Wow, time really flies when you're having fun huh? As usual summer is blowing by at warp speed. I think it has been over two months since I last wrote. Let's see what I can catch you up on in the fifteen minutes I have carved out to write.
Tanner had his 4-month check-up today. He weighs 14 pounds 11 ounces. He smiles, he laughs, he rolls over, he grabs objects with his hands, and is working on sitting up. He has already had his first haircut, and could use another. He was a bit of a fussy newborn, but since just past 6 weeks he has been such a joyful, happy little guy. He is so much fun. He has been sleeping through the night since about 7 weeks, but he doesn't nap very well during the day. I am a little sad at the end of each day at the thought of him growing up so fast. Why does the baby part always go so fast? His sister just absolutely adores him and frequently has to be reminded to be gentle and give him a little space. She is, however, very handy when he needs his binky replaced quickly, or someone entertaining to stare at for a few minutes while I shower.
I started a job at a tiny rural hospital working weekends. Jerry has been adjusting well to having both the kiddos on the days I work. Tanner doesn't seem to mind at all. I, on the other hand, have yet to get used to leaving him. I thought it would get easier this time around, having already gone through this with Roo. But no. I am really glad to be working, and I feel blessed to not have to leave him with a stranger, but it's HARD. Pumping at work really sucks. Then Tanner gets used to having a bottle for two days in a row and is a bit difficult to get back on the breast when Monday rolls around.
I took a break from classes after my course wrapped up at the end of May. I had forgotten what it felt like to be out of school...it feels way too good. Classes will be starting up again in a couple of weeks and I am not looking forward to it.
Jerry just got a new job and we are going to be moving! I am so excited to get out of this tiny, ridiculous excuse for a town. The town we are moving to is still pretty small but it is much more centrally located and is a mere 90 minute drive from the city Tanner was born in (I am currently 3.5 hours away from that city so...yeah). It's not a place I ever thought I'd live and I still have reservations about it all, but the job is too good to turn down. We got the go-ahead to pick a start date today. Now it's time to start house hunting!
I really want to write more. The days with my little family are so fleeting and I miss the aware-of-the-moment feeling that more frequent posting gives me. I like when I get the chance to take stock of everything that's happening and write it all down. This post feels so short, but I really do have ten more waiting in my head right now.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
Validation, Baby
On Thursday I had my 6-week postpartum check. It was great to have the chance to show Tanner off to the people who helped get us to the finish line. They all seemed genuinely happy for us, and Tanner's full head of hair was quite the topic of discussion.
Dr. VBAC and I did not see eye-to-eye on everything during my pregnancy. For awhile, I think he had some trouble deciding whether to be irritated or amused by me, but by the end of our journey I think we had developed a good rapport. He visited my hospital room 3 or 4 times a day and would sit and talk for much longer than necessary, frequently about non-medical things. He has a nurse practitioner who works for him named Nancy who I absolutely adored. Either Dr. VBAC or Nancy has called to check on me weekly since Tanner was born. These are people that I am eternally grateful to.
One of the issues Dr. VBAC and I had was whether or not I should have a VBAC. As you know, I chose to have a c-section with Roo. I had a wonderful peri, Dr. M, who delivered her safely and on-time. He passed away a year after she was born, and was thus unavailable as a resource to me during this pregnancy.
I didn't know it when I wrote this post, but Dr. VBAC likes to travel the country encouraging rural hospitals to allow more women to attempt VBACs. At nearly every appointment either he or the nurses would mention it to me as an option. I ended up feeling like he was pushing his own personal agenda on me, and I really resented it.
At the same time, I felt very conflicted. Obviously, I wish with all my heart that I had been able to give birth vaginally with Matthew. No one would be trying to limit the number of children I have. I wouldn't have to live in fear of uterine rupture or another horrifyingly painful recovery. And I love witnessing childbirth. In my nursing career so far, women and babies have been what most fascinates me. I wish I had the chance to have a vaginal birth. I wish it was that simple.
