Valentina In the Sky

Cheer with me

2012-02-13T11:42:00.002-06:00

In the last couple of months, my life has taken a different turn. I ditched my 9-5 and switched back to strictly music. : ) Yes, cheer with me!

I have to give credit where credit is due. My fiance Jeremy encouraged me to focus on my talents and live the life I want and deserve. And the most interesting thing happened... I fell back in love with my life. After 18 years of being paid to play the violin, I found myself taking it all for granted. Every time I had a gig, it was all moans and groans getting there. "Ugh, I have a GIG." "Ugh, this music is so BORING." "OMG, do I have to play with HIM? Blahhhh." "Ugh my back hurts, this chair sucks." You get the picture. Somewhere along the line, I forgot that I actually love playing my violin. And I forgot how lucky I am to be able to do that for money.

A couple of weekends ago, I performed an absolutely lovely concert of music with the Laredo Philharmonic Orchestra. We played the overture to Die Fledermaus (Strauss), the Lee Actor Violin Concerto (with the phenomenal Pip Clarke on violin) and Beethoven's beautiful sixth symphony, the Pastorale. I found myself sitting in the orchestra, alongside my friend Nancy (who I've played with since I was probably 20 or so), looking across the room at so many faces that are dear to me... my best friend Daphnee, our principal cellist, our Maestro Brendan Townsend, who I've played under since I was a wee BABY at 16... : ) My dear friend Noelle. And so many other friends. And I thought... my GOD. I am sitting here, playing Beethoven, playing music for a living. It just struck me so profoundly, that I am so, SO very lucky to be able to do what I love. And I can't believe I had forgotten that.

It truly is my dear Jeremy's fault. He's really opened my eyes. His love, his support, his encouragement and his faith in me have helped to reawaken the joy I get from playing music. And it goes far beyond music. Jeremy has faith in me- my intelligence, my capabilities. He truly believes in me. And in turn, I believe in myself. : ) Ahhh corny, I know. But its So. Nice. My confidence is through the roof. My happiness is through the roof.

I would have never, ever thought I would type those words in this blog.

Thank you, darling.

ETA: The most remarkable thing, which I left out, is that I think I stopped believing that I deserved to be happy. That I deserved to be able to do this. I think so many things went wrong for so long- starting with my mom's cancer diagnosis when I was 19. I started thinking my life would just always be shit, that it would always be one thing after another. For THIRTEEN YEARS I have thought that way. But Jeremy has renewed my faith that things CAN and WILL be good. That I DO deserve that. Again... thank you, darling.

Defending the Dead

2012-01-11T14:39:00.000-06:00

It always ticks me off to no end to see a sweet babyloss mama have to defend her grief. A friend of mine posted a memorial photo on facebook today (some kind of artwork with a poem about loss) and a "friend" started lambasting her for feeling sorry for herself. The friend also told her she would never be able to move on having friends like me (babyloss mamas) who tell her its ok to feel sorry for herself. (The woman used the example of a parent dying of cancer, but hey, SHE doesn't feel sorry for herself.)

Blows my mind. Feel sorry for ourselves? First of all, I think we have the right... but even if we DO have the right, I know very very few people who sit around feeling sorry for themselves. The women I know are incredibly strong, incredibly admirable people. People who are true survivors. People who are not afraid to speak of their grief or honor the dead. I think it is incredible to see people unafraid to express themselves. If you don't like it, or you don't want to hear it, guess what? You don't have to. Don't read. Don't listen. Move along. And for gods sake, do it silently, you soul-less bastard. ; )

And on to my second thought- these women, these women who know what it is like to go shopping for clothing for your own baby's funeral, these women who know the heartache of answering the innocent, "do you have kids?" question... they are some of the BEST friends and the BEST people I know. They do not hold me back- they inspire me. They comfort me. They remind me that the world is NOT all horrible, its not all bad luck and shit happens- its a place where I can find those unique friendships. Those women may know me more intimately than most of my longest and closest friends.

I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of seeing people who are minding their own business get harassed, judged, and shunned. And why? Because someone else thinks they know best. Because someone else wants to give their fucking two cents without being asked. Because someone else thinks they have the right to be that insensitive. Oh, and my favorite is when its done "out of love" or "concern."

If that's love, I'll go without, thanks.

Respect

2011-12-27T21:36:00.000-06:00

One of the things I have to remember (or be reminded of!) every few months is the fact that because I choose to open this part of my life to the public, via the internet, I am opening myself up to be judged. My grief, my sorrow- to know it is to know me, intimately. I take a huge risk, putting myself out here like this.

But this is still my place, this is my haven to speak my mind. To work through my feelings. To memorialize my beloved children. Not anyone else's. This is no place to come pick my brain. Its not a place that can answer the questions about who I am or what I am about- its only one side of me. And honestly, I think it is an incredible side, if I may say so. I do believe in my heart that anyone who even owns half of a soul or one ounce of compassion would read my words and see the strength, bravery, hope, and courage behind them. I think this blog is not only a memorial for my Valentina, but a testament to what kind of a person I am. A person with a gigantic, loving heart. A person who's been through the worst thing a parent can experience, but who hasn't lost hope or lost her mind in the process. A person who LOVES, so deeply and genuinely. A person who wants above all to share that love, to grow, and to be happy.

No one has to understand this. I'm not forcing "the internet" to "get it." I only ask for respect. And I can always *hope* that my words will be strong enough to penetrate the walls of judgement.

Another Christmas

2011-12-25T22:58:00.000-06:00

Another Christmas without you, Valentina. And my first without you, Little Bee.

I miss you. I long for the sound of those tiny feet thumping through the house, squeals of delight and the tearing of wrapping paper. It seems so unfair, it IS so unfair that those things never came to pass.

Its easier this year. My life is changing, the seasons keep coming. Jeremy and I are getting married. We are terribly in love. He is incredibly respectful and compassionate about my losses.

I have many things to be grateful for this holiday season. And many more to be hopeful for. : )

Changing of the Seasons

2011-11-08T19:39:00.000-06:00

Fall has finally arrived in Austin. The rain visits semi-regularly (although not enough to make up for the horrendous drought from the summer), the nights and mornings are cool, boots are in fashion. My tights and leggings have made an appearance.

Along with the changing season, my life has undergone many changes. I've met someone who is very very dear to me, someone I would like a future with. He approaches my grieving with fearlessness. (At least he does a good job at hiding it if it does scare him.) He is always ready with kind eyes and open arms and ears when I need him to be. He may not understand my experience, but he knows me (incredibly well, especially in such a short time), and through knowing me, he knows my pain.

It is strange to be a babyloss mom who is grieving a loss alongside a man who has not had a loss. In a way, it keeps me more tethered to the ground... I cannot completely collapse in his presence, at least I don't feel comfortable doing so. He accompanied me to an October 15th candlelight ceremony. We sat in the grass for about an hour and a half, mostly in silence, and he simply held me, kissed my head, and held me some more. I did not lose it- in a way, I felt too self-conscious to completely break down. But he was by my side. The only person on that lawn who never lost a child. But he was by my side, bravely. I am a very lucky woman.

I'm also having a few issues with my medications and emotional state. I think that its a combination of many factors: divorce, a new love, the changing season... passing 18 month since Valentina passed, passing Little Bee's due date... the holidays coming. Its hard to find thanks in a world where you've lost almost everything within less than two years. Its also hard to be excited about Christmastime- the children in their furry Christmas clothes, presents, "baby's 1st Christmas" EVERYTHINGS... I remember last year, going to Target to run an errand... I came across a pink snow globe with pink booties in it that read "Baby's 1st Christmas." I broke down in the store, sobbing, and ran out the door. Crazy lady. But it explains perfectly the despair and heartbreak we all feel at the holidays.

I hear the first year of holidays is always the hardest. I hope that is true... I want this fall and winter season to be filled with hope, with the excitement of my new relationship... I want to actually do something this Christmas other than sit on the cold ground of my daughter and mother's grave and cry. I want to feel thankful this Thanksgiving. For I DO have much to be thankful for... I just need to keep it in sight and in mind.

She's in the Seas

2011-09-13T09:53:00.002-05:00

Tragedy has been a churning ocean for the last few years. Or if you want to get really accurate, the last ten. Waves crashing into me, over and over, knocking me down, filling my mouth with tangy salt water and burning my eyes with salt-water tears. With every swell, I am knocked a little further down, and I am a little more weary.

The seas have settled. The waves of tragedy have receded, calmed to a gentle lapping on the sand, never ending, but not disruptive. I exist in that place, where the sea meets the shore. Where the two worlds collide. Its about time.

I want to lay on the shore, rejoice in the sunlight, feeling the warm sand envelop my body. I want to stretch my arms to the sky and invite its infinite wonders in. I want my heart to burst with the sunrise. I want to experience all that life has in store for me, living my life fearlessly and furiously.

And if I am to leave the beach to explore this grand world, I will take the ocean with me, in a tiny vial, tenderly resting against my heart. Always.

time flies when you're not having fun

2011-09-03T17:26:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a really really long time. I've been avoiding this spot, unfortunately, like the plague.

I was scrolling through my blog feed before I started this post.. the entire feed was littered with tears and baby photos/sonograms. More of the latter. How time flies... this time last year, I had just seen Lady GaGa, I was officially allowed to ttc, I was working on shedding some pounds. We were closer than ever.

This year, I am about 40 lbs lighter, and that's where the good news ends. No ttc, no marriage, nothing but me and these cats. I would have never guessed this would be my life a year ago.

Aside from all of the obvious troubles of being in this place in my life, I feel more alone than ever. The majority of my babyloss girls are still married, with child or with rainbow, with very few exceptions. Life goes on. Grief goes on. Hope goes on... At least that's what I tell myself. I cling to my hope. I also cling to my divorced/single blms. : ) (You ladies know I love you.)

I just feel like a representation of everything that could be wrong in a woman's life. Failed pregnancy, failed marriage. And just like a babyloss mom slinking like a dark cloud of death into a baby shower, my single-ness is a damper on all things babyloss. I mean, what can I offer to babyloss women? I had a rainbow that died, I lost my marriage... I am the perfect example of every babyloss woman's fears. BOOM. In your face. Like the plague.

I do know one thing. I haven't been completely broken down- this one moment of weakness, sadness that I am living in this moment while I write- it will pass. And I will be as strong and resilient as ever. I always am. Its just... confusing. Disorienting.

And its amazing what a difference a year can make. Or... two. September 2009 was my first full month of pregnancy. The happiest month of my life, I would say.

a new chapter

2011-08-12T18:07:00.000-05:00

Today I just realized, really realized, that I will be grieving alone from now on. I mean, Adrian will obviously be grieving, and in that sense, we will always be grieving "together" over our daughter, but I will be living my life and my grief on my own.

When you are married and have a loss, you can lean on each other. You can dry each other's tears, understand the full impact of the death... But when two people orbit away from each other, the grieving slowly becomes your own. And now I carry that burden myself, no leaning.

Its a whole new chapter in my life, and its a whole new chapter in my grief. Its like I've been hobbling along, favoring one leg, because the other is supported. Now I have to stand on my own two feet, after seven years. Not just in grief, but in everything.

I'm Valentina's mommy. We are her parents. We will no doubt occasionally have the need to cry to each other. But now, this is all on my own shoulders. I'm on my own.

tears

2011-08-10T20:59:00.000-05:00

A lot of tears have been shed in the last four days. My roomate just moved in, so I had to clean out her room... it was heartbreaking for several reasons. One- this was supposed to be our nursey for a rainbow baby. For Little Bee. So it was full of Valentina things.. crib, swing, everything. A bag that the funeral home gave us, with a folder of pictures of Valentina that are not retouched. I pulled them out and kissed them. Poor baby, my poor sweet beautiful baby. :\ So yeah, it was tough. I had to decide what to do with most of her things... now that we are divorcing, I have no need to keep them for our future daughter/son. And a divorced woman lugging around her dead baby's diapers and wipes and onesies... its just creepy. BUT- I will be keeping a chest of some of my most treasured things. I gave the rest to my dear friend Valerie who just brought her rainbow baby Scarlett home from the NICU (she was a micro-preemie).

Two: I had to put two bins aside- a his and hers. That was actually MORE depressing somehow... parceling out our lives in such a literal way. There were many tears in the Benavides house yesterday. At least we are on very good terms. We aren't stupid, we aren't foolish. It was time. :\

statistics

2011-08-08T03:10:00.000-05:00

So.. Adrian and I have joined the 90% of babyloss parents who divorce... We are divorcing.. We are divorcing. Its shocking and its also somewhat of a relief. We've both grown so far apart, and we want different things.

One of the most emotionally difficult things is knowing that I will never have another baby who is exactly the full blood of Valentina. I know it sounds weird. But its the truth. Not to say I won't love another baby from another man-- I would absolutely adore and cherish one. Its just an emotional thing.

This is so weird. What a bizarre day. A day I knew would happen, but... I just didn't know today was the day.

A Contrast Study

2011-07-21T13:39:00.001-05:00

Last year, in June, I wrote this blog:

http://valentinainthesky.blogspot.com/2010/06/dont-you-hate-these-things.html

The other evening, Adrian and I were fortunate enough to be invited to another big party. Similar situation, except it wasn't a fundraiser, it was just a big family/friends party. We were invited as guests of a legendary musician and his wife...

The party was at a beautiful house; much nicer than I could ever dream of owning. The kind of house where you shouldn't sit on the furniture in the sitting room, where riding horses and swimming in the backyard could be a daily activity. The kind of party where everyone was good looking and dressed the best summer casual I've seen in a long time. I know those things might not seem like much to someone with the means to have those things, but to me, they were a Big Deal. There were certainly people there who are considered A Big Deal.

The family welcomed us with open arms. Delicious food, incredible drink (I had absinthe for the first time! And in strange ways!), beautiful people all around... but unlike last year, I felt comfortable. I didn't feel the enormous veil of grief blocking myself from the rest of the party. I didn't feel like I was on the verge of tears, sensitive to every word, every perceived action. I just felt good. We were made to feel welcome, and not once (ok maybe once- when we first walked in) did I feel like I didn't belong there, or wasn't welcome.

I was brave. I mingled, spoke to strangers, wandered around, drink in hand. I felt good, felt tipsy and cozy, like you SHOULD feel at a party. I joked around with strangers. I played darts with a rock star. Got in a pretty good party mood, all the while staying well within my comfort zone.

It just amazed me. To think that one year later, I would be able to mingle. I would be able to be social, to go to a fancy people party, to talk to strangers, all without having the fear balled up in my stomach, or the anxiety clawing at my throat. I didn't feel the fight or flight reaction I did one year ago. I didn't feel like a fake, like some kind of morbid blight on the party's happiness. I just felt good, I felt loose and casual.

Its amazing what can happen in a year. Bad and good. It doesn't mean my grieving has ended (it never will). It doesn't mean I'm "all better." It just means I can have a good time. A REALLY good time- finally. : )

I walk the line

2011-07-07T19:38:00.000-05:00

Today is one of those days where I can't stop thinking of Valentina and Bee. And not in the lovely motherly nostalgic way... I mean, yes, I am.. I'll never think of her and NOT think about how sweet and beautiful she was... but today those thoughts are clouded over by the other thoughts. The awful ones, the things I wrote about long ago, many many months ago. I call them my hospital thoughts. But really, they all just boil down to one specific thing: my baby's poor body.

It is a fact of living that when you die, your body physically deteriorates. Its horrible. And its a horrible thought, the thought of a baby... I can't even put the words together anymore.

In the "beginning," I was able to be so raw, so open and bold with my words. I talked about seeing my baby's untouched photos the nurses took, 10 hours after her delivery (33 hours after her death) and I described the feelings I had, the way they looked... I am now unable to do those things. I just can't be "raw" anymore. Its not about working through and confronting the horrible facts of life anymore, its about living my own life and honoring her by being the best person I can be. And if I want to honor her, why should I focus on the gruesome aspects?

But its not a choice. The thoughts just creep in. Thoughts of shopping for a funeral dress, crying in the dressing room at the insanity of the moment, seeing my saggy empty belly in the mirror, falling to the floor. Buying "funeral shoes" because my feet were still so swollen I needed new dress shoes (and comfortable ones, since I had major surgery) and having the salesman ask if we had a boy or a girl... and when I was at the counter checking out, a lady saw me shifting my feet around because they were swollen and hurting and she says, "Ahh, I remember those days." (Because I still looked 5-6 months pregnant- men, the uterus does not suddenly pop back to normal.) Then she asked boy or girl. We just pretended our baby was alive, just so we could hear ONE congratulations.

The funeral doesn't affect me so much for some reason... I think because it was so.. pretty... and an honor to her. So many beautiful flowers, teddy bears.. even her tiny casket... covered in a spray of pink roses... was beautiful. I also think the funeral doesn't affect me so much because I was so completely sick and in shock. (I had an infection and was running a fever of 103 that morning.) I couldn't even cry, riding in the hearse (ok, limo... babies are too small for hearses) with my daughter's casket in it. Adrian and I simply looked out the windows and made idle chit chat. And a few jokes too. The driver must have thought we were insane.

And then the horrible thoughts that creep in at night. Simple words can evoke the images and feelings so easily: Autopsy. Necrosis. Lividity. Headstone. The brand new crib dismantled in the spare bedroom, now a dusty junk yard of unused diapers, full bottles of baby shampoo, toys never touched, and drawers full of clothes never worn.

If you can't tell, I got my period today.

We aren't TTC... and that is ok with me for a while... Its just still incredible to me how these days happen, these thoughts invade... I feel like I am walking a thin line between simple grief and post traumatic stress disorder. How do you know the difference? I guess a therapist or psychologist could diagnose it...

I (we?) are going back to our grief therapist. Its been almost 15 months since Valentina died, almost 4 months since Bee died. And we are absolutely in a different head space than we were a year ago. Or 4 months ago. But the grief doesn't stop, it just morphs into a softer shape. Like a stone in the water (or some stupid shitty metaphor like that). But every now and then, I lay restless at night, with those horrible dark thoughts. I wonder if they will ever stop.

follow me!

2011-06-03T18:32:00.000-05:00

I have a lot of followers on here... but did you know I have another blog? In my other blog, I chronicle my weaknesses, my accomplishments, my "inner struggles" and personal triumphs. I know, lame. And all me me me. But if that doesn't scare you, here it is.

new experiences

2011-06-02T18:27:00.000-05:00

Being a babyloss mom for over a year has given me the impression that I had experienced everything one could. All the questions, all the awkward talks, the awkward moments, getting pregnant with a rainbow, losing the rainbow... all of it ranges from uncomfortable to downright heartbreaking.

But I had a new experience this last weekend. A couple actually.

1- I went with my brother when he got a colonoscopy. I was in the recovery with him and we were all discussing pain. I mentioned how I had recently been in the hospital for a kidney stone. The nurse was like WOW! I hear that hurts a LOT... I said YUP it sure did, worst pain ever. She asked me if I had kids....

This was in front of my brother and sister-in-law. I gave my usual response: *smiles calmly* "I actually had one baby but she was stillborn, so I don't have any living children." The nurse expressed her sympathy and then asked if I experienced labor pains. I told her I did, and that the kidney stone was waaay worse LOL. We laughed about that. It then hit me that my brother and sister in law had never seen someone ask me that question, and they'd never heard me have to answer it. It was a strange moment, an adult moment witnessed by people who see me as little sister. (Today, my brother told me I was an incredible, strong woman... that also was an extremely memorable moment.) I wonder if it is shaping the way they view me? I have experienced... SO many difficult things in the last 14 months, more than I even address here on my blog, PERSONAL things about my personal life... and it has proven to me that I am a survivor. I am stronger than I ever thought I'd be.

