sixth sense

the three were ghosts today and went trick-or-treating for the first time ever. i can't believe how big they are. it makes me sad that that the worst year of my life (maybe even worse than this one, i'll let you know) was their infant hood; that i thought i would get to experience having a single baby like a normal mother. i guess not.

months ago i thought i would dress the kids up as bugs. they love bugs. i spent weeks figuring out what kind of bugs and what i would use to make the costumes. i thought it would be funny to make p@ige a maggot (you know, a baby fly). after she died, i had no energy for complicated bug costumes and resorted to old-school ghosts. i am finding it utterly hilarious that i had enough energy to think about doing complicated shit with a newborn, but without her i had to resort to cutting up some sheets and calling it a day.

maggots...ghosts...anyone else laughing yet?

i still feel nothing, yet i realized today it's more like nothing with a haze over it. there's a sense of something missing, yet there's no pain associated with it. after thinking about it, i realize that sense is living through all of the events i planned for in my head; doing all the things i thought i'd be doing with her. i thought about having her at my sister's wedding (two weeks after she died). i thought about having her for halloween, her costume, bringing her around the neighborhood. i thought about her at thanksgiving and how i'd probably skip cooking this year. i thought about having her at christmas. and then it stops. after christmas, it's just general baby hopes and dreams. i can't wait for new year's eve. i hate this shit.

and so, halloween was a big hit for the kids. unfortunately i was too wrapped up in wondering if anyone around town was looking for the baby i was supposed to have...or thinking about how my baby died.

THIS IS NOT ME.

f*ck you, universe

i use a baby monitor because i'd rather wake up to the kids talking to each other than sleep through it and then wake up to them screaming. they talk for about 45 minutes, giving me plenty of time to wake up like a human being and do the necessary before work.

last week, husband told me he woke up tp a little baby crying. he asked me if anyone was here with a little baby, or if there was anyone around here with a baby we could have crossed monitor wavelengths with.

uhhhhh, no. i don't even know anyone with a baby. there's no one around here with a baby.

i told him he must have dreamed it. he disagreed. i said that must have sucked.





this morning, i woke up to a little baby crying on my monitor.
i still feel nothing.
i'm scared.

double feature

today has been strange. it feels like it never happened.

today i feel like i saw a movie where a girl was pregnant for nine months and the baby died, then was born. she had other kids and they were enough, so she went on birth control, lost weight, started having a life again and lived happily ever after.

i keep thinking DEAD BABY, but it sounds so far away today. i am questioning reality. i feel nothing.

there is fear, though; this isn't it. a thousand and three pounds of shit is about to fall, squarely on the top of my head.

pain-numbness-fear-pain-numbness-fear-pain-numbness-fear-pain-numbness-fear-pain.

foretold

back during my infertility days, i used to have alot of creepy dreams. many of them were about teeth; gnashing teeth, teeth falling out, teeth being pulled out (by me), loose teeth i would fear losing, and finally, shattered teeth with a whole lot of blood. i HATED those dreams. (i hear teeth in dreams signify the fear of not being able to have children. i haven't had a single one since i have...)

i also had many, many dreams wherein i would piss on a stick and get two lines. i would be so excited to have passed the test i would wake up, still thinking i was pregnant.

then there were the baby dreams. i would give birth to a baby (always alive...i mean, who ever has a dead baby anyway??) and think, "wow that didn't hurt at all!" i'd hold her a little, and then tuck her right into the refrigerator.

ummmm....yeah. i said REFRIGERATOR.

i had this dream so many times. a couple of days would pass (dream time) and i would think, "oh my god! i haven't fed the baby!" i would run back to the fridge and get her out of the vegetable drawer. she'd be cold and lifeless, but alot of rubbing would bring her back. i can't remember what would happen after that.

the second day after paige's birth, i asked to see her again. they pulled her out of the fridge and rolled her up to me. she was cold. i didn't bother rubbing her.

my brain made me practice with a frozen baby? did my body know this all along?

good grief

what i'm thinking these days is, just ride the wave.
then i get mad at the ocean.

i have one perfect child

three 2 1/2 year olds make for quite interesting days. their personalities are very different, and so are the ways in which they try my patience. (i feel funny talking about how annoying children are on a blog dedicated to a dead daughter, but this is what i'm living today and i'm going with it.) many days i've thought, "what the hell would i do with an infant right now?? these kids are going to kill me."

