tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34554190143085347562024-03-05T22:16:34.429-05:00Finding My New NormalTraceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-13328329497482749872015-05-03T16:20:00.000-04:002015-05-03T16:20:32.246-04:00Infertility and Loss<div class="MsoNormal">
Two weeks ago, it was Infertility Awareness week. I was so
wrapped up in fundraising for March for Babies that I didn’t have a chance to
write anything about it. Today is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. These 2
topics are inextricably linked for me. And this year, I realize that, because
we now have a living child, there are probably people who think neither apply
to me any more. How I wish that were true.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fact of the matter remains, I am still a bereaved
Mother, and I still struggle with infertility. Both of these roles color my
life and have made me who I am, in both good ways and bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s start with the bereaved mother part. I recognize that
many people think I should be “fixed” by now. It’s been nearly 4 years, and we
now have a daughter to hold in our arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s hard to make people understand that grieving for Vivienne will last
a lifetime. There will never be a day that I don’t miss her, wonder what she’d
be like, and just generally feel cheated that I don’t get to see her grow up
and be a big sister to Eleanor. This does not mean that I spend every day in
sadness and tears. But it does mean that it’s always there – sometimes under
the surface and sometimes right in my face. Sometimes, the thought of her makes
me smile, and sometimes it makes me cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No matter what happens, though, she is still my daughter, and I am still
her mother. I’m incredibly grateful for Eleanor and love her more than I can
say, but she does not take the place of her sister. There is a quote I go to
often: Before you tell a grieving parent to be grateful for the children they
have, think about which one of yours you could live without. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bereaved parents like myself can
simultaneously appreciate the children they have and mourn the children they
lost. I guess broken hearts can handle more complicated emotions than we give
them credit for.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now the Infertility part. Since Eleanor entered our lives,
I’ve done a lot of thinking on this one. Mostly because this seems to affect my
parenting more than I expected. I can honestly say that I look at my daughter
with complete wonder multiple times a day. I know that all parents will say
their children are miracles (and they are), but what it took to get this girl
here – miracles on top of miracles. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I also carry a lot of baggage from our struggles. It is
still extremely difficult for me to be around pregnancy talk. It’s not very
complicated – when it comes to pregnancy, I feel like a failure. It’s something
that many people fall into accidentally, and some even plan for it and have
everything go exactly as they planned. I have never had a normal pregnancy, and
I never will. And I will grieve for a long time over not getting to carry
another child and not being able to give Eleanor a living sibling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I worry every day that I will lose another daughter. I
suppose this is to be expected when you know all of the things that can go
wrong, but I find that infertility colors this fear too. Every time a door
closed to us in our efforts to expand our family, I felt like the universe was
telling me that I did not deserve to be a mother. Because I did not carry her,
I somehow feel that I cheated the system, and the universe will correct for
that, some way, some how. I worked harder to become a parent than I have at
anything else in my life. And I work extremely hard to be a good parent to my
children, and it’s partially because I feel the need to prove to the universe
that it was wrong – some crazy cosmic agreement that if I do a good enough job,
I’ll get to keep her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every year, as these “holidays” of sorts come around, I say
how I wish I didn’t know about them. And this year, I say the same thing.
Despite the joy and love that a rainbow has brought into our lives, I am, and
will be for the rest of my life, the face of infertility and a bereaved Mom.
It’s the hand I was dealt, and I’m playing it the best I can. But it never goes
away.</div>
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<br /></div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-67299896727070538262014-08-19T12:23:00.000-04:002014-08-19T12:23:11.362-04:00A Very Different Birthday<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, our oldest daughter turns 3. There will be no party.
No blowing out the candles. No gifts for her to open. We’ve been through this
day before, so you’d think we’d know what to expect. But this year is
different.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year, we have her baby sister in our arms. There is no
doubt that she has brought joy and light to our lives that we desperately
needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You couldn’t find a child
that is more wanted than Ellie – we certainly had to work hard and take
unexpected paths to get her here. And we love her more than words can say.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But (you knew there would be a but), her arrival has raised
some very complicated emotions. Ones that I’ve been struggling with since she
arrived. And Vivienne’s birthday emphasizes them much more strongly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recognize that most of the people around us want us to be
“fixed” and fully expect that having Ellie means that we are completely healed
from Vivienne. After all, one child easily replaces another, right? When you
have a living child, then have another, you don’t stop loving and parenting
your oldest, and it’s the same even when the oldest isn’t here. I still grieve Vivienne even as I celebrate Ellie.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every activity we do with Ellie brings me happiness. But
with every activity, there is an undercurrent of sadness. When we took our
first walk, gave the first bath, saw the first smile, did the first midnight
feeding, our first thoughts are about how happy we are that she is here to do
these things with. And our second thoughts are how sad we are that we never got
to do any of these with Vivienne. It’s always there – the sadness behind the
smile. And it will be there for every first and many seconds, thirds, fourths.
. . </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And this all leads to one big realization that I had after
Ellie was born. If Vivienne had lived, she wouldn’t be here. I have 2 children,
but there is no path I could have taken in this life to have them both with me.
If Vivienne had lived, there would be no Ellie. And because Ellie lives, there
is no Vivienne. I was given no choice for which child I would get to keep,
which I suppose is a good thing. I love them both too much to choose which one
to raise. But it breaks my heart to think that my life path has that fork in
the road. My life took the road to Ellie, and Vivienne is on a different path.
It’s a very complicated thought process to work through for a Mom. I don’t
think I’ll ever reconcile this thought – I can only hope that one day, I’ll
just accept it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was also so busy leading up to Vivienne’s birthday (a one
month old requires a lot of time) that I didn’t give her the time that she deserves.
I know all too well about this Mommy guilt, but you don’t know guilt until you
feel like you’re choosing one of your children over the other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Typically, the week build up to Vivienne’s birthday is an
emotional time for me. This year, I didn’t feel it. Last night, I had the first
inklings of “OK, here we are. Another birthday without her.” I was just
sitting and watching TV and felt an emptiness. It’s a feeling I’m familiar
with, and there is both a comfort and unease in it. And the tears finally showed
up this morning as I fed Ellie her morning bottle. As I talked to her, I told
her that today was her big sister’s birthday. And I just started to cry and
couldn’t stop. Maybe I’d been holding in the tears and didn’t know it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
And so here we are again. Gifts for a 3 year old that go to
charity instead of our daughter. Singing “Happy birthday” through tears and
wondering who should blow out the candles. Wondering who she would be at 3
years old and what she would be like. But this year, we add Ellie to our
traditions – telling her all about her big sister and guardian angel. And thinking
about a life with a 3 year old and 1month old that can never be.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-18539964367355903172014-03-16T15:09:00.000-04:002014-03-16T15:09:51.460-04:00Thank You<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the past 2 and ½ years since we lost Vivienne, I’ve
made many friends and found many resources in the loss community. On my
Facebook newsfeed, there are posts from friends and pictures of everyone’s
children, with articles and commentary about infertility and infant loss
interspersed throughout. It makes for an interesting daily read on the world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lately, I feel like I’ve been encountering a lot of stories
about people being told that their grief is wrong, unhealthy, or even worse, a
sign of mental illness. Every time I see one of these stories, I feel a sense
of shock. How could anyone look at a grieving parent, at any point over their
lifetime, and tell them that they shouldn’t remember their child? I can’t
imagine anyone ever saying that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then I realize, the reason I can’t imagine it is that no
one has ever said this to me. Having heard so many friends talk about it and after reading so many articles, I spent a while waiting for someone to tell me
it was time to move on. But, no one ever did. Even after pouring out the most
vulnerable and sensitive parts of my soul in this blog, I still never heard the
words “you have to let go and move on.” Not once.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Generally speaking, the responses I have received to this blog have
been positive. People tell me how it helps them feel understood (even on topics
other than losing a child) and how they appreciate me writing so they can
understand what we’re going through. There is a large contingent who have never
said anything to me about it, and that’s OK. Maybe they are the ones who think
it’s time for me to “get over it” and “move on” but at least they have the
courtesy not to actually say that directly to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I guess what I’m actually trying to do here is to say
thank you. Thank you for reading, for trying to understand, and for your
positive and supportive comments. I feel lucky to be surrounded by people who
don’t question how I travel the road I was forced onto. You probably think it’s
nothing, but I have many friends who would disagree.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know where our journey will take us. I don’t know if
I’ll keep writing in this blog or not. It’s not that this part of my life is
over – remembering and grieving for my daughter is something I’ll do for the
rest of my life. But it felt like a thank you needed to be said to those of you
who have read and provided comments and notes of love and support over the past
few years. Who knows where we go from here, but I do know that no matter what,
we have a crew of wonderful people supporting us and rooting for us. And you’ll
never know how much we appreciate that.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-57757314886391131832013-12-26T07:45:00.000-05:002013-12-26T07:45:36.372-05:00This Christmas<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been a while since I’ve written. Over the past few
months, I’ve had a few different blog posts floating around in my head, but I
never took the time to sit down and write them. This one, I knew I had to get
out. I waited until Christmas was largely over – partly because I needed to see how
this latest Christmas would play out, and partly because I knew that people
wouldn’t want to read my sad thoughts when there is so much merry to be had.
