Another baby is born...

It’s strange how a day of joy for many can make my heart feel heavy.

One of my best friends had hear baby on Sunday. He was expected to be born 10 days ago. I was beginning to get worried for him, as I know, from my support group, that bad things can happen when the baby is overdue. I was worried that he would be stillborn – because of course, now, whenever a baby is due, I can only imagine the worst. So, I was happy that baby Ari was born healthy and perfect. I am happy that my friends have this beautiful baby in their arms and that they are discovering the joys of parenthood.

But I’m also sad. I know that it  is a horrible thing to say, but it is the truth. As soon as I got the text message, announcing Ari’s birth, I was excited but that feeling got quickly replaced by sadness. I don’t know if it’s jealousy or sorrow, or perhaps both. I asked myself then and there what makes others more worthy than us? Why can they have a healthy baby in their arms and we can’t? What have we done to deserve this? I’m at loss. I’m happy that they have their baby, but in a way, I’m sad that they did. Why is it so easy for everyone else?

My heart feels heavy and dark right now. I am also very conflicted. I’m happy, but I’m not.  These are my friends, I love them and I’m sure I’ll love their baby. But, I’ll also always remember that Ari was supposed to be Leo’s friend. They were supposed to play together, grow together. Instead, I get to watch Ari grow instead of watching my own son grow. 

Return to Zero will bring me back

Dear Leo,

I wish I could go back to being the happy go lucky person I was before I lost you. But in a strange way, I want to continue feeling the pain. I fear that stopping to feel it means that I'm over it or that I'm forgetting you. 

Most parents feel love, joy, pride, marvel, etc. towards their kids. They feel these things over and over again and everyday. As a loss mother, I only know two feelings: love and deep sadness. And I think the sadness is more intense than the love. Or maybe they go hand in hand? Or perhaps I just can't tell which is which anymore.

This pain is all I have left having and losing you. I read loss articles, knowing very well that it will make me cry. I read them anyway. I seek things that will help my tears flow, that will help me focus on my grief. 

On May 17, Return to Zero, a movie about a couple who have a stillborn son, is coming out on Lifetime (tv network in the US and UK). I know it will be hard to watch. I know it will take me back to a dark place, that it will take me back to those hard days following your death. I know all this but I need to go through it. I need to feel the pain. I need to relive it over and over again. As crazy as this might sound, I feel that the only way to deal with my grief is to be exposed to other stories like mine. This is what Return to Zero will do for me.

Six months, 21 days

Six months and 21 days or 29 weeks. This is how old you would have been. This is how long it has been since we lost  you.

Sometimes I think I'm doing so well, especially when I compare myself to other grieving moms. I don't have a hard time seeing babies or pregant women. I don't mind being around kids. 

But lately, it's been tougher. I wake up and remember that you're dead. I can't focus at work and that is hurting my performance. It's a struggle to go to work everyday. I count the days to the weekend. I get anxiety on Sunday evenings thinking about Monday. I just go through the motions: get ready, jump on the bus, read emails, write reports, leave work and stress out at the though of doing it all again the next day. So many times this past week I ran to the restroom to cry because the pain of losing you is still so real. I would love to just walk away from it all and spend my time focusing on myself. 

Plus, I'm so discouraged lately regarding getting pregnant again. I took a pregancy test yesterday. It's a little too early, I know...but it was negative, again. I was so convinced that I was pregnant. I was feeling some symptoms. I was so sure this time would be it. So sure. 

This is not how I imagined my first Mother's Day

Dearest Leo,

I didn't really feel like celebrating my birthday this year - it could be because I'm getting older, but mostly because it falls on Mother's Day...my first mother's day.

It was not at all like I imagined it would be. In my mind, my first Mother's Day was going to be me, holding the little 3-month you and having your dad spoil both of us on that day. It would have been posting perfect pictures of you and I on Facebook, like all the other mother's out there. It would have been getting calls from friends and family, wishing me a happy first Mother's Day.

But no, that is not what was in store for me. I had planned on running a 5K race on my birthday. I wanted to start this new year with something a little intense, something that reflects my life right now...just running from the reality, running from the pain - running makes me feel light and free. It makes me forget. So, I woke up early and started getting ready. Then I walked to your picture that is placed in the living room beside a picture of your dad and I. I touched your face and broke into tears. This is not how I imagined I would spend Mother's Day - caressing your cheek through a framed picture. This is not what I wanted.