but evening comes and then i'm alone, and i shouldn't be. i think about holding her and snuggling and smelling and touching and feeding. i sometimes cry. i always feel that emptiness, and the quiet i was wanting all day stabs my heart.

for the rest of my life, her absence will hurt. the great gift she has given me, though, is that i've been inspired to do things, to be things, at a level i've never known before. i will always be trying to find a way to give her memory meaning, and i think the most important avenue for that is to be what i would wish for any of my children. i will give her life through my own. even as broken as i am, i haven't taken care of myself as well as i do now in years? ever?

i have three children that bring me to the brink of sanity almost daily. i have one child that inspires me to be a better person almost daily. which is not to say that the three don't inspire and the one hasn't ruined me; they do and she has.

but what makes me cry most often is seeing my other children crying. it makes me think about p@ige and how she'll never cry. she'll never frustrate me and make me want to bang my head on the wall. i will never know her personality. my evenings are filled with longing even though i know they would otherwise be filled with alot more frustration.

will my other children ever be jealous of their perfect sister? my feelings for p@ige will never endure the trials that a living child would put them through. i will never think, "i love her but i just don't like her right now!"

only after writing all this down do i realize this is only a new way to feel guilty.
and miss my baby.

window of opportunity

i think i'm getting my first period afterward.

the IUD is inserted when you have your period.

i spent all day yesterday thinking about when i should get the IUD put in. it just doesn't feel right, right now. i've gone through alot of *want a baby, don't want a baby* back and forth already, and husband and i made the decision not to try.

it's not a solid decision to make anyway, with the infertility and all. the decision is NO or MAYBE. i KNOW i don't want to go back to IVF, and so it's either NO and get the IUD, or MAYBE and leave it to chance. i am getting a tummy tuck and tubes tied in 2009, so that would be the deadline. i'll be turning 35 around the time of the surgery.

anyway, i just found myself feeling like i might need a small window of opportunity for conception. like 5-6 months. in reality that's a joke; 6 months for me to get pregnant naturally??? never happen! BUT IT COULD, theoretically. my mind (my heart?) might need to know in the future that it could have happened. i don't want to have regret later, and what can happen in a year can happen in 6 months. my best friend (i should really call her my soulmate friend) told me about someone she knows. she wanted another baby and her husband gave her ONE shot. one session without birth control...and she got pregnant.

I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I REALLY WANT ANOTHER CHILD. I WANTED P@IGE BUT SHE'S DEAD. does it mean that if i really wanted HER i should want another? does it mean that i didn't really want her if i'm thinking i might not want another (live) kid??? my mind is a blender.

i feel like giving myself this small chance will allow me to move on. i don't believe in fate, or *meant to be*, but in a way i do for this. if it's meant to happen, it can happen within 6 months. plus, a year and a half of "is this going to happen?" is a long time to be in limbo.

or i could get my 2nd period and run straight for the IUD.

fault vs accident

it may as well be week one. or two, as i had a way worse week two than week one.
(translation: i feel really screwed up right now.)

i went to the hospital yesterday to pick up the professional photos of p@ige. i also wanted to talk to my first nurse; the one who helped me through the c-section and first day. the one who bathed and cared for p@ige after she was born.

(IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING TO ME???????????????????????)

of course i wanted to thank her (although "thank you" is so superficial it seems almost inappropriate for the situation). i wanted to tell her that she inspired me to go back to school for nursing. i wanted to tell her that i am so utterly grateful that she told me to hold my baby, and that she unwrapped her hands and feet. and that she was and will forever be the only person in this whole world to tell me that my baby was beautiful.
(THIS IS REALLY F*CKING HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! my baby is dead.)
i wrote all the things i wanted to thank her for in a card, because i didn't want to break down like a blubbering idiot and not be able to get it out.

when i saw her face, we didn't have to say anything. we both cried and hugged. we talked for two hours. she really gave a shit about how i am on the day-to-day. she asked me alot of questions and REALLY WANTED TO TALK ABOUT the fact that my baby just died. i love her.

the question weighing heavy on my mind, though, was about the baby. i've had it in my mind that i thought she looked like she had down's syndrome. i thought it when i first saw her and have studied her pictures since i got home from the hospital. it was one of the things i used to try to convince myself that (how can i say this?) she's better off. anyway, i asked. she said NO (and gave reasons). i believe her.

then we talked about the fact that i believe i killed my baby.

