomid and had little in the way of side effects. Thanks to ovulation predictor kits (OPKs), I knew when I was ovulating and everything was timed correctly.

Two weeks later, I got a negative on a pregnancy test, and a blood test, and my period came.

I was not that bummed out. We were headed to Vegas right then, I could have some drinks, the next round could begin. It would be okay. All that mattered to me was I had the chance to get pregnant again. All that mattered to me was I ovulated. That was big since I hadn't had a cycle since getting pregnant with Curtis.

I picked up my new round of clomid and headed to Vegas.

Now, the next part of this post gets kind of technical, women who have been down the obsessive trying to conceive world will get it. For others, I will try to explain it clearly.

I was using OPKs to try to figure out when I was ovulating. Starting at 7 days in to my cycle, my OPKs were consistently getting more and more positive. That shouldn't have been the case at all. I shouldn't be ovulating that soon. Usually you ovulate around 12 or 14 days in a cycle. Clomid can kind of muck that up, so that is why I was testing early. And if I was ovulating, OPKs should only be positive for a day, maybe two. Not for days and darkening on each day. OPKs and home pregnancy tests do measure one of the same chemicals. So a positive pregnancy test CAN show as positive on an OPK.

Something was weird.

On a whim, I took a pregnancy test.

Positive. Immediately.

Crap.

I knew something was wrong. Immediately. I did. I really did. But it didn't make the aftermath any less heartbreaking.

I had just finished my period. A full period about 10 days before. I had just finished my last clomid pill 3 days before. No way was I pregnant.

Little voices in my said "well, maybe...maybe something weird happened. Maybe you are pregnant. Maybe that period really wasn't a period. I mean, you hear about that stuff all the time...."

I knew that wasn't the case. I knew this wasn't right. I had taken a pregnancy test, it was negative.

I called Craig and told him. Him, not understanding the workings of OPKs and clomid and periods and things said "Well, if it is positive, you are pregnant." Yeah...but. But it wasn't right. I knew it wasn't.

I ran and had a blood test, but in the mean time I started to bleed. Nothing heavy, but something.

Yet, deep down, I still had hope.

I had a repeat blood test that showed the hormone levels were not rising. In the early parts of pregnancy, the hcg in a woman's body rises. The doctor told me to wait a few weeks to see if I would miscarry on my own.

I never did. I went in for one last ultrasound to be sure. There was nothing but some tissue. I was scheduled for a d&c the next day.

Laying on that ultrasound table just reminded me of the last ultrasound we had with Curtis. The one where his body lay still inside of me. No heart fluttering away.

We scheduled a d&c for a Saturday morning. I wouldn't have to miss work, Craig wouldn't either.

We arrived at the hospital and a chatty nurse did my pre-op stuff. She was kind and sweet. I was dressed in the gown at this point and she saw my Curtis tattoo. She started to cry when I said he was our son. Lost in May at 40 weeks.

Another nurse stayed with me while I was waiting to be taken back. "The doctor is running late! It is a baby boom up there!"

Great. Thanks lady.

She patted me on the head. (What am I? A golden retriever?) "I have had a d&c before. Don't worry, I went on to have other kids. Cheer up!"

"Well, I already lost one baby at 40 weeks and now this one. So I don't exactly feel like cheering up."

She LAUGHED and walked away.

Did she think I was joking?

At that point Craig was allowed to come back and sit with me. I didn't want him next to me. I couldn't stand it. I obviously couldn't give him a child. This pregnancy was different, it was pretty much broken from the start. Even though deep down we were hoping there was some little fighter in there, it was pretty obvious something was wrong. I honestly think Craig was much more worried about me at this point.

Later that night, I sat in our huge bath tub and cried and cried. I kept apologizing to Craig. I was so damn angry.

The following Monday, I got a phone call from a doctor (not mine) at 6pm that he was reviewing my reports from the d&c and was worried that I possibly had an ectopic pregnancy. Something the d&c would miss. He found no signs of conception in the tissue they took out of me. He said if I feel sick to my stomach, spike a fever, side hurts, back hurts, or any of these things, to go straight to the ER. If not, make an appointment with my regular doctor as soon as possible. I mean, if a doctor is calling you at 6pm at night, that isn't good, right?

I was pretty much on the ground sobbing at this point. I know what ectopic means. I know that is serious surgery. I know women die from ectopic pregnancies. I know women lose their fertility from ectopics.

I was a shaking nervous wreck.

The next morning Craig left for work and I called in sick. I had gotten an appointment for later in the day. Soon after he left, I started to shake, I broke into a cold sweat, I couldn't stand up. My stomach didn't hurt, but my shoulder and upper back ached. It felt like my skin was on fire. A quick google search said some ectopic pain can be diverted to the shoulder.

I was getting more and more scared. My eyes were going blurry. No one was around. In my panic, I called 911.

Yes, 911.

In hindsight, this was a MAJOR overreaction. But I had no idea what was going on inside of me. I was convinced my fallopian tube was exploding, I was never going to be able to have a baby and I was going to die. It seemed perfectly rational.

I was hyperventilating by the time the EMS guys came. They calmed me down and took me in to the hospital.

Where I was treated like absolute crap.

They ignored my "hey, the doctor told me to come in if I felt this way..." The nurse, boy you could tell I was annoying the crap out of her. I was scared. They ran a few tests, an xray of my neck. I know I was wasting space in the ER. I know the ER is for life threatening diseases. I know it isn't a walk in clinic.

But I was scared.

They said I had a virus. They said the burning skin was the number one sign of shingles.

SHINGLES? Are you flippin' serious?

I was discharged. My OB didn't even bother to come see me. Even though I heard he was in the ER at the same time because he needed to see another patient. Is it any wonder I dropped him?

I still didn't believe the shingles diagnosis. I was still shaking, feverish, and feeling miserable.

But they were right. I had shingles. The stress and anxiety from everything I had been dealing with caused the most painful sores to pop up all over my back and shoulder a few days later. Lovely. Just lovely.

On top of it, because I wasn't diagnosed "for sure" I had to go back to the doctor and get a prescription.

I never had an ectopic. My blood levels just dropped slowly, so I had to go for repeat blood every week until they were zero. Let me tell you, THAT was fun. They cannot explain the "no sign of conception" thing. Being that they can't explain WHEN I got pregnant. I had negative pregnancy tests before I had my cycle. AND my OPKs were not positive right away. It was just one of those "flukes" no one can explain.

The plan then was to go on birth control for a few months and shut down my body and then start a round of clomid again.

I honestly felt crushed. That day in my car, where I was first given clomid, I was SO excited. I liked having hope and now, hope felt lost.

I did too.

2009-01-07T12:32:00.000-08:00

I was watching a new episode of Scrubs this week. It was on death/dying and the fear surrounding it. I was sobbing by the end of it.

I have such a fear of death since our daughter was born. I have known way to many people touched by unexpected and sudden deaths this year. I have heard too many horrible stories about people dying way too young, leaving their children behind.

I have a lot of anxiety about leaving Claudia behind. Almost to the point where there is probably something wrong with me because I have _that_ much anxiety about it. My fear about death isn't that I don't think she will be okay, but because I do not want to miss out on her growing up. I want to see the person she will turn into. I want her to have memories of her mom. My reasons are selfish, but I want to enjoy the child I worked so hard to give life to. I want those years with her and Craig. I want those years of us as a family.

