Putting it out there

It's nearly February which means it's time to post my new years resolutions... Oh wait. It's now late March and I'm the worst blogger ever. It's official. :)

The snow is melting around us and warmer weather is apparently on the way. I keep hearing that, but every time I try to run errands without a coat I curse the weather man. He's a liar ;).

It is nearly April and this means it is nearly May and nearly a certain someone's first birthday. I can hardly believe it. It really doesn't seem like it was all that long ago I first peed on a stick, then saw her little self on ultrasound at just a few weeks gestation. I'm not all that removed from that drive home where I spoke aloud to her in my womb begging her to please come home with us and stay. Begging that she would help to make me whole again.

Here we are, nearly a year after she arrived. It's insane. I was recounting to my mother the other day that I can hardly believe we've had her for so long. In those early days I used to beg for the first six months to pass because I feared I would lose her in infancy, too. Somehow six months seemed "safe", even though I know there's really never anytime that I believe I'll ever be "safe" again.

Sometimes when I awake in the early in the morning, my mind still foggy, I ask myself whether I have a son or a daughter. How f'd up is that? I guess it's a sleep-thing, but yet I find I'm asking myself this same question. Ugh.

Grace is finally (at nearly 11 months!!!) getting her first tooth. It's sharp and pointy and on the bottom left side of her mouth. I first discovered it whilst nursing her and thus we are going full-steam ahead with the weaning process. I've been pretty laisse-faire about it and was going to just let her wean herself, but with my return to work taking place in just about six weeks (!!!!) time is more of the essence than ever. I could pump for her, but she's really only nursing about once per side per day so it doesn't seem worthwhile at this point... I will say, I'm really at a loss for how else to comfort her once nursing is off the table- it really has been so useful ;)

I have a few things I've left in "draft" in the ole blog for a while, but so much has changed since I've written those words, some of my "resolutions" have been completed or I've chosen to go in another direction all together. I'm including them anyways because I still think I'm hilarious it's relevant.

1) Gain 25lbs. Well, first I want to lose ten, but only to regain those pounds in the near future because I want another one of these McCannells. BADLY. I have baby-fever (the only acceptable fever to have as far as I'm concerned), and I also desperately want to hoard babies. You know how you can spend forever looking for the perfect pair of jeans and you finally find them and WHAMMO, they're on sale. If you're anything like me,  you instantly start justifying buying 5 pairs so you never have to live another day without them ever again. Put some away for a rainy day, because nothing makes you feel better than a good pair of jeans?

Yeah, I'm like that, but with my children.  I think Scott and I have agreed on having another two at this point. I'd like to have so many, but I know I'd be chasing my desire to get my boy and of course he can never be mine again so at some point we have to stop, right? And yet the mere thought of the next baby being our last is too much for me to even contemplate so I'm glad we're at least agreeable to another two.

It sounds cavalier to write all that, but the truth is I'm absolutely terrified to risk it all again.. And yet the desire still outweighs my fears, not sure when that happened, but it's there. I'm hoping I can avoid Clomid this time around, but who knows what is going to happen (or not, as the case may be).

2) Start (and finish?) decorating Grace's bedroom. Because we've lived here nine months and there is nary a drip of paint or a curtain hung in here. I did make some headway here recently and purchased the paint for her nursery (and the trim throughout the house... and the dining room which was inspired by the colour Young House Love just re-painted their kitchen...) So yeah, I need to get on that. I have big plans for Grace's room, and it's inspired by this:

Source: sarahrichardsondesign.com via LJ on PInterest

                                                                Source: somedaycrafts.blogspot.com via LJ on Pinterest

The actual decor stuff you've seen in my prior post about selling our house- the furniture stays the same. Up until this point, Grace has been sleeping in our room. She's been in the crib at the end of our bed, and also co-sleeping far more than I would like. I know I need to move her to her own room so we all sleep well, but I've refused to do this until her room is painted, decorated, and basically fit for her consumption. The husband thinks I'll regret moving her. Me thinks I'll regret not moving her if I don't start getting more sleep- especially when I begin my HOUR plus commute in six weeks. Ugh.