i said in part one of *the story* that i gained alot of weight and ate like crap, and that there would be more on that topic. well, i gained alot of weight and ate like total crap and lied to my midwife about it. i lied about my weight sometimes, and i certainly lied about my diet all the time. p@ige was 9lbs, 13oz. the last time i saw the doctor (who i never met before the ER the night before) who performed my c-section, he told me that his opinion was that uncontrolled blood sugar had alot to do with my baby's death.

part of the reason i wanted to decline the autopsy was that i didn't want evidence that I KILLED HER......see, because i already thought it was my fault (the minute i found out she was dead).

i've had a problem with food issues for years and years, and now i killed my baby because of it. it's just another reason she's better off: i don't deserve to have that baby, because it's my fault she died.

then my glorious nurse told me that was hogwash. as an irish-catholic, she could appreciate some good old-fashioned mother's guilt, but that was apparently going too far for her taste. she told me that the doctor had immediately thought blood sugar was an issue because of the baby's size, and asked her about it. she couldn't remember the numbers but told me that my blood sugar was normal in the ER, before surgery, and after. she asked about the size of my other babies (4lbs each at 32 weeks) and told me i just have big babies.

F*CK.

she told me that she believes p@ige looked very healthy. she told me that cord accidents happen even when there's no knot or wrapping of body parts. that if a cord is compressed long enough, that an accident can happen. and p@ige was really big and could very well have compressed her cord, although we will never know.

i've been sitting here, reading many other blogs of mothers who lost their babies to cord accidents and thought, "she's lucky- she didn't kill her baby. it was an accident." i've read about moms who lost their babies to premature labor and how they did all they could, did everything right, and thought, "she's lucky- she didn't knowingly do anything she wasn't supposed to do and lie to her caregiver."

SO WHY DO I FEEL SO BAD NOW???? why do i feel so horrible after learning that p@ige probably DID die of an accident? why do i feel like i am losing my grip, losing my ability to cope with this loss? why is it so much more comfortable to believe that i killed my baby?

i have been coping by desperately convincing myself that i didn't deserve to have my baby, that she's better off, even that i'm better off, that it's all my fault. that i knew the reason this happened, and the reason was ME. i've been feeling like a complete asshole, but i could deal with asshole. i could deal with guilt and blame and shame.

i can't deal with the fact that i was going to have a healthy baby, that i didn't kill her, she just died by accident. i can't deal with the fact that i wanted her, and that everything was so damn close to being fine.

I WANT HER, I LOVE HER, AND I MISS HER. THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH HER OR ME. I DIDN'T KILL HER.

it was an accident? i might become angry about that soon.

ahhhhhh, songs

i think we all know how songs have a way of stabbing our hearts right now. i've heard this first one a few times since *it happened*, and although an unlikely reminder, it is. i think the most unlikely is what's hurting most...

What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
And I don't wanna fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
And I don't want to fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
World was on fire...No one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you
I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
No I don't wanna fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart
No I don't wanna fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
With you............With you
CHIS ISAAK- WICKED GAME

BUT.....i know where i am trying to head. i am trying to face the right direction. and i feel like i can't wait to be settled into the rest of my life. i am tired. maybe someday..........


I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind, pretend that i am weightless
and in this moment I am happy
I wish you were here
I lay my head onto the sand
The sky resembles a back lit canopy
with holes punched in it
I'm counting UFOs, I signal them with my lighter
and in this moment I am happy
I wish you were here
The world's a roller coaster, and I am not strapped in
Maybe I should hold with care, but my hands are busy in the air
INCUBUS- I WISH YOU WERE HERE

I WISH YOU WERE HERE...

denial

when i first saw p@ige, i thought she looked like something was wrong with her. her face looked strange. i guess it's either death, or something really was wrong. we declined the autopsy because we didn't want her cut up. since then, i've told myself there was something wrong with her.

when my kids are screaming their heads off (daily) and i feel like hitting my head against the wall, i tell myself i would have been totally miserable with an infant to deal with at the same time.

when i see or hear about horrible things happening to children (or even grown women), i tell myself that p@ige will never know that pain and hurt.

in three years when all my kids leave for kindergarten ON THE SAME DAY, i will be able to go back to school and soon after get a cash-paying job. i tell myself it will be so great to have the extra financial resources in the house.

