Where have you been?

I know that's what you're all thinking. Admit it. You've been checking in to see what's going on here in the T household.

Well, honestly, I had trouble keeping the happy going.

I got blindsided by another wave of the weepies that was lingering around, way down, from last month.

Sorry, folks. I couldn't even keep it going during the shortest month of the year!

I'm all cried out now though, I think, so there will be more posts coming. I'll also check through the February comments and announce the book winner (if there is one) in the next post.

And have I mentioned how supportive my hubby is? Somehow, he knows precisely when I need a hug...and he gives the best ones because he's nice and tall and I can wrap my arms around his waist. He really is amazing.

Really.

(That last one was for the anonymous commenter from the last post who I'm thinking may have been a member of Patrick's family.)

For now, I'll leave you with this question. It's no secret I'm a big fan of Ina Garten, aka Barefoot Contessa. She's elegant, yet down-to-earth. She likes Paris, flowers, and the color orange. I just love her.

(But not as much as I love Patrick.)

Anyway, I've found that even though I love her recipes, I rarely actually try them. I'd love to when I have more than 10 minutes to prep a meal, but I'm typically cooking dinner with PJ clinging to my pant legs, crying to be held. It doesn't make it easy to spend lots of time chopping or dicing, and I can't exactly hold him while working over a hot stove.

Still, I watch the show every day at 1:30. It's how I unwind while the boys are napping(ish).

It makes me wonder, do other people watch cooking shows for entertainment only? Is that weird? I guess it's like Patrick's watching home improvement/This Old House type shows, but not really having a house that needs a lot of repairs or renovations. (Thank God! Our home is only about 6 years old.)

Does anyone else find it relaxing to watch other people cook?

If only I could actually benefit from their cooking and get a day off from making dinner every once in a while...now that would be relaxing!

Happy Monday, folks!

Whoa

That last post was rough, I know.


But I'm glad I wrote it.


It's not like I sit and think about those things all the time. I have two sweet boys who are lively and happy and so much fun. They're a welcome distraction. It's just that every now and again, if something reminds me of what happened, it's still right there, just below the surface.


I know that in time, the wound will heal. It will leave a scar, but it won't keep opening as easily.

I'm anxious for that day to come.

In other news, PJ is all over the place. He's got crawling down so well, he's like a streak, zipping all around the house. His favorite pastimes are climbing the stairs, pressing all the buttons on every piece of audio-visual equipment we have, and lately, walking down the hallway behind his little push toy! (Video of the last one to come)

Jack amazes me with his ability to piece sentences together. He speaks very well - almost frighteningly so. If you ask him to identify a letter of the alphabet, he also gives you a word that begins with that letter. Example: "Jack, what's this letter?" "Dat double-yew, for wagon!" (What the heck??) His new favorite toy is Play-Doh, which he's recently put a blob of up his nose.

Way up.

(Green, of course.)

I didn't see it happen, and as I was putting him down for a nap, he started sniffing and snorting oddly, then said simply "I put Play-Doh in my nose." Great.

Fortunately, he's a really good nose-blower. I'm just hoping this isn't indicative of things to come. I mean, can I give him jelly beans for Easter?

Raw

So this is going to be one of those it's-my-blog-I'll-do-what-I-want posts.

It's a doozie. If you don't feel like reading a doozie, close your browser window now.

My reasons for posting it are twofold:

First, if you have never gone through a miscarriage, you might not understand how difficult it is, or even why it's so difficult. I wish I'd been more sympathetic toward my friends who'd been through one before me.

I'm not asking for sympathy - I have amazingly supportive family and friends. Seriously...amazing!

Second, I suppose that if I'm using this blog as something akin to a journal, it may be helpful to look back and reflect on these feelings I'm having.

I can't believe how affected I still am by it. I didn't really talk to many people about my fears or the things that made it so hard, but a girlfriend who's had more than one miscarriage emailed me yesterday to ask how I'm doing.

The flood of words, feelings and tears that poured out of me as I replied surprised me. I was shocked at how raw I felt - still. Like maybe there was just a thin scab covering the surface of a wound that had been accidentally sloughed off. I'm anxious for the wound to heal, but I don't want to pretend it's not hurting when it is.

So this post is my reply to her, with very little editing. It's raw. It's shocking.

It's how I feel right now, two weeks later.

As far as how I'm feeling, I'm okay. Just okay. I think I'm better than okay and then I see someone's ultrasound and burst into tears picturing the first ultrasound we had of our little one. When I first saw it, after I'd been spotting a few days and we were checking things out, I saw the baby in there and thought "Whew! There he is - he's okay!" And then she told me to hold my breath so she could try to hear a heartbeat and I started to cry. I knew that by 9 weeks I shouldn't have to hold my breath. I just remember that moment so vividly and felt like I was watching my baby die in there. It killed me. Then there were two MORE ultrasounds after that showing my not-quite-empty-yet, then empty uterus.


Another thing that kills me - that I flushed the toilet. When I knew it might be coming, the thought of flushing just horrified me. I couldn't imagine it, though I didn't know what the alternative was. Then, when it actually happened, it was so unexpected - like I didn't have any cramping at all, just sat down on the toilet in the middle of the night and PLOP! This huge thing fell out. I just yelled "Oh my God!" and Patrick came running in. I told him what had happened and that I couldn't look. I just didn't want to look in there. He said he would look, but when I got up, the water was so bloody I couldn't see a thing. And then....I flushed. I just didn't know what else to do....fish it out? I could tell by the plop that whatever it was, it was big...so it was more than just the baby, it was...what??...tissue? the placenta? blood clots? Probably all of the above - I don't even know. But now, when I think about it, I feel horrible that I flushed. I get a pit in my stomach about it. I don't know what I would have done if I'd fished him out...or if I'd have even found him in all the "stuff," but I just picture that little bean on the ultrasound and think, dear God, was that heart still beating when he fell out? Was he already dead? I am sobbing as I'm typing this...I think about it every day.