One thing that on the episode was everyone admitted they were afraid of death, but one character mentioned that he just hoped his last thought was a happy one. That was an amazing statement. So simple, no big wrap up on life, but just that his last thought was a happy one.

Like I mentioned, my faith is shaky, at best....but striving to make my thoughts happy .... even while thinking about the little boy who so briefly entered my world could make all the difference in reducing some of the mind numbing anxiety I have had lately.

2009-01-05T19:51:00.000-08:00

Well.

Today has been a horrid, no good, awful day.

Everything that could go wrong did. Work is a gigantic mess right now. It won't calm down until next month. I am talking total and utter chaos.

We had some freezing rain a few days ago. The roads are _still_ ice covered. They have't bothered to sand/salt or anything. We were bumper to bumper. It wasn't snowing or anything, just left over ice from days ago. I almost skidded off the road, granted I was only going 5 MPH, but still. This morning my normal 23 minute commute took over 70 minutes to go 18 miles! I got to work 30 minutes late. So, if you can do the math, I even left early to account for some traffic and some ice.

I have had a headache all day.

I am dieting, started a few weeks ago and not seeing ANY rewards for my work. I have lost weight before, I know the first few weeks are the "easy" weeks and you tend to lose bigger numbers right away. Not me. Despite exercising, and eating healthy.

Baby girl has been crabby. She has had a rough time at daycare which I always feel bad about, bad for her caretaker, bad for her. Bad for myself.

Days like this, you think I could brush off. You think I would say "well, don't let this stuff get to you because it isn't the worst thing that has ever happened." Icy roads happen. Work stress happens. Kids get crabby. It happens.

However...lately, for days like this, it just makes me ache that much more for Curtis. Days like this make me long for him, make me think that maybe if he was here life wouldn't seem so damn unfair. That I could manage the stupid little stuff better if I hadn't had to deal with the HUGE stuff too.

It is hard to feel like there is no justice. I had to deal with my kid dying! Why should I have to deal with icy roads? Why should I have to work so hard to lose one pound?

On bad days, it just adds to my underlying sadness. On some level, I am always sad. So, a bad day just multiplies that sadness. I sat down to journal about my bad day elsewhere and I ended it with "I miss my son."

That is what each bad, no good, awful day boils down to at it's base. Missing him.

Missing him so much that thse other tiny things finally overwhelm me until I crawl into bed and let the tears that have been threatening all day release.

2009-01-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

So. It is 2009.

It was really hard to say goodbye to 2008, as it was an amazing year. It was full of all of the "firsts" we had desperately longed for after we lost Curtis. I was lucky enough to be home with Claudia full time until August. And when I had to go back to work, it was still on a part time basis.

We, quite frankly, have had a blast. I know there are a lot of first to come with her. But...like Craig says "2006 was our sad year. 2007 was our stressful year. 2008 is our happy year."

And it was. That is not to say 2009 won't be happy, but it was a year straight of just getting to focus on the 3 of us and attempting that happiness thing. I know there will be some things in 2009 that will add a lot onto our shoulders. So saying goodbye to 2008 was very bittersweet.

2009-01-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

2008-12-30T19:28:00.000-08:00

The last 3 days I have been going through the house, digging out stuff I have shoved places this past year. I am a notorious "saver". I don't want to throw out cards someone sent me. Or cards someone sent Claudia or Craig. I gathered all of the things we have done or were sent this past year in Curtis' memory and put them in his memory box. I filed all our paper work from this past year and so forth.

I also tackled Claudia's photo album. I had it completed through October but needed the last month of her first year done.

It is a red and white album that I just love. It says "Watch me grow" on the front of it. It has openings for photos on the cover that looks like leaves and a little caterpillar on it. It is one of those albums that holds both vertical and horizontal photos on the same page.

I didn't buy it for her. I bought it for Curtis.

It was one of those purchases I was SO excited about it. I got it the week before he was born at Target and was so proud of it. In fact, I frickin' took a picture of it and posted it to an online message board I was on during my pregnancy with him. I couldn't wait to fill it up. Even after his death I showed it to my mom. "Look, isn't this cute?" She just looked at me strangely.

It was one of the things, after his death, that drove me nuts. I would flip through that empty photo album and look at the mocking "Watch me grow!" on the front of it and wanted to light it on fire.

After I had Claudia, I searched in vain for another photo album I loved as much as that one. I couldn't find one. I wanted one to last her her entire first year (which, let's face it, is a TON of pictures). I wanted horizontal and vertical album...

I had this huge debate with myself for weeks. Use it or don't use it. I loved the album. But I bought it for him. But I also bought the crib and bookshelf and dresser for him and was using it for her. But I would reuse those things for the next child anyway. I wouldn't reuse a photo album.

There is a difference. He isn't alive. He never used the album to begin with so it isn't second hand like furniture would be, which is normal. The album wasn't technically used....

Ugh. In the end, the love of the photo album won out.

What a stupid thing I worried about for weeks. How stupid to even have a blog post about a photo album.

But this is my life. Focusing on stupid little things like a photo album that was bought for him but became hers. This is my life. That album has 300 photos of her first year of life. Every time I look at it, I know it was meant for him. Though, I love flipping through the pages and "watching her grow."

I just wish stupid things didn't haunt me. It is just a photo album! But it is tied to him.

In the end, I am glad I used it.

2008-12-27T20:23:00.001-08:00

Well, I made it through.

We made it through.

It really was such a nice few days, Christmas eve and Christmas. Craig gave me a beautiful Willow Tree Figure called "Guardian" I had never seen it before and asked him "Is it for Claudia or for Curtis?" He said it was up to me. I said I wanted it to be for Curtis and he said that is why he bought it. I then started to cry and he looked a bit horrified. ;) I mean, he is *so* used to me crying but he doesn't like to be the one to make me cry. It just means so much to me when anyone takes 2 minutes out of their day to remember him.... and to have something tangible? Amazing.

Here is the figure:

I will admit to being very hurt when I opened up an ornament from my grandparents that had our family names listed on it, and absent was Curtis. I just cannot hang that on my tree. He is forever my child and forever a part of this family. I know they don't get it, and quite frankly grew up in a different era of sweeping things under the rug.... but I don't care. I want him remembered.

It was hard with the Christmas pictures. The comments about "Let's get a picture of all of the grandkids together..." That just can never happen. In my eyes, that just can never happen.

My mom got us an ornament for Curtis' tree, but it was one we already had. She felt really bad because she had really looked hard and tried to find a special one. But I told her over and over how much it meant. She was able to return it and find another one we both liked. I am excited to hang it on his tree though.

Claudia was spoiled. But, Craig and I had a big hand in that. We didn't mind.

It was more December 26th when I broke down. That is the day I allowed myself to cry, that is the day I allowed myself to say how unfair it all is, how sick I am of grieving, of how life should be so different. How that the picture with the 5 grandkids should be a picture of 6. How if one more person says "look at all the granddaughters they have you think they would be one more boy..." I am going to go absolutely berserk.

