Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A glimmer of hope

Wait, wait…what is this I see?  Could it be a small break in the clouds?  I think I have seen a glimpse of the hope I have been searching for.

Something has shifted over this holiday weekend.  For the first time in 8 ½ months, I have seen a glimpse of the person I once was.  I know that I will never be the same, but a spark of life came back into my soul over this weekend.  I don’t know why or how, but it did.  I am noticing it in the little things.  For example, for months I was dreading the holiday season and didn’t want to spend it with family because I was afraid it would be too painful of a reminder of the family member, my son, who is missing.  However, as Thanksgiving approached, I became eager to spend quality time with family.  I used to love entertaining and having parties at my house, and this was the first weekend that I felt joy in that again.  I was excited to set the house up, cook, make fun appetizers, take family pictures, play games, and just be with my family.  And, it was a sweet day.  At dinner, there were tears and many acknowledgements of Silas which felt so nice to hear from the mouths of my family. 

Another thing I noticed, is I started to wear make-up again.  I got all dressed up on Thanksgiving day, including make-up, but I have also been wearing make-up to go to work the last two days.  I had stopped caring about how I looked, but in these past few days, I have felt good and wanted to look good as well.

Before I became pregnant with Silas, I had been a vegetarian.  I stopped when I became pregnant because I was craving meat so much.  However, I have decided to go back to a mostly vegetarian diet (for health reasons) and last night I experimented with a new vegetarian dish.  I have never cooked with lentils before and I went to the store, bought some, and really enjoyed making a new, healthy, vegetarian meal.  I feel excited again to explore new recipes and cook with ingredients I have never used before.

It feels so good to be enjoying life again.  I don’t know how long it will last (I know these things come in waves, and don't get me wrong, I am still grieving and tears are quick to come), but I want to be fully present and mindful of this positive, hopeful, alive place I am in right now.

Speaking of being mindful, I have recently become very interested in studying Buddhism again and practicing meditation.  I thank Silas for awakening the more spiritual side of myself and I think I have finally found something that makes sense to me.  I have been doing my best to meditate almost every day for at least 15 minutes.  I will slowly increase my time as my practice becomes more integrated and easier.  On Sunday, I was meditating (which I do in the kids room) and out of nowhere, I had an overwhelming feeling that Silas was there with me.  My lips even began to tingle as if he was giving me a little kiss.  I then had this powerful urge to cradle my arms.  So, I did.  I cradled my arms and closed my eyes and sat with my son’s spirit.  It was the most amazing experience.  It is the first time in 8 ½ months that I felt like he came to me.  And, I believe it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t begun my meditation practice and convinced myself to do it in that moment even though I was tired and really wanted to go to bed.

I am just feeling so grateful for my life and the people who are in it.  I never thought I would feel this way again.  But I am, and I want to cherish this feeling while it is here.  I truly believe good things are coming, including and most especially my sweet little girl who is due to arrive in February.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011


Yesterday a fifteen year old boy in my residential treatment center had a healthy son.  I have been dealing with this planned pregnancy between him and his sixteen year old girlfriend since he entered our program in May.  Now, I am faced with the fruition of this pregnancy in a healthy baby boy to a drug addicted, manipulative, selfish boy child and his equally immature and emotionally abusive girlfriend.  I have found in dealing with this since May, I have cultivated an unhealthy dislike for this boy.  I have been faced with the evil side of myself, in a way I never have before.  Yesterday, after hearing that his girlfriend had given birth to their son, I became so angry and sad (which I emotionally vomited all of my evil thoughts onto my coworker) that these two people have their son and I don’t.  How do I make sense of that? 

With a restless night of sleep and much contemplation, I realized that I don’t really hate this kid, I hate the situation.  I hate that these two irresponsible, unfit parents get their son when my son was taken away from me.  Even eight months down the line, I have such a hard time trying to make sense of that in my head.  People say, “things happen for a reason”, but how do they explain this?  There is no explanation.  I just have to sit with the reality that things don’t make sense, these people aren’t more deserving of a child than me, but they got their child and I didn’t. 

I hate that I am constantly faced with this reality; my son is dead and other peoples aren’t.  When will the “why me’s?” go away?  Will I ever be able to accept that this is forever my reality?  When will I be able to be happy for others good fortune and healthy babies without being more sad about my loss and my crappy reality? 

Some people assume that now that I am pregnant again (51/2 months) that things are “better”.  Not perfect obviously, but as it was said to me, “I assumed that you would be able to find joy in things again”.  At first, I thought that this statement was an unfair judgment that I have no joy, but when I really think about it is kind of true.  I can laugh, I can be lighthearted, I can be hopeful for this baby, but am I truly joyful?  I don’t think so.  This baby doesn’t take away my deep despair and sadness about losing my son.  I hope maybe, if I am lucky enough to birth to an alive, healthy baby in February, that I will find some joy again in my life.  But, there will always be a hole.  My family will never be complete.  And, I don’t know if I will ever be able to get rid of the envy I have of others who do not know my reality.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

I'm back


I am so sorry that I have been completely MIA for many months.  It is not because I haven’t needed to write or that I haven’t been thinking about you all, but I just didn’t know how.  In June I found out that I was pregnant again.  I am now 20w 4days and it sure has been an interesting couple of months.  I stopped writing because I wasn’t ready to share the news with the world and didn’t know how to be on here and not talk about it.  I spent the first three months completely worried and sure that I was going to miscarry and doing everything I could to not think about the fact that I was pregnant.  But, 4 ultrasounds later and many doctor’s appointments I have now left the “miscarriage” stage of this pregnancy.  This new stage of pregnancy brings up a whole new slew of issues. 

First, being the fact that this new little baby is a girl.  I originally very much wanted another boy because I felt so robbed of being able to parent a son, however I now am thankful for a girl because I think it would have been too complicated and confusing to have another boy and trying to separate that new boy from the my son, Silas who died.  Plus, I announced it was a girl and the world wants me to be so excited.  They project their own excitement on me “Oh you must be so happy”, “look you are beaming”, etc, etc and I end up feeling guilty and crying because no I am not necessarily excited about the fact that this baby is a girl.  Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about the sex.  I am happy that at that same ultrasound I found out that this little girl is healthy and developing appropriately.  That is all I care about.  But, I spent the whole week sobbing (back into the bathroom at work to hide and cry, it has been many months since I have needed to do that) because at the ultrasound it was another realization, another slap in the fact that this baby is not Silas.  I am never going to see Silas again.  I am never going to be able to parent him and watch him grow up.  It is strange when and how these things pop up that completely throw you backwards in your grief when you thought you were doing really well. 

Secondly, this little girl is starting to kick around a lot more now.  Although that is nice and I like the reassurance, it also forces me to face the fact that I am pregnant again.  I was doing so much better when I was able to not think about it and absorb myself in books and live in some other world.  Now, I am forced to think about it which increases my anxiety and fear tenfold.  I am so worried that something terrible is going to happen to my little girl and I don’t think I can bear that.  I try hard to think positively and to be optimistic, but it is so hard after losing a baby.  I now know too well all the things that could go possibly wrong.  My new mantra is “most babies live, most babies live, most babies live”. 