It’s the extra dose of grief that parents missing a child get to carry at the
holidays.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I come into every holiday season with a healthy dose of
apprehension. I never know what the holidays will be like. Will this be the
year when I can find some joy in Christmas again? Or will it be weeks of
survival mode, trying to survive and make it to January?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our first Christmas without Vivienne was incredibly painful. She was
supposed to be born on December 22<sup>nd</sup>, and so the holidays came with
a fresh round of loss for us. I wanted no part of Christmas that year, and I
spent most of it in tears trying to figure out how I was even supposed to go on living.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our second Christmas, I tried. I did the decorations, I went
back to church, back to the holiday parties, and I tried to find the Christmas
spirit. We developed our new traditions – putting the ornaments on Vivienne’s
tree, picking out toys to donate in her memory, lighting a candle for her at
the Christmas dinners. There were fragments of joy, but it was still a sad
holiday season.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year, I tried again. I did the decorations, I went to church
and the holiday parties, did our Vivienne traditions, and even watched a
holiday movie or 2. And at every step, her absence stood right beside me, never
failing to make me recognize who was missing. Her absence was a presence
throughout the Christmas season.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we decorated the tree, I stood there and looked at it,
knowing that there should be a 2 year old beside us helping to hang the
ornaments.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we went to pick out toys for Toys for Tots, I wondered
what types of toys she would like and had to acknowledge that I would never get
to buy her one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I looked at Facebook each day, I was reminded that we’d
never hear her Christmas list, get a picture of her screaming on Santa’s lap,
or hear any “out of the mouths of babes” funny quotes from her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As my husband baked the Christmas cookies, I saw the absence
of little hands ready to decorate the sugar cookies and “help” make the
cookies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I sat in church on Christmas Eve, I watched children run
up for the children’s sermon. Seeing all of the little girls in their special
Christmas dresses just reminded me that I’d never pick out a special outfit for
Vivienne, dress her up, and take her to church on Christmas Eve.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And as I watched my family open their presents on Christmas
morning, I wondered whether this is the year she’d be into Christmas. Would she
have a Christmas list, understand Santa, and get really excited about her
presents? We’ll never know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is my reality. This is my Christmas. For each year that
we celebrate, there will be a baby who doesn’t turn a year older. She will
never sit on Santa’s lap. She will never decorate the tree, and she will never
open a present. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each year, I will
recognize that my family will always be incomplete. This year, we miss having
our 2 year old. Next year, we'll miss our 3 year old. And so it will go year after year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m guessing that each year, I will find a little more joy
in Christmas. But each year will also contain countless reminders of who is
missing the whole way through. I recently read something that called it the
“undercurrent of sadness” which feels about right. We may be smiling,
celebrating, and singing “Joy to the world!” but there is an undercurrent of
sadness to all of it. An incomplete family. A full season of thinking about
what could be this year, but isn’t.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/yXQViqx6GMY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-19041707630511563202013-10-08T17:34:00.000-04:002013-10-08T17:34:24.467-04:00A Crisis of Faith<div class="MsoNormal">
Holding on to my faith over the past 2 years has been a
constant battle for me. When Vivienne died, it forced me to <a href="http://www.findthenewnormal.blogspot.com/2012/01/why.html" target="_blank">re-evaluate</a> the
belief system that I’d been raised with. I had to find a way not to be angry
with God. I had to find a way to still believe. I have to believe that I will
see my daughter again someday. Some days, that’s the only thought that gets me
out of bed and keeps me going.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then we lost 3 more children. And I fought again to keep
my belief that God is good, and I needed to believe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then we lost any ability to conceive a child naturally,
followed by losing the ability for me to carry a child all together. And I
fought again to not blame God. To focus on the idea that eventually, the
randomness of the universe would have to turn in our favor. It has been a hard
fought battle to keep my faith through all that we’ve been through. And I’m
starting to lose the battle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the past 5 months, I have changed jobs (a transition
that has been more difficult than I expected), we bought a new house (with
issues and expenses that were not disclosed or uncovered during inspection,
costing us more money than we anticipated), we still own our previous house
(that despite many showings, overwhelmingly positive feedback and a price reduction
that is basically giving it away, defies all convention and will not sell), and
we continue to pursue surrogacy, despite a failed attempt on our first try (a
difficult, time consuming, terrifying and very expensive proposition).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Earlier last week, I hit my breaking point. I was completely
overwhelmed by all that we have on our plate. I did not know what to do or
where to turn. And so I did something I have not done in a long time. I prayed.
As I decided to do this, I heard the sayings people have often said to me. Let
go and let God. Give it over to God. And so I did, and I prayed. It was a
simple prayer, but delivered in the most desperate tone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God, I have more than I can handle, and I need Your help.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I let go, and I asked God to have mercy on us. I said this
prayer for several days, and yesterday something happened.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My beloved cat, Oliver, who comforted me at the lowest
points of my life died. It was completely out of nowhere – he was not sick,
showed no signs of being in any pain, and was his normal self when I left for
work. Yesterday afternoon, Gordon called me to tell me that he died. We don’t
know what happened (our theory is either a stroke, he choked, or some
combination of the 2), but it all happened in about 5 minutes. He was gone, and
I am shattered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told God that I had more than I could handle, and I needed
help. And instead, I got more pain. I hadn’t prayed for anything specific –
just to have some stress taken off my plate. And instead, I got more. It’s like
I can hear Him laughing “you thought you had more than you could handle? Well,
how about this.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At every bad news that we got, I fought against the idea
that God was doing this to me, that I was being punished. I told myself that
the universe is random, and sometimes, people have to play a bad hand. I told
myself that eventually, the randomness of the universe would turn in our favor.
But now, I have to admit, that I’m not so sure about that. I’m not so sure
anymore that God is kind and loving. I asked for help, and I got the rug pulled
out from under me yet again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People often say to me that God will never give you more
than you can handle. What complete and total BS. Do not mistake the fact that I
am still surviving what we have been handed over the past 2 years as me
handling anything. I feel broken on more days than not. God has given me more
than I can handle over and over again. And when I cried uncle and said I could
take no more, I got more anyway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know how to reconcile this latest loss. I’m losing
the will to fight for my faith anymore. I can’t quite figure out what I’m
fighting for. In the end. I think all I’m really fighting for is the idea that
I’ll see my children in heaven. And that’s what keeps me hanging on to faith.
And wrestling with the idea that maybe God is doing all of this to us after all
makes me feel like my ultimate punishment will be that I will not get to spend
eternity with them. Wouldn’t that be quite the last laugh at my expense? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This
thought of never getting to see my children again cuts me to the core of my
soul. It’s the thought that keeps me hanging on, but it’s also the thing that
can make me curl up into a ball and cry so hard I can’t breath. The idea that
I’ll never see my children again makes me wonder what the point is of anything.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
And what am I supposed to do with that thought? Let Go and
let God? I’ve seen where that gets me.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-76177462133682504032013-09-15T17:14:00.000-04:002013-09-15T17:14:18.107-04:00Running Out<div class="MsoNormal">
When I started thinking about writing this post, the title
of this one was “Running out of Options.” But as it started to come together, I
realized that I’m running out of so much more than options. I’m running out of
time. I’m running out of steam. I’m running out of heart to break. And I’m
running out of hope.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We learned in the spring that I’d be unable to carry another
child. While it was a big blow to absorb, we did what we’d done so many times
before. We pulled ourselves up and tried to figure out what our other options
were. We knew how much we wanted a child to raise, and with that as the goal,
we went to the next way to get it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so we began the process for surrogacy. My simply amazing
sister had offered to be our surrogate a while ago, and we were in a position
where we needed to take her up on that offer. It’s not an easy, simple, fast,
or cheap process. It involved multiple medical tests and clearances for her,
the sign off of a psychologist for all of us, and the involvement of 2 separate
attorneys drawing up legal contracts to formalize the agreement. It wasn’t
easy, but it gave us so much hope that we’d finally get the good news we’d been
waiting for.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday the 13<sup>th</sup> was to be that good news day.
We’d done the transfer 2 weeks prior and waited. But good news isn’t exactly
our thing, and so we received the bad news on Friday. The test was negative. To
say that we were devastated again is a complete understatement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each time, we’re left to wonder again why this keeps
happening to us. God knows we’re trying everything in our power to have another
child. We’ve gone well beyond what most people have to do. We’ve saved and
spent more money than we care to acknowledge and endured more physical and
emotional pain than most people have in a lifetime. And here we are, still with
our empty and painfully quiet house.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we’ve spent the weekend absorbing the bad news and
discussing our options, it becomes painfully obvious that we are running out of
ways to add to our family. We have to wonder how many more rounds of bad news
we can take before our hearts actually stop from being broken 1 too many times.
We wonder what lengths we’ll actually need to go to for having another child,
or whether it’s just not in the cards for us, and we’re chasing a dream that
will never be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As it stands, none of our options are easy, without
significant costs, and none are assuring of a happy outcome. We can try
surrogacy again with my sister, but that feels like an incredibly selfish
choice. The process was not easy on her, and knowing that I’ve given her a
glimpse of my world of going through so much for nothing at the end is a
feeling I just can’t shake. We can try surrogacy with an agency, but that costs
somewhere in the range of $50,000. We can move to adoption, which will run us
somewhere in the neighborhood of $30,000 or more, and if you’ve done any
searching on the subject, you’d learn there is no shortage of demand to adopt a
baby, and very little supply. There is foster to adopt, which I truly believe
is a wonderful idea, but would simply not work for us. The rules of the system
are that a member of the biological family has up to 3 years to get their act
together and can take a child back. I’ve already lost enough children, I can’t
raise a child for 3 years and risk having them taken away. I know enough to say
that I would never survive that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s it. That’s all we have left. Each is expensive,
difficult, time consuming, and comes with great risk. But that’s all we have.
