20 weeks

Imagine this...

when the doctor asked if Tim would mind giving me a

weekly shot of thick progesterone  in my hip,

I never thought about what might actually happen.

Seems simple enough, but with my life

I should have known it wouldn't be so simple.

So picture this,

my nurse friend is now my personal medical staff.

The reason being, after much discussion with lots of my "health professional" friends, we decided that despite all our marriage has endured,

having Tim try to give me those shots just might not be in our best interest.

That is, if we want to stay married:)

And I do...

So, now my friend is drawing up the meds and then jabbing the HUGE needle into my backside.

This isn't particularly funny...

unless you know me.

It gets better of course.

Last week it was done in my home after a Tastefully Simple party.

This week we met for dinner at Panera,

then for the sake of time

I crawled into the backseat of my car

and she shot me up with drugs.

Yes, in my car...in a parking lot.

I kept picturing all the worst case scenarios that could happen.

Such as a cop pulling up for dinner,

or a random car pulling into the empty parking spot next to my open car door where my friend stood trying to get the best angle...

or worse yet, some young college kid from one of the many Bible colleges just down the road catching a glimpse and mistaking me

for some drugged out meth-head tweeker.

Brilliant.

The last one is my favorite I think...

its so funny and far from the truth I can't help but laugh out loud.

constant reminders

In two weeks we will have lived here for two years...

that blows my mind.

Sometimes it seems like forever,

other days it still seems like I just left California.

Will's death is the same way.

Sometimes it seems far away,

other days it is still so fresh.

And then there are the constant reminders...

Yes, we still cry even though things are going well with this baby.

Yes, we still have people that don't acknowledge Will's life...

or that literally say we should be moved on and over it by now...

and now we have been faced with a whole new range of questions that aren't meant to be painful...but they simply are.

Questions like these wage a war within my soul between my heart that wants me to claim Will and my brain that tells me its not worth mentioning that I have a son who is in heaven...

"Is this your first baby?"

"Do you have any other children?"

"How do you know you'll need a c-section?"

Even the simple task of filing our taxes this year, brought a day of tears and anxiety.

It happened when I opened the package from our accountant and saw that he had claimed Will as a dependent...even though last year in a letter we had explained what had happened.

I guess he forgot.

Or he didn't think it was important enough to make himself a note for next year...

Either way, Tim was left with the task of calling him to tell him that our son did die.

Again.

Its not that we mind, I mean talking about Will doesn't bother us in the least...its the thought of making other people feel bad that makes us feel awful.

Because so many people don't know how to react.

And we like to make people laugh, not get that sad look of pity in their eyes...

Which leads me to this story and another conversation in which the other person didn't know how to handle it,

and asked coldly,

"Well, what date did he die?"

"And you told him...of this situation last year already?"

As if this was all our fault...

And my husband cried,

while sitting in his fancy office,

at work...

because this whole thing still isn't easy.

And there are many people that still make it even harder than it should be.

And that just plain sucks.

In the wake of our son dying,

we were swarmed.

I was in a fog.

Yet, we were so alone.

I will never forget coming home to an empty house...

a dirty house that hadn't been lived in for nearly 2 months...

a lawn that needed to be mowed...

a pantry and fridge that were empty...

a closet filled with clothes I could not fit into yet...

and the one thing I remember is a friend,

driving from out of state to bring us bags of groceries.

Such a selfless and kind act that still brings tears to my eyes today.

She never called to ask what we needed,

she just took the initiative and did something.

And to this day I am still so grateful for that simple act of kindness.

Because at the time, the only thing I could think about

was how to simply keep breathing.

Imagine being in so much pain emotionally, that you literally hold your breath without even realizing it...I did it constantly.

Because we hadn't lived here long,

we really didn't have a large support network.

And that was hard.

Three days after being released from the hospital,

Tim pushed me around in a wheelchair at Costco while we purchased

things for Will's memorial at our home.

But I still wonder to this day, why we did that...

why we were alone...

Another friend, came over numerous times that week to help me once Tim went back to work.

In one sitting, we put together Will's entire photo scrapbook.

For hours, we sat there and talked while cutting, gluing and piecing the few mementos I had of his short life into a book.

Another friend's kindness that I am so grateful for.

I've had many people ask me what to do in the wake of losing a child.

