gone **update**

So it was not the cemetary that removed Caden's belongings. I expected that they had taken them while doing maintenance, but I know they are quite respectful so I assumed they would be in the front office, hopefully kept in a bag together. I was upset at seeing it bare on his 8 month birthday, but figured when I rang in the morning we ould sort it out.

I had a few other, more strange ideas of what happened - that perhaps the cemetary took it in an attempt to get us to finally pay for a plaque for the site. I planned on calling every newspaper in town and telling them how the cemetary were discriminating against us. I was going to create a blog dedicated to badmouthing the cemetary.

Then I thought - perhaps someone will try to ransom us. It's fairly easy to track down the family of the babies. Ring us and say "we have all his belongings. How much will you give us".
My general thought on how I would respond to this would involve "I'll give you an arrest warrant and a very pissed off Auntie with a gun who is legally allowed to shoot you in the nuts if she deems it necessary. She will deem it necessary."

So with all these wild thoughts in my head, I ring the cemetary.
"Hi I am wondering why my son's grave has been stripped bare"
He says "I've already had 4 other families ring in and I can tell you it was not the cemetary..."
Cue me screaming and sobbing and throwing myself on the floor.
In the middle of my office.
Which is not an office but a cubicle on a floor with 20 other people.
Possibly on phone calls to clients.

Got my mother to ring them back and ask WTF.
Apparently the cemetary was 'vandalised' on the weekend.
The perinatal section was targeted.
Who the fuck does that?

I get stealing the pretty toys, the new things, people are sick.
But WHY take the broken windmills?
WHY take the broken glass ornaments?
(broken in the LAST vandalism attack)

I mean come on. What is the purpose of that?
Apparently one other father rang up and said "Why the FUCK would someone steal a half burnt candle!?!"

We will never know. But I can tell you this. My SIL will have a fit. She will go insane. She also has a gun (cop). All our friends are police too. I foresee some kind of operation going on (I'd love to say I'm kidding, but I'm just not).

What is the world coming to?

feels like forever, feels like yesterday

At this time, 6 months ago, I was in labour with Caden.
I was sitting in that hospital bed, talking to Kim, wishing and pretending that what was happening, wasn't happening.

In less than three hours it will mark 6 months since I gave birth to my tiny, dead, son.

I feel like I should be making a big deal of this day. That it is some "milestone".
Maybe if he had been born alive.
But without him, well it's just another day.

the scent of grief

I have a candle that an online friend sent me after Caden died.
It sits on our Caden Cabinet in our family room.

It had such a strong scent in the room for months. Every day I would get a strong smell of it and smile and think of Caden. Recently though, I haven't smelt it at all, until out of the blue three times in the past week. Incidentally, I have had a few rough "caden moments" in the past week as well, where I broke down and cried for the first time in quite a while.

The candle, and its scent, is a lot like my grief.

It comes and goes in short waves, it was stronger in the first few months, and now it is always there, I just can't always smell it.

Time Traveller

I so wish that I could go back in time.

Strangely, not back to when I was pregnant, as so many, I'm sure would. But there is no way to change the outcome, our dear baby was never meant for this world.

No, what I want to do is go back to the days and weeks following his death. I know I was in a sort of shock, but I was okay to be there. Sleeping together in the family room. Never really leaving that mattress on the floor for a full two weeks. Just lying, in each others arms, watching tv and tuning the rest of the world out.

If I wanted to cry, I cried.
If I wanted to scream, I screamed.
If something was funny, I laughed.

I didn't have to worry about being judged, because no-one was there (no-one but my SIL who silently left the room if I started to sob, leaving me in peace to grieve as loudly as I wanted).

I didn't need to hide my broken heart so that people would stop asking if I was ok.

It was just us, no responsibilities, no contact with the outside world.

It is possibly the freest I have ever felt in my life. I was given permission - nay I was expected to grieve. I was expected to fall apart and be a big mess.

Now - not so much.
I think people expect me to be over it.

Never will be

Hey there - still here, still repressing.

Every night I feel the same sensation of tears pricking at my eyes and every night I swallow that lump that rises in my throat and change the subject in my own head. Every night it flashes into my mind. The minute when the doctor said those disgusting words. "I'm sorry (are you, are you really? or is it just your job to say that), your baby's heart does appear to have stopped" (no it hasn't. Check again. CHECK AGAIN).
The panic. God, the panic. My heart stops each time and I have to think of something else quick smart. I am just so fucking sick of crying. Is there no end to the tears we can shed. There should be. If I stop drinking water all together, will that help?

