Getting it together

There are times when things are really bleak. Then there are times like now where things feel like maybe, just maybe we're all getting back to "normal" and life is moving forward and I'm ok with it. Its a nice relief. Its hard to be sad. It takes a lot out of me when I get depressed, and I don't like who I am. Nor do I recognize myself.

I recently decided to really buckle down and loose all of my weight. Not just "some weight". I feel like I have reasons enough to motivate me, and keep me motivated. I won't go into them all because their the same reasons as everyone else (I'm tired of how I feel/look, my kids, my spouse, etc). But recently it came to my attention that should we ever decide to have another child, I need to give that child the best possible chance to start life with. Being overweight doesn't give them the best possible chances (gestational diabetes for starters). So, if I'm ever to have another child, my first priority is to loose these 50lbs and get my butt in shape, the right way. The healthy way. Because not only does The Muffin and the Husband deserve that, and me too, btw, but so does the little sprout I'm hoping for, my little Rutabaga (my dh decided to name our next child this, just in case, because we are so tired of hearing Logan's name on a regular basis. Especially since when we picked it out it wasn't even in the top 100, and last year it was in the top 5!!). All future reference to this child will be known as Rooty! LOL! Ok, not seriously. Not that the nickname might not stick, poor kid, but we promise to only name our children normal names. :)

Anyhow, so I'm on day 8 of the most successful diet stint I've ever been on. 8 days of eating on target and burning the amount I should (thanks to Apex's BodyBugg). I have a separate blog for that (http://thefattycakegirlsclub.blogspot.com) where I blather on about my diet excursions. You can join me over there if you'd like to gawk at me and see how terribly I have struggled in the face of depression and emotional eating for the past year and a half, and how I plan to only kick butt from this point forward! It ought to be real interesting!

I'd love to know if there are any of you fellow BLM's (or dad's for that matter) who blog about trying to loose weight post traumatic event. Let me know, I'll come follow you there!

We'll I'm off to make Potstickers for lunch. Keeping strong. Not caving in to the brownies that I really want to eat (even if I have to first bake them). Not caving into the soda I want SO BAD, or the Mochas! Feeling confident that I can get through this!! I mean hey, I survived the death of a baby...anything after this is cake right?? Mmm...cake!

Flowers for Logan

My husband and I took our daughter to the park this evening to play. This is the same park where we had Logan's tree planted. When we walked over to Logan's tree we were greeted by these:

Someone planted flowers at the base of my sons tree!!

I called everyone I know who knows where Logan's tree is and no one had a clue who did it. The city didn't do it because there are not flowers at the bases of any of the other memorial trees. So we're assuming a stranger honored our son with these flowers.

I can't even explain the overwhelming feelings I have. Some random person planting flowers for my baby. My sweet baby was thought of by someone other than us. Someone went out of their way to plant flowers for my son!! I'm overwhelmed. I'm so grateful. I may have to go put a sign up to thank them!!!

::: ::: :::

I also saw this written inside of a tube slide on the toddler playscape a few minutes later, and it made me smile. I'm starting to get more of a kick about seeing his name like this than I used to. It used to take my breath away, now it makes me chuckle.

My latest obsession

You know what "they" say...

So, this is my latest obsession or project or whatever you want to call it. And thanks to Emily, I've been able to stay pretty occupied lately. This is a name sculpture I made for my daughter.

When I made it I was just bored and didn't have a real plan in mind. But then it turned out pretty nice, so I thought why not whore myself out?? It gives me a creative outlet, and a few extra bucks...to help pay for my other creative outlets! :)

This one is probably my favorite. I did this one at Emily's request also. You can see all of the latest ones I've done on my scrapping blog here, or you can go see them in my Etsy store here. I thought they all turned out pretty cool and thought I would brag a bit. ;) Hope ya'll don't mind!

Oh, and about the mess that is this blog...I'll get working on cleaning it up ASAP! Sorry.

Feeling surprisingly OK

I'm feeling surprisingly OK these days. That seems weird to me, given that Logan's angelversary is a mere 2 weeks away. I've been thinking about him and what happened in the days surrounding his death a little more than I usually do. Like today, a bright, sunny and bitterly cold day...just like the day that Logan was born dead. And I remember walking through the parking garage at the hospital just a few short hours after birthing Logan, walking away numb and empty and shocked and confused. I remember thinking how far away the car seemed and how long the walk felt. I remember thinking that I would never forget those few moments there in that garage. Leaving, un-pregnant, whip lashed, disconnected...and with a strange feeling like I was in a dream or like the last several hours hadn't really happened. Today I remember that like I was just there. This morning I had the strange thought that a year ago right around this time my son probably started dying. I was so unaware, so clueless. I was sitting around, tired, happy, fat, and thinking that though I was miserable (I was never a gracious pregnant lady) that my life was pretty darn great. I was planning my daughters first birthday (just three short days after Logan died) and feeling Logan's faint kicks (which even then seemed odd to me, but hey, every pregnancy is different, and the doctor had just taken a peek at him and he was fine). I remember being afraid of how I was going to have a newborn and a 16 month old. I remember wondering if my daughter would notice, if it would affect her not being the "baby" anymore. I remember hating the winter cold and looking forward to May when Logan would be born and the three (or four if my dh came along) of us would be out in the new double stroller we had just bought that week (or were about to go buy in a few days) walkinf in the sunshine. I remember planning days at the park (where his tree is now planted), and wondering how on earth I was going to grocery shop, go out of town to visit my family, go to the bathroom...

