The Story of "Poppy"; A Quiet Grief

When James and Penelope died, I wanted to shout it to the world.  All of our friends and family knew that we were pregnant with twins and when they were gone it seemed appropriate that everyone knew.  The day that we got home from the hospital I put a post on facebook and I hoped that the word would spread.  I had no interest in making phone calls to everyone we knew to announce their death.  I also desperately wanted to avoid an awkward conversation with someone that hadn't yet heard that our children had died.  My family was very helpful in telling friends and family the news.  My pregnancy had been out there, and so was my loss.
My first pregnancy loss was very different.  I was pregnant and then not pregnant, and most people never even knew.  I have heard of women sensing that they are pregnant long before a pregnancy test could confirm, I always took this to be hogwash.  How could someone sense a pregnancy the size of a poppy seed?  Well, on my 31st birthday I experienced this for myself.  Without going into details about the conception, I will just say that I lay in bed the night that it happened knowing I was pregnant.  It seemed crazy to me, but the next morning I went to the pharmacy and got my prenatal vitamin prescription refilled and bought a pregnancy test to be taken in a few weeks.  I stopped drinking alcohol and continued my life as a pregnant woman.  I had already calculated the baby's due date in my head and I would joke with Micah about our little June bug on the way.

The first day that I could I took the pregnancy test and sure enough it was positive.  Micah was at work so I sent him a picture of the plus sign and told him we would talk when he got home.  At this time our daughter Gwenevere was 10 months old.  We had never planned having children that close together, but we were excited at the prospect of another baby.  When Micah got home that evening we looked in my "What to Expect..." book to read about the progress of our baby.  By our calculations I was 4 weeks along and our baby had a heart the size of a poppy seed.  From that moment on we lovingly referred to our baby as Poppy.

As the weeks went on I was surprised that I wasn't experiencing the same symptoms I had with my first pregnancy.  I didn't have pregnancy sickness or fatigue, I actually felt pretty good.  The lack of symptoms started to worry me, then the worry turned into panic.  At seven weeks we had our first Midwife appointment.  I told her about my worry and she said we could do a quick ultrasound to make sure everything looked on track.  We got to see Poppy right there on the screen, wiggling around like a little tadpole.  The ultrasound tech did some measurements and found the heartbeat which we got to hear.  They told us our baby was measuring at 5 weeks and that our calculations must have been a bit off.  I tried to explain that we were not wrong, I knew the day it happened.  The Midwife said it is common to be off by a week of two.  We left our appointment with Micah feeling assured that we were on track to have a healthy baby.  I still felt unsure.  The baby was measuring small, and from what I did research on, the heartbeat was slow for what it should have been.  I went right back to feeling like I was carrying a failing pregnancy.

As I got closer the the end of the 1st trimester I began to gain some confidence that maybe Poppy would be okay.  I started to plan ahead and actually get excited about welcoming a new baby into our family.  When I was 10 weeks along we had Gwenevere's 1st birthday party.  It was a great day with our families and friends celebrating with us.  We had the party at my parents house and when it was time to go Micah packed up the car with gifts and I went to the bathroom one last time before heading home.  I noticed some spotting and my heart sank.  I didn't say anything, I just got in the car and drove home wondering to myself if this was the end.

We got home and I continued to spot throughout the evening.  I called our Midwife and she assured me that as long as it was light spotting it was normal in the 1st trimester, if it got worse I could go to the E.R.  By the next day it seemed worse so we decided to go to the hospital to get checked out.  We dropped Gwenevere off with friends and drove to the emergency room.  At this point I was pretty sure that Poppy was gone, I just needed confirmation.  I was assured by both a nurse and a doctor that bleeding is very common in the 1st trimester and it wasn't necessarily a sign of miscarriage.  After quite a long wait, we were wheeled down to the ultrasound room.  Before the tech started she informed us that she wouldn't be able to tell us anything, we would have to wait to speak to the doctor.  After several minutes of her looking around she turned on the sound to listen for a heartbeat.  I will never forget the loudest silence I had ever heard.  She finished up and started to wheel us back.  She put her hand on my shoulder and said "I'm so sorry, I wasn't able to find a heartbeat.  I just didn't want you to have to wait for the bad news".  I nodded my head and began to cry.

The next day was Monday and we went to our Midwife's practice.  We met with an O.B. to discuss our options.  We could either wait and let my body continue to miscarry, or we could schedule a D & C and they could run some tests to see if anything detectable went wrong.  I couldn't imagine dragging out this physical and emotionally painful process any longer so we scheduled surgery for the next day.  I had already called into work that day and I called back to take the next day off as well.  We called our family members that we had originally shared our pregnancy news with to tell them the bad news.