2- I spent the weekend with my brother and his family over memorial weekend. We spent one afternoon/evening just swimming, body surfing and relaxing at the beach. Right next to us was a beautiful beautiful sight. It was a little girl, maybe three years old, and she was an exact replica (nod to Elizabeth) of my mind's version of Valentina. She had the same long straight hair I did at that age, and big thick blunt bangs, just like I would have cut for her, and just like my tattoo for her. She LOOKED like my tattoo. Best of all, she was wearing a little hot pink swimsuit with a little frilly skirt on it. Exactly what I would have dressed Valentina in. It both stabbed me in the heart to see her running through the sand, cautiously testing the surf on its edge with her little toes. But I also couldn't stop staring at her in wonder... like she was this beautiful vision that was being gifted to me, a glipse of the parallel universe with a living, breathing, sweet Valentina.

I have had that experience before, written here about it. The time we saw the teenage girl at the grocery store who looked like Valentina as a teenager- my doe shaped eyes, Adrian's nose, my lips... very respectful and intelligent. Very insistent on getting us to smile (we had been arguing before we got to the register). The kind of teenager I would hope to have. Kind, beautiful, empathetic, smart.

Life has been hard. I mean- duh. But lately, its been hard. I work hard to get into shape, to be out in nature, the ocean, hiking and climbing. And of course I have discovered my love for kayaking. Those are all ways for me to prove to myself, and prove that I am strong, growing stronger, growing more independent and truly getting to the core of myself and my values. This is all a huge part of my healing process. I don't know where life is going to take me. I don't know what is around the corner, if I will have more children, so many things. But I do know that I am finally beginning to heal and go in the right direction. And... I know my medication has saved my life. : ) It has enabled me to crush the walls that have enslaved me for years and muster up the motivation, conviction, and courage I was lacking.

Valentina, mommy misses you so damn much. But I feel you all around me. My little angel bee. And I know you're proud.

sigh

2011-05-27T18:47:00.001-05:00

Rainbows and Dark Skies

2011-05-25T19:24:00.000-05:00

So many beautiful rainbows are being born. So many customers call in with Valentina's birthday, with Bee's due date... Its so hard not to grab every person in the street and tell them my story, to find a connection. I think this is because... maybe I am using my empathy and compassion skills on others so that they may return it to me. :( That thought brings tears to my eyes. It implies that maybe I am NOT normally healing and getting used to my life- maybe I am using hiking, mentoring, emoting to strangers, making efforts to spread love, caring, and empathy to everyone as my way of coping with the fact that my daughter is dead and I have no idea where my future is headed. Will I ever be as healthy as I want? Will I ever have a living baby? A normal pregnancy? Will I ever feel the sense of security, comfort, and normality that I felt before she died?

I was so proud of being this person I am now, so proud of my accomplishes, proud of my work, my growing physical strength and agility (climbing rocks is hard!), my ability to connect with others and empathize with clients, family, friends and strangers... and now I am feeling like its just a front, just a search for some "new me." Maybe it IS just a new me. I was convinced until today that it WAS a new me. Now I don't know WHAT to think, I am questioning who I am, what I stand for, everything. Just a massive reevalution.

I guess I could only go on being a saint for so long.

I love what you've done to me.

2011-05-20T14:03:00.000-05:00

I've been neglecting my blog.. and my girl. Its been rough, our computer situation at home has been wonky- my husband has been transporting his computer around Austin and the whole state for work in the last month or so- and meanwhile, my laptop is totally wonky- it dies either 30 seconds after its started, or it dies after 15 minutes. :( BOO. Anyway, so I've been pretty absent... not because I am keeping a distance from the world of babyloss, but because I am computerless and completely busy.

In the last two months of taking medication and becoming a devoted hiker/climber, I've lost a lot of weight and gained a lot of confidence. There is something incredibly empowering about climbing to the top of some huge hill or rock formation and not falling off and dying lol.

Adrian compared it to our situation with grieving/life process. His basic points are that life (hiking/climbing) is hard. But you take it on anyway, every day, through the spiny bushes, through the slippery rocks, sliding down hills on your shins/ass/arms... you bruise yourself up like hell climbing. Especially when you fall hard. My body is littered with bruises and scratches (enough that when I had that kidney stone last week, they brought a social worker in to make sure Adrian isn't beating me LOLOL), but regardless of the pain, the aches, the exhaustion... you pick yourself up, you keep going. You put salve on your wounds and you keep on moving.

With every climb, every tumble where I don't kill myself, I am filled with even more pride and determination. And in grief, with every suicidal moment, with every panic attack, every tough moment... I live it, I pick myself up from it, and I keep going... every day.. I keep going.

The other day I went on a four hour solo hike/climb (maybe not the safest, but at least it was dry! Unlike this morning when all the algae covered rocks made us bust our asses over and over.) and I had this incredible series of events. First, I saw this woman, heavier than me, walking her dog. About 50 yards away were two college age hotties in bikinis. I could practically touch the uncomfortableness in the air. Even I felt uncomfortable. But I was drawn to this woman. I walked over to her and we began talking about the creek, hiking, walking, weight problems... I felt really good about our conversation. About 1.5 later, I bumped into her again! This time we really stopped and talked about our life experiences and what led us to this point we are at today- and I found out this woman was a babyloss mother. We shared stories, we cried, we hugged, and I gave her one of my "iamtheface.org" bracelets. I loved the connection we had and I hope she can find the support she needs and the strength and courage to accomplish her goals.

I feel like I am finally entering the place where Valentina and Bee have TRULY moved me into a life of service for other people. It reflects in my friendships, my relationships with family, my marriage, my WORK even... and random encounters with bruised souls. And every bit of it makes me stronger, more empowered, and a step closer to healing.

Happy Mothers Day

2011-05-08T08:36:00.001-05:00

Last Year, This Year, Part 3, April 27th.

2011-04-27T22:33:00.001-05:00

Last Year

The clock in the OR read 12:00AM. I was terrified. They had to transport me from the bed to the operating table, which felt really.. laborious. I laid on the table and they set up the blue cover so no one (me, Adrian) could actually see the surgery. They had already changed my medication from the epidural to the spinal block or whatever they do for surgery to make you not feel a thing. The medication made me shiver uncontrollably. They made me spread my arms out to the side, like Jesus on the cross or something, and Adrian came in. He grabbed my left hand, while the anesthesiologist grabbed my right arm. I was shaking so badly, she had to hold my arm down to get proper blood pressure readings.

Once the surgery started I asked Adrian to talk to me, to make me smile and not be afraid. Adrian began talking to me about New Orleans, and how much we love it. He said we would go to Cafe du Monde. He promised we would go back after everything was over. (We did.) Most of all, he held my arm and tried to rub it and warm me and keep me from shaking.

I could feel a pressure as they pulled Valentina out of me. Then I saw them go back in the room, I assume to clean her up and weigh and measure her. They swaddled her up and put her little hat on and handed her to Adrian. "She's so beautiful." he said. "Bring her to me, I want to see her." I replied. He gently bent down over me and put her little face by mine. She was SO beautiful, so perfect. She had her daddy's little nose. She looked pink and like she was only sleeping. She was born at 12:24am on April 27th.

After that, they wheeled me off to the recovery room, where I drifted in and out of sleep for two hours. They brought Valentina in the room in a little bed and Adrian sat with her and held her. I was hooked up to monitors and every time I started to fall asleep, an alarm would go off saying my breathing was shallow. It freaked me out and I would wake and fight to wake every time. Eventually, they let Jocelyn and Mike come in to see us. Jocelyn rubbed my right shoulder, I had a lot of pain in it from being furiously held down in surgery. It was so comforting. She helped me eat ice chips. She left and Mike came in to say goodbye. (at this point, it was past 2am).

Around 3ish I felt ok enough to be taken back to our room. They brought Valentina to us and we held her and kissed her, told her about us, until about 6am, when they asked us if we wanted her to stay or go. At this point, I could see that her sweet body was starting to deteriorate. We let her go. We never saw her again.

They offered to put us in a recovery room on a different floor, but we wanted to stay in L&D. We figured they would handle us best. They wheeled us down the hall to the "mother and baby" rooms. Somewhere close, I could hear a baby crying. As we entered the room, I noticed there was a small sign taped to the door that was a leaf floating in the water with a water drop on it. I didn't know at the time, but that was a signal for all nurses, doctors and personnel to know that we had lost our baby. The nurses came in and pushed hard on my belly, and I bled and bled on the bed moaning until they were done. We finally slept, until maybe 10am when our families arrived. They were very quiet, letting us rest.

The rest of the day was a blur. A blur of pain medication, announcing on Facebook that our daughter was stillborn, a blur of all kinds of meds and changes to my IV. A blur of guests coming in and out of the room, visitors. I don't even remember half of them. I do remember our friends coming in with their three week old baby and a nurse frantically chasing after them to kick them out, but we said it was ok. I remember my tall and handsome friend Anthony coming to see me, and then my lawyer friend coming right after and me telling her, "Isn't he SO handsome? He is such a good guy. He plays the violin! A big guy like that!" I remember friends bringing us Chinese food. I remember my nephews hugging me carefully as to not hurt my incision. I remember Adrian's parents going to Target to get him pjs and shirts and slippers to wear. I remember them taking his car in to get some work done- maybe new tires? Everyone was trying to help, in some way.

We got so many flowers. Phone calls, text messages. Even one of my ex-boyfriends called me and told me how sad he was for us, and how he would always be there for me. (Roughly six months later, he defriended me on Facebook and has never written me back when I begged to know why.) We got an outpouring of love on Facebook, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Our "birth" announcement literally had hundreds of sympathy comments. My wall was overflowing with outpouring of love and deep sadness.

Everything else was a blur.

This Year

We slept in until about 9:45am. We rolled over, snuggled each other and I said, "Today is the big day." We sighed. And then we talked about how ok we felt compared to Monday, the anniversary of her death.

Adrian and I struck up a bargain- we could go hiking as long as we went to Jim's (local diner) for breakfast. I showered and we went to eat. As we walked in, as usual, the restaurant was filled with the 60 and older crowd. I saw one lady looking at my arm tattoos and blue hair and shake her head. I stared her down, thinking, "Don't fuck with me today- not with my baby." Not 30 seconds later, we were seated and our waitress stared at my tattoo of Valentina and said how beautiful it was. Balance.

After breakfast, we texted some friends to see if they wanted to join us hiking. No one was in, so we went alone. We hiked more than we ever had; up a steep rocky/dirt filled path, and then back down and even more dirt-filled path (anyone who hikes knows how scary it is- that how I crashed into the trees down the hill yesterday). Somehow, I made it- no falls. We walked further, to the swimming hole, which was terribly dry in this Texas drought. We walked further past, until an hour had gone by. We turned around and walked back. I told Adrian, "I know this is cliche but I feel like I see her in every flower, in every butterfly." He said, "That's what she is a part of now." I walked the path, in the wind, and my eyes teared up. "I miss her so much." I said in a shaky voice. "I miss her too." We held hands tightly.

After the hike, we went home and I napped while Adrian worked on:

Another Space Song [Failure cover] by Adrian Benavides

I got up at 6pm and showered and prepared to teach a student. We had a great lesson. Afterwords, things suddenly slowed down. I texted my friends again, asking what was goin on. They all had plans. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness. Adrian finished his song and then blamed himself for us not going out, because it was late. I knew that was bullshit, I was the one encouraging him to finish it and put it out there.

And here we are. Its getting late, I am filled with sadness and longing. I know that her "special days" have come to an end, and I fear that she will truly be forgotten now. Or that anything I express beyond this point will be regarded as freakish and I will be considered unwell.

I do feel like I am in a better place, overall. I am returning to being the athletic person I was before Valentina, and my mind feels chemically stabilized. I am more in love with my husband than ever, and we have reached a level of closeness I never thought possible. I think that it is ok for me to live both lives simultaneously- grieving my daughter's death, the absence of her physical presence in my life, and then just LIVING my life, fully. She has taught me the fragility of life, the chaos and randomness of the world and "fate" in general. She has opened my heart bigger and my spectrum of love has expanded widely. I know she has made me a better person, a person who wants to celebrate her tiny life by living a good life with her in my heart.

Last Year, This Year Part 2, April 26th.

2011-04-26T23:19:00.000-05:00

Last Year

After all calls were completed, Adrian and I talked. We were about to undergo the hardest thing we could imagine- laboring to have a dead baby. We just needed to be strong through this- we could lose our shit later. But for now, we had to just power through it.

The nurses came in and hooked up my IV. They told me it was time to start the induction. I had no idea how long it would take... I'd never had a baby before. Or an induction. They inserted cytotec vaginally (ironically, the same way they helped me "labor" with Little Bee). They told me they would do that every four hours until labor started. It was 2am.

They folded out a couch for Adrian to sleep on. It was big enough for both of us. I asked the nurses if I could sleep on the couch with him... they said yes, as long as I took my IV pole with me. We laid down together, held each other, and cried. He held my belly. Somehow, we eventually managed to drift off to sleep.

At 6am, I awoke to go to the bathroom. Adrian helped me out of bed and to the bathroom. (Remember, I had severe SPD and could barely walk without terrible pain.) I went to the bathroom, and after I was done, I looked in the toilet... I had lost my plug. There was mucus and blood in the toilet from the mucus plug coming out. Normally, this is kind of a joyous occasion for pregnant women- it is a sign of the baby coming. I came out of the bathroom, dragging my IV pole back to the bed. I told Adrian, "I just lost my mucus plug." Then, as I stood there telling him, my water broke. Just like the movies, it all came out in a gush, all over the floor. Again, this is normally exciting. But I had done my research, taken my classes. I could tell there was meconium in the water. (My baby had released her bowels in the womb... very dangerous... for a living baby. Very common when you die too.) We called the nurses, they helped clean me up, clean up the floor. They helped me into bed and inserted one more dose of cytotec to get the ball rolling. I fell asleep.

I woke up maybe an hour later, with intense cramping. I was in labor, and Valentina was "sunny side up"- meaning her skull was facing my back, otherwise known as "back labor," which is very painful. The nurses came in and told me whatever I wanted, as soon as I wanted, was ok- they just wanted me to be comfortable, and they didn't have to worry about endangering Valentina anymore.

So I asked for pain medication. They put fentanyl in my IV, a strong pain medication. I slept for about two hours, woke, spent two hours having terrible contractions, then slept for two more, etc. Sometime in that cycle, our families got there. They hugged us, loved on us, talked quietly while I slept. Around noon, I just couldn't take the pain. I was in so much pain, the fentanyl was doing nothing. I finally asked for the epidural. They asked everyone to leave the room, Adrian included. They called in the anesthesiologist and he prepped me for the epidural. It is supposed to be a very scary, painful, and dangerous procedure, having that long needle poked through your spine and a tiny drip put inside of you. (I think that's how they do it? Details are fuzzy.) A nurse stood in front of me and held my hands, told me to squeeze them when it hurt. It barely hurt. The only thing that hurt was the shot they gave to numb the area. The medicine coursing through my body felt weird- felt cold and almost tingly. Soon, I felt much much better.

My family and husband came back in. The rest of the day was a blur. I labored, mostly painlessly. Whenever the pain would get too strong, I would push the button on the IV and the epidural would shoot more meds in. I couldn't feel anything from the waist down, I couldn't move my legs, but I felt generally ok. Oh, they also put a catheter in, so I wouldn't have to leave the bed.

Our families sat in the room, making small talk, telling stories, we even laughed and joked around. I think at some point, Mike came and brought our "hospital bag"- minus all the baby things. I labored and labored. The nurses would come check every hour to see my progress, which was slow. When I got to about 5 cm, they told me it usually goes very fast after that. For me, that was not the case. I got to maybe 6cm and stopped. Eventually, our families left around 9pm, it had been an exhausting day. They told us to call when I was about to have the baby. Around that time, our best friends Mike and Jocelyn showed up. They sat with us, cried with us. Held our hands. I'd never seen Mike cry before.

My body was not cooperating. I was stalled at 6cm. Finally, around 11pm, they said that my cervix was swelling and that the OB on call and my regular OB had talked and decided it was best to have a c-section. I was terrified. Adrian was even more terrified- but he tried his best not to show it. Our friends promised to stay until it was done. We called our families, and told them to just stay in bed. (They sounded tired.) They promised to come in the morning.

They came and brought Adrian his "bunny suit"- the clothes he would wear in the OR, the little hat and little paper shoes. He looked so cute and funny- he started dancing for me. : ) Being silly and making me laugh. I love that man with all my heart.

Finally, the nurses came in and said it was time to go to the OR. Our friends hugged and kissed us one by one... I will never forget that Mike kissed my belly, kissed Valentina goodbye. They left the room.

The nurses wheeled me down the hall, Adrian following. I just stared at the ceiling, looking and the acoustical tile and the florescent lights. We turned and I saw the OR metal doors open. Adrian came in after me, and they made him wait in a side room while they took me into the OR to prep me. When they wheeled me in, the clock on the wall, with big red numbers glowing, said 12:00am. It was officially April 27th.

This Year

I "slept in" until about 830am. Got up, checked Facebook, checked email. Read comments. After a while, I went back into the bedroom and snuggled Adrian. We were ok. Not great, but ok. We eventually got out of bed. I convinced him to go hiking with me. We went on our usual sleep and scary orienteering-style hike. I powered through it, leading the way. I was surprised when we got to the summit. I didn't feel half bad. I felt like I was getting stronger, more agile.

We decided to go down the hill the tricky (dangerous scary) way. Slips and falls waiting around every corner. I fell once, grabbing a small tree branch and literally spinning myself around and grabbing a different tree, like some crazy ninja move, my knees bent and my shoes dug firmly in the ground. "Holy shit!" my husband exclaimed. "That was AWESOME!" I grinned and showed him the new scratches on my leg. I wear those bruises and scratches like badges of honor.

The second time I fell was much scarier.. I slipped off the trail, down a steep incline, and no matter what I grabbed to slow my fall, it broke. I ended up falling backwards down the side of the hill, slipping and sliding on nothing but leaves (no traction) and ended up crashing into a tree laying on my back. My husband freaked out, thinking I was severely hurt or something like it. "I'm ok!" I yelled. "I just.. don't know how to get up!!" He offered his hand to me, and I started to take it and then said, "I need to do this myself! I want to get up on my own!" Somehow, I managed to do that. When I stood back on the trail, brushing myself off, I saw that I had a huge gash on the underside of my right arm, like four giant claws had scratched my arm open. I was openly bleeding. I raised my arms and pumped my fists in the air with triumph. Adrian looked at me like I was insane. "Honey, your BLEEDING!" "I know!" I said. "I am fucking awesome!" LOL.

We made our way back down the hill without further incident and went home. Had lunch, relaxed and watched some tv. We decided to take a nap. Adrian had gotten upset again, thinking about how on this day last year, I was laboring all day, just waiting. Just being strong. I fell asleep quickly. Eventually, Adrian got up I think, and went to the living room. He packed up his gear, kissed me goodbye and went off to his gig. I checked Facebook. I went back to sleep.

Eventually I woke at 6pm when Jocelyn called me. We talked a lot about my day, my video, and last year and how it was all so unfair. She watched my original youtube video from October that was a tribute to Valentina, from conception to her photos after she was delivered. She was so deeply moved.