Everything I think of at the moment has an age attached to it. I think of anything we might do, any events coming up. Caden would have been 5 months old. Caden should have been 8 months old...

Should have been...
Would have been...
Isn't...
Can't be...
Never will be...

Turmoil and Ambivalence

Okay, well I didn't realise I had been gone for so long, but Holli has called me out so here I am!

Nothing dramatic has occured, but my life has become infinitely more complicated with dramas and whatnot, and I have simply not felt that I had anything to say here.

My life is in turmoil. My job is in turmoil. My family is in turmoil. My heart is in turmoil.

I feel that I am not enough of a mother because I no longer cry every day
I feel like I am not a good enough bereaved mother because I do not think of Caden all the time, every day.
I feel like I am not doing this right. Because I feel okay.

I have found peace with Caden's passing.
I have found peace with having to wait to ttc.
I have found peace with a lot of things.

There are, however, the emails about births of friends' babies that pinch. They used to stab me right through the heart, and now that has dulled to a quick pain, followed by ambivalence. I am not thrilled for them, but neither am I angry at them.

It was my birthday yesterday. I threw a tantrum about having to go out. I am in a "boo hoo I hate my body, I hate all my clothes they make me look FAT" stage again. If I could have gone out in sweatpants I would have. I cried when i got in the car because I just did. not. want. to. go. To my own birthday dinner. I fear I am becoming somewhat antisocial.

So here I sit, fairly ambivalent about most things in life, with no real emotions one way or another (aside from the infantile tantrums). I promise I will be back very soon, and hopefully with something slightly more insightful to say.

Adaptation

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide. No escape from reality

Is this really me?
Is this really my life now?
Did my child really die?
At times I find myself going about my daily business and I stop....as the thought hits me that "holy shit. My baby died."
Having been one of those overly dramatic girls who in the past caused many a scene in a high school drama queen fashion, it feels at times as though this is some story I have concocted. As though it couldn't possibly have happened to me because things like this DO. NOT. REALLY. HAPPEN. And I always considered that if anyone in my close family died, I would just not be able to cope. I would just fall apart and cry all day every day and just be entirely unable to function.

But look at me.

My baby is dead. The child I planned, desperately wanted, wished and prayed for, carried for nine loving months, dreamed of, and loved...well he died. Inside me. And I gave birth to him. Dead (that word still brings automatic tears). And yet my life goes on.

I have to visit my child at his grave.

Can you imagine that?

Can you imagine going along and taking toys, rearranging windmills and flowers at your child's grave?

How horrific. Who could ever imagine such a thing?

And yet...a quote I heard on tv the other day stands out to me. To paraphrase Nigella Lawson...the human ability to normalise the abnormal, the tragic, is astounding.

It has become quite normal to me to visit my son's grave. To take him little token gifts. To water the flowers other parents leave their babies who are also buried there. To read stories of other deadbabymamas. To look lovingly at momento mori photos of the loved little precious babies who were born too early, born still.

Hmm. Isn't is strange how we are able to adapt.

where to start...what to do

I have let my griefwork go.
I have been ignoring my writing, I have been wrapping myself up in daily life because I felt it was necessary. I have been obsessing. Again.
My eating got out of control. I was eating a few bites of something once a day. I have not eaten more than once a day in months. I started eating again, bits and pieces, and every time I ate, I was in massive amounts of pain. I was sick. Eating actually made me sick. I am working on it. No eating disorder here btw. I want to eat, I just have NO appetite. It is my usual reaction to life events.

I dont know where to start with my writing.

Do I write about going in for an ultrasound - fertility investigation.
About how it felt being in that room, having that u/s, where my last experience involved being told my baby was, in fact, dead.
About how they sent me back out to the waiting room to drink more.
About how there was a mother in there cooing and babbling to her three month old baby...the same age as Caden.
About how she was incessant...about how much pain I was in...about how I wanted to scream.

Do I write about thinking we were going to ttc again...but now we aren't?

Do I write about crying again?
Do I write about how for some reason I have stopped caring so much?
Do I write about how many things I want to do, and how I have no drive to do them?