But, Christmas itself was filled with joy and laughter. Happy kids, good food, and twinkling lights.

The good. December 25th. The bad, December 26th. You take the good with the bad, right?

Only because I have no choice.

2008-12-23T13:17:00.000-08:00

Random things.....

1) The next our story post is going to be dealing with my miscarriage. That is something I still haven't wrapped my head around. That is going to be tough to write about. While the miscarriage wasn't the same as losing Curtis, it was about losing hope. I really haven't written much about the miscarriage, it was over before it really started, but the "over" part was a month process that effected me physically.

2) Curtis would be two and a half this Christmas. The magic, the sparkle...it would all be there. I have had to make a conscious decision to enjoy Christmas. I have a child now and I have every reason in the world to enjoy Christmas. But I never, ever, ever get rid of that "dark place' at the back of my mind. Telling me I should have a little boy running down the stairs on Christmas morning. I constantly picture him. A picture of the 3 of us? I see a blond haired boy next to Craig. A blue eyed boy walking between us at the mall. Him holding our hands and us doing "One....two....THREE" and lifting him up by his arms and swinging him.

Constantly. The image of what is suppose to be is forever haunting me.

3) With that, I am going to wish you Merry Christmas. We only get so many Christmases in our lives....so I am lucky I am at a place where I can enjoy it again, despite everything. This is my life now. I have her. For that, I am taking comfort.

I read something recently...."For nine months, I held a piece of heaven. Now, heaven holds a part of me."

While my faith is wavering (which is a post for another day....) I do like that sentiment. It gives me a small amount of comfort on a time I should still be holding my piece(s) of heaven.

2008-12-21T19:41:00.000-08:00

Our Story Part 20

Christmas 2006

Late in October of 2006, Craig and I made the decision to do something different for Christmas. I had been so looking forward to Christmas when I was pregnant. Christmas of 2005, I went a little nuts buying things on clearance related to Christmas and a baby. We didn't know the gender at that time, so I bought girl Christmas things and boy Christmas things. A little baby Santa suit. (Hey, everything was 75% off....).

I knew damn well all of that stuff was still sitting on a shelf in his bedroom while his ashes were on a shelf in my living room.

A self professed Christmas freak, I needed to skip it. I couldn't handle the thought of sitting with our families and forcing a smile. We have a lot of kids on each side and...well, damn it. It was suppose to be our turn. Our Christmas to have a child. The previous Christmas my parents had given us a "parents to be ornament". My mother in law had given me a book about being a first time mom and an Oh Baby tshirt. My parents gave us a video camera....

There was no way I was going to be able to fake my way through Christmas. Craig and I decided to take a trip, but we needed to make it inexpensive. It had to be short, he had just started a new job after all....so, that was that. Vegas was booked.

It did not go over well with our families. Overall, they were understanding, but for their own reasons they wanted us there. When, for obvious reasons that was the last place we wanted to be.

We needed Christmas to be different. In booking the trip to Vegas and looking at shows to attend, I began to look forward to Christmas. To get away with my husband. It wasn't going to me watching all of my nieces and nephews rip open their presents, it was going to be us eating, playing the slots, and relaxing.

It was exactly what we needed. I refused to set foot into a mall or Target or anywhere Christmas "threw up" for the entire month of December. I did shop for our nieces and nephews, but thanks to the Internet, it was easy. We donated money instead of buying gifts for the adults and asked people to do the same, but no one did. I didn't put up my Christmas decorations. I did end up putting up a small, artificial tree. Mainly because my mom had given us a Curtis ornament at the Angel of Hope ceremony a few weeks prior, and I wanted to hang it up. It became known as our memory tree, all ornaments for Curtis. We hung up that "Parents to be" ornament.

We left early on Christmas eve, and arrived in Vegas early in the day. Most of the trip is a blur of slot machines, funny comedy shows, and eating out. Christmas day I woke up and....it didn't feel like Christmas. Which is exactly what I wanted. Christmas night we went to a showing of Mamma Mia. Everything felt fine. It felt good. A friend who lives in California drove up to meet up with us.

The day before we left, sitting in a Chinese restaurant, Craig and I looked at each other and both of our eyes filled with tears.

"I cannot believe this. How can this be?"

"I don't know. I miss him so much."

We talked, and we talked, and we talked. We talked about our little boy and the weird turn our lives had taken. We talked until our tears stopped and we started joking about the weirdos crying, in Vegas, in front of our sweet 'n sour chicken.

While Vegas did not erase our grief, I have to say, it did make Christmas a heck of a lot easier. I still think our families have no clue how much we needed that trip. The next Christmas....well, Claudia was with us by then and life became much different. Always tears, always someone missing.... but Christmas 2006 will forever be our Christmas. The year we did what we needed to do to get through another day.

2008-12-16T08:02:00.001-08:00

One of the things I try, really hard, to do is to include Curtis anyway I can. It is almost a desperate kind of thing with me. I know I will never forget him, but I don't want anyone to forget him, or to think I have forgotten him. Or to think they can never mention him.

Christmas is a time I get a bit creative with including him. We do a memorial Christmas tree to him. It started in 2006, I was so disgusted with Christmas (and I am a pretty big Christmas freak so it was a hard time) that I didn't want to put up a tree. I had a small one from my apartment living days, so I out them up and just put a few ornaments on it that reminded me of Curtis. One I had made in support group, one my mom gave me with Curtis' name at the Angel of Hope ceremony...things of that nature.

Last year, I put back up our big tree, but decided to continue to put up the little one in memory of Curtis. A friend has sent me an ornament each year in memory of Curtis as well some I had bought for him. Plus, we have a "parents to be ornament" we got as a Christmas present in 2005.

Last year on our card I included the verbage "and Curtis, who we hold in our hearts" at the bottom above three pictures of our new little family and our names.

This year, in addition to 3 other pictures this one was included:

It just gives me the warmest fuzziest feelings. She loves this stone and is constantly patting at it.

This is our "Curtis" tree. I just love it. Claudia does too. It has twinkling white lights. She constantly points at it and tries to say "tree". What is funny is she pretty much ignores the big one which is in the same general location.

I do worry about the coming years and how I can include him and keep him in people's minds.

2008-12-11T19:55:00.000-08:00

Our Story 'The Job'

Part 19

A few weeks into September 2006, I came home to find Craig sitting in our loft. He was at his desk, which he never sat at, on the computer, and a pencil in his mouth. He gave me a quick smile and said "How is your stress level today?"

Not exactly the way you want to be greeted when your life has already been shattered.

"Just give it to me." I responded.

"Well, my boss called me into the office. In the next few weeks I will be laid off."

"Oh, okay."

I took a deep breath. This thing would normally send me into a tailspin. I should be freaking out about money and debt and mortgage, but I didn't have it in me. This wasn't completely unexpected. Craig worked for a home builder and the market was starting to take a turn. And as computer guy he was going to be the first to go. Plus, we had a head's up.

Craig got to work on his resume and applying for jobs. Two weeks later, he was laid off. Was paid a week severance, his vacation, and came home.