I got out of bed after that and watched some TV. I eventually decided I would go for my nightly run, when it got dark. I got into my clothes, set up my runkeeper (iPhone app I was trying for the first time) and went off into the streets. I ran for 40 minutes nonstop. At some point, I tripped in the dark and fell, like really fell- scraped up arms, knees, landed on my shoulder. I thought for SURE my beat up phone had finally breathed its last breath- but no, it was still playing Otto Von Shirach in my earbuds, as I lay sprawled on the sidewalk. I got up quickly and kept running. The runkeeper said I ran 2 miles, it felt like much longer. It may have been; the GPS signal was "fair." The damn thing said I burned 197 calories or something- bullshit! I am morbidly obese and I just ran for 40 minutes straight. I know my body, I know my calculations after spending 8 months monitoring. I must have burned at LEAST 500-600 calories.

Anyhow. : ) And here I am. At home. This very moment, last year, I was being prepped for surgery. This year, I am sitting on the couch in our new home, candles lit for our sweet baby, cat sleeping next to me. And I don't feel terribly horrible. I don't feel terribly hopeless. I am deeply sad that I do not have a one year old sleeping in my arms (or getting into everything) but... I accept it. Painfully, regretfully, hopelessly, I accept it.

Last Year, This Year Part 1, April 25th.

2011-04-26T09:54:00.000-05:00

Last Year

Around this very time last year, my husband and I were getting checked into a room at Seton Medical Center's Labor and Delivery wing.

The thing is, sometime around 4-6pm, I felt Valentina move for the last time. It wasn't until we got home about 8:30pm that I started to worry. Valentina was an active baby, always kicking and pushing on my ribs. Adrian made some pasta, while I drank a Coke. I ate, nothing. I drank two glasses of ice water, nothing. Finally, I looked at Adrian tearfully and said, "I know this is probably stupid, but get the peanut machine (the doppler)." I sat up. Adrian moved it all over my belly while I poked and prodded. Nothing. 45 minutes had passed... they always say to wait an hour after trying those things when you notice no movement. We called the MedLink line (after hours answer service) and the obstetrician on call called us back immediately. I told her everything we did. She said sometimes babies just don't move, but to come right in.

In the car ride, all the way up Mopac, we were silent. We held hands. I stared at the white stripes on the road and thought, "No no no no no not us not me no no please no." (Adrian told me later that all he could think was "If this baby dies, Annette will kill herself. She just will.")

I remember going up the elevator. A man was looking at pictures on his digital camera, he obviously was a proud new father. We looked at the floor. I remember walking past the nurses station on my way to my room- I couldn't look at them. They were silent as I walked by. I was 9 months pregnant and having no movement... I was not the only one in that wing who was afraid.

I was set up in L&D, strapped to monitors. A nurse came in with the doppler they strap on you. She rubbed it on my belly, listening for a heartbeat. There was nothing. She tried for maybe 5-10 minutes, said the baby was hiding and that she would bring in a nurse who was better at finding hiding babies. The next nurse came in. The same story. A third nurse came in, saying she was the Queen of Finding Heartbeats. Nothing. No sound on the monitor. I remembered the times I was in the birthing rooms with my sister in law, and how she was strapped in that same monitor, and the sound of those precious heartbeats were so loud and clear. They called for the obstetrician to come in with the sonogram machine.

The doctor sat to the right of me, the monitor slighty facing a little more towards her. Adrian sat to my left squeezing my hand. He was able to see the screen. I was unable to watch. For what seemed like eternity, the doctor rubbed the wand all over my belly. She stopped on one part for a very long time. Adrian squeezed my hand tighter. I was literally holding my breath, thinking, "Oh God, no. It can't be." I felt the doctor's leg relax against mine, and saw her entire body just kind of... sighing. She turns to us and says, very tenderly and seriously, "There is no heartbeat. Your baby did not make it."

I looked up at Adrian with tears in my eyes. "How can this be?" I choked out. He grabbed me and said, "This is NOT your fault. I love you." We started crying. The doctor let us cry for a while and then said, "We need to induce you for labor." "WHAT?" I cried. "I can't just have a c-section?" "No," she said gently. "At this point, it is medically safer for you to try and have a vaginal birth. I cannot ethically let you just have a c-section." I turned to Adrian, looking at him in shock. "Oh my God... I still have to deliver this baby." She left the room to give us privacy for a while. We sat together. We talked, although I don't remember exactly what about. Disbelief. How could this happen to us? This happens to OTHER people, not to me. I did everything right! This was not my fault.

Eventually, we decided it was time to call the parents. I called my father first. He woke up, sounding groggy. It was around 1am. "Are you in labor? Are you having the baby?" He sounded sleepy but excited. "No, daddy... The baby didn't make it." "WHAT?" he said. "The baby is gone, her heart just stopped beating, she died." "Oh my God..." my dad said slowly, horror and sadness in his voice. "I'm so sorry baby." We made plans for him to come up early in the morning to the hospital. (He lives about an hour and a half away.

Then I called my brother. I woke him up too. "What's up??" he said. "Are you in labor?" "No." I repeated the things I said to my father. "Oh no... oh my God... oh no... I'm so sorry, baby." I could hear his wife in the background asking what was going on. He took the phone aside and told her, "The baby is gone... the baby died." I could hear her start to cry in the background. She got on the phone. We cried together. She told me she loved me, and they would drive up tomorrow. (They live three and a half hours away.) My brother said he was so sorry and that he loved me.

I called my best friends Jocelyn and Daphnee. They had identical reactions. Answered the phone by saying "Are you in labor? OH my GOD! Are you having the baby?!" I told them know. Told them the same words, the words I was already getting used to saying. They immediately said oh my god, and started crying, bawling on the phone. "I know." I said, "How can this happen? Why did this happen to us?" They cried and cried and said how sorry they were, and how much they loved us. Jocelyn promised to come the next night after work.

Adrian called his parents. His best friend Mike. Same scenario... Crying, disbelief. Plans to come see us. His parents promised to come early, Mike promised to come by I believe on his lunch break? Adrian and I looked at each other with horror and disbelief. "I still have to labor... I have to deliver the baby."

*************

This Year

I posted a memorial video featuring many of my babyloss friends I have made in the last year. (View in my last post.) Posted it on Facebook, on livejournal, on Blogger. Then I went back to bed. Adrian had to leave to go work on a recording gig. We need the money. I slept most of the day, only waking up when I got a text message, phone call, or a delivery guy bringing beautiful flowers to us. It was eerily similar to last year, post-delivery. I would periodically check Facebook. The outpouring of support was... stunning. And comforting. I posted some beautiful music that fit my mood. Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto, 2nd movement. It was the piece I walked down the aisle in our wedding to. Joaquin Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez, second movement. He himself had a stillbirth with his first child. The movement was about that. But mostly, I slept.

I finally woke up around 6:30ish and decided I needed to do something to get myself out of the dark place I was going to. Earlier, during a dinner break from working on our project the night before, we started watching David Fincher's "The Game," one of my favorite movies of all time. As a friend put it, "That Michael Douglass mindfuck movie?" We stopped the movie the night before to get back to work, and set it to record.

So when I woke up, I decided to finish watching The Game. Its an incredible movie, if you haven't seen it... I don't want to ruin anything but the ending is classic. I let the credits play out (good song) and decided what I needed was a run. It was about 8pm and almost dark out. I like to run in the dark. I put my clothes on, noticing how my body was starting to "trim up." (I've lost 21 lbs since losing Little Bee and starting medication.) I ran for 30 minutes, the fastest I have run since before I was pregnant with Valentina. And it felt so good. I felt strong. I felt courageous, empowered. Most of all, I felt Valentina's wings pushing me along, faster and faster.

I got home and talked to Valentina. Told her how much I loved her and missed her. I cried, a lot. Then I wiped my tears and changed clothes. Facebooked a while. I started this blog entry. A friend stopped by, then Adrian got home. We all three chatted a while.. finally retired to the bedroom, where I surfed the Facebook some more and then laid down to sleep while Adrian watched the rest of The Game. I fell asleep easily. I would say... almost contentedly.

*****

(This should have been posted yesterday, April 25th.)

One Year

2011-04-25T07:59:00.002-05:00

one year ago today, I heard the most horrible words a mother can hear: "there is no heartbeat... your baby did not make it." It was the last day I felt her move. It was the day she died. In the last year, I was suffered greatly- but I have also learned that its ok to have fun, its ok to smile. This is my tribute to her and the beautiful things she has taught me. (and yes, I'm singing and playing violin) : )

please please share

2011-04-09T11:26:00.000-05:00

Biggest Loser Audition - Annette Benavides from Annette Benavides on Vimeo.

PLEASE PLEASE ladies... watch my video and PLEASE consider sharing it on your blogs... about half way through, I discuss my losses.

the link is: http://www.vimeo.com/annettebiggestloser/audition

I have gone nuts.

2011-04-06T23:19:00.001-05:00

Apparently I have lost my shit.. I posted an audition tape for Biggest Loser... and posted it online where anyone in the world can see it. It literally had 375 views in the last two hours. In the video, I tell basically my lifetime struggles with weight, and my experiences getting pregnant and then losing V... and then Little Bee.

PLEASE PLEASE share my video with others, if its on FB, if its via email, your blog... anything. I want my story to get out- the more lives we can touch, the more woman we can give courage to and tell "Do not be afraid to tell your story," the better.

Biggest Loser Audition - Annette Benavides from Annette Benavides on Vimeo.

Eleven

2011-03-27T14:13:00.002-05:00

Eleven months since we lost you, V. And one more loss under my belt. Little Bee was supposed to be born on Eleven One Eleven. Eleven is supposed to be a lucky number.

Today feels like the unluckiest day of my life. Well, the third unluckiest.

I just want to feel numb, or sedated, or medicated. This could be a problem soon.

You Just Don't Talk About Those Things

2011-03-22T11:32:00.000-05:00

Warning: graphic images of death.

I might be an over-sharer. I tend to be extremely honest and open about whatever situation I am in. Right now, I am a grieving mother, still grieving the death of my firstborn child, Valentina. I held that baby in my arms, with no heartbeat, with no blood rushing through her veins. Instead, it pooled in her body, causing discoloration and lividity. My beautiful perfect baby girl was dead in my arms, and her body was wasting away. And I had only precious minutes to see her as she should have been- beautiful and pink and perfect.

I often lay awake at night thinking about the awful details of her physical state, and the state it was in long after she left us. When you're a mother to a dead baby, you do that. It haunts you. Its a nightmare that will stay with me forever.

And now I have a new nightmare. This one includes my second baby being kept for safekeeping in a ziplock bag next to the meat, about to be taken away from us for testing. Granted, this baby is not as formed as our first, nowhere near as baby-like. But its still ours, who we made and who was loved, and now we have to put him in a paper sack (so we don't scare the pregnant ladies in the waiting room with our child-in-a-ziplock) and say goodbye.

These things shouldn't be talked about right? Rather, they should be shoved down, shoved deep down inside, inside my guts, deep down in the dark where no one can see them and maybe they will be forgotten. BULLSHIT. You know what those thoughts do there? They sit and they fester and they grow, until their tiny sharp tendrils climb all over my insides and infect every part of me. THAT is when Crazy Dead Baby Lady happens, the shrouded grim creature rocking in the corner, a mind made of swiss cheese, crying out for her dead babies.

I have to face these horrors head on. I have to look the nightmare in the eye and call it for what it is.

Its not for the weak. Its not for the sensitive. I'll lose friends again, it always happens. Some people can't accept my way of coping. Some people would rather tag me as Crazy and then shut me out. Some people would rather shake their heads in shame and tsk tsk and then pat themselves on the back for being so together, so STRONG to let go of their crazy friend.

Those people are chicken shits. Those people live their OWN lives in fear. They are afraid to confront death, to confront the REAL horrors of life in the face. They would rather sweep it under the rug and "feel better" about the whole thing. I think these people even delude themselves that they are doing "the right thing."

My life may be filled with nightmares, it may be gruesome and horrible... but the pendulum swings both ways, folks. For every terrifying image I have burned in my mind, I have one hundred other moments of real love and laughter, true friendship. And those keep the mental demons away.

Don't Cry, Baby.

2011-03-20T17:41:00.002-05:00

Our second baby has joined Valentina.

When times are THIS tough, when my heart is THIS broken... I have two options:

- Collapse. Forever.

- or two:

The love I have in my heart, thanks to my babies, thanks to all of the beautiful loving people I have met on this journey... that is where I get my strength to continue to smile.

The Second Baby

2011-03-17T17:02:00.002-05:00

For those who wish to follow the progress of Valentina's little sister or brother, I have a new blog up for Little Bee: Any Bird That Dares To Fly.

Frozen

2011-03-15T20:45:00.002-05:00

Today, for the first time ever, it hit me that if Valentina had lived, if those horrible words had never been spoken ("there is no heartbeat"), she would be walking today. That FLOORED me.

I have many friends via Livejournal, another blogging site, that had babies around the same time I had Valentina. I have seen their babies from the start, from their little red, squishy-faced first photos, to photos and videos of first smiles, first laughs, first steps. Somehow, I managed to go 10 and a half months without really wondering what it would be like to do that with my own daughter. Amazing... is my heart so afraid to imagine that it stops the brain from filling in those fantasy blanks? Apparently, my grief froze Valentina in time... which, really, is the way it happened, when her heart stopped. She really will forever be 38 weeks and 5 days.

And now I am starting over. Instead of capturing my own videos of an infant crashing into the table (oops), I am capturing images of another new little person. Instead of sharing my parenting wisdom with fellow moms, I am being instructed (like a pregnancy noob) on what not to eat and why vaccines are B A D and by the way, you're not dyeing your hair right?

This is so disorienting. Parenting one baby frozen in time and preparing for another, starting over from scratch.

Check yourself...

2011-03-13T15:27:00.002-05:00

Every now and then in my grief journey, I wake up one day and realize that "its happening again"- I am expecting the world to behave in ways that would be perfect. I want friends to always have the right words, the quickest response time, and to 100% fulfill my needs. I want everyone to love me and respect me and like me and think absolutely NOTHING bad about me.

But as we know, that is NEVER going to happen. Even among people I consider my "sisters" or "brothers" in grief, there will always be differences, conflicts. And although we all have one very important thing in common, there are many MANY ways we differ.

My mantra for the day:
DO NOT RELY ON OTHERS FOR YOUR HAPPINESS.
DO NOT RELY ON OTHERS FOR YOUR SELF WORTH.

Nothing in particular, and no one in particular set me off. Just another case of me suddenly realizing I am very unhappy because I am spending all of my efforts on being liked and being everyone's best friend- and that is an impossible feat to accomplish.

Sure, I want everyone to like me. I want everyone to think the world of me. To be there for me. To support me, no matter what. But the truth is... its not going to happen, and the sooner I can accept that and be grateful for the ones who stand by, who continue to love, who continue to care and support... the better off I will be.

2nd Verse, NOT the Same as the First....

2011-03-09T14:12:00.002-06:00

First of all, I need to say- I will not be chronicling my 2nd pregnancy on this blog- I feel like this is Valentina's place, and although their lives are forever linked, this really is her place.

That having been said, there will be overlaps... like today. Today was our first ultrasound for baby #2... I won't go into the details that don't pertain to V, but there was a LOT going on in this little mind of mine...

Sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by those big pregnant bellies... it is STILL hard. Seeing how carefree those women look, not a thing in the world bothering them but maybe swollen ankles or a stiff lower back... I was so jealous. I sat there, tearing up, but refusing to let my tears fall, watching them through narrowed eyes. "They have NO idea. NO idea what can happen."

But of course, that may be so untrue... you NEVER know someone's story, even when you think you do. But even knowing that didn't stop the jealousy.

There was a very pregnant woman I was glaring at with a little girl in tow. The little girl kept looking off to the side and saying to the air, "Hi! What's YOUR name?" to nobody. Adrian and I watched her do it several times before we looked at each other with That Look... then he said it, "Maybe she is talking to Valentina." I teared up again.

It was bizarre, walking through the motions again, so soon. Genetic counseling. Flu shot. Ultrasound. Handshakes and congratulations all around. Everyone was so happy for us.. the nurse, the OB, even my husband was so happy, once we got through the ultrasound. But as for me, I still hold back... I am HAPPY, don't get me wrong, but I am SCARED. I couldn't cry the tears of joy my husband did.

I'm saving them for November.

Blame

2011-03-02T20:44:00.003-06:00

I still blame myself for Valentina's death. When science has no answer, I feel the need to create one, irrational or not. My dear fellow babyloss mother Angie gave me the excellent advice to put all of the reasons I blame myself down on paper, so I can see how ridiculous they are. She says writing the words makes them lose their power. I believe her - she is brilliant. ; )

So here they are, the reasons I caused Valentina's death:

I gained too much weight.
I ate a frosty the afternoon she died.
I didn't sleep in the right position.
I used the laptop too much.
I used the laptop without putting a pillow under it.
I wasn't active enough.
I was too active.
I fell down twice.
I was too stressed out.
I killed her when I cried myself to sleep that day, taking a nap.
I wasn't grateful enough for what I had.
I wasn't ready enough for her- responsibility-wise, emotionally, financially.
I was cruel to people.
I wasn't patient enough- I wanted her out so badly by that time.
I took pain medication for severe SPD.
I ate too much chocolate.
I drank too much soda/coffee.
I didn't eat enough vegetables.
I didn't take infant care or breastfeeding classes.
I gloated too much.
I was too naive, I needed to be knocked down.
I told people too soon (5 weeks) and this was my punishment.
I wore my maternity belt too tight.
I dyed my hair.
I drank too much red raspberry leaf tea.
I ate too much pineapple.
I was too smug.
I was cursed by someone who hated me.
I probably made a joke at some point in my life about giving up my firstborn for ___.
I definitely made a few dead baby jokes as a kid.
I am being punished for not understanding the grief of others.
I sat on a couch that is too low and forced me to strain to get out of it daily.
I didn't keep my house clean enough and caught some horrible House disease.
I painted the nursery.
I scrubbed the kitchen floor while nesting.
I have some horrible undiagnosed illness no one caught that kills babies.

Whew.. that felt good to write. I know there is more. But this is a good start.

You were right, Angie. <3

Hello, Awkward.

2011-03-01T13:20:00.002-06:00

Since receiving our good news about Valentina's little brother or sister, I have been placed into a whole new world of weird. A world where I am both a grieving mother and glowing with excitement... how can those two things simultaneously exist?

A beautiful song by one of my favorite bands, Muse, came on the radio on the way to work last weekend. At the same time, I saw a group of small children around the age of 5-6 collecting money for their soccer team on the side of the road. One of the children was an adorable hispanic girl with a long ponytail, running down the sidewalk to her mom, huge grin on her face. I lost it. The song was so beautiful, I was filled with a new sense of awe and wonder that I am carrying a new life, yet, right in front of me was a child much like what I imagined my Valentina would have looked like, running to her mom- something Valentina never got to do. I was lifted, and then I was crushed.

Pregnancy after loss is a complicated place to be. I am starting to steel myself up for the days to come- when I start looking obviously pregnant, the questions will follow. "Is this your first?" (uh... no... but do I really want to tell the cashier at Target my story?) "Do you want a boy or girl?" (I will happily take ALIVE this time, thank you.) A woman expecting a rainbow baby has a whole different set of rules. The old ways don't apply. I am not feverishly pouring over "What to Expect" this time around. I catch myself ending sentences with, "...well, you know, if I make it that far." or "God willing." I also share my news much earlier than the average person would, because I know firsthand that you can wait until you are 38 and 1/2 weeks pregnant and STILL lose the baby. Screw waiting till the 2nd trimester. Bad news is bad news, any time.

