"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.

Taking Measure

You know, I've always been one to measure my life in milestones. I'll think to myself, "Wow, I've been with my DH long enough I could have gone through HS almost four times!!" Weird things like that. Anyhow, I find that I do that with Logan too. When it was winter I kept thinking if I could get past the winter things would be better. It would be a new season, it wouldn't feel the same. And here I am, faster than I can blink, knocking on the door of autumn...winter fast approaching...again. Its a strange feeling, how fast its all going. Seven months have come and gone. Three seasons. Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall is usually my favorite time of year. And though I am still feeling that old familiar prick of excitement in a hazy far off sort of way, I'm dreading what it means...and longing so much for it to go by quickly on one hand (to be past that scary one year mark with Logan) but for it to slow down because it's passing faster than I can comprehend and my daughters very short, and very endearing baby/toddlerhood is flying past and I feel like I miss so much and that I don't want to forget anything!!! (How's that for a run on sentence!?) It is bittersweet in it's truest form and ever so confusing for me. I just want to get as far away from this pain and these memories as I can. They keep telling me, "the salve of time" so I'm running for the salve with all of my might. But I feel so conflicted because I know that I spend a lot of my daughters life in mourning. And it shouldn't be that way for her. And it makes me sad. And I want it to be over with. I want to be here for her 100% and not with half of my mind wandering through dark alley's when I see her do something new and exciting! So as this winter comes screaming up on me, yes I get to get past the 1 year mark of my devastation...but it also means my daughter will be two, and I feel like I have missed out on so much of these last several months.


According to my ultrasound it does appear that I have PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) since my ovaries are loaded with cysts. I won't be seeing the doctor until Sept 10th for all my results (from blood tests and what not). I'll know more then. I have started the Pill, much to my dismay. However, like my husband said to me "We won't be having a baby while you're messed up either." So, I'm trying all I can to get "fixed". I've done some reading on PCOS and see that eating a "clean" (unprocessed food) and Organic diet to aid in controlling the hormone jig the cysts seem to have my body in. That is proving to be difficult to do cold turkey, so I've decided to phase out the enormous amount of processed food in my home, and to try to buy Organic when I can find it. Meat and Dairy seem to be the most important, but I'm having trouble finding local organic meat. I did find a service that delivers organic fruits and veggies (www.doortodoororganics.com) to my home at no extra cost. And according to my 2 Organic friends, their prices are very competitive. And hey...they bring it to me!! I like that. I have another friend who's mother has access to organic beef, so she said next time she goes to get some she'll let me know (it's a couple hours away). But I'm still looking for eggs and cheese. I just finished reading the book Master Your Metabolism by J. Michaels and it is all about how to control your hormones using unprocessed and organic food and products. I found it worth the read. Anyhow, I'd love to hear from any of you who have PCOS and know more of what its about (aladyontheverge at gmail dot com). I'm relieved to finally be moving in a direction that is going to help get myself under control again. Apparently PCOS causes depression, weight gain, facial hair, fatigue and a list of other "issues" I've been fed up with for some time. So...moving forward, one step at a time.

I survived the U/S with out tears. I got pretty worked up in the waiting room. My tech read my file and then started in on how sorry she was, how awful it is...and that she lost a baby at 12 weeks so knows its really a hard thing. She was super nice and I enjoyed her chatter. But being in a different place, with a different tech, under different circumstances helped it not be such an ordeal I think. I was grateful for that.

Ultrasound & PCOS

So tomorrow morning I go in for an ultrasound of my ovaries to check for the possibility of cysts that could indicate PCOS. Just more hormone checking I guess. The pathetic thing is that I'm more anxiety ridden over going through the ultrasound process (ON MY UNPREGNANT BELLY!!) than I am about the potential of having the incurable PCOS. The thought of laying there with my belly exposed going through the same routine I've gone through when there was a baby in there, except that now I'll get to see that for sure there isn't one in there...well, its just one more reminder that I'm no longer pregnant...and to go along with the birth control I've recently started to use to help regulate my hormones (with the horrifying side effect of baby prevention!!)...well, lets just say its a wonderful little reminder of what is no longer, what isn't currently, and what won't be for a positive minimum of three months while trying to straighten out my hormones. Ooh yay! Hello Monday.

