Born to Die

Someone should have told me that babies die. That they can die before they are ever born into this world. Sure, I had heard a story or two. In fact, I remember talking to my sister about how terrible that must be in the beginning of my pregnancy, about how “strong” those couples would have to be to survive such a thing. Now I know that they don’t have a choice.

Why do people say that we are “Born to Die?” So what does that mean for Caleb? It is so strange to me that I found out he was gone on February 15. But he was “born” on February 16. The date on his tombstone is the 16th. Why? So did he die to be born? I guess if we are born to die, then babies dying without ever being born would be the most unnatural occurence possible. Everyday in the United States, 71 mothers go through hours of painful labor after hearing that their child is already dead. What should be a happy moment, is now one of silence and sadness. It’s the first moment you look at your dead child and are saddened by what could have been.

June 29, 2013

Well today I got my medications in the mail so that I can start getting ready for the FET when my body decides it’s time. The box looked exactly like the one I received last year at this time, down to the sticker of a weird penguin on the outside and the tape holding it together. It was the same size, despite the fact that I will be taking fewer medications this round.

The past few days have been terrible. I have felt completely out of control of my life, my emotions, and of course my future. I have been angry. Not generic angry. Infuriated, wanting to destroy things. I have hated for no reason. I scared myself. I’m mad that people get pregnant by accident and don’t even want their children, but they get to keep them. I’m mad that everyone is happy in their lives where everything turns out SO great and my baby is still dead. I’m mad that God gave me Caleb, let me love him and take care of him, and want to meet him so much and then he just died. What was the purpose?

I have also wondered how my child died inside of me and I didn’t know. How did I cook dinner for my husband on Valentine’s Day when my son would be dying sometime in the next few hours? That night I had a very scary, terrible dream. My grandmother and great-grandmother (who both passed away) were coming out of freezers and chasing me. I don’t think they meant to harm me. They were probably warning me, but when you see a frozen corpse come out of a freezer in a dark dreamland, you run. The dream scared me so much that I woke my husband to tell him about it. I knew something was wrong. But the next morning I sat through two classes, answering questions and listening to the lectures. It was after my second class when the doctor’s office finally called me back and suggested I go to the hospital. I should have known. If there is truly an angel of death, then it took my child from inside my body. How did I not feel something?

Grief is a fucked up, scary thing. I will have a few weeks of doing well. I will busy myself with projects and planning. And then this happens. Thank God for xanax, but even that cannot stop the fear I have been feeling. If you have never been through this, then you might think I’m crazy and maybe I should wait to try again. This is (for the time being) my last chance. It’s going to scare the hell out of me whenever we do this. I will feel immense pressure because my body is asked to cooperate with the thousands of dollars worth of fertility treatments. And if it doesn’t, then we just wasted a ton of money. I’m starting to feel better than I did for the past few days. I think that maybe I needed to have a major breakdown-to experience every ounce of fear/anger/sadness/doubt before we start this process, so that I can be calm going forward. If it doesn’t work, we will find a way. Nothing will ever be as bad as losing Caleb.

Hope

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”-Martin Luther King Jr.

This quote describes my current predicament perfectly. I will never be able to describe the fear I have that this FET will not work. And if it doesn’t, I know that all the pain of losing Caleb will flood back in full force again. But it is my job to change my thinking right now. I need to believe that this will work. I need positive energy from all the people in my life. I need to learn to relax and de-stress. I want to get back some sense of that wonderful ignorance I had during the initial IVF…back then, I had no doubt that I would become pregnant. It’s funny that in an earlier post, I said that hope had been accomplished. (Of course, I was referring to the raffle at the time.) But the idea of hope, by definition, requires confidence in a future outcome. I need all the prayers, hopes, and positive thoughts I can get. And I will work on having that confidence in myself, my doctors, my husband’s ability to stick me with needles, and knowing that Caleb is watching over us and wants to see us happy.

 

 

The more things change, the more they stay the same

Our raffle is over. I’m happy, because now we can move forward. But I’m also kind of sad. The raffle took up a lot of my time and kept me busy. Honestly, I was a little disappointed. There were so many people who cared about us that bought tickets and so many people who would’ve really loved that bike. When we picked a winner, it turned out to be someone I had never met. Lucky for my dad (who had offered to bring the bike anywhere on the east coast) he lived locally. The man who won was very nice and I am so grateful that people are willing to buy tickets to support someone they have never met. I guess I was sad because I know he is selling the bike. First of all, it’s way too small for him. But he had called someone to come look at it less than ten minutes after we brought him the bike. I know it’s none of my business what happens now. It just would’ve been nice to see someone win who couldn’t wait to ride their very own Harley. It was hard for my mom to give the bike up, but she wants a grandbaby more than she wanted her bike. And so it’s gone. Hope has been accomplished.

