Big News

(Topic: Pregnancy, rainbow baby)

Hi Friends,

As you may have noticed, there have been some large gaps between posts lately. I am about a year late in telling you this... I was expecting and now have a rainbow baby!

Please note, this post will talk about pregnancy and having a small baby, after having had a loss. If you are in a place where reading about someone's pregnancy and baby is hard, please consider not reading further. I will not be hurt or offended if you do not read this post.
If you do decide to continue reading, please be aware that I will be posting a picture of my living child in this post, but not until the very end, so if you want to read it but don't want to see pictures, you'll be able to. I'll put in a warning before the pictures.

.....

This whole last year has been one heck of a ride, and very overwhelming. You may have noticed that my posts became very sporadic last summer... We were moving, and things didn't go smoothly with the move, either, so I rarely found the time or energy to write.

Then at the end of July, I started noticing weird cravings, and my body feeling different. This is the same way I found out that I was pregnant with Charlie - weird cravings! This time it was for yellow summer squash, sauteed with onions, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. I normally hate any kind of squash!

So that weekend, I took a test with my husband standing by for moral support (it was harrowing either way. I'd been trying for a while, and every negative test was an adrenaline spike followed by sadness or anger or bitterness... ovulation tests became a thing of anxiety, and at some point we realized that I couldn't test regularly, for my mental health. So we were only testing anything if it really, really made sense, and only with moral support). I had geared myself up mentally for a negative result, like so many before, but at the same time, this one felt so different that I was simultaneously sure that this was the one.

My husband saw the result before I did.

It wasn't pale and sneaky, like some early results, or some of the false positives I'd had over the prior year. This was bold and dark pink, just like the other stripe on the test! I barely believed it even then, and yet it was so certain.

We called our family and close friends right away. We wanted 2 things: a network of support if something went wrong, and also every minute of celebration and hope we could get.

I found, over the course of the pregnancy, that I needed others to be excited, for me, because I couldn't manage to do it myself most of the time. I was excited, on one level, and hopeful, and yet I was terrified and anxious, and a total wreck.

This was not made easier by the fact that I get very, very ill during pregnancy, with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. With Charlie, we never got it under control, and I threw up for 9 months. This time, after a mad scramble to find an OB in our new town, I got some medications started pretty early. I threw up about half a dozen times a day for the first 6 weeks, but then got the appointment with the OB and got meds started. Although we had to tweak the regimen several times, and it wasn't perfect at first, we got it figured out to the point where I think I threw up maybe 6 times the whole rest of the 9 months, which is awesome!

But I'd been so miserable the first month or so, that for the next month or so I had NO energy at all. And even after that, you add in the anxiety too, and I wasn't much help around the house at all. Later in pregnancy I also developed Gestational Diabetes. It does go away after the baby is born, but you are at higher risk of developing diabetes yourself (and much higher risk of having it again for any future pregnancies). I was lucky that I was able to manage it using diet, no meds. But it was once again another hurdle in an already stressful time.

I wish I had been able to write, during those months. If you count backward, you'll see I did post a few times early on, but nothing related to what I was going through. I didn't have the words, and now it's hard to remember well enough to really write about. But I can tell you - the fear was immense. When the baby was too little for me to feel it yet, I feared miscarriage every day, every time I went to the bathroom. When the baby was big enough for me to start feeling it, but not consistently, I worried every time it wasn't moving. I went to the OB for many extra doppler checks, for reassurance. I am very grateful for an OB that understood the stresses and the extra need for reassurance that I had. When the baby was big enough to start having patterns in its movement, I was "blessed" with a baby who didn't really have patterns! I was constantly paying attention to the baby, to the point of ignoring many, many other things in life I probably could have been more on top of.

