Not funny "haha" but funny strange

It's funny how life goes on and days go by and you don't cross my mind. I mean, you're there, always ready to leap to life in a story, but not in the forefront. It's easy to push it back because I didn't see you every day.

Then some days, you're a whisper. You're a song on the radio, a scent in the breeze, a daydream at a familiar place.

Then... then, there are days like today, when you should be there. When all of the family is there. You should be laughing, singing and making us dance. You should be telling your stories and looking impatient not letting anyone know you're having fun. You should be cooking and smiling and hugging your son. And it hits me like a ton of bricks, you're gone.

I can see you in photos, and recall fading memories of moments that have passed but nothing is sufficient. I want another day. A day at the springs, in the mountains, at your dinning room table waiting for dinner. A day to mend fences, a day to aggravate you, a day to laugh at your bad jokes.

Life isn't fair, and death certainly isn't either.

to the moon and back,

My miscarriage...

If you follow my blog because of my wit and satire... this post is not for you, as if you couldn't tell by the title. I just wanted to give fair warning that this will be sad, at least if you have a heart it will.

Before I get too far into it, I would at least like to give a few reasons for broadcasting this to the the 5's of people who read this blog. Well, first off, I have said before that I use this blog as a form of therapy for myself. Secondly, I found out the hard way that that keeping stuff locked up is no way to get over it. Finally, this is a subject that not a lot of people want to talk about, so if I can help someone else who can't talk about it feel a little less alone, then it's worth it.

It is a long one...

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On January 25th, before I was even late, I took a pregnancy test. We had been trying so I knew I was within a day or so. Drumroll... A plus sign... What? Pregnant? I have to say I was shocked. We really had only been trying for a month. Man, that was quick, I thought I'd have a few months at least. A flood of emotions overwhelmed me and I walked out to show Jon, he got the biggest smile on his face and I broke down and started crying... Not because I was sad, just emotionally overwhelmed.

The next week we went on a trip to TN to visit friends. We had a great time (other than I was recovering from the flu). However, I did have this nagging uneasy feeling. I told Jon and my friend, Sarah, about it. I really couldn't put a finger on it though. It sorta felt like that feeling when your boss says "We need to talk" or when you get called to the principal's office. I was just feeling off, but I sort of contributed that to the changing hormones.

Over the next few weeks, I still had the feeling but it kept lessening. However, now I was just nervous in general, even more so than with my first pregnancy. Again, I just blamed it on hormones well that and the fact that in my close circle of friends, 4 of them had issues following their 1st pregnancy or issues with their 2nd. Including blood clots, Gastroschisis, miscarriage, and Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia.

I had my first appointment with the midwife and everything seemed to be going well. I felt good, other than the normal pregnancy symptoms; being nauseous, dry mouth, sore boobs, minor headaches and mood swings. She checked me and everything seemed to be right where it needed to be. She scheduled me for my bloodwork and my first sonogram.

I kept up with my eating healthy (as much as the cravings and nausea would allow), I did pre-natal yoga, I took my pre-natal vitamins, I walked, I didn't have caffeine, I didn't drink, I stayed away from artificial sweetners... all of the stuff you are supposed to do.

The day of my sonogram came (which happened to be the day before I had to fly to NY for a company trip). Jon met me at the doctor's office and we waited to be called back. We made small talk with the woman doing our sonogram (she was the same one who did them for us when we had Moose). I laid on the table, adjusted my pants and she applied whatever that gooey stuff is to my stomach. She placed the wand on my stomach and as soon as she did, I knew that there was something wrong.

With Moose, we had a sonogram at 5wks 6dys and we saw him. Even though he was tiny, we saw him. I was 9wks 3dys, We should be seeing something. I kept thinking, "Maybe this is just a really wide view, maybe she has to zoom in." Suddenly, I kept thinking, "that has to be it, right? Didn't they have to do that in the beginning with Moose?"

She said, "I'm going to measure the sac now," *mouse click* *mouse click*. "but I'm sorry to tell you that there is no baby there and I honestly can't say that there ever has been. I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry" And just like that, I wasn't pregnant anymore... Only I was, or at least my body still thought so.

Instant tears, Jon reached for my hand, stood up and held me. Endless tears...

9 & 1/2 weeks... We had known since weeks, we had already started planning, I bought diapers to start stocking up, we had talked about names... How is it that there is no baby? What had I done wrong?? Then instantly I thought, "Oh God, we have to tell everyone that there is no baby... Why didn't we wait to tell until after 12 weeks?" 