So my internal conflict raged throughout Tanner's pregnancy. Dr. M had said no, but Dr. VBAC was saying yes. A VBAC wasn't something I had known I wanted, but the more times it was offered, the more tempting the option became. In the end, fear kept me from trying. Fear and the knowledge that if I tried it and something were to go wrong, I could lose not only another little boy, but also a chance at future pregnancies. As any woman who has experienced infertility or the loss of a child knows, the chance of a future child can be priceless. I was more frightened during this pregnancy than I have ever been in my life. The premature labor and being hospitalized in the same places where Matthew and I were 7 years ago was emotional torture. Having a baby boy stirred some old feelings up that I had thought were long buried. Being separated from Jerry during the week caused some extra anxiety. I was....terrified the entire time.
Here I am now. Safely on the other side of all that. After Tanner's birth, I spoke with Dr. VBAC about the possibility of another pregnancy in a few years and I was glad to hear him say that I can attempt one in the future. He also casually mentioned that he felt the "VBAC ship had sailed."
But at my check-up, Nancy gave me a gift. Without any provocation whatsoever--we were talking about birth control--she paused, looked me in the eye, and said, "Reese, I want you to know that although we think you are ok to attempt another pregnancy, your uterine wall was thinner than Dr. VBAC thought it would be. We wouldn't let you labor in the future because we wouldn't want your uterus contracting. Dr. VBAC was actually very glad that you chose to have a c-section."
I didn't know what to say. Nancy knew that I had struggled with my decision, and she was handing me absolution. I looked at her, and I knew she understood exactly what she was giving me. I barely held back my tears.
I felt a weight lift. There was a part of me that worried that perhaps I had limited myself unnecessarily. There was a part of me that felt I had wimped out because I was afraid to try. I am so relieved that I followed my instincts and trusted that Dr. M, the peri who had actually seen my uterus, knew what he was talking about.
I don't know if I'll ever get another baby, but I know I haven't given up on the idea. In my heart, I really want to do it one more time. In my heart I want to hear that precious new heartbeat and feel those first tiny kicks one more time. And now I know for sure that the choices I made during Tanner's pregnancy just might make it possible for me to do it one more time. For right now, though, it's time to focus on enjoying the two wonderful babies I have here on this earth. It's time to put that tiny little flame of hope that is my fourth child away until the time comes to take it out again.
Dr. VBAC and I did not see eye-to-eye on everything during my pregnancy. For awhile, I think he had some trouble deciding whether to be irritated or amused by me, but by the end of our journey I think we had developed a good rapport. He visited my hospital room 3 or 4 times a day and would sit and talk for much longer than necessary, frequently about non-medical things. He has a nurse practitioner who works for him named Nancy who I absolutely adored. Either Dr. VBAC or Nancy has called to check on me weekly since Tanner was born. These are people that I am eternally grateful to.
One of the issues Dr. VBAC and I had was whether or not I should have a VBAC. As you know, I chose to have a c-section with Roo. I had a wonderful peri, Dr. M, who delivered her safely and on-time. He passed away a year after she was born, and was thus unavailable as a resource to me during this pregnancy.
I didn't know it when I wrote this post, but Dr. VBAC likes to travel the country encouraging rural hospitals to allow more women to attempt VBACs. At nearly every appointment either he or the nurses would mention it to me as an option. I ended up feeling like he was pushing his own personal agenda on me, and I really resented it.
At the same time, I felt very conflicted. Obviously, I wish with all my heart that I had been able to give birth vaginally with Matthew. No one would be trying to limit the number of children I have. I wouldn't have to live in fear of uterine rupture or another horrifyingly painful recovery. And I love witnessing childbirth. In my nursing career so far, women and babies have been what most fascinates me. I wish I had the chance to have a vaginal birth. I wish it was that simple.
So my internal conflict raged throughout Tanner's pregnancy. Dr. M had said no, but Dr. VBAC was saying yes. A VBAC wasn't something I had known I wanted, but the more times it was offered, the more tempting the option became. In the end, fear kept me from trying. Fear and the knowledge that if I tried it and something were to go wrong, I could lose not only another little boy, but also a chance at future pregnancies. As any woman who has experienced infertility or the loss of a child knows, the chance of a future child can be priceless. I was more frightened during this pregnancy than I have ever been in my life. The premature labor and being hospitalized in the same places where Matthew and I were 7 years ago was emotional torture. Having a baby boy stirred some old feelings up that I had thought were long buried. Being separated from Jerry during the week caused some extra anxiety. I was....terrified the entire time.