Craig worked hard, studied the newest applications and coding (that is some computer stuff I guess!). He got a few interviews quickly and took a job just a week after he was laid off. We were cautiously happy, he wasn't thrilled about the company, but heck: it was a job. It was a pay cut, but it was a job. We felt like he had to keep looking but still take this chance.

His first day on the job was also his first night at a new bowling league. He had stopped bowling with a group of lifelong friends the previous season as the bowling league disbanded. Joining in with an old coworker, he took a chance on a new league.

He came home that Monday night, came up to bed and took one look at me and said "I want my old job back and my old friends back."

It broke my heart. Everything had drastically changed for us. We went from the couple who seemed to have it all, to grieving parents, to losing loved ones, to losing jobs....everything had changed.

Craig always seemed to handle it all much better than myself. Where I am high strung, high emotion, he is even. So for him to actually admit how bad it sucked just made me more pissed off at our situation.

His job continued to suck. He came home and said "A monkey could do what I am doing." Not exactly good for the ego.

Craig had gotten another interview at a much more desirable company a week later. It was a company he had wanted to work at for awhile, a company with a future. He went in for an interview on a Tuesday and was told he would hear within the next few days.

But noon on Wednesday he couldn't stand the anticipation and called. They didn't outright say he had the job but they would be returning his call later in the day.

He came home defeated because they never called back. I was crushed for him, but kept reminding him his interview was just the day before. It was around 8pm at night when he was on the phone with a friend. Someone tried to beep in, but he didn't recognize the number so ignored it.

When he checked the voicemail, and realized it was the HR rep, he hurried out the garage to take the call.

Yes, the garage. He said he couldn't stand the pressure of having me in the same room.

I couldn't stand the pressure of him out in the garage so I went up to our room.

He was gone for a long time. Was that a good thing? Was he on the phone talking salary? Was he upset in the garage, not wanting to come in and tell me the sad news?

I finally heard him make his way up the steps. From the doorway in our room, I saw a hand first, giving a thumbs up.

I jumped up and screamed. He had a HUGE grin on his face. We even drank some champagne that night. I think it was the first time we had truly felt joy since losing Curtis. We needed this so badly. I remember calling my mom to tell her the good news and she burst into tears. I know she was happy for Craig and his new job, but I know it was more that we were excited about something again. That something GOOD had happened for us in the wake of so much.

The job gave us a piece of happiness back. That good things can happen to us again. He started his new job the beginning of October that year and we agree getting laid off was the best thing for him, it pushed him to find a new, much better job. He has been there over two years now and is well liked and very valued.

So, in October 2006 he started a new job and that gave us hope. And with that hope, we started talking about trying again. Trying to get back some more joy. Trying to bring a child, a living child, in this world.

2008-12-08T16:27:00.000-08:00

Our Story: part 18

The Memorial Walk.

The year we lost Curtis, 2006, I connected with the Missing Grace organization. My first real event was a 5K Walk/Run they do to raise money for this non profit. Over the years, I have gotten to know the founder well, and they were the ones who put me in touch with doctors who got Claudia here. I truly believe without them, we would have lost Claudia as well. That story will be told in the future, but cord issues can and do repeat. Claudia had a cord issue, the same one that took her brother's life.

So, in August of 2006, I found out about this 5K and contacted our friends and family to see if they wanted to participate. Our parents said yes, some of our siblings joined in and agreed to sign up.

I got the crazy idea I was going to make tshirts that said "Team Curtis" on them. On every one's tshirt I would put things like "Curtis' dad" on the front. I found a picture of Curtis to use.

I designed (and I do use that term loosely) the iron transfers. I went to the store and bought a stack of tshirts. I spent on Saturday night carefully printing everything out and ironing the tshirts. Because I am not talented in the ways of iron transfers, they were less than perfect. A few I had to redo (because I accidentally ironed on the words wrong and it said stuff like "Curtis Team" as opposed to "Team Curtis".

I spent hours, ironing each shirt, and crying as I finished each one. Each shirt was a reflection of something I could "do" for Curtis. I could not parent him like normal people parent. There was nothing for me to do for him. So this. This I could do.

I hadn't even told our families I was making these shirts. One day, a few days before the walk, I just got in my car and delivered the shirts. I was practically shaking when I handed them to people.

What if they thought it was stupid? What if they didn't want to wear them? I wondered all of this out loud to Craig. "Oh. They will wear them. They will have no choice." I almost threw them all away. I didn't want my feelings hurt. I didn't want all of my hard work, all of my parenting of Curtis looked at with disdain.

My sister in law held out the shirt I made for her son and gasped "I cannot WAIT to put this on him."

I can still see her face, her expression in my head. Those few words and her genuine joy in receiving that shirt still mean the world to me.

So, on a chilly day in September, we did the 1st walk as Team Curtis. It was a small crowd that year, their first year with the walk and all. I can say that in comparison because the future years have doubled in size each year. We were the only ones to wear team tshirts and therefore, got a lot of attention for them. The foundation even put pictures of our shirts on their advertising for the event for the following year and pictures up on their website.

In fact, in May of 2007, we were at our support group and I said something about Curtis and a couple new to the group said "Curtis? Of Team Curtis? We saw your shirts!"

I think I just got my 15 minutes of fame.

It felt amazing.

And, at the walk in 2007 and 2008, tons of teams made tshirts. But we were the first. We were the original. A lot of people get "fancy" ones made. Professional printing. Beautiful artwork.

Not me. I continue to make new ones for every member of our team each year. It is one of the very few things I can do for Curtis each year. So, I continue to iron (and continue to have to redo) shirts every year. Each year I cry. Each year I step back and take pictures of each shirt. Even though they don't change from year to year, they are just as important to me as they were back then.

At the end of the walk in 2006, we did a balloon release and I buried my head into Craig's shoulder and sobbed. Sobbed that everyone wore their shirts and were proud. Sobbed because I even had to be at an event like this to begin with... and because I missed my baby boy.

2008-12-01T19:29:00.001-08:00

It still feels fake about 90% of the time. I have talked about this before, the whole "It was like I played a giant game of pretend for 9 months, everyone indulged me and then one day, we all stopped pretending."

Nine months. I was pregnant for NINE MONTHS. That is a really long time to think about something, and prepare for something. I did everything a pregnant woman, an educated, smart, pregnant woman does. I took my prenatal. I went to every doctor's appointment. I ate decent foods. I took a child birth class. (Okay. We skipped the second day. But it was seriously that boring.) My husband came with to every single doctor's appointment. We prepared a cute little nursery and bought newborn diapers. Happily married. College degree. Families who adore and love us. Families that were so excited about another grandchild.

For nine months we prepared and it was just....gone. In an instant. No time to prepare. Just....gone. How do you undo that in your mind?

I sit here and still think, two and a half years later "what the frick just happened here?"

I did go to therapy, starting in March of 2007. Right around the time I got pregnant with our daughter.

It didn't help. I am not trying to be mean, my therapist was very kind...but I had the feeling she just wanted to see me get my happy ending. She was so interested in my pregnancy and getting me through the end, she did little to help my anxiety, did little to help my guilt (which I got so much of I am running out of room to store it) and did little to help my grief. She just liked my story. The heartbreak of losing Curtis....trying again and miscarrying (which I will blog about in a "our story post" in the future) and then getting pregnant with our daughter. Then, the harrowing pregnancy, the complications we had with her heart and low fluid at 20 weeks. Meeting with the research doctors, the nightly monitoring .... she loved it all. She wanted the celebration and for us to go on our merry way.