But these days life just seems to be going forward. We live our lives around the giant elephant in the room. It's still there, but it isn't the main focus anymore. A very common subject, but not the only one. Time marches on, and I guess I'm marching on with it, instead of standing still and looking around in horror the way I used to. I'm starting to feel in this life how I felt in my life before Logan was conceived...aside from the fact that he was conceived and its now a gaping hole. But I try to focus on my life now, even if he is still in my peripheral vision. I feel like "Ok, there's your year. I let you take a whole year and wallow and excuse and cry and deal and feel and heal and avoid and be lazy, but now its time to start looking forward, planning, doing and living." So, that's where I'm at right now, today. I'm ok. It still makes me horribly sad, but I am positive the worse sadness is now behind me and that perhaps I am coming out of my depression. Of course, I'm keeping in mind that this all comes in waves and lulls. And I'm still going to allow myself to feel the lulls if/when they arrive. But for now, today, I'm feeling like a survivor. And I'm feeling like there might actually be a life for me beyond Logan, with out Logan.

Having said that, I still seem to have baby fever. I look at babies when we are out and about and I miss that stage with every fiber of my body. And I am still having a hard time accepting that Aubrey may be my only child, and that perhaps my child bearing days are over. I'm having a hard time accepting that perhaps its been taken out of my hands, when I wasn't ready for that to happen. I'm trying to be. I know that it isn't set in stone, not yet anyhow. But I am really struggling with being content as we are now. I still want a larger family. Not a huge one, but a few kids have always been where I wanted to be.

Someone asked my mother on Facebook the other day how many grand kids she had. I answered for her. Four granddaughters and a grandson in Heaven. Part of me answered because I was afraid she'd leave Logan out. And I know that technically she has 4 grandchildren. But Logan was here. He counted. And I still want everyone to know. I don't know if it was the appropriate thing to do, the appropriate place to say it, or even the appropriate person to say it to...but its done. Sometimes it still takes my breath away how adamant I feel about his existence. How quickly I am to tell people that he was here. How quick I am to get angry if he isn't acknowledged.

I'm fearing the next couple of weeks. I'm fearing what I'll feel, or what I won't. What I'll do or not, and if I'll regret the decisions I'm making about how to acknowledge this horrible day. I've read so many nice stories about those who have celebrated the "First Birthday" with various styles; releasing balloons, planting tree's, hosting parties, donating their time or money to worthy causes... But the thing is, January 24th wasn't Logan's Birthday. It wasn't even close to what was supposed to have been his birthday (May 19th). I didn't go into natural labor prematurely. Logan just slipped away, and I happen to have gotten "lucky" enough to have had a misdiagnosis of previa that prompted an extra ultrasound appointment that alerted the doctor of Logan's condition and prompted a visit to the pro's at the hospital. I carried Logan around in my belly dead for about two days. The uber-doc determined that Logan had probably died the night of the 21st, the night of my ultrasound. The ultrasound that wouldn't have even happened had it not been for a misdiagnosis. And I often wonder what would have happened if they hadn't induced me. Forced me to give birth to my dead son. The doc said that I would have probably gone into labor on my own within a few days or weeks. Probably. Or they wouldn't have been able to find a heartbeat at the next months appointment... Or... I'm glad it was fast. I'm glad I didn't have to walk around knowing he was dead. I'm glad that I didn't go full term thinking I was having a healthy baby boy, and then be slammed in the face with that horror. But, I wish I would have known that Wednesday of my ultrasound that he was dying. I would have liked to have been able to say goodbye, to have held him a little tighter in my belly while he slipped away. To have been aware, and not sitting around ignorant. But maybe knowing would have been even more excruciating... Anyhow, back to his angelversary. I just can't come up with anything that feels right. Its not a day I want to celebrate. I don't have any interest in visiting his tree that I see on a regular basis as I drive by the park. I have no desire to have a party, or a memorial, or a rememberance ceremony. There is no grave. He still sits in that stupid box on my armoir, where he has been for months. I don't really want to "do" anything to "remember" the day. It was a horrible day. I'd rather forget it. But since that won't happen... My dh feels the same way. It wasn't his birthday, it wasn't supposed to be, it shouldn't have been and it wouldn't have been had he lived. We don't celebrate the days our other loved ones die. Why celebrate Logan's? Because he was our son. And that's where I'm stuck. Part of me wants to do something, the other part doesn't. I don't want the time of my daughters birthday to forever be surrounded by a time of grief for a brother she was never aware of. That doesn't seem fair to her. But it seems odd to just treat it like any other day. When I think about that day, the vision I have is of me writing to him in his book. I have a journal where I used to track my pregnancy, then his death and have now written a few letters to him in. And maybe that will be enough, I don't know. But I'm afraid that I'll regret not doing anything more, and I'm affraid that doing anything will seem forced and weird. Last year I had so many ideas, things I wanted to do. One thing was to buy a star and have it named for him. But I don't even have that desire anymore. Now I just feel like maybe I'm wanting to commemorate the day because its what I've read so many others do. Its ok to do your own thing and no one should pressure themselves into following some status quo for The Dead Baby Club. I'm not sure why I feel weird about this.