And you can see how the options are starting to run very thin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a quote that I keep handy that I look at often. “Courage
doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day
saying ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” I see so many quotes that are along the
same lines. Never give up. Stay positive and try again. Keep the faith. But
lately, I’ve been forced to ask myself, when is the better choice to stop? To
not try again tomorrow. To let go of the hope because it’s never going to
happen. Where are the pithy quotes when that is the dilemma?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me be clear that I don’t want to give up. I’m not a
quitter. But I have to acknowledge that there aren’t many more options for us.
And even if we continue with any of the options above, we face the very real
possibility that we will never have a child to raise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end of the day, I’m 41, I can’t
carry a child, and I’m not made of money. And I’m completely exhausted every
minute of every day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m running out of everything. And ultimately, I have only 2
choices. I can stop and try to let go of the most important and desperately
wanted dream I’ve ever had. Or I can keep trying until the options are gone,
still facing the real possibility that I’ll have to let go of the dream anyway.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-7967428185833115802013-08-19T11:35:00.001-04:002013-08-19T11:35:31.104-04:00The Terrible Two's<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is Vivienne’s 2<sup>nd</sup> birthday. In so many
ways, I’m not really sure what to say about it. To think about what should have
been breaks my heart every day, but today, it weighs heavily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I should have a toddler wreaking havoc on my house. She
should be talking and walking. Instead, the silence of her absence screams at
me. We moved into a new house recently, and I didn’t have to think about little
hands reaching for things they could break or would be dangerous for them. It’s
a thought that crossed my mind with every object I put away. I would say to
myself over and over again, it’s not supposed to be like this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I can’t stop thinking about is that my baby isn’t
supposed to be a baby anymore. I can’t help but wonder whether she’s still a
baby in heaven or if she is 2 years old. I can’t picture her as a 2 year old.
I’ll only ever see her as a baby – the one and only time I got to hold her and
soak in everything about her. We are “celebrating” (a word that does not fit,
but there isn’t another one that does) her 2<sup>nd</sup> birthday, and yet she
is and will always be a baby to us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It adds another level of grief to our journey. We will
“celebrate” these milestones for our daughter, but she will always stay a baby.
On her 5<sup>th</sup> birthday, I will mourn not sending her off to
kindergarten, but also try to reconcile that I cannot picture my 5 year old
daughter. She will always be a baby, and each year will be a reminder that she
will not grow up to match the number of candles on her cake. I’ll think about where
she should be that year, but not be able to generate an image of her in my
head. She’ll be a baby until the day I die.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think of Vivienne every day, and I miss her every minute
of the day. Some times, I can smile about the great privilege it is to be her
Mother. And some times, she sends me signs that give me a big smile at my
thoughtful and amazing daughter. But today, I feel profoundly sad about all
that we are missing with her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Missing her like this is painful to the very core of my
being. And on days like today, I have to recognize that there will always be
days like this. Days where her absence causes me an emotional and physical pain
that I could never describe. And all I can do is tell myself to breathe, put
one foot in front of the other, and hope that tomorrow will be easier. But, I
live with the knowledge that even though there will be happy days, there will
forever be days like today that bring me to my knees. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We do things to honor our daughter, but it’s never enough.
We have decided to do a volunteer project for her birthday every year, and we
ask our friends and family to do a random act of kindness in Vivienne’s memory
on her birthday. While there is some comfort in knowing that good things are
being done in her name, I still can’t shake the overwhelming sense of guilt.
It’s never enough. Because I can never actually do anything <u>for</u> Vivienne, it
will never be enough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vivienne’s birthday feels very different for me this year.
I’m still sorting through how I’m feeling. I thought it would be easier this
year – not <i>easy</i>, by any means, but easier than the first birthday – but it’s
equally hard. For some of the same reasons as last year, but with some new
reasons added in. But at the end of the day, it is a milestone for our daughter
like it is for anyone else’s child. The difference is that it’s a milestone
reminding us of what we don’t get to share with her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I just miss her. So much that I don’t know what to do with
myself.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-19882904023173820982013-05-29T19:25:00.000-04:002013-05-29T19:25:34.187-04:00Why I Write, and Why I Stop
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I started writing this blog about a year and a half
ago, it was out of a moment of desperation. I felt incredibly isolated and
misunderstood, and I was desperate to make people understand, even if just a
little bit. Over time, the topics and words have flowed pretty easily.
Sometimes, it takes some time and effort to describe something that I think is
impossible to explain, but for the most part, I sit at the computer and
furiously type because the words and feelings just come.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the past couple of weeks, that hasn’t been the case. I
haven’t been as eager to write, and I don’t even know what I would want to write
about most days. I thought maybe it was because I’d gotten it all out, which I
know isn’t true. Or maybe I’m at a stage in my grief journey where the writing
isn’t as healing as it used to be. Nothing I came up with felt quite right for
what I was feeling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then I started to think about why I was writing. These
desperate emotions of wanting to be understood have caused me to be pretty vulnerable.
I bare my soul in this blog – the raw, ugly parts of loss and grief. Every time
I write, I put my heart on the table to be examined and evaluated by anyone who
reads about it. I’m not sure what it is that has made me comfortable with being
this vulnerable in front of so many people, including a lot of strangers. It
certainly was not my style in my Before Vivienne days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the first few months that I wrote the blog, I always
pushed “publish” with a bit of hesitation. Each time I put my thoughts, heart,
and soul out there, I wondered whether that would be the point when someone
would tell me enough was enough. I waited for the judgment that what I was
feeling was wrong, that it was time to move on, or to say something to minimize
what I was feeling. I was always surprised that the judgment never came. I have
no doubt that it was there, but at least the people who thought it were kind
enough to keep it to themselves. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t have any regrets about putting myself out there in
this blog. I know that sharing my experience has helped some other people feel
more understood and less alone. And I know that I have helped a few friends
have a better understanding of how to help other loss parents in their lives.
And because I have shared so openly about what we’re going through, I have
received support from friends I haven’t spoken to in years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But in being so vulnerable and sharing so much, I have to
admit that it is starting to make me feel weak. I generally write about the
struggle here, and I always wonder if the people who read it wonder how I get
out of bed in the morning (sometimes, I wonder that too). Lately, I’ve been
struggling with how this blog must portray my life vs. what really is my life.
I want to be the person who works through their grief and loss and comes out
stronger and more appreciative of life. When I write and read what I have
written, I am not that person. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I’m starting to feel that the blog is having the
opposite effect than what was intended. I started writing out of a desperate
need to feel understood. I continued to write because it was healing for me,
and I really felt like I was helping people understand what it’s like to walk
in my shoes. But lately, I feel the opposite effect. I find that when I write
these days, I end up feeling even more misunderstood and isolated. Maybe I
can’t get the words out right anymore. Maybe I’ve been through so much over the
past 2 years that it has become impossible to make people understand. I don't think it's possible to make people understand what it's like to lose a child, followed by more loss, and ultimately being told you can't carry more children. I don’t
know why, but I know that the blog is causing feelings that I don’t
enjoy and I don’t want to feel anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so I think it’s time for me to step away from the blog
for a while. I need to focus on the person that I want to become, not the
person who I have been. Maybe I’ll come back to it, and maybe I’ll find other
outlets that help me work through this grief journey I’ll be on for the rest of
my life. I’m trying not to hold myself to what I think tomorrow should look
like today. When I want to write, I’ll write. And if it doesn’t feel right,
then I won’t.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’ve all been so generous to read this blog and send me
many encouraging notes and comments. I’ve felt a tremendous amount of support
in writing about such a painful topic, and I’m very grateful for all of that
support. As I’ve battled with this idea of not writing anymore, it only felt
right to be honest and share where I am in my journey today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks for reading and for continuing to support us through
our journey.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-75021408043334360762013-05-21T17:37:00.000-04:002013-05-21T17:37:18.154-04:00What If?
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the weeks and months after Vivienne died, it was easy for
me to become consumed with all of the what-if’s that surrounded her birth and
death. What if I had gotten to the doctor or hospital sooner. What if I had
screamed and raised holy hell insisting on being examined sooner. What if they had
been able to hold off delivery for just a few weeks. All of these what-if’s, wondering
whether doing one thing differently would have led to a better outcome.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still have those moments where the what-if’s overcome me
and can’t be stopped. I try to tell myself that we did the best that we could
with the information we had at the time. We never knew that something like this
could happen, so how could we be responsible for knowing how to navigate it?
But that doesn’t mean that we won’t ask the questions. We will always wonder,
and we will always regret.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The what-if’s are getting the best of me again. Our latest
news that I won’t be able to carry another child has brought them flooding
back. With hindsight, I can see what an absolute miracle Vivienne was for us.