An easier week

Cincinnati was wonderful. We had a really nice time. The aquarium we visited was pretty cool and our daughter seemed to have a really good time, which makes the sun shine on my world, even amidst the tornado watches and rain.

I'm having a pretty good week. And this week things seem to be easier to handle. I say this week because I have noticed in the past that the moment I say things are getting easier, they get a lot harder. So, like I said...this week has been easier. I was able to see a few little boys and not feel like I'd been stabbed. I even heard Logan's name called twice while in Cincinnati. And though I noticed, and though it made me wistful and yes there was a pang, it didn't make me feel like I was going to have a melt down. Progress. This week.

I've been having a lot of headaches the last several days. I'm trying to go organic and unprocessed in my diet in hopes of feeling better with the depression and hormones. However, I'm a carb addict, and I love my Sunkist. The caffeine is kicking my butt (or the lack thereof) and I'm trying not to take too many Excedrin (which contain caffeine) but with a toddler at home I just can't go cold turkey on the caffeine and suck up the headaches till there gone (usually three really nasty days). Anyhow, I'm hoping eating better will start to straighten things out and help me to feel better...or at least not so bad.


So I had my OB/Gyn appt today to have a look at my hormones. She drew some blood and the results will be back in about 3 weeks. She says it sounds like they're off. I go in on Monday to have an ultrasound done on my ovaries to check for cysts (PCOS) which could be wrecking havoc on me too. She wants me on birth control for three months. Yazz. Sigh. BIG SIGH. I know we're not planning babies. I know. But what if?? What if he changes his mind and the BC keeps me from getting pregnant for a long time?? Not to mention all of my other issues with birth control, and I have a lot of them. But she swears that it'll help with the depression and all of the other "side effects" of grief and babyloss and the post partum kick in the rear we all get that messes up our hormones. I'm still debating. I don't want to live like this anymore. This depressed hormonal mess if I don't have too. If it's not natural. She says she doesn't think I have any more depression than I "should" and she also said it hasn't been nearly long enough. Apparently seven months isn't long enough to grieve a dead baby. I guess I'm glad a doctor said that. Makes me feel less abnormal. She also said that I could get chromosomal testing done on myself which would give them a better look at the likely hood of having another baby with chromosomal issues. I'm not sure I want that sort of info. And when I told her that we wouldn't do any testing once we conceived because we wouldn't terminate under any circumstance (which seemed to surprise her) she said that she wouldn't recommend extensive testing then. I like her. She was upbeat and funny. When I told her I thought I had excess body odor she said "I don't smell anything" and then she laughed and told me that was a hygiene issue, but she was joking then too and said its just part of getting older. The office is very clean and updated/modern looking, something I couldn't say for my last doctor. I like that too. Makes me feel like they're more up to date in all things, though I know that's a foolish way to feel.

She read Logan's autopsy report. She said that the report's final diagnosis to Logan's demise (since he didn't die from having Down Syndrome) was "etiology uncertain" (which means they are not certain of what caused his actual death). She said she doesn't understand why they wrote that. According to the report Logan's organs shut down. This is what can happen with children who have DS. Everything is retarded. He basically had an overall system failure. No one thing caused his death but a combination of several. SO they couldn't point and say that his heart failed, or that his brain failed, or whatever. It all failed. When I mentioned to her the odds about conceiving another child with DS she said that those were pessimistic odds and that she had never seen nor heard of anyone having two children with DS, but that she herself has had a few patients go on to have "healthy" children post DS. She mentioned a current patient of hers in her late 40's. Her first baby was born around 40 and had DS, her second child born years later was perfectly normal. She even seemed very eager for my DH and I to get back up on the horse and TTC again. That might be the D.O. uber-OB in her talking.

