Saturday, March 22, 2008

A Sign of Hope?

Last night I dreamt I gave birth to a daughter, she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She had C's blue eyes and my brown hair. Odd thing though was I gave birth in a van, while it was moving, and she was born as a 2 year old.. like we had just skipped the entire unsure newborn part.. Maybe I was so afraid of seeing my baby born still born that my mind just skipped past that entire stage. I gave birth to her and I was just holding her there on my lap staring at her, waiting for her to cry.. but instead of crying she started making sounds, like she was learning to talk. It was beautiful. I looked at her and I knew I couldn't name her Cadence (the name I picked out for a girl). I knew right away that her name was Larissa.

It's very strange.. I'm hoping for and dreading another pregnancy. I'm terrified that if it happens again, that it might end the same way or worse.. and yet I want that beautiful baby I saw in my dream. Even if I have a boy, with brown eyes like me.. or whatever genetics decides will be my baby, that's the baby I want. As long as it's alive.

On an unrelatedish note I saw my dad the other night, he hadn't had any alcohol in 2 days.. that's a good start. I hope he can keep it up. If only my parents and my offspring can both survive long enough to meet each other.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Ordinary Miracle

As much as I love Sarah Mclachlan the timing couldn't have been worse last week, when C and I had just spent a good 30 minutes talking and crying about Sophie, when Ordinary Miracle came on the radio. I burst into tears all over again, and since then it's been her song. And it's hard to listen to it without tearing up.

It’s not that

everything is beautiful.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

The sky knows when its time to snow,

Don’t need to teach a seed to grow.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Life is like a gift they say

Wrapped up for you everyday;

Open up and find a way

To give some of your own.

Isn’t it remarkable?

Like every time a rain drop falls,

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Birds in winter have their fling

But always make it home by spring.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

When you wake up everyday

Please don’t throw your dreams away;

Hold them close to your heart

Cause we’re all a part

Of the ordinary miracle.

Ordinary miracle

Do you want to see a miracle?

It seems so exceptional

That things just work out after all.

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

Sun comes up and shines so bright

And disappears again at night.

It’s just another ordinary miracle

It’s just another ordinary miracle today.

I wish Sophie could have been my miracle baby. And even though this song is about everything she's not, it'll still always remind me of her and what could have been, and what maybe we'll have one day with another baby.

Monday, March 17, 2008


It's been harder than I thought it would be, trying to put everything into words, and I'm finding that despite being an avid reader, and a not so shabby writer, that finding the words is so impossible.

Some days I feel guilty because I sit and I cry and I think I should be pregnant right now, I should be rubbing my belly and singing to it, and eating all sorts of weird concoctions that only pregnant women can dream up. The single onesie in the closet sits there waiting for a baby that isn't coming. And I've felt ashamed and embarrassed, like my body somehow killed the baby, I worried my partner would think I was broken when I told him that I'd miscarried, that somehow I had managed to kill our baby. We named her Sophie. It wasn't the name I had picked out, hell it wasn't even a name I liked, but after she died, it just came into my head and that's what it was. Her name is Sophie.

We bought her flowers, after she died, tulips. The most beautiful brightly coloured magenta tulips. We put them in the bedroom right next to our bed, in front of the window. There was no point to putting them outside, it's too cold, they'd only die. And the last thing I need right now is for another dead thing to remind me of her. The whole reason I got them was because they're so brilliant and beautiful and full of life just like I imagine she would be if she was alive.

It's funny how I feel so inadequate, and this is totally f*d up I'll admit, but I feel like my loss wasn't as much as what other women have gone through.. like people who have had stillbirth babies. I couldn't imagine having to give birth to a baby that has fully formed little fingers and toes but isn't moving.. Although the alternative isn't much better let me tell you. Waking up in the middle of the night to the worst abdominal cramping I've ever felt, and racing to the bathroom only to bleed massive amounts of blood and tissue matter. The baby wasn't fully formed but it wasn't a pretty sight either. I almost wish she had been much bigger, so that they could have done an autopsy.. I want to know why she died. Did my body eat her? Did my red blood cells attack her like she was an intruder.. what happened, was she deformed or defective?

I try to tell myself (and my partner) that if she had made it to term she might have been sick, she might have died anyway, she might have been this, or she might have had that.. I keep trying to convince myself that it happened for a reason. But really that doesn't quite make everything better now does it?

The 17th

You know how some days have a certain significance, the 17th is one of those days for me. The 17th is the day I lost my baby. She hadn't even finished growing up yet, she wasn't even ready to leave the womb, but she did. Lately I've been reading a lot of blogs, deadbabyblog, please give me back my heart, alittlepregnant, I absolutely admire and respect these women, and it got me to thinking that if they can deal with it, and talk about it online and find solace in other women who've dealt with the same kind of thing then maybe I can too. And it's just one of those things you don't feel like sharing with everyone around you unless you absolutely have to.

My friends and family were oblivious, except for my mothers lovely comment about me gaining weight.. I wasn't very far along fortunately when I lost the baby, but it was still a loss nonetheless. As much as I want to talk to my "real life" friends about it I just can't. It's just one of those things. And as much as it hurts me to think about it or talk about it I just consider myself lucky that I lost the baby before everyone around me knew I was pregnant, because I don't think i could have dealt with telling them all, and having to put up with their reactions, and patronizing and asking me if I'm going to be alright..

It's been 2 months now since I lost her...