Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Girl Mom

To the world I am a girl Mom.  I have two beautiful daughters, ages one and five.  I don't have Hot Wheels or superhero figurines in my home.  Our toy shelves are overflowing with My Little Pony figurines, magic wands and stuffed animals.  I don't know the pain of stepping on a lego, because my daughter has no interest in owning them.  I am well practiced in washing, conditioning, brushing and styling hair.  I have drawers full of hair accessories. When shopping I can't help but stop in the girls section to browse all of the adorable frilly dresses.  I'm told by other parents that although my children may seem like a handful, they are nothing compared to boys.  I can't possible understand the energy and wildness that little boys posses.  My toilet seats are always down.  Almost always, I do have a husband.  I have never seen an episode of Star Wars: Clone Wars or Bob the Builder.  I don't have any boys.  Except I do.

I have always wanted a daughter.  As much as I'd love to pretend that I didn't have a gender preference, I did.  When I was pregnant with Gwenevere I secretly wished for a girl.  We held a gender reveal party to announce to everyone, including ourselves, whether we were having a boy or a girl.  As my husband and I cut into the cake I was chanting in my head "Please be pink, please be pink, please be pink".  When the cake was in fact pink I cried tears of joy and relief.  I was thrilled that I would indeed be having a girl.  I know girls.  I grew up with a sister.  All of my best friends have been females.  I love all things girly.  I don't know what to do with a boy. 

When we went in for our ultrasound with our twins my husband and I agreed ahead of time that we would want to find out the baby's genders.  This time I was a little more open to the idea of a son.  I just wasn't sure I could handle two boys.  So I went in hoping for at least one girl.  When the ultrasound technician announced that we were having one boy and one girl I was ecstatic.  I would be getting another daughter as well as son.  I would have two girls and a boy.  I could do this.

With Victoria I can honestly say that I had no gender preference.  I was so worried that I may never bring home another living baby that boy vs. girl didn't even enter my mind.  We found out at 14 weeks that Victoria was a girl.  I felt conflicted.  I was happy at the prospect of bringing home another daughter.  But knowing that this was our last baby, I felt sad that I would never bring home a son.  Then I felt guilty.  I should just be happy that our baby is healthy so far. 

Now that both of my girls are here I am getting used to being a girl Mom.  But I still yearn to be a boy Mom. I wonder what my family would look like?  How different would it be?  What is that Mother Son bond like that I hear so much about? 

I am not disappointed that Victoria is a girl.  I love having two girls, and she is a wonderful addition to our family.  I will just always wonder what life would be like as a boy Mom.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

3 Years of Thank Yous

Thank you.  I can't say it enough.  There are people who will read this that I want to thank and there are countless others that will never see this. 

To our OB that delivered James and Penelope, thank you.  Thank you for being there to deliver our son and daughter.  For listening to their tiny heart beats with your stethoscope and letting us know they were still alive.  For carefully and quickly getting them cleaned up so we could have as many minutes as possible with them before they died.  Thank you for asking us what their names were.  Thank you for telling us how beautiful our son and daughter were. To our Labor and Delivery nurse, thank you.  Thank you for giving us time to snuggle our precious babies.  Thank you for carefully dressing them in their tiny gowns and wrapping them in blankets. Thank you for taking pictures of them, both dressed and undressed, knowing that those pictures would be all that we would have to look back on to remember what they looked like.  Thank you to the volunteers that made those tiny gowns, hats, booties and blankets.  For knowing that parents giving birth to a one pound baby does not come prepared with micro preemie clothes.  Thank you to our families.  My parents and sister that stayed in the delivery room with us the whole time.  Thank you for staying to meet your grandchildren and niece and nephew.  To my husband's parents that drove as fast as they could from out of state to be with us and meet their grandson and granddaughter.  Thank you to our friends that took in Gwenevere for the day while we faced the hardest time in our lives.  Thank you to the nurse that cared for us in the Special Care Unit.  For letting us keep James and Penelope in our room all night.  For being patient while I held them both one last time before being wheeled off to be cremated.  Thank you for calling me at home the next day to let me know I had left my bra at the hospital and that you would hold onto it for me if I wanted to pick it up.  Thank you for understanding that my lost bra was the last thing on my mind and I couldn't go back to that hospital.  Thank you for every friend and family member that sent us a card or flowers or e-mails.  Thank you for letting us know that we were not alone in our grief.  Thank you for every prayer that was said and every candle that was lit for our family.  For every person that brought our family a meal, thank you.  Thank you for knowing that grocery shopping and meal planning were not going to be happening for a while at our house.  Thank you for keeping us fed.  Thank you for understanding that thank you cards did not get sent. Thank you to my husband's coworkers and boss.  Thank you for giving my husband all the time off that he needed.  For bringing heaping bags of groceries to our house and sending dinners.  Thank you to everyone that attended Penelope and James' funeral.  For sitting with us in grief and acknowledging our profound loss.  Thank you for the friends that visited us during the days and weeks following our loss.  Thank you for showing up and being there.  Your presence meant so much.  Thank you for asking if we wanted to talk about the tragedy that had unfolded.  Thank you for listening to our story when we did want to talk and thank you for understanding our silence when we didn't. Thank you for your kind words at a time when you really don't know what to say.