Here I am now. Safely on the other side of all that. After Tanner's birth, I spoke with Dr. VBAC about the possibility of another pregnancy in a few years and I was glad to hear him say that I can attempt one in the future. He also casually mentioned that he felt the "VBAC ship had sailed."
But at my check-up, Nancy gave me a gift. Without any provocation whatsoever--we were talking about birth control--she paused, looked me in the eye, and said, "Reese, I want you to know that although we think you are ok to attempt another pregnancy, your uterine wall was thinner than Dr. VBAC thought it would be. We wouldn't let you labor in the future because we wouldn't want your uterus contracting. Dr. VBAC was actually very glad that you chose to have a c-section."
I didn't know what to say. Nancy knew that I had struggled with my decision, and she was handing me absolution. I looked at her, and I knew she understood exactly what she was giving me. I barely held back my tears.
I felt a weight lift. There was a part of me that worried that perhaps I had limited myself unnecessarily. There was a part of me that felt I had wimped out because I was afraid to try. I am so relieved that I followed my instincts and trusted that Dr. M, the peri who had actually seen my uterus, knew what he was talking about.
I don't know if I'll ever get another baby, but I know I haven't given up on the idea. In my heart, I really want to do it one more time. In my heart I want to hear that precious new heartbeat and feel those first tiny kicks one more time. And now I know for sure that the choices I made during Tanner's pregnancy just might make it possible for me to do it one more time. For right now, though, it's time to focus on enjoying the two wonderful babies I have here on this earth. It's time to put that tiny little flame of hope that is my fourth child away until the time comes to take it out again.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
A Trip to the ER
Let me preface this post by saying that I wouldn't even be telling this story if I didn't have Jerry to verify that I am not, in fact, crazy.
I kicked ass today. I got so much cleaning done. I felt like my old pre-pregnant self again. Better than my pre-pregnant self. I practiced handwriting with Roo. I made hotel reservations for my upcoming trip to the city (just me and the kids--should be interesting). I scrubbed the mud room free of all the spring mud. After a rough night, Tanner slept like a baby all day.
Around the time I was getting ready to start dinner, he started to fuss. A really high-pitched type of fuss. When I opened his diaper I almost fainted. His scrotum was hugely swollen on the right side all the way up into the crease of his groin and slightly discolored.
I freaked, you guys. To be honest, one of the things that made me apprehensive about having a little boy was dealing with the boy parts. All the nursing school textbook stories of undescended testicles, circumcisions gone wrong, circumcisions gone right, varicoceles, and inguinal hernias really scare me. I knew he didn't have a fever. I knew he was peeing, pooping, and eating on schedule. But he looked a bit pale when I thought about it and combined with the high-pitched cry and the obvious sudden discrepancy down there...yeah.
So...now Tanner clearly has some sort of inguinal hernia (at best) or testicular torsion (at worst) going on.
Jerry arrives home and I open his diaper to show him the goods. We head to the ER. Tanner, finished with his baby-rant, passes out again. Tanner dozes peacefully in his car seat.
We arrive at the ER. Tanner wakes up and proceeds to smile at the receptionist and a nurse who comes over to check him out. Obviously not in distress, we are shoved in a room and wait over 2 hours to be seen. Tanner stays awake the entire time, staring at the world in sheer contented wonder.
And...his parts look completely normal. Seriously. The PA was looking at me like, "Why are you here?" and then she recommended I follow-up with his pediatrician.
I mean, I'm thrilled that this trip to the ER didn't end with someone getting airlifted to a larger hospital (because that happened recently, remember?). Or with emergency surgery on my infant son. But I felt like an idiot because there really didn't seem to be anything wrong with him. And I'm an RN. I feel like I should know better or something.
On the way home I asked Jerry about 6 times, "I mean, it WAS swollen right?" and every time he agreed with me that it had been.
So I guess I'll call his pediatrician in the morning? It should be interesting trying to relay this little story to her. For now I'm just glad that my baby seems to be ok.
I kicked ass today. I got so much cleaning done. I felt like my old pre-pregnant self again. Better than my pre-pregnant self. I practiced handwriting with Roo. I made hotel reservations for my upcoming trip to the city (just me and the kids--should be interesting). I scrubbed the mud room free of all the spring mud. After a rough night, Tanner slept like a baby all day.
Around the time I was getting ready to start dinner, he started to fuss. A really high-pitched type of fuss. When I opened his diaper I almost fainted. His scrotum was hugely swollen on the right side all the way up into the crease of his groin and slightly discolored.