I cried. I wasn't sure if I would or not. I've been having a few ok days lately so I thought I'd be in the clear. Laughable. I was trying to tell her about my face twitching (my tick!) and I burst into tears. She said the twitching was stress (since it comes and goes). And when I told her that I was irritable and argumentative she said "don't you have the right to be so?". Did you hear that hunny??? I have the RIGHT to be a jerk!! LOL! Seriously though, I didn't want to be there. Thankfully there was only 1 pregnant chic I saw in passing. Which is good because if we'd have started talking and she'd have asked questions I don't know that I would have been able to refrain telling her that mine died. Which would have been cruel to her. Monday I go in to get an ultrasound done on my ovaries to make sure there are no cysts. I'm hoping being there with a few pregger chics (who I am sure will be there),the ever familiar ultrasound and the whole process won't ruin me.

The hubster and I and our little muffin are heading to Florence, KY for a few days starting tomorrow. Just a mini-vacation is all. A chance to get away and not just to family or friends houses. To actually GO somewhere. I'm excited. I know he's excited too. It should be a fun few days and I am hoping for the best. If nothing else, I'll appreciate the adventure and chance to get away from everyday ho-humness of life.

Movie Quote

I watched Into the Wild tonight. It's not a feel good movie, but it didn't make me cry or sad. I think I found it to be more ironic. Help arrived, just a little too late. Seems familiar around here. I have found lately that I find "drama" on TV and in Movies to be laughable. Literally. I laugh. There may be something wrong with me. It could be my sinister evil twin. Anyhow, in the middle of the movie, the sister, who is narrating, says this:

And I fear for the mother in her. Instincts that seem to sense the threat of a loss so huge and irrevocable that the mind balks at taking its measure.

I almost choked. First, let me explain. To balk at something means to stop short and stubbornly refuse to go on. To take measure of something means to assess or appraise. And this is exactly how I feel. My mind does stop short of assessing itself and the damage to my emotional state that was forced into existence the day my sweet baby boy died. Because perhaps if I realized, put into a measurable term, just how much damage there really is...well then, maybe I would realize there isn't any point to the world continuing as I know it. One more way nature protects us from ourselves I suppose.

The Baby Shower and the Blonde Toddler

So. I went. I survived. I assumed I would. I'm glad it's over. It was uneventful, and just to make sure that my heart didn't go unabused during the event, the universe thought it appropriate to have someones newborn baby boy there. Oh thank you. So. That was that. I came home, ate two candy bars and drank a Slurpee for dinner and tried to zone out to Into the Wild and pretend I didn't just do what I did. I didn't cry. I just...pouted I guess. It just made the day seem gray and ugly (it was scorching hot and sunny).

Yesterday my DH and I were out garage saling with the muffin. At one sale my DH was leading the muffin around by her hand and a toe headed toddler boy walked up to him and held his other hand and walked around with him.

I can't make this crap up!

The universe is trying to do us in. I always pictured Logan as a toe headed toddler...just like his daddy was. So, I got to see what it could have looked like. The muffin on one side, the toe head on the other...my husband (with a heart on the verge of breaking) in the middle. It took my breath away.

God's Opinion

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on." -Carl Sandburg

So then can I assume, since the baby died, that it's God's opinion that the world should not go on?

It shouldn't.

But then, that's just my opinion.

Incoherent ramblings about why packing things away makes me cry.

The summer before my daughter was born I bought a bunch of infant clothes from this young mom at her garage sale. I think I bought most of what she had. Everything was so pretty and clean and in such nice shape...and cheap, I just couldn't not buy them. I was pregnant for the first time. I'm sure I showed. Her daughter looked to be about 18 months or so at the time. I remember as she was putting everything in the bag she started to cry. Her mom made mention of how it's hard to watch your babies grow from babies to toddlers. I just remember feeling weird and uncomfortable. I mean seriously...they're were just clothes...nothing to cry over. I thought. Thoughts of a naive mommy-to-be who didn't have a clue of what she'd eventually loose.