If any one of those what-if’s had worked out differently, our lives would be so
very different today. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For months now, I have thought about what our life would be
like if I could get a do-over on just one of those what-if’s. Wondering where
we’d be today if she had lived. It’s a bit of mental torture, but one that
can’t really be helped. Would we still live in our house? (we had planned to
move to another neighborhood) Would we be at the jobs we are now? (Gordon changed
jobs after she died. Mine stayed the same) Would we be trying for another
child? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that we’ve survived bad news after bad news in our
journey to have another child, I also have to think through everything else
that was taken from us with Vivienne. If any of those what-if’s had gone
differently, I wouldn’t have had the D&C’s after she was born. I wouldn’t
have developed the scar tissue. My lining wouldn’t be permanently damaged. And
I’d be able to carry another child. When we lost Vivienne, we felt like we’d
lost everything. As it turns out, we lost much more than we ever could have
expected.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took me a while, but I stopped searching for a reason for
Vivienne’s death some time ago. But I do still wonder why all of this has
happened to us – why we continue to have more barriers put in our way, and why
we’re on the receiving end of seemingly endless bad news. I know there are lots
of people who want there to be a reason all of this is happening – trust me, I
do too. But I can’t find one that feels right. Many of the loss Moms that I
know who have gone on to have their rainbow child tell me that they can now see
that the child they lost made the ultimate sacrifice so that the children they
had after them could be here. I’ve held on to that sentiment – feeling in my
heart that this might be the reason that felt right to me someday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s almost 2 years later, and I’m still trying to hold on
to that idea. It’s the only “reason” I think I’ll ever be able to live with. And I
still hope that will be the case. Until then, though, I wonder what if, and if only. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-78413215986885678242013-05-09T17:46:00.000-04:002013-05-09T17:46:29.955-04:00Mother's Day
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mother’s Day is a difficult holiday for me, as you would
expect. Losing a child makes the holiday complicated enough, but adding
infertility to the equation makes it an incredibly painful day. I recognize
that the rest of the world sees me in this grey area – I’m a mother, and yet
I’m not. Whenever I say that to people, they immediately disagree with me. “You
ARE a mother!” they say. And it’s true, I am. But I also know that in my
everyday life, people do not think of me as a mother.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I get it. I really do. There are many maternal experiences
that I just don’t relate to because I haven’t lived them. I don’t know what
it’s like to be so tired because of a fussy, colicky baby who won’t sleep. I
don’t know what it’s like to manage the terrible twos. I never have to run out
of work to pick the kids up from daycare. I don’t watch Baby Einstein or The
Wiggles (or whatever is popular with kids these days) because there are no
children in my house. And I’ve never had anyone call me Mommy. I know that I
live in this in between world where I know I’m a mother and the rest of the
world sees me as one only when prompted, but I don’t have any of the “mother
experiences” that other mothers do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just recently, I had a conversation with someone who asked
me the dreaded “do you have children?” question. I talked about Vivienne, as I
always do. They asked if we planned to have more children. I said we wanted to,
but it was proving to be difficult. And their response was “I hope it works
out. You’ll be a great mother.” Not you ARE a great mother. You WILL be.
Because parenting a child who isn’t here doesn’t count in the same way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was an experience that really summed up how I feel
about Mother’s Day. I talk about my daughter freely because she was, is, and
will always be my daughter, whether she’s here or not. People will recognize
her, offer their sympathies, but then go on to say that I’ll be a great mother
some day. I live in between the definitions, and so a holiday that doesn’t include
much grey is a difficult one to work with.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mother’s Day actually wasn’t supposed to be like this at
all. You’ve probably never researched the history of the holiday, assuming,
like I did, that it was invented by Hallmark or American Greetings. In fact, it
is credited to <a href="http://legacyproject.org/guides/mdhistory.html" target="_blank">a woman</a> who wanted to honor her own mother, who had lost 8 of
her 12 children. But you’d
never know that by how it is celebrated now. Today, we have cards to honor the
mothers of children here, but not the mothers who only hold their children in
their hearts or the mothers who long to parent a child that their bodies won’t
let them have.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so I’m left unsure of how to manage through this
holiday. When they ask the Moms to stand and be recognized at church, it doesn’t
feel right to stand. But sitting doesn’t feel right either. And so I stay home.
My husband and family struggle to find an appropriate card or gift that
recognizes me as a mother, but doesn’t imply that our children are here. I know
it’s a difficult task. I can’t really leave my house on that day because of
everyone enjoying their Mother’s Day with their children, another painful
reminder of things we miss with Vivienne. And so I put my head down and power
through, like I do with most holidays. Except that this is a holiday that
smacks me in the face with the inconsistency in how I see myself and how the
world sees me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP8N6KPFU0iWwXueFkDCokV3qHhptKXUWdoGbCCsC9nli98tKSdbuDZHDoMUZPjwKqdhnZyg8IuWs1lJ6E6RoqKJ3Pn67HvNdqCkCge-jb5MpdC8cJBjW_jR7mEthbMFSuPjfsTRME-JV/s1600/mothers+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP8N6KPFU0iWwXueFkDCokV3qHhptKXUWdoGbCCsC9nli98tKSdbuDZHDoMUZPjwKqdhnZyg8IuWs1lJ6E6RoqKJ3Pn67HvNdqCkCge-jb5MpdC8cJBjW_jR7mEthbMFSuPjfsTRME-JV/s320/mothers+day.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-46357432392557479102013-05-05T07:19:00.000-04:002013-05-05T07:19:09.474-04:00I Am Still Standing
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is <a href="http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/2012/05/international-bereaved-mothers-day.html" target="_blank">International Bereaved Mother’s Day</a> .
It’s not a Hallmark holiday, and you won’t see a card section for it at your
local store. It was started by a woman in Australia who lost her son. It’s the
Sunday before the standard Mother’s Day every year, and generally no one has
ever heard of it until they’ve lost a child. I know that’s true for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me, it’s a day to reflect. I think about all that we
have lost, the challenges of a bereaved mother in parenting a child who needs
nothing from her, and the knowledge that the rest of the world sees me very
differently than I see myself. I think about all that my children have given me
– an appreciation for the small things we take for granted, a better
understanding of the fragility of life, a stronger marriage, perspective on
what really matters, the knowledge of who will be there when life isn’t pretty,
and the strength to get up and face every day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This day is also about breaking the silence. For the life of
me, I will never understand the taboo around miscarriage, neonatal loss, and
grief. They are topics that make people uncomfortable, and people tend to shy
away from them. I’ve watched it first hand – that steady backward step away
from me as I talk about my children or my grief, the stammering in reply when I
say I have a daughter who died, the flow of clichés on how to view my situation
more positively (“there’s a reason this is happening” “just believe” – I could
go on for hours).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no silence on this topic in my world. I know that
my talking and writing about loss, infertility, and grief is too public for
some people in my life. These are supposed to be “private matters”, handled and
discussed as a family. Why is that? What good comes from keeping something so life
altering and defining private? That only serves to make bereaved mothers feel
even more isolated and different from the rest of society. If my daughter were
alive and well, it would be perfectly acceptable, and even encouraged, for me
to post pictures of her and talk endlessly about her. But because she died, I
am supposed to internalize those maternal feelings, plaster a smile on my face,
and go about my life as though nothing has changed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not talking about my losses and grief is simply not an
option for me. I feel a responsibility to break the silence and tell people
what it’s like to lose a child and live with infertility. I am responsible to
my daughter, whose life and death have impacted me in ways I haven’t even figured out
yet. I am responsible to the loss community to do what I can to lift the taboo
and help people not feel so alone, so disconnected, so misunderstood, and so
abnormal. And I’m responsible to myself to be who I am, feel what I feel, and
not be worried about whether it makes other people uncomfortable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am the face of neonatal loss. I am the face of
miscarriage. I am the face of infertility. I am the face of a mother who will
grieve for her children for the rest of her life. How, I'm not so sure, but I am still
standing. And I’m breaking the silence.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilr-wOWrwuO3yM5iU6WIqr7LNfxA5WgRsyfTtXOJvs56PPAIDQVMPXO8gvVC7JgWzqPxS2YFC0LzHXMUCaixJ58_AlPSiagG983TKiRVZKoG7UpUHgkKOKpRbZIz41NtnIt9ktV9huTqHw/s1600/photo+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilr-wOWrwuO3yM5iU6WIqr7LNfxA5WgRsyfTtXOJvs56PPAIDQVMPXO8gvVC7JgWzqPxS2YFC0LzHXMUCaixJ58_AlPSiagG983TKiRVZKoG7UpUHgkKOKpRbZIz41NtnIt9ktV9huTqHw/s320/photo+(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-47551699655491954512013-05-01T07:03:00.000-04:002013-05-01T07:03:12.438-04:00My Favorite Days
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since we lost Vivienne, I have to say that there aren’t a
lot of times of the year that I love. I don’t look forward to the holidays like
I used to. Her birthday is a day
to celebrate her, but the days before her birthday are really hard days. And
while there are only a few times of the year that I dread, there aren’t a lot
of times of the year that I look forward to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right now is pretty much that one time. This is a special
time for me and the path I walk as the Mom to an angel. In my everyday life, I
don’t get to be a Mom in any traditional sense. And it’s difficult to find ways
to parent a child who needs nothing from you. This time right now brings
together the special ways I can be a parent to my daughter. And I have already
come to look forward to this time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Saturday, I went to my second Mother’s Day tea. Let’s be
honest, Mother’s Day is not a holiday made for me and my situation. Losing a
child makes the holiday complicated enough, but adding infertility to the
equation makes it an incredibly painful day. Each year, a Mother’s Day tea is
held at a local bereavement center we’ve attended for counseling. The tea is to
recognize the mothers of children who are carried only in their hearts and won’t
be there to help celebrate the day. We talk, we cry, we make something to
remember our children. It’s becoming one of my favorite events, because it’s a
Mother’s Day recognition that is made for me and my situation. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Sunday, we had our second March for Babies walk. This has
become a cause that Gordon and I are very passionate about. Vivienne died
because she was premature. There was nothing else wrong with her. So an
organization that researches and fights for premature babies is right up our
alley. In getting involved with and fundraising for the March of Dimes, our
daughter has purpose. We can do something good in her name and help other
families not have to experience what we have. This year, we had 25 people on
our team walking as part of Vivienne’s Volunteers. They all gave and raised
money in Vivienne’s memory and then walked with us through rain and wind. Our
team raised a phenomenal $6,230! Fundraising and doing the walk is all about
Vivienne. We remember her all of the time, and we love to see when other people
do too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And lastly is our garden. Last spring, we planted a garden
for Vivienne. We took great care in selecting the right plants and flowers for
the space, and Gordon spent many days digging, tilling up the dirt, and getting
it ready for planting. We are not green thumb people, and so we weren’t sure
whether we’d be able to make the garden prosper, but we sure tried. All last
summer, when I wanted to be with Vivienne, I went to her garden. It was the
most weed free, well watered and cared for space in our yard. The flowers and
plants didn’t get very far last year, as they developed their root system, and
we weren’t sure how they would come back this year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks ago, Vivienne’s garden started to come back.