I freaked, you guys. To be honest, one of the things that made me apprehensive about having a little boy was dealing with the boy parts. All the nursing school textbook stories of undescended testicles, circumcisions gone wrong, circumcisions gone right, varicoceles, and inguinal hernias really scare me. I knew he didn't have a fever. I knew he was peeing, pooping, and eating on schedule. But he looked a bit pale when I thought about it and combined with the high-pitched cry and the obvious sudden discrepancy down there...yeah.
So...now Tanner clearly has some sort of inguinal hernia (at best) or testicular torsion (at worst) going on.
Jerry arrives home and I open his diaper to show him the goods. We head to the ER. Tanner, finished with his baby-rant, passes out again. Tanner dozes peacefully in his car seat.
We arrive at the ER. Tanner wakes up and proceeds to smile at the receptionist and a nurse who comes over to check him out. Obviously not in distress, we are shoved in a room and wait over 2 hours to be seen. Tanner stays awake the entire time, staring at the world in sheer contented wonder.
And...his parts look completely normal. Seriously. The PA was looking at me like, "Why are you here?" and then she recommended I follow-up with his pediatrician.
I mean, I'm thrilled that this trip to the ER didn't end with someone getting airlifted to a larger hospital (because that happened recently, remember?). Or with emergency surgery on my infant son. But I felt like an idiot because there really didn't seem to be anything wrong with him. And I'm an RN. I feel like I should know better or something.
On the way home I asked Jerry about 6 times, "I mean, it WAS swollen right?" and every time he agreed with me that it had been.
So I guess I'll call his pediatrician in the morning? It should be interesting trying to relay this little story to her. For now I'm just glad that my baby seems to be ok.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Just Generally Overwhelmed
What can I say? It's April. This is the third April that I've had a blog, and as I look back over my previous April posts it becomes very clear that April is always overwhelming. It's always a hard month to get through. So I'm not too alarmed that I'm feeling like a bit of a train wreck.
The baby is a month old tomorrow. I knew it would go by faster than, say, the last month of pregnancy went by but sheesh! He is a lovely little guy. Enjoys staring at things, eating, pooping, and the occasional screamfest. Doing a fair amount of smiling. Working on his double chin. Oh, and let's not forget being held, which I have no problem doing. I suspect that he doesn't enjoy his crib. Last week I was convinced that he had decided that sleep is for wussies and had instead chosen to sustain himself with a multitude of naps in a wide variety of positions. Positions that I had to guess at. I was obliged to hold him in my arms until he fell asleep, and he always seemed to fall asleep when the tv remote was just out of the reach of my fingers. He would also just doze lightly so as to never miss a single noise his sister or father made. This week he has slept a bit more. He absolutely rocks. I am trying to soak up every possible second of these days. He's so delicious. I find myself constantly staring at him, pressing my face into his little neck and breathing him in. I would take a dozen more just like him.
Or so I say until I remember that they turn into 5 year olds who are also vying for your attention. Having 2 kids? It's a little....busier... than I was thinking it would be. There's just more juggling involved, and no one really warned me that there would be a transition. People are so willing to warn you how difficult your first child will be (a theory that I found completely incorrect, by the way. She wasn't difficult in the least.), but when you have two at home no one says anything. I'm really not sure how much sleep I'm getting. I don't even want to know. I learned in nursing school that it's usually better if you don't count how many hours of sleep you got last night.
Poor Roo is a very enthusiastic big sister, but she is a bit lonely. The spotlight has been on her for the last 6 years and she just isn't used to waiting to have my attention or getting by with less of it. To her credit, she absolutely adores her baby brother and pretty much finds him endlessly fascinating. She is such a little mama. Woman after my own heart. Tomorrow we are hopefully going to get signed up for swimming lessons--she needs a little outside entertainment.
My body doesn't seem to be bouncing back. I'm still in a considerable amount of pain, and I feel really run-down. It has honestly been very frustrating for me. I find it shocking that this c-section has been so brutal when I had two c-sections in 15 months with Matthew and Roo. I wasn't expecting surprises when it came to my recovery. I'm just hoping I start feeling better soon. I need my body back in fighting shape. Trying to be patient and gentle and all that crap with myself, but come on.