I had therapy every week, like I had been doing since Charlie died. But because we had just moved, I had to find a new therapist. The first therapist I went to was nice, but not a good fit at all. I felt like I got nothing out of those sessions. So it took some hunting, but I found another, who I still see, and who I really like. Sessions with her helped make the anxiety reasonably manageable. Interestingly, I tried attending an online group session for women who were pregnant after a loss, and I found that my level of anxiety was actually somewhat lower than those who attended the group - I actually stopped attending because it made me worry more. The opposite effect of what I needed...

Our plans for the birth were heavily influenced by our experience with Charlie, as you might expect. Toward the end of pregnancy, I was having weekly NSTs (non-stress tests, basically just having a machine "listen" to the baby's heartbeat, your contractions, and baby's movement. How they fit together gives an idea of how everything is going). At one of the appointments when I was also seeing the OB, we talked about plans for the birth. I know loss moms approach this in a huge variety of ways. In my case, I was balancing a wish for a very natural approach with trying to minimize risks. We had pretty much decided for an induction a few days before the due date, but at the 38 week appointment, one of the NSTs showed a slightly alarming result: during one contraction, the baby's heartbeat didn't slow during the contraction (normal), it dipped after... which can mean issues with the baby getting resources from the placenta (not a good scene). Despite it being a one-off result - all other NSTs and the rest of that one were normal - she didn't want to take any risks of the baby having a problem. Especially given our loss background - the last thing she wanted was to raise our anxiety or have another tragedy. So she told us that she felt we should not even go home - we should just go straight to the hospital for an induction. Luckily, because that appointment was when we were going to do birth planning, I had my husband with me. The OB gave us some time to talk it over, and unfortunately we didn't think about stopping for lunch on the way to the hospital! I was induced that day.

I had been somewhat proactive in planning for grief triggers surrounding the birth, so I had a folder in my suitcase with a door sign and a letter to providers, to clue people in about some of the requests I would be making. For instance, we made it clear that this was our second child, and that it was ok to mention Charlie. I asked for things to be explained in great detail to me, because knowing exactly what would happen helped keep me calm.

The birth went really smoothly. They had me on monitors the whole time since the reason for induction was the possibility that the baby wasn't getting enough oxygen or could have issues (the baby did fine throughout labor). They did a very good job of being sensitive to our requests.

Toward what felt like the eternal middle of labor but turned out to be near the end, everything started going very quickly and my OB barely made it in time! They were having trouble monitoring the baby because of how low the baby had gotten, so they were a bit worried and wanted to make sure the baby had enough oxygen. This was the only truly panicky moment for me, because the way to help the baby get more oxygen is to up the mom's oxygen - and I have a long seated terror of gas-type masks from a surgery I had as a kid.

The baby came out fine, though I later learned there was a loose cord around neck and shoulder. This did not cause the blip on the test that made us go in for the induction - that remained unexplained.

It was a boy! The OB held him up in such a way there was no doubt! He was a tad slow to respond initially, so some NICU doctors that were standing by rubbed him down and got him good and mad and squalling, while also getting his birth weight (7 lbs 5.6 oz). Then I finally got to hold my little darling.

....

(Pictures are coming up soon, so this is a good place to stop if you want to avoid those)

....

I think I'll take another post to talk about the hospital stay and beyond. This already covers a lot, what with pregnancy AND birth! I may expound another time on certain aspects of how grief intersected with pregnancy or with birth, as I see how writing about it goes, and if there's interest. I'd also like to talk specifically about how to support a loss mom going through this, based on my own experiences, for those of you who would like to have some ideas of how to compassionately support your friends who have been through pregnancy loss, miscarriage or stillbirth.

Here is a picture of our Sweetpea ❤️. If only there were a little 4 year old Charlie there too...

Our little Sweetpea

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

How I'll Think About Christmas This Year

(Topic: Grief, Religion, Christmas, Pregnancy)

Hi Friends,

Christmas, and particularly the figure of Mary, can be a bit complicated to come to terms with after experiencing infant loss. I've written about this before, exploring how the themes of pregnancy and happy arrival can be very difficult for a loss parent. I've felt sad, during the Christmas season, and I've felt bitter, and I've felt jealous. I struggle with this, since the overwhelming cultural push is to be Merry TM. So it's difficult when you don't fit that mold, and feel doubly bad - first, just the feelings you're feeling, and second, guilt that you aren't happy like you "should be".