Despite our lack of skills, it looks like every plant is coming back this year
(some better than others, but so far, we haven’t lost any), and some are
blooming already. The plants survived, are on their way back, and we even have
flowers already. I get that space back that is full of life and beauty to honor
my daughter. I get to weed and care for her garden again, which is as close as
I can get to caring for her. It’s one of my favorite spaces, and this is the
time of year when I get that space back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so I’m trying to focus right now on being in my favorite
time of year. I know it doesn’t last forever, so I’m doing my very best to soak
it in and filling up the reserves for the down times of the year. If you need
me, I’ll be in the garden.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-20909960240295541582013-04-25T17:39:00.000-04:002013-04-25T17:39:22.619-04:00How Are You?
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been asked this question several times over the past
week. For the strangers and acquaintances who don’t know what I’m going
through, I can usually answer with “I’m fine.” But for my friends and support
system, the question has been a little heavier. It’s a genuine question of
wanting to know how I’m doing, how I’m absorbing the news we got last Friday,
and if I really am fine. I’ve been answering them with a shrug of the shoulders
and tears, because I can’t say that I’m fine. And I have so many emotions going
through my head that it’s hard to pick 1 or even 2 to be able to answer the
question. So for those of you who are wondering, here are the ways I would
answer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am relieved.” In a lot of ways, the doctor finally
telling us that we shouldn’t get our hopes up and that my chances of carrying
another child are not good frees me. I am relieved that there will be no more
procedures, no more poking and prodding, no more medicines. I am relieved that
I can start some things that had been put off while trying for another child
(like working off the 10-15 pound infertility gain). And most of all, I am
relieved that I do not need to spend another month setting myself up for
failure. I feel a bit of a weight lifted off of me, and like maybe I’ll get the
chance to breathe again. But the second I start feeling this weight lift, it is
replaced with another one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am wracked with guilt.” There are still things that we
could try. And while the doctors don’t have much confidence that any of them
would work, they are still hanging out there. In my heart, I know it’s time to
stop. But, the truth is I could still try. When people tell me that I did all
that I could, it doesn’t feel right to me. I am not exhausting every possible
option, and I feel like I should.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I feel alone.” I should probably say that “we” feel alone,
but I don’t want to presume to speak for Gordon. But this feeling of loneliness
doesn’t come from any problems in my marriage. It comes from being in a place
that so few people understand or know how to handle. I feel like the pitiful
person that everyone feels sorry for, but no one knows what to say to, and so
most say nothing at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am lost.” Having a child has been my primary goal for
nearly 3 years. Our life has been largely built around it, because it had to be
– I had medications and doctor’s appointments. Just last week, I was taking
multiple pills and 1 shot every day and had 4 doctor’s appointments to navigate
around. And just like that, they are all gone. My nightly ritual of taking a
prenatal vitamin, which I have been doing every day for 3+ years, is no long
necessary. I still reach for the vitamin bottle every night, and feel that stab
in the heart when I remember that I’m not taking them anymore. This week, I
didn’t need to think about assembling my meetings around a doctor’s
appointment. When a potential work trip came up, I didn’t need to think about
how that fit in with my cycle. The thing that I organized my life around is
over, and I’m feeling pretty lost on how to go about my day without it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am profoundly sad.” Hearing that news last Friday really
represents yet another loss for Gordon and I. People will say how there are
still ways to build our family, and that is true. But the fact is I will never
carry our children. I will never feel my baby kick for the first time, I won’t
feel them grow, and I won’t get that early physical attachment. And while it’s
the destination (having a child) that matters most, there is still grieving
when another path to that destination closes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have never felt worse about myself.” I have answered the
question this way for only 2 people – my husband and a dear friend who I knew
wouldn’t judge me for it. But, here it is. My feelings of self-worth are at an
all time low. To feel so damaged, both physically and emotionally, is a feeling
I wouldn’t wish on anyone. You start to think that God just thinks you’d be a
horrible parent, and so He finds every way to stop you from violating the plan.
You see pregnant women and parents with children everywhere and wonder why you
are so unworthy of that experience. Infertility already does a number on the self-esteem. Getting
the “probably never going to happen” speech from your doctor sends the
self-esteem to record lows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mostly, my head is swirling all day, every day.” All of the
emotions I described above, I feel simultaneously all day long. I’m finding
that it’s hard for my brain to process all of this when it feels relieved,
guilty, alone, lost, sad, self-loathing and other-emotions-I-have-yet-to-identify
all at the same time. I try to move forward with something to take steps to
move on, and I become paralyzed by sadness. When I even start to think about
getting rid of my maternity clothes, I get so overcome that I can’t even
breathe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s only been a week since we’ve had to let our dream go. I
know there is still much healing to be done, and time will do what it always
does – make things more manageable. In the meantime, I sort through all of
these complicated emotions and attempt to figure out a way to answer “how are
you?” in a way that is more easily understood, but still honest. It will be a
while before that answer can be “I’m fine.”</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-18905510303053719572013-04-19T15:40:00.000-04:002013-04-19T15:40:23.773-04:00A Window Closes Too
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This post should probably come with a disclaimer. This is
not a happy, hopeful post. This is the harsh reality that is my life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’ve been keeping a secret from pretty much everyone we
know. Over the past few weeks, I have been preparing for a frozen embryo
transfer. We didn’t tell many people because it felt private. I have taken
countless pills, both orally and vaginally (sorry if that’s TMI – welcome to my
world), been on a high iron and magnesium diet, and gone to acupuncture twice a
week. All of this was in the hopes that it would thicken my endometrial lining,
and we could move on to an embryo transfer. We’ve had mixed results throughout,
but got a glimmer of hope earlier this week that maybe, just maybe, we could
get there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We found out today that this isn’t the case. My lining is
pretty damaged from the D&C’s I had after Vivienne was born, and despite
medications, diet, and acupuncture, it will likely never get to where it needs
to be to sustain a pregnancy. While there are still some other options we could
try, the doctor told us not to get our hopes up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so a month ago, I closed the door on ever getting
pregnant on my own. Today, I attempt to close the door on ever carrying another
child.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s probably for the best, in some way. My body has been
nothing but a deathtrap for my children. It has failed me and them more times
than I can count. To continue to try for a miracle feels incredibly selfish,
like I would just be inviting more loss and heartache. To continue to try would
only be for my own self-worth, so that I wouldn’t continue to feel like a
failure. I can’t justify putting one of our precious embryos in an unviable
situation just so I can feel like I tried.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have never tried harder for anything in my life. I have
endured countless procedures, 3 surgeries, pills that could fill your medicine
cabinet, and shots and needles that fill 3 hazards containers. All of this in
the span of 16 months. And ultimately, all for nothing. All that I have to show
for it are 3 more children in heaven, a few extra pounds, a lighter bank
account, and a heart that has been broken over and over and over again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We will figure out a way forward from here. But for now, I
am just exhausted, confused, frustrated, angry, disillusioned, hopeless, and most
of all, unbelievably sad. I don’t exactly know how to accept that you can work
so hard for something you want so desperately and come up empty handed.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-39653252728644455402013-04-08T17:53:00.000-04:002013-04-08T17:53:39.512-04:00What's in a Name?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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There is an online magazine that I read called <a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/">Still Standing</a>. It’s a place where I cry, nod my head, and just generally feel
understood. All of the writing is about loss and infertility – 2 topics that
can make me feel so out of place in my everyday life, but in this magazine, I
feel at home. Each month, they introduce a topic for a blog round up, and this
month's topic is about how you chose your child’s name. It's a story that people
would ask about if she had lived. But since she’s gone, we generally receive
“what a beautiful name” spoken softly, like you would at a funeral.</div>
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We started discussing baby names at the end of the first
trimester. We felt like we’d be tempting fate to make plans any earlier. Boys
names were very difficult for us to decide on, but we had a few names going for
girls. Vivienne was always at the top of the list. I’ve known for years that if
I had a girl, this is the name I would want. I could only hope that Gordon felt
the same. When we started discussing names, and I told him “Vivienne,” he was
immediately a fan.</div>
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And so the days passed, and at about 16-17 weeks, we found
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although I would not officially declare it as her name. I felt like I needed to
see her, know her, and decide that yes, she’s a Vivienne after all. We started
to discuss middle names, but couldn’t quite decide on one. We were only halfway
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When Vivienne was born at 22 weeks and 1 day, we held her,
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daughter was a person and that she lived. Of course we wanted to name her. We
gave her the name Vivienne, and she was baptized.</div>
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When we left the hospital without our baby girl, we left her
without a middle name. As Gordon was out picking up my prescriptions, he called
me from the pharmacy. He wanted to give her a middle name, and it came to him
while he was waiting. She would be Vivienne Grace. When he came home, we called
the hospital to amend the paperwork and make sure that our daughter had her
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some comfort. </div>
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We talk about Vivienne all of the time and say her name like
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imagine those instances where we’d use a nickname. Those memories that we’ll
never get.</div>
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Weeks after her death, as I packed up my maternity clothes
and pregnancy books, I decided to look up the name Vivienne in the name book I
had. The definition<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- full of life. It
felt like the cruelest kick to the gut. For a while after her death, I had a
hard time with this inconsistency. My daughter, whose name meant full of life,
was dead. I’ve now come to accept that my daughter changed my life – made me
focus on what matters, and to make a difference. Her life is my life. It’s up
to me to make sure her name being "full of life" is expressed through me.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-68325721362994277632013-03-28T17:30:00.002-04:002013-03-28T17:30:51.492-04:00Letting Go<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m struggling with this concept of “letting go” these days.