Thirdly, now that I am showing more I am getting strangers asking me “is this your first”, “aren’t you so excited”, “what a wonderful journey pregnancy is”, blah, blah, blah.  I had been dreading this question for some time, but once I actually started getting it I have found that it hasn’t been too bad.  It gives me an opportunity to talk about Silas.  I don’t go into details, but I always say “No, this is not my first, I had a son who passed away during labor”.  But, it has been hard to deal with people who want to talk about this pregnancy like it is a normal pregnancy, even people who know otherwise.  It is not normal, I can’t talk excitedly and joyfully about this pregnancy.  I want this baby more than anything in the world, but I won’t be excited until this baby is in my arms, alive and screaming.  I get angry that I can’t be blissfully ignorant in the pregnancy.  I feel robbed of being able to be joyful.  And, it’s not like I don’t enjoy some aspects of being pregnant again and having this wonderful little girl growing inside of me, but it is so clouded by my fears and the anxiety about the possibility that I can lose another baby.

Lastly, it has been very difficult trying to manage both grieving for my son who passed away only 7 months ago and loving this new baby who has been growing in my womb for 5 months.  If I am sad about Silas does that mean that I am not loving this little girl?  If I am loving and singing and talking to this little girl does that mean I am forgetting about my son?  Is my grief for my son going to overshadow my love for my daughter?  I don’t want her to forever live in the shadow of her dead brother.  How can a have them both and parent them both?  How can I honor the grief that I still have for my son and still be happy about being pregnant with my daughter?  It is soo “f”ing hard! 

Okay, I think this is it for now.  I am glad to be back and hopefully it will be a more regular thing.  And, I look forward to reading your blogs again, catching up, and reconnecting.

With love,


Friday, July 8, 2011

4 months

Today my precious little boy would have been four months old and I should be celebrating.  Instead I am wallowing in self-pity and sadness because my coworker is giving birth as we speak.  She will birth a healthy baby girl 4 months to the day that my precious son died.  I should be more happy for her and I am happy, but mostly I am just sad and angry for me.  It seems like everyone gets to take home healthy, happy babies, but me.  Why me?  Why didn't I get to take home my son?  What sort of sick joke or cruel punishment is this?  I don't deserve this.  I deserve my son.  I would have been a good mom.  I loved him so much.  And, still I lost him only minutes before he was in my arms.  It's not fair.  It's just not fair.  I know we blm's say that all the time, but it is the truth.  It's not fair, it doesn't make sense, there is no reason.  It can happen to anyone, but it happened to me.  How am I supposed to move on?  How am I supposed to live?  I feel so lost?   I feel so hopeless.  I want to just crawl into a ball on my sofa and disappear.

Monday, July 4, 2011


I truly hate my life.  I hate that my son isn't here.  I hate that I can't enjoy the sames things that I enjoyed just a year ago: the fair, 4th of July parades, people.  Today, my husband is in the Novato parade.  I initially wanted to go and see him in it.  Last year, I had so much fun, but this year I know I am going to be surrounded by new moms and little babies.  We went to the fair on Saturday and I was totally unprepared for all the babies.  They were everywhere (of course if was the fair).  I hate that everywhere I turn I am reminded that I have lost the most precious thing I ever had (just briefly had).  My son should be almost four months old.  I should have brought him to the fair with me and showed him all the animals and had him listen to the reggae show, mommy's favorite type of music.  I should be putting little ear muffs on him tonight and bringing him to the fireworks show.  I should have my son. But, I don't.  Why?  Why don't I get my son?  It's not fair.  I am SO sick of everyone else getting to take home their precious little babies, of course I would never want it to be otherwise, but I want my baby too.  I love him so much and it hurts so bad!!!!  My coworker is going on maternity leave at the end of this week and I keep hearing people ooh and aah over her and her little one that will be here soon and then almost in the same breath come over to me and talk to me about some stupid thing as if my heart hadn't just been crushed by having to hear their interaction about her baby. 

Life just sucks right now....

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

So far away

My dear sweet Silas,

I feel so far away from you right now.  I was just reflecting about all that is still good in my life and maybe it is because I am focusing on that that you feel so far away.  I don't know, but I don't like it.  It has only been 3 (almost 4) months, I feel like you should be closer to me, tugging on my heart strings.  I still think of you all the time, yesterday I felt very angry that you were gone, I always feel sad, but now in a numb way. Maybe I don't feel close to you because I am not crying.  I haven't really cried in awhile.  I don't like that.  Am I wrong to not be crying?  Am I wrong to feel I need to be crying to show you that I love you or to feel close to you?  I hate it when I lose my tears.  My hearts cries for you all the time, but my eyes don't always follow.  I hear about women farther away from their loss who cry all the time.  Should I be like them?  Is that what proves that I am a good mom, that I love you and miss you with every fiber of my being?

I am afraid that I am unconsciously putting up my defenses and pushing you away.  So many bad things in my life I have forgotten because that has been my natural defense.  Forget it and you won't feel it.  I don't want to do that with you.  I never, ever, ever want to forget you.  I know that I won't, I can't.  But, I can unconsciously push you away so that I don't feel so much.  Is that what is happening?  Or, is this just a plateau and I will find my tears again?  This grief thing is so tricky.  I know that this has happened before.  I thought that I had lost my tears only to have them wash over me again even more intense.  But, this time is longer  between losing and then finding my tears again.

I so much try and not judge myself in this process and to accept my grief however it looks, but it is hard.  It is hard to not think there is a "right" way to grieve and I am doing it the wrong way.  And, that this wrong way somehow reflects on what type of mother I am and how much I love you.  I don't ever want anyone to questions my love for you.  But, why do I even care?  I know how I feel about you and as long as you know that too, I don't care about anyone else.

Do you know that I love you?  With or without tears my heart aches for you everyday.  I am going to try so hard not to put up a wall.  I don't want that wall. I want to be close to you. I want to feel having lost you.  It is all just so scary.  Feeling it is so scary, but not feeling it is even scarier.

I love you my precious boy,

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Good things

I had started to contemplate what is still positive in my life (my marriage, my job, my core group of friends) and the positives that have been created from my loss.  The latter is hard to swallow because I don't want to acknowledge that anything positive has come out my my son's death, but in reality it has.  A fellow BLM, Karen said it perfectly,

"Lately, I have also been having more positive moments of actually seeing the loss as giving me the gift of new friendships, the gift of appreciation for things I would have taken for granted in the past, the gift of wanting to bring more awareness to our cause, the gift to be more open about death, the gift of compassion (with an intense desire to want to "pay it forward" by helping and supporting others who have gone through this type of loss), etc. "

All of this is true in my own life as it is in hers.  She just expressed it so eloquently.  I honestly had taken my marriage for granted before becoming pregnant.  Once, I became pregnant with Silas I saw how amazing of a man and future daddy I had married.  After Silas died, our love for each other grew even stronger.  It is only in this great tragedy that we have seen how much love we have for each other and I have become aware that the man I married will stick by my side through thick and thin.  He has been so patient with my grief process, always encouraging me to express myself, to walk, to yell, to hit, to cry, whatever feels right for me.  He has shared his own grief by crying and being vulnerable, by not being afraid to talk about our son and sharing his sadness.  This has made me feel so less alone.  

