Letter to My Littles: Winter 2012

My darlings: I had a rough winter, and so I was unable to write you a letter in January. I still love you though, and you have both grown tremendously.

To my Infanta: you chatter and sing all day long, and dance whenever there is the slightest hint of music to do it to. Your thick, wavy hair (so like mine) curls to your waist, and looks amazing even if you haven't let me comb it in a week (or more). Have I mentioned your strong will recently? You continue to thrive at school, and when challenged, can read off any letters you see. You're also spontaneously doing simple addition and subtraction; not sums on a worksheet, but real-world math, noticing how many buses we pass on the way to school, or how many pieces of sandwich are left.

To Elessar: you are a toddler now, in everything but actually toddling. You'll get to the walking when you're ready, even though I'm starting to get a little anxious about it. You're so busy exploring and playing and learning to climb that you just haven't bothered with walking yet - although when you do finally let go, I know you'll be thrilled and wonder why you didn't do it sooner. You recognize photos of yourself - "Ewwy-a!" - and know how to make the touch screen on my phone go. In short, you are everything a mother could want in her 14 month old baby.

To my spirit babies: two more joined your number this winter, a major reason I didn't post a month ago. I kind of imagine you all watching us like the brothers' ghosts in Stardust, sitting in a group and sending love. I think of you often, and miss you always.

Thoughts of a Thursday

* I've made it to the second trimester! By some definitions, anyway. Others say it's not til next week. Either way, I've made it past 12 weeks, when the chances for miscarriage drop to nigh-miniscule.

* I'm trying to make myself believe that I really am pregnant, and that I really will be having a baby at the end of this year. I'm oddly detached still. With the Infanta I was so excited, so in love with my baby; this time, while I want it so much (I think ;) ), my innocence is lost and I'm a lot more reserved about bonding. I'm really looking forward to my next appointment, and the reassurance of hearing the heartbeat. I really want to feel movement... but it's too soon for that.

* The Infanta is 2. How did that happen?! She's still very sweet, bright, and usually well-behaved, but she does throw a fit every now and then. I find that the fits happen less if I give her some warning about a change that's going to happen - we're leaving the park, it's time to get dressed, time for bed, etc. That way she gets to process her reaction and is often leading the way by the time it's actually time to go! I need to remember her transition process more often; it's how I work, after all.

* Well, we're still nursing. Sort of. The Infanta has begun asking to nurse at times that we haven't at nursed in months, and the bedtime nursing is often either hard-fought (on my part) or a delay tactic (on hers). Between her lazy toddler latch and my pregnancy-sore breasts, as well as my bare trickle of a supply, nursing is very painful for me and pretty unsatisfying for her. I'm very close to calling it quits for good, but I can't quite bring myself to yet. I'm pretty sure I don't want to tandem nurse (I don't anymore, anyway), but I'm just not quite there on stopping with my darling girl.

Mother's Day Musings

Last year was my first Mother's Day with a child outside my body (the year before the Infanta still had three weeks to cook). I was also miscarrying, and knew it (though I hoped very much that I wasn't). So I think Mother's Day will always be tinged by the sadness of remembering a child that was not to be.

However, this year I'm almost eight weeks pregnant, with every sign, including morning sickness and an almost complete lack of knitting mojo, that this one's going to go all the way. I'm even starting to show! (Although if you didn't know me well you might just think I've had too many sodas; I'll try to get a picture up in the next couple of days.) After so many losses in the last year, I'm still anxious about whether Elessar will stay with us, but I'm cautiously excited that I'll have a new baby by the year's end. Mostly right now I'm just tired and sick (I have a cold on top of the morning sickness); those two don't leave much room for anything else between them.

Hard Choices

It's funny how writing things out makes them easier to cope with. Since I wrote my last post, I've been doing ok again.

But... I've come to a hard realization about nursing. I'd been saying that if I couldn't get a pregnancy to stick by the time the Infanta turns two, I would wean her... and it seems my subconscious has decided that I should wean her by then, anyway.

I'm pretty sure it's the right decision for myself, but I'm still feeling pretty ambivalent about it. I didn't ever have a time I wanted to wean by, but always said at least two years, because of the WHO's recommendations (which say at least two years, and then as long as mother and child wish to continue). I figured I'd probably go longer than that... but it's looking like I won't now.