I went back to work the day following my surgery, it was December 1st, Gwenevere's 1st birthday.  I told my co-workers that I had had a "women's issue" and that I had to have a small procedure so I wasn't able to lift any of the children for the next few days.  I wanted to come in crying, to let everyone know how badly I was hurting.  But I didn't, I kept it to myself.  I'm sure some people speculated, but I never talked about it.

Looking back I know I did what I felt was best at the time.  I just wish I could have been braver.  I wish I could have talked about it openly.  Although Poppy had only existed for a short time, it was a real loss to me.  I had made plans for that baby, I wanted that baby.  I still wonder from time to time what Poppy would have been like.  He or she would be just over a year old now.  If Poppy would have survived we never would have had Penelope and James.  Life would be different.  I still grieve that loss, and I think there will always be a place in my heart for Poppy.

The Summer of Gwenevere

Summer is my favorite time of year.  I love the sunshine, the heat, the sound of children laughing and playing, summer rain.  I love fireflies at dusk, iced tea, flowers, crickets chirping at night, the smell of sunscreen on my skin.  I love everything about this time of year.

I remember last summer very clearly.  I was just coming out of severe pregnancy sickness and beginning to have that 2nd trimester energy burst.  I had big plans last summer for Gwenevere and I.  After all, it was my first summer being a stay at home Mom and my last summer with only one child.  I often referred to it as "The Summer of Gwenevere".  I felt a little sad that it would be the last time that Gwenevere would have me all to herself.  I knew that by the time the next summer rolled around I would be crazy busy caring for my twins and I would have less time for her.  I was also excited to see her in the role of big sister.

Despite the massive heat wave that seemed to last for months, we spent most of our time outdoors.  We went through bottles of sunscreen and spent most of our time barefoot in the grass, playing in the sprinkler, or decorating our driveway with sidewalk chalk.  We would visit our neighborhood playground and make occasional trips to the local splash pad and zoo.  Then exhausted from play we would both take long afternoon naps in the cool air conditioned house.  As soon as nap time was over we would head back outside until Micah got home from work.  It was a perfect summer, everything I hoped it would be.

Our perfect summer came to a screeching halt one Sunday afternoon.  I went into labor at 22 weeks and 5 days.  Our son and daughter were born that evening and died shortly after.  The next day we came home with empty arms and heavy hearts.  Although it was only mid-August, summer was over.  No more park or sprinkler, no more playing in the yard for hours.  Our family temporarily became reclusive.  We didn't leave the house unless we had to.  Our television was permanently turned on.  We locked summer out to begin our long grieving process.  I know during this time I was not a great mother to my living child.  I was just there.  Summer blurred into Fall, then Winter and Spring. 

Now Summer is here again and I find myself once again in a "Summer of Gwenevere".  She is my only living child and I am so full of love for her.  We have already gone through one bottle of sunscreen and our driveway looks more decorated everyday.  We are frequent visitors of the park and zoo.  I look forward to everyday that I get to spend with her and I love planning our activities.  While I would give anything to have James and Penelope here with us, I know I can't.  So I am choosing to be thankful for another wonderful season with my amazing toddler.  I am so lucky to be her Mom and I am grateful everyday for the time that I get to spend with her.

Thank you

To anyone that is still reading my blog I just want to say thank you.  It means so much to me that you have continued to be part of my healing process.  Yesterday marked nine months since I said goodbye to my son and daughter.  I really don't think I could have gotten through the past nine months without the love and support I have received. 
Before suffering my losses I never really had an appreciation for the pain of losing a pregnancy.  I wish that nobody had to go through what I have experienced, but unfortunately I know that many families have and will go through a similar loss.  For those of you that have never lost a pregnancy or child I hope you never do.  For those of you that have I grieve with you. 
I had the misfortune of an ignorant question today.  I was getting my blood pressure taken at the Doctor's office this afternoon and a woman asked me if I had any children.  This is always a difficult question for me to answer but today I chose to tell her that I had a daughter that was two and half years old.  I didn't have the strength to give a complete answer.  She quickly responded by asking if I was planning on having any more and I told her that I had twins last year that died at birth so I wasn't sure when I would be ready to try again.  She didn't skip a beat and she proceeded to tell me about her friend that had a miscarriage and then had triplets.  She made it very clear that she would never want triplets, it would just be too much to handle.  I smiled and replied that yes, three babies would keep you quite busy.  I wanted to cry, I wanted to yell at her and tell her how insensitive she was being.  Instead I kept quiet.
I don't know what I should expect from people.  I know that everyone asks "What do you do for a living?" and "Do you have any children?", it's just normal conversation.  I will have to always carefully select what my response is.  Am I in the mood to ruin someone's day or not?  My husband always jokes that our story is a real room killer.  He has meetings at work and sometimes they ask everyone to share something unique about themselves.  Micah sure could bring the meeting to an awkward silence by saying "I have two dead children" at his turn.  Probably not socially acceptable.
I guess my point is that I hope by sharing my ongoing story I have shared a sense of sensitivity.  Everyone has a story and some are too painful to share.  I will continue to be honest and share as much as I can.  I hope that I can do my part to help break the silence of miscarriage and infant loss.  It is something that one out of four women experience and it deserves to be talked about.

