Monday, September 3, 2012

I'm irritated & Monthly pictures

This is going to be all sorts of ranty, but I've been stewing over it for the past few days.

I'm still bewildered that this is my life. I absolutely love having Gracie and having her (alive) home with me, until next May when I go back to work and then go off pregnant again shortly-there-after with any luck. I just still can't let go of the fact there should be two... A twenty month old little man and this chunky baby.

I see two year olds and I can't even begin to imagine what having (a living) one must be like, and yet I should. I imagine it's busy... Crazy... Frustrating... But most of all, I imagine it's wonderful. I'm frustrated when I see mommy bloggers who were pregnant at the same time I was with Jack who have gone on to have their second baby shortly after I had Grace... Because why do they get to be so freaking lucky and happy and perfect? I know I'm so lucky to have her in my life, and I truly, truly know this... But I just can't help but continue to wish I had them both, you know?

I hate that my mind is constantly trying to "catch up" to those with two kids... Because I've had as many births as the national average and yet only half have made it... It is just another thing which bothers me about this whole baby loss thing... That the numbers just don't work.

I hate that I will carry this with me all the rest of my life. I hate that I'm angry and that I'm not blissfully ignorant. I miss that version of life where I don't know what this is like... Somedays it just sits so heavily on my shoulders. I'll be having an absolutely wonderful day singing and playing and interacting with Grace, and then my mind will wander and I'm overcome with sadness that he isn't here too...

I'm incredibly rage-y these days towards some people. For example, I'm currently butt-hurt about someone not getting immunizations for their kid because they find it unnecessary... Wanna know what I find unnecessary? That my son died. THAT was unnecessary... Because my experience has taught me that had Jack been a little bit older, then he may have possessed some immunity against the infection which ultimately cost him his life thanks to these same needles... And that someone would make that conscious decision NOT to give their kid that benefit... That's the part that irritates me... Not because they don't inoculate... But because at the root of it all, it's as if they just don't think it's going to happen to them. Which makes me want to freak out and throw a hissy-fit like a three year old. It makes me want to cry and scream and repeatedly hit my head against a wall. It enrages me.

Fuck. In all honesty, I don't even know enough about injections to have a well-formed argument... Sure I've read things and I am a believer in science... But my response is irrational and completely out of line with someone else's decision making... It's how I feel, and I'm irritated by it. I am irritated because it absolutely should not happen to anyone, but likewise it shouldn't have happened to us... And I wish I could have the smugness and confidence to think it couldn't happen again to us either.

I sometimes feel like when I speak to this person they aren't really listening... Like she smiles and nods her head as though she's paying attention, while simultaneously thinking I should find myself a thickly padded room. Like she thinks I'm trapped in the world where babies die all the time and I need to get out of it... Like it's an anomaly rather than the norm... But the problem is that I've seen behind the curtain, and there is no unseeing these truths- babies die, no matter how hard you love them, how much you wanted them, and no matter how much you would lay your own life on the line to protect them. They just do. And it's incredibly unfair and incredibly disturbing. But they do.

I'm likely reading too much into this, but I almost worry I can't get past this stuff... That these are things that constitute a deal breaker to me. Had you asked me twenty months ago my thoughts on such things, and I would have shrugged... Now somehow I'm taking it personally... But when your daughter sleeps in her crib at the foot of the bed, and her brothers urn sits 2 feet from her... THIS is what the death of your child does to you. This is what it's done to me. THIS is why I am the way I am.


Onto happier things... The progression of Grace since birth... You'll notice the size of her thighs keeps increasing... I've been assured this is what happens until they start crawling...That one day she will be able to use those strong little leggies to walk her around... But we'll see. ha.

Somewhere between weeks 2-3 my milk must have really come in... ha.

I can not believe it's already been four months since we welcomed her into our lives. It's truly been a blessing and I am soaking this time up with her. Already it seems like she's making the transition from sweet little baby to a spunky kid. It's crazy, and wonderful and I'm so thankful.


Amy L. said...