I never imagined that I would establish such amazing friendships with other BLMs that live locally and all over the world.  There are only a few that I feel truly close too, but they have been so amazingly supportive to me.  They have reached out to me in times when I needed that extra support.  They have listened, counseled, shared, comforted, cried, outraged, consoled, yelled, and so much more with me throughout these past 3 months.  They have not coward away when I have shown the uglier sides of myself and the darkest moments of my grief.  It is amazing that through our shared experience we can bond so deeply in such a short amount of time.  

I have also been surprised by those RL friends who have been there for me through this as well.  Over the weekend, I vacationed with friends, some who have been around through these months and others who have not really, but I felt with them that I could truly be myself.  Before going, I was nervous about how I was going to be around them, what I could share, what I couldn't, what I really even wanted from them.  I thought that for them to be "good friends" and support me I had to be comfortable breaking down in front of them, crying, etc.  But, I realized when I was there that that is not what I want from them or what I need.  I know that I prefer crying and falling apart privately (or online to my BLM friends).  What I found so amazing about these friends is the way they unknowingly supported me by allowing me to talk and by talking with me about Silas and my pregnancy without question.  They were completely comfortable, not any signs of them being uncomfortable: awkward silences, looks, etc.  They were completely open to talking about my pregnancy even joking about some of it, talking about Silas, my volunteering with Faces of Loss, etc.  And, not in a serious, deep way, but just talking.  Maybe mentioning something in passing.  It was amazing that my pregnancy, my loss, my son was an okay topic to discuss or not discuss.   I had no idea what I needed until I was there.  I tried talking about it to see if it would be okay and how they would react and they were wonderful.  It allowed me to relax and really enjoy myself knowing that they weren't trying to shove my loss under the table, but recognizing it and being open to listen and share as if it was any other topic of discussion that could have been had.  They have no idea how much that means to me.  I had no idea until this weekend.  

I feel so blessed to have all of the love and support.  This too I must have taken for granted.  I had no idea how many people cared about my husband, me, Silas until he passed away.  I have been constantly surprised by those who have reached out in such amazing ways.  It has made such an impact on us.  I know that this journey would be so much more unbearable without all of the love and support that has been showered upon us.  Sometimes, I forget or am unable to recognize how much support we have because my grief is so strong and no amount of support will take it away.  But, when those darkest times pass, I can see that the love is there.  

Lastly, like Karen I have found such a passion to support other women in this community, to "pay it forward", and to spread awareness.  It is so deep in me to give back, to help change the medical system to better support the 1 in 4 women who will experience this type of loss.  Since, I have started giving back my grief has changed significantly.  So much of my anguish has been channeled and focused in outreach and volunteering projects.  It has helped to know that something positive can come from my son's death.  He saved another child or twos life by donating his heart and I will continue his legacy by helping others in whatever way that I can and to ensure (as much as I can) that women who experience child loss have the support that they need. 

So although it is sometimes hard to wrap my head around the fact that positive things can come out of something so tragic, they have and I am grateful for it.  I wish with every ounce of my being that my son was here and I would trade these good things in a heartbeat (his heartbeat) for him to be here, but he is gone and I am not.  I have to continue to live and I deserve to have good things and to do good things.  I know that is what my son would want for me. 

Have you been able to recognize positive things in your life that emerged after or because of your loss?

Friday, June 17, 2011

Life is so unfair!

Today a friend lost her third baby.

Her first son died at 26 weeks, her second son at 18 weeks, and this sweet child at 20 weeks.  My heart is very heavy and sad for her today.  I just can't understand how this could continue to happen.  How can she be the 1 in 200 three times in a row.

It is just heartbreaking and so fucking unfair!!!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Outside the box

My dear, sweet boy,

I am so thankful that you came into my life.  I am thankful for the precious 42 weeks I was able to spend with you.  I held you for every second of your life.  What a gift.

I realized that in my grief of losing you I have spent the majority of my days dwelling in negativity.  I dwell on how sad and empty my life is without you and what it should be.  I dwell on those in my life who have disappeared when I have needed them the most.  I dwell on the fact that my body is different and none of my close fit me anymore.  I dwell on the insensitive little things people say that affect me so deeply and sets me in a downward spiral.  And, that I now feel like holding a grudge against these people, where before I was so forgiving.  I dwell on the fact that my doctor isn’t being as supportive as I hope he would be.  I dwell on the fact that every day is another day further away from when I had you.  I dwell on my fear that every day your memory is going to start to blur and fade in my mind and completely disappear from everyone else’s minds.  I dwell on how much more negative and impatient I am.  How I used to think I was really compassionate and non-judgmental, but my tolerance for other people’s bullshit problems is very small. 

But, recently, I have also started to notice the positives.  I have started to see glimpses who this “new” me is becoming.  I have started to see how although I am so very sad that you are not alive, healthy, and in my arms, that you have also made positive changes in my life.  I will continue to explore and keep my eye out for these little glimpses of positivity. Right now, the biggest one I have noticed is that my fear of social awkwardness has lessened.  This started while I was still pregnant with you.  I used to be the type of person that would avoid interacting with acquaintances or strangers like the plague because the idea of an awkward encounter was so anxiety producing for me.  However, while 4 or 5 months pregnant with you, I met a woman online who was also pregnant.  I pushed my fear aside and met her, a complete stranger, for coffee.  She was very nice and although there were some awkward moments overall I enjoyed my time chatting with her and sharing our excitement of being pregnant.

After you died, I have pushed myself even further.  I have met and reached out to so many women online in an attempt to create new friendships.  I attended a loss group and then initiated contact with a woman from that group and got coffee with her last week.  She is wonderful and I am excited for this budding new friendship.  Over the weekend, I drove 2 ½ hours to support a new friend (and my hub’s old high school friend) by walking with her and donating to a cause that supports children with disabilities (her sweet little girl has CP).  This is something I would have NEVER done in the past, but she has been so incredibly sweet and kind to us, I couldn’t not meet her in person and try and establish more than an online friendship.  And, most recently I have offered to speak publicly in a staffing meeting at our local hospital to help educate the nurses and doctors on how to better support women whose babies are born still in their hospital.  I am excited, but also terrified.  However, I know I have your support and strength to help me.  You have allowed me to grow in ways I never thought I would or never even wanted to.  I feel proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone and I hope you are proud of me too.

I love you more than words can express,

Your mommy

Monday, June 13, 2011

A meeting with the hospital

Okay, so I felt like torturing myself today so I went back to the hospital for Silas' medical records and then popped into Labor and Delivery to have a chat with the head of the department. While I waited for her I thought I was going to have a panic attack and pass out, but the conversation ended up being good. She has now asked me to come to a staff meeting to share my experience and help educate the staff on how they can better support women who experience stillbirth in their hospital. Now, I need your help…

What type of support would you have liked to have been given by the hospital that you didn't get?

