Familiar hallways

Monday, we found ourselves walking down all too familiar hallways.  The hallways of the old Sky Ridge birth center where we spent a lot of time with Preston.  Past those NICU doors that felt like a second home for a while.

Monday, I had my regularly scheduled, monthly OB appointment.  My blood pressure was slightly elevated, and not wanting to take any chances, I was taken to the hospital for some monitoring.  Monitoring of my blood pressure, and a nonstress test for the baby.  This test records movement, heartbeat and contractions.  I also went through a couple other tests like blood tests.

We sat there for a couple hours, maybe a few hours.  My blood pressure went down and the whole time my baby girl's vitals looked great.

It was quite the scare.  The possibility of pre-eclampsia again.  The thought of having Samantha arrive early.  It was rather overwhelming, and probably did not help my blood pressure.

As a precaution, and to give the baby the best chance to go full term, I've been placed on bed rest.  Not strict bed rest in the hospital, but for the most part, I'm refined to the couch/bed.  I can get up to make some lunch, take a shower, etc.  I'm however not allowed to work on any projects, such as cleaning the pantry, or getting the baby's room ready.  Good thing that's all done!


This is day 4 of my bed rest situation.  While I'm bored, I'm thankful for this chance to give my daughter her best chance at staying inside the womb for another 3 weeks.  I also keep reminding myself of all the signs my son has sent me in the past week, to try and reassure me that things will be alright.

The day before my birthday, just over a week ago, on my way home, I decided to listen to music out of the blue.  Iris came on.  A little while later, as the train stopped at the University station, I saw the weirdest rainbow - there was a sticker on a sign.  The sticker was of a odd looking man... wearing a rainbow hat.  As the train went on, not even a station or two later, there was a bunny hopping along a hill.

That was just one day.  There have been several more signs since then - the biggest one is how active Samantha has been during the nonstress tests (we had another one yesterday).  This keeps mama calm, and I'm thankful for Preston communicating that to his sister when I need that from her.

3 more weeks.  I pray that I don't need to walk down those halls again.  Should we have to though, I feel that everything will work out.  Still, I pray for 3 more weeks of pregnancy.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Normalizing Grief

After a loss as tremendous as losing a baby, normal is a word that goes out the window.  You are no longer normal.  Your reality is turned upside down.  You feel sequestered as you try to navigate the map that is grief.  Twists and turns when you least expect it.  Detours at every corner.

When we feel a certain way, we believe that it isn't normal.  For me, my first fears of not reacting normal were when I was still in shock and I couldn't cry.  My brain was telling me I should be a ball on the floor, unable to function, crying uncontrollably.  Except I was numb.  My body was protecting my heart.  I soon learned from reading about other experiences and talking to other bereaved parents that there was no right or wrong way to grieve.  Part of me wanted to feel what I would have considered normal (the ball on the floor) but grief had another path for me.

And while normal as we knew it might be completely out the window, with time, we learn to create a new normal.  Mine includes this blog and memorializing Preston.  Mine includes a lot more positivity than what existed before losing Preston.  Mine includes a whole new outlook on life, where the small things are appreciated to a new degree.

With today's subject, CarlyMarie requests that we share an experience that might make someone else say "Hey, I feel that way too!" (quote from CarlyMarie's page), therefore normalizing grief.  Our experiences are all different.  Our journeys all differ.  Our emotions diverse.  But at some point, hopefully we cross the path that someone else has traveled.  I will try to do that by sharing something new.

When my fears of miscarriage dissipated with my current pregnancy, some fears instilled themselves in me.  Fears that Preston would be forgotten.  Fears that others would think that now that I have another baby, I can "move on", whatever that means.  Fears that people might think that with Samantha's arrival, I won't have any more sad moments.  Fears that society expects me to finally stop grieving.  It's part of the reasons I kept this pregnancy under wraps for so long.

And I know better.  Preston will never be forgotten.  Not by me.  Not by his father.  Not by his family.  Not by his friends, our friends.  Not by those who have truly been touched by his smile, his story, his being.  #SpreadHappinessForPreston is here to stay. Every year.

Moving on is an interesting concept.  If I can be brutally honest, losing a baby is not something you "get over".  It's not something you get past.  It stays with you.  Every day.  Another human being will not change that, no matter how loved.  We aren't talking about buying a new laptop because you broke your previous one.  We're talking flesh and blood.  We're talking a little life that you helped create.  I won't move on, and honestly, I don't want to.

I've had many reasons to be happy this year.  And last year.  I have a lot to be grateful for.  I know it, because I made myself take a 30 day challenge (the first post of this series can be found here).  That doesn't mean that I don't miss my son.  That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.  My heart continues to bleed every day.  And while Samantha will help cauterize the scar Preston left on my heart, it will continue to bleed.  I will continue to miss him.  I will continue to fear losing her, the same way I lost him.  Innocence - gone forever.  Sadness will follow me like a shadow.  And I know that it's okay.  I know that I can and should let it in, when it needs to.