So, we're in the home stretch. The horrible first year is coming to a close. By this time next month things should start feeling... feeling what exactly? All I know is that a year was supposed to be the magic number. I'm not expecting to wake up on the 28th and feel magically better or anything, but I'm hoping for days filled with more peace and acceptance now that we will be beyond all of the "firsts". Time heals all wounds, they say. Guess we'll find out.

I've added a few new songs to Logan's play list that I've been collecting for a few months. I've linked them to their lyrics in case you thought they might also be fitting for you.

They are as follows:

My Immortal - Evanescence

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart - Bee Gee's

Glory Baby - Watermark (about a stillborn baby)

Don't Wanna Cry - Pete Yorn

and the most fitting for me right now...

I Still Miss You - Keith Anderson

I also wanted to add these two, but I couldn't get them on www.playlist.com so...

Living for the Night - George Straight

What's Up Lonely - Kelly Clarkson

Thanks for being there for this past year. I can honestly say with all confidence that if I didn't have this blog and the support and love of my readers all through the horror that loosing a baby is, I'm not sure I would have survived, or at least have come out on the other end with out being a total nut job. This blog has saved me, at least a little.

The "other" baby boy.

[Knock on wood] I've been having a few good weeks.  I say good in relative terms.  I'm not a bawling mess.  I'm not sitting around staring out the window and depressed.  Actually if I had to say what I was now I would say I'm nothing.  I don't feel anything.  I don't feel angry, or depressed, or excessively sad.  I just don't feel anything.  My biggest issue right now is not caring.  Not caring about anything.  Not how I look, not how I smell, how I eat, my weight, my health, my house, my dog, my friends and family.  Nothing.  I've just given up the desire to care about anything these days.  I'm keeping busy.  I'm not dwelling on my plight a lot.  I'm just existing.  I feel detached.  Like maybe if I stay over here in this little box I won't have to feel anything too overwhelming.  I'm never in the mood to do anything.  I think, "oh I should go visit so and so, or go do this or that" but in the end, I don't.  I just never seem to "want" to when it comes time.  I just don't "want" to do anything.  I still just want to sleep as much as I can, and zone out into a book or the TV or a movie.  I have a toddler, so obviously I can't do that all day, but when it comes to my free time, I just zone.  I don't scrap much anymore.  I don't blog much anymore.  I don't email much or play on facebook much.  I don't do much of anything.

Today we went to visit our friends who had their baby boy last week.  9 1/2 months after Logan died.  It was the first baby boy I've held.  The first baby my husband has held.  We survived.  Actually, for me, the nice part was that I didn't feel "anything" twards this little boy.  I was excited to see him, enjoyed holding him and really didn't connect my feelings for my son with this little boy.  That surprised me.  All of these long months I've sort of looked at it like Logan left, this little boy came.  But nothing.  I didn't feel angry, or sad.  I was more thinking of my daughter at her birth.  It was nice.  I was nice to see that I didn't flip out, or get jealous, or bitter, or resentful or cry.  I just enjoyed seeing him.  I enjoyed their happiness.  I'm releived to be past it.

Halloween came and went.  This was the first "holiday" where I didn't find myself obsessing over the fact that Logan should be here, and isn't.  I had fleeting thoughts about what I might have dressed him up like, but for the most part I was distracted and consumed about Halloween with my daughter this year.  I enjoyed the entire day and only stopped to think about his absence, and what I would have done, later that night while I was laying in bed.  I realized it this morning and it felt like perhaps that was sort of a break through for me.

On the way to our friends house this afternoon I found myself thinking about how old Logan should've been right now.  5 1/2 months.  Sitting up on his own.  I would have been starting him on Rice Cereal this week or next.  I try not to think about how old he would be, where he'd be at developmentally.  I think it would be too much to handle.  Only on occasion do I stop to think where he'd be.  But today it dawned on me that he wouldn't be a tiny baby anymore.  He'd be moving on into becoming a big boy.  He'd be wearing 6 month old clothes.  Nursing less, experimenting with solids, sleeping more.  Maybe trying to get around.  I've always thought of him as this tiny baby.  Perhaps he'll always be a tiny baby for me.  But today, for a few minutes, Logan wasn't a tiny little baby.  And maybe it made it easier to hold my friends baby.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm moving forward a little further.  Maybe I won't die after all...

Don't hold your breath though.  Christmas is coming.  Winter is coming.  The anniversary of his death is coming.

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.