Mother's Day

With Mother's Day looming closer and closer I am reminded of past Mother's Days.  Last year Gwenevere was 17 months old and still toddling around.  I was about 10 weeks pregnant and feeling as nauseated as the day is long.  We had found out about two weeks before that not only was I pregnant, but I was carrying twins.  I was just starting to really process the information and I was getting truly excited.  But more than anything I felt pregnancy sickness.
Micah and I went to the Kellogg Center for brunch with my parents and Gwenevere in tow.  I remember looking at all the food and wondering if I could keep any of it down.  I was well into the Zofran phase of my pregnancy, but it still wasn't enough to stop the nausea.  I nibbled on a couple pieces of fruit and crackers while everyone else enjoyed a delicious meal.  Gwenevere ate pretty well and finished off her meal by scarfing down two cupcakes.  I remember wanting to enjoy the day, but just feeling so sick.
Technically speaking, this will be my 4th Mother's Day, if you are allowing me to count the Mother's Day that I spent pregnant with Gwenevere.  I remember feeling awful that day as well.  The Mother's Day after that Gwenevere was five months old.  She was an amazing baby and I was so happy to have been blessed to be her Mom.  We went out to brunch that day at Troppo's and I brought along a pumped breast milk bottle for her lunch.  I remember we all took turns holding her throughout our meal, passing her around like the bread basket as we took turns eating.  This year will be my first Mother's Day that I am neither pregnant or breastfeeding.  I am baby free.
With this day to celebrate Motherhood approaching I have struggled.  It should be a happy day, but for many of us it comes with sadness.  Not only do I think about my losses, I think of all the other women that have lost a child, or that have struggled with infertility.  I think of all the people who have lost their own mother. What a difficult day this can be. 
Instead of dwelling on the fact that two of my children are gone this year I am going to celebrate.  I am going to celebrate being a Mom, and a pretty good one at that.  I am going to celebrate my Mom, who happens to be one of the best Mom's I know.  I am going to celebrate how lucky I am to have been raised by such a loving, caring, understanding, smart, kind, and all around awesome Mom. I am going to spend some time thinking about how I hope to be half the Mom she is.  She raised two daughters, and while neither of us it perfect, we turned out pretty well.  I am so thankful that she is able to be not only my Mom, but a Nana to my daughter.  So this year we will go out to brunch and have fun.  No nausea, no breast milk, just two great Moms.

Balancing Act

Last night I climbed into bed with Gwenevere and Micah to read books.  It's our nighttime routine and we always read at least six books.  I gathered up several books and set them down on the bed next to my daughter.  The book on top was titled "We Were Going To Have a Baby, But We Had An Angel Instead".  Gwenevere saw the book and she started to whine.  "Mommy no!  I don't like that book, it's too sad".  I swallowed the lump in my throat and I set the book on the floor and picked up "Green Eggs and Ham" instead.

Overall I would consider myself to be a very confident parent.  I have a degree in Child Development and I have worked with infants and toddlers for over a decade.  I am trained in infant and child CPR and I when it comes to cranky kids I know all the tricks.  Since the day we brought Gwenevere home from the hospital I have been confident that Micah and I are doing a good job.  This is not to say that I don't have my doubts and concerns like every other parent, I do.  I also know that we are good parents and we are doing the best we can.  When Penelope and James died I found myself for the first time really doubting my parenting skills.

I don't know what is appropriate to share with toddlers when it comes to death.  I know that I wouldn't want to lie about it, but I also don't want to instill a sense of fear.  Everyone dies, that's the truth.  Somehow that seems like a pretty intense concept to teach a two year old.  I want my daughter to know that she has a brother and sister.  I want her to know how much they are loved and missed.  I don't want her to think that it's bad to talk about them because it makes her Mommy cry.  I just don't know what to do.

 Micah and I decided that even though James and Penelope are dead they are still part of our family.  We have pictures of them in our house, we even have them in our house (in urns).  Gwenevere has named two of her stuffed animals after them.  We talk about them and sometimes cry.  I feel like I don't really know how to grieve in front of my own child, but I'm doing the best I can.  I want her to understand that it's okay to cry when we are sad.  I know she will never feel the sadness that I feel for them.  She won't miss them the same way that I do.  She may never even understand.

