I suppose an update is in order...
Life is moving along. I am doing surprisingly well... better than I would have imagined mysef doing in this circumstance before I actually had to be here. But the last few days have been difficult again. Not entirely sure why...
I will try not to be a TMI (too much info) blogger... the intimate & raw details of my life seem so exposed right now that my sensor is a little off.
I have been to see my OBGYN. The preliminary autopsy results (we won't get the full results for weeks, maybe months, yet) give no real answers. Makenna was developing completely normally, but delayed. She was approximately 4 weeks behind in development from where she should have been. The umbilical cord was abnormally long, which can be a sign of placental problems... which would affect the amount of oxygen and/or nourishment she was getting... which would explain her delay in size... none of which can be confirmed yet...
None of which really makes a lot of difference.
There isn't really anything that would make it "okay" that we lost her. It just gives us logic. I suppose logic is somewhat comforting - to the mind at least.
I had my 6 week "post" blood work done. Once again, felt like I walked out of there a raisin. Until this experience, I never wondered if it was "safe" to have
that much blood taken. I appreciate the science & my OB's hope to prevent this from happening again - but wow.
I have been so fortunate... I have the MOST amazing friends that anyone could ask for.
So many people wonder what to do or say when someone suffers a tragedy like this. Not my friends...
They got together, made a beautiful card for me full of encouraging & loving words. My favorite words however, were these:
"We have arranged and paid for a cleaning service to come to your home for 1.5 hours, once a week for the next 9 weeks. This service will begin on Tues. Jan 5th at 9am, unless you call the following number to make other arrangements because that day/time doesn't work"
Seriously?!?! I honestly wept for most of the day that I received that card simply from being overwhelmed. I felt SO loved - and continue to feel loved every time my house is scrubbed shiny clean, by someone other than me!
Seriously, Girls... my cup runneth over.
Evan's preschool teacher also
very thoughtfully gave us this book:
If you can't read the title, it is "We were gonna have a baby, but We had an Angel Instead". It is the sweetest book about the feelings a child has when the family suffers a pregnancy loss. Talks about seeing their parents sad & crying - also about the feelings they have. (Click
HERE for the link to purchase). It is a great resource & such a thoughtful gift.
I think the last couple of days have been hard because I feel the pull of the tide. I was so buoyed up in the beginning by the throngs of our friends, family & even just casual acquaintances who shared the deepness of our tragedy. Some almost as poignantly as we did. It was truly a wave of support. I have felt the prayers & thoughts of these people help us to shoulder the pain.
As time goes on, they are naturally (and understandably) returning to their own lives & our tragedy has lost it's sharp edges for them. So now, 6 weeks later... what was "all of our tragedy" is becoming just mine - and it is starting to feel heavy again. Some days too heavy to shoulder & I fear it might crush me. My other children & amazing husband help me through. I am rediscovering strength in my character I had forgotten or didn't know was there... but weakness, too.
I saw this on a Stillbirth Support Group site that I have been frequenting as of late & thought it was so eloquent & so perfectly described my current experience, that I had to share...
New Normal
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is staring at every pregnant woman wondering how far along she is, then thinking how far along I should be and imagining I am still pregnant as I should be. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it can't ever happen.
Normal is no matter how many or by what means we have children, there will always be one missing.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember my baby.
Normal is I will celebrate my childs birth and mourn the death all on the same day.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having your child die is unnatural.
Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone because you are stricken with grief over the loss of your child.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is some days being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food.
Normal is avoiding friends because the site of them and their new baby tears my heart in two and reminds me again of what I lost.
Normal is finding excuses not to go to baby showers and birthday parties because you don't want your loss and sadness to overshadow anyones special day.
Normal is having to bite your tongue when people say stupid things because you know they mean no harm, they are just ignorant.
Normal is being avoided by people who know because they are uncomfortable talking about it.
Normal is I NEED to talk about it.
Normal is everyday finding the strength to get out of bed even though there are days you feel like you can't.
Normal is knowing that 80% of relationships will not survive the loss of a child and wondering if you will beat the odds.
Normal is blaming yourself and wondering if others blame you too.
Normal is knowing that I will never again be able to enjoy a pregnancy because it will be plagued with fear and remembrance of how this one ended.
Normal is I wouldn't give back the weeks I shared with my child because sometimes love is so great that saying hello and goodbye in the same moment is worth it.
Normal is knowing I will never "get over" this loss, in a day or a million years.
And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
I don't want to give the impression that I am inconsolable. It is not the case. I do have much to be thankful for. My children make me laugh daily - even on the rough days.
The healing is happening, but the wound is still fresh. It is a week to week, sometimes day to day, or even hour to hour experience. The last 48 hours or so, I feel weak. I feel fatigued from it all.
Your prayers and thoughts help in ways I could never explain... I appreciate them all.
