Wondering, and forever altered.

So.

I have to be honest. Recently a few people IRL have found my blog. It makes me feel weird. I'm a pretty private closed off person IRL and I keep my cards close to my heart. So having every raw emotion splashed across the pages of this blog to be read, picked apart, misunderstood and judged by people I see on a regualr basis...well, its awkward. I'm trying to just deal with it. This is my safe place. This is where I come to work through the horror that is having a child die before his first breath was ever taken. But I still feel weird. I don't like being that transparent. I don't like feeling that vulnerable to people I know IRL. Especially people who can not begin to fathom where I've been.

But. I'm trying to deal with it. I'm trying to get past the awkwardness so that I can feel safe and comfortable here again.

Anyway...

I never thought a year and a half ago that I would ever be in the place that I am today. Hopefully that offers encouragement to others who may just be starting out. It does get easier to live with, in time. I don't have nearly the amount of bad days that I used to. Now they're not so much bad days as bad moments. I still don't like hearing his name called out randomly, like at the Zoo today. There's just something about that. I'm hanging out, oblivious, most likely not thinking of Logan and I hear his name called and its like being slammed in the face with it again. Some people think that this would desensitize me, but I'm sorry...it does not. Not anymore than hearing my husbands name called, not any more than hearing my living child's name called. The name Logan is special for me, almost sacred. I'll never get used to hearing it called out randomly. Songs do it to me too. There are just way too many songs out there that fit how I feel. Walking this evening I had one loop through my Shuffle. Creed. Don't Stop Dancing. The very beginning of the song is this:

"At times life is wicked and I just can't see the light. A silver lining sometimes isn't enough to make some wrongs seem right. Whatever life brings I've been through everything and now I'm on my knees. But I know I must go on. Although I hurt, I must be strong. Because inside I know that many feel this way."

Anyhow, you can read the rest of the lyrics here if you want. The song tried to kill me. And like some sadist I replayed the song like four times! I'm hormonal this week. Driving back from the zoo this morning I started crying. Why? Get this. Because I started to think about if I died, that my daughter wouldn't remember me (she's just shy of 3). She wouldn't know the enormous amount of love I have for her. She'd grow up wondering about me, who I was, if I loved her. It crushed me to think of it. I don't know what my problem was. I just chalked it up to hormones. they're never rational anyhow.

I miss Logan. I miss the dream of the life we planned on. I miss the innocence of not knowing about this side of reality. I miss the thought of having my two kids, the days I had planned for us. I've come to realize that even should I choose to go on and have another child, Logan will always be missing. He should be here even after baby number three (coyly referred to as Rudy these days). It should be Aubrey, Logan and Rudy. Three. Or Four. But it never will be. He will always be missing. Its a hard thing to grasp for myself. I don't expect anyone IRL to ever get a handle on that either. You know. You're supposed to move on. Have more kids. Forget it happened. I guess. I dunno. Doesn't seem possible. I think the reality of it is that the parents of these dead children just stifle and lock away thier thoughts, memories and dreams of these "secret" babies so that the outside world won't label them as weird or crazy. Not able to cope, get over, move on. If Logan would've died at the age of five I highly doubt the outsiders would feel that way, much less have the audacity to even suggest perhaps its time to move on. But because he was a baby...because we didn't have "real" memories with him...because he didn't really have a life...we should move on. What about the memories we do have? The memories of him kicking? The memories of the sound of his heart beat? The memories of his dead body craddled in my arms? What do we do with those memories? How do we get over those? Move past them?

Logan would've been 17 months now. A month older than Aubrey would have been when he should've been born. I struggle with the fact that I can not imagine what my life would be like with a 2 year 10 month old and a 17 month old, especially one with Down Syndrome. I had no problem imagining it before Logan died...but now its just weird. I try. But I don't see it anymore, not even with Rudy. I see Aubrey with children about his age and it rips open a gash in my heart that is a fraction from being unbearable. I try to not think that she is lonely. I try to not think that she will most likely grow up to feel ambivalent, maybe curious at best, about the little boy who was her brother. This little boy that I have so much love for, she will not. I have lots of brothers. And I can not for one second imagine what my life would've been like, who I would have been, if any one of those boys never was.

These days that's what I struggle with the most. Wondering what life would've been like. Wondering what I would've been like. Wondering what Aubrey would've been like had she grown up with a brother. Wondering what we would all be like if Logan had been given the chance to have a life here on earth. Wondering, and never knowing. Forever altered, and yet not knowing to what extent or just how.

I miss that tiny life. I still have so many tears for that little boy.

::: ::: :::

On a different note I am proud to announce that I have lost the thirteen pounds of depression weight that I put on after Logan died. In fact, I've lost another pound more than that. The day that I surpassed my pre-pregnancy weight I cried. Those blasted pounds were just another reminder. I hated those 13 pounds more than any of the other ones. Put on because I just couldn't cope with what happened to me. Put on because I wanted to feel joy, comfort...anything other than what I was. Put on because I didn't care anymore. They were the hardest freakin' 13lbs a person could loose. It took me a year and nine months to get more than 3 pounds to budge. But I finally did, and though I have another 45lbs to go to my goal weight, I feel like a new person not having those 13lbs on me anymore. I blog about my struggles with weightloss in the face of depression, toddlerhood and life at my blog The Fatty Cake Girls Club if you'd like to wander on over and gawk at me there too.