What did they do that you liked?

What suggestions do you have that could have improved your stay there?

A few of my suggestions will be:
1.  Offer NILMDTS services. The brochure was in a folder they gave me, but they didn't point it out or explain it to me. Thus, I didn't get as many pictures as I would have liked.

2. Ask more often if I want to hold my son. I was in such shock that I didn't hold him that long and I wish that was different.

3. Offer to let me bath and clothe my son


The world is playing tricks on me. 

 Right now, I am stuck in the HS classroom at my work where the lesson plans is about poetry on death and dying.  I feel stupid that this is triggering me, but it is.  It is abstract poetry and nothing about babies dying, but I don’t want to spend 4 hours talking about death and pretending to be interested and engaged in the lesson when in reality all I am thinking about is my own little boy’s death. 

Yesterday, I went to get a massage and the therapist asked if I had children and I said no (without even thinking), I SAID no!  Oh the guilt.  Granted, she was asking me questions about my work and lifestyle and how it affected my body.  So, when she asked me about kids I knew she was referring to little children running around or having to lug a child on my hip, both of which I I don't.  So, in the way she meant it, the answer is no.  But still, right after the words came out of my mouth, I felt so guilty.  I swore I would never not acknowledge my son, but I did without even thinking or contemplating, it just came out of my mouth.  What kind of mother does that make me?  What kind of mother am I?  I just don’t know… 

I just can't believe this is my life.  I wish it wasn't. 

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

3 months

In a parallel universe, I am celebrating my son turning 3 months old today.  In a parallel universe, his is giggling, and smiling, and cooing at me.  In a parallel universe, I am on maternity leave and loving my beautifully alive little boy. 

In this universe, I am crying because my son should have been 3 months old today.  In this universe, I am crying because N asked me what milestones would Silas be making right now at 3 months old and I couldn’t answer because I don’t know, I don’t have a 3 month old showing me what those are. 

In this universe, I am happy that today I became a part of the Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope team and will be helping post people’s stories to the site.  In this universe, I am hoping that my son is looking down on me and is proud that through my sadness I am finding a way to do something positive and give back to the BLM community as these women have given so much to me. 

In this universe, today is bittersweet.  Mostly bitter, but a little sweet.  Thank you Kristin at Faces of Loss, for giving me this opportunity and welcoming me to your team of awesome women.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011


People have said they would be here to pick up the pieces (most of which have been only words), but now is the time, I am FUCKING falling apart, and I am so scared.

I just left work because I started crying as I walked into a meeting full of people.  I just can't hold it together…

tomorrow will be three months since I held my baby in my arms…..THIS FUCKING SUCKS!


I think I am experiencing panic attacks again.  This hasn’t happened to me for a long time.  When I was younger, I was a full-fledged hypochondriac.  I spent many nights falling asleep sure that I would not wake up in the morning, because I always had trouble breathing (which I now know was related to anxiety).  For a time, I also suffered from pretty bad vertigo and would wake up in the middle of the night with it and sure that I had been bitten by a mutant daddy longlegs with a huge mouth (because they are supposedly the most poisonness spider, but their mouths aren’t big enough to bite you).  I was the girl that tended to have random physical pains and aches and would immediately associate them with some deathly illness, look up the symptoms on WebMD for brain aneurysm, heart failure, tumors, cancer, blood clots, etc and then my body would play tricks on me and I was sure I was feeling all of the symptoms and was minutes away from death.  I won’t go into all the details about how bad it has been at times, but through the years I have gotten much more control over this and have usually been able to talk myself down knowing that it was in my head.

However, since losing Silas this fear of death has started to creep up again.  For example, I was at the gym yesterday and got this sharp pain in the top of my head and immediately went to the thought that I was suffering a brain aneurysm.  I prepared myself to the fact that I might keel over at any second, visualizing falling on the guy next to me on the elliptical.  I had to leave the gym early and go home.  This is when my body started to play tricks on me.  I started to get this warm sensation on the side of my face and my nose started to run a little and I was sure it was going to start pouring blood.  I just work myself up so much.  When I got home, my husband talked me down and I was able to distract myself enough and forget about it.  Now, this morning my head still feels weird and I am freaking out.  It is likely just my sinuses, but I am back to going to such an extreme.  I haven’t suffered panic attacks in a long time, but they are back and it SUCKS!!!  I could go to the doctors and get all kinds of tests, but I have done it so many times before and never has anything ever been wrong with me.  It has always been in my head. 

And, it’s not just for my own death, but I get really scared for my husband too.  He was at a concert on Sunday and I was so scared something was going to happen and he wouldn’t come home.  I can’t imagine life without him, I don’t know what I would do.  I hate feeling so scared and so out of control of my mind, my body, my emotions. 

Monday, June 6, 2011


I have a weird obsession going on with my OB that I can’t seem to make sense of or understand in my head. He was an amazing doctor throughout my whole pregnancy, very compassionate, good listener, patient, and comforting when I had concerns or worries. Recently, we have been exchanging emails over the past week about what my future looks like (trying again), whether I will see him again or choose a different doctor, whether he would be willing to do a c-section at 39weeks, and trying to figure out what happened to Silas (which we never will definitely). Anyways, I want to keep emailing him. I really don’t want to lose him as my OB even though he ultimately killed Silas and I should hate him. It feels very confusing. I don’t know why I feel so attached to him and I feel like I need to restrain myself from continuing to try and stay in contact and emailing him and spilling my guts about how I am feeling about my loss, about him, etc. I think he is just being nice when he says “keep in touch,” but I want to use that as an excuse to keep emailing him. I guess part of it is my delusion that he might bring Silas back. Or that if I lose him, I am losing a small piece of Silas. Also, he was one of the only people who really knew Silas. I feel like besides Nate and I, he was the closest to our baby and invested in his well being (although that didn’t turn out so well). It makes no sense, but I just don’t feel like I can part from him. None of it makes sense and it makes me feel crazy!

Sunday, June 5, 2011


Be forewarned that this post is a little scattered and disconnected and written at two separate times throughout the day.  This is how my mind is right now, all mixed up.

9:00am~ So, it is Sunday morning and it is quiet.  Yesterday was quiet too.  I have so much time on my hands when I should have a three-month-old baby being noisy and keeping me busy.  I feel so restless, like my body has prepared to be busy, but I have nothing to do.  I feel like I have so much cooped up energy, but no way to expel it.  I want to blog (which I am), but I don’t feel like I have words right now.  I want to paint, but I can’t think of what to paint or how to express what is inside of me.  I just feel empty.  Not without emotion, but I have nothing in me to move, to write, to paint, to be.  I want to go back to how I was in the early days when I didn’t get off of my couch, but I feel too guilty doing that.  Like, I have come further then that and it’s not okay to go backwards.  Plus, when I am doing that again I feel too restless.  I am constantly checking my email and facebook and blogs to see if anyone is saying anything.  Seeing if I have a chance to connect with anyone who understands, anyone who cares.  I feel so needy, but nothing fills my need.  I don’t know if that even makes sense.  I just know that the only time I feel somewhat at peace is when I am connecting to other babylost moms which is why I am obsessed with my facebook forum and with blogs.  My husband gets jealous of my computer and feels neglected, but this computer is my lifeline.  I can’t imagine not being on it or close to it. 