In the brief time I've been pregnant, I've had friends take some time off from me. Friends with losses who are still trying. It hurts, but its to be expected, and its "fine." Somehow I have become both Someone Who Gives Me Hope and Someone Who Pisses Me the Fuck Off. I understand the hurt and the pain of having one negative test after another, while everyone and their dog and the 13 year old down the street all get pregnant just from brushing against a man. I've been there. But after a while, I had to ask myself, "How would I feel if I was pregnant and everyone shunned me?" Of course I would hate it. I would GET it- but I would HATE it. I think for me personally it was important to acknowledge that I could not continue to avoid my friends who were expecting any longer, or the bitterness would eat me alive.

So here I am, grieving one baby, and growing another. Lost in the limbo of babyloss and parenthood, all while trying to remain a loyal and diligent friend to all. I run a social group for babyloss parents in Austin- now I wonder if I am the person they really want to see every other week, as my belly (hopefully) grows?

Boy, this is awkward.

Rainbow

2011-02-23T23:56:00.002-06:00

(Warning: pregnancy triggers)

I have always been one to overshare. I am the Queen of TMI, and the inventor of TOO SOON. People tend to look surprised at the level of honesty I give them lol. But I just can't keep things to myself. Hell, neither of us can. We always open Christmas presents when they are bought. Birthday presents the night before.

So it is with great excitement and great anxiety that I am announcing that we are expecting again. Valentina will have a brother or sister in October, if all goes well. : )

Yes, that means I am barely pregnant. Yes, this is sooner than "most people" choose to share their news. Believe me, I don't need to hear the statistics- I am also Queen of Knowing How Statistics Can Sucker Punch You In The Balls.

But if there is one thing my precious baby girl taught me, its that all we have is NOW. Tomorrow is not a guarantee. You can survive anything with love. Ok that's three things. : ) But the message ends up being the same: I refuse to live in fear. I am OWNING the day. Today could be my last day with Little Bee... and if it is, I am not wasting a DAMN MINUTE holding back my love.

Come to the Dark Side; We Have Cookies.

2011-02-13T14:30:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, I overhead a conversation between a friend and a man who lost his wife to cancer three years ago. I was amazed at how positive and upbeat this guy was. And envious. Sometimes, I find that I can do that too- have a great outlook, find the silver lining, put a positive spin on things... but then, like today, it all comes crashing down. After all, how can a baby dying have a silver lining? How can you positively spin burying your only child?

Yes, I have inspired dozens. I have comforted. Valentina's story has traveled the globe. But none of that is enough for me to truly be able to be upbeat about surviving this. I don't think I will EVER be able to fully say, "No regrets." Or "Everything happens for a reason." That is simply unthinkable. I will ALWAYS fucking regret that I never heard her cry. I will NEVER think her death was meant to be.

I've found myself gravitating to others who have suffered loss. Of any kind. Or those who are hurting. I want to hurt with them. I want to join them. I want them to join me. I don't want to be alone in my sorrows. Its not that my sorrows consume me- on the contrary, I think most of my friends would consider me a fun person. Our house has even become a place where friends regularly gather to have a good time (dead baby pictures and all). But I want to band together... I want to look everyone who's ever been to hell and back in the eye and give them a knowing nod. A handshake, from one shattered person to another.

Strength in numbers, right?

Not Forgotten

2011-02-09T14:39:00.002-06:00

I have not forgotten you, gentle readers, friends, sisters. Not a single day goes by that I don't think of this special place, Valentina's place... that I don't think of you all, and your own sorrows and dreams. Not a single hour goes by that I don't long for Valentina, not a single day goes by that I don't wish I had the words to heal us all.

As time passes, I am growing accustomed to my new life more and more. I have a new job. I have a lot of new friends. I've decided to run the Face2Face Austin social group. I've managed to keep teaching violin, and even gigging, despite the career change. I've gotten ahold of my health and fitness again and actually made a small dent in this broken down body, weight-wise. And of course Adrian and I are trying our damnedest to make Valentina's baby brother or sister... to no avail yet.

All of these things have kept me from this place. All of those things as well as the same old tired feeling that no matter what I write, no matter how I say it, its all the same- I MISS HER. I long for her. I ache for her.

I still hurt when people off-handedly complain about their living children. I still feel a slow envious burn when I see a happily naive pregnant woman planning for her baby's GUARANTEED entry to this side of the world. I am still VERY wounded. But mostly, right now, I am in survival mode. I am medicated, I am moving forward, I am trying to keep a broad perspective and be positive. I have seen the dark side, I have seen what happens when I surrender fully to the unfairness of the world- and out of sheer self-preservation and a desire to be a good mother, wife, friend, sister, daughter, coworker, employee, teacher, advisor, mentor, and role model- I have steeled myself up and powered through the darkest days. I can see the dawn again, finally... at least today...

But this place is not forgotten.

Ghosts

2011-01-19T21:02:00.002-06:00

Sometimes, when people we love die, we run into people who remind us of them, "ghosts" of our loved ones. The way they talk, their mannerisms, their look- something washes over us like a wave and we are warmed by the gentle "hello" the universe has gifted us with.

Well, today, I saw a ghost of a person I never got to know- Valentina. Adrian and I were having a pretty bad day, and a VERY bad argument. We were at the grocery store... We got to the check out counter, and we stood there, kind of seething and pissed off, very much not the people anyone wants to engage in conversation. Even so, the girl scanning our groceries kept trying. Like, persistently trying. Eventually, her persistent pleasantness broke through my annoyance and I looked up at her- She was young, probably between 18-20 years old, and very pretty. Hispanic, blue color contacts, beautiful doe eyes, and a proud, straight Roman nose. She smiled, looking directly into my eyes.

And suddenly, without warning, that familiar feeling washed over me- she REMINDED me of Valentina, of my own daughter who I carried, who I held but never truly met face to face. She stood there, smiling pleasantly at us both, gently, kindly, and reminded us of what a beautiful day it was outside. I was instantly teary.

Do you think that the universe, or God sends us these people as a way to comfort us? To say hello? Is it even possible that they could be channeling our loved ones, bringing them straight to us, when we needed them?

Willpower

2011-01-16T00:03:00.003-06:00

Its amazing what a change in perspective, what a self-kick-in-the-ass can do...

In the last two days, I have seen signs... Almost bludgeoning me in the head! : ) Everywhere I turned, I heard the same message: "Life deals you lemons... make lemonade!"

In a nutshell. : )

At first, the motivational messages, the inspired speeches... they seemed over the top to me, corny... annoying. But over the hours, after the kept appearing, they began to permeate my awareness. I was slowly but surely realizing that all of those messages, all of those signs, were coming from SOMEWHERE... and they were no accident, no coincidence. So I decided to take a listen. To take the message to heart.

To realize that turning this grief ship around was a DECISION. Not just a one-time I'm-gonna-do-this-and-kick-it-in-the-ass thing, but a DAILY, sometimes HOURLY decision that had to be made. I had to kick myself black and blue... all day long. I had to force myself, gathering all my will and desire to just be OK again... and just MAKE IT BE SO.

And somehow, I did it... I overcame this last valley. By sheer willpower.

I kind of amazed myself.

Divergent Paths

2011-01-12T14:28:00.000-06:00

When Valentina died, my life took a sharp left turn. As if my life path was a straight line and suddenly it split in two. I feel like on one path, I delivered a beautiful baby girl that I took home. I picked up jogging again when I went back to work and lost weight. I spent the last eight months enjoying my beautiful perfect family.

In reality, I live on the other path- the path of heartbreak, wet with tears of grief, rage, longing, frustration, and fear. I sit here, a shell of my former self, fat and unhappy, unable to change, unable to turn my life back around. No living baby in sight.

Last night, I was talking to a dear friend, and he said I sell myself short. I am too hard on myself. He said it is a miracle I am alive, a miracle I am still married. (Even happily.) He reminded me I have many good things going on in my life. And he is right... but when I look over at the other Annette, the Annette that could have and should have been, I can't help but cry for all I have lost. All that she lost. (Everything.)

That other path is not real. It does not exist. THIS is my reality, THIS is my life. Loss and all. Fat and all. I cannot move forward if I cannot let go of that other life. Am I afraid that if I let go, I am letting go of Valentina? Maybe. But I have to come to terms with the fact that this is the path I am on, like it or not, and its the only path I've got. No amount of tears, no amount of wailing and asking "why?" is going to change that fact.

Letting go of that life, letting go of what should have been... its the only way to heal. Its the only way I can get stronger. It doesn't mean I don't love her. It doesn't mean she is forgotten or she meant nothing. She is the one thing in this world I love more than anything else. Letting myself accept that THIS is my life, that THIS is me now, that THIS is the hand I've been dealt... I need to find a way to do that. So I can heal. So I can grow. I cannot grow when I am desperately grabbing thin air.

Crazy Thinking

2011-01-06T22:50:00.003-06:00

There are few events in one's life that can fundamentally change them as a person, change your value system. Few events that can make you even go insane. I do believe burying a child is one of them.

Only burying my baby has genuinely put suicide on the table.
Only after I buried my baby did I feel the creeping tendrils of insanity slithering their way into the dark corners of my mind.
Only burying my baby made me ask myself completely honestly, "Could someone have actually CURSED me?" without laughing off the question.

Losing a baby, burying your child... it sprinkles the seeds of silly notions onto the fertile ground of possibility. The ground from which fantastical thinking grows so easily. You think about things you never would have considered before- curses, bad luck, karma, fate... All that hogwash and horseshit... It becomes a possibility. It becomes even reasonable question. And why shouldn't it? Its not like science provided a reasonable answer.

The world has not only proven to be a much crueler place than I thought, but also a much less understandable one. In a world where 12 inches = 1 foot, where 1 + 1 = 2, where the Earth spins around the Sun, planes can actually predictably lift off the ground, and where gravity stops us from floating off into the sky.... hearts don't just STOP beating for no reason.

Hello, 2011.

2011-01-01T13:01:00.002-06:00

I awoke this morning feeling like a new woman. Hopeful. Optimistic. Refreshed. Not so much like my usual 80 year old soul. : ) And boy, is it nice.

I had a Moment last night, watching the ball drop in NYC, watching the people hugging and laughing, crying, beaming with excitement... For the first time in my life, it truly struck me- what makes New Years Day so special. It sounds obvious, and maybe it is to everyone, but its a new start. A new beginning. A chance to start fresh, the hope of better days to come. A goodbye to everything in our pasts. A hello to the hopes and dreams for the future. Tears ran down my face, because truly, this was the first time I entered a new year really FEELING that need, that desperate need for things to just BE OK AGAIN.

I won't do resolutions. But I will make a couple of lists of my own.

Things I Want to Leave Behind
- Gut-wrenching sorrow
- Extreme anger at the unjust world
- The feelings of entitlement and expectations I had for my life
- Hopelessness
- An unhealthy mind and body

Things I Want to Bring Into My Life
- Positivity, optimism
- More joy
- A healthier perspective, a healthier body
- The mindset that every day on earth is a blessing and a gift, and nothing is owed, nothing is guaranteed
- Peace and acceptance

...and just because....
- A living child

The last one, well, that's obviously not a given, not guaranteed, not owed to us... but it is a wish, and I'm going to try my hardest to make it a reality. : )

Happy new year, beloved friends. I send you my love and my best wishes that this year brings many more smiles and many less tears than the year before. <3

2010 Recap

2010-12-28T22:06:00.001-06:00

1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before?
Carry a baby to term... deliver that baby. Bury my daughter. Soothe my grieving husband. Grieve my own child. Defend myself for grieving. SO many other related things, you get the drift. Contemplate suicide seriously. Hmm... "give up" music for a career in insurance.

2. Did you keep your New Years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don't remember what they were, but I'm betting they were things like "be an incredible mom" and stuff, so yeah, no. I will absolutely be making a list for the new year, although I'm not sure I would call it a list of resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes. (I almost wrote June and Jocelyn, but you guys both gave birth in late 2009 right?.. wow, time flies.) A couple of my cousins had babies. A ton of my internet friends from my due date communities and other pregnancy communities online gave birth. I gave birth too... to my beautiful daughter Valentina, who had already passed away roughly 30 hours before.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My most precious baby daughter Valentina Grace died inside my body, at 38 1/2 weeks gestation. She was as close to me as you can get, made of my own flesh and blood, and my husband's. My uncle's wife Nancy also died, a day before that I believe, but we were not close, although my uncle and I certainly bonded in our grief.

5. What countries/states did you visit?
Just Louisiana, in August, on an "emergency mental health vacation." We drove from Austin to New Orleans.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
Um. A baby that doesn't die? :P A living family of more than 2? I would also like more money please. lol! As well as a job I enjoy with people who respect me, which I definitely have now.

7. What dates/events from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 25th- the day Valentina's heart stopped beating and I heard the words, "There is no heartbeat." April 26th- a full day of laboring and grieving. April 27th- the day Valentina was brought out of my womb and into our arms, absolutely soft and beautiful and sweet. The day I saw the most beautiful face in the world. The day I fell in love like a mother does. The time my husband washed me in the shower, my first shower after labor. May 2nd- her rosary. May 3rd- her funeral. And then every Sunday (the day she died) and every Tuesday (the day she was born) after... as well as every 25th and 27th day of every month since. May 6th- her due date. Mother's Day. Father's Day. November 14th, the day my girlfriend Laurie had a birthday lunch and balloon release for the 1 year anniversary of her daughter's death. November 8th- the first day of my Real New Life (starting my new job and my new self). Thanksgiving- nothing to be thankful for. Christmas- supposed to be Baby's First Christmas. ........They say the first year is the hardest.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Not committing suicide. Truly. I think even that outweighs giving birth. (Although my birth-giving skills are much more of an Epic Fail variety than a Biggest Achievement.) Also toss in not losing my mind and not getting divorced or alienated from my husband. (We were never ever in danger of that through this experience- but many couples do split up.) Also toss in getting a great new job I enjoy and being more or less well-liked socially for "that weird lady who's baby died."

9. What was your biggest failure?
Aha, now there it is. ;P I know that Valentina's death was 100% in no way my fault (no cause of death determined)- but try and tell my broken heart that. I do and probably will always feel like I was a failure with Valentina.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
At the end of my pregnancy, I had horrible SPD, so I was in a great deal of pain. Then I went through a c-section and recovery, as well as an infection from the delivery. Aside from that, not a lot of sickness or injury. Unless you count depression, anxiety, and post traumatic stress.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
We didn't BUY it, but we did move to a new house, which feels the same- and its absolutely the best thing we did for ourselves. Our new house is so much more airy and light, and the bathroom is KILLER- huge jacuzzi tub and multi-leveled flooring. I think of that bathroom and this whole house as our Rehab House, like we are recovering from Valentina's death here, we are healing here.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I'd like to be vain and said OURS! It has been a horrible last 8 months and I think we have done a damn fine job being strong and positive... somehow, we are able to still be fun, and laugh a LOT... and I think that is pretty awesome of us.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
The friends I had to lose. Random hateful strangers on the internet who have problems with dead babies and grieving mothers. Most of the people on reality tv.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Bills. Funeral things/moving things. Therapy. And clothes- none of my "skinny" clothes fit after pregnancy, and the only other stuff I had is maternity and there's nothing more depressing for a woman who buried a baby to wear those maternity clothes she wore.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Having a baby. Then nothing for a while... then seeing Lady Gaga from the VIP section for free. :D Then New Orleans. Then my new job.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
"Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap. I heard it when we were moving our stuff into our new house two weeks after V died, then I just had to have the album. It became my soundtrack for grief, and I used it for the memorial video I made for group therapy. Many MANY people have told me that every time they hear the song, they cry and think of Valentina.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? 100% sadder of course. Last year I was 21 weeks pregnant with a baby girl.
b) thinner or fatter? fatter for sure. Working on it. As usual. :P
c) richer or poorer? I think we are about the same, although we are more content professionally now.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Maybe exercising or eating right. I spent most of the last 8 months not caring about myself or my diet.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Grieving. I wish I hadn't had to grieve, rather.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
Slept in, spent the morning crying, drove to San Antonio to visit our daughter's grave, stopped at my dad's on the way out, came home and faded away.

21. Which blogspot people did you meet this year?
All of them. : ) <3 Love you all. Wouldn't be here without you.

22. Did you fall in love in 2010?
I fell in love with my beautiful baby. I also fell completely in love with my husband all over again, that man is a fucking saint.

23. How many one-night stands?
Really? The rest of these questions were so good..

24. What was your favourite TV program?
Ahh the questions are going downhill. Oh well. LOST was, Law and Order SVU, Dexter... but mostly LOST.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I don't hate anybody really. But I am extremely disappointed in some.

26. What was the best book you read?
"An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination" by Elizabeth McCracken. Its a memoir of a stillbirth and it is heartbreakingly beautiful, dark, and hopeful.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Muse, without a doubt.

28. What did you want and get?
To see Lady Gaga from badass seats. :D Total dream come true. Our house. :D My new job. :D

29. What did you want and not get?
A healthy living baby girl. Mine was healthy but not living. (How is that even possible?) To raise her. To hear her noises, see her smile. So many things.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?
That's tough. I guess "Rachel Getting Married."

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was 31, it was about 2 weeks ago and I had a little shindig at my house. : )

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Well. I think we know.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
Jan-April: cute short fat lady hiding a gigantic watermelon under her top. After April: fat lumpy post partum body hidden under layers and squished in with girdles. With cute boots and scarf.

34. What kept you sane?
Medication, as well as my beautiful husband and faithful friends and family.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Its hard to say...

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Nothing really stirred me up much but I was very fascinated with Wikileaks.

37. Who did you miss?
Valentina... Valentina. Always. And my mother.. I wish I had her guidance.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
I can't even go there- I have met dozens of BEAUTIFUL, STRONG women and men that I admire and grieve with. I would absolutely say they are the best people I met in 2010.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010:
That whole whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.... Its true.

2010-12-25T11:29:00.002-06:00

I'm staring at the blinking cursor. I struggle, boy do I struggle, to find the "right thing" to say, to find the "right balance" between honoring my daughter who has died and still sending a message of hope and courage. I can post poems, I can post a beautiful song... but the fact still remains: this is horrible and unjust, spending the Christmas holidays without our baby. Spending the majority of 2010 with tears close by. It is all terrible. Yes, good can come from bad. My blog is read by hundreds of people, and sometimes, they write to me and tell me what a difference I have made in their lives. I have met incredible women, strong brave women, who have lost just as I have, or even more. I have grown a soul made of steel; I will never crumble, I am too fortified. I have discovered things about myself I never thought I could be capable of.

But the fact still remains that this Christmas, no tree stands in our house. No twinkling lights bringing good cheer. No gifts wrapped and waiting. No buzz of excitement. I am not humming Christmas tunes, we are not bustling around preparing for the day. No, we slept away the morning, dreading facing the day. We move slowly, numb. Our eyes are dull, our hearts are heavy.