This year, though, while talking to a pastor yet again to see if I could figure out a way through the season with less emphasis on jealousy and bitterness, I had an idea, a thought, about Mary and her relationship to Jesus, that just might help.

You see, although Judaism as a religion does not seem to really mark birthdays, and ancient Judaism probably not either, it occurred to me that, as a Christian, we are marking  Jesus' birthday in the holiday of Christmas. And it occurred to me that Jesus is not actually born every year - we are remembering the birthday of one who, long ago, lived then died (then lived again, then went away to heaven). He is gone from Mary's presence and ultimately ours, and we hope, someday, after death to be reunited.
How is that different from me marking Charlie's birthday every year??
It occurred to me that in some ways, it's not. Obviously, Jesus is more widely admired and remembered than Charlie, but when it comes to the feelings I go through, it's viscerally the same: We miss them, we remember them, and we hope (in Christian Hope) to be reunited someday, after our earthly days, at the heavenly river.

I don't actually know if this mindset will help me not feel jealous and bitter this year, but it felt like such a lightning bolt of inspiration and hope, and felt so right, that I have the feeling it might be just the perspective shift I needed.

May this holiday season fall peacefully upon you, regardless of which religion you follow and which traditions feel heavy. May peace rest in your soul.

With love,

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Father's Day Is Hard For Us

(Topic: Grief, dealing with grief, triggers, pictures, loss, stillbirth, pregnancy and infant loss)

Hi Friends,

Charlie was born on Father's Day.

This weekend is so, so hard for us, every year.

It's odd, how my mind works. It doesn't know what date Thursday was that year, or Friday, or Saturday - I only remember the date of Sunday because it was his birthday. But I remember what happened by the day of the week.

That makes Father's Day weekend hard, harder than his birthday date, actually. Because I remember (can't help remembering, which is akin to a PTSD type reaction) based on the time of day and day of the week.

This year, I'm distracting myself to get through it. We're still honoring Charlie with a birthday party, but overall, I'm focusing on other things (and you know, I have plenty of logistical stuff to focus on...).

But I'm triggered by so many things. Even last week, basically anytime in June, I'm much more sensitive. The year Charlie was buried, there were little blue dragonflies in the cemetery constantly. Last weekend I saw teal ones with black wings. Nothing alike, except the vibrancy of the color, and that they were dragonflies. But I cried. I'm on edge constantly, never knowing what thing might remind me.

This weekend is the worst, though.

Thursday was the night Charlie was still fine. The baby was still moving on Thursday, I'm fairly sure. We played a boardgame that night, and I felt him wiggling and shifting. I'd been having braxton hicks all week, so I knew baby was getting ready.

He must have turned to get into position that night, and turned the wrong way and gotten tighter tangled.

Friday something was off. He was sideways for a bit, and I wasn't believed about that, except by my hubby. Baby had been so consistently head down, so I couldn't possibly be right, right?

Saturday was the horrible day. The silent ultrasound. The hospital. All the medical side of it.

Sunday he was born, Sunday we held him.



It's so hard, being thrust into those memories by anything and everything. By noting the day of the week, noting the time of day, just being - just knowing, at this time, this happened.

I don't want to viscerally remember. I want the bad memories to be more distant.



I love Charlie so much. And there was such mixed emotion on his birthday. Seeing his little nose, laughing at his giant hands and feet, after I'd given my best friend such a hard time about her baby's big feet. So many things I remember and never want to forget, but there are so many things I wish I at least had more distance from. So much emotional pain, wracking sorrow.

So, this weekend is hard. This year, I'm leaning toward distractions, and have asked friends to help me find funny or silly or interesting videos to watch (but avoiding trigger issues), so I can laugh, and focus on something besides the deep ache inside me.