3) Make my house beautimous. In the words of Honey Boo Boo, I want to take a dolla and make it holla... WHAT? I want to make my house a pretty, comfortable, lovely home. I have big expensive plans for decorating, and now I just need to start making them happen. Slowly, slowly, slowly we'll get there. I started this resolution by buying wallpaper for the powder room. It's black and dramatic and terrifying, but it's all about baby-steps. I'd like a backsplash in the kitchen and some new countertops too. We'll see how far we get. Feel free to check out my Pinterest board (linky above) to see what I'm scheming.

4) Get organized. Because we have lots of storage room in our new house, I end up jamming things into cupboards and forgetting about it. I need to get organized. And my closet? It's shameful-especially since Pinterest tells me how cheap (!) and easy (!) and better (!) it can be! How embarrassing.

5) Eat up the last three months  weeks of maternity leave with Grace. These past 9.75 10.99 months have flown by.

There, four months into the new year and I have my resolutions listed. And I've now hit publish on my post for the month...

Random... ha.

The Everyday

There are times, where I just sit here and think about it; Birthing him, cuddling him, taking him home, and then losing him, coming home empty-handed... I just can't believe that all really happened. I can't believe we're here still and he's not. I can't believe I have his little sister and she's beautiful and amazing and absolutely the light of our lives. And that this is our lives.

I just can't believe I have to keep living this life day in and day out, for the rest of my life. The life where my first born lived and died... It's a nightmare that plays out on a perpetual loop- "My baby died, my baby died".

I meet new people- I'm making friends in our new community! I always feel on guard though until they know about my son, about Jack... I feel like I'm waiting to drop a bomb on people- their response to my words (his story) dictating as to whether I should invest any further in sustaining a relationship.  And they have no idea that I'm almost expecting them to say something upsetting because I've heard it all before.  So far I've been lucky, but I still can't help but wish it wasn't my story, you know? Like I wish I could tell the story of "someone I know" or "my sister's friend's aunt"... I hate that "we" are those stories told over breaths held and thoughts of "thank God that's not me".

Ugh.

My heart breaks for people who are new to all of this. And for people who don't feel like they can talk about their child, because I speak of him all the time. His story is laced within the fabric of my life now... Stories I tell, they are the way there are because he lived. Because he died. There are caveats and (logical?) reasoning behind statements and decisions and they are because of him. Grace born as a c-section because he was one too... I can't explain why she was a c-section without mentioning he is the reason.. And I can't explain why she was a c-section at 37w4 without explaining that I freaked out and couldn't handle the stress of it all anymore because of him. Because we lost him and everything is because of him. So I mention him all the time because he is the reason for so many seemingly little details of my life. And because I'm proud of who he was and all he should have been. I fully intend for Grace to know about her brother and hope she's one day proud to carry his name as hers middle name.

Polka dot diaper and leggings

Somedays I am so thrilled to be able to mother her living, ever present self that I want a million more just like the two I've had. Except, you know, living. I could honestly hoard babies and would do so if it I weren't so terrified to lose another. I want to go back to the time where I believed my fertility were a given- as though I was the most fertile thing ever to walk the Earth... I want to go back to the ways in which I truly believed he would get here and we would keep him and we would live a perfect life in a house on a hill and there was never anything I could ever really ask for.  That people would look at my husband and I and our perfect little family and think that we got REALLY lucky! I guess, in theory, people may still look at us that way, with no idea we should have a big boy alongside our little lady.

The reality of the situation is that we would like another couple of children ( I would like a million, but there's not time for that...), and I hope to have the guts to do it again soon. I would love to be here a year from now and have another baby to show for my efforts. Boy or girl, it doesn't matter in the least- just here and healthy.

I'm going to end this post now because I have a silly post to put up in a couple days with my new years resolutions... Noting it's nearly March, it appears I'm right on schedule. ha!