Jack *should* be here. It is incredibly unfair, and I totally agree it's the normal for those of us who have lost our babies. My loss has me still battling that I'll ever birth a living child (Hell, ever conceive again, even), and my irrational babylost mind has me taking personally the Thursday night stillbirth of a calf on our farm. It's all unfair and not right, and because I am on the wrong side of this, where infertility and babyloss are my reality, everything else in my life is colored the same way. I hate it, and hate that I, too (and my formerly carefree husband), now cautiously peek behind every corner, question every decision, and lament the stupid, blissful *unawareness* that 90% of all other parents carry.


And, OMG, the rolls! She's gorgeous! (Love your giraffe print chair, too!)

Melissa said...

First of all, she is simply gorgeous! You could kiss those cheeks all day.

I loved every single line of this post. It is from the heart and so, completely, true. The imagery of having her sleep 2 feet from her brothers urn says it all. This is how we incorporate our children into our lives. This is the reality that baby loss Mama's and Dad's live in. There are times when I am very jealous of the innocence I used to have...that other Mom's and Dad's get to raise their children with. I fear what my loss of innocence could mean for any of my surviving children. It also enrages me to see the decisions they make that do not take into account the potent truth that we live each day with, babies die. You can do nothing wrong, everything right, be a good person and be ready to be one of the best Mama's in the world...and they still die.

Molly said...

Yeah I'm so sick of the smug-ass ppl who are starting to look at me weird bc I'm a part of this baby loss world, as if it was a choice. It can't happen to them, right? I'm just the one who it happened to and then I just went crazy. Ppl are idiots.

On the thighs, I will use my fav word to describe them again--Wowzers! Hahahhah! It's too cute and I lmao when u commented about milk coming in b/t 2/3 weeks bc that's when they clearly started. Love all of the pics and cool backgrounds!

Caroline said...

You are trapped in the world where babies die. Sadly, we all are. And by "all" I don't just mean us who have lost a child. We ALL are. Some choose not to see it. Some see it but don't experience it (thank God for them), and it's just so so hard to see it AND experience it :(

Wish you had two spunky kids keeping your busy. I hate that the numbers will never add up.

Veronica said...

Some couple friends of mine were recently talking about the health of their living 3year old...and comparing their newly one year old (who had just taken a pretty bad spill, and they were debating putting disinfectant on the boo boo) in how much they worry less with the second one. "you know...we just put too much attention on how fragile kids are. They're so resilient, all those shots, and check ups were for nothing".

And the old me would have maybe nodded, and agreed that the proof is in fact, in the pudding. And as much as i still want to feel that way ... I have my own big batch of pudding now. And there's just as much proof in that. Babies die! Mine died. My perfectly healthy baby couldn't survive and died (inside me) unexpectedly a week+ after his due date.

Can't say I can't worry about that anymore! I hear you LJ. There's no going back.

Grace is too much, btw. Too cute.

Mama Bear said...

Oh so cute! I love it! And I wish Jack's was cuddling with her.
It is so hard that we can never escape the reality that perfect babies die sometimes. I'm pregnant and I struggle with everyone who talks about pregnancy and babies as if they are sure things at this point. I can't stand the "just wait, your life is going to change..." I also can't believe that this is my life.

Merry said...

She is totally, but totally adorable.

And you are right, everything you say. But I was that person once, before I had to look behind the curtain. I just thought it happened to other people. I miss tht self that I was lucky enough to be. I miss her. I just didn't know, I thought I was immune, if you pardon the pun.

We ought to be inoculated ourselves on our first day, given I tiny glimpse of the pain so we know to take all precautions. But you know, angry as I get, I would love it if my daughters could be able to be innocent and naive like that. Unfortunately they can't, because they found out too early that baby brothers die :(


Angela said...

I relate to so much in this post. I wish we had our two year olds and our babies. It is so hard to reconcile what we have with what we're missing.

Grace is SO adorable. I love her chunky baby thighs!

Jennifer Grimes said...

I can totally relate! I also lost my son to bacterial meningitis (at 22 months old). I was pregnant with my 2nd son at the same time as a co-worker. She refused to do the Strep B test because she thought it was gross and the whole time I was thinking about how she was being so careless with her child's life. People don't get it and it sucks!