This is my baby. I love him, and I miss him so much.

Our family, complete.

My favorite picture from that day. Daddy, holding Charlie.

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Thoughts about Easter

(Topics: Grief and Anxiety, mental health, Easter/Religion, cemeteries)

Hi Friends,

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie.

I have been feeling really, really sad and overwhelmed lately. Sometimes, when I'm feeling heavy, it's very hard for me to figure out why - and knowing why makes it easier for me to either live with the feelings, or to find something to do to help.

I felt like I've been having a harder time than usual staying steady when life threw me curve balls (as life always does, on smaller and larger scales). When my hubby also commented on that, I decided to call my therapist to see if I could get in for an extra session.

(Side note: there is NO SHAME in asking for extra help! I know it's hard. It's hard to know when to ask, and it's hard to ask. It can be hard to admit that you aren't able to do it all yourself. I encourage you to set up support systems so it's easier to ask for help. For instance, I have friends who I trust, who know my whole story and things I struggle with. I can easily vent to them, because I don't have to explain anything. But I also don't want to burden them - so I also have a therapist. Therapists are AMAZING, guys. If you try a therapist, and you don't feel comfortable, it's ok to go to a new one. FIND THE RIGHT FIT FOR YOU 💗💓. Once you find someone you like, the point is that they are trained to help and trained to listen - but they are OUTSIDE the situation. They won't get hurt feelings, and they won't get mad. They JUST HELP. And it's AMAZING 💕💓.)

I got an extra session to get help, because even things that seemed like they should be little were feeling big. My therapist is my outside perspective, and helps me find my rational brain but also helps me acknowledge my emotions.

In this session, she helped me identify stressors that were overwhelming me, or stressing me out, or triggering my grief - even when sometimes it was super subconscious.

I actually prepare a little for my sessions by taking notes on rough days, of what bothers me or big things that happen. This helps guide what we talk about and helps me feel like we use the time a little more effectively (this is not everyone's style - you do you!).

Above the line, notes to tell the therapist.
Below, notes written afterward, with some of what we talked about.

After we went through my list, I asked - WHY?? Why is everything so hard right now?? And she literally sat there and counted things off on her fingers, guys. Counted things back off to me, that I had told her about, but also helped me identify a few more things that had been in the background, that I had not yet seen clearly enough to name.

One was that, the last time we moved, it was not only right after Charlie died, it was literally because Charlie died. We had planned to wait to move until he was 3-6 months old before we moved. Instead, we were in our new place about a month after. So since we're moving sometime this summer, that might be a reason that packing and planning is so hard for me to work on.

One of the other things she pointed out is that Easter is - like Christmas - about a mother, but this time about the son dying. And coming back again...
Mary is a complicated figure for me. Really complicated.

So after we'd identified what some of the triggers were (there were about a half a dozen others, too....), we talked about how to find some relief. Some comfort, and a way through, through the sad and the pain, because the stress isn't as heavy when the sad isn't weighing me down.

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie.

The main solution she suggested was to let myself feel. To spend some time with Charlie, if I could, but to remember and feel and cry and just be, with my pain and sorrow, and weep if I need to.

The universe (God?) listened to my need. I had been worried that I couldn't find time, since it's a decent distance to Charlie's grave; and to sit and feel, I couldn't be rushed. But one of my scheduled items got cancelled, and suddenly I had a whole day ahead of me, to go to my little boy.

I spread out my blanket, and opened the umbrella to keep the sun off (and in case it rained), and I sat down with Charlie, and lay with him, and talked to him.

I told him how much I missed him and how much I wanted to hold him... and I wept.

Tears do cease, at some point. The pain behind my sternum, the pressure in my throat does ease, as though the tears wash out a tightness and release something.

I weeded his garden, and touched some of the decorations and memorials we have for him there.

And I lay with my chest over where he is buried. The closest I can come to holding him.

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie.

It means so much to me, to have a place to care for, that is just his, and his alone.