You see, I think the reason I'm having trouble staying pregnant is that for me, nursing is disrupting my hormonal balance just enough. Many, even most, women don't have that issue, but I think I do; I think I have low progesterone anyway, and nursing is disrupting that even more. And while I want to breastfeed the Infanta as long as I can, I also need to balance that with my desire for more children. She is certainly old enough that she doesn't *need* breast milk for nutrition, and she is well able to ask for (and receive) other kinds of nurturing.

On the other hand, nursing the one thing I can do for her that no one else can, and I find that that is a very big part of my identity as a mother. I have no doubts that I can shift its place - "I nursed her for two years" instead of "we're still nursing" - but it's not going to be painless. Nursing is a very special relationship, and once it's over, it's over. I don't want to nurse forever, but am I really ready to be done?

If I turn up pregnant, though, we're done, cold turkey.

Checking in about checking out

February was a difficult month for me. March looks like it's going to be harder.

There has been a lot going on; visits with friends and the Olympics to name a couple. A brought Baby J home, and we've spent a good deal of time hanging out, and I've gotten to enjoy her teeny sweetness a lot. A swears that Baby J needs me to hold her in order to poop, and so far we haven't seen anything to disprove that. (oh, darn, I have to snuggle the tiny one?) I also decided that for the sake of my own sanity, I needed to cut down how much the Infanta was nursing; she's down to about three times a day (plus whatever during the night, which has become usually not all that much), and has taken it pretty well. She still asks, but accepts when I say no, because it's not time.

The Infanta also dove straight into a huge developmental and physical growth leap in the last couple of weeks. Her clothes are getting short, and her language sophistication increases by the day. As the natural flip side, she's also become prone to ginormous tantrums, as incidents insignificant to us trigger huge emotions that she doesn't know how to cope with yet... not to mention the further development of her contrary side. (I wonder where she got that?) It's very difficult and frustrating for us to cope with, but nothing anyone who's parented a toddler hasn't dealt with. Still, it's new to us, and J and I are struggling to figure out our compromises in parenting style at the same time the Infanta's changing so rapidly.

Trouble is, I'm beginning to not do so well all on my lonesome. I was able to almost forget about the baby (babies) I should have been carrying for a little while, but I have become aware again, and the grief is triggering my depression. I've found myself dissociating a lot in the last few days, and beginning to lose interest in pursuits I'd been enjoying. It's like that last pregnancy was more real to me, because I was so aware of it and had it confirmed so clearly, and had allowed myself to hope... and then those hopes were dashed as I knew the moment I passed what baby there was. And now I know exactly how far along I'd be, because the due date would have been the same as the Infanta's... It's not that I'm dwelling on it. It's that I'm trying to go about my life, but it's reaching up and dragging me away from that life - I had gotten so far behind on dishes, for example, that I ran two loads today and still couldn't get them all. and I won't talk about how long some of this laundry's been waiting to be folded. But... I don't cry easily, not for myself, and had forgotten until a week and a half ago that I hadn't cried about this last miscarriage. At that time, I was able to squeeze out a little moisture, because I was at a memorial... and a couple of nights ago someone said something that made me tear up a little... but I still haven't *really* cried, and I can feel something like a tidal wave building up, and I don't know how to let it out.

Give me my ink!

I've been thinking about getting a tattoo lately. I want a permanent mark on my body to echo the permanent mark on my psyche left by the babies I won't ever hold. I'm now about six weeks from the EDD of the baby I lost in May, and it's really been hitting me hard that I might have had a Christmas baby; I don't expect to have a very happy holiday.

Anyway, The Unnecesarean ran a post yesterday about anesthesiologists being hesitant to place epidurals in women with lower back tattoos (the placement I've been envisioning for mine). Given that I don't ever want an epidural, bring on the ink!

Finally, an answer.

I'm not ready to write extensively about this right now - for one thing I'm just too physically tired - but I want to get a post on this out into the ether.

Yes, I have miscarried, again.

Four very rough weeks of couch rest, uncertainty, and bleeding later, the answer is that I was indeed pregnant, and I am indeed no longer so.

I don't know right now whether or not I will write more about this in the future; I probably will, but right now I want to focus more on resting, healing (body and soul), and enjoying my beautiful daughter than on the grief of four lost pregnancies in five months.

My friends, I love you all very much, and appreciate the support you have given me in the last few weeks.