Winter refuses to relent here in Nowhereville. It's driving me absolutely crazy. It snowed over 15 inches here the other day. It really stresses me out that I'm still worrying about road conditions when Jerry leaves for work in the morning.
Speaking of Jerry...he is working too much. Between the commute and the long hours he is hardly ever gone less than 16 hours a day during the week. I just do my best to make sure he eats, kisses the kiddos, and gets to bed quickly. He is such a good sport about it all. He never complains, but I can see how tired he is.
We both agree that we are not living in a place we want to stay long at. We really want to move closer to a city and ASAP. Seriously. I (We) hate it here. I feel like we've given it a fair shot at this point. It's just not for us. I mean, the pregnancy was about 4x as difficult to get through because of the distance between the hospital and home. If we ever want to try for another baby, we've agreed that we absolutely cannot do it 3.5 hours from the hospital again. I've mentioned that the grocery store is the size of a gas station, right? And that there are absolutely no stores, restaurants, etc? No activities for Roo (the swimming lessons require a one hour commute each way)? And my internet service is only available through a phone line?
Now that Little Man is here safely, we are turning our attention to getting Jerry a different job that will allow us to get the hell out of here. Hopefully quickly. It really can't happen too quickly as far as I'm concerned.
I'm just starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to the medical bills, so that's something positive. And I can get a job in a couple months or so, provided I can find adequate child care in this hell hole. Just the thought of leaving him with someone else give me anxiety....
I'm really glad I took Jerry's advice and only enrolled in one class for this session. Because it's kicking my ass. I am barely meeting deadlines, but it's no longer because I procrastinated. It's because I can barely find time to put on a clean shirt, let alone write a paper.
Never a dull moment around here.
The truth is that these are all pretty great problems to have. Sleep deprivation, job options, school overload. At least I have my wonderful little family to make the days brighter. I've been behind on commenting--I'm still reading!
The baby is a month old tomorrow. I knew it would go by faster than, say, the last month of pregnancy went by but sheesh! He is a lovely little guy. Enjoys staring at things, eating, pooping, and the occasional screamfest. Doing a fair amount of smiling. Working on his double chin. Oh, and let's not forget being held, which I have no problem doing. I suspect that he doesn't enjoy his crib. Last week I was convinced that he had decided that sleep is for wussies and had instead chosen to sustain himself with a multitude of naps in a wide variety of positions. Positions that I had to guess at. I was obliged to hold him in my arms until he fell asleep, and he always seemed to fall asleep when the tv remote was just out of the reach of my fingers. He would also just doze lightly so as to never miss a single noise his sister or father made. This week he has slept a bit more. He absolutely rocks. I am trying to soak up every possible second of these days. He's so delicious. I find myself constantly staring at him, pressing my face into his little neck and breathing him in. I would take a dozen more just like him.
Or so I say until I remember that they turn into 5 year olds who are also vying for your attention. Having 2 kids? It's a little....busier... than I was thinking it would be. There's just more juggling involved, and no one really warned me that there would be a transition. People are so willing to warn you how difficult your first child will be (a theory that I found completely incorrect, by the way. She wasn't difficult in the least.), but when you have two at home no one says anything. I'm really not sure how much sleep I'm getting. I don't even want to know. I learned in nursing school that it's usually better if you don't count how many hours of sleep you got last night.
Poor Roo is a very enthusiastic big sister, but she is a bit lonely. The spotlight has been on her for the last 6 years and she just isn't used to waiting to have my attention or getting by with less of it. To her credit, she absolutely adores her baby brother and pretty much finds him endlessly fascinating. She is such a little mama. Woman after my own heart. Tomorrow we are hopefully going to get signed up for swimming lessons--she needs a little outside entertainment.
My body doesn't seem to be bouncing back. I'm still in a considerable amount of pain, and I feel really run-down. It has honestly been very frustrating for me. I find it shocking that this c-section has been so brutal when I had two c-sections in 15 months with Matthew and Roo. I wasn't expecting surprises when it came to my recovery. I'm just hoping I start feeling better soon. I need my body back in fighting shape. Trying to be patient and gentle and all that crap with myself, but come on.
Winter refuses to relent here in Nowhereville. It's driving me absolutely crazy. It snowed over 15 inches here the other day. It really stresses me out that I'm still worrying about road conditions when Jerry leaves for work in the morning.