Do I write about how last night we found out we are going to face a serious, serious financial problem in the next year?
About how I have no idea how we will manage?
About how I feel like I have no options?

I guess I just did...
I feel useless. I feel...I don't even know how I feel.

OVERWHELMED

Life is just too hard at the moment.
I don't like feeling this way, I hate crying every night - even without being 'sad'.
Some nights I cry without even knowing why. I'm not consciously feeling 'sad', I'm not thinking consciously about Caden, but my subconscious clearly is and the tears fall without me even meaning them too.
Everything is just a struggle.
I wish people understood that getting out of bed is a struggle for me, let alone all the crap they keep heaping on top of me. I can't handle having to co-ordinate builders, and deal with flight itineraries, and doctors, and work, and everything.

On the overwhelmed note, Kim's mum is sick. She's coming down for a few months for chemo. While I am glad we will all get to spend time together (they live on the other side of the country and we normally see them once a year) I hate that they are coming down for this reason. I am scared, Kim is scared.

Is 2008 over yet?

not enough hours in the day

I find myself with no time to myself at the moment.
Highly amusing given I only "work" 3 days a week.
Honestly between Rory's soccer practice, the phone calls to and from work on my days off with people frantically searching for files that I have never actually been in charge of...wait I digress...yes. Doctors appointments (mine and R's), dentist appointments (mine and R's), shopping, arguing with banks and electricity/gas/phone/internet suppliers, cleaning, cooking, running errands for Kim, proof-reading tenders (again - on my day off!)...well I'm left with no time to just be me.

I spent the first few months after Caden's death online. Reading blogs, finding new communities. I miss that. I found such lovely people in my travels and I miss them. I miss knowing that I am not the only one feeling this way.

As for feelings, well I have a lot of them. Want to borrow some?

I have found that "f--- you" is my most common thought. I think it every 5 minutes or so at the moment.

I walk into the pharmacy. Am assaulted by walls of H.uggies, bottles and smiling babies.
"F--- You" I think

I pick R up from school and the mothers next to me start. "Oh, did you hear? Ethan's mum had her baby!!! A little girl!!! Oh we all knew it was a girl!!! Yes she brought her in this morning!!!"
"F--- You" I think, and I glare at them with menace.

I go to the dentist. Have a cute toddler thrust in my face. Mother is yelling at baby. Seriously? The kid's like a year old. Stop shoving it and telling it to hurry up.
"F--- You" I think.

I drive down the street. Babies in strollers. Babies in slings. Babies. Babies. Babies.
"F--- You", "F--- You", "F--- You" I think.

I log on to (masochistically) read the bulletin boards I used to post on. New babies.
"F--- You" I think (for the first time I feel guilty...I genuinely love these women)

I turn on the TV. Babies. Pregnant Women. "I'm having a baby!!!"
"F--- You" I think. "that's what you think. Just getting pregnant does not mean you will have a baby".

I read that another good friend has lost another baby.
"F--- You Universe"

catching up

SATURDAY - Autopsy is a four letter word.
I had a challenging weekend. On Saturday L and C both separately asked Kim whether we had the autopsy reports. Hearing anyone use the word autopsy in relation to my son (except me, and my deadbabymamafriends) makes me ill...and angry. I simultaneously wanted to punch them in the face, throw up, scream at them and run away. Instead, I sat perfectly still and pretended I couldn’t hear them.

SUNDAY - Shadow baby.
On Sunday all the kids from the street were playing together in the street. We pulled the basketball hoop out to the footpath and they played for hours. The neighbour with a baby came out and introduced herself. Her baby is 6 months old.
“I so hope there is this kind of community for Joel when he is older.”
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to tell her my baby would have played with hers if he didn’t die. She left, then came back with her baby. I saw her coming. I went into the house and hid. Apparently she introduced the baby to Kim. Kim wanted to tell her about Caden but didn’t know how. I want her to know. To know why we aren’t being nice and friendly with her and her baby. To know that we had a baby, almost the same age, who would have grown up with her Joel and played with him. I need her to know.

WEDNESDAY - I Cried

Today I cried. I cried as I lay on the couch talking to Kim. I cried when I hung up. I cried when I got up to switch on the light, and sunk to the floor wailing at how unfair it is. I cried as I walked to the kitchen, I cried as I opened the cupboards, and couldn’t see a thing for my tears. I cried as I opened the freezer, and sat in front of the open doors sobbing. I cried as I looked for lunch, I cried as I made my lunch. I cried as I ate it.