Irony

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Memorial Day, and the irony is that I'm in too much pain right now to talk about either my pain or the irony.

Updates

So, I imagine you're all wondering what the whole bedrest thing is about. Yes, I'm still under orders to rest as much as possible; not technically bedrest, but I can really tell the difference in the way I feel between sitting and lying down.

So anyway, here's the deal: I'm currently pregnant. The problem is that I've been having a lot of spotting, to the point that it's a "threatened miscarriage". The way I've been feeling I think the bean is likely to stick, but it's not sure yet, and besides, my feeling may just be wishful thinking. But the morning sickness is real, and so are the food aversions, the heightened sense of smell, and the tender belly.

The part that really sucks is that as part of this rest cure I'm not allowed to lift more than 20 pounds - and since the Infanta is just about exactly that weight, I can only lift or carry her in brief and urgent moments. Also, trying to rest with a sick toddler is nigh impossible...

So that's what's up with me. I will post updates as they're available.

It sneaks up on you

All this month so far, I keep thinking randomly: "I should have been five months pregnant." I didn't think I would still be hurting this much at this point. I know I will never be 'done' grieving, but I didn't think it would still feel this fresh. What will New Year's bring? That would have been my due date.

Blues

Despite having spent the day with Karinda and Bethany (which visit was wonderful and uplifting, even if we didn't all get to pick blueberries together),I'm really down tonight.

Part of it is that I'm still processing the birth I was at earlier this week. Mostly, though, I think it's how that experience is synergizing with the fact that at the same time, I was (I firmly believe) passing my second chemical pregnancy in a row. That would be three pregnancies I've lost since May. We weren't even officially trying this last cycle! (Not that you'd have known it... *whistles innocently*)

I'm planning to contact my reproductive-type care folks and get myself checked out, but the thought is really scary. Like, how do I prove the chemical pregnancies? What if they find something wrong with me? Worse, what if they don't?

I'm going to try my best to set this aside for tomorrow, and enjoy my day at Sock Summit, but I think it's going to be very difficult. Right now I feel like I'm moving through January-chilled molasses; my shoulders ache, my head aches, heck, even my eyes ache, and I'm having a hard time keeping them open.

And of course the Infanta chooses this time to (apparently) start a growth spurt and teethe, so she's extra super-duper fussy and clingy. Ah, the joys of motherhood...

Lifting the silence

Yesterday's memorial for Baby P was hard, but beautiful. Bethany has spoken better about it than I can, but she is a writer, after all - at least, a more practiced one than I.

I wasn't going to go; I'd only met C once before. But she wrote something in sympathy for my miscarriage that helped the most of what anyone said, and so I felt that I should be there, to lend what support my presence would bring. C said she was glad I came.

I was glad I went: I got to cry. I hadn't yet been able to cry for my own loss; I can't when I'm on duty, and a mom with a toddler is always on duty. So I left the Infanta at home, and joined this amazing community in mourning. And I cried. I cried for Baby P; I cried for C, and for her family; I cried for me, and I cried for my own babe-not-to-be. I'm still very sad today, and weepy here and there. I keep remembering what one of the speakers said: that in the midst of everything else, there is still love. There is always love. And the remembrance makes me want to cry more, but because the thought helps me release my grief, not because it makes me more upset.

There is still love.

How do I find the words?

C, a woman of my acquaintance and a member of one of the larger mom's groups I'm a part of, lost her baby during birth last night. I don't know the full story, and probably may never, because I do not know C well, but I understand that it was something to do with a last-minute complication. Yes, I'm being deliberately vague.

I miscarried last month, sure, but I didn't know I was pregnant until I was already miscarrying. It was hard, I'm still mourning, but for me the worst part was just not knowing when the physical process would be done so I could go back to living. To carry a baby for over nine months, to love her, to bond with her, name her, to have a shower and prepare an older sibling; to labor with her, and then lose her literally as she is being born... I wouldn't even know where to begin to deal with this.

Please pray for C, for her husband and daughter M, and for her midwives Pam and Emily and doula Katie (not me), and for Baby P, who could not stay with us.

Sick and Tired

So over the weekend, that cough and sore throat turned into a cough and laryngitis. I had a lovely time knitting with the ladies on Sunday anyway... all the chatting did not help my voice, though, and yesterday I was left nearly speechless. I was also a bit feverish towards evening; not fun. Today my voice is a bit better, but I have a lot of phlegm, and am still coughing and feverish. Not much fun, but at least half doses of cold medicine are helping me sleep better at night!

