"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.

My Silence

I don't blog much anymore, obviously.  Part of it is lack of need, part of it is because I've been exposed.  Or at least I feel exposed, to my real life.  And you see, there was something special about being anonymous.  Not feeling judged by people I have to look in the eye, made it easier for me to be open and honest.  Not feeling like I have to explain myself and qualify each emotion, especially the ones I know to be irrational, but are there none the less, makes it hard for me to find comfort here anymore.  That makes me bitter.  I needed this space.  I'll be honest, it was an innocent exposure.  I believe deep down they were trying to help, to understand, not to gawk.  It just didn't work out that way on my end.   And frankly, now I just feel weird about this place.  Guarded.  Censored.  Fearful of my thoughts and the repercussions they could have on my real life. 


So, seems like these days everyone around me is having a baby.  Sure would like to hide from that.  I'm currently in the middle of throwing my second baby shower in the past year.  That's tough.  I can't lie.  And though I am thrilled that my brothers are finally having children, being the only sister in the family, thus making me the "go-to" shower planner...is rough.  Most days I try to ignore the ache.  Its not about me, its about them.  They deserve their bliss.  I just wish I still had some...  I'm not jealous.  I don't begrudge.  Them having, or not having, babies doesn't influence my reality.  My children would still be dead.  I dunno.  Most days I keep those babies of mine in a protective haze.  Protecting them from the world, and the world from them.  The thing is, I have all of these conflicting thoughts and emotions that swirl around my fogged, perpetually mourning mind.  And most of the time they don't make sense and are irrational.  Which, frankly, irritates me.  I guess its because I keep waiting for it to all go away.  To wake up one day and go "Yup, that's done.  I'm over it."  Obviously that's not going to happen.  And really, I don't want it to.  Mourning those children are all I have of them really.  It makes them real.  If I wasn't sad for them, missing them, endlessly wishing that they were here, healthy and alive...well, wouldn't that be weird?  Because if my living daughter suddenly died now at four years old, I would endlessly miss her and wish for her to be returned to me.  I would for the length of my life.  And no one would expect otherwise, or think it odd.  I don't know why I've started to feel like I am odd for missing my other two children.

To try, again.

That's the fear on the forefront of my mind these days.  Oh, how badly I have wanted another baby!!  I kept saying I didn't want to go out like that, I didn't want to end on that note.  Like I refused to let nature knock me down and not get up and punch right back.  But the thing is, now that the decision is mine to make, and one that needs making soon, I'm not so sure any more.  I mean, with Spina Bifida hanging out on the sidelines waiting to take its turn to knock us down, the fact that Logan had Down Syndrome and that the odds of us having another child with Down Syndrome (ending in either another stillbirth, or even more awesome - a neonatal death, or at the very least a seriously ill child who will never know a normal life, probably never make it to it's 40th birthday and live a horribly painful existence)  is seriously high, and now let's throw in an increased risk of another Ectopic pregnancy thanks to the "fluke" we experienced last May...  I dunno, in that light, it makes the feeling of having a healthy living child seem like a real stretch, and that is dismal.  Let's lump in the fact that my husband is done, though is willing for the soul purpose of my happiness, but none the less is full of fear and would rather not tread down that path again!  Guilt.  The guilt weighs me down.  Guilt over the last two dead children.  Guilt over not being content.  Guilt over putting our living child through something that is not a necessity.  Guilt if it all blows up in my face, again.  Guilt over what that will do to my husband, to our relationship, to my daughter, to the people around me...and all because I didn't want to go out like that?  And when I think about it, and I talk about it, and I write about it and I see it all laid out plainly in front of me...I think I must be the most selfish person in the world...or nuts.  And yet, I come to the same conclusion each time...what if I decide not to have another baby, and then I change my mind and its too late (assuming that its not now) and I spend the rest of my life regretting it?  More wondering, "what if?".  Anymore I feel like my whole life is one big what if?  What if the kids would have lived?  What if Logan had been born with Down Syndrome and survived?  What if these dead babies have ruined us?  What if I never feel whole again?  What if another baby dies?  What if it doesn't?  What if I never get pregnant?  And though I keep 90% of this stuff to myself, its been eating at me a bit more every day.

perfect life...except..."  There is always that exception.  And each day I come to the realization more and more that no matter how much time goes by, I will always feel their hole.  I need to be okay with that reality.  I need to find comfort in what is, and not what is not.  Grief is like that though.  It follows us around, long after we are done with it.  It is a force that demands to be reckoned with.

Sigh.  I miss the ignorance.  It would be so nice to just feel like I wanted another baby, and so therefore, we'll do it again.  Now that decision is forever tainted with not only the normal fears of having a baby (Am I ready to do this?  Can I handle two?  Am I getting too old for this?)  but with the fears that only a mother who has dead children can ever have...  The knowledge, not just the fear.  I know what it feels like when it all goes wrong.  There is no more speculation.  There is no naivete about how bad it really is.  And maybe that is what scares me the most.  Maybe I'm not ready for another broken heart.


Janine said...

Hi Heather. This is my first visit to your blog. I am so sorry to read your story about having loved and lost 2 precious children. Last Septmeber we too had a precious baby boy who bravely gave us 22 hours of so much love before He went home to Heaven. I just wanted to let you know there is another mom out there who is saying a little prayer for your heart today and sending you a whole bunch of love. It's not an easy path to walk. Some days it helps just a little more to know that there are other moms who understand. Much love to you. Janine

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