I’m so fucking SICK of crying. I’m sick of this life of shitty things happening.

3 Month Membership

I belong to a club where I have a lifetime membership. I never wanted to be a part of it. I barely knew it existed. It's a club that I hate being a member of. And yesterday marked three months of membership.

To mark the occasion, I got some orange oriental lilies, wrapped them in blue cellophane and took them out to my son's grave.

I have no words for how this makes me feel.

Bad Things Happen to Good People

Immediately after Caden died I found myself thinking that I must have done something to deserve this. That I must have deserved punishment and I was being punished for something. I ran through all the different reasons in my own head of why I might be chosen to be punished and tortured like this.

And then at some point it came to me.

I wasn’t being punished.

How could being the mother of such a beautiful tiny child be considered a punishment? And as I look around me (figuratively speaking) I see so many other women, good women, compassionate women, loving women, going through the same torture. It can’t possibly be a punishment for wrongdoing. And I have come to believe that we were chosen, to be the mothers of these babies that were not destined to live on this earth with us, because we are strong. We are loving. And we will love these little lost children for the rest of our lives, and honour them in every way we can.

So yes, we were chosen. But not because we were bad people.
Rather, because we are good people.
Because we have it in us to honour these little people in the best way.

It takes an incredible woman to lose their child, and still love and honour them every single day.

Changes

I have returned.

On my very short break from the internet (during which I continued to visit certain sites daily - just lurked rather than commented - yes my addiction to the internet is that severe!!) I reached a few conclusions about certain things.

First. My perspective has changed somewhat on the IVF issue. I discovered that I could handle the idea of the 8 month wait fairly well (because really, time flies) until I start thinking about how other people are getting pregnant and having babies now. I discovered that it was not so much that I couldn't get pregnant now, as it was an issue of jealousy that they were doing it now, and a need to 'keep up' as it were.

Really, how ridiculous. I can no longer set our timelines by other people.

Also I decided to shift my focus somewhat and by giving myself certain projects, I feel that I can better pass the time. Of course tied up in all of this was the receiving of a letter from the head of obstetrics at my hospital - telling me that the odds of me having another terminal baby are very high. Higher than we originally thought, and too high for me to even consider trying to have another child without IVF.

In response to the 'bad' news about IVF (in that it will take much, much longer than I was originally told - and the letter mentioned above) I responded in the only way I know how. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and generally was incredibly negative about everything and anything. I behaved as though it were the end of the world.

On my fifth day of said process (possibly in a state of delirium induced by not having eaten and barely sleeping), I decided enough was enough. I was done wallowing because it solved nothing. I was done being this shell of a person because I know that in part I do it so that everyone around me knows - I am not better. I am not over my son dying.

In some ways, I felt that I was appearing too 'good' to the outside world and I wanted them to know that I was still hurting.

problem is - no-one ever notices.

So it's rather pointless really.

Yesterday I spent the day redesigning my blog. I needed something brighter, something happier. Because while my beloved son dying shook me to the core of my very being, it did not kill me. And I need to brighten up my life and my outlook before I should even consider having another child. That and my surviving son needs me too much.

This is not to say that in a few days I will not fall in a messy heap again - but for now...I think I'm okay. And this morning, in the post, I received an amazing gift. A beautiful bracelet from one of my new friends - the ones who understand me, who will never judge me, and who love Caden.

Thank you Michelle.

Life can be good - it just takes a lot to be able to see it when something as precious as your child is taken from you.

time off

I might be offline for awhile.

I feel like my heart is breaking and I need to take time to curl into a ball and pretend the world isnt turning.

My online friends who read this blog - thank you for your continued love and support.
I know me, I love the net way too much, I'll be back soon.
But for now, everywhere I turn there are babies and pregnancies.
For those of us who have lost a baby and are now ttc or pregnant - I am thrilled for you and your rainbow babies :0) But at the same time, it is reminding me of what I cannot have, and breaks my heart all over again.

So I'll be back when I'm a little stronger, to cheer you on.

Love

ho hum

Despite the overwhelming negativity of the past two entries, I'm doing ok.
I hit a rough patch at work yesterday (which I'm sure I will write about another day).