The more days, weeks, months pass, the more stark the differences become between the New Normal and The Days Before. Sometimes I think that lives are like gigantic trees, and every action is a new branch off of the old one, and somewhere, on some branch, Adrian and I are spending Christmas morning in Corpus Christi, opening a million beautiful gifts under a beautiful Christmas tree with our families and our baby Valentina. Somewhere, we are happy. Somewhere, she is alive.

I don't know what possibilities await us. I don't know what branches are yet to be made. But I find it impossible to be hopeful for the future, at least today, when she is so incredibly absent from our lives.

The world goes on. Other people celebrate Baby's First Christmas. They laugh and smile and love and thank God for their blessings and their beautiful lives. I can only shake my fist at the sky today. Horrible shit just happens, and this time, it happened to me. It happened to us. I roll with the punches; at this point, I am truly "used to it," the way things are... but it doesn't make it any easier. I just know what to expect now.

Dear Santa

2010-12-24T13:03:00.003-06:00

Dear Santa,

Here is my Christmas wish list. Its a short one.

I want my baby back. I know you're Santa Claus, not God, but hey, western culture practically makes it all the same, so go ahead and work some miracle magic for me and bring her back to life. And not in a creepy "Pet Cemetery" or "Monkey's Paw" way either, thanks. I'm talkin living breathing teething happy drooly eight month old baby Valentina. Go ahead and put her in a frilly red Christmas dress too, and don't forget the Christmas bow in her hair, white baby tights, and shiny black mary janes. This is what I would have done normally, had all ended well.

For that matter, bring back all of my friend's babies too. Its cruel to make so many people go through this nightmare over and over again.

You know, I'd also like to comment on the whole "he knows if you've been bad or good" thing- I was VERY good this year. So is there a particular reason that you couldn't have brought me a positive pregnancy test this Christmas? I still don't deserve a baby?

Well fine, fuck you Santa. Get stuck in a chimney.

Bah Humbug,
Annette

Birthday Gifts

2010-12-16T11:12:00.002-06:00

Today is my 31st birthday. I kicked it off about 30 minutes early last night, crying over my baby, and the unfairness that I should live to have another and she should die without a one.

Its impossible not to compare today's birthday with last year's birthday. In January 2009, I decided I wanted to hit my 30th birthday in the best shape of my adult life. So I embarked on a fitness journey, losing 50 lbs between January and August. In August, we got pregnant with Valentina. By the time my birthday in December rolled around, I was halfway through my pregnancy, obviously not in what anyone would consider "great shape" lol being 20 weeks pregnant, but I was happy and healthy and glowing with joy. On my 30th birthday, I celebrated the happiest birthday of my life- we had an 8:30am sonogram, the "big ultrasound" where we were to find out gender. I remember everything I was wearing that day- my khaki corduroys, grey sweater, brown mary janes, pink 3/4 wool pea coat, my "bear hat," my new pink scarf Adrian bought me for my birthday... I was so excited and nervous, I could barely sleep the night before. The sonographer showed us all of the baby's perfect little organs one by one, confirming the baby was healthy and right on target... finally it was time for the big reveal... I analyzed the screen with growing glee and I said, "Is that what I think it is??" "What do you think it is?" "Is it a GIRL?!" I almost died of excitement when the thing I instinctively knew all along was confirmed. We were having a GIRL!!!

I don't think I could have glowed any brighter as we left the office that cold December morning... I immediately called my father and gave him the good news, my voice trembling as I told him, "Now I know, daddy, I know how you felt when you found out I was a girl... all the dreams and hopes you had for me, I FEEL that!" I suddenly knew how much my parents must have loved me, and I knew what it was like to dream about my daughter, my DAUGHTER! Her wedding day, if she would play the violin like me, if she would travel the world and meet a French violinist and fall in love, if she would be beautiful and brilliant and chaste and noble... I was flooded with dreams of her future, with wonder and awe that WE WOULD HAVE A DAUGHTER.

We called my mother in law, who is a radio disk jockey, and my husband told her the good news live on air. I think we could hear her screaming all the way from Austin. : ) We drove to our traditional post-OB mexican restaurant and ordered breakfast. I posted our exciting news on Facebook, and was instantly bombarded by calls and texts and posts and emails congratulating us and wishing me the best birthday wishes. It was a euphoric morning, and the rest of my day at work was as well, as I was floating on the cloud that hopes and dreams are made of.

Obviously, things are very different this year. I am one year older in body, and 50 years older in soul. I was taken from the highest of highs, preparing her nursery, four baby showers, taking childbirth classes, and waiting to birth and meet our beautiful little girl, to the lowest- holding her lifeless body, picking out a casket and funeral clothes, and burying her. Then facing my life without her. I'm in the worst shape of my life, and I've been through the ringer, to put it mildly. I have a whole new crop of silver hairs, and a whole new shape after carrying her for nine months. We have an empty nursery, waiting for another baby who may or may not come. I've lost friends. (I've gained them too... for which I am eternally grateful.) I'm a new person that sometimes I don't recognize. I have been fundamentally changed. Some days it feels like for the worst- most days, I know its for the better.

I love bigger than I ever have. I feel things deep in my soul I would have never known. I feel like my "human experience" is now an incredibly vast spectrum of colors I'd never seen. I would give it all back in a heartbeat if it meant that Valentina could have lived. But that's not an option. So instead, I'll accept these new gifts I have, the gifts that losing her gave me. Those will be my birthday gifts this year. Thank you, Valentina. I love you baby.

angry

2010-12-12T13:08:00.003-06:00

Its pretty easy to wallow in your grief when there is no hope on the horizon. Just saying.

Raw

2010-12-09T22:26:00.002-06:00

Sometimes... its just crushing. I spend so many days, so many hours of being ok, smiling, laughing, joking, keeping up appearances, walking this tightrope of tension, carefully compartmentalizing my thoughts...

And then I hear a beautiful song, when I sit alone in my house, and everything pours out in hot hot tears, wailing loud enough that I worry the neighbors will call police.

I can write "its so unfair" every day for the rest of my life and it won't be enough. There are no answers, there is no reason, its just WRONG. It is WRONG that I have to cry in the aisle at Target trying to pick out a snow globe for my dead baby's first Christmas. ITS WRONG. *I* am not wrong for feeling what I feel, ITS WRONG THAT SHE DIED.

Its WRONG that I have to visit a grave on a HOLIDAY filled with CHEER. There is NOTHING cheery about my baby's grave, her tiny casket, all of it. ITS WRONG. Its all so convoluted and fucked up.

I know this moment will pass. I KNOW that. But in this moment, the grief is as fresh and raw as the day she died.

Over the Rainbow

2010-12-08T21:24:00.001-06:00

About 5 weeks after Valentina died, I played a wedding gig, the one where I took the infamous Peacock Photo. During the "prelude music" (the part before the ceremony starts), one of the songs was "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Being the violinist in the trio, I had the melody. I remember thinking, "How the hell am I going to keep it together??" and I just knew I had to play for Valentina. To honor her.

Anyway, so while I'm playing the song, I am completely playing my heart out- it was absolutely the most beautiful I'd ever played it. I remember almost the entire first part of the song, a woman at the wedding was watching me with the biggest smile and tear-filled eyes, she was relatively young. I remember really connecting with her and feeling like I was playing for HER too, like, because she obviously was so moved...

I didn't think about it until tonight but... now I suspect that this woman either had or was pregnant with a rainbow baby. She was SO moved, and me, being only 5 weeks postpartum, I still looked about 5-6 months pregnant. She probably thought I was pregnant and playing it and that it was a good omen or just touching or something. I don't know. She could have just been a person who loved the song. : ) But I kinda like thinking that maybe we were sisters.

The D Word.. Otherwise known as the Dead Baby Bomb

2010-12-06T00:16:00.003-06:00

Why are we so afraid to speak about the dead babies? Why are people so reluctant to hear about them?

People often say death is such a taboo, at least in Western culture. But I disagree, I think that we are getting pretty good at discussing death- coming to terms with death (Six Feet Under anyone?), being desensitized to death (Dexter), accepting your own mortality (The C Word), even the death of a child (My Girl, the play/new film Rabbit Hole)... but the REAL last taboo is the death of a baby. People will say they are terrified of SIDS happening to their family, but no one actually wants to DISCUSS SIDS or stillbirth when it does happen.

The babylost are made to feel as though their babies didn't really exist. People react in surprise when you are "still" mourning. Women get uncomfortable when you try to talk pregnancy talk, as if my baby dying negates the nine months I carried her and the 22 hours of labor and c-section and postpartum recovery. As if it negates the five months my breasts leaked milk, refusing to leave my body, like it was the last bit of hope that Valentina would come back.

Sometimes, we drop the D word, or the DB Bomb (dead baby bomb) on unsuspecting folks. Sometimes its an accident, sometimes its out of sheer desperation and a yearning to talk about our children. Its like the dirty little secret gets so huge inside us that we have to hit the release valve and let some out. Most people handle it pretty well, they are polite and sympathetic, even sometimes a little awestruck ("wow, you are really an incredibly strong woman... bless your heart" kind of thing). But some people just get that deer in headlights look, that "I wish I could vanish from this spot NOW, I am SO uncomfortable!" look. The awkwardness breathing down our necks. And its all because no one wants to talk openly about dead babies. Why? Too sad? Yeah, no shit its too sad. Give me a fuckin hand here and HELP me through this obviously painfully awkward moment!

I feel just a tiny bit passionate about this. : )

My daughter isn't my dirty secret. And she did happen. She IS my baby, she WAS beautiful, and I will never stop dropping her on you unsuspecting folks. She deserves to be heard about. Her story deserves to be told.

Wake Me Up When December Ends

2010-12-01T16:48:00.005-06:00

Well, its December. My favorite month of the year. I was born in December, the 16th in fact, about a week before Christmas. I have always loved December best- the cold, the Christmas lights, the music, the traditions, the family, the hot cocoa...

And LAST December, well, it was incredible. I had my first prenatal massage, in my living room, the gentle moody hum of Autechre drifting in the background, and the only light coming from the twinkling lights of our Christmas tree, a pale blue and red glow. I celebrated my 30th birthday by having The Big Ultrasound, where it was revealed that Valentina was in fact Valentina and not Dorian. I had a wonderful birthday dinner, complete with out of town friends too! We also had a wonderful night at Zilker Park's Trail of Lights display (hot cocoa, warm coats and dear dear friends.) A week later, we were in Corpus with our families, where we received about a million baby things- almost all pink, since it was new news that we were having a girl. We celebrated New Years with extra joy, knowing we would be bringing our baby girl into this world in 2010.

Heh, "knowing."

I don't know how to deal with December anymore. It is just a GIANT reminder of what we do not have, and who should be here. The passing of one year to the next reminds me of how much time has gone by without her, and how short life is... the clock has stopped merely ticking and is now screaming in my brain. I cannot help but compare December 2010 to December 2009. All the hopes and excitement, shattered, leaving behind this gaping mess of a wound in my heart.

I try to be optimistic now- after all, I have a new job, we are still happily married, I have wonderful friends and family who love me- but after months of unsuccessfully trying to have another babe, I just feel weighed down by discouragement. I thought if I was pregnant by Christmas, or my birthday, that December wouldn't be so bad. And maybe it would have still been awful. Probably. But I don't know, I'll never know. All I know is that its here, and it hurts.

Oh and... Christmas songs can go fuck themselves. Except these.

Grief Spills Out

2010-11-30T23:41:00.003-06:00

Now that I am back to work full time, I have to keep my grief feelings in a little imaginary box. I keep this box hidden out of sight most of the time. But sometimes, the grief gets too big, and it spills out into my eyes in a hot gush of tears. It probably happens at least once a day, and usually, no one knows.

Yesterday, this is the song that caused it:

Today, this is the song that caused it:

Its amazing to me how different songs are Now. The same songs I loved Before take on a whole new meaning. They always touched me before but now... now they just... GUT me.

And then the grief spills out.

One thing I learned in 2010: there is no limit to the number of tears a broken heart can produce.

Taking Time for Me

2010-11-26T23:21:00.003-06:00

Adrian and I have decided, somewhat unhappily, to take off the next two months ttc. (For the non-baby people, ttc= trying to conceive.) I am pretty unhealthy right now, and I suspect this is why my body is not functioning correctly. So... the next two months are going to be hard. Going to do a lot of eating right, going to do a lot of exercising. I know that sounds stupid... Normal people eat right and exercise no problem. But for me, that's a hard thing to do. I've done it before- I lost 50 lbs in 2009 before getting pregnant with Valentina. I know I can DO it... but DOING it... is so hard. I have this horrible dark cloud of grief pushing me down.

FUCK that noise. I have to do this. For me, for our future children, if we can even have any more.

Bleh.

Giving Thanks

2010-11-25T20:27:00.002-06:00

Today is Thanksgiving. Today is my first Thanksgiving without Valentina.

I am angry. I am bitter. I am angry... oh wait, I said that already. Heh. But I think I'm angry enough that its ok to say it twice. I am especially angry that on this day of all days, I get to find out that once again, we are not expecting another baby. The world is cruel that way, believe me. I've learned it. So many things I know now that I never wanted to...

I feel like I want to give Thanksgiving the finger. I want to cuss it out. I want to backhand it in the face. I want to push it on the ground, kick it in the back, and then smush its head in the gravel. I am mean to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was mean to ME.

Its a real struggle to find thanks today. I mean, on one hand, in the most obvious ways, its not- I don't even have the words to express how grateful I am for the endless love and support I (we) receive on a daily basis. We have family that loves and cares for us. Family that is kind and sensitive enough, BRAVE enough to mention Valentina during Thanksgiving prayers... Friends, old and new, who send their blessings, their prayers and love. Friends who offer a shoulder to cry on, friends who bought me a punching bag on Craigslist, friends who let me talk about my dead baby and don't get igged out, friends who ask to see her pictures, friends who love me, even when I am so angry and so bitter and cold and distant. I am... SO.. thankful for that.

But I would give it all away for just one moment with my baby girl, alive, in my arms.

I'm such an ingrate.

Its ICLW so I better post : )

2010-11-22T23:07:00.002-06:00

Yay for ICLW!! :D I hope I have some new lookers... I haven't been posting much since I started my new job, but here's a quick intro:

I'm Annette, I'm turning 31 in three weeks, happily married in Austin Texas- seven months ago this weekend, our first baby, our daughter Valentina, was stillborn full term, at almost 39 weeks of pregnancy. No cause of death. The last seven months have taken me to hell and... almost back, not quite back yet. But they have aged me 50 years, given me a wealth of grief-knowledge, and changed me fundamentally. They've also expanded my heart to the horizons, through the love and friendships that have grown since then. I wear many hats in my life (wife, sister, daughter, cousin, best friend, colleague, musician, teacher, CSR : ), writer, annoying-over-sharer on Facebook, coworker...) but HERE, THIS place, THIS blog- this is the Real Deal Me, Valentina's mommy, grieving, aching, longing and loving and living. You read this blog, you know me better than you ever could before.

<3

Now, Today, Its a Choice.

2010-11-17T13:04:00.002-06:00

I have been neglecting my blog.

Started a new job last week; Its going well. I really love it, actually, its a great fit for me. But along with a new routine and new faces comes a whole new set of troubles. Mainly, "The Kid Thing."

Whenever a new group of people is thrust into a life of seeing each other daily, or even 11 hours of the day, they are going to search for things they have in common. One of the biggest and easiest things for practical strangers to talk about and relate to is kids. "Do you have kids? How many kids? Aren't kids the best? Oh, and my daughter is having twins!"

:(

After almost seven months of This New Life, I've gotten relatively used to The Kid Thing. But that was because it was pretty spaced out, and I could find ways to protect myself. Now, its in my face, almost every day, and the "worst" part is- I can't run to the bathroom and escape it. Or run to the bathroom and call my husband. Or even speak up (depending on the situation). I've tried to let as many people know about Valentina at work as I can, at least when its appropriate. (For example, I have spoken about her twice to a room full of people, because the object of the talk was to talk about my personal life, and everyone ELSE could talk about their kids so.... I did too. Dammit.) But not everyone has gotten the memo. Or some people got the memo but they didn't read it. ;P

I love the people at my new job and I know they mean well. And I know that anything they say that hurts me is not their fault, or mine really, its just an unfortunate fact of life. Doesn't make it any easier. :(

But there is a big difference now in the way I react, the way I function in these hard situations. Two months out, if I had to listen to a woman gushing about her infant at home, I would suffer through it and then collapse in a mess of tears after she left. It might even ruin my whole day. Now, I suffer through it (pretty much the same), and feel very sad and frustrated and maybe even angry (at god? I dunno.), but then I push it away, and I go about my business. And the moment has passed. Its a conscious decision I make to not fall apart.

I have decided that I don't believe that this is just something that comes with time. I believe that 40% of it comes with time, and 60% of it is a decision. You can probably make a good argument that the very ability to make it a decision comes with time. But whatever the case, the fact remains that MOST days, I can roll with it. I can make the choice to not fall over the edge. The feelings are still there- the sadness, the hurt, the aching, the longing, the anger, the self pity, self loathing, the unjustness, the rage and the horror- its all still there. The difference is that I choose to not let it overwhelm me.

I think, at this point, it might even just be purely survival.

Snapshot of a Memory of a Nightmare

2010-11-11T19:23:00.002-06:00

I decided to go through my closet and drawers tonight to scrounge up some clothes for my NEW JOB (*ahem*). I found some interesting things. Some clothing that I should be able to wear to work... some clothing I can't wear to work because its from before pregnancy and I'm so much bigger now... some clothing I can't wear because its obviously maternity. I also came across my old purse, the old bag I used right after losing Valentina.

Going through the bag was like going through a graveyard of memories. Here is a snapshot of a memory of a nightmare:

An old bottle of Lexapro, probably half full. It was prescribed to me while I was still in the hospital recovering from my c-section. I just stopped taking it one day. A business card for our therapist. An appointment card to said therapist. Several old pads for postpartum bleeding.

It was eerie looking through those old remnants. I'm entering a blog entry in Creme de la Creme (see my button on the top right of my page) and I spent a while going through my older blogs earlier today... it was a similar feeling. Its amazing, the things I have forgotten in the last six months. Or seeing how my feelings have changed over time. I don't know if I feel good or bad about it... the memories right now, everything, just makes me feel melancholy.

Damn, this entry is so poorly written. Poorly worded. I sound confused. And I feel confused.

I was also disappointed to see that the quality of my writing has gone downhill in the last three months. :\ Maybe even the last four months. I want to do something about that, but I don't feel like tonight is the night.

That damn purse made me so sad... and mad. That purse reminded me of so many things. Limping into the therapist's office, my feet still all swollen with pregnancy, lochia leaking all over my gigantic pad, wearing pj pants and a t-shirt. Crying. Bleeding. Crying and bleeding. Aching womb, aching arms. Aching heart.

You Have a Baby, and I Have...

2010-11-05T18:06:00.003-05:00

My ex-boyfriend (we broke up 10 years ago, its ancient history.) had a baby. He is beautiful. His photos made me cry. (My fault; I was a creepy e-stalker and looked them up on Facebook, knowing full well what would happen.)

I'm just writing, just whatever comes to my mind right now.. usually I have a plan, at least a sort-of thought out plan on a blog's topic and format, feel, etc. But today.. I just need to write. Talk it out. Whatever this is.