Once again, I am not trying to rip on her, because she was kind. And let's admit: I enjoy talking about Curtis and telling our story. I like the attention surrounding him. Even if I am paying for it every 3rd week.

But therapy did little to actually help.

But when I think about it, I have to admit nothing is going to make me feel less guilty about losing him. I believe, hell I *know* it could have been prevented. I know I could have pushed harder, I knew I should and I chose not to. I chose to ignore what was going on inside of me. No matter how many people tell me it was not my fault (I know I didn't do it on purpose. I get that.) I will never let go of the roll I played in Curtis' death. Never.

So, while I think therapy can be helpful, I think in my case, it isn't. Because my guilt and my grief are ways of coping. Sounds odd, but it is true. How I cope is by knowing I could have prevented it and apologizing to Curtis for not doing more. I am sorry my mistakes assisted in his death. I am sorry I did not educate myself on kick counts, which would have saved his life. (See my kick counts post for more info). I am sorry that I worked so hard to get our daughter here and I didn't put the effort into him.

My guilt gets me through. Because if I didn't feel guilty...what would I have? A "well, it just happened" thinking? I can't do that. It isn't me. I am his mom. Moms feel guilty for the things they didn't do. They can't do. Didn't have the knowledge to do to make their child's lives better. Moms feel guilty.

So, while some days it still seems so surreal, I know he was in real. I have the stretch marks I wear on the outside and on the inside, a heavy heart full of guilt.

Curtis and his loss are all too real.

2008-11-30T20:50:00.000-08:00

On Craig's side of the family there is this weird "gap" that I can't shake every time everyone is together.

One of Craig's brothers has 2 girls, very close in age. They are 8 and 7.

The next child, from another brother is a boy, who is 3.

Then there is our daughter, and another baby, a girl, 9 months younger than her.

Can you see it? Can you see that gap? 2 girls, close in age, sisters even...and playmates. Then there is our daughter, and the newest baby in the family. Bound to grow up and be playmates. Both girls, only 9 months apart.

But, look. Look at the lone boy there. Right in the middle. Age 3. No boys to play with. No one similar in age. But there should be. Curtis should be smack dab in the middle with him. It just makes me sick every time we are together and he is chasing after the older girls, trying to get them to play. Or trying to play with our daughter, who is much too young to be anything but confused by his approaches.

When we announced we were pregnant with Curtis, my mother in law went on and on how wonderful it would be for the two of them to have each other.

That, obviously, didn't happen.

When my sister in law got pregnant with her daughter, my mother in law went on and on about how wonderful it would be for the two girls to have each other.

That did happen.

But that gap, it makes me ache.

On my side, we don't have that gap. My brother has 4 kids, and the youngest would have been about 2 years older than Curtis. So they would have been close and would have played together I am sure... But there isn't that obvious gender and age segregation.

Times like this, where family gatherings happen quite often (heck, on Craig's side they happen a ton normally) it is just hard. It is hard to listen to people say how great it is our daughter has a cousin so close in age. It is hard to watch my nephew play by himself. It is hard not to picture a little blond boy toddling behind him...

It is hard not to be angry and bitter. And angry some more.

I am in an angry place today.

2008-11-26T17:30:00.000-08:00

Today we attended my sister in law mom's funeral. I was talking to my brother in law about how I had never been touched by death until we lost Curtis.

I lost my grandpa when I was 3, so I don't remember that. And then....nothing. There was a high shool classmate who died when we were 16 or 17. We had been sort of friends in junior high and drifted apart in high school. I am a bit ashamed to say her death didn't register much on my radar, though I did feel bad about the situation (she had been sick) at the time. There was a pen pal of mine who died in a tragic accident when I was in high school as well. But, once again, I was removed enough from her that the death didn't alter my daily world. And until death changes your day to day exsistance, it is hard to say it effected you on a deep level.

Curtis was my first real taste of how unfair and cruel life can be. He was the first person taken from me. Of course, with Curtis' death came all kinds of things. His delivery. Only ever holding him dead. Other people not realizing how real he was (because he was never real to them).

Curtis' death changed my day to day world. In a way, I am still waiting for things to get back to normal.

Sitting at the funeral today I ached for the people whose day to day lives have been rocked to the core. I know how painful it all is and how they will never be the same. How they will wait and hope for the day where the pain goes away, and it won't. They will learn to live with it, they will learn to live with the new normal, but they will still wish for the day to come that things will be normal again.

I miss him, I miss everything I never had with him. I will continue to wait. Wait to feel whole, wait to get back to normal. Just like the family who lost their mom. They wait. I wait.

For something that will never come. Because death forever changes everything.

2008-11-25T15:16:00.001-08:00

So, I am back. Her birthday is over and it was a huge, and I do mean HUGE success. The days leading up to it, I was teary and sad and happy and overwhelmed. But the day of her birthday and the day of her party I was happy. The end of her party, my mom hugged me and said she was sorry I didn't get to do this for Curtis was the only time I cried that day.

I know some people probably think I went "all out" for her party because of losing Curtis. Which isn't true. I went all out, because that is what I do. I love this kind of stuff. I loved celebrating her birthday. It is such a big deal. It was her first one! I know she won't remember, but pictures will tell her the story, and I will remember. I did it because it was fun for me.

(And all out really isn't that much. Cute, printed invitations, a rented party room -which was only $15 an hour so not expensive- some cute napkins to match her theme, some balloons, pizzas and cupcakes... but to some people this is "all out.")

Sadly, my poor sis-in-law got a phone call during the party that her mom had passed out suddenly and to come quick. She left without a scene and I had no idea that she and my brother in law were even gone until much later. My aches for her, as she lost her mom unexpectedly that day. And I am honored she is my family because she didn't want to cause a scene and trump our long awaited party.

There is a little girl from Minnesota who suffered a traumtic accident in a pool. I won't go into the details, but she fought, hard, for her life and passed away about 9 months later. Her parents have 3 other little girls. I saw an interview with them recently and they said "We will never say we have 3 girls. We have 4. One is just waiting for us." I loved that this was broadcast. I loved that they said this. So often people get uncomfortable when they ask how many kids I have and I say 2. One who passed away who would be two and a half and a daughter who is one. I do not say it to make them uncomfortable. I say it because it makes me comfortable. I cannot live with myself if I do not acknowledge all of my children.

I know I am jumping trains of thought...but I do have a point. By mentioning Curtis the day of her birthday party, my mom with her simple comment included my son. My sister in law, with her quiet leaving of the party let us shine for a moment. That is all I could have asked for that day, our daughter to have the spotlight, and our son remembered. We have two children. Equally loved.

2008-11-05T18:33:00.000-08:00

Our Story: Part 17

Spreading his ashes

On August 19th 2006 it was a weekend day and Craig and I were out to lunch. It was a beautiful day and we had no plans.

We had been planning on taking Curtis' ashes a few hours north to Craig's family cabin but hadn't done it yet. We wanted to be alone up there when we did it. We knew no family was up there that weekend.