I got out this morning and worked in my new garden beds. Many thanks to my friends KC and Heather who trucked their rototiller up from an hour away just to till a section of my front lawn! This morning I mounded earth to form beds, and then worked some old horse manure into them. I planted one bed - pumpkins and two kinds of beans - but realized that I have too many ideas and not enough definite decisions about the other beds to plant them yet. I have starts for tomatoes and two kinds of peppers, and also want to plant more of both kinds of beans, leeks, and zucchini.

The Infanta is becoming more and more difficult to get to sleep. I think what's happening is that she's becoming less flexible about bedtime, and what she thinks is the routine (and it is what usually happens) runs about two hours later than what we actually want to be happening. This means that she doesn't want to sleep until about eleven at night, and then doesn't want to wake up until eleven in the morning. Needless to say, this doesn't work in the real world. So I get her up earlier in the morning - nine-ish, maybe - and then she's cranky all day. In the evening, I've been trying to get her to bed by her sleepy cues, but she doesn't want to be in bed then, she wants to nurse and play more. If I stay in bed after she goes to sleep, she will stay asleep, but if I get up to attempt a little me time (for example, to write a blog post), she will wake up crying fairly quickly. She woke in the middle of writing this paragraph! I think the key will be being consistent with a bedtime, and probably establishing a more elaborate bedtime routine than we've had before now. I'm just not ready to give up my evening activities like knitting! Time for more Mama sacrifices. Can you believe I want more babies?!

I'm pretty sure the physical end of the miscarriage is complete. The last several days (TMI warning!) I had discharge similar to the very end of lochia - which it was, really - but saw none today, so I think my body may have cleared everything out finally, and may be ready to begin cycling afresh. That would be nice.

Things I Need Today

- For the Infanta to sleep somewhere other than on me or my boob. I don't mind nursing to sleep, but every 45 minutes gets me no sleep at all. See the time I'm posting.

- Sleep! See above.

- Time alone with my husband, with no baby in the house, preferably for several hours, so I can stop being on duty long enough for a solid cry and nap. See above. The Infanta napping solidly while away from me would be frosting.

- To not be sick. I don't know where this combination of heartburn, nasty sore throat, and cough came from, but it needs to go back. Haven't I had enough crap this month?

Frankly, I need item 3 the most. All else would be much more tolerable after few hours' uninterrupted sleep and that cry I keep having to put off.

Life goes on... soon.

And now I get to start integrating our loss into living life.

After a morning spent wrangling with advice nurses (I swear one was trying to convince me that nothing was wrong), I got an appointment for this afternoon with an OB. He read my charts, listened to my story, took a look, and yup, no question about what, was going on. He was wonderful, actually. Listening to my story, he asked questions at the right points and showed supportive reactions to others. He was also very compassionate and very sympathetic, using lots of eye contact and making sure I understood what was going on and what we need to do from here.

Which is some more waiting. I fed the vampires* so they could check my hCG count again; if that's clearly going down, then we can pretty much just sit back. If not, then we get to talk D&C. I'm rooting for option A, myself.

But I think I'm just about done lingering, except for that last bit of waiting. It's done, anything more will be cleanup. I'm not trying to push my grief away, the more because I'm not good at mourning, but I'm trying to learn how to integrate it with my joy in and love for the Infanta. Mama and Daddy are having a rough time (his is a whole nother story), but she's also having her own stuff, with learning to walk and an apparent growth spurt... and a birthday just around the corner! Also, I have four good friends expecting babies this summer and fall, one of whom I'm going to be doula for again; I've been joyful for them until now, and I want neither to stop being happy for them, nor to let my grief and envy sour our friendships.

I believe every pregnancy happens for a reason. I wish this one had not ended this way, but it did. I also believe that, although the soul that was attached to this baby couldn't stay, she or he will find the parents he or she is meant to be with. If that's with us, fantastic. If not... some other soul will come to bless us, and I hope it's sooner rather than later!

eta - this doesn't mean I won't gratefully accept hugs!!!


* old family term for getting blood drawn for testing, invented when I was a kid and had six months of strep throat - I had so many blood tests done then that I practically had track marks!