I'm not jealous, per se, of their family. I mean I am, but no more jealous of them than anyone else who has a baby safe and sound in their arms. I saw all the "congratulations on your beautiful bundle of joy!" postings on the Facebook wall, the endless stream of goodwill and love and care for them and their precious baby. I never got those congrats. I carried Valentina for 9 months, labored for 22 hours, and delivered an absolutely stunningly beautiful baby girl, 7lbs and 9oz, only to hear, "I'm so sorry for your loss." Instead of dressing my baby in her going-home outfit and spreading pictures like wildfire on Facebook, the funeral home dressed her in her going-home outfit and put her in a casket. I spread sadness all over my Facebook, infecting people with grief, like a virus.

Instead of fumbling awkwardly with my Boppy, or struggling to master the perfect swaddle, I fumble awkwardly with the answers to questions such as, "Do you have kids?" or "How is the BABY?! You must have had her by now..." I have mastered the art of making other people feel less awkward with my answers.

I don't struggle with lack of sleep from a crying hungry and fussy baby: I struggle with nightmares and flashbacks and sorrow keeping me up at night.

I don't get to talk about my pregnancy and labor and delivery with other mothers of newborns. If I bring up my own stories, even if they are happy ones, a chill goes through the air, like my stories of pregnancy and thoughts about laboring don't count because at the end, there were tears of anguish, not joy. My circle of mommy friends, for the most part, have empty arms. Are we parents, even though our children are in the ground or on the mantle? Sometimes I think we have the HARDEST parenting job of all- defending the lives of our babies who no longer live. Honoring their short short lives. Our play dates are tearful ones over coffee. Our parenting questions for each other are questions like: "How often do you visit the cemetery?" "Do you go to group therapy too?" or "How did you get your milk to go away so fast?" (For the record, mine took FIVE MONTHS.)

It is so unfair. LIFE is unfair, period, really. And although I know it, I have LEARNED it, forever, irrevocably... it doesn't change the hurt. There is a constant ache that exists inside of me, a giant Valentina-shaped hole that will never go away. One day, if we are lucky, we will have another child. We may even get to take that one home with us. We will grow older, we will see our children grow older, we will live, learn, love, laugh. But Valentina will always be gone. And she will forever be missed.

And to you, with your beautiful new baby, with your whole lives ahead of you, all those dreams and hopes for the future...
Never... EVER... take that child for granted.

Don't You Think We KNOW?

2010-11-01T21:49:00.002-05:00

So a great deal of my emotions today were swept up in Lily Allen. (British singer.) She lost her baby this last weekend at 6 months of pregnancy. The details are not out there; we don't know exactly how many weeks she was (in the UK, more than 24 weeks of perinatal loss is a stillbirth, in the US its 20 weeks), if the baby was born alive or not, etc. But the fact remains, Lily had to deliver and say goodbye to her sweet baby.

And the idiots came out of the woodwork.

People saying she caused it because of drug use, saying she deserved it for being a whore, etc. People just saying a lot of mean and nasty things. There was even a Facebook page created saying that Lily needs to stop trying to have kids.

It is INCREDIBLE how many horrible people are out there making these judgements. Of course she is a celebrity, so that comes with the territory. But do people really think that Lily herself isn't having these same thoughts? Wondering if there was something she did wrong, wondering if something about her past or her history made this happen, either though science or "karma?"

When we lost Valentina, I can tell you this: I spent HOURS upon HOURS agonizing about the things I did- either during pregnancy or before pregnancy, that may have caused this outcome. I thought about the coffee I drank, the sodas, the candy, hell, even the EXERCISE I did. I thought about the Frosty from Wendy's I ate at Valentina's "last meal." I thought about all the bad things I'd ever done in my life, all the horrible crap I put people through, all the terrible jokes I ever made, the cruel judgements I made. I spent so much time blaming myself and loathing myself and my choices- of course a coroner's report cleared me of all things scientific and medical- I did not kill my daughter- but the guilt remains. Maybe it was karma? Maybe I deserved it?

The fact remains though, that even if I DO deserve all the pain and heartache in the world, there are two people who absolutely DON'T- Adrian and Valentina. Adrian is such a GOOD MAN. He deserves much more than I could possibly ever give him. But not this. And Valentina... Valentina deserved a good life. Two loving doting parents and a plethora of family, friends, and adopted aunties and uncles.

It is hard enough for us to be such flawed, imperfect human beings forced to bury their own beloved flesh and blood. That particular Hell is deep enough. But to rub in our faces the very darkest fears we must carry for the rest of our lives... if there IS such a thing as karma, you might want to reconsider.

In Memoriam

2010-10-31T20:27:00.002-05:00

The last few days have been tough. Tougher than tough. Although many women use Halloween as a chance to let their inner skank out, and many guys use it as an opportunity to wear fake blood (ha), Halloween is really a kid's holiday. And a chance for parents to show off to the world how ADORABLE their little one is with animal ears, a princess dress, or superhero duds.

But for those of us in the babyloss world, Halloween is a much more grim occasion. Coffins and cemeteries just aren't... cute. RIP, rest in peace... I don't think I need to explain.

And there's the children. The babies. The babies dressed as pumpkins, bears, elves, frogs, ladybugs, hotdogs, or as I saw on my street tonight, clowns with GIANT curly rainbow colored wigs. Its heartbreaking to us.

Can you guess who's porch light is off tonight? :(

There's always adult parties... alcohol in abundance, friends packed tight in someone's living room celebrating the chance to get a little kooky and crazy. We just... don't feel like participating this year. :\

Instead of participating in Halloween, we decided to do something for our little girl. We made her an altar. I guess technically it is for Dia de los Muertos, the Mexican Day of the Dead. Celebrating the lives of those gone before us.

I had a few rough moments making the altar: I ordered the photos online; went to pick them up at the drugstore. I got all shaky at the register, asking for my photographs. I wondered if the guy at the counter was the one who printed them up. Then I saw the female's name on the order slip, and realized she was nowhere in sight. I wondered if maybe she was crying in the back, and that it was all my fault for making her crop and edit photos of a dead baby. I felt terrible. I wanted to apologize. And then I just wanted to smash something because of the fact that I even have to be in this position, printing out photos of my dead daughter for her altar, instead of dressing my live six month old up as a peanut for Halloween.

Sigh.

The other moment was in the nursery. I decided that I wanted some of "her things" on the altar- stuffed animals of hers, anything else little I could find quickly in the (still packed) boxes. I was quickly sorting through a bin when I came across a Sephora bag. (Note: my memory of pretty much everything from the hospital is extremely fuzzy.) I opened the bag, reached in and pulled the contents out. Stuffed in my hand was the softest sweetest knitted hat, sweater and baby blanket, along with a little note that said "knitted by the ladies of (church)." A wail rose from deep within me and I burst into tears. I must have stood in that spot for five minutes, wailing and moaning at the top of my lungs, to the point of gagging and almost vomiting on the floor. Clutching those tiny feather soft baby clothes in my fists, rubbing them on my face and squeezing them to my chest.

I haven't done that in a long time.

Side note:

Adrian and I have been re-watching the old tv series Twin Peaks. If you're not familiar with the premise, its a whodunit (with a supernatural David Lynch twist) about a teenage girl who is murdered in a small logging town. I must say... its a far different show from this side of the story. Seeing Laura Palmer's parents grieving, seeing the breakdowns, the funeral... it had us in tears. Tears of the worst kind of understanding. Before, I think I would watch those moments on Twin Peaks and think "Wow, how edgy and dark," or something like that... now I watch in tears, recognizing ourselves on the screen. Its chilling. Yet somehow... a comfort. Bizarre.

Trading Expectations for Acceptance

2010-10-28T13:32:00.003-05:00

"Let go of what you think life should be so you can experience the life you have. "

"Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. "

"Self-acceptance comes from meeting life's challenges vigorously. Don't numb yourself to your trials and difficulties, nor build mental walls to exclude pain from your life. You will find peace not by trying to escape your problems, but by confronting them courageously. You will find peace not in denial, but in victory. "

"Acceptance of others, their looks, their behaviors, their beliefs, bring you an inner peace and tranquillity -- instead of anger and resentment"

and the best one...

"Serenity comes when you trade expectations for acceptance."

This isn't so much about Valentina's death. That, I will never be ok with. I can "accept" it because I have to, but it will never be ok. This is more about everything else. Bemoaning my old life, my old friendships.

I am going to make a list of things that I am unhappy about that I need to accept:

- friendships have changed.
- my body will never be the same.
- I have a permanent new perspective that may make me or others feel awkward at times.
- my body (and maybe god too?) is on its own schedule and terms, not mine.
- people will not say and do everything perfectly. Or even close.

I can't expect these things to change. I can't expect ANYTHING. I just have to accept what happens, what has happened, and what will happen, and do my best to retain my sanity, composure, and not fault anyone or anything for it.

All I can really do is be the best me that I can. And I know I'm better than this.

Do You Think of Her

2010-10-27T12:42:00.003-05:00

It has been six months.

Do you think of her?

No, not you, babyloss mamas around the world who have rallied around me and everyone else, lighting candles, sending hugs... I KNOW you do. And I love you for it. I mean everyone else... here...

Those of you who patted my belly in pregnancy, who knew me "before," who excitedly awaited the good news that she was born alive, safe and sound... do you think of her? Of us? Or is it just too sad, too much, too uncomfortable, you don't know what to say, how to say it...

Just... say something. Not all the time. Doesn't have to be every day. But maybe on the important days. Anniversaries. Random days she pops into your mind. Whatever. Just... say SOMETHING.

The silence from the majority of my real-life friend population is... deafening. Its a screaming silence. Especially from the very people who were with me almost EVERY SINGLE DAY of those nine months. They are the ones who say the least. And make me the saddest.

I don't want you to coddle me. I don't want you to bend over backwards trying to let me know you care. I just want an occasional reminder that YOU DO. A word. A hug. An email. A text.

The more you stay away, the more closed off you get, the sadder I get, and the angrier. And then guess what happens. I am bitter. I am closed off. And then the cycle is complete. Everyone is mad, everyone feels unappreciated, unloved. Everyone has something to say and no one is saying it.

YOU DON'T LIKE ME ANYMORE.

And that's fine. There is really nothing I can do but accept that.

But oh GOD how my heart is crying. The loneliness is too much to bear on top of the rest of it. The rejection is too hard.

I want

2010-10-25T12:20:00.002-05:00

**ttc warning**

I want a BFP. I was dumb and POAS last night, 12dpo. Big fat negative. I wasn't surprised; with Valentina, I got a BFN around the same time. The next test was 3 days after AF was due, and obviously it was positive. I guess I will wait until this weekend to try it again. I just feel so discouraged... with every new pregnancy, every announcement of a rainbow, I am convinced it will never be our turn again.

Lately I keep focusing on things I want. For example, things I want people to say. Things I want people to NOT say. Things I want people to do. Things I want from my life that I don't have.

What I HAVE are high expectations, I guess. And they will never be met. And that is a hard thing to come to terms with. But I have to learn to stop expecting well, ANYTHING. I can't expect that just because I want an apology, I will get one. I can't expect an explanation just because I asked for one. I can't expect understanding just because I want it. I can't expect to be pregnant just because we try to become so. I can't expect things to "be the way they used to be" just because I miss it.

:( Lame. I want so much and get so little. But even that is not true.

I think I need to focus more on what I have and not what I WANT to have. Easier said than done, maybe.

Day Ten and Day Eleven

2010-10-21T13:55:00.002-05:00

I need to play serious catch up, so I'll be posting more of these, a few at a time.

Day 10 - a photo taken over 10 years ago of you and how it makes you feel seeing it now.

This was on Halloween, in 1998. Me, my boyfriend Nathan (a babyloss dad now, and a good friend/guide, interestingly enough), and my girl friend Daphnee. I LOVE this photo- first of all, we all look so thin and sexy LOL. I also love Nathan's super Trent Reznor look, and me and Daph's vampy look. We had a lot of fun dressing up goth and being silly. It reminds me of a time when we were all so young and pretty innocent. When we had "our whole lives ahead of us." Nathan and I never knew we would lose babies. Daphnee didn't know she would someday become an incredible force of a single mom. The world was our oyster, as they say. I guess ultimately, this photo makes me happy and also a little sad, missing childhood. We were all 18.

Day 11 - a photo of you recently and how it makes you feel seeing it now.

This photo makes me feel all kinds of things. I feel mostly proud, because I look confident and determined in it. But it kills me that I even had to know I Am The Face, and Faces of Loss, etc... this is a whole new world I exist in now, with a new set of friends, rules, customs... But I like to think I look pretty cute. : ) lol. I like my haircut. I love my shirt. I like my steady smile. I like that I CAN SMILE. But I hate that this picture even exists.

Can't Win

2010-10-20T18:39:00.002-05:00

Hello readers!

Its been a while. I was out of town for five days and three days later, I am still playing catch up.

I feel like in many ways, my trip was a real turn-the-corner experience for me. Maybe its also just "time" since its been almost six months now without Valentina. Not that the suffering is ever over, but the sharp sharp dagger broken heart pain is now a dull ache with occasional sharp twinges.

I went out of town to play with a symphony a couple of hours away. While there, I had so many incredible nights with friends. I write a lot about anxiety, and specifically social anxiety. Since I became a babyloss mom, I've felt like I could barely handle social situations- I was too raw, too out of it, too awkward and self-conscious. And honestly, I still am. But the difference now is that I am forcing myself to go through the motions anyway, to just let loose and get a little crazy.

People who met me last week in Victoria for the first time may think I am a party-er. They might have gotten the impression that I drink a little too much, that I stay out very late, that I like to be social and attentive to everyone. The truth is, even before we lost our beautiful baby girl, I was not much of a drinker. Not much of a party-er. I like to go to bed by midnight. I need my eight plus hours of sleep.

But there was something about being away from home, hell, even just being away from my husband that made me go "if you are going to survive this, you need to let it all hang out." I thrust myself into the thick of things. I made new friends. I went to parties. I stayed out late. I drank a lot of wine. : ) And strangest of all- I enjoyed it. Thoroughly. For the first time in six months, I wasn't just trying to SEEM ok, I WAS ok.

Of course, along with that come the feelings of guilt. "How can I be so fun and happy when my daughter is dead and gone and never coming back?" "How can I be so silly and social when a week ago I was crying and wanted to just disappear?" "What on EARTH must people be thinking of me??"

I also wonder if its just a temporary change. If I am just still riding the high. If maybe just maybe, I'm NOT ok, I've actually just LOST MY MIND and I'm going insane, laughing and smiling all the way to the nuthouse.

But mostly, I feel like a bad mother for having so much fun and being so ok. No one else is ok. I see everyone's blogs, statuses on FB, I see the endless tears in group therapy. Is something wrong with me? Is it horrible that six months later I can honestly feel like I have made progress and that I am moving forward? Does that make me a bad mother? Does it cheapen Valentina's life?

I guess you just can't win in this game, no matter how the wind blows.

The Real Deal

2010-10-15T10:01:00.002-05:00

I have about five minutes to write this so its not going to be pretty or fancy lol. But it needs to be said.

Two incredible things happened this week. One was the video I made for class, which I shared with you all. Making that video was so impossibly hard. It brought up a lot of feelings I hadn't dealt with in a little while. I felt very very vulnerable and exposed putting it out there (and boy did I put it out there- Facebook, YouTube, class, here, livejournal...) Although it was terrifying, ultimately it did something incredible: it put people briefly in our shoes. Something about the music, the pictures... actually SEEING Valentina's sweet little body... it really brought it home for a great number of our friends, and for that- I am SO grateful to have taken the risk. : ) So worth it.

Number two: I had an incredible evening last night. I'm out of town, playing a symphony gig, and usually (especially post-loss) these things make me so unbearably nervous. I get panic attacks just being around more than two other people. But last night I made the decision to just be brave and be bold and not give in to my fears. First of all, the night was started off with a children's Halloween concert. HELLO, triggers! But I did incredibly well. I only teared up a little bit during the costume contest; I don't think anyone even noticed. After the concert, I took a couple of my girlfriends to an after party, hosted by a local couple, where we had some great food and wine. It was there that I could feel myself start to slip into panic/lonely mode... but I grabbed myself by the bootstraps and forced myself to mingle- and I am SO glad. We ended up taking the party to a local karaoke bar, where it was just one hilarious and fun thing after another. I had some good conversation with friends, both new friends and old friends. I watched my old buddy C play "Devil Went Down to Georgia" on my violin. I watched new buddy M sing one of my favorite Queen songs. I watched old buddy J rock it out to "Blue Monday". : ) And craziest of all.... I myself signed up to sing and didn't chicken out of "Uninvited" by Alanis Morisette. The craziest part was that I was really nervous (I don't know why, I sang with my husband's band for ages) and I think our friends new it... so they all ended up joining me onstage: C played the violin along with the song (fucking AWESOME!), M danced behind me, J danced.... omg. It was AMAZING!! I felt SO loved, SO supported, and SO good! And everyone was gushing about how well I did, even the dude who runs the karaoke and other perfect strangers! LOL. I didn't think I was that awesome (too many $2 margaritas).... but I am SO glad that I got the nerve to do it and forced myself.

Again, a situation where I was vulnerable and frightened, but puffed myself up and made it happen... only to be rewarded with SO much love and friendship. : ) I will remember those things FOREVER.

And THAT, my friends, is the real deal.

Therapy

2010-10-12T15:37:00.003-05:00

Isn't therapy supposed to make you feel better? Then why did Adrian and I collapse into a heap of tears after we made this video for our class tonight?

***warning*** Images of our beautiful baby in wake in video.

(Watch asap, as the youtube gods might strike it down for having a song on it that I do not own.)

Making this was very emotional but I am pretty pleased wth the result. I wish I had more time to make it more artistic- I would have ideally cut in actual video with the photos. But this is fine.

I hope you all like it. This is pretty terrifying, putting it out there for everyone on the mean cruel internets to see. Please, strangers, be respectful. If you can't say anything nice and you don't like it, click the little tab at the top of the page that says "next blog" or just leave.

Day Nine

2010-10-09T13:11:00.002-05:00

Day 9- a picture taken after your loss.

This is a photograph I took of my belly, postpartum, shortly after Valentina's death, looking down at my belly, from my perspective.

I have a lot of body-hate postpartum. I don't think I would have the same hate had Valentina survived. But because she died inside of me, I blame my own body, her little universe, for failing to keep her safe. When I look at my stomach, at my now-fading stretch marks, it makes me feel sad and angry. (This could have maybe been a photo for yesterday's blog as well.) I didn't mind wrecking my body for my darling daughter... I guess I still don't... but it is a constant daily physical reminder of the pain and heartbreak that took place. As I read from another writer, "its the scene of the crime."

I know people will try and tell me to think of the marks and scars as beautiful, because they were made by Valentina. But honestly, they just make me think of my failure as a mother.

Day Eight

2010-10-08T21:49:00.004-05:00

Day 8 - a photo that makes you angry/sad.

When I took this picture, it was maybe the first time I ever felt... whimsical, after our daughter died. I was six weeks postpartum, and playing my second wedding gig since giving birth. (The one before that, the weekend before, was a DISASTER- turned out the mother of the bride had died in a car accident the day before... one of the bridesmaids fainted during the ceremony and, well, I pretty much burst into tears and created a scene... 5 weeks after delivering my dead daughter. Yup.) Anyway, I was playing a different wedding with my dear friend Karen, and as we were leaving, I saw this guy by our car, preening and looking beautiful. For the first time in six weeks, I was struck with a sense of awe and amusement. I took his picture and posted it on Facebook.

My "ex" best friend "liked" the photo.

The same friend that never said a word to me about Valentina. The friend who was my maid of honor.