i can actually go on outings with the kids next year. they will be three in january and they are finally at the age where they will appreciate it (and i can logistically do it by myself). i tell myself that a baby would have put a damper on that and that wouldn't have been fair to the kids. after all, i have enough guilt over the fact that they didn't have all mommy's attention when THEY were babies. i always thought i would *pay them back* when they got older.

we can start going on vacations again next year. i don't have to convince myself how great that will be...yet somehow this one is the hardest to feel comforted by. probably because i feel sickened by the thought of trying to have that much fun...





i think i'm in denial. i am trying to deny how much i loved and wanted her.
i am trying to convince myself i'm better off without her.
i want to stop, but i don't know if i can face the pain of the alternative.

goddamned up and down

we went to our bereaved parents support group last night. there was a woman there (it was her first time) who lost 2 boys, one at 1 month old, the second three years later at 3 months old. she talked about her life since, and how her pain would keep resurfacing, no matter what. she finally sat among us last night, after losing her boys almost 40 years ago.

today we went for husband's memorial tattoo. i sat there in a daze. i will see her name in print for the rest of my life on husband's flesh. i just feel so numb, yet on the verge of tears, today.

i am hoping that if i'm a good girl and take all this head-on, i will be able to get past it at some point. i am just so all over the place right now. it scares the shit out of me to imagine sitting at a support group in 40 years.

the moderator last night said it's wise to journal about the happy times we had being with our babies. i thought being pregnant sucked and i can only think of one thing. a few times i talked to her and told her that we were in that journey together. labor and delivery would be our special journey and that we would always have that bond.

i just can't believe my baby died. it seems so far away, yet my bones hurt with this pain.

it happened

i've been sleeping like a rock since i got home from the hospital. other ladies at our support group talk about needing sleeping pills, but not me. i lay down and i'm comatose. no tossing, no dreams- just blackness.

last night i had my first baby dream. it was a boy, and it seemed like i just birthed him, he still looked a little vernix-y. his eyes were open!! well, he could talk too, but that didn't seem odd to me at the time. i breastfed him, and everything was fine, normal, great.

i really don't want to have alot of baby dreams. or do i? i don't know. this morning i feel sad but also accepting.

it was nice to have a baby for a tiny while last night.

but don't worry. my brain didn't let me get too hung up on it. after a while, i turned around to see husband making out with some chick. thanks, brain!

to IUD or not to IUD, that is the question

right before i went in for my c-section to birth p@ige, i told the nurse i wanted to have my tubes tied. i didn't realize that catholic hospitals don't allow that procedure, and so, i am still technically able to "decide" whether i want to try to get pregnant again. or not.

the morning of p@ige's delivery, every cell in my being was screaming, "NEVER AGAIN. NEVER DO THIS AGAIN." but by the time i arrived home, i was desperate to be pregnant, to have the hope of holding (that) baby. every moment since, i have come up with every possible reason to have, or not have, another baby.

one flaw in all of this, though, is the decision to get pregnant isn't even ours to make. we have a history chock-full of infertility; besides our triplets via IVF, it took seven years to get pregnant spontaneously. we were pretty shocked. she wan't planned, but she was wanted. alot. but as far as getting pregnant again? not something we have control over, short of another trip to the IVF clinic.

so far, i've already decided that i would go back to the clinic. i even called them AND my insurance company. then i decided that i should get an IUD. after that, i decided that we would just *have fun* for a year and *see what happened*. then i thought we should....................

it went on and on, just like that. poor husband rode my wave, encouraging each choice of the moment.

the fact is, when i'm honest with myself, i admit i don't really want another child. i am simply dying to hold the baby i should have right now. i want that baby so damn bad. i want her brother and sisters to have her, too. i want husband to hold her and love her. i need her but i can't have her. not now, not ever...no matter how many other babies i have.

husband and i decided last night that i will get the IUD. it feels true. it feels stable and in control of my life. and i'll take that when i can get it.

static

dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby. dead baby.

your baby died. you were pregnant for nine months, and your baby died. you just had a c-section to birth a dead baby. you should be so much busier right now. you should be nursing a baby right now. but you're not. your baby is dead. she's pregnant and her baby is going to live. i wish her baby died too so we could bond over it. no, i don't wish that. yeah i kinda do right now but it doesn't matter cause no one knows i just thought that. your baby died.

your baby is dead.

**repeat**
**repeat**
**repeat**
**repeat**
**repeat**


this is what is going through my mind from the moment i wake up to the moment i fall asleep. during telephone conversations, in-person conversations, while caring for three other kids. during conversation over drinks. while watching TV. in the shower. while driving.