"Do you think it is as nice at the cabin as it here?" I asked, fiddling with my napkin.

"Should we go?"

We didn't even discuss what we were going to do. We just knew. We drove home, got the dog, got his urn and a screwdriver to open the bottom of the urn. At the last minute, I grabbed my camera.

The drive up was quiet. Craig kept saying he was trying to think up ways to make the trip up there fun. To make idle chit chat, or something. But it wasn't any of that. It was a somber time. Craig, me, the dog, and an urn full of ashes. I kept fighting tears back at the prospect of what would happen. I would be touching Curtis again. I was going to be opening that urn and had no idea what would greet me under that metal plate.

We got to the cabin around 4pm. It was crystal clear and calm. Bright blue sky with puffy clouds. We walked down to the dock and sat at the end of it, the dog sniffing around, the urn between us.

At this point, we started taking pictures. I took pictures of his urn looking out towards the water:

We took turns posing with the urn. Smiles on our faces. I look at the photos and I do see true smiles. We were not faking it, we were smiling. We took pictures of the beautiful lake, the calm water.

We laid on the end of the dock, set the self timer and took this photo of the 3 of us. (What is funny was the dog was in this photo too, but she wouldn't sit still and I am actually pushing her down so she wouldn't ruin the photo. It was one of the silly moments of the day I will always remember.)

We eventually stopped taking photos and looked at each other. "Should we start?" I asked Craig. He nodded.

I unscrewed the 4 screws holding my son's ashes in and pulled out a clear plastic bag with our last name in black marker across it. I ran my hands over and and gently opened the bag. I reached my hand in and touched the ashes.

When I had thought about ashes in the past, I thought cigarrette ashes. I thought campfire ashes. I wasn't prepared for coarse sand feeling. I wasn't prepared for fragments of bones. I ran the ashes through my hands.

I was touching the only physical remainder of my son.

Intermixed with the ashes was a round, metal circle. I stared at it for awhile, trying to figure out what part of the body it was from. It came to me slowly that it was the snap from his onesie he was wearing in the hospital. The one that said "Thank Heaven for Little Boys." I put it back in the bag when I realized what it was. Up until that point I had secretly wondered if this was really him. But it was. The metal circle from his snap sealed any doubt I had.

There was more ashes than I had expected. We had only been planning on spreading a tiny amount, but we knew we would have enough to take home so we spread a decent amount of them.

Standing at the end of the dock, I looked down to see fishes swimming by. It hit me that I couldn't sprinkle the ashes from the end of the dock because the fish would think they were food. "I don't want the fish to eat Curtis," I tried to joke.

We went to the shoreline instead.

I did the first sprinkle of ashes, then I gave the bag over to Craig. I know you can't see it, but I know where the ashes are in this picture.

After Craig spread some, it was my turn. As the ashes hit the water, Craig took this picture with the light bouncing off of the water...

We both took turns again and all of a sudden I said I had enough, I needed the rest to come home with us. We sat on the shoreline, cried together, and talked to Curtis. We told him how much we missed him, how much we ached for the life he never got to live. We stared at the water for awhile and I told him how sorry I was that I didn't get to bring him home with us. Eventually we packed ourselves and the dog up and made the quiet 3 hour ride home with less ashes than we came with, but left a piece of Curtis at a place that is so special to our family. A place we needed to share with Curtis, on whatever form it took.

2008-11-02T19:24:00.000-08:00

In case you haven't noticed, I am avoiding the Our Story entries.

There is a variety of reasons for it. The main two reasons are as follows...

1) The next entry is about the day we spread his ashes. It is a day that has been shared with very few people. We took pictures and shared those....but the emotions of that day are something only Craig and I know and feel. I have been wanting to write about that day for, well, years. Everytime I start, I get major writer's block and end up writing something like "We spread his ashes. We cried. The End." Not exactly the emotions I want to convey.

2) We are approaching, rapidly, my daughter's 1st birthday. I am so stinkin' happy I have a birthday party to plan. I have given way too much thought to this party (and money. Even though it is just close friends and family I seem to be on a spending spree.). I am thrilled to have a daughter to plan this stuff for, no doubt about that. But, even happiness gets confusing. Had Curtis been born alive and we had been able to have a first birthday party for him I doubt I would have been THIS excited. Sure, it would have been fun, but I am practically bursting about this. So, guilt gets thrown in the mix. I try to convince myself I would have been THIS excited for his birthday, but I know I wouldn't have. I would have taken a first birthday for granted. I mean, when you are 40 weeks pregnant, it is a given you will celebrate a first birthday. But because it is _not_ a given to me anymore I have become THIS excited. (Yeah, I am talking in circles).

So, I have been avoiding my blog. Been avoiding talking about Curtis. Because I just want to focus on the happiness and ignore the guilt and anger and more guilt I feel.

I have a feeling, the night of her birthday party I am going collapse in a mix of utter happiness and sheer grief.

2008-10-24T19:10:00.000-07:00

You know...I just am really missing him all of a sudden tonight. I am working with a young boy who is roughly the same age Curtis would be and it is odd to have a reminder day in and day out "this is how big he would be. This would be the things he would be doing." Because Curtis is forever a newborn to me. He is forever a little baby. So a physical reminder is odd. It isn't horrid or anything, it isn't even sad....it is just so many "what if"s and what "should be"s....I think these would have been the holidays he would have really "gotten" it. I think this would have been the Halloween he would have been running to the doors to say "TwickorTweat". There is always this hole in our lives of the way it should be. Quite frankly, sometimes it sucks worse than others.

I struggle with my Faith in all of this, that is a different post for a different day. I know some people feel this is the way my life was suppose to go. That this all happened for a reason...and I don't really believe that. Because while I can point out 101 wonderful things that happened in the wake of his death I never believe that is WHY he died...but, taking me out of the equation: why was HIS life taken? Why was he given such a brief time? Why did he have to suffer and die inside of me as his life source got cut off? What reason is good enough that he didn't get to life his life? What did he have to "learn"? He was a tiny baby who needed his mommy and daddy. The one time he needed me, I couldn't save him. Even though I had the tools to do so. It wasn't on purpose and I know that. That is what gets me through the day....

Yes, I have a lot of unresolved guilt and I know I always will.

Ugh, I don't even know where I am going with this post. Some days I have great perspective on everything we lost and moving through it all and other days or moments, I don't.

Tonight; I am sad for everything he missed. His first ice cream cone. His first baseball game. Pumpkin patch trips. Getting the present you wanted SO BADLY for Christmas. First kisses. First concerts. First dates. Getting a new puppy... all of the things that make life so much fun.

I am sad for him he didn't get any of this. I am sad for us, but right now, I am more sad for him.

2008-10-19T06:10:00.000-07:00

Deviation post :)

We are winding down our "happy year". Craig likes to say "2006 was our sad year. 2007 was our anxiety filled year and 2008 is our happy year."