I'm trying to resume life as if Logan dying didn't change EVERYTHING. But it did.

So. I thought I was pregnant. Sigh. For the first time in about ten months my cycle was 3 days late. I took a test after I was one day late and it was negative, but the test had expired months ago, so I thought maybe it was just too old. I woke up this morning and I just knew I had to be pregnant. Three days is a lot late for me. And I won't lie, I was excited. I was scared too, but the hope and excitement over shadowed the fear. A few hours later I started. Of course I did. Not yesterday when I was still wondering, but today...after I had convinced myself it must be true.

The thing is, we aren't "trying". David isn't ready yet. Sigh. So he was scared, or nervous or whatever. And I think this morning when I passed the news on that I wasn't pregnant he tried to not cheer. But he certainly didn't sound disappointed or sad. I was very sad. I cried and it was weird and awkward, and I quickly hung up. Its hard to be on such extreme opposites on this issue.

I'm trying to be patient. I'm trying to be understanding. I'm trying to not loose hope. I'm trying to not see the future flying at me with the speed of a freight train and the big fat age thing haunting me. I'm trying to shut up that scary voice that says by the time he is ready...I'll be too old and the chances of DS so high it would be stupid to risk it. I'm trying to keep a clear head about the whole thing and be positive and I am trying, I swear I am trying, to be content with what I have now. It just wasn't supposed to be like this. And I'm trying to resume life as if Logan dying didn't change EVERYTHING. But it did. And sometimes that reality is really hard on me.

And today these cycle hormones are my nemesis. And today I am sad all over again for the ones that may never be, because of the one who was...and then so quickly wasn't. And all over again I hate what happened to us. I hate that I am here. I hate that Logan died and I hate that it changed everything and I never got a say in the matter.

The Holidays and more PCOS

The holidays are coming.

It almost sounds ominous. Like “look out, the boogey man’s coming!” I’m trying not to think about it too much. I’m trying not to dwell on it. I’m trying not to sit around and count the months, and stare at the date on the calendar. I’m trying not to tell myself that this would have been his first Thanksgiving, old enough to eat mashed potatoes and yams or other smashed up Thanksgiving fare. I’m trying not to think about how hard these holidays would be with an insane 22 month old and a 6 month old. How traveling back home would have been chaotic and stressful. I’m trying not to look at all of the First Thanksgiving and First Christmas bibs, stockings and outfits. I’m trying not to think about what I would have bought him for Christmas. I’m trying not to think about what happened to us, what we lost, what we miss. I’m trying. For the most part I’m winning. Or at least I think I’m winning. I continue to stuff my face with anything that brings me a little pleasure. I continue to try not to think about it, instead of just not thinking about it…naturally. It seems like the worst is over though. Like the first 9 months were intolerable and now I’m sort of just coasting through. So sore, so numb, so devoid…but at least not feeling like I’m burning alive, gasping for breath. Now I’m limping along. Trying to get to that one year mark and just get it over with. Rushing along my life, my daughter’s life, my son’s very short existence. I can’t believe I’m knocking on the door of a year. Seems like yesterday, seems like a hazy dream, seems like someone else’s nightmare…seems like a lifetime ago. So many weird things that swirl around the whole dead baby thing. So many things I’ve yet to be able to comprehend, and now have lost all interest in trying to comprehend. Just go away. Leave me alone. I’m tired.

Yesterday I went back to the uber-OB. Turns out the nurse I saw last time while the doc was in surgery doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Gotta love that. Turns out I DO have PCOS and am Insulin Resistant. Yay. But, I did get to stop taking the pill, and am now taking an anti-diabetic that will help with the PCOS and even weight loss. But, now I have to really buckle down and eat healthy, organic, unprocessed food and exercise. I did that about half of the time anyway, but I couldn’t loose or was still gaining. She says it will also help with some of the exhaustion and depression. Not all, but some. Nature will still need to run its course. I should be sad. It was traumatic. No depression meds. You need to feel it, deal with it, and cope with your loss. We can’t put off the inevitable... Ok. Sigh.

So that’s where I am these days. Trying not to think about it. Trying to move on. Accepting that it happened, it’s over, I can’t change it. Trying to accept it anyhow. Trying not to be hateful or resentful. Trying not to blame. Trying to enjoy what I have, find the happiness in my daughter’s life, the happiness in the holidays, the happiness in a good marriage with a guy that even God himself couldn’t replace. Trying to be content. Trying to be happy, really and truly. Trying not to fall of the deep end, run away, scream, give up, curl up and die, shut out, or… You name it. Because it always feels like its right there. Like any minute its all going to come crushing down on me. Like any minute I really am going to flip out, and my mind will wander away and I’ll never be right in the head again. Although, honestly, I feel like I won’t ever be right in the head again anyhow. I feel like I’ve been messed up. Seen too much. Know too much. Must be like post traumatic stress or something. But I keep trying right? I keep breathing. That’s gotta count for something…right?

PCOS

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.