I feel like I'm trying to catch up to people with 2 kids as well and I hate that we will never get there. Thinking of you and by the way both of your children are beautiful!

B. Wilson said...

She's simply gorgeous and I think the 2 month shot is my fave.

I can definitely see the real child in her now. It's incredible and crazy all at once.

I'm still struggling. I still haven't really accepted that Andrew is dead and that I should have two children and that I don't and that I hate it and it's not fair. I realize that last sentence will a grammatical disaster and that's kind of how I feel in terms of grief. Still pretty freaking broken and jealous and sad. I still hate that my life has come to this, though I wouldn't trade B for anything in the world. But gosh, Andrew should totally have been given that chance.

I am more enraged with other parents who make these decisions because they are so high-and-mighty and think they are invincible, even though I know I'd be the same. Just sucks to be on this side of the tracks.

I'm sorry and I understand. Let's drink beer together and talk trash about those parents, shall we?

B. Wilson said...

p.s. I remember when you bought that giraffe chair. It's so bittersweet. The whole lot.

Kelly said...

I love her :)

I feel a lot of what you feel. I keep wondering what it would be like with an almost 4 yr old, almost 2 yr old, and a 4 mo old. I can't even imagine the insanity. But even on the crazy days here, it's too quiet. And there's always an emptiness that only an alive Adam could fill. I hate it even though I know how lucky we are to have the girls. Love you friend.

Darcey said...

She is adorable and looks so happy, great job Momma!!! .

I agree with so much of what you say. I totally feel "trapped" and I am tired of feeling this way as well because it is so exhausting.

Thinking of you and Jack.

Brooke said...

I hate the way Eliza's death has changed me in certain aspects. I hate feeling set apart by loss. I hate knowing that one of my children will always be dead and Caroline will never know her big sister and I hate that I don't have the opportunity to say Eliza's name nearly as often as Caroline's.

I hate people who think joy is ordinary and loss is exceptional.

Once upon a time, I used to worry about vaccines and side effects and additives. You know what I worry about now? Polio. Hepatitis. I'll take a fussy baby with a low grade fever if it means I get to keep her. I just want to keep her safe and I hate parents who think that they can take safety and health for granted.

But I love G's thighs.

TanaLee Davis said...

These are the types of emotions I have been reading about from mothers that go on to have living children. I worry that I too will have them- I know I will. It is so crushing to know that we must know behind the scenes and walk this shade of grey in life. My heart aches with you. hugs LJ-

Addi's mom said...

So much to say, but mostly just agreeing with you! I always read and then think I'll have time to come back to comment....since that never happens, here's a short IPhone message just to let you know that I'm reading and thinking about Jack :)

Melissa said...

Oh my, look at those legs! I love her!

I feel exactly the same way as you. Exactly. I can't express enough how much I could have written this post (except mine would have been less well-written).

Rhiannon said...

I love Grace and her rolls :):):) She is so adorable!!

I know what you mean, we will always be 'playing catch up'. Even now, expecting again, it hits me so hard sometimes that my reality is still so sad and that I should be chasing after two little girls while waiting on their little brother to arrive. It still angers me that my baby had to die, why any of them have to. it is the most unnatural thing and will break our hearts for the rest of our lives no matter how many living children we are blessed with.

Nicole said...

Ugh. Wouldn't you just love to knock those know-it-all, my-child-is-invincible, nothing-horrible-can-or-will-happen-to-me off their padded perches and do some sort of movie magic where you just touch them and are able to share your grief and feelings of losing your beloved? I know I probably sound like a nut job. Truth is, I guess I am. I get so angry at people who take it all for granted, assume that everything is going to work out beautifully for them. And I get really really angry because it usually seems to.

It really sucks to think of what our lives would/should be like if we hadn't lost our babies. What would it be like with 2 kids?! What do almost 2 year olds do? Would they get along? Would they be similar in their dispositions? All these questions (and millions more) run through my mind each day. And all I can say is that it sucks. And I'm sorry that you have yo understand the suckage with me, and all these other ladies and families, and that we all didn't get to be the shiny happy people.

But in happier news: I just love that sweet face, and those thighs! I never get tired of seeing her pictures!

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