One last thing, my friend Brandy wrote a terrific post about literature and the role it plays in processing grief. It got picked up for syndication by the BlogHer Publishing network- I can't think of any better way to get people to take note of infant loss/still birth/ miscarriage than for articles to be readily available through networks like this. One way to make sure these types of things get posted to larger networks is for it to be known there is an audience for this material, so if you haven't already, please head over and comment so they know it's an important topic! Thanks!

Okay, okay, more photos of Grace. Your wish is my command. ;)

Grace's Dolly House

Nine months with our leg rolls daughter

Dressed like a pretty pretty princess

One of her Valentine's Day poses 

And another.

You're welcome.

Two Years Gone

I wrote the following on January 11th,  and I'm just never going to hit publish if I don't do it now. Bah.
In re-reading this, it's highly emotional and I'm crying so if you're not up for reading it or you're having a bad day, I don't blame you for skipping this one. Not at all.

---

I never really know when to grieve. Of course I grieve everyday, and it's in everything I do. I grieve as I make Grace breakfast, thinking I should be putting her in the high chair, and wrestling Jack into a chair to feed him, too. I grieve wiping crumbs from the chin of a little Blondie boy as he attempts to make his sister smile. I grieve giggles I never heard him make. I grieve all those things which should make up my life, and don't.

The grieving part I struggle with is the conscious decision to grieve on his January 1st birthday, January 9th when he was declared, or January 11th when we last physically held him before his donation surgery... That kind of grief comes along organically. 

So far I can say the 1st seems to take the brunt of my grieving, or at least the anticipation of it. Today isn't much better, and I keep having fits of sobbing while I should be smiling at the things Grace has done.

I just can't believe he's been gone two years. That it has been that long since I held him, smelled him, and kissed him all over. It feels both like ten years and two weeks, all at once.

---

January 11, 2013 is infinitely better than 2011 or even 2012 when I was half way though my pregnancy with Grace. It takes only a moment to go back to that time in my mind... I remember handing him over to the nurse and they put him in the isolate and we walked with him past our parents as they stood in the hallway (as far as they could so), and then with the nurses to the elevator, on the elevator to the OR, and then to the door of the OR where we kissed him and touched his hand before walking away. I made it about five steps before I stopped and dropped Scott's hand and told them I needed to touch him one more time . One more touch to last for the rest of my life. And they told me absolutely, and to hold his hand and so I did. I kissed it and with that it was it. I remember breathing it in, knowing this was the last time I would EVER touch him. And it was.  We walked back to the private room where Jack had been , and there was no more beeping, and the room was empty of our boy and the sweet nurse Jenny had put together all of his things in a box. The bereavement coordinator hugged me and she may as well have lit me on fire because it was painful and suffocating... As we walked out, she asked me whether we were sure we didn't want an autopsy, as though she were asking if we wanted fries with that.

I remember feeling as though we were being smothered and how the fuck did this all happen? How did my happily ever crumple to the ground and how the fuck was I ever going to survive without Jack? Why would I even want to? I remember Scott repeating constantly that he was going to make this better, that he would fix it. And I remember knowing then as clearly as I do now there is no fixing this, no making it right.

I still don't know how I physically left the building. I know we didn't have the cash on hand to pay for the $80 in parking and my MIL handed us a wad of cash from her purse. I remember my parents wanted to follow us home and pack up baby things and I called them while watching them in our rear view mirror as we were driving and waved them off at Scott's request. We were exhausted both emotionally and physically and we just didn't want to talk about it at that time.

I remember we got home and fell asleep, Jack's clothing still scattered around our basement as I had left it when I went to the lactation clinic with my newborn baby for help just a few days before. It still smelled of him. There was a dirty diaper tightly wound up beside the change table and I remember opening it and seeing yellow baby poop. And I cried because we had celebrated each one of those poops in the days preceding his loss. And now I was grieving the poop which was never to come.

Nearly Two Years

A million times I've come to write in this space, edited this post, and left never quite feeling that it was right. 