I will never stop grieving.  That's all there is to it.

Yet, all that being said... those fears I mentioned before, they are still there.  And I know some people will have those expectations of me.  Of my husband.  People will always judge.  Let them.

Rise above, and know that you are not alone.  Grief has no timeline.  Certain events or moments, don't make it go away.  Your grief, can be what you want it to be, what you need it to be. Don't let others dictate it, or how they think it should be.

Walking a fine line

This weekend, I was asked how my blog was going.  I was honest, and said, not great.  It's not that I don't have anything to talk about, it's just that I feel like I'm walking a fine line between talking about Preston and loss, and his new sibling to be.

This blog is about my son, about living through loss, about sharing my experiences, sharing my son, and hopefully helping someone.  I don't want this to become a blog just about my pregnancy and about this new baby.

But at the same time, there are so few resources for someone in my shoes.  I haven't connected with anyone else who lost their firstborn to SIDS.  And while I have connected with a few people who have had a child after loss, they are very few and far between.  I haven't encountered anyone though that had a child after SIDS.

So perhaps, I'm in a prime position to offer some insight into what I feel, what others in my shoes are feeling.  And at the same time, I don't want to be off-putting to any of my readers who might have just experienced a loss, for readers where the loss is still too fresh and where pregnancy is a trigger beyond any other.  

And so, that's where my mind has been lately.  Struggling between the loss and the pregnancy.  Finding the perfect mix, that will help others, without alienating anyone.

Perhaps there is no perfect formula.  All I can do, is share what I'm feeling, what I've lived, and how I survive and hope that it is enough to help others.  All I can do, is continue to try and make Preston proud, continue to share him with the world, and pray that he continues to make a difference.

White gloves versus boxing gloves

Dear pregnant friend, pregnant relative, pregnant stranger, mama of a newborn,

I hope you know that I am happy for you.  Thrilled even.  I don't throw out the "happy" word easily, and I am truly happy for each an every person I find out is expecting a child.  What a blessing!  What a privilege and honor it is to become a parent!  It's not something everyone gets to have.  I can easily be taken for granted as it's not everyone who gets to have children, no matter how much they want them.  And there's of course the direct opposite, those who get to have children when it seems inconceivable that they should have that right.  So many horror stories I've read and heard...

Sorry to turn to the dark side there for a moment.  Not what you need, I know.  The point is, I am happy for you, even if I don't tell you often, or at all.  I'm excited for the months and years to come, the dreams you are building and the memories you are already making.  The story that is the child you are expecting, or the child you just had, is one of hope.  Hope is something I need a whole lot of and it doesn't come easily to me.

I pray that you forgive me for not being more involved in your pregnancy, if only by asking how you are doing.  Please do know that I care, but it's a sensitive topic for me.  Some days, I feel strong and put on my boxing gloves.  When I do, I am able to ask you how you and baby are doing.  I'm able to invest myself into buying things for your little one, even though the baby aisle is still extremely problematic for me.  And then there are other days where I have to wear white gloves and approach everything with caution.  Those days are emotionally draining.  Is it that I'm jealous? I don't think it's the right word.  I think it's more that I long for my son.  It's that I miss him.  I don't necessarily want what you have.  I want what I had, what I can have no longer.

Pregnancy and newborns are definitely subjects that are difficult for me to broach.  I'm sure it's a sensitive topic for anyone who's lost a child, and sometimes even for those close to someone who has lost a baby.  As with all things, this varies from person to person.  It's dependent on your situation.  It can be intensified after a loss in pregnancy or around certain dates.  It can be particularly painful to think about in the months following a loss when grief is often at it's highest point.

Then again, this is just my perspective.  I don't walk in the shoes of every grieving parent but I do continue to grieve the loss of Preston on a daily basis.  It's something that I will live with every. day. of. my. life.  I'm 13 months out from having lost my son.  He should be 18 months old, yet he will live on forever in my heart as a 16 week old baby.  Where I am at, today, is not the same place another parent might be at.  It's also possible that where I am at today, is not where I will be tomorrow.

How do you broach the subject of pregnancy with someone who's lost a baby?  I wish I had a black and white answer, but I think it's a very grey area.  It'll be dependent on what gloves your friend is wearing that day - the boxing gloves or the white gloves.  I think knowing who you are talking to, how they are dealing with their loss, where they are at with their grief, will allow you to figure out which gloves they are wearing.  Perhaps, it is even you who needs to decide which gloves you will use to bring up the topic.

Some people may think that every time they bring up Preston, or their child, or pregnancy, it's a reminder of my loss.  At the risk of repeating what I've said before, there's nothing really that can "remind" me of my loss.  It's with me every day, everywhere I go.  Do certain things trigger specific memories? For sure, but that trigger can just be the ding of the microwave or the smell of fresh snowfall.  A certain light being turned on, or the formula that still sits in the pantry.  And while for sure pregnancy and newborns can be a BIG trigger for bereaved parents, it doesn't mean the subject shouldn't be brought up or alternatively, be the only thing you talk about.