Thank you for the ongoing support.  Thank you for not being afraid to say our baby's names.  For attending our one year memorial.  For knowing that the grieving period never ends, it just changes.  Thank you for donating money to charity in honor of our twins.  Thank you for joining us at various walks and fundraisers.  Thank you for the get togethers and play dates that I often showed up to with red puffy eyes from crying.  Thank you for acknowledging that James and Penelope are still part of our family.  Thank you for realizing that Victoria is not a replacement child.  Thank you to my expansive medical team that got me through my pregnancy with Victoria.  To the nurses that gave me progesterone shots every week.  To the Nurse Practitioner that recognized my fear and called me at home after hours with my test results.  To the ultrasound techs that checked my cervical length every other week.  To the nurse in Labor and Delivery that sat with me in triage for almost two hours at 2am while we waited for an ultrasound machine because I was alone and having a panic attack.  To my parents who were always there to watch Gwenevere during my countless appointments.  Thank you to everyone that has liked and commented on my blog posts.  Thank you for letting me pour out my guts when I felt like my world was crashing in.  Thank you to my amazing support group.  To the strongest group of parents I know.  Thank you for sharing your stories of loss and listening to mine. 

Most of all thank you to my husband, my partner in grief.  Thank you for grieving with me.  For being strong when I couldn't be, but also showing your own grief so that I knew I wasn't alone.  Thank you for always taking my side when it felt like nobody understood the nightmare that I was living.  Thank you for your unfaltering support and love.  Without you, I don't know where I would be.  Thank you for helping me gather enough courage to try again.  For listening to every worry I had and both comforting me and acknowledging my fears.  Thank you for being the best husband and dad that I know. 

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Awareness Month

These days it seems like everything has an awareness month.  Every type of cancer, illness, disorder gets it time to shine.  Since 1985 Ocotober has been Breast Cancer Awareness month.  Breast Cancer deserves a month.  It deserves year round awareness.  One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer.  That's a pretty terrifying statistic.  You have a friend, neighbor, or coworker who has battled breast cancer.  While treatment options have gotten much better over the past 30 years it is still a horrible diagosis.  Many women fight and survive.  Many women fight and sadly lose their battle.  So what is the point of an awareness month?  

Fortunately most breast cancer can be detected early on through screening processes.  Monthly self breast exams and annual mammograms can help detect breast cancer early.  The earlier the cancer is found, the better the chances of treatment being successful.  The other purpose of an awareness month is to simply rally support.  It wasn't that long ago that the word "breast" caused people to blush.  Women had to keep their diagnosis to themselves and suffer in silence.  We have come so far.  Breast cancer awareness is everywhere.  Pink is everywhere.  Pink water bottles, pink ribbons, talk show hosts in pink, football players in pink, breast cancer walks, go pink day.  Women and men that have struggled with breast cancer are finally getting the support that they deserve.  Money is being donated to help fund continued research towards breast cancer.  There is still a long way to go.  Ideally all breast cancer will some day have a cure. 

Because there are only 12 months in a year, many causes have to share the spotlight.  October is also National Liver Cancer Awareness Month and National Down Syndrome Awareness Month.  And while I couldn't even find it on the official list, October is also National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  I think we can all understand why awareness is important for cancer.  Awareness can help raise money for finding a cure.  It can also encourage people to do early screening and know what early symptoms look like and when to go to the doctor.  So why awareness for miscarriage and infant death?