We're having a garage sale at our home here on Saturday. So I have found myself going through my daughters things, deciding what to hang onto "just in case" and what to part with. And oddly enough I'm doing it with a lump in my throat. An unexpected lump. My baby isn't a baby anymore, she's a toddler. She's growing up and having her own personality, her own likes and wants. And there it is...that pang. The pang that says that one of my babies is growing up faster than I can comprehend...and one never will. I put the two events together. I put aside so many baby items for Logan knowing that they would be used in just a few short months...and there they sit. Packed up. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Hoping. Just-in-case. Hoping because surely there will be another baby in this house someday. Surely this can not be the end of such a wonderful and short period of time. We live for 80+ years. And I get less than 18 months? 18 months to rock and hold my "baby" before she is no longer a baby. It wasn't long enough. I didn't know I would have such a desire to be a mommy. I didn't know how much I would love it. And now I do. And now I want as many babies as I can get my hands on. But as I look through Aubrey's stuff and I realize that there isn't a second baby here like was planned, and expected, and that there isn't one in my near future...how long do I hang on to this stuff...just-in-case?? Forever. I want all of it forever. I want to keep it because I KNOW that there is another baby in my future. Because I can just not accept that it has all been stolen from me. It was a mistake. There will be another little boy. Otherwise its all just a cruel reminder that we had hopes of a little boy, and those hopes have been smashed into a million slivers that have driven themselves down so deep into my heart I will never get them out!

I know why that young mom cried now. It's such a short window and I didn't know. I didn't savor it maybe as much as I should have. I didn't know. And now I do. I took for granted that I would be doing it all over again sooner than I could comprehend. Sooner than maybe I was ready for. But none the less, I was going to get to do it all over again. Logan should have been turning 3 months right about now. He'd be in a new size. 3-6 months. I'd have been a shopping fool all summer looking for baby clothes. He'd have been wearing those jumpers I bought from Kohl's two days before I found out that my world was crashing in on me. Green and Blue. Little lizards. I can see them clear as day in my minds eye. There, packed up with everything else. Shoved into the top of the closet that was supposed to be his nursery. I hate those memories. I hate what they remind me of. That gleeful innocence. Damn it. We were having a son!! A boy. And now it's just the three of us again and here I am almost 7 months later and I still can't get a grip on this new reality. I still can't believe this happened to us! I can't believe my baby died! My baby boy.

Today I feel the loss of two babies. Different losses, but a loss just the same. I have sadness for my daughter growing so fast while I wallow around in the misery that was thrust upon me three days before she turned a year old. I have tremendous grief for a little boy I never saw enter this world alive. He will forever be a baby, just not one I get to hold and rock and feed. Not one I get to worry over, fret over, get annoyed with. Not one that will ever grow out of his own set of clothes. Not one that I'll have baby memories of and get to complain and cry about how fast it all went. They say it goes by in the blink of an eye. Logan, his went before I could even think about blinking. And what do I do with his stuff? Will I ever be able to place those clothes on another little boy? Will I be able to look past the face that should have been there into the one who really is? Will I even get the chance to make a concerted effort not to worry about having to try to do that?

I don't like the loss of control I feel. Control over my own life and destiny. Shouldn't I be the one who gets to decide how many children I want to raise? Shouldn't I be the one to say weather or not there will be another baby in this house? Shouldn't I get to decide my future? How is it free will if I can will another baby all I want, and have none appear? I don't like being forced into the roll of a grieving mom for a baby that was never even born. I took it for granted. I took for granted how fast I got pregnant. And I did it when I wanted. We said, let's have a baby...and we did. We thought, lets maybe have another, and before we could really decide if it was the right time...BAM, baby! Getting pregnant was easy. I just did it when I wanted. And I took for granted that Aubrey's pregnancy and birth were so perfect. All babies, who are lucky enough to grow in the womb of a mommy who really wants them, are born perfect. Bad stuff happens to idiotic women who don't take care of their bodies and their babies. Bad stuff happens to bad people. Not to us. We're good people. We're good parents. We wanted that baby. We wanted our little boy and were overjoyed by his imminent birth. We missed something. Took it all for granted. Something. We just assumed. Assumed that babies are born healthy and alive and grow up when you love them. So what the hell happened? What did we do wrong? Assume? Take for granted? I just don't understand why our babies die. Why they're are created imperfect, why they get ill, why they aren't compatible with life? Why life isn't compatible for with them? I did everything right, and I failed. FAILED. LOST. STRUCK OUT.

