toppings are extra

When people ask me how many children I have, I pause. Part of me really wants to say how many I have been pregnant with (five), but then I think about it some more and I always say one. When people ask me if my son is my only child, again, I have to pause. Because he isn't. He is now one of five, the oldest of five, the one who got to live. Whether by luck or happenstance or the cosmic meanie missed one, I don't know. But he is all I've got. Up until this past week, he was one of four. But then, last week, I found out I was pregnant again, but this one didn't even make it through the weekend. So, is it a loss? Does it count as another deadbaby on the ever growing list? I guess it does (to me). How many cells does it take to make it a "real baby." What is the difference between a late period and an early miscarriage. Is there really a difference? Physically, I can say for me the answer is yes. I never had a "natural" miscarriage (not that there is anything natural about losing a child.) My early losses ended in D&C's because my body stubbornly refused to accept that it wasn't pregnant anymore and stubbornly hung onto whatever it had. This time, my body did it on its own. And it was different. It was slightly numbed by the amount of beer that I decided to drink (since I wasn't pregnant any more) and the fact that I was so glad that I wouldn't have to go back to the doctor begging for something to make my body give up its pregnancy, but the inescapable fact was that both my husband and I were markedly saddened by yet another loss. Just a few days before, we were stunned to find out that we had managed to create a baby at all, given all the crappy fertility news that we'd been given lately. We barely had a chance to revel in being pregnant before we weren't anymore. No one knew. The food from our traditionally yummy pizza, yay we're pregnant again dinner had barely digested before I wasn't pregnant anymore. It's amazing how quickly things change. Yet, in the end, because all I want is to have a healthy baby, and because it remains out of my reach, everything stays the same.

If I'd have known how it would have turned out, I would have had the prosciutto pizza. And I didn't even cry.

I see trees of green

"What a wonderful world" was my wedding song. It reminds me of New Orleans and happier times but, at the same time, it is a sad and wistful song. I hear it now, and it makes me think of Shannon, and how she never got to see this world, or experience any of its wonders. And I wonder why. Spring is such a beautiful time of the year, I should be happy, I should have so much to look forward to, but I don't feel as if I do. My little boy is growing up, and my baby is dead, and it feels pretty lonely here sometimes in mommyland. Here I am, more than 10 weeks out from my loss, and I am still fighting with the stupid insurance company over paying for Shannon's delivery. And when I have to call them, it still makes me cry, and I feel so weak for crying because the stupid insurance company made a mistake, which they will have to fix in appeal, or I will sue them over it. It is such a stupid little thing, but it is so huge to me because it is just another indignity that has to be endured after the biggest indignity of all - the loss of my little girl. Someone told me that you are ready to try again for another child when you have the emotional ability to deal with it. I don't think I know what that means anymore. I think the better answer is that you are ready to try again when the fear of loss is outweighed by the desire to have a baby. Because I don't think I will ever *not* be so very very sad about losing Shannon. Not a day goes by when I don't miss and love my little baby. And now, when she should be 28 weeks, just a stone's throw away from meeting her mommy and daddy, instead she is in the ether... and mommy and daddy are really sad. What happens when your baby has been gone for as long as she was here? And what about the day she was due - July 12th? And what about after that? And I think to myself, what a wonderful world?

4 weeks ago

Four weeks ago, my life changed in a way that I never expected or wanted. My precious daughter died. She was someone that I never really got a chance to know, and who only knew me as the heartbeat that rocked her to sleep. Her death was unanticipated and so very very cruel. How does the karmic wheel decide to stop on such a horrible result? If all of the universe is balanced, what needed to be rectified that had to result in the death of my little girl? Lifes biggest unanswered questions leave me feeling incredibly empty inside, as little pieces of my heart are being kept by Shannon, and by her two angel siblings. I will never get those pieces back, but I move forward anyway, for my living son and my husband and for myself and for Shannon and her siblings, because it is the right thing to do. Shannon knows that I loved her and wanted her and how much I miss her, today just as much as 4 weeks ago and forever. In the end, it is love that endures and love that makes it all worthwhile.

A very wise friend of mine said 'in all things, give thanks'. But what do you give thanks for after your child dies?

Erma Bombeck wrote: I had now joined a group of women who had to give their child back. They look like other women and they function like other women. But there is an emptiness in side of them that never goes away. At any given time of year when no one knows what they are talking about, they will look wistful and remark that they baby would be three years old today, or five, or ten. They play with the probabilities...the would have beens...could have beens... should have beens...and forever question, "Why?"

To the child in my heart

Precious, tiny, sweet little one
you will always be to me.
So perfect, pure and innocent,
just as you were meant to be.
We dreamed of you and your life
and all that it would be
We waited and longed for you
to come and join our family.
We never had the chance to play,
to laugh, to rock, to wiggle.
We long to hold you, touch you now
and listen to your giggle.
I'll always be your mother,
he'll always be your dad.
You'll always be our child,
the child that we had.
But now you're gone, but yet you're here,
we'll sense you everywhere
You are our sorrow and our joy,
there's love in every tear.
Just know our love goes deep and strong,
We'll forget you never!
The child we had, but never had,
and yet will have forever.

"Pooh, promise me that you won't ever forget me, ever. Not even when I'm a hundred."

Pooh thought for awhile

"How old shall I be then?"

"Ninety-nine"

Pooh nodded

"I promise," he said

"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day,

so I never have to live without you."

a.a. milne

Shannon - mommy loves you and wishes you were still here. I hope you are happy wherever you are. I miss you lots and lots. Love, Mommy.