One in four pregnancies end in miscarriage.  One in 160 pregnancies end in stillbirth.  Six babies out of every 1000 born will die before their first birthday.  Parents of these babies are everywhere.  They are your friends, neighbors and coworkers.  Yet, you may not know it.  There is still a stigma associated with pregnancy loss.  It quietly happens all the time, but it is often hushed and swept under the rug.  So many families are left to grieve alone.  

When I had my first miscarriage I was heartbroken.  I was 10 weeks and we had only announced to our immediate family and a few friends.  I knew a couple other Moms that had been through a miscarriage.  But I never thought it would happen to me.  I didn't realize how common pregnancy loss is.  I didn't know what the grieving process was like, because I had never seen it.

I got pregnant again three months later with my twins.  There wasn't a day that went by that I wasn't afraid of losing them.  As time went and I got through the first trimester I started to relax a little.  After their anatomy scan at 18 weeks I started to finally believe that we would be bringing two healthy babies home with us.  I had no idea that I could even go into preterm labor at 22 weeks.  But I did, and they were born too tiny to survive.  

Following their death I couldn't contain my grief.  I was unable to grieve alone, so I reached out.  I started attending a support group for bereaved parents.  I started writing my blog.  I posted pictures of my son and daughter on facebook.  I poured out my grief where ever I could. I was shocked by how many women came forward to tell me about their loss.  I don't blame any of them for keeping quiet about their pregnancy losses.  We live in a society where miscarriage and infant death is taboo.  Nobody is comfortable hearing about it and very few people are talking about it.  I for one, am tired of the silence.  

So as you wear your pink this month in support of breast cancer.  Think about doing something for miscarriage and infant loss awareness as well.  Wear a pink and blue ribbon.  Post something on facebook, or twitter or instagram.  Light a candle for all the grieving parents.  While we are not fighting for a cure, we are fighting for awareness. And if you are one of those grieving parents know that you are not alone.  It may seem like you are, but we are here to listen to you, hug you, support you and help break the silence. 

Friday, September 18, 2015

Cherishing Milestones

"I wish they could stay little forever" and "I wish I could just freeze time" are phrases often said by parents.  When you are a parent, time flies.  Sometimes I look at my older daughter, soon to turn five years old and I seriously wonder "How did we get here"?  It really feels like just yesterday I was holding her as a tiny baby in my arms.  Then seemingly overnight she has grown into a walking, talking, silly, wild preschooler. Before I know it she will be taller than me and moving out.  It goes by in a heartbeat.

While I understand the sentiment behind wanting your babies to stay babies forever, I don't feel that way.  Yes, I love my children just as they are today.  I love my sweet innocent four year old who is still willing to snuggle on my lap from time to time and who still tells me how much she loves me every day.  I love my adorable 9 month old with her roly poly arms and legs, who I get to rock and snuggle and nurse every day.  I love them just as they are right now and I cherish every moment.  But I really don't wish they would stay like this forever.  I know what it's like to have a baby forever.

The day that James and Penelope were born was the only day that I had with them.  I spent hours holding them.  Staring at them and trying to burn their images into my brain.  Their tiny little bodies will never grow a day older. They will always be my babies.  There will be no first smiles.  No first time crawling or first steps.  No first words and saying "Mama" for the first time. I will never watch them ride the bus off to their first day of kindergarten.  I won't argue with them as teenagers about keeping their rooms clean or doing the dishes.  I won't hold back tears as I drop them off at college.  I won't be there on their wedding day or watch them become parents someday.  They are just my babies and that's all they can be.  Forever frozen in time.

So although it's bitter sweet to watch my living children grow up, I cherish it.  I know that each day that goes by is another day that I am lucky to be their mother.  They will get bigger, and louder, and messier.  Their will come a day that I hear the dreaded words "I hate you Mom".  They won't always want to hug me.  They will grow up.  I and for that I am incredibly thankful.