6 months, 2 weeks & 6 days later I am still reeling. Still trying to figure it all out, piece it all together. Accept it. Move on. Forget. Remember. Breathe. Not curl up and give in to the darkness that is so much more inviting than this reality.

Guess I should get back to digging through memories and figuring out which ones I'm going to toss out for random strangers, who don't have a clue, to riffle through and pay pennies for. And I'll probably cry too. I'll probably stand there and remember the day I bought this or that for my daughter, how she looked playing with it, and how fast it all happened and how I thought I'd store it for Logan's use next year...and how it all came smashing down around me. And the day I realized it was ridiculous to hold on to so many things for a baby that IS NO MORE!! Or maybe I'll box it all up and just let it sit in the corner, with all of the other should've been items. Because in the end I'll try to hoard every minuscule memory I have of my babies...even the ones I fabricated. If memories are all I'll have left...

What the!? Is that a light I see??

I just thought I'd post and let everyone know that I am doing better this week and seem to have come out of my latest pit. The comments and encouragement I receive on this blog help me in a way that is incomprehensible. I'm not alone. I'm not crazy. I'm not going to die. I know that because of all of the wonderful people here in babyloss blogland who help to keep my head from going completely under. Thanks you guys.

I'm alive!

I survived. And not only did I survive seeing my pregnant friends, I had a good time. There was lots of baby talk and I talked about both of my pregnancies openly. My voice hitched a few times when I said "your son" so I stuck with saying baby most of the time. I thought it was going to be a lot worse, but I survived. I'm glad I went. Touching there bellies made me catch my breath. I remember that feeling all too well. It made me a little nostalgic and wistful, their bellies. In the end though I think I did a great job, and I felt ok too.
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Relax, she's just pregnant!

Ok, this is sort of like a twitter post. We're on our way to have dinner with friends and at the last minute another couple was added. They're the original pregnant ones. The ones who go pregnant right when Logan died. I haven't seen her since Logan died, always a "reason" or "headache" on her end. So here we are, on our way, and I didn't really have time to prep for it. Which might be a good thing, not to obsesses and get myself all worked up prior to the event. I'm so nervous though. I wish I wasn't. Her baby shower is next week too, so I think this might be good. To see her prior to the shower. I hear she is quite large even at her 6 months. I hope I don't flip out or cry. I haven't been doing well lately, and though I seem to be on an upswing, I'm still nervous about my reaction to seeing her and her belly full of the little boy who graced this earth at the same time that my son left it. Life goes on right!? At least she gets her little boy. At least he is alive now. We all know how that can change in the blink of an eye. As much as I wish for my son, I hope for hers too. I hope that no one ever has to have a baby die. I wish my hope was enough to make that come true.
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I'm back

Well, I'm back. The trip was what it was. I didn't really find any peace, but I was distracted for the most part. I really just wanted to come home. Yesterday the day seemed easier to be in. But I noticed this morning that I feel the weight pressing me down again. Not as bad as it was last week, almost like you see the fog drifting in and the mist sort of rises up around you, but you can still see through it for the most part. Anyhow, I realized that everything around me is adding to the depression. I feel lousy because I've been eating crap and I've gained 10lbs this month. My house is a constant thorn in my side, always messy and I never seem to get in front of the mess. And my dog, who I've come to realize I can't really get rid of, probably shouldn't, but still find her to be such an annoyance. Then, there's Logan. Last night I was so determined that things were going to change around here. That I was going to start eating right and exercising again...regardless if the weight wants to come off or not. I seemed to have felt better, physically if not emotionally though I think emotionally too, before this month long hiatus from giving a crap about my body. I was going to get up and clean and do all of the projects I wanted to get done around here, even if I "didn't want to" or "don't feel" like it. I was just going to do it anyway. But then here I stand this morning. No umph. No desire. No motivation to change anything. Just full of the desire to sit down and watch TV and zone out and not think about how awful I feel and how crummy my life seems. I started out ok. I watered my pathetic excuse for a garden this morning while my daughter played in the grass and walked around with her wagon. Then her grandma came to pick her up...which is a nice break for me once in a while but also seems to be what triggers more depression. Like I don't have the distraction of chasing around my crazed 18 month old, and my thoughts bang around the inside of my skull, and beat me down until I'm consumed with them and in a pile of tears. Then I called T-Mobile. That's where I went wrong I guess. I called about some international roaming data charges. I live in Michigan, across the river from Ontario. Apparently there's a lot of international signal bouncing going on here. So, I get charged for Canadian cell usage...when I'm at home...in Michigan. And if I just had to call now and then to get a credit, I'd be annoyed but whatever. But today, they refused to give me my $11 credit for data services. I don't even have a data plan. I have WiFi. It's free. But apparently when I think I am using my WiFi, I could really be using the Canadian data plan. They were real butts about it this morning and I hate to argue with people on the phone. I'm not good at it. I'm not persuasive. I just get mad, which makes me shake and feel nauseous. I hate it. It bums me out and ruins my whole day. I wish my DH would just take care of that sort of thing, but he's such a busy guy...and I'm not. He's so persuasive though, and political, and smooth. He could sell a light bulb to a blind man. Sigh. Anyhow, I'm just bummed out now. I did manage to pour Drano down my slow draining tub drain. I guess that's something. I am overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I need to post and sell on eBay and Etsy, but I can't even seem to get up enough gumption to update my listing software. And feeling like I am failing at everyday life brings me down even further.