I have a complicated relationship with Mary, Jesus' mom. Her baby was born alive, which hurts at Christmas. She gets to see him grow up. But she suffers through his death. I imagine that she hurts inside, behind her sternum, so tight it hurts to breathe. I imagine she weeps so deeply she convulses in Joseph's arms. I imagine she knows this pain. But. He lives again. My Charlie doesn't yet.

Jesus died right before a Jewish holiday. That meant that his body had to be dealt with before the sun went down that Friday, and couldn't really be tended to properly until the Sabbath and the Passover was over. Joseph of Arimathea was the guy who put the body in the tomb in the right cloths. He made sure the basics were taken care of, that were important.

But women went to care for his body, to lay him to rest and to say their last goodbyes. Those are the women I watch, in this story. They prepare the ointments to rub on the body, to do the rites of burial and death from their culture, to make things right, as much as you can when someone dies. They go back after their holiday, to finish things.

We know who those women were, because they were the eyewitnesses that Jesus was gone (alive, risen, back).

I care who they were, because they were the grave tenders. The ones who would have placed the headstone and served the funeral lunch and planted flowers with his mom, if it were now.

The book of Matthew says it was Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. The book of Mark says it was women including Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome (so that was a pretty large group). The book of Luke says it was the women who had followed Jesus from Galilee, and also lists them as Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women. In the book of John it's only Mary Magdalene.

No matter who it was, they cared. They took the time to go, and planned to care intimately for his body, hands on. I wish so hard I'd been able to do more of the funeral care myself, for Charlie. This isn't something our culture is used to, anymore. And I did not know to ask for it, and I don't know if I would have wanted it at the time -- in hindsight, though, I miss caring for my little boy, giving him the final kiss in his coffin.

I saw a picture, last month. It was a mama and a papa, tucking their baby into his coffin, into his "forever crib". Seeing that, suddenly my heart longed for having done that for Charlie.
To care for a body, to minister to their last cares on earth, is an act of pure love. Of closure. Of peace within sorrow.

As I lay with Charlie, my breast filling the hollow in the earth beneath which he rests, I felt complete and yet bereft. Filling the hole in my heart, the gaping hole in my life with the closest thing I could.

The other day, I spent the day with Charlie. 

While I was there, I read a book to Charlie. We read to Pookie regularly, and it's a thing we can hold onto - one of the things we'd looked forward to, so much. So many other things were taken away, but that we can still do.

I also read a graphic memoir, called Rosalie Lightning, written by a father whose daughter died of SIDS. His experiences - his raw emotion - reading that while visiting Charlie -
He talked of how a loss parent's attention can be grabbed by other children of the right age, how we can stare, stare at what could have been.

Today is the day before Easter. The in-between. The waiting - for us, who know how the story ends. For those back then, the second day since. Counting life based on the life-changing moment. For me, two days ago was 2 years and 10 months. Since.

Charlie is nearly three. How do you plan a birthday party for the 3rd year since a death?

I'm always aware of how old he is/would be/would have been.

Today is the day before Easter as I write this, Saturday. Some churches hold a vigil, traditionally held from before midnight until after midnight, to celebrate the moment of Easter at the turning point of the night.

We went to an evening vigil service. When the priest was preaching about the Easter life, the Christian life, is to focus on LIFE not death - all I could think was, how intrusive is death. How hard, not to think of loss, even with the promise of life.

Right then, two 3-year-olds started to get restless and play.

My Charlie.

I should have been dealing with a restless Charlie.

Every day, I spend the day with Charlie.

No matter what, he's on my mind. This is a holiday (holy day) about life, promise of life, promise of future life, power over death.

My son is dead.

My religion gives promise, hope.

But everyday, my son is not in my arms.

My son is on my mind. My son is in my heart. Everyday, he is with me. I'm the one staring at your son, thinking of what my son might have said, might have done, and hurting.

I'm the one rocking a teddy bear, because my baby is dead.

I understand the hope with my head, but not yet with my heart. I have to take any tiny bit that my heart can understand.