It's still not.

Because what can possibly be right about a post when it revolves around missing a little boy over the holidays?

I don't know how we got to this point. How it's possible it's been almost two years since I held and kissed and welcomed that sweet little boy into our family. To think I thought we would get to keep him.

Two years on and I feel tremendous levels of grief, the degree to which I haven't felt in some time. There's a constant level of pain, and I'm not exaggerating in the least when I write that I think of him ten times per day, if not more. I suppose you could say it's an improvement (is it?!?!) from where I was before Grace arrived and my grief and that little face were all I thought about. Now, I think of him when I'm sad, when a commercial involves a little boy, I think of him when I'm happy and so proud of Gracie's latest accomplishment. Because I know he would be proud of her too, that he would want to gather her up in one of those hugs only little kids can form. That he'd pick her up (and drop her!) and kiss her little face entirely too hard. ugh. 

I just really miss him. There's no end to it. There's no "getting over it" to be done. Plain and simple he is so wanted and he can just never be again. I hate it.

The holidays are closing in quickly and I feel angry they are here again- why? Why are they back so soon? This year is better than last, certainly, but yet I always feel like we're settling because we only have one of our kids here and that really fucking sucks. We get to watch Grace roll around in crackling tissue paper and watch her eyes fill with delight when she looks at Christmas lights. But never him. 

I've been hyper emotional for the past few days weeks. Nit-picking and irritate... My temper is quick to flare. I can't control it, and in all honestly, I'm too exhausted to try. I long to hold him... I still wait for the opportunity to have a "do over". Scott and I are both frustrated with one another, and it's for no other reason than I am so emotionally charged with the holiday, anniversaries, and the like that I can barely stand to be in my own skin. 

I want to peel it off and throw it away. Let the ugliness out, you know?

This sounds so cliche and make-believe(y?), but I sometimes I can feel him here with us. Grace will stare off into an empty corner and her eyes will light up the same way they do in the morning when she first awakes... Or the way she smiles with her eyes when she sees her daddy. Or how she looks at my boobs- like that- all delightful and happy and content. It's him, I know it. I talk aloud to him, letting him know I love and miss him. That I hope we're making him proud. 

It's such a hard time for so many baby loss moms. So many anniversaries/birthdays and just build up to the holidays... The wondering if his/her name will be mentioned over dinner or in holiday cards... It's just... so awful, you know? I just hate that every year is going to be painful, and while I'll take it if it means he's remembered, it's so exhausting to even be thinking about it.

We're merely days out from his second birthday and I don't know what makes me sadder- that it's been two years since he joined our family- that it's been nearly two years since he left, or that we've managed two Christmases without him.  It's all so soul crushing.

I just miss his face

*I recently uploaded the footage we have of Jack from our camcorder to my new computer. In doing so I've capture a couple of screen shots and included them here. After not having watched it for more than a year, I can unequivocally say he is more beautiful than I even remember.

I barely made it through.

Yesterday Grace attended her six month appointment. Weighing in at a hefty 18lbs14oz, she is every bit the chubby, cuddly lovebug we've known she would be.

We had our innoculations and the first dose of the flu shot.  She cried, I stuck a boob in her mouth, and she was fine. She was tired and slept the whole way home. I was warned about low-grade fever as a side effect... But she hadn't suffered any illness after her other vaccines.

And last night she was a little tired, and cranky and so I resorted to taking her temperature.

Temperature taking is something I'm very hyper-vigilant about. Because Jack's low grade fever spiked very quickly once admitted to the hospital, I am terrified of any temperature above and beyond the 36.6/36.7 we have always known her to be. And by "known her to be", I actually mean it- we took her temperature multiple times each day for her first three months of life. For realz.

So last night just before her bedtime she had a temperature of 37.5. This is low grade. I gave her the appropriate dosage of Baby Tylenol (which must be delicious in it's "dye-free white grape goodness" because she took it like a champ!) and about 1/2 hour later she was in the high 36s. Good.

