"You get what you pay for, but I just had no intention of living this way." -Counting Crows

Why We're Here...

My husband David and I delivered a stillborn Baby Boy that we loved, and wanted. Our first and only son, Logan, had Down Syndrome. Our daughter's smile is a little light in the darkness. She turned one year old three days after our sweet Logan tip-toed away on January 24, 2009. After 2 1/2 years we found out we were having another baby, whom we affectionatly called Rudy. Just shy of 6 weeks we found out Rudy was Ectopic. Rudy was surgically removed on May 26, 2011 delivering another blow to our already broken hearts.

Avert your eyes men!

This post contains subject matter of a feminine topic. Men, you may want to avert your eyes.

I'm supposed to start my cycle on Saturday. I know, we all feel much closer now. But here's the thing. That knowledge fills me with extreme anxiety. I am anxious that I may be pregnant. Logic tells me this isn't likely since we've done pretty much everything to prevent that from happening...but what if? I'm not ready to be pregnant yet. Then, on the other hand, I'm anxious that I am not pregnant. Which logic tells me is the best thing right now. But, the emotional side of me wants to be pregnant. I shouldn't be having my period because I should be 33 1/2 weeks pregnant. Should be. But, I'm not. It's messing with my head. I want to still be pregnant, and I want to still be huge and waddling around and complaining about being pregnant. I want to be fixing up the guest room to be the new nursery. I want to be busy nesting, and dreaming, and planning, and freaking out about having a new baby. I want all of that. I want my son. He should be here still. He should be kicking my ribs, and hiccuping, and doing somersaults. He should be. And I'm right back to being pissed that he's not. Last month was my first one. I didn't know it would arrive so soon (exactly 6 weeks to the day!) so I didn't have time to dwell on it. And when it arrived, it annoyed me, and made me terribly sad. This month, I'm anxious of what could be, and what probably isn't, and what I don't want, and what I really do. And I'm confused, and anxious, and full of sorrow. I hate what has happened to all of us. It is so permanent, and I can't hope for any change at all. And I see the dark cloak swooping in on me again, and I'm trying like hell to out run it. Now, I know that a lot of this is fueled by hormones, but not all. I don't want to replace Logan. I don't want to necessarily be pregnant with a different baby. I just want a do over. I want to try to get it right this time, and right with Logan. Obviously that's not possible. But I've come to realize that my heart doesn't have a shred of logic in it. Not a shred. I should be 33 1/2 weeks pregnant today. Should be. I should be 6 weeks from having my son.

My mom was here over this past weekend. I finally got the opportunity to show her Logan's memory box. And I realized something as I looked at his pictures. I didn't feel anything. There was a dead baby there. But not mine. My son had big blue eyes and blond hair. My son had his daddy's beautiful smile, and a cute little macho walk. My son, the one I always pictured, was not the one in those photo's. I didn't know that little boy. And it made me so sad, and it made me livid. I wanted to throw my kitchen chair against the cabinets. I didn't, obviously. I just sat there. I stared at a dead little baby with so much anger it blinded me. My baby wasn't supposed to be born yet. He wasn't supposed to be past tense. He wasn't supposed to be a dirty little secret, or an unspeakable horror. He wasn't supposed to be dead. I just don't know why after some ten weeks I still can't wrap my head around what happened. I don't know why I feel so obsessive and angry about something I have no power to change. I don't know why I can't seem to accept that I had a son, and he died. Why can't I accept that? Why can't I move on? Grandparents die, we move on. Aunts and Uncles die, we move on. We don't obsess over it. We don't scream that it wasn't fair. We accept it, and we move on. I can't accept this. I can't move on. I want to. Believe me, I've never wanted to move on so bad in my life. But I'm stuck right here. Stuck in the knowledge that my son is dead, that he's not coming back, and that we may never go on to have more children. And I hate it. I hate every blasted minute of this grief, and loss and knowledge and sorrow. I hate that it is steeped in every aspect of my life from looking at my husbands face and knowing my son would have looked just like him, to watching my daughter play and laugh and knowing I'll never have that with Logan, to my freakin' period! It's everywhere. I can't out run it, I can't hide from it, and I'm obviously having a hard time dealing with it. Where's my baseball bat? Something needs to get smashed!


Lea said...

I hate it too.... we all do. None of it is fair! Thinking of you in the next couple of days. That "cycle" thing gets me every time too...


Aunt Becky said...


Perhaps you should smash some old plates or something. I think that sounds lovely. Breaking crap sounds excellent. This is SO not fair.

Living With Loss said...

It's just not fair.

I think it's so much more difficult to deal with than any other loss because this is your child that was growing inside you. And because you loose all your hopes and dreams of the future with that baby. You have no happy memories of watching them sleep or hearing them laugh or comforting them when they cry...it's all been stolen before it was even here.

Thinking of you.

Barbara said...

Go and smash something. Find an old dish or plate or pot and smash the hell out of it.

I was disgusted with my body for snapping back into sync only 4 weeks after George was born. As if he never was. I didn't even think it was a period since I was still bleeding a little from his loss, it was just more.

I want to be pregnant, I don't want to be pregnant, I'm terrified of being pregnant... *sigh* It goes on and on.

Everything you are feeling is normal and crap and rotten and it's still early days so don't expect too much from yourself! You are moving on but moving on might not be quite what you think it is.

Wishing you so much peace.


Jenn said...

Heather... I got my period for the first time since losing Ty last week. At my 6 week check-up I was told it's come "any-day" and they "confirmed" this during my routine 6-week post-delivery exam... well, days and days and DAYS past and still nothing. I knew I wanted to get pregnant again soon, but wasn't sure if I was ready for it to happen the 1st month it was physically possible... then it happened, I got my period... technically it began on the 25th, but it REALLY kicked into high gear on the 26th and - MAN - what a basket case I was that whole day (despite being on vaca. in Maui)... We'll see what happens this month. But know you're not alone with all you've been feeling with regard to this "woman stuff" as some people call it :)

Ter said...


Julie said...

I am told smashing things really helps. You can usually get some really cheap plates at garage/yard sales and opportunity/thrift shops.

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