Honestly, when I think about it, I have to admit that I don’t even know what it
means. What does it really mean to “let go”? Does it mean forgetting? Does it
mean no more pain or tears? Does it mean you stop talking about it? If I don’t
know what it means to let go, how am I supposed to do it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This topic came to mind during a recent appointment. I
recently started acupuncture treatments as a method for treating infertility.
As we reviewed my health history, the acupuncturist noted that I’d filled out
on my form that I don’t sleep well, and she asked about it. I told her that
since my daughter died, I can fall asleep easily, but I wake up multiple times
during the night – usually every couple of hours. She told me that she had a
meditation technique for me to try to aid in my sleeping. She asked that as I
lay down to fall asleep, I should imagine a rope connected to my body, with the
other end of the rope connected to my daughter. And then I should imagine the
rope getting longer and longer, with my daughter getting further and further
away. I knew what she was going for – it was her way of telling me to let go.
So I put on my fake smile (I’m exceptionally good at a fake smile) and lied to
her that I’d try it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t imagine a way that this meditation technique would
help me sleep. I really think it would create new problems in that I now
wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. But I understood what was behind it – I have
to let go in order to solve my sleeping problem. Here’s the problem – letting
go like this solves nothing for me. I never want to let go of my daughter, and
I never will. I continue to learn every day how to live without her. I don’t
live in denial that she’s gone, but she is and will always be my daughter, and
whether she’s here or not, I’ll love her until my last breath and beyond. It’s
simply not possible to let that go.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shortly after Vivienne died, someone told me about some
Mexican belief system (I have no idea if it’s true or not, but the story of how
it was told to me is). There is apparently this belief that the tears of the
grieving act as a weight on the person who was lost. When we stop crying, it
allows them to move on. The story was told to me as a means to be OK with not
crying for Vivienne every day – that it was a good thing in that I was allowing
her to move on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have to say that I hate this belief. If you think you have mother’s guilt
with your living children, imagine feeling that the grief and tears that you
can’t control are keeping your child from moving on to what comes after this
life. Not only do you feel a pain stronger than I can describe, but you also
get to feel guilty for carrying that pain because you aren’t letting your child
go and move on. Just imagine how that feels.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t necessarily believe that it’s true – that I’m
somehow holding Vivienne back. But it is something that I wonder about, and I
guess I’d have to say that I worry about too. I would never want to hold
Vivienne back, and to think that my grief and missing her would hurt her in any
way. . .well, it’s just a thought that is too painful for me to even process.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what does it mean to let go? I’ll never stop loving her
or missing her. I will always talk about her, and there will always be days
that I cry over losing her. For the rest of my life, I will do things to honor
her memory by helping other people. If eliminating any of those are necessary
for “letting go” than I have to say that it’s never going to happen. It's just not possible.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-75561493589799808632013-03-21T17:53:00.001-04:002013-03-21T17:53:33.203-04:00How Did I Get Here?
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m trying really hard these days to focus my attention
forward. It’s not always easy, but I try to focus less on what this latest
surgery means for me overall and focus more on what it means for me moving
forward. Yes, it takes away my ability to get pregnant on my own, but it also
opens up the option for a successful IVF. And that is where I try to keep my
focus.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there are days where that’s easier said than done. And
there really is no telling what will be the trigger for those emotions to pop
up. Today was one I wasn’t expecting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been wearing dresses all week to work. I have 3
incisions from last Friday’s surgery (one in my belly button, and one on each
side a few inches out and a little below my belly button). These incisions are
still pretty painful, making sweatpants and dresses (really anything that
doesn’t put pressure on my incisions) as my only clothing options. I’m not
usually a dress wearer, so I understand this probably seems weird to people who
don’t read this blog.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve seen the suspicious looks on my dress attire, and I’m
sure that I’ve caused some discussion. It wasn’t bothering me too much until
today. As I was running off to a presentation, a friend (who I obviously
haven’t caught up with in a while) stopped me to ask me if I was pregnant. I
get the suspicion – I’m wearing a dress, I’m still bloated from my surgery, and
I’m not able to work out (generally because of countless treatments, but right
now because until yesterday rising from a seated position and vice versa was
still incredibly painful). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know she didn’t mean anything cruel or mean in the
question – she was simply hopeful that all of our treatments and pain were
somehow paying off. No matter the
intention, it was still a question that felt like a punch in the gut. I already
don’t feel great about my shape these days, so basically being told that I
looked pregnant wasn’t an uplifting thought for my self-esteem. And I also had
to respond “no” to a question that I desperately want to answer “yes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I told a coworker what happened, she tried (in vain) to
get me to see the positive in the situation. Again, well meaning, but difficult
for me to do. So she said “maybe you are pregnant and don’t know it!” I had to
respond that it was physically impossible for that to happen – no amount of
miracle can make my tubes grow back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I drove home and thought about my day, I was
struck by the question “how did I get here?” How did my life come to this in 2
short years? Knowing that I’ll never be “pregnant and not know it” and where a
well meaning question can stop me in my tracks? The series of unusual events
and rare diagnoses that have led me to this point is pretty mind-numbing when
you stop and think about it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so, I’m trying to look forward, but there are still days
when I have to stop and wonder. How did my life become this?</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-28331057945715176402013-03-17T16:13:00.000-04:002013-03-17T16:13:22.937-04:00A Door Closes
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Friday, I had another surgery. We are hoping it’s the
last one before a successful pregnancy, but time will tell I guess. I have to
admit, I have some mixed feelings on this surgery. While I am mostly relieved
that it’s done, and the doctor did as I asked, there is a small part of me
that feels sad about it and sees it as another loss.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This surgery was to remove my fallopian tubes. I was pretty
clear going into this surgery that they needed to go. After 2 ectopic
pregnancies, hydrosalpinx that caused no transfer in IVF #2, and inconclusive
tests on them, I wanted them gone. They’ve been nothing but problems for me,
and now that we’ve moved on to IVF, they are an unnecessary organ. So, as I
would with an appendix, I said just get rid of the problem. And the doctor did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am mostly relieved that they are gone. They were getting
in the way of expanding our family, and now they can’t anymore. There is no
more risk of another ectopic pregnancy, so I never have to have that scare
again. And I won’t have to worry about them causing problems as we move onto a
frozen embryo transfer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I have to admit that I also feel a little sadness about
it. The removal of the tubes means I’ll never get pregnant on my own. Pregnancy
will never be a “surprise” or “we didn’t expect it” miracle for us. It will
always require some pretty significant medical intervention. It will always be
very planned, very clinical, and always have a doctor present. And there is a sadness that comes with that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that must sound strange, since we’ve already moved on
to IVF. I accepted long ago that medical intervention was necessary for us to
expand our family. I moved onto fertility treatments without hesitation. But,
there’s always been that thought in the back of my head that maybe it will just
happen on its own. That thought is impossible now, and letting go of it feels like yet another loss.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so we close the door on ever getting pregnant on our own
or having an unexpected pregnancy. It’s a necessary step in order to move on to the ways
that can expand our family and give us the greatest chance of success. But it
is a door closing nonetheless, and that brings some degree of sadness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t plan to focus on this closed door for long, since I know
there is a window opening that needs my attention. But, a door has still
closed, which must be acknowledged and grieved. And then, we move on.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-35943377401014557822013-03-10T20:01:00.000-04:002013-03-10T20:01:32.984-04:00Hope is Still Alive
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started writing this post a few days ago, with a different
title. The original title was “Enough is Never Enough” since that was how I was
feeling at the time. But a few days later, and some new news, and I can say
that I’ve shifted my viewpoint. Hope is still alive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was hoping that it would be a couple of months until I
wrote about IVF #2 in this blog. That came from the hope that it would be
successful, and we’d be waiting to announce a pregnancy here in a couple of
months. But, that wasn’t how IVF #2 went, and instead we waited to find out
what it all meant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We made it further in IVF #2 than IVF #1, but still not to
the finish line. This time, we made it through egg retrieval, which is a huge
hurdle. That part of IVF #2 went well this time. My body listened to the
medications (too well, actually, as I was at risk for hyperstimulation), and
held on through retrieval. They were able to get 14 eggs, which is a great
number. 12 of them were considered mature, and 7 fertilized and made it to the
freezer on day 3. So now, we have 7 little embryos waiting for us in a freezer
at our doctor’s office – a surreal thought for both of us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, that is as far as we were able to go this cycle. The 7
little embryos had to go to the freezer because a transfer was not possible. My
lining still wasn’t getting thick enough, and there was some concern over fluid in
my uterus and my tubes. We had to cancel transfer and do another test to
determine whether we would ever be able to transfer these embryos into my
uterus, or whether we needed to move on to surrogacy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was yet another make-or-break test for us. The build up
to that test was incredibly stressful and weighed heavily on both of us. This
test would tell us whether I’d be able to carry another child or if I needed to
close that door and move on to other options. I’ve been told by a few friends
that it’s time for me to move on to those other options. I’m sure on the
outside looking in, it’s easy to say that it’s time for us to move on. It’s
hard for me to explain how difficult it is to close the door on ever carrying
another child. I believe in my heart that carrying a child and bringing them
into the world successfully is a necessary part in my healing and ability to
find peace with my body. I know that’s hard for others to understand, but
please know that I know it’s the right thing for me. I will not let that go
until I have done absolutely everything I can do to make it happen. Only when
the doctors tell me it’s no longer an option will I move on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so the make-or-break test was Friday. This test would
tell us whether my lining had permanent damage and we would have to close the
door on carrying a child, or whether we were still in the game. The good news that
kept hope alive for us, is that there does not appear to be damage to my
lining. So we can now move on to some other options to thicken my lining to
make a comfy home for one of those 7 embryos.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other thing this test looked at was my fallopian tubes
to determine if there was a blockage or issue that was causing the fluid to
build up (a condition known as hydrosalpinx). This part of the test was
inconclusive, and so we go on to another procedure this week to get a better
look at the tubes and potentially remove at least one of them. It sounds more
drastic than it is. Given where we are in this process, my tubes have become an
unnecessary appendage, like an appendix. I’d actually prefer that they take
them out, since they’ve been nothing but problems.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so, off we go to another procedure, and then onto a Frozen
Embryo Transfer (FET) with one of our frozen embryos. A few days ago, all I
could see was yet another rare diagnosis, more tests and procedures, and a
potential end to our dream of me carrying a child, and that felt like enough is
never enough. But today, I can see another procedure, and then a chance to try
again. And so while IVF #2 didn’t get us all the way there, hope is still
alive.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-508311396200751742013-03-05T18:24:00.000-05:002013-03-05T18:24:24.854-05:00The Challenge - Weeks 3 and 4
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t believe that the 30 days have passed, and I’ve
wrapped up my 30 days, 30 acts of kindness challenge. It really has given me a
moment to smile each day, knowing that I’ve done something to help or that has
affected someone else in a positive way. I fell behind on my weekly postings,
but here are the final weeks of my challenge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 17 – donated $1 to Harvest for Hunger at the grocery
store. It happens all of the time – they ask me if I’ll add a dollar or so to
my order to help a charity. I normally say no, not because I don’t feel
charitable, but because I feel like I don’t have the time, and I’m in a hurry.