On a different note, I recently had an interesting experience.  I was at the gym and across the street was a little baby boy, less then one year old.  Previously, I would have become really upset and jealous.  Thinking why me, why my baby, everyone else gets their babies.  Then it hit me, that is a good thing.  I am still jealous, I am still why me, but it gave me hope for the future.  I had forgotten that it is more likely that babies survive.  But, when I started thinking about it there are soo soo many babies around me, so many “real life” friends, coworkers, and acquaintances having babies and only a few have stories like mine (three exact including myself).  Those odds are good, although they bring me little comfort since I have experienced the wrong side of statistics/odds.  But, that little comfort is better than no comfort or hope at all.

On another completely different note, I am going to the lake in two weeks with some friends.  Now, it should be sunny/hot, bathing suit weather.  This means that these friends are going to see my body, the body of a mother.  I still have the dark line down my tummy, stretch marks, and quite a big belly button. I am proud of my body, I am a mother and this is a mother's body, but I am nervous about how other's will react.  I doubt they will say anything and I don't know if I like that either.  My body I feel like is one of the only physical things I have that proves I am a mother.  So, part of me wants to show it off, but the other part is nervous that it will make them uncomfortable because it is a reminder of what happened.  I am a mother whose baby has died.  I feel like my body screams that.

2:00pm~  So because I was feeling restless and shitty, I decided to go do some retail therapy.  Now, this isn't really my nature.  I don't like to really spend money and I usually feel guilty afterwards, but today I though screw it.  And, off I went to Target.  I know, I know, this was a total set-up.  Once entering the store, I quickly realized I was in newborn baby hell!  However, I pursued and continued to shop.  Three pairs of shoes, cardigan, and a picture frame later I couldn't take anymore, but I had several stops I still needed to make.  One of which was Beverages and More.  My friend bought me a gift card for my baby shower which was intended to be used to purchase celebratory champagne.  That didn't happen so I thought today I will use it and go buy some beer, surely BevMo will be baby free.  Wrong, a man strolled in his newborn right before I walked in.  AAhh!  I bought my stuff and was out of there.  Last stop Trader Joe's.  Well, I kid you not a woman and her newborn baby boy walked into the store at the same time as me.  Okay, I thought I will go one way she will go the other. Nope, I swear she was following me.  Granted, TJ's isn't that big of a store, but come on.  She even checked out at the same time as me.  I did my best to fight back my tears and be quick.  I checked out, got in my car as fast as I could, and booked it out of there.  As soon as I was out of the parking lot, I lost it.  I scream, I cry, I punch my steering wheel,  "I WANT MY BABY!" "WHY, WHY, WHY!"  "Why was he taken away from me?"

Now, I am home and exhausted.  And, also frustrated.  I swear my life is constant contradictions.  Just this morning I started this post about two things, feeling hopeful when I see new babies and being proud of my mama body.  Well, clothes shopping sort of sucked which is why I ended up with three pairs of shoes.  Pants and shirts just don't fit me the same anymore.  And, I was surrounded by new babies and didn't feel hopeful.  I felt awful and ended up having a meltdown.

I can hardly trust any of my thoughts or feelings anymore because so quickly do they prove to be wrong.  Well, maybe not wrong, but they always seem to contradict each other.  You would think I was used to it by now, but it always surprises me.

Today, I should have stayed on the couch like I wanted to.  That is where I will stay for the rest of the day.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

More Time

My heart aches, it physically hurts, I am so broken hearted.  I have started thinking about the time I was able to spend with Silas.  I am not one to regret things in my life.  I tend to look back at those questionable decisions I have made or things I have done with acceptance, believing that I did the best for who I was at the time or with the knowledge that I had at the time.  However, with that being said, I very much regret having not held Silas longer.  I would give anything for just one more moment with him. 

My arms, my heart, my mind all aches to have him with me again.  I just want one more time to kiss his forehead, to bathe him, to memorize his perfect little body from head to toe.  On the day I delivered him I only held him for a few minutes.  I took the blankets off of his legs and looked and played with his precious little feet, but I didn’t see his hands or what I imagine to be his cute little tummy.  I caressed his sweet cheeks, forehead and nose, but I didn’t kiss him.  Oh the regrets, what mom doesn’t kiss her newborn baby?  And, I didn’t try and smell him.  I want to know what he smelled like.  Our doula stayed with him the whole time the doctors were trying to revive him and she said he was just perfect.  He was beautiful head to toe.  It is now in her memory, but not mine.  I am trying not to fault myself for not spending more time with him.  I was in shock.  I didn’t know that I could keep him with me for longer.  Maybe I couldn’t since he was donating his heart, I just don’t know. 

I also wish I was able to take more pictures of him.  The nurses gave me a pamphlet for NILMDTS, but they didn’t explain what it was and I didn’t look at all that they gave me until we got home.  I am an avid picture taker, it is important to me to capture events on film and make memories in that way, but I don’t have a picture of me with my baby.  I regret that.  I don’t have a picture of us as a whole family.  I regret that.  But, mostly I regret not holding him longer.  I just want one more time.  Where is my rewind button?  I know I can’t have him, but if I could just have a little more time with him.  I wish the nurses would have helped us more, guided us more, offered to take more pictures, offered to let us bathe him, offered to leave him in our room so we could spend more time with him.  I just want more time with him…

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Right Where I Am: 2 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days

Thank you Angie for starting this project.  I have relied so heavily on these blogs and being able to read what other women's journeys through grief have looked like.  It can be overwhelming though to sort through all of the different blogs to try and figure out where each person is in their process and how it has been for them.  I think this is such a great idea for us to connect to each other and get a good idea what it may look like at different stages.  I am eager to read the entries of those who are participating. 

Although, the thought of really looking at where I am at in my grief is frightening.  Most days I feel very confused by my grief, like it is playing tricks on me.  As soon as I feel like I have an understanding of where I am in my process and my feet are finally steadying themselves on the ground a huge sleeper waves sneaks up behind me, crashing over me and spinning me upside down again.  And, every time this happens I think I should have know this was coming, that this wave of grief was just around the corner waiting to suck me back under.

I feel unsatisfied in all stages of my grief.  When I am feeling okay, I don't like that I am feeling okay, when I am deep in the dark, ugly parts of my grief, I feel scared and overwhelmed and want to feel "okay" again.  I feel like my grief is this scary boogy man that is constantly chasing after me and I am afraid to face it.  Although I do try and accept my grief and I do my best to just feel whatever emotion I am feeling at the time, it has been really hard not to judge it.  If I am feeling okay does that mean I am "getting over my son's death," am I a bad mom?  When I am feeling terrible and can't stop crying does that mean I am not coping well?  Am I throwing myself a pity party?  I just feel so unsettled all of the time.  Uncomfortable in my own body, in my head.  Nothing feels right, nothing feels good.