Monday, August 31, 2015

A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words

The days, weeks and months following the death of James and Penelope are a blur in my mind.  I remember little flashes of time.  Still images of our suddenly broken family.  I look back at pictures and gleam little pieces of what was going one.  I remember puffy eyes, headaches, dying flowers in vases, visitors, sympathy cards in the mailbox, laying on the couch watching Trailer Park Boys, a busy and cheerful toddler running around and a feeling of emptiness.  I remember a strong pull to run away from everything.  Some pictures that I look back at I am flooded with strong memories.  Everything comes rushing back.

 About a week after the twins were born I felt a pull to get away.  I woke up that morning and I just needed to go somewhere.  My breasts were engorged and lumpy from my milk coming in for the babies that I never got to nurse.  My belly was soft and empty.  My head hurt and my eyes were practically swollen shut from crying. Our stale closed up house was feeling like a prison.  I wanted to be somewhere where nobody knew me.  Where I could be a Mom, a wife, a regular person.  Not a bereaved mother.  I came downstairs and announced to Micah that we were going to the beach.  We grabbed a few beach towels and got in the car.  We stopped at CVS on the way to get a shovel and bucket for Gwenenvere to play with.

Once we got there I felt foolish for not planning ahead.  I looked around at all of the other families with their beach umbrellas, coolers and kids running around in bathing suits.  We brought a bucket, shovel and two towels.  Gwenevere was 21 months old and instantly drawn to the shore.  She had on an adorable little ice cream outfit on that was a gift from my Mom.  Initially we tried to keep her out of the water.  But eventually the toddler won and she played in the lake in her clothes.  I rolled up my pants and got in the water knee deep with her.  We ate ice cream, walked up and down the beach and drew pictures in the sand. We took several pictures of our day in our best attempt at being a normal family.  

 The pictures from our beach day are the first pictures we took after we left the hospital.  I look at them now and I see so much.  I see a mother that has just given birth to babies that died.  I see a father trying so hard to keep it together for his wife and child.  I see a carefree toddler that doesn't understand why her parents keep crying.  I see a family that is holding on for dear life.  I see hope that the future will be better.  Hope that the intense pain will lessen.  This picture of Gwenevere and me is special to me.  It is a picture of a big sister and a mother of three.  My tired eyes behind my sunglasses, my necklace with two gold rings given to me by the hospital.  My sweet daughter just wanting to play.  My physically tired and sore body from giving birth a week ago. Me, trying to take a momentary break from grieving to have a picture with my child.  Micah behind the camera, being an incredibly supportive husband and father. Through those blurry days, weeks and months following our loss this day stands out.  It was our family's first steps towards healing.  While it was an attempt for me to try to escape my grief, it served as a much needed break and the beginning of a long journey that still continues. 

Thursday, June 25, 2015

They Say, "You'll just know"

Amidst the usual parent chatter about children there are a few questions that always make my heart sink a little.  "How many kids do you have?", and "Are you going to have any more?".  Those are questions that I always find myself stuttering awkwardly to answer.  I still don't have a go to answer for how many kids I have.  It depends on the person and the situation.  If you're just meeting me in a casual social setting and I may never see you again you will probably get my easy answer of two children.  If I suspect that we will continue to run into each other in social settings and I'm prepared for the awkward conversation that will follow you will get my real answer of two living children.  If I'm particularily brave that day I might expand on my answer and say four children, two living and two that died at birth.  But sometimes just getting those words out is too difficult. 

As for the question of "Are you going to have any more?", that's a lot harder for me.  The real, 100% honest answer is no.  I am not going to have anymore children.  And just typing those words onto the computer screen brings tears to my eyes.  While I am so incredibly thankful to have my two amazing girls my heart breaks a little to know that we are done.  I am not done.  I don't think I will ever be done.  But emotionally and physically I am spent.  I have heard many Moms talk about how they knew they were done having kids.  I have often heard the words, "When you are done having kids, you just know".  It's like there is a sense of completion.  Like that first, second, third or tenth child is it.  You're family is complete.  I don't think I will ever have that sense of completion.  My family will always have a huge gaping hole with two children missing.  And I know in my heart that no number of living children will fill that hole.

Having Victoria has done so much healing for my heart. But, she has not filled the hole.  That's not why we chose to have another child.  The loss of Penelope and James left a hole that cannot be filled.  Not by another child, or another four children.  All we can do is heal and try to find peace, and I find myself doing that every day. 