On this day, I said yes and learned that I should say yes every time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 18 – brought home Gordon’s favorite meal as a surprise.
I was home on this day, since our offices were closed for President’s Day, and
Gordon had to work. One of his most favorite meals is from a pizza place on the
west side. We don’t go there often because we live on the east side. But on this
day, I trekked across town and had his favorite meal waiting for him when he
got home, which he loved. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.thehungersite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=1"><br /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 19 - clicked the button on <a href="http://thehungersite.com/">thehungersite.com</a> to donate
food. These are incredibly easy, painless, and no cost ways to share a little
kindness. You click on a link, and people get something they need. I need to
remember to do this more often.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 20 – voted for the founder of <a href="http://www.sweetpeaproject.org/">The Sweet Pea Project</a> to
receive an award. Many of you have probably never heard of The Sweet Pea
Project, but I know I’ll never forget their act of kindness to my family. The
night that Vivienne died, we received a memory box from the hospital, which had
been donated by the Sweet Pea Project. It contained a book on loss, a
certificate that included her weight and length, photos taken by the nurses,
and a baby hat and blanket. That hat and blanket are the only things I have
that my daughter will ever wear. I will cherish them forever. I’ll give back to
this organization every chance I get.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 21 – gave a free mammogram on <a href="http://thebreastcancersite.com/">thebreastcancersite.com</a>.
Again, easy, painless, and no cost, but could save someone’s life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 22 – gave to a classroom project on <a href="http://donorschoose.org/">donorschoose.org</a>.
There are so many projects on there of things really needed by teachers, many
of whom work in high poverty schools with very little resources. I gave a
little to a local project for a teacher I don’t know, but hopefully it will
help them get the classroom computer they need.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 23 – donated food to the church food drive. They collect
for a food pantry in an incredibly low income area in Cleveland. We donated
food and cleaning supplies, which I know will brighten someone’s day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 24 – told someone to keep the change. I bought a couple
of mugs at a fundraiser at church and told them to keep the change for their
programs. “Keep the change” probably doesn’t work at a lot of places, but it
does at church!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 25 – made a donation to a charity for a friend. She put
out a request to help a charity that was important to her, and I did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 26 – sent a gift to a friend. It was for a special
bittersweet moment, and I wanted to do something special.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 27 – let a car make a left hand turn. Everyone else was
inching forward, trying to get where they needed to go, and blocking this
person from making their turn. I stopped and let them go.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 28 – wrote a heartfelt note to a friend. I’m trying to
do better at this. We all have friends who we think are doing amazing things
and really making a contribution to the world, but we never tell them that. On
this day, I chose to tell a friend how impressed I was by her efforts and how
amazing I think she is.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 29 – answered <a href="http://freerice.com/#/english-vocabulary/1501">vocabulary questions to donate rice</a>. Only
took me a few minutes (they start out easy, but they get much harder!) to
answer a series of vocabulary questions, and I donated 2,000 grains of rice to
the World Food Programme.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day 30 – sent flowers to a friend. I decided to end the
challenge as I began it. I sent flowers to a friend who has been incredibly
supportive of me over the past year and a half – always listening and never
telling me what I <i>should</i> be doing. I
always tell her how much I appreciate it. And on the final day of the
challenge, I wanted to do something to show her how much I appreciate it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so that wraps up this 30 day challenge. I’ve been really
touched to receive your messages about acts of kindness that you’re doing in
your neighborhood. Paying for someone’s groceries, giving gifts and kind notes
to neighbors, strangers, and friends, and just generally trying to be a kinder
person to the people around you. It’s helped me to find some purpose in the
last 30 days, which is an act of kindness that you’ve all done for me. Maybe
we’ll do another 30 day challenge again down the road.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-69977965438132884992013-02-20T13:07:00.000-05:002013-02-20T13:07:02.624-05:00The Challenge - Week 2While I'm late in posting, I have still been working on my <a href="http://findthenewnormal.blogspot.com/2013/02/taking-challenge.html">30 day challenge</a> of acts of kindness. Here are my updates for week 2.<br />
<br />
Day 9 - sent a thank you to a fallen serviceman's family. This one had been on my list to do, but I wasn't sure how to start. So, I went to Google and found <a href="http://apps.washingtonpost.com/national/fallen/">this site</a>. I knew that I wanted to send a thank you to someone's who had lost their child a while ago, not recently. When a loss is recent, everyone is around to remember your loved one and help you with your grief. Over time, most of those people go back to their lives, and you worry that your child will be forgotten. So, I picked someone who died close to the time that Vivienne died who was also from Ohio. Then, I googled and found his parents and wrote them a letter of thanks, assuring them that their son had not been forgotten.<br />
<br />
Day 10 - took a platter of cookies to the local firehouse. I dropped them off and thanked them for their service. The fireman who greeted me assured me it was nothing, which I know isn't true. Those people run towards burning buildings while we run away. The least I can do for them is give them cookies.<br />
<br />
Day 11 - sent a gift to a friend. She needed some encouragement, and I was happy to provide it.<br />
<br />
Day 12 - returned the cart at the grocery store. The weather was bad, and I could have put it in the section for a grocery store employee to get it. But I decided to return it to the store, so there would be 1 less cart for them to collect.<br />
<br />
Day 13 - bought coffee for a coworker. She'd been having a really tough week, so I went to Caribou and grabbed her favorite coffee.<br />
<br />
Day 14 - gave books to a friend. She was preparing for surgery where she'd be laid up for a while. So, I collected some of my favorite books to give her to help her pass the time.<br />
<br />
Day 15 - gave a 100% tip to a waitress. It was just me, so the check wasn't big. I know how hard waitresses work, so I left her a 100% tip.<br />
<br />
Day 16 - donated magazines to the library. Our local library collects magazines to donate to the elderly and to give to kids for craft projects. We collected up a bunch of our magazines, and I dropped them off at the library.<br />
<br />
I've been really touched by everyone sending me their notes of random acts of kindness that they've done. It helps to encourage me to keep going on the project and see the 30 days fly by!Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-50993946725698205712013-02-09T14:41:00.000-05:002013-02-09T14:41:33.492-05:00The Challenge - Week 1Last week, I wrote about my 30 day challenge - 30 days, <a href="http://findthenewnormal.blogspot.com/2013/02/taking-challenge.html">30 random acts of kindness</a>. I know that some of you reading have also joined in, so I wanted to update you on my week 1 of the challenge.<br />
<br />
Day 1 - sent flowers to my Mom. For those of you that don't know my Mom, you're missing out. She's one of the most giving and kindest people I know. I don't tell her nearly as often as I should how much she means to me. So, it felt appropriate that day 1 was to thank her and make her feel special.<br />
<br />
Day 2 - bought coffee for strangers. I had a Starbucks gift card laying around, so I took it in and told the barista to buy coffee for as many people as it would cover, and to tell them to pass on the kindness.<br />
<br />
Day 3 - fed people's parking meters. I'm guessing that no one realized I fed their empty parking meter, but maybe I saved someone a parking ticket!<br />
<br />
Day 4 - bought bagels for my coworkers. It was a Monday, and nobody likes a Monday, so I took bagels to the office for my coworkers to hopefully brighten their day just a little.<br />
<br />
Day 5 - wrote a congratulations email to an old friend. It may not sound like much, but she'd recently had a baby. Congratulations notes on new babies are not easy for me to write, but it is the kind thing to do.<br />
<br />
Day 6 - brought home treats for Gordon. It was little, but it was a candy that he loves, and he was super excited about the gesture.<br />
<br />
Day 7 - let a car go in front of me in traffic. I know it doesn't sound like much (it isn't 30 days of grand gestures!), but it's a location where I normally don't let people in front of me, but on this day I did.<br />
<br />
Day 8 - sent a Valentine to a children's hospital that's collecting them to give to the children on Valentine's Day.<br />
<br />
So, that's week 1! I have a few more ideas for the coming week, but I'd love to hear your ideas too!Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-77367247205028121942013-02-01T16:09:00.000-05:002013-02-09T14:41:49.891-05:00Taking the Challenge<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve written before that trying for another child after
you’ve lost a child (or children, for that matter) is like <a href="http://www.findthenewnormal.blogspot.com/2012/09/jumping-off-cliff.html">jumping off a cliff</a>.
