Today I took a big big big step. Huge. And I am proud of myself. I spent the day with my sister and her 8 week old baby boy. I let myself hold him close to my heart. I felt his tiny hands, I swayed back and forth when I stood up holding him. I loved him. I spent a long time with him in my arms and I let myself feel what it feels like to hold a baby again. I allowed my heart to be opened today. The kids came home from school, I had a dirty kitchen and about 50 other things that "should" be done, only I didn't even care about those things. They were non important. I just wanted to sit forever and hold him. I wished he was my Tesslee. I desperately wished it was her I was holding. I would drop everything and sit on the couch and not worry about a single thing other than memorizing her weight in my arms, and spending every single second of my day with her.
I invited my sister and her kids over. I honestly was worried about how my reaction would be. Would I have to ignore him? Would I have to pretend he wasn't there? Would I have a breakdown and make her feel bad that she came over? Am I stable enough to handle a baby, a diaper bag, a car seat in my presence, and not just any baby, but a baby who is close to my heart? I was in the bathroom doing my hair this morning while all these thoughts were running through my head, and Ellee peeked in, came up to me and said clearly, "Mom, just don't worry." and scurried out of the bathroom. I'm sure Tesslee sent her in to me with that message. Ellee is amazing. She is my comfort. She is a precious gift in this heartbreak. My little 2 year old.
I've found that the babies I love so much are the ones that I've had the hardest time being around. Most of my sisters have had babies since Tesslee passed away, and I have not been strong enough to visit them. Its been a long, hard year. Babies that I am not emotionally tied to aren't as hard to be around (yes, hard, but not as hard.) But a baby who I already love, who already means something to me, ones who most definitely knew Tesslee very well, her friends, those babies are the ones who I have not been able to be around yet. I think today may have been a pivotal point in my grieving process. I definitely moved forward. I am so proud that I went through with this. I don't know whats in store for tomorrow, or how I will feel in a day or two, grief is tricky. But I think that my Tesslee and my Vick are very happy with my progress today. And I am very grateful to Em for allowing me to move at my own pace, to take the steps when I am ready, for letting me progress on my terms, and for not abandoning me in the process.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Emotions Felt Today
It hit me hard tonight that Vick would be 16 weeks tomorrow. I remember being that far along with Tesslee so well and just ecstatic to find out in a few days what her gender was. I cannot even believe I lost him. Its not real to me. Its so not right. No one should ever have to feel this pain. How did that happen? What was wrong? I hate Scheel's. I cannot ever go there again without that immense sadness of being reminded that that was the last public place he was with me. I walked around as much as I could, cramping and scared inside but putting on a happy face for my kids, riding the ferris wheel knowing I was losing him and it was only a matter of time. If only I could've saved him. When walking was no longer comfortable I just sat at the bar and waited for the kids to be finished looking around. It was torture knowing Vick was slipping from me. I had had enough. I was sick of smiling, pretending to the world that I was fine. I wasn't fine. My baby girl was snatched from me, I wasn't even in a safe place yet in my grief with her. How could I be losing the pregnancy that I was relying on? Vick was my rainbow at that point. He was going to give me hope back. That was his job. Was that too much weight for him to carry? I hated smiling for the camera earlier that day! That was truly the biggest deceit of my life. I hate the drs office! I hate that room! I hate Alta View hospital! I hate that stupid elevator and the cheery people I get stuck with riding down! I hate the parking lot! I hate that I am not 16 weeks pregnant right now! I should be! I hate that my baby came far, far to early and I could not do anything to save him. I hate that my healthy baby girl was strangled by the cord. All of that was going on inside me and I had no idea. I'm so saddened and a little shocked to find that I am (still) producing colostrum after birthing Vick, which will never be of any use in this life. Why does that have to happen? Its such a harsh blow to top it all off. I guess it is proof that I was and am his mother. Some days I feel strengthened to carry this heavy burden, this is not one of those days.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
A Bereaved Dad
He Lost His Baby Too!
It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry"
and "men are strong".
... No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry"
and "men are strong".
... No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake .
It must be very difficult
To start each day a new .
And try to be so very brave-
He lost his baby too.
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake .
It must be very difficult
To start each day a new .
And try to be so very brave-
He lost his baby too.
~Author Unknown
Convinced
I've been reading through some posts I didn't publish. This was written October 6, 2012.
I have posted a lot about Ellee's gift of knowing when and how to comfort me. Yesterday I had another experience I want to always remember about Ellee. I was laying on the couch, taking a moment for myself, as the kids played around me. My thoughts drifted to Tesslee and my eyes began to well up with tears. At the exact moment when tears filled my eyes, Ellee, who had her back turned to me and was playing with the kids, dropped what she was doing, ran over to me and kissed my forehead, placed her head onto mine, and then said "Want Tesslee?" I said, "Yes." She ran and got her blanket, pillow, and TessleeBear and dragged them over to me. She placed them in my arms and then gave me another hug. I have no doubt in my mind that she was given the special gift of being aware of my needs and is the physical person who is capable of giving me comfort from Tesslee when I need it.