Speaking of Jerry...he is working too much. Between the commute and the long hours he is hardly ever gone less than 16 hours a day during the week. I just do my best to make sure he eats, kisses the kiddos, and gets to bed quickly. He is such a good sport about it all. He never complains, but I can see how tired he is.
We both agree that we are not living in a place we want to stay long at. We really want to move closer to a city and ASAP. Seriously. I (We) hate it here. I feel like we've given it a fair shot at this point. It's just not for us. I mean, the pregnancy was about 4x as difficult to get through because of the distance between the hospital and home. If we ever want to try for another baby, we've agreed that we absolutely cannot do it 3.5 hours from the hospital again. I've mentioned that the grocery store is the size of a gas station, right? And that there are absolutely no stores, restaurants, etc? No activities for Roo (the swimming lessons require a one hour commute each way)? And my internet service is only available through a phone line?
Now that Little Man is here safely, we are turning our attention to getting Jerry a different job that will allow us to get the hell out of here. Hopefully quickly. It really can't happen too quickly as far as I'm concerned.
I'm just starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to the medical bills, so that's something positive. And I can get a job in a couple months or so, provided I can find adequate child care in this hell hole. Just the thought of leaving him with someone else give me anxiety....
I'm really glad I took Jerry's advice and only enrolled in one class for this session. Because it's kicking my ass. I am barely meeting deadlines, but it's no longer because I procrastinated. It's because I can barely find time to put on a clean shirt, let alone write a paper.
Never a dull moment around here.
The truth is that these are all pretty great problems to have. Sleep deprivation, job options, school overload. At least I have my wonderful little family to make the days brighter. I've been behind on commenting--I'm still reading!
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
To My Son on His 7th Birthday
Dear Matthew,
I usually feel almost silly writing to you, but I feel compelled to do it today. I believe you know my heart and that nothing truly needs to be said in writing. I believe you know exactly how much you are loved, how much you are missed. Yet today I find I want to say these things. Out loud, on paper, from the rooftops.
Your baby brother screamed for a good portion of the night, a testament to his fully-formed lungs. So I was awake at the hour of your birth yet again. It seems something always wakes me up on this day. I told your sister that today is your 7th birthday, and she asked if you were coming down for it. I think you are almost as real to her as you are to me.
I cannot believe you are 7 years old today. I cannot believe that in a few days it will be 7 years since we held you in our arms. It seems unfathomable. After 7 years I still catch myself picturing the way things were supposed to be. It's not difficult; I don't even have to concentrate very hard to see you here with us, what life would be like if we got to keep you.
After 7 years, it hasn't gotten any easier. It seems to get a bit harder. Every time I have to add on another year that we've been without you, another year that I've missed out on with you, it hurts a little more. People think we are used to it by now, that we've "healed" or something, but that just isn't true. Grief can still completely pull me under with its random cruelty, the same as it could in the months after you died.
When I look at my children, I want you to know that I always see 3 of you. You are always there with them. You will always be my first baby, the child of my heart. There will never be a day that goes by when I don't think of you, miss you, wish you were here with us.
Happy 7th Birthday, Matthew Chase!
Love,
Mommy
I usually feel almost silly writing to you, but I feel compelled to do it today. I believe you know my heart and that nothing truly needs to be said in writing. I believe you know exactly how much you are loved, how much you are missed. Yet today I find I want to say these things. Out loud, on paper, from the rooftops.
Your baby brother screamed for a good portion of the night, a testament to his fully-formed lungs. So I was awake at the hour of your birth yet again. It seems something always wakes me up on this day. I told your sister that today is your 7th birthday, and she asked if you were coming down for it. I think you are almost as real to her as you are to me.
I cannot believe you are 7 years old today. I cannot believe that in a few days it will be 7 years since we held you in our arms. It seems unfathomable. After 7 years I still catch myself picturing the way things were supposed to be. It's not difficult; I don't even have to concentrate very hard to see you here with us, what life would be like if we got to keep you.
After 7 years, it hasn't gotten any easier. It seems to get a bit harder. Every time I have to add on another year that we've been without you, another year that I've missed out on with you, it hurts a little more. People think we are used to it by now, that we've "healed" or something, but that just isn't true. Grief can still completely pull me under with its random cruelty, the same as it could in the months after you died.