However, overall, my moments of feeling "okay" are lasting longer then they were before.  My intense anger (at myself, at my doctor, at those people in my life who disappeared after we lost Silas) has subsided and now most of my days I am left just feeling depressed.  I feel like I may never feel joyful again.  I may never honestly laugh, care-freely, joyfully.  I think I have gotten better at pretending to be "okay" for others though.  I can get through days without crying.  I can smile, I can do the small talk, but inside I feel empty.  I feel like a fake.  People see me and think I am still Shaina, but I don't feel like that girl anymore.  I look in the mirror and don't recognize myself.  I am trying to learn who this new me is.  I know I am different, I know I will never be the same person I was before Silas died, but I don't know this person that I am now.  And that scares me.

As time goes on and I get further away from the day I held my son in my arms, I find that I am desperately grasping at anything that makes me feel close to him.  I so desperately want others to acknowledge my son too, in tangible ways.  I love when people say my sons name, but I want something to look at, to hold that reminds me of my son.  That let's me know that others still think of him and that he meant something to others too, not just me.  For example, a friend gave us a beautiful painting on canvas that had Silas' name on it and that meant the world to me.  It meant the world that she cared enough to do something so meaningful and special to honor our son.  And, I get to hang it in my room and it will forever remind me of him because it is for him.  To me this gift says, "your son is real, he is important, and we miss him and love him too, and we will never forget him and never forget that he is always right there with you in your heart and in your thoughts."  Does that make sense?  It's very weird though because as I want people to recognize him and honor him, I also want him all to myself.  I am trying to organize a memorial service for him because I so want to honor him in that way and I also want to create a space where everyone who loves him and has been impacted by his death can come together and share in their grief, united.  But, at the same time it feels very scary to be vulnerable and share my grief and my baby with everyone else.  The memorial service notice is done, but I am too afraid to send it out.

So, like I said I feel very confused by my grief.  I have very conflicting emotions and conflicting thoughts.  As soon as I think I get a grasp on them they change and I feel like I start the whole process over again.  I want to feel okay, but also want to feel raw, intense sadness.  I want my son to be recognized, but I also feel protective of him and his memory.

And, I am trying to put the broken and shattered pieces of the person I once was back together again to try and figure out who this new person is.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Where are my tears?

I think EMDR might have worked too effectively.  I think I have lost my tears.  Or more accurately, I have lost the intensity and rawness of my emotions.  I feel like I now walk through life with a dullness, just a low-level depression.  And, often feel the tears there ready to surface, but they do not come.  I don’t want to lose my tears.  I have lost too much already.  It got me to thinking about how much one really loses when they lose a child.  I have not only lost my son, but I have lost his whole future, our whole future.  I have lost birthdays, first teeth, beach days playing in the sand, teaching him how to ride a bike, his 1st love, that call in the middle of the night, “mom I’m drunk can you pick me up,” I have lost family dinners, meeting the girlfriends, watching him graduate high school, college, marriage.  I have lost my hopes and dreams of what his life would be, what our life would be as mother and child.  But, I did not only lose him and his life, but also my own.  I have lost me, who I am, who I was.  I am not the same person I was before I lost Silas.  I have lost my joy, my laugh (although I do laugh, but it is a hollow, empty laugh, void of real joy), I have lost my love for dancing, for roller skating.  I am no longer carefree enough to dance, to skate.  I have lost my zest for life.  I have lost my innocence (although I never felt very innocent).  Many BLM’s talk about finding our “new normal,” who we become after our loss.  I am just starting to figure out some of what my “new normal” is, who I am becoming, and I don’t really like it.
And, here I am being selfish again.  My therapist told me to not be so self-focused, that the focus should be on Silas.  And it is, but how can I not also focus on me?  He was my son, that I lost, and my world is forever changed because of it.  There is a creative prompt on stilllife365 that talks about how self-focused we are when grieving and her prompt was to describe grief through art without using the words “I” or “me.”  I have been brainstorming how to do this because I think it is a good exercise, but today is about me. ME, ME, ME! 
I feel like I have lost almost everything important to me and I can’t even cry about it because I lost my tears too. 

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

fooling myself

Yep, I was fooling myself like I stated in my previous post.  I don't know why when I get these days of feeling okay that I think I am "over the hump" or something of that effect.  I always seem to be surprised when my grief hits me like a ton of rocks again.  Almost immediately after I wrote that post yesterday about feeling okay did I start to have a terrible day and missed my baby sooo much.  I don't know if I will ever get used to this rollercoaster.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011


My days seem to be getting easier.  Although I could be fooling myself, as I tend to do each time I have a spell of feeling okay and thinking I am passed the intense sorrow only to be bulldozed over by grief again a few days later.  But, last week I had a session of EMDR therapy to try and rid myself of the self-loathing I had acquired since Silas's death and I have been wearing like a heavy cloak.  It has been almost a week and I feel like I have peeled off a good portion of that cloak.  However, like I just said, I am holding my breath thinking that I have only had a moment of reprieve and all those feelings will soon come crashing back.  But, as of yet, it has lasted, these feelings of believing I am a good person and a good mother.  That was my mantra in the session.  Since, the session I haven't really cried either, well not during the days.  I still think of Silas almost every minute of my day, but without the gut wrenching agony, just a sad longing to have my boy with me.  Now, at nights I lay myself in bed and I gently cry myself to sleep.  Since the day I came home from the hospital I have slept with the baby blanket I made him and his little beanie he wore stays inside my pillowcase.  It gives me a sense of closeness to him.  Last night, it wasn't enough.  Sometimes the yearning to hold him in my arms is so great it hurts.  Last night, I cuddled his picture and fell asleep with him in my arms and tears streaming down my face.  I have noticed in the last several weeks my tears have been gentler.  I haven't really cried uncontrollably, but tears just fall from my eyes.  At times, I haven't realized I was even crying until I felt the tears on my cheeks.  I think I might be stopping myself from crying like that though.  Actually, I know I am, I usually breathe through it so it doesn't get too intense.  I get afraid of letting myself feel it so intensely.  Afraid that if I let myself really cry, I might never stop.  It's a fear of losing control, I guess.  So, at night, when I finally have let go of all distractions and I lay my head on my pillow and look at his picture on my nightstand, I gently cry myself to sleep.

What do you do to feel close to your child?  How has your grief changed over time?

Sunday, May 8, 2011

A letter to my son

My dear sweet Silas,

It is mother's day today and I thank you, for you are my gift.  Although this is the hardest time of my life, I am so thankful and grateful for the 9 1/2 months you were with me.  I cherished every moment we spent together, each kick, tumble and hiccup.  You have changed my life my precious little man.  I intend to spend everyday trying to make you proud.

I anticipated that today would be hard, but your mommy has so many people who love her and who love you too and they made sure that I was taken care of today.  I received so much love today and it is more then I could have ever anticipated.  You took care of me too.  I saw the moon this afternoon.  I don't know why, but I look to the moon to be close to you.  I have searched for two weeks now for the moon and it has not been out.  Today, the crescent moon was out.  I choose to believe that again it was you saying "happy mother's day. I love you today and always."