ALL. THE. TIME.

does the static eventually stop, or do you just stop hearing it?

*the* story, part two

ok, so that day was spent shopping for necessities for the birth and baby. it was the day before her due date. i hadn't really felt her moving that day, but remembered her acting like a clown the night before.

the early evening was spent drinking juice and molesting my huge pregnant belly to no avail. i would push and prod her, but it was so weird. i would push, and she would just glide right back. i didn't think she was gone, but i thought i sure would love some reassurance. i called the midwife, and because she was about 45 minutes away, and it being saturday night at 8pm, she sent me to a collegue about 20 minutes away. it was a dark, dark drive- country roads, farms, mist rising from the road, fog- but soon i would hear her heart beating and i would feel silly and go back home and go to bed.

i arrived, laid on the bed, and waited to hear something. i heard my own pulse, and it sounded very weak so she put in new batteries. still silence. she told me that his had happened to her before; you know, POSITIONING. oh my god, it couldn't really be the alternative, now could it?

we both went to the couch and called my midwife. we knew the next stop would be the emergency room for a sonogram. we hung up the home and i felt the tears come. i knew what was happening, but i still had hope. i felt shocked, but i still had hope to see her heart beating on a sonogram. THIS REALLY COULDN'T BE HAPPENING, COULD IT?????????

i got back into the car. i pulled out of the rediculously long driveway back onto the dark, dark, misty, foggy, country roads. i was in a horror movie. i would remember that drive, for better or worse. it would be a funny story about the heartbeat "scare", or it would be the worst night of my life, punctuated by the drive from hell.

i was alone when i got to the ER, as husband had to get the neighbors over to sit with the kids so he could meet me there. on top of it all, i knew i would have some trouble with the staff about the fact that i had no doctor. the nurses didnt understand that i had a homebirth midwife and no doctor. in my mind, i was screaming, "JUST GIVE ME A F*CKING ULTRASOUND ALREADY!!!!!" i was crawling out of my skin and they were judging me in their heads about my birth choices.

husband showed up, and shortly a nurse from labor and delivery came in with a fetal monitor. she proceeded to slide that thing over my belly for about 20 minutes, and talked about that goddamned positioning. husband was looking at the monitor while she was working it, and asked about some numbers that were popping up. 120 would flash on the screen, although we didn't hear anything sounding like a fetal heart tone.

it's a small hospital, and we had to wait while they called in the ultrasound tech on-call. we watched the end of survivorman and some ocean documentary on discovery channel while we waited. because of the flashing 120 on the monitor, i still had a little tiny bit of hope.

finally, i was wheeled into the ultrasound room. husband was told he couldn't come, which really didn't even faze me at that point. she started her looking, and i looked at the screen from the side, from the corner of my eye. the picture looked still, despite her moving the wand around...i decided to look away. i stared at the ceiling, at a vent in the ceiling. i thought, "i will remember this vent for the rest of my life. this is what i'll be seeing when she tells me my baby is dead."

what she actually talked about was my other kids (triplets); did i do IVF (yes). she told me she also did IVF for her son (that's nice). then she told me if it was twins or more, she would have aborted all but one (thanks for telling me that while you know goddamned well i'm carrying a dead baby, you bitch!). i finally asked her what she saw (no viability, no bloodflow- those were her words). thanks.

i got back to the ER, and they had moved husband to a private room. we had to wait for the doctor to come in to tell us the obvious. i finally broke down in that room. i felt like i was in a dream, but i knew i wasn't. this would be the most horrible night of my life. i was living the worst night of my life. i felt like i was clawing the walls of a long, long pit.

the OB finally came in (he had to be called in from home as well), and after a little scuffle about how adamantly he opposed homebirth/VBAC (ummmm, kinda irrelevant at that point) we decided i would go home and be admitted the next morning for delivery by c-section. he actually started saying that they probably wouldn't be able to induce me (blah blah blah) because of the previous c-section.......did he really think i was still trying for a VBAC? i don't know.

i got back home and went to bed. i just laid there with my dead baby belly and cried. then i got up and cleaned my bedroom. i think i finally laid back down in time to get about 2 hours of sleep for the big day. when i went to get ready to go, i threw up.

i kept dryheaving nothing. i had nothing left inside after the night from hell......except my baby girl who i couldn't keep.