Today was our consultation with our RE. My weight is not an issue. Apparently, weight effects a woman’s egg quality, but we have two frozen embryos, so I don’t need to make any eggs for this cycle. At the end of the month, I will start birth control for somewhere around 12 days. Then I will be put on estrogen patches until I’m eventually wearing four at a time. I will also have to get intramuscular injections of progesterone (yup-like the shot the doctor gives in your hip/butt) until my ninth week of pregnancy. Apparently, the doctor thinks my husband should give me those, which scares me a little. I always did my own shots last time. In addition to these medications, I will take a baby aspirin every day and give myself injections of Lovenox (a blood thinner) in my stomach until six weeks after I deliver a baby. Monday I will see my hematologist, who will recommend the best time to start blood thinners. I have a clotting disorder called Factor V Leiden (which caused my placenta to become clotted and ultimately caused Caleb’s death) and the added hormones can be dangerous.

Our transfer with Caleb last year was on July 31st. The doctor said that this year, we could transfer anywhere from the end of July to the second week in August. That means my pregnancy will be on the same timeline as my previous one. That scares me a little and even makes me sad. February will be hard. There’s no question about that. It’s a terrible month. But now I will be waiting to pass the 31 week mark. And I don’t want to take anything away from Caleb. It’s such a weird feeling. I’m so excited and I want so much to get pregnant and bring a baby home. But it’s always going to be hard to find a balance between my future and my past. How do you incorporate into your life and honor someone who isn’t here anymore?

I think going back to the same RE and everything feeling like it’s repeating made today a little bit rough. I’ve cried more today than I have in awhile. My husband and I watched “The Guilt Trip” tonight. It’s a comedy, but at one point in the movie the mother says to her son something like, “If I had my choice of all the boys in the world, I’d always pick you.” I would have given anything to be able to tell Caleb how much I love him. And I would always pick him. At this point in my life, I can’t imagine being capable of loving someone more. But I know that if I get to bring a baby home one day, I will have thousands more memories with them than I ever did with Caleb. All my memories of my time with Caleb are while he was still in my belly. When I finally got to meet him and hold him, he was already gone.

Better Days…

It’s been a busy week. On Memorial Day, I spent most of the afternoon holding my cousin’s newborn baby boy. The family was afraid that seeing him would upset me. It didn’t. I’m so curious about babies. Honestly, I don’t know much about them and don’t feel very comfortable taking care of one. With Caleb, it would have been a learning experience. And holding that baby, I looked at his little feet and wondered what Caleb would have been like.

When I first lost Caleb, I had to fight the urge to run up to women with babies and ask, “How did you get your baby out alive?” Now, when I see pregnant women it scares me. I wonder if they know to be worried. Are they counting their kicks? Have they been tested for clotting disorders? I feel like I stare, but it’s partially because it feels like my pregnancy wasn’t real and I’m trying to remember what it was like. After all, I have no baby to prove that I was ever pregnant.

Our raffle is going very well. We only have 20-something tickets left to sell. Knowing we will have the money for our FET soon makes me so excited. I have gotten very serious with my Weight Watchers and have exercised everyday. I have had more energy and felt better lately. My cycle has even normalized to twenty eight days again.Once we have the money, we will meet with our fertility doctor and see when he thinks we should do the transfer. If my weight is a non-issue, then we could potentially be doing this next month! I also met with a hematologist this week who I really liked. He explained a lot of things about clotting disorders and has run a bunch of other tests. Results should be in a week from tomorrow.

Things are looking up. Now to work on my stress levels and relaxation. My husband and I are doing much better. We take time for one another every day and are going to see a counselor this week. It feels good to be able to write about something positive for once!

Beam Me Up

This song is so beautiful and reminds me so much of my little boy. I would give anything for just one minute with him. I think I would say “I love you” as many times as I could fit into our minute together.

My life is your worst nightmare

 

Lately I have been distracting myself. I’ve used the raffle, school, job hunting, and Return to Zero to keep busy. I was doing so well that I actually felt bad. I felt guilty for not being the same mess I was 3 months ago, as if I was forgetting Caleb by not wallowing in his loss. Then I woke up today. I haven’t been able to get out of bed. My contacts aren’t in because I can’t stop crying long enough to put them in. It hurts deep down in my stomach. I should have a 3 month old baby. My life should be so different. And I told my husband that we probably would never have appreciated what we had-we would have taken it for granted. Not everyone’s baby is going to be born breathing. I know that now. My life is your worst nightmare. My child died inside of me, because my body produced clots that blocked him from being fed and getting oxygen. I went through hours of labor. And honestly, I don’t remember most of it. I remember the moment the doctor and nurses couldn’t find Caleb’s heart beat. I remember calling my husband crying, “He’s gone!” And I remember the very moment he was born. My mother said that he came out smiling. But many of the hours I had with him are lost to me. I don’t know if it was all the drugs in my system from the hospital, my 108 degree fever, or my mind’s way of keeping me safe. But I want those memories back. I will never have more pictures of Caleb. What I have now are all that will be. I will never hold him again. That’s why I need to remember the hours I had with him when I held him and kissed him.