I love you my sweet boy, your mommy

Mother's Day

What a cruel reminder of what my life should be right now and what it actually is.  Not like I need a reminder.  It is all too obvious and soul-crushing every day, so thank you hallmark for slapping me in the face with it again.  Don't worry I won't forget.  I didn't know how I was going to feel today, I had been anticipating it all week wondering how I would feel, who would reach out, and what I was going to do.  Well, I feel terrible.  I didn't sleep last night and now I can't seem to get off of the couch or think about anything else except that my son is dead.  Today, Silas would have been 2 months old.  But, he's not.  He's gone.  And I am here, still alive, without him.

I can see all the other mother's waking up to sweet little cards from their children, having a picnic, maybe celebrating with family.  And, then maybe they would take some time to their selves because they have been so overwhelmed with the demands of being a mother.  My story is different.  I am a different kind of mother.  I am not exhausted from the sleepless nights of my crying baby, I am exhausted from my own sleepless nights of desperately missing my baby.  I do not need to take a spa day to get some much needed "me" time, I have too much me time already.  I think of all the other BLM (Babylostmoms) and I cry for them, knowing there day will be similar to mine.  You never realize this until you are in it or know someone in it, how painful a day like today can be.  I have a new appreciation for International BabyLost Mother's Day.  I think I fit there better than I fit here on this day.

There is a facebook quote about what it means to be a mom, it talks about being up all night, bathing your baby, having your baby fall asleep on your chest, etc etc.  That is not who I am.  Like another fellow blm wrote, I am a mother in how I keep my son's memory alive.  I've been thinking more about how to do this lately.  I am inspired by how so many other blm's start projects to support other women who have experienced this loss.  I am going to try and do something like this too.  I am playing around with the ideas of making blankets for the hospital or volunteering with Faces of Loss as an editor, I'm just not sure yet.  I do know that I am excited to walk for March of Dimes next Saturday.  I know now that I will do this every year as a way to remember Silas and to support healthy babies.  I am excited to build a team of family and friends who also want to remember Silas with us and walk with us.  It feels so important to me to do this in his name, to honor my son, this way.  I want him to be proud of who his mommy is.  Him and my husband are the only reason why I have not self-destructed, even when I have wanted to so bad.  But, I want to show my son how strong his mommy is and how I can do something positive, just like he did when he saved other babies lives by donating his heart.  I too want to give back to this community that I have just become a part of.  I can't comfort and nurture my little one, but maybe I can bring comfort and nurturance to other mothers who need it in their time of grief.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Some Art

I felt somewhat inspired today since it was International Babylost Mother's Day.  I finished my painting and sketched the beginning of my tattoo idea.  I really wanted to get a tattoo today or start a memorial tattoo for Silas, but Nate wasn't up for it and I didn't want to go by myself so I drew something up.  Daffodils are his birth month flower.

Friday, April 29, 2011

A Poem by Stephanie Paige Cole from her book, "Still."

I thought I would share this poem (it's safer than sharing my own) by Stephanie as it reflects how I feel to the deepest part of my core.  I could name it Tuesday, and it would be mine, the circumstances are different, but the feelings are so the same.  Especially this week which has proven to be one of the hardest weeks I have had so far, besides those first few weeks when i couldn't lift myself from the couch and my eyes were literally almost swollen shut from my not stop crying.  Okay, here it is, brace yourself (those who have lost your babies), I could barely even read this the first time through because I was crying so hard and I know it will be just as hard to type it here and have to read it again.

Thursday by Stephanie Paige Cole
Why are they worried?
What's going on?
Kind of excited
I love ultrasounds
Is something wrong?
Their faces are frozen
Worried, just a little
"I'm so sorry…"
She's dead
It washes over me
Drags me under
She's dead
She's dead
Do it again
They turn the monitor
I look
But I can't see
I'm gone
So is she
Nothing makes sense
"Wait here"
"Richy's coming"
"Here is a gown"
I stay in my clothes
He's here
He's crying
Now I can cry
Maybe I'll kill myself
I wish I knew how
Complete disbelief
What are they asking of me?
I have to labor?
She needs to come out?
This is all wrong
I want to go home
I want to die
Please make it stop
Why won't it stop?
Utter disbelief
I detach from my body
They do things to that girl
I guess that she's me
IV, Pitocin, catheter
I don't care
Water breaks
Muscles contract
I don't feel them
Are they even mine?
Baby is coming
One last push
I won't
You'll take her from me
Keep her inside
She's safe with her mommy
No choice
No control
My body betrays me
She's out
She is dead
They say "it's was a girl"
Has she stopped being one?
She is a girl
I know
She's my daughter
I hold her
I love her
They take her away
I fall
Days pass
Shock lifts
Disbelief stays
Pain comes
Piles of it
More every day
It crushes me
Darker than darkness
Engulfs me
I stare for hours
The lights stay off
There's nothing to see
I ache
I long
I die every morning
I cry myself to sleep
I wake up
I die again
I hurt and hurt and hurt
It doesn't stop
Time does not heal
This will not heal
I will just learn to breathe through the pain
But I don't want to breathe
I don't want to heal
I just want to wake up on Thursday
And start over again

Thursday, April 28, 2011

A better day

I am committed to having a better day today than I did yesterday and the day before.  Tuesday and yesterday almost did me in.  I attempted to go to work yesterday and lasted about a half an hour.  I went home and luckily Nate was home and he just snuggled up next to me and held my while I cried in bed.  It is weird how I have such a hard time on the days that I feel okay because I don't like to feel okay, but when I am low it is frightening how low I can get.  So, yesterday I did everything in my power to get out of that really low place.  I was cradled by my hubby, I went and whacked to pole he made me in the backyard with my martial arts stick (we created an anger release station in the backyard), I took a bath, I went for a run, I painted for the first time in years.  It was the most self-care I have done in a long time all in one day.  And, it worked to get me out of that desperately low place I was in.  I think it was the run.  I am going to try hard to make that a routine.  Before the run, I was pacing around my house, I just wasnt feeling comfortable even in my own skin.  Part of me wanted to lay down and hibernate, but there was too much emotional energy coursing through me so I would walk around the house and look for things to do, but had no motivation to do any of it.  The run allowed me to release some of that energy so that I could just settle a little.  I enjoyed painting too.  I am always hesitant to do it because I am such an amatuer (really, it looks like a 5 year olds paintings) and get too self-critical, but I am going to try and let that go.  It felt good to express some of my feelings and pain through art.  Maybe I will post some of the artwork an poems if I feel confident enought to do so.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

May 8th...

is Mother's Day and the 2 month mark of Silas's passing.  I am freaking out.  I thought today was bad, I am now dreading that day.  The month milestones are so hard and to top it off with Mother's Day….I can't deal.  As sad and isolative as I anticipate to be, I really hope both Silas and I are recognized by those close to us on that day.  Actually now that I think of it, I don't really care about myself, I just want my son to be recognized.  Here's hoping.