I have posted a lot about Ellee's gift of knowing when and how to comfort me. Yesterday I had another experience I want to always remember about Ellee. I was laying on the couch, taking a moment for myself, as the kids played around me. My thoughts drifted to Tesslee and my eyes began to well up with tears. At the exact moment when tears filled my eyes, Ellee, who had her back turned to me and was playing with the kids, dropped what she was doing, ran over to me and kissed my forehead, placed her head onto mine, and then said "Want Tesslee?" I said, "Yes." She ran and got her blanket, pillow, and TessleeBear and dragged them over to me. She placed them in my arms and then gave me another hug. I have no doubt in my mind that she was given the special gift of being aware of my needs and is the physical person who is capable of giving me comfort from Tesslee when I need it.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Firsts All Over Again
The voids in my heart are more apparent than usual today, it hurts so much it is painful to breathe. I've been finding myself reliving firsts all day long. I don't know why today is any more significant than any other day lately, but I've had to fight back the tears often.
I know another break down is coming. I welcome the breakdowns. They renew my spirit and relieve the pain. I just don't want my kids to see them any more. They always say, "Mom, you're crying again." Moms are supposed to be strong. They are the ones who comfort and are the ones who always know just what to say and how to fix everything. I wish I could be seen again as that mom. Instead its my kids who comfort me. I love looking deeply into their eyes, seeing them look back at me. I love to listen to their heartbeats. I love to feel their hands holding mine and see the creases in their feet. I love how Ellee pulls me close and kisses my forehead. Mike and the kids are holding me together. Today I miss my two little angels so desperately. My arms are just aching for them and my heart longs for them.
We went bowling today. The same bowling alley we went to a few weeks after Tesslee passed-which was my "first time forcing myself to put on a smile and join the real world again" activity. That was the day I met my first angel mom in public. I had recognized her shirt as one of the "Walk of Remembrance" shirts I had seen online. I had to go up and meet someone who knew this pain. We instantly had this bond and shared our stories. We both told each other how sorry we were that the other was called to go through this too. She showed me her baby boy's name on the back of her shirt. I think I will relive that experience every time I go to the bowling alley.
Later on today I went to a parent's meeting for my son's upcoming school play. I didnt' even have it in the for front of my mind until the director began speaking and my mind flashed back to last year this same time when they were collecting parent volunteers at the meeting to paint the set and help out backstage, etc. I knew I wanted to help as much as I could, but I couldn't be around paint fumes, and would be awkward on my feet, not able to lift much or help backstage as I got further along with Tesslee. The sorrow intensified to almost unbearable as I fought back the tears and tried to swallow reality, that I never got to that point. She lived her entire life before I even got to see her beautiful eyes staring back at me. Its so hard to go on each day, recognizing her absence from every thing we do. My mind was far away from the parent meeting tonight.
After the meeting I was driving Mike's car home and had another flashback of the last time I drove his car. It was 2 days before I lost my sweet Vick and I was beginning to get those impressions that I was going to miscarry. I was driving home by myself, well, just Vick and I, and I was talking to him all the way home. The smell of the old car and its boat-like rolling along made me feel like Vick was with me again. I miss him so much. I would be 14 weeks along with him. I see the women at church who have just announced their new pregnancies and are in that club of all the women who will be delivering together again, and it hurts so much to have once again belonged with them, but only briefly, and no longer. And none of them even know that I was. I smile. I nod. I see them happily patting their bellies, munching on snacks and just generally glowing, and it hurts so deep.
I haven't begun to figure out how to manage grieving for two different babies at the same time. I feel stunned, unorganized and scatter-brained. I am trying to do the best I can, and to move forward with the future. It is an overwhelmingly large task. I am taking one day at a time.
This is has definitely been one of those grief days. Tonight I am going to cuddle up with Mike, possibly cry some, talk about our babies, hold each other and know the intense the pain of having these precious angel children binds us together even stronger. I'm going to get myself through this emotional day.
I know another break down is coming. I welcome the breakdowns. They renew my spirit and relieve the pain. I just don't want my kids to see them any more. They always say, "Mom, you're crying again." Moms are supposed to be strong. They are the ones who comfort and are the ones who always know just what to say and how to fix everything. I wish I could be seen again as that mom. Instead its my kids who comfort me. I love looking deeply into their eyes, seeing them look back at me. I love to listen to their heartbeats. I love to feel their hands holding mine and see the creases in their feet. I love how Ellee pulls me close and kisses my forehead. Mike and the kids are holding me together. Today I miss my two little angels so desperately. My arms are just aching for them and my heart longs for them.