everybody loves a big fat lie

the week my baby girl was born dead was not the worst. i mean, it WAS the worst week of my life. but in terms of my dealing, there are worse moments NOW.

as things get more difficult, other people get weirder. do they think i should be moving on already? it's only been a month. but i guess if YOU didn't get your almost 10lb baby girl torn from your womb without a cry, without a gaze........i guess it's all in the past for all of them.

when they ask me how i am with *the look*, i say FINE or OK.

will i be a liar for the rest of my life?

i am so not used to this

this is more feeling than i have ever done in my life. every day is a minute-to-minute feeling extravaganza. sometimes i feel ok, until i start feeling like an asshole for feeling ok, saying i feel ok, and finally NOT feeling ok.

tears are coming so unexpectedly, at the weirdest times.

I WANT MY BABY.

my arms are killing me.

how am i going to live like this?

my charmed life

my life isn't really charmed, it's just something my mother's always said. it always pissed me off.

i guess what it's really about for me is how large the difference is between what a life looks like from the outside, and what it feels like on the inside. on the outside, i've always been slim and attractive (hehe... feels funny to say that); in my reality, i live with compulsive overeating and other food control issues. on the outside, i have three great kids (a boy and two girls); in reality, i suffered through 4 years of heartbreaking infertility- to the point where i still read IF blogs and identify so much with them- to the point where, even at 2.5 years old, i still have a hard time believing they're my children. i've never had many relationship problems in the past, but that's because i'm kinda emotionally cold, and i guess that's attractive to men (you know, a challenge). on the outside i guess that seems charmed (especially to my mother). i say i'm just another person trying to be happy despite all that shit.

well, it's almost a month since my baby girl died and was born at full term, on her due date.

i wonder if my mother will ever talk about my charmed life again.

*the* story, part one

we thought we were finished. except for a couple of weeks during the summer of 2006 (when husband was home on temp disability) i thought i might want to return to the world of IF and REs for another baby. when he went back to work and i was again alone at home with three 18 month olds, i realized NO- no more you silly, silly girl!

the three turned two in january, 2007, the same month i found out i was pregnant spontaneously. it was the first time i thought i felt a little off, peed on a stick, and got the magical two lines. god was i shocked. husband was thrilled, and was of the mind that we had done it ourselves, was our miracle baby, etc. i, on the other hand, spent my time totally re-formulating my future in my mind...all the ways i would make it work and convincing myself that it would be great.

one of the ways that pregnancy would be great was that i had always wanted a homebirth, before being blind-sided by the other high-risk pregnancy which resulted in the c-section from hell. although it would be a smidge trickier since i would now be considered a HBAC (homebirth after c-sec), my midwife concluded after review of my records that she would take me on. i could finally experience labor, squeeze a baby out, never go into a hospital, never leave my baby in an NICU, and breastfeed normally. i could take care of ONE BABY instead of three. yeah, that might be cool.

the pregnancy was pretty uneventful, except for the huge amount of weight i was gaining. i was eating ALOT, and not so great (way way more about that later).

at 38 weeks, i had been feeling for days that my baby girl would be coming soon. i was having alot of braxton hicks- stronger than previously. i also felt really menstrual, and a little nauseous. a few days into my 39th week, nothing. i felt fine. what i actually started thinking and saying was, "this girl isn't EVER coming out! she's gonna be born next summer!" my cervix was shorter, but still firm and closed....we would wait for a sign of labor. i figured she'd come around her due date, still a couple of weeks away.

at the beginning of week 40 (sunday, labor day weekend), still no signs of labor. cervix, closed. baby- big...pelvis- roomy, so no worries about that. there was a question about her position, so i went for a sonogram on tuesday to rule out breech. she was alive on tuesday; i saw her heart beating.

that saturday, september 8th, we went shopping for newborn diapers, nursing bras, and other random stuff for the birth. i excitedly watched little babies and girls and looked through little baby girl outfits. her due date was sunday, september 9th and i would surely go into labor soon.

i didn't know she was already dead.

the politics of the blog template

so...here i am. i just spent what felt like a lifetime choosing a template for this here blog. do i go for colors, since i hope i can improve my life since the unthinkable happened? you know, like hope? do i go with black, which is self-explanatory? some shade of pink for my dead baby girl???

i finally settled on dark, with some colored dots. i guess that pretty much sums things up right now; despair with a little hope. plus, there seems to be three colored dots over the newest post, and i have 3 living children...

i guess i've always been one to read way too much into stupid shit.