Despite running on three hours sleep and a ton of coffee (and not much else) I feel okay today.
I did have a moment this morning when I was dropping off Rory at his Vacation Care while I'm at work, there was a cheeky little boy saying goodbye to his big brother and for the first time I had a glimpse of what we will miss with Caden. I could see him for the first time as a child rather than the baby I always see him as. It's making me tear up a little to write, but I was surprised at how the thought didn't upset me like I thought it would.

I'm keeping myself really busy, editing a newspaper, getting ready for the long weekend where I get to meet my SIL's new partner (v. exciting) and going to work. All I want to do though is go home and lay on the couch with a box of chocolates.

So I guess I've settled into a sort of melancholy rather than the deep grief I was feeling a few days ago. Hmm.

Don't know which I prefer to tell you the truth.

hate this. want it to go away.

I feel so sad today.
So fucking sad.

Last night I cried again. And when I say cried, I dont mean quiet tears, I have them every day. I mean gut wrenching, clutching my chest, screaming tears.
It always hits me at about 1:30am-2am. And because Kim has to be up at 5:30am to go to work, I was trying so hard to be quiet. I even went out to the lounge room to avoid waking her up. I gave myself one hell of a headache holding in my really loud sobs. All I wanted to do was wail.

I thought I had it out of my system, so I went back to bed. Kept sobbing quietly. Eventually Kim woke up and grabbed me into a hug as she does. And it broke out of me. I wailed so hard and so loud, I nearly threw up. I sobbed and wailed for a little bit and then was so close to being physically ill that I forced myself to calm down. It felt fucking good to make so much noise though.

And today I'm off work, eating pizza for lunch, lying on the couch with a killer headache watching tv and drinking bourbon. And feeling utterly sorry for myself.

I fucking hate this.

I FUCKING HATE THIS.

I thought I was doing well seeing babies around and stuff, but I have found my biggst trigger. Seeing families like ours. Two mums and a baby just does.me.in.

I FUCKING HATE THIS.

new guilt

I feel a new guilt.
I'm back at work.
And I don't think about Caden all day. I have huge photos of him plastered all over the walls of my desk area and I stare at him all day. But I don't really think about him.
I havent cried in days.
I read the heart wrenching blog entries of the other women living without their babies and I'm jealous.

I wish I felt their pain. I wish I could do nothing but cry all day.
Then I would feel like I was doing him justice. As it is, I feel like I'm failing him more every day that passes. That I'm not enough of a mother to love him so much that I cant live without him.
I wish so much that I didnt have to live without him. I wish he were HERE where he belongs...

and now I'm crying. It seems that all I needed to do was write about him


Baby boy I miss you. I wish you were here with your mamas where you belong. I wish I had more than a blanket and your name on my foot. I wish I had you...

tired

I want to sit down and write a thought-provoking, heartfelt entry about how I am these days. how much this life sucks. How I feel like I am barely existing rather than living. But I am tired.

I am tired of emotion.
I am tired of writing.
I am tired of coming up with new awful scenarios in my mind.
I am tired of waiting.

I am tired of pushing thoughts of Caden out of my mind because I know that when I let them in it's bad, awful, hurtful, horrific.

I know that pushing these thoughts out of my mind is unhealthy. That I'm not 'letting myself grieve'. I dont want to grieve. Grieving fucking sucks. I want to feel better. I want to be better. I want to enjoy life again. I want to feel hope again.

I want to be 'over this' even though I know, fifty years from now I will think of him and cry like it happened yesterday. I can't get over this. I'll never be 'over this'. I just want to sleep. I just want it all to go away and have some peace.

The most awful kind of torture

Waiting for SIX WEEKS for the results of your son's autopsy is the worst kind of drawn out torture. I have now come across another serious possibility of what was wrong with Caden. It fits far too well with the little that we know about Cadens problems. It fits better than Trisomy 18.
I had found peace thinking if it was T18 he had no chance. That he went peacefully.
But this new option means that an ultrasound and a blood transfusion would have saved him.
I feel like Im going to throw up.
And I still have nearly 2 weeks to wait to find out what it was.

This is killing me.
The fact it could have been prevented.
The not knowing what it was
The not having closure
The not KNOWING
Oh god, if it could have been prevented.
I dont know what I will do...