They know friends or others going through it,

and they want my advice.

I am happy to help, but since each situation is different,

it is also difficult to say sometimes.

Another blog that I follow addressed this same issue,

and I wanted to share it.

She explains everything so well, I really couldn't put it into better words.

I write about this, because I hope that in some way

by breaking open my pain and spilling it out,

it can somehow help someone else.

That by writing about tough topics, knowledge will form...

people will be educated,

and other parents going through this hell will be better taken care of.

Truthfully, the only reason we survived

was because of the support we received.

I should really say the support that we continually keep receiving...

We are thankful to those sane friends who kept us from going insane.

For those family & friends that have been there for us, long after the death and funeral.

Because they know it doesn't stop there.

Like the friends that came to my house the other night for a Tastefully Simple party...

and ending up staying until everyone else left...

to give me my first shot of progesterone in my butt because I was terrified to have Tim do it.

Those are true friends.

And one took pictures, while the other jammed the needle into my backside...

apologizing the entire time (like it was her fault or something).

I may be brave enough to write about certain things...

but let's face it.

I'm not yet to the point of being comfortable in putting a picture (which has my butt crack showing) on the Internet for the world to see...

but its having friends like that,

and so many others that follow this blog

that offer support and leave comments and offer words of encouragement that help us.

And somewhere, somehow along the way....we have figured how to live again.

3D ultrasound

Arm by the face.

This shot had us all laughing...what looks like a Michigan mullet hairdo is actually part of the placenta. No crazy George Washington wig for my baby.

Look at all that beautiful amniotic fluid! :)

Today was a day we have been anticipating for a really long time...

and it felt sometimes that it might never come.

But today did arrive and everything with the doctor went smoothly.

And while we are still far away from that special day in July,

we got to see our baby,

and see that everything is good so far.

Thank you to everyone for their well wishes and prayers.

We also got confirmation that we are going to have another boy:)

The high risk doctors are taking every precaution,

because we are still in a risky time.

Being in that office today brought back a lot of memories,

a lot of them not so happy.

But seeing this baby, surrounded by fluid and looking healthy

was a blessing.

Beginning this week I will be getting a shot of hormones,

weekly in my "lower hip"...

courtesy of Tim.

He eagerly jumped at the duty...a little too quickly.

This will hopefully ward off any pre-term labor or other problems.

The funny thing is,

the doctor said most people fight off having to take such a shot.

After what we've been through...

I would gladly get poked once a week,

that actually sounds like the easy part to me...

Now if we could only decide on a name,

that is proving the most difficult.

But I am going to bed so grateful tonight...

Good days

This week has been a milestone...

not sure if its because the sun has been out 4 days in a row,

or because the temperature actually reached 40...

it may be the fact that I am 18 weeks along today,

or that it is finally March...

but something feels different~

in a good way.

A few months after Will died,

another mom who lost her newborn told me that eventually the pain does dull a bit.

But she was also 5 years into the process,

and I wasn't even 5 months.

I would have to admit that while I do feel differently,

it isn't because I love Will any less or because this whole situation

has gotten "better"...

it really doesn't work that way.

Its because we have a new sense of normal.

We have a routine...

and now we also have a renewed sense of hope with this baby.

A huge and hopefully happy event to look forward to.

During Will's pregnancy, the night of my 18th week marked my

2nd trip to the ER...

my 1st overnight stay in the hospital...

and the 1st time a doctor told me the baby would die.

This time,

I am laying in my own bed.

Healthy and content,

saying prayers of thanks for yet another good day.

And that is all I ever really pray for anymore...

just a really long string...

of really good days.

Sevens

If I can recall, most people love the number 7.

My step-sister's birthday is 7.7

My friend got married on 7.7

I was always fond of the number 11,

kind of like when a digital clock reads 11:11

yes, I still knock on wood and make a wish.

Cheesy, but true.

Not that I think any number is necessarily lucky or not...

Now though, 7's sometimes get to me.

Will was born on 7.17

and today I am 17 weeks pregnant...

the exact same time in Will's pregnancy when I went to the bathroom at my parents house and knew things would never be the same.

Sevens...

Definitely the brand of my favorite jeans,

but that was always about it.

Now, I swear, every morning when I look at the clock can you guess what time it is?

7:17

Strange.

But not as strange as my inability to post the numerous blogs I have written in February.

