Few things are as depressing as organizing my maternity clothes to be packed away, when most of them hadn't even been worn. I had even gone out and bought a pair of maternity shorts (something I didn't own with Jamie!)...my "skinny" clothes had been packed away on the top shelf of my closet, so I'm in the process of switching them back. I guess this also gives me a chance to clear a few things out for donation. It's still depressing, though.
When I get pregnant again, I'll pull them out, but for now...I'd rather not see my flowy peasant shirts and stretchy waistband jeans everytime I open my closet.
It's also time to return the miscarriage support books to the library (although I'm holding onto a few that I borrowed from a friend) and the pregnancy books are back on the bookshelf, no longer handy on my nightstand.
It helps to think "I will use this" as I'm packing away. It's not forever, I'm not giving it all away...it's a promise to myself for the future. Holding onto hope.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Another loss.
Yesterday, Jamie and I went to our first funeral. Scott's grandmother (his mom's mom) passed away at the age of 92, after a long battle with Alzheimer's.
We spent nearly 2 days in rural Virginia, in Woodstock and Fort Valley. Shenandoah Valley. The area is absolutely beautiful. Blue mountains in the background, rolling green hills, wide open spaces. I met Scott's extended family, people who knew Scott when he was young. It was an emotional time, but nice to see a group of people come together and reunite. The servivce was beautiful, Jamie was amazingly well behaved (he went back and forth between Scott and I) and didn't make a peep.
I'm glad that Jamie had the opportunity to meet her several times. I remember sometime last year, when we spent the weekend with Scott's parents, and his grandma came over for dinner with his uncle. She didn't know who Jamie and I were, but she kept smiling at Jamie and commenting on how cute he was, and wondering who he belonged to.
We spent nearly 2 days in rural Virginia, in Woodstock and Fort Valley. Shenandoah Valley. The area is absolutely beautiful. Blue mountains in the background, rolling green hills, wide open spaces. I met Scott's extended family, people who knew Scott when he was young. It was an emotional time, but nice to see a group of people come together and reunite. The servivce was beautiful, Jamie was amazingly well behaved (he went back and forth between Scott and I) and didn't make a peep.
I'm glad that Jamie had the opportunity to meet her several times. I remember sometime last year, when we spent the weekend with Scott's parents, and his grandma came over for dinner with his uncle. She didn't know who Jamie and I were, but she kept smiling at Jamie and commenting on how cute he was, and wondering who he belonged to.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The loss.
I know I've been absent from this blog. And for that, readers, I apologize. I post regularly to facebook, and if you follow me there, you will see pictures of Jamie and tidbits from our lives. I haven't shared everything, however, and that's what I'm here to write about.
I'm going to include a disclaimer.
If death offends you, or if you feel that it makes you too uncomfortable to keep reading, then you've been warned -- go ahead and close your browser.
Okay.
I've been struggling with whether or not to share my story. Ideally, I would love to only have happy news to share with everyone...and often, I only choose the happier things to talk about.
I like this blog because I can look back on Jamie's development and how we've gotten here. This is the story of us. I love Jamie to pieces (and I'm so glad that others feel the same way) and know that if I had other children, I would love them, too.
When I say that this is the story of us, I should include all of us. I don't want anything or anyone in my life to be a hushed secret.
A week ago, I was hoping to spill the beans about Jamie's little brother or sister. You see, friends, I took a pregnancy test on New Year's Day and it was positive. In that moment, I knew my life was changing -- in a good way. I knew that I was 4 weeks along and the baby would be due in early September. Scott and I thought it would be great to announce our news at Jamie's 2nd birthday party, when our families would all be together. For lack of a better word, I was happy. There was so much to look forward to.
My birthday came and went on January 11th (I'm now 29 for those of you not keeping track). Exactly 1 week later, my life changed again. This time, my life changed and my world turned upside down. I was feeling good, starting to wear bigger clothes due to the baby bloat, and on a Wednesday afternoon, I started bleeding. I won't go into too many details...but when I felt that something wasn't right, I went to my doctor. For 2 days in a row (Thursday and Friday), I had completely normal ultrasounds. I saw Baby, saw the heartbeat and was told that everything looked normal. I held out hope. Over the weekend, I felt much worse. Again, no details, but it wasn't good. At this point, I knew my pregnancy was in danger. I called my parents, to let them know that I was pregnant and that I was probably going to lose my baby. My mom arrived on Sunday to help watch Jamie.