I feel like it's a constant balancing act.  I want to keep the memory alive of my son and daughter, but I also want to be a good Mom that is present for my living child.  Most days I get through without crying now.  But some days I cry.  When I do cry I can see a look of concern in Gwenevere's eyes.  That makes me sad.  I am the parent, she shouldn't have to worry about me.  I don't know if what we're doing is really what's best, but it's all we know.  Gwenevere has a brother and sister that died and I am not going to pretend like they were never here.  Like every other parent, I am trying my best.

The Stork

Even as a young child I thought the idea of the Stork was a ridiculous concept.  Who ever came up with the idea that a bird would drop off a baby on your doorstep?  Now, as an adult I can see the appeal.  You just live your life and one day you open your door and BAM, you have a baby.  I wish it was that easy.

Lately I have had baby fever.  But not baby fever in the sense that I want to get pregnant.  The thought of pregnancy is still terrifying to me.  I want to open my door tomorrow morning and find a beautiful cherub baby wrapped in a blanket.  It seems like everywhere I go I see pregnant bellies and women with their new babies in tow.  Just today I counted five pregnant women, five babies and one baby shower invitation in my mailbox.  I can't look at a pregnant woman and feel joy anymore.  I feel envy and fear.  I am not envious of her baby, I am envious of her joy.  I am sad that I will never again be a blissfully ignorant pregnant woman.  I am fearful that something will go wrong with her pregnancy.  I worry that her baby will die and I worry that she will be swallowed by grief.

Recently my daughter has been showing interest in where babies come from.  She knew that I had babies in my tummy and she knows several other women that are currently pregnant.  Not to mention she got to see a live birth of several baby lambs.  She talks about babies being a Mommy's uterus and coming out "all messy".  I talk to her about where she came from and try to explain how her brother and sister came out too little to live.  The other day at my parents house she caught a few minutes of the show "Midwives".  A women was delivering twins and having quite a difficult time.  That night on our way home she talked about the birth, in toddler words, "Mommies have to work hard to push the baby out, it's hard work, they cry a lot".  I wanted to explain that's it was okay, that even though it's hard work it's all worth it.  But I couldn't.  Sometimes you have to go through the hard work and your baby doesn't make it.  I just told her yes, it is hard work to have a baby.  Once again, I wished for the idea of the Stork.

I don't know if Gwenevere will ever decide to have children of her own.  I hope if she does she gets to know the joy of a healthy, uneventful, blissfully ignorant pregnancy.  I think every Mom deserves that.  I also hope that she knows not to take a pregnancy for granted, to appreciate it for what it is, a miracle.  I know she can't have it both ways.  For now, I will continue to dream of the Stork.  I know it's just as likely as Santa Claus landing on my roof this Christmas, but I can dream.

There's An Elephant In The Room

Over the past several months I've noticed that some of my pregnant and new Mom friends have been awkward around me.  It's like they feel guilty for their joy, or maybe they are just afraid to make me cry.  I can't believe that I am a person that someone would feel uncomfortable around.  Yes, I am the mother of two dead babies.  It's awful, sad, depressing, I get it.  It's not a fun subject to talk about, but it is my life.  I love to talk about my son and daughter just as much as you like to talk about your pregnancy or how your newborn is the cutest little thing in the whole world. Some days the ultrasound pictures and pregnancy announcements and pregnant women complaining about being uncomfortable on facebook is almost too much for me to bear.  But that is life.  After a death the world doesn't stop turning for you to grieve.  Some days I wish that it did but that's not the way it works.
It's a funny thing being around other Moms.  I do feel jealous sometimes.  Sometimes I want to cry, but that's okay.  Let me cry if I need to.  Don't hold back your joy in fear of upsetting me, let me be upset, I need to feel those feelings.  I can't spend the rest of my life avoiding every pregnant woman and new baby.  I would have very few friends left.  But also understand if I don't feel up to attending your baby shower or holding your baby.  Send me the invitation and let me choose what I am comfortable with and respect my decision. 
I'm tired of having an elephant in the room wherever I go.  I do appreciate others being sensitive of my feelings, but at a certain point it just feels like avoidance.  If you don't know what to say to me or how to treat me that's okay.  Just ask me how I'm doing.  I want to be someone that isn't afraid to talk about the death of my children.  I want to be able to cry when I need to and laugh when I want to. I want to be able to feel joy for others. I want people to know that I am still me, even though I've changed. I want to eventually have another pregnancy.  When that times comes I know I will need all the support in the world.