Any guesses on how many half-finished thoughts/posts there are?

Oh yes....you guessed it.

7.

Where just all this rambling leave me?

Not quite sure.

Do I post the remaining 6 half-finished blog posts?

Not sure about that either.

The only thing I am sure about,

is that writing still helps with all of this.

"All of this" meaning all the emotions I am experiencing on the roller coaster.

And I need to write more...

and consistently.

So expect to see some changes here,

maybe a little design makeover...

because this whole blogging thing is about to get more serious.

I had a revelation the other night.

Just why do I pour my innermost thoughts and feelings

out into the Internet world for anyone to read?

I certainly didn't start blogging for this reason.

But this is where the path led,

and so I am following it. 

I never sought it out,

it just happened...

And that leaves me with a choice:

Either go through all this and keep it bottled up...

a hidden secret like most people.

Or...

put it all out there.

Take a chance and go to where I am being led.

In a hope of healing myself,

but most importantly...

maybe giving someone else hope.

What can I say?

All these 7's are urging me to take a little chance.

A gamble, that maybe things could change.

And that is a chance I have to take.

Lent

If there has been any sort of trend in my life since Will's death...

it has been the fluctuation of time.

It either goes by in a blur and suddenly much time has passed,

or it drags by.

Lately, it has been like I go to bed and when I wake up...the week is over.

This is a very good thing right now.

I have reached a point where I am trying very hard

to not let being pregnant and the timing of the week I am in,

control my thoughts and actions.

But it isn't that easy.

16 weeks.

At this time with Will, we were moving from CA to MI. And I felt great.

At 17 weeks, things began to go horribly wrong...

and at 18 weeks my water broke and I found myself in the hospital being told my baby would die...which didn't happen until much later and we all know that story.

So...

Its been difficult not to worry.

Which brings me to my thought of the day.

What to give up for lent?

This crossed my mind at the grocery store today,

as I shopped for healthy (low carb-low fat-low processed-low fun) food.

Then I thought, "screw it..." and threw a bag of Easter blow pop suckers into my cart.

I could see how this was going to go.

Everyone seems to give up something food related:

pop, candy, junk food...

but I kind of gave most of that stuff up a really long time ago.

Then I considered giving up lots of different things,

that really weren't realistic: eating out, occasional swearing, the McDonald's drive-thru...

After thinking about each of these, my immediate response was, "Yeah, right."

So, then I came to my idea of letting go or giving up worrying.

It can be done,

and it will be a challenge.

But an even bigger challenge?

How does one even know if they are not worrying...

Sigh.

All I can say is that Easter better hurry up and get here.

Yay for February...

When I woke up yesterday morning and realized it was no longer January...

I was thrilled.

But today,

its snowing...gross.

This is the time of year, when I am not thrilled to see snow ~ but disgusted.

When we lived in SoCal, January didn't hold the same contempt

as it does now...because honestly, it felt the same as any other of the 11 months out there.

Sunny and perfect.

Groundhog's day...

the term Tim & I referred to explain how every single day felt and looked the same,

to someone who is from the frozen tundra like us.

But now?

I can't stand January.

So I am super glad its February...a short month too.

I am looking at the passing of months as a big deal right now.

In March we have our 3-D ultrasound with Dr. Risky.

And in April the baby is viable.

Which is something I was blissfully unaware of until Will.

In May...it will be warmer...

followed by June.

And my goal is July.

The official due date is Aug. 5th,

however, since I have to have a c-section...

the latest I will be pregnant is until 38 weeks.

I've already done the math,

Will's anniversary days fall real close.

So that is a possibility.

We'll worry about that later.

Until then, I am focusing on February.

Next week, Tim is flying to Jersey for work.

He is nervous to leave me, yet I am quick to remind him that 4 days hardly compares to 2 deployment tours that lasted between 6 and 7 months.

Perspective...hello.

And even when I was in the hospital with Will,

he was forced to go for nearly 2 weeks.

I could have gone into labor any time,

yet they made him go for work.

Looking back, I don't know how we made it through without completely flipping out.

So I guess I can handle a little snow right now...

it makes laying low even easier.

Who wants to go out in the nasty cold and slush?

Not me.

So until winter truly begins to thaw,

I will eat and take naps...and say a prayer of thanks for each uneventful day.