He would say this when anyone would inquire when I was going to get pregnant again, when I was "going to give Claudia a sibling". That comment is beyond rude, by the way. She has a sibling. Not in the traditional sense, of course. But to us: she has a sibling. Yes, she is raised as an "only" right now, but to us, she forever has a sibling. I remember when our day care provider said something to me about Claudia acting like a 'typical first born' that comment was like a knife in my stomach. Twisted. Twice. Just because, for me, she wasn't a first born. I gave birth twice. I know she doesn't realize this....and I don't hold any ill will about it, it is just one of those comments that leaves me shaking. Because...well, because she isn't a first born. And it is sad she acts like a first born.

Ha, okay, Sorry for the tangent.

So, this year is winding down, Halloween is in a few weeks and that is the last big "holiday" that is a first for us. Then in November, it is her birthday. Which, of course, is huge.

I have so many reflections on the first year of her life that I will save after her first birthday. And I do know that our 'happy year' isn't going anywhere. It will continue. It is more...normal now. Each holiday will still be special. Sure, it is not the first we have celebrated with her, but regardless in a child's eyes each year is new, each year is fun.

Last Sunday, we went to a remembrance service at the hospital where I had Curtis. It was a nice service, I got up and read a few of my writings about him and her. I am too lazy to link it up right now, but they have been posted on here. It always catches me off guard how much I still ache. I guess because life has continued, the pain is always there but more constant dull ache as opposed to the sharp, hard to breathe, moments of the past. So standing up in front of everyone, reading something about him, it may as well have been June of 2006 when I couldn't even function.

So, while 2008 really has been a happy year, we have so much to be happy for and nothing can ever erase the joy we have felt. And nothing can erase the pain we have felt. I am seeing, more and more, how those two go hand in hand for us. They always will. You cannot celebrate her without remembering him. The two are forever linked. Our family will never be together as it should be. In celebrating with her, we have to remember and grieve him. That is just the way our family is now.

2008-10-14T17:46:00.001-07:00

Our Story Part 14

Taking him home

When we had Curtis' service, his urn was on back order. Figured. They asked us at the service if we wanted to take the "loaner" urn home with us and trade it back in when the teddy bear urn came in. Or they could hold the ashes until the urn came in and give us a call.

For some reason, I couldn't take home the loaner urn. For one, it was ugly. This huge, brass colored thing with a gigantic cross on it. It was a far cry from the cute teddy bear sitting on alphabet blocks. I just didn't want that thing in my house. It wasn't comforting, it was scary. It didn't make me think fondly of my son, it made me angry.

So, we waited for his ashes.

In the mean time, on a random Thursday, I went out to get the mail and saw an envelope from the hospital. Thinking it was some kind of sympathy card from the nurses, I opened it up and out tumbled a picture of Curtis.

I suddenly remembered being in the hospital that day and them stating the professional organization that does the newborn photos offered to take a free set of pictures. It is the only photo we have with his hat off. They clearly touched up the photo as his head his nice and round and doesn't have the ridge I remember. They sent me a few 5x7s in color and black and white and a few wallet size. I was so damn excited about this "long lost" photo I had forgotten about. I called Craig right away. "We got a new picture! We got a new picture!"

He left work early and raced home to see it.

He realized half way into his drive he should be racing home to see his son, not a picture of him. It was a somber moment as I greeted him at the door with the last new picture we ever had of our baby. He held it in his hands and looked down at this photo. Tears filled both of our eyes.

In the weeks that followed, we anxiously wondered where in the world our son's urn was. We called Colin and he said it would be in soon. We were anxious to bring him home.

Finally, we got the call the urn was in. I wasn't back to work quite yet, and I told Craig I could pick the ashes up. He hesitated and said "I want to go with you." We met at the funeral home one late summer afternoon to finally take Curtis home.

Colin handed us the cute urn and I turned it over in my hands. Finally holding Curtis again. I looked at the urn and it struck me this was it. This was my son. This was his ashes. This was the only thing I had.

We walked out to the cars and looked at each other. We had two cars, but both of us wanted to take him home with us. Craig finally opened the backseat to my car and said "He should ride in the back seat." He carefully put the urn in the car and shut the door. He walked slowly to his car, as tears ran down my face.

I got in the front seat, started the car, and drove us home.

It wasn't the way I had wanted, it wasn't the way I had intended, but Curtis was coming home with us. Craig and I walked in the house together. Craig took the urn out of my hands and carefully placed it on Curtis' shelf in the curio cabinet, next to his photos and next to the small teddy bear he was posed with in the hospital. He carefully shut the door to the curio cabinet and I turned on the light so it was shining down on his urn.

Later that night, as we were heading upstairs to go to bed, Craig shut off the light in the curio cabinet. I asked why, as I liked the light shining on him at all times. Craig looked at me, looked at the urn and said "Well, I just...he can't sleep with the light on."

2008-10-01T18:33:00.000-07:00

Our Story Part 13

Our Birthdays

Craig and I 12 days apart, his birthday the end of June, my the beginning of July. Our birthdays were rapidly approaching.

The hospital had a support group every 4th Thursday of the month. Even though that landed on Craig's birthday, we agreed it would be wonderful for us to go. They required reserving the spot, which I did online. I didn't want to call the number. I didn't want to call some random secretary on the phone and say "Yes. I would like to attend one of your support groups. The one for people with dead babies. Thanks."

The day of the support group, I received a call from the social worker saying we were the only people to state they were coming. We were still welcome to, but....she trailed off. I got it. I understood. No point in wasting her day. I said, it was fine. She asked what happened and I briefly stated it. She launched into some social worker type stuff about grief and I cut her off.

"I get it. I have a social work degree too. I know exactly what you are going to say. Have you been through a loss?"

"Well, no. But..."

"No, I know what you are going to say. I have had all that training too. I was just hoping for some help, to meet other couples. I am fine. I have women online I talk to for support. I have support like crazy, I just wanted something for my husband. He doesn't have the support I do. "

And I hung up.

What I stated was 100% correct. I had (have) an amazing group of women online that I met during my wedding planning and pregnancy with Curtis. When we lost him, they all felt it too. A lot of them pregnant around the time I was. I then found a grief board where women with stillbirths came together and posted. I truly felt like I had support. But I knew Craig and I needed something as a couple.

So I was pissed. Here we stuck our necks out, and it felt like our heads got chopped off.

Honestly, I think Craig was glad. We spent his 31st birthday at a restaurant, drinking beer, and watching baseball. The way he would have originally liked.

It would be a long time before I involved us in a support group. And it was worth the wait. It was the group and the organization that helped get my daughter here alive and well.

With my birthday looming, so was my return to work. I became extremely nervous. I had become accustomed to my nice little cocoon of sitting in my house, cuddling with my dog, and chatting online. I preferred it. I enjoyed it. The only person I had to please was myself. Money wasn't an issue. Some wonderful, generous, person at my work donated me all of their sick time. I actually returned to work with a week of time off left. Who can take 5 weeks off and have that happen? I never was able to find out who did that, but I am forever grateful.

Craig's grandmother's birthday is the day after mine. She was turning 90 that year and plans had been in the works for 6 months of a huge 90th birthday bash. Relatives were coming in from out of state. A huge catered lunch had been planned. It was suppose to be a fun filled weekend of Craig's cousins and extended family.

This side of the family wasn't around when I was pregnant. They lived out of state. We didn't hear from them after our loss. Curtis was merely a blip on their radar before they came out. That made a few things that happened that weekend so difficult.