On Monday morning, as I was approaching 7 weeks, Scott and I went back to the doctor's office. I had my third and final ultrasound. When I think about what happened, I'm always reminded of the scene in the ultrasound room. Knowing that I wouldn't be shown the screen, seeing the technician shake her head and tell me how sorry she was. They didn't make me sit in the waiting room with the pregnant women. Instead, I was shown right away to an exam room, where my doctor gently suggested a D&C.
Tuesday, on the 24th, I had my D&C.
I couldn't help but remember that 2 years before (minus just a few days), I was in the same hospital, same doctor...but I was there for my c-section, to have my first baby. When I realized what was happening, I felt very sad at the circumstances.
It's been very difficult to pinpoint my emotions, so for now, I won't go into great detail. I've been trying to deal with the loss of my second child. Some people call it a mass of cells, too early for life to be considered a life...but that's not what I think. My child was my child from the very beginning. I had hopes and dreams. The promise of a future.
I've connected with some of my friends who have been down the same road, and having someone else to talk has given me an amazing source of hope and healing. Miscarriage is not something that people often discuss...and that saddens me. We're allowed to openly grieve the loss of family and friends...but something like this, it's often kept a secret. We can't have a memorial service or a funeral, I have no pictures other than ultrasounds and 2 belly photos...and yet, to me, this loss is just as real as any other death of a loved one.
Before now, only close family and friends have known about this...and we've appreciated the kind words and support that we've received. Thank you for everything, and we do hope, in the future, we'll be able to announce that we'll be adding onto our family.
I'm going to include a disclaimer.
If death offends you, or if you feel that it makes you too uncomfortable to keep reading, then you've been warned -- go ahead and close your browser.
Okay.
I've been struggling with whether or not to share my story. Ideally, I would love to only have happy news to share with everyone...and often, I only choose the happier things to talk about.
I like this blog because I can look back on Jamie's development and how we've gotten here. This is the story of us. I love Jamie to pieces (and I'm so glad that others feel the same way) and know that if I had other children, I would love them, too.
When I say that this is the story of us, I should include all of us. I don't want anything or anyone in my life to be a hushed secret.
A week ago, I was hoping to spill the beans about Jamie's little brother or sister. You see, friends, I took a pregnancy test on New Year's Day and it was positive. In that moment, I knew my life was changing -- in a good way. I knew that I was 4 weeks along and the baby would be due in early September. Scott and I thought it would be great to announce our news at Jamie's 2nd birthday party, when our families would all be together. For lack of a better word, I was happy. There was so much to look forward to.
My birthday came and went on January 11th (I'm now 29 for those of you not keeping track). Exactly 1 week later, my life changed again. This time, my life changed and my world turned upside down. I was feeling good, starting to wear bigger clothes due to the baby bloat, and on a Wednesday afternoon, I started bleeding. I won't go into too many details...but when I felt that something wasn't right, I went to my doctor. For 2 days in a row (Thursday and Friday), I had completely normal ultrasounds. I saw Baby, saw the heartbeat and was told that everything looked normal. I held out hope. Over the weekend, I felt much worse. Again, no details, but it wasn't good. At this point, I knew my pregnancy was in danger. I called my parents, to let them know that I was pregnant and that I was probably going to lose my baby. My mom arrived on Sunday to help watch Jamie.
On Monday morning, as I was approaching 7 weeks, Scott and I went back to the doctor's office. I had my third and final ultrasound. When I think about what happened, I'm always reminded of the scene in the ultrasound room. Knowing that I wouldn't be shown the screen, seeing the technician shake her head and tell me how sorry she was. They didn't make me sit in the waiting room with the pregnant women. Instead, I was shown right away to an exam room, where my doctor gently suggested a D&C.
Tuesday, on the 24th, I had my D&C.
I couldn't help but remember that 2 years before (minus just a few days), I was in the same hospital, same doctor...but I was there for my c-section, to have my first baby. When I realized what was happening, I felt very sad at the circumstances.
It's been very difficult to pinpoint my emotions, so for now, I won't go into great detail. I've been trying to deal with the loss of my second child. Some people call it a mass of cells, too early for life to be considered a life...but that's not what I think. My child was my child from the very beginning. I had hopes and dreams. The promise of a future.
I've connected with some of my friends who have been down the same road, and having someone else to talk has given me an amazing source of hope and healing. Miscarriage is not something that people often discuss...and that saddens me. We're allowed to openly grieve the loss of family and friends...but something like this, it's often kept a secret. We can't have a memorial service or a funeral, I have no pictures other than ultrasounds and 2 belly photos...and yet, to me, this loss is just as real as any other death of a loved one.
Before now, only close family and friends have known about this...and we've appreciated the kind words and support that we've received. Thank you for everything, and we do hope, in the future, we'll be able to announce that we'll be adding onto our family.
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