You don’t know if your parachute will work so that you’ll glide safely to your
destination or if your parachute is just a backpack and you will crash to the
ground. It is a terrifying decision to make. Someone once told me that you’ll
know you are ready when you want it more than you are afraid of it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And here we are again. . . preparing to jump. I am most
definitely terrified, but I am also confident that my desire for a child I get to
raise is far greater than my fear of what could happen. I’m trying to take the
process in pieces, because the thought of playing out all of the what-if’s is
more than my brain can handle. And so I focus on the first few steps and
getting through the next month. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently read an <a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/01/the-irony-of-standing-still/">article</a> about how the process of trying to conceive is a constant waiting game for a
person with infertility. Obviously, this thought resonated with me. But the
author had a few tricks on how to survive some of this waiting time, and I
figured I would try one out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A 30 day challenge. The author of the article came up with
different 30 day challenges to help pass the waiting times. And so I’ve decided
to take one on myself to help me through the next 30 days. Starting today, I
will commit to one random act of kindness every day for the next 30 days. I’ll
document each one in a journal, and I’ll collect them to share here on the
blog. My hope is that it will help the 30 days pass by much faster, and at the
end, I’ll be further along in my journey while also spreading a little good.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So who is with me? Who wants to join me on my 30 day
challenge and passing a little kindness onto others every day? It always helps
to know you have a group rallying behind you, which we’ve been very fortunate
to have through every step of our journey. I’d love to have others with me on
this 30 day journey too – you can send me some of the acts of kindness you’ve
done that I’ll post here with mine. We can all encourage one another to be more
patient and giving with others, while you help me get through the next 30 days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been pretty open through
my loss and infertility journey by sharing so much on this blog (maybe too open
for some). This next jump, though, I plan to keep private. For this part of my
life right now, it needs to be something that I focus on with my husband. There
is more that goes into a round of IVF than I can possibly explain, and we’re
going to get through those with each other. I’m keeping a written journal
through the process, so maybe I’ll share it someday. But for now, it is a
journey we take privately. We’ll take all of your good thoughts, prayers, baby
dust, whatever you want to send our way, though!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so, as it has a few times over the course of the last
year, the blog changes directions a little. For the next 30 days, it’s all
about Random Acts of Kindness. I hope that you’ll join and help me count down
the next 30 days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZVyqEuKnDMUIc4ltg4fFvX632Yib4RQ6rcxajjty9i0m6eW__A91HeYPtlnCAnS-t7qpM-ShL-X_1qJoWCye-gX46HrsZw60DpxcPGpmlf-1ALLTHGPtonUgbwuXq5wvBkf2b_igvaWt/s1600/battle+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZVyqEuKnDMUIc4ltg4fFvX632Yib4RQ6rcxajjty9i0m6eW__A91HeYPtlnCAnS-t7qpM-ShL-X_1qJoWCye-gX46HrsZw60DpxcPGpmlf-1ALLTHGPtonUgbwuXq5wvBkf2b_igvaWt/s320/battle+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-26035343759348037442013-01-23T19:53:00.000-05:002013-01-23T19:53:03.425-05:00The Grass is Greener
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A while ago, I wrote a <a href="http://www.findthenewnormal.blogspot.com/2012/03/grass-is-probably-purple.html">blog</a> post about how the grass isn’t
always greener on the other side. These days, I’m completely going back on that
idea. Right now, it is impossibly hard to convince me that there aren’t a lot
of people out there with much greener grass than mine.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I know that in some ways, my grass is greener. I have a
pretty amazing and supportive husband who I actually like being married to. I
have a good job, some financial security, and a loving family. Unlike a lot of
people, I really know who my friends are – the people who I know I can count
on, who support me and have my back even when it’s not easy to do. But when it
comes to expanding our family, my grass could not be less green. And it seems
like everyone around me gets to have it so much easier.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I know that I’m not supposed to compare my life to others,
but right now I’m a bit trapped in this comparison dynamic. It’s hard not to
be. I don’t think anyone could argue that our journey to add children to our
family has been incredibly difficult. It seems that we have to fight for it
harder than just about anyone else I know, which is hard enough to take. But
when I sit back and see it come so easily to so many others, it is a very hard
pill for me to swallow.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When something that you’re forced to really truly fight for
comes so easily to people around you, it forces you to ask a lot of very uncomfortable
questions. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Why them and not me? It is always the first on the list of
questions. I have had a lot of times throughout my loss and infertility journey
where I’ve seriously battled with my own self-worth. Every time I think I’m
past it, I see someone else stumble into parenthood, barely even trying to get
there. It’s hard not to start wondering whether you’re just completely unworthy
of the privilege.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Why does it get to be so easy for everyone else? I wouldn’t
wish my struggle on anyone. I would never want anyone to have as much
difficulty as we’ve had in bringing a healthy, living child into this world. At
the same time, I have to admit that it really bothers me when people have it so
easy. Those people who “try” for a month or just wing it to see if it will work
– that’s hard for me to watch unfold. I know that they appreciate their
pregnancy and children, but I don’t think they can really appreciate how easily
it came to them or how much harder it could have been.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Will it ever finally be my turn? We passed from saying “when
we have another child” to “if we have another child” a long time ago. I have to
admit that passing into the world of “if” is something that’s still very hard
for me to accept. </div>
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<br /></div>
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When will life start balancing out a little more? No one
knows more than I do (except maybe Gordon) that life is exceptionally unfair. I
keep waiting for the time when things will even out a little – not a lot, just
a little. And I always seem to get another round of heartache, so you’d think
I’d learn to stop expecting it to happen.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I don’t like comparing my life to others, especially when
they are being handed something that I am desperate for, and I certainly don’t
like asking myself these uncomfortable questions every time it happens. I avoid
it as much as I can, but there is only so much I can do. Sadly, I’m getting
kind of used to it.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455419014308534756.post-41213425221258123882013-01-18T17:30:00.000-05:002013-01-18T17:30:33.556-05:00Remembering to Breathe<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I’ve commented before that a big part of my new normal is
that I have to remember to breathe. Even nearly a year and a half later, there
are still moments where I have to sit and tell myself “just breathe.” Some
days, that seems like the only thing that I can do. Just keep breathing, and
hopefully that horribly difficult moment will pass.</div>
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I haven’t breathed deeply in a very long time. I try, in
those moments where I remind myself to breathe, but I can’t. When I attempt to
take in a deep breath, I can feel something inside of me that stops it short.
It’s like I can feel the wall in my lungs and heart that just won’t let it
happen.</div>
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Yesterday was a big reminder to me in my quest to just
breathe. We had a big doctor’s appointment. I kept calling it our “do or die”
test because it was. This was the test that would determine whether our surgery
in November was successful, and if we could move forward with IVF. If the test
showed the scar tissue and adhesions had returned, it would mean that I was
unable to carry a child. I probably sound dramatic, but it was the big one as far as tests go. We have
come to not expect much in the way of good news from our doctors anymore, so
much to our surprise, we got it. Adhesion free and cleared to continue. </div>
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Every time I think about getting that good news, I exhale
deeply. It happened all day yesterday, and it’s still happening today (I just
did it again as I typed that). Yesterday, I was struck by how odd this deep
exhale felt. It was then that I realized that I’ve been holding my breath for months. It hasn’t
been a conscious act – just the anxiety of not knowing how things would turn out. Yesterday, I breathed a
little lighter and a little fuller. It felt good, but it also felt very
strange.</div>
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I am, once again, very aware of my breathing. I have my deep
exhale in knowing that my dream to carry and bring another child into this
world (one we get to raise, please) is still alive. I still can’t take that
full breath in that I’d like, but I’m making progress. Little by little, the
ability to breathe without telling myself to breathe is coming back.</div>
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But I know not to get too comfortable in this state. There
will be something that will knock the wind out of me again. It doesn’t have to
be more tragedy – it’s as simple as a day when I’m missing my children more
than I know what to do with. That day will come again and again over the course
of my lifetime. And I will have to remind myself to breathe again. But at least
I know I can work my way back.</div>
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When I started writing this blog, the topic of breathing was
on my mind. But as I finish writing the blog now, I realize that it is January
18. One year ago today, I miscarried our second child. It was a very different
experience than losing Vivienne. We got very little time to be hopeful and make
plans for this little one. But this child was just as wanted, loved, and wished for
as any child, and a part of our family. We gave this baby the symbol of a sun, as we'd just taken a vacation to Florida. So it's no coincidence that the sun was shining strongly all day today.As I looked out into the sunshine, I know that it's our Baby Sunshine telling us hello.</div>
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And there’s that deep exhale again, but for a very different
reason.</div>
Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15740221765514338766noreply@blogger.com0