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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.