This picture now fills me with rage.

Mortality

2010-10-07T23:04:00.001-05:00

Today, we found out that a friend of ours has cancer. He is my husband's age. My husband is even younger than me, he is in his 20s.

I know our friend will be ok. He will have chemo, he will have bone marrow transplants, but he will be ok- they caught it early. And thank god for that. He's a fighter, too.

But once again, I am struck with how fragile we are, and how temporary life is, in the big picture. And how nothing is guaranteed but death.

Sometimes I worry about my own health, despite having been told how healthy I am, in the aftermath of our tragedy. (Despite my weight. I'm one of those "fit obese," an obese person with normal blood pressure, blood sugars, and cholesterol, who can jog 45 mins nonstop.) But more than that, I worry about everyone else. I worry about my husband's health. Our friends. Our parents. Our loved ones. Our future children.

Its easy to obsess about death once you've felt its tiny body growing cold in your arms. I see death everywhere, or at least the opportunity for it. Every intersection I cross through, I can imagine a garbage truck slamming into my car with a giant crunch. Every time I cross the street jogging, I imagine a bus flattening me stealthily, almost gracefully, to a soundtrack of Portishead playing on my ipod. Every staircase is a broken neck waiting to happen, every headache a blood clot ticking away like a bomb in my brain.

Every middle of the night phone call is a death sentence about to be delivered.

But the thing is, we ALL die. Every single one of us. Me, you, the mailman, my students, our lovers, our enemies, the meek, the powerful, we ALL FUCKING DIE. It is inescapable. I like to think I am ok with my own death, my own mortality, but that might just be because I like to imagine myself wilting away like a flower, surrounded by loved ones and gentle nurses.

(Like Valentina?)

But the truth is, death can come at any time. It might be ugly. It might be drawn out... and it might even hurt. A lot. But the bottom line is, well... I hope when all is said and done, there IS something at the end.. a light at the end of the tunnel, with my beautiful girl waiting for me.

I can be ok with that.

Day Seven

2010-10-07T12:19:00.002-05:00

Day 7 - a photo that makes you happy.

I was hesitant to post this picture since it is my first baby bump pic and that is sad in many ways, not happy. But I was SO happy here, despite being sick with morning sickness. I was happy, I was still in good shape, I was naive and excited about our new lives as parents... It just reminds me of a time in which the future was looking absolutely bright and beautiful.

And also... its a picture of me and Valentina. <3

Day Six

2010-10-06T22:14:00.002-05:00

Day 6 - twenty things that calm you.

1. The Richard Strauss station on Pandora : )
2. When the kitties lay on my chest and sleep.
3. Scented candles.
4. Long soaks and talks with the husband in our jacuzzi tub.
5. m_____
6. Nightly back rubs by the husband.
7. Playing familiar music that I love.
8. Jogging to Portishead.
9. Gmailz with Jody. <3
10. Being hugged tightly by Laurie. <3
11. Looking at my tattoo.
12. Painting my nails.
13. Coffee with wonderfully supportive friends.
14. Jocelyn's humor. <3
15. Unexpected BLM notes in the mail. <3
16. When Joseph comes over and just sighs and hugs me.
17. A really strong good cry.
18. Thinking about when Adrian held Valentina for the first time and showed her to me, in the OR.
19. Rachmaninov.
20. Being held by the strongest man I know.

Day Five

2010-10-06T10:48:00.002-05:00

Day 5 - your favorite quote.

Interesting timing for me. I have three.

"Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word; but in the night of death hope sees a star and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing." ~Robert Ingersoll

Robert Ingersoll is a famous agnostic. This is an excerpt from a eulogy he wrote for his brother's passing. I have the last part tattooed on my arm (so does my husband). I was impressed that even an agnostic would hint of angels.

"As for me, I believe that if there's a God — and I am as neutral on the subject as is possible — then the most basic proof of His existence is black humor. What else explains it, that odd, reliable comfort that billows up at the worst moments, like a beautiful sunset woven out of the smoke over a bombed city." ~ Elizabeth McCracken

Adrian and I would have killed ourselves by now if it wasn't for black humor. It has kept us sane in our darkest hours.

And my personal favorite, told to me last night... My husband was telling me his version of Valentina's birth story, and he was talking about seeing me hold Valentina in our room, and how natural we looked together. He said:

"On one hand, I was falling in love with you all over again, and on the other hand... I was just falling."

:'(

Day Four

2010-10-04T15:09:00.002-05:00

Day 4 - your favorite book. has it changed since your loss?

I never really had one favorite book, so I'm just going to talk about the book I love the most, post-stillbirth. Well, the two things I love most, literature-wise.

An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, by Elizabeth McCracken. If you would like to read a sample, here you go.

I have talked about this book so many times in my blog (it was first recommended by Kristin) and I honestly don't feel like going over it all again, but.... its fantastic. Especially for people who are maybe not so religious and maybe even have a potty mouth or a sense of dark humor. Its a memoir of a full-term stillbirth. I wept through this book.... my first real "collapse" was in the bathtub, with this book in hand. Its powerful.

The Gingerbread Girl, by Stephen King. Here's an excerpt.

I've also referenced this short story several times. The story features a woman who leaves her husband after losing her baby to SIDS. I read this story when I was about 16 weeks pregnant. Unfortunately, I massively identified with the character... on everything except the whole losing-a-baby thing. Now I have that too. Anyway, its a heroic tale of survival, and I recommend it to anyone who is not squeamish. : )

Day Three

2010-10-03T17:22:00.002-05:00

Day 3 - a television program that helped you either get through hard times or that moves you.

Hmm this is tricky. Because I have several answers. When V died, we watched a ton of Law and Order SVU. But we watched most of that while I was still pregnant. We probably watched the last season or two AFTER she died, in those early weeks where I was still on hard Hydrocodone, Norco, and Ambien, pretty much existing in a fog. After that was over, we switched to House. House has been really good- I like the nice simple formula, its predictable. I like predictable. (Nothing more unpredictable that a baby just up and dying for no good reason.)

But mostly what REALLY got me through the first few months was.... wait for it...

Real Housewives of New Jersey!!

:D

They are just... so... fascinatingly INSANE. Its hard to think about baby funerals and empty cradles when you hear a shrill Jersey accent screetching in your ear. More than once, did I sit on the couch and drink a whole bottle of wine through an episode. : ) And for that, I thank them.

Day Two

2010-10-03T17:04:00.002-05:00

Day 2 - a movie that helped you get through the hard times, or one that jumps out at you after your loss.

I wouldn't say this movie helped, but it certainly has new meaning for me: What Dreams May Come.

*Spoiler Alert!* Don't read further if you intend to watch this movie.

In the movie, a couple is devastated when their two children are killed in an accident. Some time after this, the husband Chris (Robin Williams) is killed also in an accident. Annie, his wife, kills herself out of overwhelming grief. Annie is sent to "purgatory" where Chris travels (from Heaven) to find and rescue her.

Obviously, we can see why I can relate to this movie. What's odd is that I always related to this movie. ALWAYS. Even though it is a (beautiful) sad movie, it always resonated with me. (Similar to how Stephen King's "The Gingerbread Girl" always resonated too.) I am almost 100% certain that should I ever lose Adrian, I would too end my own life. Anyway, I (subconsciously?) cut my hair when we lost Valentina... I had been growing out, it was so long and beautiful, like Annie's hair in the film (oh yeah, btw, Annie, hello?)... and once we lost V, I had to chop it off. I just happened to pick the same haircut. Life imitates art....

Anyway, all I can really say about this is that I hope there is an afterlife in which we are all reunited.

Day One

2010-10-03T16:46:00.002-05:00

Day 1 - a song that reminds you of your child, or one that you can't listen to anymore and why.

"Goodnight Kiss" by Dream Theater.

Goodnight kiss in your nightgown
Lavender in your bed
So innocent as you lie down
Sweet dreams that run through your head

Are you lonely without Mommy's love?
I want you to know I'd die for that moment
You're just a poor girl
Afraid of this cruel world
Taken away from it all

It's been 5 years to the day and
My tainted blood's still the same
I can't help acting this way and
Those bastard doctors are gonna pay

I'm so lonely without baby's love
I want you to know I'd die for one more moment
I'm just a poor girl
Afraid of this cruel world
Taken away from it all .

First of all, this is an absolutely beautiful song. It held meaning for me even before we lost Valentina. I always thought of my mom while I listened to the song, thought about how much it hurt to not have her around to talk to, how much I missed hugging her and loving her, how much I hated that I never got to know her as an adult woman, and how much she missed out on- meeting and knowing Adrian, my wedding, my pregnancy... Valentina is buried with her now, in the same plot. I could barely sing along to this song without my voice trembling or a sob catching in my throat.

Now the song has taken on a whole new meaning. It is THE ultimate song for losing a child, I think. So much pain and beauty captured in one beautiful song, and an absolutely heart-wrenching guitar solo. I know there are songs out there written about child loss, but honestly, most of them sound so corny to me. This song is a little "over the top" for its genre (progressive rock) but I think it is absolutely perfect for those mourning their own child. I mean, babyloss itself is pretty over the top, no?

There are other songs that bring a little heartbreak... Portishead's "The Rip" is one, it makes me feel very very sad and lonely. There's a Royksopp song that I cannot listen to; I can't remember the name, but I used it to make my first home video with our shiny new Flip camera my dad got us for my baby shower... The video was a video showing off Valentina's nursery. I can't listen to it anymore. There are others too, classical pieces... Ravel's "Pavane for a Dead Princess" (self-explanatory, I think). And Ravel's "Mother Goose Suite" is another tough one- I performed this when I was about 18/20 weeks pregnant with Valentina; It was especially heartstring-tuggy back then because I thought of it as nursery music for her; now the thought of having to perform it again some day makes me ill.

As a musician, music in general is hard. Anything beautiful, anything nostalgic, it all brings me to tears when in the context of Valentina. I find that when I play beautiful things now, I have to steel myself up to do so. I have to be hard inside so I can get my job done. Its very difficult.

30 Day Writing Challenge

2010-10-03T11:51:00.003-05:00

As most of you know, this 30 day writing challenge is floating around the blogosphere. I am a meme-lover, so this is right up my alley. Not to mention I could use something to write about in this blog that isn't just me talking about how much my life sucks. : )

I will preemptively apologize for the flood of blog entries you are about to see in your feed- I am playing catch up. : ) <3

Will some of you consider joining me for the 30 days?

Day 1 - a song that reminds you of your child, or one that you can't listen to anymore and why.
Day 2 - a movie that helped you get through the hard times, or one that jumps out at you after your loss.
Day 3 - a television program that helped you either get through hard times or that moves you.
Day 4 - your favorite book. has it changed since your loss?
Day 5 - your favorite quote.
Day 6 - twenty things that calm you.
Day 7 - a photo that makes you happy.
Day 8 - a photo that makes you angry/sad.
Day 9 - a photo you took since your loss.
Day 10 - a photo taken over 10 years ago of you and how it makes you feel seeing it now.
Day 11 - a photo of you recently and how it makes you feel seeing it now.
Day 12 - something you are OCD about.
Day 13 - a fictional book that is meaningful to you since your loss.
Day 14 - a non-fictional book that is meaningful to you since your loss.
Day 15 - what you like about your house.
Day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly).
Day 17 - an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc) that moves you.
Day 18 - my wedding/future wedding/past wedding.
Day 19 - a talent of yours.
Day 20 - a hobby of yours and how it changed since your loss.
Day 21 - a recipe.
Day 22 - a website that has been meaningful since your loss.
Day 23 - a youtube video that makes you laugh.
Day 24 - where you live
Day 25 - your day, in great detail
Day 26 - your week, in great detail
Day 27 - your worst habit since your child's death.
Day 28 - what's in your handbag/purse
Day 29 - hopes, dreams, and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 - a dream for the future

Terrible

2010-09-29T19:48:00.002-05:00

Today is TERRIBLE. Absolutely terrible.

Started the day off fighting with a best friend. Finished the day off by sobbing (the kind of sobbing where your face is contorted and you can't breathe out your nose) on the couch after receiving just TOO many blows to the heart, one after another today. Saddest part is its not even 8pm; so much more can still go wrong.

I feel so utterly misunderstood. In every way. By so many people. It is such a horrible horrible feeling to feel this alone. This rejected. I can see myself withdrawing from everyone around me, steeling myself up for the next blow, putting an iron cage around my heart so it can't be broken any more. I feel like a leper. I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster with no brakes, just a wild ride that's getting faster and faster and more frightening and dangerous with every turn.

I have such conflicting feelings. I want to be left alone, I want everyone to just fuck off and stop talking to me, stop acting like my friend, stop being my friend. Just go. Just let me be alone and unhappy. But I also want to be held, to be comforted. I want to be accepted. I want to be liked and loved and appreciated. But mostly, I just want to disappear. Just completely vanish, just stop existing. Just like that, like a puff of smoke. Poof. Gone.

I wish I could just explode in a white flame. Spontaneously combust. I wonder... of the rare cases of spontaneous human combustion, did those people happen to hold their dead children in their arms at some point? I wouldn't be surprised. I feel like every fiber in my body is tingling, like its on fire, and the fire will spread through my skin and through my veins and every limb and finger and toe and head until I just explode.

Its impossible for me to get understanding at this point. I feel so utterly alone.

Five Months

2010-09-27T21:52:00.002-05:00

Five long months. Five months of missing you. Five months of dreaming of what could have been, should have been. Five months of heartache. Five months of living in this strange new body with these strange new feelings. Five months since I died with sweet Valentina.

Friends have come and gone. I have met so many incredibly inspiring and beautiful people. I have lost the friendship of others. I know more about pregnancy, conception, and death than I ever cared to. I know what autopsies look like. I know the difference between stillbirths and miscarriages and neonatal death. I know statistics, they are burned into my mind and my heart.

It is very hard to not equate my precious Valentina with death. When I think of death, I think of her. I think of hearing "no heartbeat." I think of holding a sleeping baby. I think of a chapel filled with pink roses and teddy bears. I think of screaming into a pillow in the middle of the night.

I want Valentina to be more than that. She IS more than that. She wasn't just a dream shattered, a heart broken. She was a beautiful little life, vibrant and warm. She was my little tummy heater. She was a person who loved mint chocolate chip ice cream and Otto Von Shirack. She was the sweet little baby, playing with her ear and her feet on the 4D ultrasound. She was the cutie pie who loved to sit her toes on mamas ribs, right there on the right side, making me unable to breathe or move. : ) She was the precious little angel sucking her thumb on the ultrasound at 25 weeks. She was the physical manifestation of the love that Adrian and I share.

I don't believe that all of this had a reason. I also don't believe that more good will come from it than bad. But I do know that Valentina deserves to be celebrated. I love you, sweet baby, I love you so much and mommy misses you SO MUCH.

Failure

2010-09-26T17:13:00.002-05:00

I've always said I wouldn't hold anything back so here, I'm not going to:

At this moment, today, I feel like maybe its good that Valentina was spared having to be raised by people like us, people who don't have their shit together.

I can't do anything right. I can't make anything right. I feel like a complete failure today.

White Heart, Black Heart

2010-09-25T17:30:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to repost a link to my new blog, White Heart, Black Heart. I'd like to think I am writing some pretty cool stuff there lol! Ok maybe not, but there is definitely a lot going on there that babyloss moms in particular may empathize with, even if its not directly babyloss related.

Warning- probably gonna drop more f-bombs there than in here. : )

Blog Award! :D

2010-09-25T16:59:00.003-05:00

OMG! I was nominated by two lovely ladies, Amber and Elaine!! :D Thank you so much girls! So, to pass on the love, here are my nominations:

Here are the rules:
1. Accept the award and post it on your blog with the name of the person who has granted the award and his/her blog link.
2. Pay it forward to 10 other bloggers that you have newly discovered.
3. Contact those blog owners and let them know they have been chosen.

1. Kristin at Dear Stevie...
2. Car at Hello Goodbye
3. Dana at Searching for Ladybugs
4. Melissa at Angel Baby Alexandra
5. Desiree at ...journey to motherhood
6. Hannah at Rose and her Lily
7. Jessica at Epic Fail
8. Julie at My Sweet Kenny
9. Danae at Our Journey to Bailey & Beyond
10. Kalialani at The Butterfly Room

Babyloss Sister

2010-09-24T22:25:00.002-05:00

I think Valentina sent me a new friend. : )

I spent almost three hours at Starbucks last night with a fellow babyloss mom. I met my friend Laurie on Facebook; her beautiful daughter Madeline spent two days in the NICU after a placental abruption and then passed. We met IRL at my new support group. We spent almost three hours talking about everything- our stories, our daughters, our hospital stays, our fears, dreams, horrors.. It was incredible, not only to talk to someone face to face about the things only we can (funerals, the clothes we wore to the hospital) but to talk to someone who experienced a similar loss AND WHO REALLY CLICKS WITH ME TOO!

It was amazing to be able to speak so freely and not feel like I was saying too much or being too dark or whatever. To be able to just stare into someone else's eyes, both of you brimming with tears, and it is not awkward. It was so completely unselfconscious.

I hope that its just the start of many coffee dates/girly hangoutage/couple's hangoutage (her husband is really cool too). : )

Triggers

2010-09-22T22:27:00.002-05:00

We talked about triggers in group last night. I can think of a whole bunch of them. Here are a couple:

- I bought some new face soap tonight, just in case we are pregnant. It is Burt's Bees Tomato soap; I used it throughout my pregnancy with Valentina because it helped my acne (I got bad acne with V). When I unwrapped the package and wet the bar, the scent flooded me back to Halloween last year, when I was about oh 14 weeks pregnant or so and we took a trip to San Angelo with our friend Mike to see his band play. I remember washing my face in the hotel room we all shared, I remember the smell, and my small baby bump and how magical I felt to be a mama.
- We drove through our old neighborhood the other night to get some tasty mexican food at our old favorite place. I saw the old house, where V's heart probably stopped beating. The old sidewalks Adrian and I walked every night through the first two trimesters (before my SPD got really bad). The old HEB where Adrian would hunt down cocoa puffs and strawberry cake mix for my cravings. The CVS where I got an incorrect high blood pressure reading that sent me to L&D (too bad it was wrong... they could have delivered her then... and then who knows what...) The whole part of town is a trigger.

The whole world sometimes feels like a trigger waiting to happen. I'm also just really good at connecting things in mind- I can probably take any object or situation and make it about Valentina. :P She is just so ever present in my mind.

Especially tonight. Mama misses you so much, baby. I wish I could hold you and kiss your sweet little head.

New Blog

2010-09-22T14:49:00.002-05:00

I have started a new blog called White Heart, Black Heart. This is going to be a new place I can discuss my internal battles and victories that aren't necessarily "Valentina things." I'm going to be very raw and honest there... its not really a place for "babyloss" things, so if the rest of my personality grates on you, best to just stay here. : ) I will not be offended if you don't follow the blog!! I realize that although many of us have one horrible thing in common, there are MANY things we don't.

I hope I get some new followers, and I hope you enjoy the peek into my inner workings. <3

Portishead - The Rip

2010-09-21T18:06:00.002-05:00

Today, on my walk, this song made me burst into tears. Visualizing the hospital, the tears, the screaming into pillows... Its so very beautiful and makes my soul ache.

To turn off page music, scroll to bottom of my blog and pause the player.