 

Grieving is so strange. To be okay one moment and a mess the next. Even if all our tickets get sold, even if I get a job, and even if the FET works and I get pregnant again-I will miss Caleb.

 

Sometimes I wonder why God went through the trouble of creating such a beautiful little boy, only to take him back so soon. I have been angry with God, but I know He is there. I have to believe, because it’s unbearable to think that I won’t be with my baby again one day.

Still here…

I saw my OB last week. I presented my research articles to her. She was initially agreeing with the idea of only using baby aspirin in my next pregnancy. I explained to her that this could be my last chance and I wasn’t willing to get pregnant if I couldn’t protect my child. She agreed that we will start lovenox a week before my transfer! I was supposed to start baby aspirin right away, but I forgot until I started writing this.

Last week was the bike rally and we went out to three venues to sell tickets for Harley for Hope. We now have about 72 tickets left. I am nervous that it might be difficult to get these sold. Anytime I have to count on people besides myself I get nervous.

Things with my husband are still strained. There’s been a lot of fighting and avoiding going on around here. I am working on getting us into counseling. He has agreed to go, but says he doesn’t think it helps him. It’s stressing me out. We don’t communicate with one another very effectively.

Despite the fact that I’m feeling anxiety about selling tickets and my marriage, I feel like other areas of my life are better than they have been in awhile. I used to have a major issue with being alone. Now I choose to be alone at least 75% of the time. I guess in a normal person that might be unhealthy, but since it used to upset me I think it’s pretty great. I am trying to figure out what makes me happy and what I want to be doing. I have made my bedroom my spot to relax. It is the only area of the house that is as clean as I would like and the only place I can lay down when my fibromyalgia acts up. My husband has been sleeping on the couch for awhile now. He started sleeping there when I was pregnant. I have problems sleeping and couldn’t take anything to help while pregnant and his snoring drove me crazy. After Caleb died he slept in the bed with me for awhile. But recently, he’s back on the couch and I don’t know why.

I recently received my acceptance to graduate school. I’m still figuring out what my life will be like in this new phase. I’m job hunting, but I don’t want to settle. And part of me wants to take some time to paint and read-all the things I love but never make time to do. Plus, I would need to be taking time for doctor’s appointments once we get the money to do the FET. I guess I’m a little bit lost right now. It’s hard to make decisions when talking with my husband ends up in a fight almost every time.

How did I get here?

I have no idea how I have made it to this point. My head is so fogged up with grief. I can’t remember what I was doing 5 minutes ago most of the time. But I remember losing Caleb. Somehow, I finished this semester and will be graduating on Saturday. My house is in desperate need of cleaning, my legs need to be shaved, I can’t remember the last time I was actually “present” when my husband was home. I live in my head or online. I obsess about what I can control. My mother gave me her Harley Davidson Sportster to sell so that we can do our FET this summer. It’s a 100th anniversary 2003 with only 1095 miles on it. I’ve been selling raffle tickets for $20. I need to sell 325. So far I have sold about 100. I am trying to get these tickets sold before my next wave of utter uselessness and depression knocks me down. I can feel it coming.

I also have to lose weight for the FET, so I go to weight watchers. The weight comes off much slower than I remember. But I’m doing it. On Tuesday I saw a prenatal wellness doctor. Even though over 80% of my placenta was covered in clots by 31 weeks, the doctor doesn’t think I need to use injectable blood thinners in my next pregnancy. He told me I could take baby aspirin and would be monitored very closely. If clots develop, and the baby isn’t growing properly, they will take the baby early. None of this makes sense to me. Caleb died from my blood clots. I have one more chance with my frozen embryos. If they don’t give me heparin or lovenox, then my baby could be premature or stillborn. Not to mention that I would be going crazy worrying the entire time. I will not stop until someone listens to me and really hears what I’m saying. I have an appointment with my OB next Thursday. I am going in with a bunch of research articles and my thoughts written down so I cannot forget them. I promised Caleb I would never “shut up.” I will never stop advocating for him and my future baby. Stillbirth happens. It happened to my son. It changed me. Honestly, it broke me. I don’t know who I am anymore.

Empty Arms, Empty Home

When I first lost Caleb, I hated my house and it made me crazy. This was where I was supposed to play with him, feed him, and love him. He has a beautiful, comfy nursery waiting for him here. But the worst part of my house was that this is where I had time to think, to feel guilt, to imagine what I could have done differently. Eventually, I got to the point where I realized that it wasn’t that he was missing from my home, he was missing from my life. And I have to find a way to keep going without him. The pain of his absence is inescapable. I carry it with me wherever I go, no matter how much I try to distract myself. I want to make all kinds of positive changes to my life, because I want to honor his memory. If I stay unhappy and nothing changes, then it’s almost like Caleb’s life made no impact and I will not allow that to happen. I won’t let anyone forget that he was here, that he changed me for the better. No matter what happens in the rest of my life, Caleb will always be my baby boy, my IVF miracle, the reason I get out of bed and continue to push forward, my son who was still born.