When I look at my children, I want you to know that I always see 3 of you. You are always there with them. You will always be my first baby, the child of my heart. There will never be a day that goes by when I don't think of you, miss you, wish you were here with us.
Happy 7th Birthday, Matthew Chase!
Love,
Mommy
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
15 Days
Today was....so very hard. Tanner is 15 days old today. It's gone by so fast. It's such a short amount of time, but there has been so much love crammed into the last 15 days. It's hard to remember a time when he was not woven into the fabric of our lives. He fits right into our little family, and I spend huge portions of the day just soaking him up. Sometimes he'll be sleeping and look so sweet that I just have to stop what I'm doing to hold him in my arms. We've been missing a little boy in our lives for such a long time.
But all day I was thinking of Matthew, and the 15 days we had with him. And I don't feel gratitude today. I feel terrified. What if 15 days is all I get with Tanner? What if he slips away while I'm sleeping (obviously using my little apnea monitor tonight) and not watching him? For that matter, what if something happens to Roo? I've had nearly 6 years with her and it's STILL not enough.
Today I can't find that place where I can say, "We are grateful for the time we had with him. I know it's more than many people get." On good days I can find that place. But it's April, the month of Matthew's birth and death. And my newborn son is 15 days old. So today, I'm angry. I mean...what a fucking rip off. Am I the only one who sometimes looks at people who lost children older than our own and wishes that they could've had as much time? It's ridiculous, really. It's not like anyone who's lost a child has won the time jackpot. We ALL got ripped off. We ALL have gaping holes in our lives where that child once was no matter what age the child died at. Why do I have to console myself with crap like, "Oh, at least we got 15 days with him?" If my child had lived I could just bounce around halfway taking my children for granted like the assholes you run into ALL the time do. Like healthy babies grow on trees or something.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Actually, scratch that. I hate that I feel guilty for sounding ungrateful. The truth is, 15 days really does suck. Am I a bad person for saying so?
If Matthew had lived, I'd be done having children. My pregnancy and recovery from this one were so hard, I honestly don't think I'd do it again if he was with us. If he had lived my family would be complete now. Two boys and a girl. Wouldn't that be perfect?
Sigh. I guess it really never does get easy to get through these anniversaries and landmarks, does it? I don't want to feel angry when I wake up tomorrow. I want to be back in the warm little place of gratitude that I've been in since my little guy was born safely. So as usual, I just took advantage of my blog and dumped all my emotional baggage. I promise I have a few more cheerful posts on the assembly line. With sweet baby pictures. In case that helps.
But all day I was thinking of Matthew, and the 15 days we had with him. And I don't feel gratitude today. I feel terrified. What if 15 days is all I get with Tanner? What if he slips away while I'm sleeping (obviously using my little apnea monitor tonight) and not watching him? For that matter, what if something happens to Roo? I've had nearly 6 years with her and it's STILL not enough.
Today I can't find that place where I can say, "We are grateful for the time we had with him. I know it's more than many people get." On good days I can find that place. But it's April, the month of Matthew's birth and death. And my newborn son is 15 days old. So today, I'm angry. I mean...what a fucking rip off. Am I the only one who sometimes looks at people who lost children older than our own and wishes that they could've had as much time? It's ridiculous, really. It's not like anyone who's lost a child has won the time jackpot. We ALL got ripped off. We ALL have gaping holes in our lives where that child once was no matter what age the child died at. Why do I have to console myself with crap like, "Oh, at least we got 15 days with him?" If my child had lived I could just bounce around halfway taking my children for granted like the assholes you run into ALL the time do. Like healthy babies grow on trees or something.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Actually, scratch that. I hate that I feel guilty for sounding ungrateful. The truth is, 15 days really does suck. Am I a bad person for saying so?
If Matthew had lived, I'd be done having children. My pregnancy and recovery from this one were so hard, I honestly don't think I'd do it again if he was with us. If he had lived my family would be complete now. Two boys and a girl. Wouldn't that be perfect?
Sigh. I guess it really never does get easy to get through these anniversaries and landmarks, does it? I don't want to feel angry when I wake up tomorrow. I want to be back in the warm little place of gratitude that I've been in since my little guy was born safely. So as usual, I just took advantage of my blog and dumped all my emotional baggage. I promise I have a few more cheerful posts on the assembly line. With sweet baby pictures. In case that helps.
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