There is just so much about it that I never expected...emotionally and physically. How did you do this more than once?? My heart breaks for you, and it breaks to think that I didn't reach out to you more when it happened. Send you flowers, a card, call, bring you dinner...I'm so sorry! I'd find myself just sitting and staring into space after it happened - lost in my thoughts, reliving the moment, the ultrasound, everything, unable to believe it had happened and desperate to figure out what I'd done 2.5 weeks ago that might have caused the baby to stop growing. Hardly able to even think about Jack and PJ. Thank God my Mom was here!


And even though I would love more children, I'm scared to be pregnant again.


So, when you shot me that little email, I'm sure you weren't expecting all this in return. It's such a hard thing to explain all the feelings that come with miscarriage to someone who hasn't gone through it. Heck, after it happened and I cleaned up in the bathroom, Patrick went back to sleep! God bless him, he's the most loving, sensitive, supportive man in the world, and it was 3:30 a.m., but there was NO WAY I was going back to sleep. I just sat there, cramping yet numb. It killed me that he was lying there, snoring away, but I don't know what I'd have wanted him to do if he were awake. He needed to sleep; he worked the next day. I know guys grieve differently, and the distraction was good for him, but gosh...that was hard for me.


I'm comforted knowing that God's ways are not our ways. I have never NOT understood how God could let something happen as much as in a miscarriage...or worse, stillbirth. I've always wondered why on earth he even begins the pregnancy only to have it end. People say "it wasn't meant to be" (please tell me I didn't say that to you!) and I think, then why did I get pregnant, you know? But I don't want to pull a Job and question God. If He's good when good things happen, he's good when bad things happen too. He doesn't change. I just have to trust that He has a reason that I might never know.


I like to think that the baby is in heaven to pray for and welcome the onslaught of unborn babies that are sure to arrive now that Obama's in office. God, I hope he doesn't institute the Freedom of Choice Act!

Coming to terms

It's been a rough week.

I think I'd begun to get myself ready for the emotional impact of a miscarriage when I started suspecting something was wrong, but I was ill prepared for the physical impact. It's a much longer process than I thought it would be. I'm still in the throes of it, and every trip to the bathroom is a vivid reminder of our loss. It's physically painful and exhausting with no little baby to show for it, and that makes it hurt even more.

The grieving process has brought me through the same stages I'd experience with any other loss - blaming myself, envy towards other people who are experiencing healthy pregnancies right now, questions about who this little person might have been. I've been surprised by some of these feelings, and I imagine it's difficult for someone else to understand them, considering I was only pregnant for such a short time. I mean, it's not like losing an infant, or a two-year-old, right? While it's true that the knowledge I have of my boys would make their loss more grievous, a bond still existed between the baby and me that is hard to explain.

I dreamed that I was pregnant with a little girl before I even suspected I was pregnant, so I had been thinking pink; hence, my reference to the baby as "her" in my previous post. Of course, at only 9 weeks, I had no idea whether the baby was indeed a girl. A little part of me wonders if that was my only chance at having a girl, and of course I then regret any feelings I had about not wanting a girl. (Gosh, our minds can be our worst enemies sometimes, can't they?)

We're hurting, but healing, and while I wish I could understand the whys, I know that God is in control and His ways are not our ways.

Counting our blessings

WARNING: Even though that's an optimistic title, this post is going to be a bit of a downer.

I'll just cut to the chase. We lost our baby last night. Or I guess I should say I lost our baby last night. If we're not pregnant, then we can't miscarry, right? Though this is one burden I'd be glad to share, and Patrick's doing an amazing job helping me to shoulder it.

I was going to post this weekend about the fact that I'd been having a little cramping and maybe ask for some extra prayers...but the weekend got away from me.

I won't go into all the gory details, but suffice it to say, I was only 9 weeks pregnant and it could have been much worse! I was afraid about how painful a miscarriage was going to be, but I either have a really high pain tolerance, or mine wasn't particularly bad, for which I'm so grateful.

I'm also grateful for the fact that I already have two sweet little babies to cuddle and kiss. This would have been so much more difficult if it were my first.

I'm thankful for lots of family and friends who have offered their support, including my Mom, who's been here helping me with the kids since Monday.

I'm thankful for the most amazing, compassionate, understanding, encouraging and supportive husband in the world who just reminded me that he has an infinite supply of hugs and kisses to help me get through this.

And I'm thankful that I have one sweet little baby in heaven who will be waiting for me when I get there. There's something reassuring about that.

It's surprising how much we bond with our babies when we're pregnant, isn't it? Even though she wasn't moving around in there yet, I still thought of her all day, every day. I already loved her.

It is so hard to understand God's purpose for things like this - what could possibly be the point of creating this tiny life, only to take it away before anyone got to appreciate it? But that's the thing, I guess. It makes us appreciate life so much more. And God is good, even when it hurts.

I love you, sweet little baby! I can't wait to meet you some day! - Your Mommy