We went bowling today. The same bowling alley we went to a few weeks after Tesslee passed-which was my "first time forcing myself to put on a smile and join the real world again" activity. That was the day I met my first angel mom in public. I had recognized her shirt as one of the "Walk of Remembrance" shirts I had seen online. I had to go up and meet someone who knew this pain. We instantly had this bond and shared our stories. We both told each other how sorry we were that the other was called to go through this too. She showed me her baby boy's name on the back of her shirt. I think I will relive that experience every time I go to the bowling alley.
Later on today I went to a parent's meeting for my son's upcoming school play. I didnt' even have it in the for front of my mind until the director began speaking and my mind flashed back to last year this same time when they were collecting parent volunteers at the meeting to paint the set and help out backstage, etc. I knew I wanted to help as much as I could, but I couldn't be around paint fumes, and would be awkward on my feet, not able to lift much or help backstage as I got further along with Tesslee. The sorrow intensified to almost unbearable as I fought back the tears and tried to swallow reality, that I never got to that point. She lived her entire life before I even got to see her beautiful eyes staring back at me. Its so hard to go on each day, recognizing her absence from every thing we do. My mind was far away from the parent meeting tonight.
After the meeting I was driving Mike's car home and had another flashback of the last time I drove his car. It was 2 days before I lost my sweet Vick and I was beginning to get those impressions that I was going to miscarry. I was driving home by myself, well, just Vick and I, and I was talking to him all the way home. The smell of the old car and its boat-like rolling along made me feel like Vick was with me again. I miss him so much. I would be 14 weeks along with him. I see the women at church who have just announced their new pregnancies and are in that club of all the women who will be delivering together again, and it hurts so much to have once again belonged with them, but only briefly, and no longer. And none of them even know that I was. I smile. I nod. I see them happily patting their bellies, munching on snacks and just generally glowing, and it hurts so deep.
I haven't begun to figure out how to manage grieving for two different babies at the same time. I feel stunned, unorganized and scatter-brained. I am trying to do the best I can, and to move forward with the future. It is an overwhelmingly large task. I am taking one day at a time.
This is has definitely been one of those grief days. Tonight I am going to cuddle up with Mike, possibly cry some, talk about our babies, hold each other and know the intense the pain of having these precious angel children binds us together even stronger. I'm going to get myself through this emotional day.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Bill
Today I got the one and only doctor bill I will ever get for my Vick. It stung my heart. I looked over it, and after processing my thoughts and emotions for my baby boy I gave a body to, but will have to wait to meet, I suddenly surprised myself with a whole new slew of emotions. I am so grateful for that doctor bill! I am so grateful I have it and that I can pay for my baby boy! It validates to me that he really did exist. I will keep it safe with his pregnancy stick and some photos.
I sooo wish I could relive November 12, 2012 over. In those minutes I was talking to the doctor and viewing Vick on ultrasound I would ask the doctor to print off a picture. Every single day I am reminded about that moment, and I see Vick's tiny body on the screen and pray that his image stays burned in my memory forever. I made up a story in my mind to help me feel better, that sometime in the future I will return to that doctor's office (and it won't be an easy thing) but I will walk into the room to get a pap smear and paper-clipped to my chart will be Vick's dear little ultrasound photo I have cried so much over. And the nurse will say, "Oh, what is this? It looks like its from a past ultrasound. Is this yours by chance?" And I will say, "Yes, I left it here by mistake once! This is a picture of my little Vick I have been missing for so long!" And I will leave that sad place with my treasure.
I will happily pay for my Vick. It is the only thing I can do for him. I wish he needed more! The bill will be one of my irreplaceable treasures. xoxo
I sooo wish I could relive November 12, 2012 over. In those minutes I was talking to the doctor and viewing Vick on ultrasound I would ask the doctor to print off a picture. Every single day I am reminded about that moment, and I see Vick's tiny body on the screen and pray that his image stays burned in my memory forever. I made up a story in my mind to help me feel better, that sometime in the future I will return to that doctor's office (and it won't be an easy thing) but I will walk into the room to get a pap smear and paper-clipped to my chart will be Vick's dear little ultrasound photo I have cried so much over. And the nurse will say, "Oh, what is this? It looks like its from a past ultrasound. Is this yours by chance?" And I will say, "Yes, I left it here by mistake once! This is a picture of my little Vick I have been missing for so long!" And I will leave that sad place with my treasure.
I will happily pay for my Vick. It is the only thing I can do for him. I wish he needed more! The bill will be one of my irreplaceable treasures. xoxo
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