And of course it also earned her the option to sleep between her mum and dad where I could pop a boob in her mouth with every lip smack she made. Makes us both feel better about the whole thing, so off to sleep we went.

At 4:30am I awoke to her stirring and I decided I would take her temperature again. I stuck the thermometer under her arm pit and clicked the button on my phone to illuminate the screen. 38.5'. I freaked out, turned the bedside lamp on and sat her up. She was sleeping, and didn't really open her eyes. And I was very quickly retaking her temperature while my mind flashed back to our time with Jack in that hospital room, trying anything to lower his temperature. I looked over at Scott and looked just as worried as I was.

"You want to party?"

"I dunno... Kinda tired mum"

And so I gave her more medication, removed her sleep sack, striped her down to her diaper and began taking her temperature a million times over while nursing her. It was sticking in the 38s and I was making lists in my head of what I needed to pack to take to the hospital.

Scott told me to simmer down, and to stop taking her temperature- it wasn't changing and I was stressing myself out. By this point, my little girl was awake and thinking it was a surprise early-morning party just for her.  She was babbling and smiling and being generally gorgeous.

I told Scott I was going to go take a shower in case we ended up needing to take her in. I needed a few moments to myself to pull my thoughts together. I needed to be away from her so I wouldn't keep sticking that thermometer under her armpit.

So off to our bathroom I plodded, and I stood under the stream of water and cried. I thought of the tiny corner shower in the family room at SickKids- the one so small it was hard to raise my arms to wash my hair.  I thought of which hospital I would take her to- our local ER, SickKids, or McMaster Children's which is the closest one to us now.

My mind went there- what it would be like having two urns on my dresser... Of how I could ever survive if I lost her. How I just wouldn't want to.

I finished up in the shower and called out to Scott to see how Grace was doing. No response. I stepped into our bedroom and Scott had Grace turned towards him and she was asleep. I tiptoed over and Scott shushed me, telling me she had just fallen asleep and her temperature was now 36.9.

That little hand on his neck, and the big one on her back? L<3ve 

Eventually, after googling incessantly and taking her temperature again and again and was back down to normal. I questioned whether we were wasting precious time by not already being enroute to a hospital. I wondered whether anything I could do would have made any difference in protecting Jack's life... My mind was swimming with what ifs. After sitting up just watching her for another half hour and listening to her steady breathing, we finally went back to sleep.

Today she's a little cranky. She has no interest in bouncing in her bouncer, she's been given another dosage of Baby Tylenol and she's pretty darn tired. A call to her paediatrician confirmed the temperature wasn't anything to freak out about, but we were told we could come in if her temperature continues to stay up but that this is par for the course after vaccines.

I sat with her on my lap just a few moments ago singing "you are my sunshine" as she smiled and sighed and starred me down. And I told her that I love her to pieces and that I needed her to be okay. I barely made it through the loss of Jack. Just barely.

And so when people tell me to relax, or to be positive or that everything will be okay, this is why I lose my mind. Because I've experienced the worst and the mere thought of anything happening to her now is enough to take me back to those darkest of days.

Sometimes a fever is just a fever. And sometimes it's so much more than that. It's a reminder of just how fragile this life continues to be. It's the tearing at the seams of a still mending heart.

Whilst she sleeps...

Grace is napping in her swing right now, so rather than tackling the laundry, getting into bed, or loading the dishwasher, I'm choosing to write instead.

I've missed this place. The one where I would come to vent, cry as I type, and think about nothing but the little boy who is missing. Grace is 6 months old next week. As cliche as it is, I honestly have no idea where the time has gone. Our days are filled with the mundane (and I couldn't be happier about that) everyday tasks, and long moments of breathing her in. My mind still goes back to the point where I stood two years ago- blissfully pregnant and unaware that our little boy was not to be for long. I hate that.

Mommy's Little Pumpkin.. Heading to my parent's house for Thanksgiving.