We are approaching the third anniversary of James and Penelope's birth and death.  So much has changed in those three years.  Our family has gone from one child, to three children, to one child, to two children.  It's been an emotional roller coaster.  While I will always miss my twins, I love our family as it is today.  My marriage has been put through the wringer and we have come out stronger than ever.  We have seen each other at our weakest point, and helped build each other back up again.  Our oldest daughter has experienced death and loss as no child should have to.  She has a unique perspective on life and death and I love hearing her talk about her ideas of how her brother and sister live on in the universe.  She has become a big sister to Victoria and taken on that role with full force.  She is Victoria's favorite person and loves to make her smile and giggle.  And our sweet rainbow baby Victoria has brought with her so much joy and light to our lives.  She has been far from an easy baby.  With colic and reflux she has kept us on our toes.  Many sleepless nights and tears, from her and me.  But everyday, through all of the frustration, I have felt nothing but thankful for her.  When Penelope and James were born there was just silence.  Their little bodies struggled to breathe with their tiny lungs, but they were to tiny to cry.  So even though dealing with a fussy baby has it's moments, every time she cries I am reminded of how healthy and strong she is.  For that I am grateful.

So my family is complete.  Although it will never really feel that way.  We are a family of six and we will stay that way.  If I keep waiting for that moment when "I just know" that I'm done, I will wait forever.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Dear Mama of Twins

Dear Mama of Twins,
I see you around, here and there.  You have your two beautiful babies in tow.  You make it look so effortless, so wonderful.  You may have both babies in car seats or one in a sling.  You have only been a Mom to these two babies for a matter of months, but you have it figured out.  Or at least you appear to. 
I see you walk in and I feel my heart sink.  It's not your fault, or your babies fault.  It is the fault of my life circumstances.  You see, I am a Mama of twins as well.  But you will never see them.  I carried them for 22 weeks and 5 days and in a moment they were gone.  I had that same moment that you probably had when you found out you were carrying not one baby but two.  That holy crap, excited, scared and totally shocked moment.  My belly, like yours, grew at a rapid rate.  I started scrambling to figure out how our family was going to make room for two new lives.  But those two new lives were over in less than an hour.
Every time I see you I want to talk to you.  I want to tell you so much.  I want you to know that those babies of yours should never be taken for granted, not even for a second.  I want to tell you that you are so lucky.  But I know that while you love those babies with all of your heart, there are hard times too.  There are times when there is twice as much crying and dirty diapers and you just don't have enough hands.  I know that caring for two babies is hard, emotionally and physically and sometimes you feel like it's just too much.  I know your pregnancy wasn't easy.  Well, at least not compared to singleton pregnancy.  I'm sure carrying around the weight of two babies was more than uncomfortable.  I'm sure that the balancing act that is your life now is sometimes overwhelming. I just wish I could somehow convey to you how lucky you are without diminishing your challenges. 

If there was just one thing I could tell you it would be to always be grateful and love those babies with all of your heart.  Please don't think that I am calling you ungrateful.  I am sure that you are grateful for your babies every day.  And know that I don't mean you shouldn't complain.  Life is hard and raising children is one of life's biggest challenges. But in those moments when everyone is crying, the laundry is piling up, dinner needs to be cooked and you haven't had a moment to yourself all day just try to see all that you have.  After coming home from the hospital without my son and daughter there were many heartbreaking moments.  But one of the hardest things was the quiet moments.  Those moments were sometimes too much to handle.  

I now have a baby, as well as my four year old daughter.  My laundry is piling up, my older daughter goes through the house each day like a tornado and my baby has colic.  It's hard, emotionally and physically exhausting.  Some days I want to cry, some days I do.  But in the back of mind is always gratitude.  I have to stop at times and just remember how incredibly lucky I am to have my two living children.  I know what it's like to come home with empty arms and to have my arms full is truly a gift.  

So if there is anything that you take away from this I hope that it is love and appreciation for your babies.  Please give them one extra kiss every day.  Please tell them "I love you" just one more time.  Please give them an extra minute of snuggles at night.  Please be gentle on yourself and know that you are being the best Mom you can be and that twins are not easy.  Please don't feel guilty that you have your babies and I don't.  That is not your burden.  Just know that while your arms are incredibly full right now, so is your heart and that is something to truly be grateful for.