The race itself was fun. I ran with a few friends and had a great time. Then, I went for brunch with a few friends. A few friends didn't show up. Everyone at the restaurant was with their mothers or their kids. And there I was, sitting with a few friends 'celebrating' my birthday and secretly mourning.

We ended the day by going to an evening mass. Of course, the priest wished all the mothers or women with motherly roles. At the end, he asked all the mothers to stand up for a blessing. I didn't know what to do, but your dad asked me to stand. I started my day with tears and ended my day in tears.

A few people did wish me Happy Mother's day and offered me flowers. It felt good to have others acknowledge that I am a mother, even though you're not here with me. Even though I don't get to post pictures of our perfect first mother's day together.

I did post something on Facebook though. I did post that I celebrated mother's day. I posted pictures of flowers, a picture of you and one of my mom. People might think I'm going crazy or lingering in the past. But I don't care. You will forever be my baby and I will forever be your mother and, as hard as it might be, I will celebrate every single Mother's Day from now on.

Carrying you longer

Dear Leo,

When I hear stories of women who gave birth at 40 weeks but had a still born, I feel like that is worst than what I went through. They were ready to have a baby, they told their friends and family they were about to delivery, they had a baby shower, the nursery ready, the clothes and toys purchased. They were so close to becoming parents.

Then I think about our story. Giving birth to you at 23 weeks was unexpected. I still wasn't ready, hadn't had a baby shower yet, had not purchased all the thigs you need, had not assembled your crib. 

But lately, I am a little envious of those who got to carry their babies full term. They had 40 weeks with their baby, I had 23. I wish I got to carry you longer, I liked knowing that you were with me. Unlike those who went full-term, I didn't get to feel your kicks, your hick ups, your summersaults. I missed out on all of that. I had just started feeling some flutter. That is all I felt. 

I regret not talking to you while you were in my belly. I regret not singing or reading to you. Had I known our time together would have been so short, I would have taken more time to really be with you. 

These past 2 days I've begun feeling like I'm carrying a baby. I don't know if I'm going crazy, because I'm not pregnant. Maybe I'm feeling something else...whatever it is, I like the feeling. It reminds me of when you were in me, growing safely. It reminds me of my excitement and hope for our future. 

I really miss you Leo. 

Hospital bills

Dear Leo,

It's been over 6 months that you've been gone and I am still receiving hospital bills. It makes me so angry and upset when I receive these medical bills. When will they stop coming? They are a constant reminder that you died there - what exactly are they charging me for???

The latest one was $4,000 for nursery fees. You never even went to the nursery! You stayed in our room the whole time we were in the hospital. I hate that they are trying to cheat us and I hate having to call the insurance company to fight against these charges.

Last week I called my medical endurance and they told me they are charging me because the patient (you) is not listed as a dependent and is therefore not covered. I then had to explain to them that it didn't make any sense for me to add a dead baby to my insurance. 

I make those calls every 2 weeks. Explaining over and over again, to complete strangers, that you died. I hate doing that because they don't care about you. They don't care about me. They just care about getting their money.

I also find myself getting overly angry with the insurance customer reps just because I can. Just because it's easy to be angry with someone you don't know, someone who you don't see. It's not their fault, I know, but it's much easier to be angry with them than with myself.

I envy the old me

I lost count of how many times I've attended the parent support group. It's probably been at least 5 or 6 times. Every time is different but one thing remains the same: there are always new people in the group. 

Every month, more grieving parents join our "club". My heart always sinks to see that more people went through this. When I hear their stories, I cry for them. It reminds me of the sharp pain one feels the first few weeks after losing a child. I see myself in them, I know they will eventually feel a little lighter, but I can feel what they feel. I relive the experience. I feel their pain, their anger, their despair.

The first weeks and months after losing Leo, I didn't know if I was going to be able to make it through life. It hasn't been easy. Leo's birth marked a major milestone in my life - that day changed me. I envy the old me, the me that never lived through a tragedy, that never lost anyone that was close to me. But that seems like so long ago; though it's  only been 6 months.

 Tomorrow is National Bereaved Mother's Day and I'll be volunteering at the March for Babies - I am doing this for my baby but also for all the other little angels.