I hate that I walked around like every other unassuming pregnant woman, confident we would have a little boy to raise. So sure he was ours to keep that I bought clothes to fit him when he was 12 months and beyond... I stocked up on diapers whenever I saw a good deal, with the goal of outfitting him throughout the first couple of years... Diapers Grace is now wearing- two years after their purchase, and used on that little boy's sister.

Her daddy likes to mimic her faces. 

As fall (my favourite season) is settling in, and the cooler nights are now our reality, I sort through our boxes and find the Old Navy bear suit I had planned to outfit him in rather than a winter coat. How much I wish he had outgrown these suits, and they had been folded and put away for his siblings. Instead the tags remain on these (there are two- 0-3, and 3-6 months) with the knowledge Grace can't wear them either as they were bought for a winter baby.

Love these two (+ one)

Another thought which has crept into my mind is that fall 2012 was when we may have realistically been thinking about a second baby... And now that baby won't be either. Which is not to say I grieve that, but more that I'm bothered by the many ways in which our life has been twisted and bent to nearly the breaking point. I think about weird things, like how Grace will attend school with kids born in 2012 and possibly be friends with kids born in 2011... How she will one day have friends who are the same age Jack should be... How awesome it was he was born on the 1st of January- the promise of a brand new year which should have been amazing and instead was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. The contrast between last year and this year is startling to me- I am able to do all the things I had wanted to do with Jack with his little sister.

Trying on her headband

This summer was full of stroller days. We walked a lot around our new subdivision and I would sing to her and tell her how gorgeous she is to me. I remember how much I have longed for that last year when I had no baby to push around.

I love being a mother to a living baby- it is everything and more than I expected and had hoped it would be. So far (knock on wood), I'm very rarely irritated with anything Grace does- whether that means pooping through a brand new outfit, or throwing up down my cleavage (she does it so often I'm not even surprised anymore...), whether it's her screaming for me only seconds after putting her down for the first time in hours, or when she awakes in her sleep crying because of what I can only assume is a bad dream. I love this baby so much it makes my heart swell. I know people say that all the time, but I mean it in a way I'm not quite sure I could have believed before experiencing it for myself.

This picture cracks me up.
She just wanted her momma to hold her.

This little girl is fantastic, and I am amazed she is mine.  Her Christmas dress arrived in the mail today and I can't wait to put it on her and get her pretty little portraits done in time for Christmas. We're coordinating our outfits, her grey and red dress coordinating with her daddy and I. I'm searching for the perfect bow for her pretty little head. All of these things are so wonderful. And yet it really bothers me that her big brother isn't there to pinch her, or make her smile or do all the wonderful things it is that 22 month old, stinky little boys do.

In a way, I am exactly where I wanted to be. Except not. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, and I'm still struggling with that.

15th of October... Remembering the Babies.

Today and everyday I am remembering.

I posted the following on Facebook and then cried about it all day.

"Losing your baby is an incredible isolating and impossibly difficult situation to face. It's waking up every day wishing that you hadn't. It's plastering a smile on your face as you meet a friend with a baby the same age as your child. It's facing a subsequent pregnancy with people asking you if this is your first, and giving you advice on pregnancy as though you've never done this before. As if y

ou didn't just do this six months before. It's people telling you with complete certainty everything will "be okay" even though it wasn't for you, nor to the many deserving women you've met along this arduous road.

Being the 1 in 4 isn't easy. It's made even more difficult when people (friends? family?) make the topic taboo and make you ashamed to speak his or her name. Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. 1 in 4 women will experience a loss. I am the 1 in 4."

At 7pm EST I posted the following on Instagram. I've spent the last couple of days thinking about how I wanted to make the flame seen around the world, and had settled on a candle only beside Jack's urn and medal.

At the last moment I pulled his molds from our cabinet, where they've been since we moved into this house in July.

Our flame and Jack's hand and foot holds

Jack's hand mold, holding my ring bearing his name

Gah, I still can't believe this is my life.

Thinking of all the sweet babies and their loving families, too.

xox