To the lady who passed the peace to my bear, please know that in my heart, you passed the peace to my son. Thank you. I may cry, but my heart is lighter.

💛

Yours,

Sarah

To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Links to posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them! Nothing else gets emailed.

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss

Constant Inundation

(Topic: life after loss, triggers)

Hi friends,

One of the crazy and difficult things about life after loss is that many, many things can remind me - in some way - of the loss. Whether it's something that reminds me of Charlie directly (like seeing babies and toddlers), reminds me of a symbol for him (like tigers or dragonflies or peacocks), or reminds me of an experience related to him (such as pregnant women, certain baby clothes, or even empty paper towel tubes, they're everywhere. And when one of these reminders brings on a really strong reaction, it's a "trigger" and can result in me getting majorly upset or having a panic attack. Not all of these triggers are going to be obvious, even to someone who knows me, so sometimes it can seem like I get upset out of nowhere.

Then, because of the way this affects the mind of the grieving parent, there can be secondary ramifications, such as the fact that death and loss are an uncontrollable thing, so some loss parents get very particular about planning and control, much like people who suffer from clinical anxiety. Other parents have depression-like symptoms, with feelings of hopelessness. As you might imagine, sudden changes of plans might be a trigger for the first type, and things going wrong might be problematic for the second type. So as you might imagine, since the mental effects of infant loss are far reaching, the triggers can be many and varied, and non-obvious.

I'm mentioning this because you may have noticed that my posting can occasionally be erratic. I try to post loss-related content on Wednesdays and hobby-related content on Saturdays. But lately that has been less reliable. Why? Because there have been hard days, triggers, grief events, and also just generally busy life interfering with writing. It can be very difficult to write about grief, so I try to do it on a day I'm feeling calm and collected. I also try to work ahead, and have posts ready so I'm not writing them the night before or the day of. But if I'm having a string of hard days, of Charlie days, I'm not always able to write. So I sometimes run out of prepared posts, don't have the emotional energy to write new ones, and then something everyday might come up in my life that day, and Poof! No new post that week.

I'm not writing this as an excuse, or a groveling apology. This blog is intended to be honest and raw and show you some of what infant loss grief is like if you don't personally know, and to be a fellow-parent if you are someone who DOES know. So this post is intended to be honest and true about some of the difficulties I face in writing for you.

Over the past few weeks we've had some larger issues come up that triggered our grief (that I'm not ready to write about here), as well as some smaller ones (like seeing an empty paper towel tube while at a knitting shop, like seeing a tiger logo on a public bathroom changing table, like getting to visit Charlie for the first time in a while). We are also planning and packing for a move, and I'm trying to build a business, and hubby's hours are long. It all adds up, and in the end, I'm just tired. Did you know that grief is exhausting? It really is.

So now that you know some of what I'm facing, I'd like to ask for your patience when I'm having weeks like this. I will do my best to still provide content for you to read, when I can. In turn, I'd like to ask for your help in 2 ways:

1) Let me know if you liked a post! Tell me that you read it, tell me why you liked it, or what touched you about it. Knowing that my posts are actually read and appreciated is a HUGE help to my motivation! I even had an email last week from my mom last week, because she recognized the shirt I'd made Pookie's bagpipes out of. It just said something like "I remember that shirt! It was comfy!". Even that little note just let me know that someone was out there and listening. Thank you.

2) Another way you could help would be to let me know what part of my life after loss would be interesting to hear about. To me, since I am learning to live with my circumstances, some things can feel everyday or normal, and it doesn't occur to me that it might actually be interesting for someone to read my reflections on it. Let me know!

Ever with love, and in memory of our baby Charlie and all the other little babies out there whose parents miss them so much,
Yours,
Sarah


To subscribe, find the "subscribe by email" note in the left column and enter your email there. Posts will be emailed directly to you whenever I post them!

Resource list: Visit my spreadsheet at www.tinyurl.com/infantloss