I hate Tuesdays

It felt like my heart was ripped out all over again today, if that is possible.  I had my 6-week follow-up appointment with my OB today (exactly 7 weeks to the day that I delivered my Son stillborn) and had a full on panic attack sitting alone in the room waiting for him to come in.  I seriously considered running out, fuck it, I don't need to get answers, I dont need to make sure I'm healing, I don't even need to put my fucking clothes back on, just get me the fuck out of this room where I sat for 9 1/2 months and heard my son's heartbeat and chitchatted about the silly little pregnancy concerns I had.  Now, I sat in the room, with no baby in tow for my OB to admire, just my heart wrenching despair and uncontrollable sobs.  The office was eerily quiet, I was literally the only one there, I was expecting to be swarmed by pregnant women and have to deal with that, but I was the only one.  It's like they cleared out the office for me, or maybe for the sake of the other women.  Don't let them see this broken, lifeless woman the horrible reminder that their babies aren't safe.  I am the dead baby plague.

I got answers though and will have to update Silas's story.  I am not sure how to process the information that I received today.  I can't really even start the absorb it.  It's an answer, but is that good or bad.  My doctor told me that Silas had a heart beat the peaked back up to a healthy range between my contractions up until the last five minutes.  In that last five minutes he was crowning and too far into the birth canal to really monitor.  However, from reviewing the heart monitor report with his colleagues the only answer they can come up with for what happened is that maybe that strong heartbeat they saw in those last moments was actually mine and not Silas's.  He said they can't be sure, but that's the only possible reason.  His autopsy report showed that he was a perfectly healthy baby, heart, lungs, brain all perfect.  I had a perfect son and I suffocated him inside me.  Dammit!  Why?  In just five minutes….Who ever thought a five minute time span could destroy your life.  I carried him for 9 1/2 months and in the last five fucking minutes before I would hold my precious baby in my arms and hear his cries and see his perfect beautiful eyes (that I think were a beautiful blue like his mommas) he died.  THE LAST FIVE FUCKING MINUTES!!!!  Really, did that really happen to me?  In five minutes my whole life, dreams, hopes were crushed.  What kind of cruel trick is that?  What does it mean?  It is sooo sooo hard not to go to such a dark, self blaming, self hating place.  And, honestly, I sit there a lot these days.  I am so angry!!!

Okay, I am clearly starting to process this as I write.  I am angry, so fucking angry.  What sort of God, universe would do this?  How can I be given something so precious, something I love so intensely, so deeply with all of my being just to have him taken away? How do you live once he is taken away?  I don't want to be here without my baby!  He was my life, my everything and he was stolen from me.  Whoa, okay…I think I have to end this for now.  This is too hard.

Monday, April 25, 2011


My therapist said today, "It sounds like you hold a lot of guilt about things" (this was our second session), what an understatement!!!  I think I feel guilty about almost all my thoughts and feelings, okay maybe that is an overstatement, but you get the idea.  Some of the context about where this statement came from I am not going to divulge on here, but a lot of it had to do with my grief process and how to identify myself without my baby boy by my side.  Specifically, today a woman said to me, "it's so nice to see you happy again" or something along those lines and I instantly felt guilty.  I shouldn't look happy it has only been a month and a half since I lost my son.  I feel like I need to time warp back to the early 1900's and wear black garb for a year with a veil over my face.  At least that is how I feel in the inside, even if I have a smile on my face and casually shoot the shit.  Silas is never not right there in the forefront of my thoughts.  So don't be fooled.  What you see is only an empty shell of the person I once was.  I feel guilty when I fool you, but like I said earlier I need to embrace those short moments of reprieve.

Oh, but that guilt is strong.  What kind of mother can feel moments of happiness?  Are they truly happy moments anyways, I think not?  Am I really a mother though?  What makes a mother?  Today I referred to myself as a mother and felt weird like this person I was talking to was going to look at me weird or perplexed?  Where is my baby to prove that I am mother?  If I am a mother, what kind am I being that I can't even keep my baby safe?  And, please don't comment about how great of a mother I am, I am not fishing for compliments and nothing you could say will alleviate the deep seeded guilt about not being able to bring my baby home and doubts about what that means for me as a mother.  I think I will always feel guilty and ashamed about this.  Trust me I wish it was different, but this is my reality now, as shitty as that may be.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Embracing the quiet moments..

...during those short, few and far between times when I am not heavy with sorrow.  It may be minutes, hours, or the majority of a day that I feel "okay" and I have realized how important it is to really accept those moments in order to build enough strength to weather through the storm that I know is just around the corner.  It is hard never knowing when my grief is going to hit and how strong it will be in that moment.  Sometimes, I may shed just a tear or two and other times I am knocked over by depths and the rapidness of my pain.  I was mistaken when I thought that with time this pain would become lighter.  It sometimes seems the exact opposite.  It's like the veil has been lifted and I cannot hide from this reality that has become my life.

I have never been much of a daydreamer and in the first month this helped save me as I didn't try and picture what I would be doing at any given moment if I had Silas with me, as was the plan.  Now, I can't seem to stop thinking about it.  I am constantly thinking about and daydreaming about what my life "should" look like right now.  I was at a museum the other day and kept thinking my baby boy should be in a carrier right now strapped to my chest.  At the beach, I cried thinking about how Silas should be in my arms watching his daddy surf with me.  I imagine being able to caress his little chubby cheeks, kiss his forehead, play with him on the carpet and tickle his belly, show him off to everyone I see.  And, I don't just imagine the good, I would be so happy to have to be up all night trying to soothe his cries, change his gross, messy poopy diapers, to be exhausted from all that it takes to be a mom.  But, no I sit in an empty quiet house.  I walk around like a zombie, absentmindedly going through the motions of my life with no care or desire to do so.  This life is nothing without my baby.  And, it is overwhelming difficult to be me right now with such pain, loneliness, and emptiness.

So, in those short moments when I feel "okay", I take a breath and prepare myself

Friday, April 22, 2011

I don't want to hear "it will getter better"

I am not ready to even contemplate that right now.  I don't want to get further away from the time I had Silas.  Right now, I wish I could turn back time and freeze it in the moment I held my precious son in my arms.  He never took a breath, but he was perfect.  I can still feel the weight of him in my arms, picture his beautiful face.  If I only could go back to that, spend more time caressing his sweet cheeks and kiss his forehead.  I don't want to move forward and further away from that moment.  I am afraid the further away I get the the foggier that memory will become.  If I don't remember who will?  

Thursday, April 21, 2011

The moon

Several nights ago I went into my backyard for the first time in a very long time to look at the stars.  It was surprisingly warm for an early spring night.  The sky was cloudy, but you could see stars peeking through and the full moon was bright.  As I stared at the moon it became brighter and brighter, glowing through the cloudy night.  I felt an instant sense of ease, as if Silas was illuminating the moon for me telling me he was okay and that he loved me.  This morning the moon was bright again, not ready to depart and make room for the sun.  Again, I felt like it was Silas’s way of saying hello, “Good morning mommy, I love you.  You’re going to be okay.”  I feel okay today, I haven’t felt that for some time now.  How I miss my precious boy!