On a lighter note, my Rose of Sharon has finally taken off this year and it pleases me. Except that I didn't think about how dirty of a plant it would be dropping all of the dead flowers all over my rocks. And no. I'm not one of those people who would go pick them up and throw them away. I can barely shower, I'm not about to be that anal. And, I noticed today that my tomato plant has 11 green tomatoes. BUT (help me out here gardeners) my Basil plant is a light green almost yellow color, and not the deep green I think it's supposed to be. Sigh. Whatever. I'll probably just kill it anyway. Well, I'm hungry. And aside from stuffing ice cream in my belly, there isn't much to eat her for lunch that doesn't require a ton of effort. Maybe I'll just switch back to HerbaLife...at least making a shake is pretty effortless, and it fills me up. I need to go grocery shopping too, I suppose. Anyhow, thought I'd say I was home (and "happy" to be home) and I feel like I'm in a less dark place, but certainly not in the light yet. Gotta love the ebs and flow of grief. But, maybe we'll play cards tonight and I'll get a cocktail and enjoy my evening, and not think about the crap in my life for a little while.

Sneaky grief

I lied.
The grief snuck out of my pocket whilst I laid here in the dark, on my brothers couch, half way between my reality and the only peace I can manage to find...sleep.
The tears come just the same, here or there.
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From darkness into darkness

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Maybe I really do want to be home after all.

I used to love to travel. Maybe I'm just getting old. I don't know. I had hoped coming to see my brother would help relieve some stress for me, or distract me. I will say, I've been distracted, but it's been stressful. It's hard on Aubrey to be away from her home and her daddy. She gets overly stimulated and tired and into everything, which stresses me out. Plus then I feel pulled in 12 directions when I am here and feel obligated to go visit a hundred and one different people when all I wanna do is lay down somewhere and stare off into oblivion. This was not the place for that. So, oddly enough, I'm looking forward to going home. Back to my cave. At least its mine. I miss my husband too. I miss the shelter from life's storm. There is just too much petty drama in the outside world, and lumping that on top of my already fragile state of mind is not good. They say trouble follows wherever you may go. Grief does too, but instead of being my shadow like it is at home, it's curled its self up and burrowed deep into my pocket, forgotten about by everyone but me. Where it is hidden from the real world, but my fingers are constantly fondling it. I can't ignore it, and I can't leave it alone since I feel it everywhere I go. But, at least I haven't been a pile of tears.
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David and I see the world very differently from each other. I see the world as a play ground with a million options and opportunities, or at least I used to. David is more realistic and practical. But I have to think since Logan's death we both feel trapped. Trapped in a course of action neither of us wanted, and one that neither of us know what to do with. I've often wondered lately how our life would be with out the glue that is our daughter holding is together. I don't mean our marriage, I just mean who we are and where we are. I wonder if my husband would have quite the job that adds to his misery if he didn't have to be a responsible parent. I wonder if we would have dumped our home and moved away. I wonder if we'd have traveled the world in search of this allusive thing called peace. I wonder if we'd have gone our own way in search of happiness or if we'd have clung to each other. I am thankful for my daughter on a level I was unaware of prior to Logan's death. I am thankful that she keeps us perpetually moving forward even when our minds give up their will to do so. I just wish that there was a compromise. That there was some way to rescue my husband from his imposed prison of responsibilities and offer him another solution. A pass to search for his peace too. I fly by the seat of my pants and don't give a lot of thought to the repercussions until later. In the past, if I wanted to move, I did. If I wanted a new life, I got one. Now I rely on David to steer me in the right, and safe direction. I guess I feel helpless in my desire to improve David's situation. When I need to get away, I go. But not David. He has to stay. I guess he's more trapped then I am. It makes me sad for him. I just want to make things better for us and I don't know how or where to start.
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I'm leaving

