"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.

New blogs and the same old feelings.

I started another blog. It's a scrapbooking (and other crafty things) blog. I use it to post the LO's I do for Logan and my Daughter, plus anything else I do that I feel like posting. Lately I've been working on stuff for my future SIL's Bridal Shower. This evening though I made a bracelet to honor Logan. I've been planning it for months. Actually, before he was even born, though the design changed considerably afterwards. I made one for my daughter while I was pregnant with her, so I thought it fitting for Logan to have one too. Then he died. And then every decision I ever had to make about him became very tedious and something that had to be thought and re-thought and over analyzed...because after all I have a very limited amount of decision making to do for him and therefor all of them have to be carefully considered...since there won't be any time in the future to make it up to him. I did that with his bracelet too. I'll post the bracelet on my new scrapblog soon.
I have really taken to blogging. I really enjoy it and it gives me something to do, and makes me feel connected. Most of you already know about my diet blog, and the blog for my daughter. Then, of course, there is this blog. My original blog. The only blog I feel safe enough to be who I truly am.

I've been having a "better" week. Though, here I am at almost 3am blogging and unable to sleep. I'm getting tired now though. My mind was reeling when I tried to go to bed with my husband at around 10:30pm. So, an hour later I got back up...and went to make my sons bracelet. I've been doing some urn hunting. So many of you gave me very nice ideas and directed me to urn sites. I have to be honest, urn shopping for my baby is the second saddest thing I've ever done. The first was giving birth to him, after he already died. It's gut wrenching. I do not find peace in it. I feel more like I am picking at a wound that is trying so desperately to heal. It's shameful how this all gets drug out. Like the grief of a dead baby isn't enough, lets see how long we can keep picking at it. Like last week, Logan's autopsy report came in the mail. No explanation of it, just one sheet of medical stuff where the only thing I understood was short thumbs and hydrops. Oh, and a nice little sticky note from my former idiot doctor who said if I had any questions I could call. Nice. It would have been one thing for the report to have come straight from UofM in the mail...but from my actual doctor? Seems to me he should have called me. Just one more kick in the teeth.
Logan's tree is still not in the ground. I know he said at least three weeks, and I can't remember when we met so it might just now be three weeks...but come on!! Plant it already! I drive past the park every time I am in the car, just to check.
I can't believe summer is here. Winter was so long and horrible, and I wanted desperately for it to be over with. Its all starting to seem like a distant nightmare now. Oh, other than the gash in my heart. I hate knowing that will never go away. I hate knowing that I will forever pause to think of my son at the most mundane things...pregnant bellies, strangers babies, clearanced boys clothing, a blue onesie, the name Logan... forever they will jump out at me when I am trying to have a "normal" life, and forever they will remind me that no, my life is not normal. It will never be "normal" again. I don't think the people in my real life get that. I'm starting to hear things like "time heals all wounds" and what not. I don't buy it though. I don't think this wound will ever heal. It may close, and on occasion open back up, instead of being a gaping hole all of the time. But I think it will always be a "living scar". That's what my mom calls a scar that has "feeling" in it. Live nerves or whatever. You know, because most scar tissue has no feeling. This one will forever itch and burn and be tender. It will forever feel, and forever make me aware of the damage that my heart, my soul, has endured. I have spent my entire life avoiding unpleasant things. I can not avoid this, and unpleasant is the understatement of the millennium! But, admittedly, the tears come less frequent and last for a shorter time. Other than urn shopping, I haven't had a total breakdown in a while. I'm relieved for that. Maybe it means I'm learning to live with this, coping, finding my new normal. But every parent I meet who is new to this club rips my wound wide open again. And I still can not fathom that babies die. I still can not fathom that 1/3 of conceptions never become born children. It is inconceivable to me! We can walk on the moon, we can text message, we can cook food with waves, we have television and radio and every other cool technology that we have...but we can't stop stillbirths and miscarriages or SIDS.
I went to Babies R Us with my newly pregnant friend to try to help her register for the baby shower I had to tell her I could not be a part of throwing. It was my idea, the store. I thought I could help her see what she would need, and not bother with the dumbs stuff she'd end up returning. Being at the store was easy. I've grown very numb towards that store. But I'm pointing at things and we're checking out all of these new gadgets that they didn't even have 2 years ago when I registered for my daughters stuff. There was this one gadget, electronic and therefore I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. And I picked it up and was analyzing it trying to figure out what sort of timer it was (another nursing timer perhaps?) and I realized it was a kick counter. And slapped on the front was a nice sticker that read "helps prevent stillbirths!" And I wanted to scream. I wanted to walk up to the manager and tell him that was a load of crap! They should pull that off of their shelves, they should tell the manufacture that you CAN'T prevent a stillbirth!! And how dare they put that on the package. And how dare they scare new mommies who are oblivious to this horror?! HOW DARE THEY!! But My friend and I just gasped, and we stared at it...and then I put it down and told her NOT to buy that. But you know what? If I ever get pregnant again...I'm buying it. Because though I know it wouldn't have prevented Logan's death, I would have liked to have known when he died. I would have liked to have said...this was my sons last kick. This was the goodbye kick. This was when I could have held my belly and told my son goodbye. This is when I could have whispered to him all of the things I so wanted to tell him, and had no idea it was too late. I wanted to know when my son left me. I don't want a guess. I don't want a two day period. I want an exact moment. But really, I just want my chance to say goodbye back. And if that stupid little counter could offer me that the next time, I'll buy it.
Yeah. Having a dead baby will make you insane. Where's that sticker??