Even worse... how was I going to tell Moose that he was no longer going to have a baby brother or sister?

She said that she had to call the doctor to come talk to me about my options. They walked me into another room and the doctor came in. He said that it's called "blighted ovum" (never heard of it? me either read about it here and here) Bottom line is that there was no baby, no fetus and no fetal pole. Apparently, it's very common, I don't know about you, but that's not very comforting. Option one: I could let my body take care of it on it's own or option two: I could have a D&C. A miscarriage is less controlled, could result in hemmorhaging, infection and you never know when it's going to happen. A D&C is more controlled, quick, sterile and fewer chances of complications.

Hmmm... decisions, decisions... And the doctor is standing there looking at me. I'm crying and Jon's fighting back tears. The doctor says that we don't have to make a decision now, unless we want to, but to me the D&C seemed like the right choice (if you feel differently, that's fine, please do judge or question my decision, it was not one that was easily made). Within a matter of minutes the procedure was scheduled for the next Thursday (March14th) and I had to do blood work for a type & screen on Wednesday because I am RH negative.

In one short hour, I had gone from expectant mother, to a woman who was scheduled to remove the "products of conception".

When I picked up Moose from my moms, I told him about it, I had to, he kept asking why mommy was crying and was so sad. So I told him that the baby in mommy's belly went away. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said "But mommy, I want my baby brother or baby sister." Just the week before he was talking about all of the things he could teach him/her like how to play, and not potty in their diaper and how to sleep and not cry, and how he could make them laugh by making faces at them because that always makes babies laugh. He started crying and said "Mommy, I am so sorry that the baby in your belly went away."

Don't forget, I still had to go home and pack for my trip. The next 4 days I would be away from my family and would have no time to really process because I would be working a tradeshow for 9 hours and day and I was rooming with a co-worker so I wouldn't have time to myself.

In the times I did get to think about it, my mind immediately started blaming it on something I had done:
   Did I not want it enough?
   Should I not have taken the Tami-flu?
   Did I work out too much?
   Did I not start taking my pre-natals early enough?
   Is the D&C the right choice?
   Could I have done something differently?
   Is it ridiculous that I am mourning a baby that was never there?
   Why do I feel embarrassed telling people that there never was a baby?

Sometimes I hate how a mind works... Sometimes no one is to blame. Sometimes things just happen. God knows that there was a reason for this, and whether I understand it or not, I except it and honestly, I'm with Jon in thinking that I am glad it happened sooner rather than later.

Wednesday came and I had my blood work. I hate needles and Moose knows that, he said "I'll hold your hand so you don't get nervous mommy. I don't want my mommy to be nervous." And when I started crying because there was a possible problem with insurance, while squeezing my neck, he said "Oh, it's ok mommy, I am here for you, I'll always be here for you. Don't cry, it's ok".

Thursday, day of surgery... Up at 5:20am to be there by 6:00am, surgery at 7:30am, no longer pregnant by 7:45am. They brought me back for pre-op and got me ready. Then Jon came back to sit with me. Lots of tears and pulling it together and tears and pulling it together. 

Then, the inconsiderate nurses (not mine, mine were really great) in the hall right next to my bay start talking about how on Tuesday a woman with no known allergies went into anaphylactic shock after getting the versed shot. She coded and then needed CPR and almost didn't make it. Really?? I've never had surgery in my life and this is the convo you have outside my room and the rooms of others having procedures today? Jon stepped out and politely asked them to be a little more sympathetic to the patients about to get the same shot.

After that, they gave me the versed, and hauled me off to the OR. I really don't remember anything after that except sliding myself to the other bed. The next thing I remember was waking up, trying to figure out if I was done or what was going on. They brought Jon back and the relief in his eyes was beautiful.

And that was it... we were done and discharged.

I know that I'm not the only woman who has had this problem nor am I the only one who has miscarried but that brings little consolation. Everyone mourns differently, everyone needs their own outlet, everyone needs support, but more importantly everyone needs to move on. I'm not saying that they need to forget, I'm saying that they need to find a way to look back with love and not with anger or hatred or emptiness.

It wasn't my fault... It wasn't your fault... God knew better that us that the timing wasn't right, no matter how hard that is to see right now.

I'm so thankful that I have an amazingly supportive husband, son, family and friends. Though this process is and will continue to be difficult, they have made it so much easier on me.

I love you all...

...to the moon and back,

www.hypersmash.com

Of love and loss and grieving....

Ok, I stole that title from my bosses blog, but it's fitting.

