A Little Warning

You know what would be great? If people would give you a little warning before they announce their pregnancies to you after your baby dies. You know, something like “What I’m about to tell you is going to rip your heart out and make you wish you were dead, and I’m only telling you because I’m selfish and inconsiderate and obviously have zero compassion for you at all”. You know, something like that, so you can at least prepare yourself a bit before telling them you never want to speak to them again. That would be nice. 

It's amazing to me how many people say "I know you don't want to hear this but...". Really, if you already know than what are you doing? You think acknowledging it before-hand makes it okay? Really?

Let me explain something to you: the baby I love, the baby I wanted, the baby I carried for 35 weeks: He died. So why do you think I’m ever going to be happy that you’re getting everything that was stolen from me? I won’t be. 

Call me a jerk, call me mean, whatever. You'd understand if your baby died. 

It’s great that you think you’re invincible, that you will magically be the person whose baby won’t have a fluke condition, or die in any one of the thousands of ways babies die every single day. It’s great you think "that only happens to other people" (like me). But guess what? No one it happened to was expecting it either. None of us ever thought for one moment it would be us. Too bad death doesn’t care what you believe. And – I hate to burst your bubble – no amount of you eating well, exercising, seeking medical attention, praying or having a positive attitude can save you from that fate. If death chooses your baby, you’ll be left helpless, just like me. So, sorry, I can’t stand by and pretend to be happy when I know the truth. It can – and does – just end sometimes. And you’ll never be the same again.

For you, it’s all about cute baby clothes, registering for gifts, planning a shower and picking a “super cute and perfect” name. For me, it was nightmarish appointments, panic-attacks, planning a funeral and begging God every second of every day to save my baby’s life, only to have it end in a nightmare of labor, surgery and separation. To live forever with a massive hole in my life and heart.

Maybe it’s because my experience with pregnancy is that it ends in lifelong heartache, maybe it’s because I know I’ll never be blissfully unaware like most woman are during pregnancy, maybe it’s because I refuse to pretend to be happy for your sake while secretly hurting inside. Maybe it’s because my soul screams out in agony at the injustice of it all. Whatever it is, please know: when you tell me you’re pregnant, all you’re doing is adding to my hurt.

So, maybe, just keep it to yourself. Announce it on your blog, your page, your whatever. But when you have that urge to email me, to text me, to call, or message me, just remember that it’s only for your benefit and the only outcome will be me hurting more and removing you from my life.

Honestly, if the worst thing that happens to you during your pregnancy is that you can’t announce it to me, I don’t think you have anything to cry about.

Christmas Without Him, Again

As you've probably noticed, I've fallen behind on writing here. Honestly, sometimes I just can't get it out in the way I want it to be, so I just stay away. A lot has been going on and the words are falling short.

I guess I'll just start with Christmas and go from there in upcoming posts.

Christmas was a mix of emotions. How could it not be?

As Samuel grows older in my mind, our Christmas becomes more empty because he would have been so fun this year. We decided not to put up the tree or do much for decorating. Instead of being fun and festive, decorating has become instead a great deal of work for not much payout (we really don't get much pleasure from holiday things anymore). We both decided we just didn't care that much.

We did put up his tree, and decorated his table.

(My December article for Still Standing Magazine has more about my feelings this Christmas, you can read it here.)

As an early Christmas gift, Bryan got me tickets to The Phantom of the Opera in Minneapolis. I really enjoy going to the theater. There is not much else like it. I was actually looking forward to going. We stayed downtown for a few days and it was a nice time to get away. I'm sure I don't have to even tell you how moving the show was. The voices were outstanding and the set visually stunning. I really had a nice time. (and Bryan even liked it, which is saying a lot!).

The day of the show, we also went out to eat at the Oceanaire with my parents and I can honestly say it was one of the nicest times we've had in a very long time. We ate amazing food, joked and laughed, and remembered Samuel together. It really was a fun night and those are words I don't use lightly anymore. It was a rare treat and we are very thankful to them for that gift.

For the following few days, we just vegged out in the room, walked the skyways and ate at some yummy restaurants. We went back to Masa and  - yep!  - it's just as good as we remembered from last year.

It's funny how accustomed we've become to sadness. Seeing happy families enjoying their holiday together while we walk by broken and empty is just part of our lives now. Avoiding looking at them is just how I operate. The knife that stabs my heart with unanswerable questions of "why not us?" is normal. How very sad.

There are times when I think about our life and I genuinely feel sad for us. I know that might sound weird. But it's like I step outside it for a second and look in and just feel heartbroken for us. For me. There is truly nothing sadder than a family without its baby and there is nothing worse than being a mother without her child. The injustice of seeing another mother about my age, with her son, about Samuel's age, is a pain I simply cannot fully describe. Soul crushing, psyche tormenting, heart wrenching. None of that does it justice. Completely and totally wrong and unfixable. How is this my life?

As the month went on, we just went about life and tried to pretend it wasn't about to be Christmas without him again.

Some very beautiful people send us some very special things to remember Samuel. I just can't tell you how much that makes life easier to bear when people remember him with us. Significantly easier. And we are thankful. I wasn't diligent about taking photos of everything (it really depends on the day) but here are some of the things we received, created or purchased for Samuel.

From The Sacred Seashore

From Becca

From Lacy

From Traci

from The Seashore of Remembrance

from The Seashore of Remembrance

From Tiny Dream Shop

from The Seashore of Remembrance

Our Family <3

from Becca

As I said, this is not everything, and as I am writing this we've already put away all the Christmas things so I can't even take one now to share. Just know, we got a lot of very special gifts that really touched our hearts, including gifts made in his name to Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep and other organizations. We were truly touched by the things people did to help us remember him this Christmas.

Christmas Eve was terrible. Horrible even. I sat alone at home while Bryan went to his family's little gathering. I just cried and cried all night and it took everything in my power to not take down all the things we put up and pretend Christmas was already over. It was bad. I thought of how all the other famililes were all having a joyous night of fun and laughter, gifts and treats, Christmas movies and games and I wished I could disapear. I miss joy. I miss pure celebrating and excitement. It's gone. So I just cried for myself and my baby instead.

Christmas day was just like any other day for the most part. We did exchanges gifts but there's only so excited you can get about things. We both took naps and did our best to just make it through.

Midnight that night was the best thing ever. Finally! It was over! I put away the Christmas things as fast as I could and told myself I didn't have to think about any of it for another year. 

I will always wonder what life could have been if death were not a thief. Can you imagine how wonderful life would be? I can. And I hate death with all of my heart.

I hope Christmas was peaceful for all my friends who were also just trying to cope with the day. I sure wish life were different, for all of us.

As I mentioned before, there's been a lot going on. I'm not sure how to even go into it, so I'll wait until I can do it properly.

I'll just leave you with this, for Samuel <3.