Personally, pregnancy has been all around me since the loss of Preston.  Some of my relatives are pregnant, as are friends and co-workers.  I didn't feel "hurt" when I found out about these pregnancies.  Was it difficult to hear? Quite honestly, yes but no.  It was difficult because it made me miss my son a little bit more for a short while.  It wasn't difficult because it was a ray of hope into my day.  It would be so easy to try and hide from the world as it continues to turn, especially on days where it feels that time is standing still.  What good would it do me?  Try as I may, pregnancy would be in my face at some point or another.  A diaper commercial here.  A flyer from ToysRUs.  A mother pushing a stroller past my house.  There's no escaping it, so when I can, I wear my boxing gloves.

All this being said though, yes I still struggle talking about pregnancy and newborns.  I can't do it 24/7.  Sometimes after 10 minutes, that's about all I can take.  Other days, I can survive 45 minutes of talk.  Those days make me happy, because I really want to be there for you, but I'm still figuring things out.  My heart is still mending, and it is a slow process.  As I write about this sensitive topic today, I am wearing my boxing gloves.

I hope that with every day that follows, I adorn the white gloves less and less.  I want to thank you for the days where I am wearing these gloves.  Thank you for your patience with me and my heart.  Thank you for your understanding.  Know that you are often on my mind, even if I don't tell you enough <3

Your friend,
~Cat

***
On a totally side note, for those who were curious, thanks to Jamie and my aunt Jocelyn, we were able to figure out that those weird spotted plants in our front garden are "Calypso Tulips" or if you want to be technical - Tulipa Gerigii 'Calypso' .  Thanks ladies

And on another side note, we got a beautiful snow storm on Thursday night into Friday morning.  We got a good foot of snow.

Positively February: Day 12

"Life isn't a matter of milestones, but of moments" - Rose Kennedy

My husband has told me several times that I should try not to make a milestone out of everything.  His words are wise, yet I struggle not to do so.  I've hit the one year mark from when I returned to work from my maternity leave, and I'm a month away from landing on the one year that marks the last time I saw my little boy wiggle around.  It's difficult not to see these dates come, or acknowledge what is or what should be.

However, today, I'm reminded that I should continue to strive to not make milestones out of every day, out of every missed "firsts".  I had a particularly difficult afternoon.  I had a dentist appointment with a specialist, and the receptionist commented on my necklace: "That's a beautiful necklace!  Is it for your children?".  Me: "Yes, it was given to me by my aunt, uncle and cousins after my son passed away last year".  Receptionist: "Well it's absolutely beautiful".  I couldn't look her in the eye.  I felt like I'd made her uncomfortable even when it wasn't my intention.  Perhaps I didn't make her uncomfortable, I just don't know, but it was the feeling that overtook me.  I later had to explain my blood pressure issue to one of the assistants, which again prompted me to bring up Preston's passing.  More feelings of awkwardness.

I usually don't feel this way when I speak of my son.  I must have just been more emotional today.  Or maybe I felt vulnerable because I was at the dentist.  I don't like going, like most.  Or maybe, it was just one of those rough days that I touched on yesterday.  I did, try to take the advice from yesterday's quote and remind myself of my track record.  It helped.

I also had an appointment with my OB.  My final check-up regarding my blood pressure (which was fine).  My OB is really sweet, and so easy to talk to.  I was vulnerable from my earlier thoughts and conversations.  We talked about future pregnancies, about Preston.  She mentioned how much she loved what we did for his birthday.  We talked about how closely she would follow me once I become pregnant, one day.  She said there would be more appointments, more ultrasounds.  Basically, a lot of it would be for my mental health as she understands how much of a mess I will be.

It's interesting to long for something yet fear it.  I don't fear it enough to let it deter me, but I know there will be tough moments, having had both a miscarriage and lost an infant.  A pregnancy would be cause for great joy, and excitement.  But there would be moments of pure fear.  The same once I would hold my baby, and probably throughout the first year, and past.

My OB reminded me that all parents fear for their children.  They all think about SIDS, or car accidents, or kidnappings.  It isn't because I feared that SIDS could happen, that it did happen.  It was just the 1 in X.  It made me cry but it made me feel better.  She told me about a patient she had whose firstborn was stillborn but went on to have 2 other children.  She's looking into obtaining contact information for me to talk to her.  I feel blessed to have special in my life, that are willing to do what they can to make things easier for me.

But the thing that really just turned my day around?  My friend Krystal gave birth to her little girl today.  A perfect little lady.  And that gave me hope.  It made me remember that I have great moments to hold on to.  Preston may have never walked, or talked.  He may never have blown out candles or crawled.  But every day, I can remember the wonderful moments he gave me.  The smiles he gave me.  The way he would kick his little feet all_the_time.  The way he always wanted to say something.  The nights where I'd rock him to sleep and just hold him even when he'd been asleep for hours.

Life really isn't about milestones.  It's about the moments.  Cherish those moments.  They are more precious than you realize.