I could start this blog off with "Wow, it's, like totally, been a really long time since I last blogged. I've been sooo super busy with my crazy important life but I totally promise to be better about posting!" (please feel free to read that in your best Valley Girl voice circa 1983), but I won't. Truth is, life happens and while I love writing, and emptying my head of random thoughts (yes, thoughts, plural, I do manage to have more than one, however, trains of thought quickly derail), I also have family, friends, 2.5 jobs, running and the like that fill my days.

I have had a blog brewing in my little brain about the "Are You Mom Enough" article, but my luke warm opinions about most things coupled with the fact that I haven't actually read past the title of the article, have hindered me from diving into that topic further. I am fairly certain, though, that I am not mom enough when you take into account that my almost 3 year old watches TV, has had his vaccinations as well as tylenol & motrin, was only breastfed (and not exclusively, there was formula in the mix) until 14 months, has had (on occasion) a PB&J for breakfast and navigates my iPhone better than me. But that's beside the point, on to the task at hand.

Tonight, I write of love, loss and grieving...

Love... The love of a gracious God, the love of a remarkable mother, the love of humbled friends. First, there is the love of gracious God who gives peace to a family who needs all of the comfort they can get. He has laid out the plans for them and gives them strength though the pain. Then there is the love of a mother, a love that has no rivals. I don't think you can truly understand it until you become one. I'm not taking away from the love a father has for his child, but I am saying that it is a bit different when you have carried, nurtured and felt the child moving from inside you. We give them our bodies for 9 months and in turn they take a piece of our heart with them on the way out. Finally, the love of humbled friends, who no matter how much they do for their friends, no matter how much they give, they are humbled to have the friend who is in need trying to comfort them through her loss.

Loss... One of my dearest friends and her family is having to go through what no one should ever have to experience, the loss of a child. Just a few days ago, after giving birth, she lost her son (you can read about it here). Throughout the pregnancy and birth, she gave her worries to God and above all asked for His will to be done. God's will was done, and part of His plan for Emmett was unveiled as he was able to be an organ donor and has the opportunity to help save the lives of two babies. 

Grieving... I can never claim to know what she is feeling, but I know that since Thursday night, I have been wandering around in a fog with an emptiness in my chest. My heart aches for them and I hate that we (her friends) can't be closer to help her through this and to keep her mind occupied. It's a very helpless feeling to have so much distance between us and to not be able to be with her.

It's amazing how someone so little can fill your heart so much and how you can be filled with so much love so someone that you never got to meet, hold, talk to or cuddle with.

My prayers continue to go out to the Jackson family, I hope you will do the same.

to the moon and back,

Too close for comfort...

Last night at 11:30pm, the phone rang. Generally, by nature, a phone call at that time is not good news and this one was no different. It was my mom. She had taken my dad to the ER because he had lost sight in one of his eyes. She said he felt fine and wasn't in any pain and that the doctors said it was a stroke of the eye. She said they were going to run some more tests before they sent him home. I heard him joking in the background "Tell her to get me an eye-patch for Christmas." I told mom to tell him that he isn't funny.

Long story short, he's doing good (we think, he has more tests on Thursday), but he will most likely never regain his vision in that eye. He said it's like looking through frosted glass with a few clear spots that never seem to be in the same place.

In the past few weeks, I have had a few friends that have lost their fathers, and this brought it very close to home for me. I can't begin to comprehend what they are going through, but last night as I laid in bed after hanging up with my mom, I was terrified that I might find out.

The doctor told my dad that if the piece of plaque from his vein had gone to his brain instead of his eye, he could have had a real stroke. There is still a possibility that he might need surgery, but I pray that he doesn't.

I don't think my dad will ever realize how much I love him and how grateful I am to have him and my mom for parents. I gave him a pretty hard time (attitude-wise) when I was a teenager, but he never held it against me and always loved me, even at my most unlovable moments. I tell him I love him, but the words just don't seem to convey it properly.

I can thank him for my fondness of movies and my eclectic taste in music. I can thank him for my love of all things food, he always made me try something new. I pretty sure my creative side (graphic design) came from him, too. Lord knows it wasn't my mom, if it doesn't involve Mahjong or solitaire, she couldn't care less about it.

I am so thankful that he is ok, I hate that his vision is impaired, but it could have been so much worse. I pray that everything goes well on Thursday. I pray that this was a fluke. I pray that I don't have to deal with losing a parent... ever... Can't they just live forever? I can't imagine life without my parents. I know that day will come, but I hope it's long after I am old and gray.

I love you daddy...