angie said...

Oh, Heather, that gave me chills. But until you wrote that beautifully haunting line, I hadn't really thought about it, but I would have liked to know Lucy's last kicks and last moments too. I just think I would have that contraption on for WAY too long, like constantly.

Also, I can't believe your doctor didn't call with results...maybe that was the preliminary report? Our autopsy was many many pages long. We also had an appointment with a high risk OB who went through the report with us to help us understand what would happen if we got pregnant again.

Thinking of you. Much love

Emily said...

Oh, Heather. I'm so sad for you, and so grateful you open your heart in this blog. It's comforting to know I'm not alone in my feelings. One of our mommy "group" has a newborn, and we're having a post-baby shower on the 15th. I don't know how I'm going to survive that. But you already knew that, didn't you?

I hope you find the perfect place for Logan to rest. Only you know what speaks to your heart, and where you'll be most comforted. You're on the right path, taking your time and really thinking about it.

Know that we're still praying for you and your family, and that we're grateful that you willingly rip that scab off to comfort others going through the same situation. (((hugs)))

Barbara said...

Oh honey, I'm checking out dopplers for exactly the same reason... not that I'm pregnant yet :o(

Your scrapbooking blog is quite lovely!


Tracey said...

hi heather...I think I have the same reaction to the kick counter - I'm horrified, but at the same time, I wish I'd had one...my daughter was also stillborn in January.

We ultimately had her urn custom made. His website is:

A photo of our daughter Rose's urn is on the top right side of the page. He was very respectful and kind to us throughout the process.

Sending you much love.

Anonymous said...

Heather, I just found your blog today and read a few of your posts. I am so sorry for your loss of Logan. My daughter, Abby, was stillborn on January 3, 2003. It's been six-and-a-half years but I still think of her everyday. The pain will lessen. You will laugh again. You will find joy in life, but, yes, you will have a living scar. When I encounter a girl named Abby, it pinches my heart. Or when I see a six-year-old little girl or plan for Christmas, it smarts. But the way I see it, that's okay. I don't want it to never hurt. She was my child and she died. As I write this, I'm tearing up. I owe her my tears and a wince of pain when I think of her. I also wanted to comment on your post about Logan's ashes. I had Abby cremated, then my husband and I scattered her ashes in the ocean. At the time, it seemed appropriate and I couldn't bear the thought of them sitting around the house (like you described). But when we scattered them, a small amount remained in the pitiful little plastic baggie they were in. I still have that baggie and those few remaining ashes. On her birthday every year, I take them out of the special box I put them in and I hold them. I hold her. You will do what you need to when you're ready. For now, allow yourself to sit in your grief. You'll come out on the other side. I now see the pain, the living scar, not only as a reminder of Abby. It IS Abby.
Lesa Stember

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