The Retreat

2010-09-21T14:57:00.002-05:00

I read everyone's blogs. ALL OF THEM! But I don't comment very often. I just feel like there is nothing I can say or do other than echo the same thing: "Me too." "It sucks." "I'm so sorry." "I'm in tears." And I MEAN those things, but they just don't seem enough... they feel dumb and shallow, especially when compared to the actual entry, which is always some emotional heartfelt thing, an outpouring of emotion, someone's innermost darkest thoughts... and I just say "me too." It feels lame.

This is what I REALLY want to do for you all... I want to get someone like Oprah to fund a trip for us, a retreat where we can spend a week away from bills and work and stress and real life and just do the things we all really need and want to do. While on our retreat we can:

- Shoot massive massive guns at a range. We have the option of writing/drawing whatever we want on the targets, no judgments.
- Smash things in a Smashing Range. A special area where we are fitted with padded clothes and goggles and given a baseball bat to just whack at tons of breakable stuff... Vases, windows, tvs, sonogram machines...
- A Collapse room filled with pillows and bean bag chairs and padded walls. We go in there when we just need to fall down on the floor and wail and beat the pillows and walls.
- A Cuddle Room. A room specifically for us to congregate when we need someone to hold our hands, hold US. Nothing has to be said in this room, you just walk in and find a partner to hug. Best part is not having to explain yourself.
- 24/7 massage therapist staff ready and waiting to rub us for a minimum of one hour. There's also a mimosa service that delivers to you there.
- A giant media library free of all pregnant women, babies, and children. Babyloss safe movies, magazines, books.
- The Its Fucked Up Room. A dark room with walls covered in paper that we can go and write all the things that are fucked up on (for example, you can write: "I'll never get to hear her cry." or "I had to pick out a casket for my baby.") At the end of the retreat, we tear down all the paper and put it in the center of the room, in a pit, and burn it.

THAT is what I want to do for you guys. For myself. I want to take you there.

Wilted

2010-09-20T23:39:00.002-05:00

**ttc triggers**

Today, I feel pretty much hit by a truck. Exhausted, achy, feverish, wilted... and crampy. I wouldn't be surprised if I caught something mingling with so many new faces at the symphony last week... but it also reminds me of another time I felt hit by a truck, while waiting for some good news...

Its probably too soon to feel anything that means anything. But I can't help but wonder if there is magic going on down there. We will know pretty soon... but...

I have to admit. I am more scared than excited at this particular moment in time. Nothing is ever guaranteed, as I learned in the worst possible way. When people find out you are pregnant, they always say "congratulations!!" not "oh boy, hope it sticks... not only do I hope it sticks, I hope you make it to full term... and then I hope you make it safely through delivery... and beyond..." I will never feel the same euphoric delight at two pink lines. Two pink lines is not just the beginning of a beautiful story... it can be the beginning of a heartbreaking story. And that... is a horrible thing that I know firsthand.

:\

Newborn

2010-09-19T13:22:00.004-05:00

I feel like a newborn deer, struggling awkwardly to stand on my own legs, wobbling and stumbling through this new life...

I spent the last four days or so playing with a symphony out of town. I was pretty much thrown into some serious social interaction. Meeting lots of new people, explaining my tattoo to more than half of them, going to meals in groups of 6-10 people... Very very terrifying stuff for a babyloss mama. Every conversation felt like a land mine waiting to go off- all that was needed to trigger it was a simple question: "Do you have kids?" Thankfully, that question never came up, but the subject came up many times. At one point, at one meal, I suddenly became very aware that every single conversation around the very large table was about pregnancy and babies- who is pregnant, who just had babies, how wonderful daughters are... I had one of those Six Feet Under moments where I thought I might just stand up and scream. But I didn't- I just had a mild panic attack (racing heart, shaking hands, hard to breathe...) and took a trip to the ladies room, hopefully unobtrusively.

No matter what my friends assure me of, I feel like the Most Awkward Person Ever. Everything about me is a buzzkill. And completely unattractive. I am fat, flabby bellied from pregnancy, covered in stretch marks, tired, awkward, the Queen of Uncomfortable Silences, insecure... the list goes on and on. And I hate that.

I'm a new person. Old Me died with Valentina, this is a fact. But I don't know who New Me is just yet... I'm still acquainting myself with her. Trying new foods to see if she likes them (mushrooms). Listening to new music (Jay Z). New forms of exercise (long walks). A new way of smiling. Laughing. I feel like a stranger in my own flabby skin. Its very unsettling. I am a newborn adult. Not RE-born... that sounds too positive. Just a new me. I don't know if I even like her yet... I kind of suspect that I don't. She's too weird and uncomfortable, and she holds eye contact without talking for too long. Her laugh sounds strained. She looks tired.

**Edited to Add:** Would you believe I even talked to two different pregnant women about their pregnancies? And didn't completely fall apart? I think I need a fucking medal for that one. : )

Cycle of Life

2010-09-15T15:33:00.002-05:00

Today, I feel as though death surrounds me. This afternoon, I learned that an old college roommate of mine lost her husband- he died suddenly in their home of unknown causes. He was 38. And now, she is a 28 year old widow. I was heartbroken to hear of such a devastating tragedy. None of us are strangers to devastating tragedy, huh?

Having listened to the harrowing stories of loss at the babyloss support group last night, and then today's bad news, its easy to feel as though death is everywhere. And, well, it is. It is a fact and a part of life. Losing the people we love is a horrible horrible awful fucked up and cruel part of life, I think especially when it is so sudden and unexpected. (Babies shouldn't die... young husbands shouldn't die... it seems so unnatural.)

And just like death surrounds us, so does new life. So many of my girlfriends are pregnant now. Everywhere I go, the pregnant women pop out at me like blinding neon Vegas lights. Sometimes, the new life hurts me. Because I carried new life. I created new life in my womb, I carried it for nine months lovingly, and then it abruptly flickered out. And the cycle was complete. So unfairly complete. Every giant rounded belly, lovingly caressed by a mother's hand, every "I'm PREGNANT!!" on Facebook is salt in the wound. Because Valentina's cycle is over. And its so cruel.

But, just as I am working on coming to terms with death, I am working on coming to terms with new life. I have to- we are trying to create it again ourselves. But its not just for me. Its for the rest of the world. I don't want beautiful pregnant bellies to make me sad. I don't want that kind of a life. I have always been an optimistic person, always tried to be positive and hopeful, everyone's cheerleader.

Yes, I have changed. Losing Valentina has forever altered the person I am. But I think the person I am is still the kind of person who can learn to just live life and love life- even when it hurts. And I'm ready to accept the darkness with the dawn.

We Survived!

2010-09-14T22:09:00.002-05:00

We survived our first session of group therapy!

The group is a small group of couples, mostly couples who have gone through stillbirth. I'm not going to talk about the contents of session much, unless its my own words/thoughts, so I'm not violating anyone's privacy. But it was just SO NICE to share stories and feelings with other couples FACE TO FACE. The internet has been incredible, putting all of us sisters together... We have been able to find others we connect with, share stories, share tears. And its wonderful- but its really great to do all of that and then HUG at the end. I think its going to be a really good thing for us. And I'd love to walk away with a friend or two when its all over.

I do wonder how our TTC journey will affect group sessions... If we are extremely lucky, we will be pregnant before the group sessions are over (its a six week "course"). I know some of the others have issues about TTC that are not resolved (ha, like any of us who lost a baby don't have issues about having another pregnancy!) and I worry about negatively affecting them. That might be something to bring up to the group leader.

Thank you all for your prayers and good vibes sent to us tonight. <3 Now send us some sticky babydust! :D

Awkwardly Fumbling Through Healing

2010-09-13T14:51:00.005-05:00

My tattoo is done! : )

I just absolutely adore it. It tells the story for me, so I don't have to awkwardly stumble around as much. I catch strangers staring at it and reading it all the time. I wonder what they think? I wonder if they assume its a child of mine, or if they just don't know? (They might think I'm too young to have lost a child.... lol is that wishful thinking?)

Adrian and I decided to re-watch all of the seasons of Six Feet Under. I have a feeling it is going to... be a good accompaniment for our grieving process. For example, watching the pilot... the way Ruth reacts to Nathan's death... I'd be a bold faced liar if I said it wasn't a familiar sight. Even just typing those words made my throat close up with emotion. I wonder if any of the episodes dealt with babyloss? I don't remember... I guess we will find out.

Tomorrow we are attending our first ever support group for stillbirth. I am VERY nervous. As everyone knows who reads, I am NOT good at social interaction these days, and meeting new people is simply too overwhelming for me. And tomorrow night I will sit in a room with a group of strangers and tell them "our story." I am really good at talking about myself and my experience online... where no one can hear my voice tremble... but in person.. I am going to feel so vulnerable. Please send me your strength tomorrow evening!

One Year Ago

2010-09-10T11:37:00.003-05:00

I have been putting off this post all week. (Well, to be fair, I've had a busy week.)

One year ago this week, my husband came home from tour with Blue October. I picked him up from the airport, and within three minutes of entering our house, I took a pregnancy test and our lives were eternally altered.

Adrian and I both cried with joy. We did the unconventional thing and immediately informed everyone in the planet. I posted a picture of the positive pregnancy test on Facebook. : ) Our first trip out of the house was to buy What To Expect When You're Expecting. We were over the moon.

I remember talking about it at work the next day or two, and my boss expressing surprise that I was sharing the news so early in the pregnancy. (Five weeks.) I told him that 1- I can't keep a secret worth a DAMN! lol. And 2- if anything happened, I'd be telling everyone at work anyway, we are like one big happy dysfunctional family.

One year later, I have gone through a nine month pregnancy. I heard the devastating news that our baby's heart stopped beating. I labored unsuccessfully for 22 hours. I delivered a 7lb 9 oz beautiful girl, with my chin, my lips, Adrian's nose, my ears, and a full head of dark hair. We buried her. My husband eulogized her. I hugged an impossibly tiny coffin.

One year later, we learned that it doesn't matter how long you wait to tell the good news- tragedy can strike at any moment. And for no reason at all.

One year later, we are starting down the same path. We are not the same blissfully naive couple. We are brusied, battered, heartbroken, but determined to keep hope alive.

You're Still Here

2010-09-09T23:37:00.003-05:00

I know I'm not an easy person to get along with any more.

I am grumpy. I am awkward. I laugh weird now, like too loud and too weird. I kill the mood in a room the second I walk in. No one can bitch about their problems to me because I apparently hold the title to Right To Bitch. No one can bitch about their kids. I'm GRUMPY. Irritable. Moody. A little too lovey dovey awkward, and a little too serious too. A little... off.

And that's what makes those of you who are sticking around even better. : ) I don't blame the people who are going to drift away, honestly- I am a new person now, not the same person they were friends with before, and that's gotta be weird. But those of you who ARE still here... still making me laugh, still poking me to come over or go out... those who have heard the Crazy inside my head, and STILL love me fiercely...

Thank you. I love you so much. <3

Members Only

2010-09-07T14:08:00.002-05:00

It was bound to happen- when you surround yourself with dozens of new sisters who have lost what, in many cases, was the beginning of a dream (making a family), of COURSE sooner or later, one by one, people will start to make the dream happen again.

So many of my ladies are getting pregnant. And its WONDERFUL! It truly is. : ) But, I am ashamed to say, with each new announcement, I feel a momentary wash of jealousy. And I feel terrible about it!

Because we lost Valentina when she was already to term, we had to wait a minimum of three months to start trying again. We would have started in August, but we had vacation planned right after my fertile days, and we wanted to be able to really relax and drink and stuff without worrying about affecting an embryo. So that meant September would be the first month of trying to conceive baby #2.

Meanwhile, a LOT of you ladies got pregnant this last month. Some of you didn't have to wait as long to conceive, or some of you had been trying for a while now, longer than I knew you. I want to join the club! :(

I cry with happiness every time I hear a new announcement from the babylost moms... and I also cry a little bit for myself. Mostly out of fear. When we decided to have a baby, we nailed it on the first try. We were shocked at how well our reproductive parts apparently worked! There's no reason for us to believe this time will be any different. I've already proven myself to be a Fertile Myrtle. Even so, I am petrified that I will NOT be able to get pregnant quickly, or even ever again. Now that I've been hit upside the head with the ass end of the statistics stick, I have to assume I am no longer safe from any risk.

I also fear the obvious- that we WILL get pregnant, and then we will lose the baby. At any stage. Its terrifying. I am uncertain of how I will react once (if) I become pregnant. Will I be swept up in excitement and hope and optimism? Or will I be paralyzed with anxiety and fear? Or something in between? And for that matter, what about ADRIAN? How will HE take the next nine months after those two pink lines? What about our families? Our friends? Acquaintances?

I absolutely shudder at the thought of all the insensitive comments/well-meaning advice I am going to get for the longest nine months of my life. I predict it will be EPIC.

You know, a lot of people say Mariah Carey is being a diva for not admitting she is pregnant, when she is obviously at LEAST halfway to term. I venture to say she might be a BLM who is just protecting herself.

Babyloss Dads Unite?

2010-09-07T00:30:00.001-05:00

Would any of your husbands/significant others be interested in talking with other men who've suffered a loss? Let me know... I'd be interested to see if our guys could benefit from relating to other men.

Odd One Out

2010-09-05T21:17:00.003-05:00

I'm a faker. I got so good at it and so used to it that I kind of forgot I was doing it for a while there. Faking what? Normalcy.

Maybe its more accurate to say I am sometimes good at it. Because I'm really not. I feel like a person who has to steel herself up for every encounter- EVERY SINGLE ENCOUNTER. I have gotten so used to gathering all my guts up and taking a deep breath, pasting on a big smile, that I even fooled myself into thinking I am doing just great.

I guess technically, I am. I'm optimistic about the future. I'm excited about trying to have another baby. I feel good about the life choices I've been making, happy with the people I am surrounding myself with, pleased with the progress I've made and the mere fact that I am alive, surviving, LAUGHING and smiling, singing along to the radio. Enjoying a breezy walk with my husband.

But technically... It is still HARD. Its not that things are any easier- its just that I have gotten USED to how difficult things are. Sometimes, I am just too weary and tired and frustrated, anxious or sad to really do anything but sulk. Even small talk can feel like a monumental task. Social situations are almost unbearable unless they are one on one. I feel too weird, too different. I feel like I have a "dead baby mama alert" sign on my forehead, and that it is all people think about when they are with me.

I hate divisive thinking. I don't consider Dead Baby Mama Land to be an Us vs. Them type of thing. But I DO feel so ALONE! And it is no fault of anyone- no one means to make me feel strange, and I certainly don't hold on to my grief and put it in between myself and others... I just truly feel downright FREAKISH. Its almost like the dreams where you are in school and you have no clothes on- I feel naked and exposed and ashamed.

I wonder if I will always feel like the odd one out?

The Unfriend

2010-09-05T12:20:00.002-05:00

Its a sad fact that I think every single one of us babyloss moms has lost a friend (or more than one) since our babies died. It is a shameful fact that there are people who are SO uncomfortable with death, especially the unspeakable death of a baby, that they feel like it is appropriate to simply vanish from our lives. Or never say a word to acknowledge it.

I have a friend who hasn't breathed a word to me about Valentina. Well, I have several. But THIS is why she's different: She was my maid of honor. I was in her wedding. We have known each other since the first day of 6th grade. She knows all my dirty laundry and I know all of hers. Yes, we had drifted apart in the last year. But the last contact I had with her was telling her I was pregnant, and she telling me that she didn't want us to lose touch. And in the wonderful world of Facebook (ha), there is no WAY she wouldn't be able to stay in touch. Hell, merely 8 weeks after Valentina died, she "liked" a photograph I posted. No, not Valentina's name in the sand or some other memorial. A photograph of a peacock I took. Among all the grief I so publicly displayed, all the sadness, the anger, the fist-shaking at God, the memorial photographs- this is the sole communication she has had with me since my very reason for living vanished. She "likes" my peacock.

So of course I did the ultimate- I "unfriended" her on Facebook. I'm sure she hasn't even noticed. She probably "hid" me during my pregnancy anyway, annoyed with my endless stream of baby chat and labor watch. But you'd think that at least once in the last four months she would have bothered to wonder "has she had that baby yet?" and checked on my page. Even if you aren't a Facebook friend, you can still see my info, and that I had a stillborn daughter. And for MOST people, even if you are no longer much in touch, that sad news would push you to at least send an email of "I'm so sorry." MOST people.

I don't even know why I care to post about this today. Or why I am so angry. I will look at her Facebook, read her asinine wall statuses... and just seethe that she is so completely obliviously self-absorbed to 1- even care about her (ex) friend's dead child or 2- put whatever stick she had up her ass about me aside to send a simple "I'm sorry for your loss." Then I start thinking cruel thoughts- I notice that I have absolutely NO idea who any of the people posting on her wall are, and I think, "Yup, a whole new set of friends, yet again, because she can't be bothered to keep a friend longer than a couple of years."

I'm so ANGRY with her. I knew she wasn't a perfect friend (hell, I'm not either)- but I thought even she wasn't this low.

Handle With Care

2010-09-04T13:11:00.002-05:00

Today I was walking in my neighborhood when I passed a woman pushing an infant in a swing in her yard. She smiled and cooed at him, and then she turned and smiled a big beautiful smile at me. I smiled back, probably with more than a hint of sadness, and looked away quickly.

This is a typical daily experience for us babyloss moms, amirite?

When I looked away, it suddenly occurred to me that she could probably see my tattoo, as it is on the arm that was facing her, and well, its GIANT. I wonder if she actually did, and if she saw that obviously Valentina is an angel and no longer with us? I wonder if she wondered if that was MY baby, and if that was why I looked kind of sad?

I am glad that I have an external "badge" that can hint at what I have been through. Its ALMOST as good as the tshirt we all so desperately wanted in those early brutal days. : ) Maybe people will see it, read it, think about it, and then treat me with a little more tenderness.

I sure hope so. Because for some reason, today, I am feeling fragile.

Healing

2010-09-03T12:44:00.002-05:00

I've been pretty absent from the internet. Even this blog. I think I just don't have much to say these days.. :( When I'm not spending all my waking free time on Facebook, getting riled up by people's judgments or insensitive words, I suddenly find myself kind of blissfully BORED. Its both a very nice change of pace and really dull. : )

AF came this week, which was sort of a let down, but not a big surprise. This month marks the first month of our official TTC journey... we should know by Adrian's birthday at the end of the month if we are having another May baby or not.

Life feels like its going through a big transition, especially on a day like today with rain clouds overhead. The season is changing. The orchestral season is back in full swing. (I have survived awkward encounters with colleagues at gigs who haven't seen me since we lost Valentina.) I spend less time online and more time face to face. Adrian and I made it past the ugly August financial slump that occurs every year. I am finally just looking fat and not so much pregnant.

Every day is feeling more and more normal. And I am feeling a general sense of contentedness. It makes me feel both awful and relieved- awful that I'm not weeping daily for Valentina, relieved that I am perhaps even "healing" and learning to accept my life as it is.

And perhaps the strangest part is how I feel about TTC... I feel positive, I feel optimistic, and I am excited. As a babyloss mom, aren't I supposed to be terrified and unsure and broken up about the next pregnancy? Maybe I will be, once its a reality... but right now, I just cannot wait to be pregnant again. And I DO feel (please God don't strike this down) like we will actually have a successful pregnancy and delivery. Is is just because I can't bear to think the outcome would be another tragic one? Is it denial? Am I protecting myself from the possibility? I don't care. I just want to do this again. I want to try.