I'm going to go hang out with my brother for a few days this week. He lives back home, about 3 1/2 hours away from me. I'm taking Aubrey with me. I have to get away. I feel like I am suffocating in this blasted house. It makes me nervous to leave David though. He's been hanging out in the pit with me this past week too, and I don't know if the alone time will do him some good, or harm. I feel a little guilty to leave, taking away his chance at smiles (Aubrey) and leaving him in silence. It's just for a few days, but black days can feel like an eternity.

I spent the day cleaning and doing weird things, like organizing how my clothes are hung up in my closet. I think I am trying to get some control in my life again, because I also tried to kill weeds that I normally don't give a crap about. Control. I have always been a control freak and lately between the death of my son and the subsequent weight gain I feel very out of control. I don't like it. It also makes me feel scared and lost. I want to feel like I have some say in my life again. I want to feel like my opinion matters to the universe. I don't want to feel so small and insignificant any more.

It's August. Summer is winding down and I am fearful of the coming winter. Logan died in the winter. He died on a very sunny and frigid day. The sun was impossibly bright that day, and the air made your lungs tighten up and your throat want to choke. Or maybe it was the grief and tears. But I am afraid of the blah days of winter that seem to be approaching at lightening speed, though I sweat as I stand her typing this. If I am this sad now, how much worse will I be in the dreary days of winter, with out sunshine and warmth, and with the anniversary of his stillbirth looming? It's still about six months away. Seems like a long time, but I know how quickly these past 6 months flew bye. It also means that my daughter will be two, and she is growing up so fast, and I'm not ready for that. I want her to be my baby just a little longer. I'm not ready for her to be a kid. I'm not ready to move on. I'm not ready for the next major milestone that I fear might put me in the grave, or at least into a deeper pit. I'm not ready to be further away from the memory of my sons little tiny life.

The Secret Garden (aka Under the Tree)

How do you see or imagine your baby now that you do not him them with you?

I don't. I will always see Logan as a little baby, that died. He will never grow up. He never had a birthday. He was not healthy. I can not see him as a "normal" little boy who grew up. Logan had Down Syndrome, and since I do not know any young children with DS, I can't even imagine how he would be. Logan died because of his DS, which also makes it hard for me to picture him as a living little boy with DS. And I can not see him as a "normal" living boy as he had DS from conception. I do not see him in the wind, in nature, in God, in other babies. I do not see him in my dreams. Logan will always be an enigma to me.

How did the loss of your last pregnancy affect your choices/decisions about the birth of your subsequent pregnancy?

I am not currently pregnant, and there are no plans to become pregnant any time soon. Logan didn't die due to any birth or pregnancy complications, so I don't feel any different about the way I would have birthed him had he survived, nor how I will birth the next one. I would still have a hospital birth, natural, induced or c-section...which ever the doctor thinks is best. The goal would be to have a live, take home baby, so whatever that would take...I'm in. I do know that I will probably be uber-cautious during my pregnancy. But then, I was with my other two pregnancies too.

Sparrow Farm Creations Memorial Prints

Songs for Logan

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