Like one of Craig's cousins sitting down next to me and talking with my sister in law. (My sister in law has young daughters and the cousin had older children). The cousin starts going on about kids and how each stage is fun, how as they grow up and become their own people she falls more and more in love with her children. Each stage she loves because each stage shows her how she made the right choice becoming a mom.

Another one of Craig's cousins saying they went through something similar. A miscarriage early in a pregnancy. Not that miscarriages aren't hard (as you will see in a future post) but it is different than a 40 week stillbirth. Trust me.

Then that same night they were putting together poster board of pictures, one of which was all the great grand kid pictures. One cousin's wife gets exasperated and says "Dang it! We need more great grand kids. We don't have enough pictures."

I have to walk out of the house that time.

Another time during the weekend, my sister in law was talking to me about special needs children and said "I think that would be the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent."

Yeah? Really? Try having your kid die.

I work with special needs kids. Do I think for a second the parents have it easy? No. I see the grief and heartache these parents go through. I do not know what it is like to live with it. But I do see the parent's eyes light up when their child says I love you. I see their eyes light up when their non vocal child laughs for the first time. I think those moments count a lot.

So, as I am standing outside, Craig comes out. He wraps his arms around me and we just stand there.

We should have a 4 week old. We shouldn't even be at this house, this time of night. It would be too hard with a tiny baby. We start talking how awesome it would have been to have an "excuse" like that to get out of family functions.

I tell him what our sister in law said about kids with special needs. Craig cocks his head, looks at me and says "Heck, I would take a kid with three eyes! I mean, I would take him to the doctor a lot...."

Craig. He can always make me laugh even at one of my worst moments. Even when I don't want to laugh. Even when it annoys me.

So, on my 31st birthday, I spent the day at a Mass and at a party for Craig's grandma. It was hard. Not that it was my birthday, but that I should have a baby boy in my arms. I should have dressed him in the plaid overalls and white button up shirt I had already picked out for the party. I should be exhausted for very different reasons.

Later that night, one of Craig's cousins, a few sheets to the wind, started asking about Curtis. Grateful to talk, the story tumbled out of us. He was 6lbs, 10oz. Looked like a sleeping baby. 100% normal. Nothing was wrong with him. Craig's nose. Totally. She held our hands, sobbed, and said over and over how sorry she was. How she didn't realize before. She talked to our father in law, and stated the same thing to him. To this day, she remains one of my favorites. For taking the time to learn about Curtis, to asking about him during the weekend. For letting us share him.

We drove home late that night. As we pulled into our driveway, there was Happy Birthday sign outside our little yard. My parents. Flowers on the counter. It was very sweet. They were trying to go to extra lengths to make the day something to remember.

We came in, and Craig gave me my birthday present. Emerald stone butterfly necklace and earrings. Emeralds being Curtis' birthstone. I ran my finger over the pretty stones with a sad smile. They were beautiful. Exactly what I would have picked out for myself.

2008-09-29T16:43:00.000-07:00

Our Story Part 12

The Marathon

About a week and a half after Diane died, Craig's brother and one of Diane's sons Rick (not Craig's best friend) were running in Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, MN. Shortly after we lost Curtis but before Diane died, Craig's brother told us he would like to dedicate his run in Curtis' memory.

Grandma's Marathon is a big deal, with rooms reserved months and month in advance. Diane and her husband had been planning on going to see their son run so she had worked on getting us a hotel room. Prices were astronomically high so we decided to share a room with Craig's friend Jer.

Then Diane died, and the world came crashing down around all of us. Again. We decided to go ahead and go to the marathon. Diane's son, Rick, was still going to run. Craig's brother was running. So on a very rainy night in June, we headed the 2 hours north. We could barely see the road on most of the drive up. Jer was driving and by the time we got to the hotel, it was late, and we were all exhausted. Somehow, we ended up watching a local cable access show called "Average Guys". It was two middle age men who "talked" sports. In their basement. Like Sports Center. Except, without the knowledgeable anchors and clips and, well, flash. It was ridiculously funny without meaning to be. The three of us laughed hysterically at this show. In fact, we still talk about it all the time.

The next morning was the marathon. We had to walk quite a few miles to the finish line. I was just over 2 and half weeks post partum at this point. I had tore pretty bad and was hurting and bleeding heavily by the time we got to the finish line. We waited patiently for Craig's brother to pass by us. He had made a tank top that had Curtis' picture and "Running in Memory of Curtis 5.31.2006" on it. He told us later people had cheered him on saying "Go for Curtis!" quite a few times during the race. It really meant a lot to us.

After the race was over, a group of us went out for pizza. I remember sitting at this table, ordering some pizza, everyone chatting and just wanting to sink into the ground. I was so sick of everything being normal. I wanted to stand up and scream to the packed restaurant "MY SON DIED! WHY DON'T YOU PEOPLE CARE? HOW CAN YOU KEEP LIVING YOUR LIFE WHEN MY SON DIED?" Even my husband, just chattering away, making his jokes, he seemed so normal. I knew he wasn't. I knew he was dying inside. I knew he missed Curtis just as much as I did. I knew he wished like hell we were sitting home with our 3 week old son marveling at baby spit up. But on the outside of everyone we looked like any other normal group from that weekend. However, we weren't. We had just lost our son. Our in laws just lost a grandson, nephew, and dear friend. Our friends just had lost their mom. We were a shattered and broken bunch. Ordering pizza. Because life ticks on.

I couldn't walk back to the hotel, I was very sore and aching. My brother in law, who had just run the race, offered to drive me back to the hotel. There is a big party atmosphere after the marathon and everyone else wanted to partake in it. I was in desperate need of a nap and alone time. I couldn't pretend anymore. I was broken. I didn't want to hang out in some bars or party tent with hundreds of people. No small talk. I just wanted to be broken. All by myself.

I immediately sunk onto the hotel bed and closed my eyes. Images of Curtis flashed through my head and I tried so hard to remember what it felt like to hold him. I fell into a deep sleep.

Later, I woke up and wandered the hotel looking for something to eat. There was an indoor water park that had a snack bar. I ordered a hamburger and watched the kids play. There was a dad, of course, with 2 sons. He was picking up each one and throwing them into one of the pool areas. They were screeching and laughing. "Again, Dad!" could be heard throughout the water park area.

Dads and sons. Gets me every time.

I took my sad burger back to the room and ate it in front of the TV. Throughout the night, Craig kept calling to check in on me. Was I okay. Should he come back to the room. Yes. No. One thing everyone tells you: men and women grieve differently. It was true. I think Craig found comfort in fun, routine activities. Stuff we would have done had we never had a child. Where I found comfort in being alone and not having to put on a brave face. I wanted him to have fun. And honestly, it felt good being by myself but some where far from home.

I remember changing into short to wear to bed, sitting on my bed, just running my fingers over my teddy bear tattoo. "Curtis Roger 5.31.2006" Over and over I touched it. He was real. I have the tattoo to prove it. Even though I often wonder what the hell happened. Was it imagined? Did it really happen? The tattoo reminds me of how real it all was and is. Then and now. So, I sit and looked at my tattoo. And missed my little baby boy.