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?

Two months out of a long lifetime

Two months have gone by. I have said it before, this has been a long two months. Time, with regard to Shannon, moves at a different pace than regular time. And it is amazing how close to the surface the tears still are and how quickly they come. There is a lot of guilt involved in moving on, or moving forward, or just moving. There is no sense that any of this has an end, it just seems that the grief goes on, and sometimes you find some new pot of grief that you hadn't even found before and there you go, back into the grief again. And what comes next? I don't know. I don't know if I will be able to have any more children. How do you know when to give up? When it is time to say enough is enough? All I know is that 8 weeks later, I miss my daughter so much. I didn't know what a broken heart really felt like before now, or how much it hurts. I want my daughter back and it's just not fair.

Tantrums are underrated

Shannon died 5 weeks ago, and I am hitting this spot where I am feeling really lonely, but I am not sure why. I am frustrated that I can't figure out what my body is doing - no AF yet, but nothing else either. I am moody and crampy, which could be PMS, or it could be the progesterone, and I just want to have answers as to what the heck is going on in my body. And I know, in my head, that it's only been 5 weeks and that healing and grief and hormones take time, but I am just not accepting it. Today it hit me that I have to throw a birthday party for my son, and I don't want to be there myself because there are people who would come who are due in or around July and it hurts me to think that I will see them looking all pregnant (like I should be at that point) while I am here, swirling around the drain. I may feel differently and hopefully will be in a different place by then, but today it all seems like it will suck forever. It's like I've reached the temper tantrum phase of mourning, and I just want to scream 'it isn't fair' and 'why me?' all day, but that would get me nowhere. I don't even have anyone to be angry with, because I personally don't buy that it's ok to be mad at "God" because s/he loves you anyway. I don't believe that there is any greater purpose in all this. It just sucks.

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.

How hard is it to read the chart?

Ok - this isn't rocket science. How hard is it for the doctor's office to tell the nurse that is dealing with you for your post-loss appointment, that the person they are dealing with suffered a loss? Is it so hard to put a sticky note on the front of a chart so that the nurse doesn't ask you stupid questions or, worse yet, wonder why you are upset? Why should I be put in the position of explaining to some poor dumb doe that the reason why I cry when I come into my doctor's office is that every time I have been there lately, I have been in for an appointment for yet another failed pregnancy. And that having to explain this to every front desk person and nurse might be why the office stresses me out and raises my blood pressure. And that there may be better ways to give information and services to people who are dealing with the loss of a child. Like not putting it on me to fight with the insurance company over not paying the bill for the delivery of my baby.

I think I am going to write a letter to my doctor's office and remind them gently that people who have losses really do need a little extra sensitivity and that it would be helpful if the staff was a little more prepared when we came in. When I worked in education, I always took a few minutes before someone came in to meet with me to read their file and, if there was something that I needed to alert my staff to about the person, I did it. I know doctors are busy people, but why is that basic piece of courtesy so lost on a doctor?

Sometimes my Ipod speaks to me...

I bought this song off I-tunes long before I lost Shannon. When I was listening to it yesterday, the words had such a deeper meaning to me now that she is gone. I would give anything to go back in time and to have more time with her, and I wish that I appreciated better the time that we did have when I was pregnant, but I can't change it. All I have are my memories, and my pain, and my hope for the future. That's all we get after those we love are gone. Photos, heart-shaped boxes, momentos from a moment in time that always seems to have gone by too fast.

These moments in time always go by too fast because we never figure that something bad is going to happen to change it all in a blink of an eye. And it happens. And it is only after it happens that we remember that it always happens that way. We just don't think about it because that would be a crappy way to go through life, always waiting for the other shoe to drop and loving everyone as if they would die tomorrow. It makes for a great country song, but the reality is that it's really hard to do and most of us - well, me at least, just can't do it. I don't think that you can't sit there and be a functional human being if all you think about is how everyone (including yourself) could die at any second. I don't know if you would ever leave your house (or your bed) if you thought that way. But, I guess sometimes, life kicks you in the ass to remind you that it happens. And that it sucks when the death happens close to you. And nothing is closer to you than the life that was growing inside you.

This may be the first and last time that I quote from anyone who has ever been in a boy band again, but I put it out there for your consumption...

Ordinary Day - Nick Lachey

I wish I could tell you
the things I never got the chance to
I wish I was with you now
to see you smile again

I wish we had more time
but time goes by so fast
The moment comes and
Then the moment passes by
In the blink of an eye

And If I had one wish
I Wouldn't ask for money
I wouldn't ask for fame
I wouldn't ask for the power to make this world change
If i could have one thing
that one thing that I would chose is
one more ordinary day with you
With you

I wish I could see you
and be there where my arms could reach you
I wish I could let you know
how much you touch my life
maybe a little time is all the time we get
The Words we long to say are words that go unsaid
you can't go back again

But if I had one wish
I Wouldn't ask for money
I wouldn't ask for fame
I wouldn't ask for the power to make this world change
If i could have one thing that one thing that I would chose is
one more ordinary day
With you

I wish we had more time
Time goes by so fast
The moment comes and
Then the moment passes by
In the blink of an eye
But if I had one wish
I Wouldn't ask for money
I wouldn't ask for fame
I wouldn't ask for the power to make this world change, no
If i could have one thing
that one thing that I would chose is
one more ordinary day
Just one more ordinary day with you
with you