Thursday, December 5, 2019

Moments....

Moments in time… 
There are moments that we can replay in our minds, moments that are so vivid that it’s as if we can transport back to that time and space.
Then there are moments that disappear as if they never even happened.
Moments that we also try to forget, ones we push so deep down to try and “block”. The problem with the ones that we block from our memory is that they are still there in our subconscious. Waiting. Perhaps there they come back as a chill on our skin, a déjà vu moment. Or one of those debilitating moments that make your knees weak and make you feel like you’re going to collapse. The space where a past moment comes flooding back and takes you back to your reality.
It’s truly amazing what our minds can do to us. Mentally strong and together one minute, completely destroyed the next.
Mental Health is so truly important. However, so taboo and sheltered. BUT WHY? Why is it so hard for us to speak about? Why when it is something that is so truly important do we hide? Shouldn’t mental health follow the some serenity “prayer” for an addict trying to get their life back?
“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference? Wouldn’t this help those who hurt and ache have the knowledge to push harder?
I’m stuck where I always get stuck this time of year. All year really. In my reality of this thing called life, over the past six years, six months and thirteen days. Stuck in the balancing of happiness, joy and grief.
It’s something I am aware of. This person that I am. This woman that I am. This mother that I am. This, wife, daughter, aunt, sister, friend, colleague that I am.
I am in the moment. I stay in the moment when I can. But life is also wrapped up in other moments. Moments when I see a beautiful little girl with curls, helping her younger siblings. Moments that make me smile and find envy at the same time. Looking at other families have all of their children present but always knowing that I am one who doesn’t. Knowing that WHEN, not if, but when I mention our daughter around the holidays, that someone will make one ofthose comments.
I am in the moments where my two rainbow babies are no longer babies and I yearn for more. I cling to the last of the firsts we get. I cling to the moments. The ones that I can so vividly remember of them. The joy they have. The love they have. The innocence they have.
I look back often on moments. I can see how much has changed over the years. For the most part it has been strong growth. Good moments. I cling to these more often than not. I am in a space where my mental health is something I care about now. I’ve learned that self-care is about my physical, mental, and emotional work now. I’ve learned that the baggage I carry with me is layered.
I started on a journey to become the best me because of one of these moments. A moment where I looked at a picture of myself. A woman I couldn’t recognize. I lost the person I was the day that Delaney died. I became the person that I am now every single day since. I’ve grown and changed. I have quickly come to see how many flaws I have. But I also am embracing them. I looked into the face of myself in this photo and saw a broken, shattered woman that has neglecting her own needs for years. I am slowly taking them back. I am actively working on it. Why? BECAUSE, because I accept the things I cannot change and I have the courage to change the things I can. I have the courage to lose the ‘weight’ of the world I’ve packed on literally and figuratively. I cannot change that our daughter is no longer, physically on this earth, however, she is still so very much “alive” in our home. In our family, in our heart. I am accepting that more. I allowing the comments to not affect me as much. I’m teaching so many others in a positive way instead of harping on what they say. Education is key.
When it comes to taboo topics that we choose to not discuss, we should choose education. We need to break the silence and stigmas about uncomfortable conversations. We need to make the uncomfortable space, comfortable. We need to embrace the moments. 
The good moments, the uncomfortable moments. We need to embrace life…..
Today, although still very flawed, I look in the mirror and I am starting to know this woman. I’m starting to see her. The layers that have been tucked away. Today, I am ME.
I am a work in progress. I do it for my kids, my wife, my family….and I am doing it for me.

Thursday, May 16, 2019

6th birthday

Sitting here, on May 16th, as I’ve done for the past 6 years. Aching. Yearning. Lost. Weeping. Heavy arms, broken heart. I sit here and I feel all of the memories flood back. So vividly as if it were still happening. The week in May between Mother’s Day and Delaneys birthday is an emotional mash up of what was, what is and what can never be. The physical and mental angst of grief.... sitting here thinking of how six years ago I held my wife hand with our family surrounding us. We were numb. We were in shock. We were waiting for my labor to kick in. 

I replay the day as if I’m stuck in it. These memories that are so real. I find myself trying to remember everything else from the 38 weeks that I carried her in my body. I think of the process of getting pregnant with her. The excitement and fear of becoming a mama. Planning out all the fun baby planning milestones. Pick a name, the first most important decision you make for your child after you decide to have one. I remember being afraid to eat anything that could harm her. I wouldn’t even touch coffee. I mean, I was extremely ill with hyperemisis so my diet consisted of potato perogis, crackers, ginger ale, sour popsicles, bananas and water for months and months. I remember the flutters that started. I cling to her movements and wish I could remember them as vivid as do remembering what the feeling of her lifeless body felt like in my womb. These memories that are thought to be cellular. 

“Cellular memory can refer to: A variation of body memory, the yet to be proven scientifically hypothesis that memories can be stored in individual cells. A recognition of a memory of an incident, event, or experience which is at once felt throughout the body ie the memory at the cellular level”

It’s interesting what our bodies can do with cell memory. How trauma can be stored and rear it’s ugly head. I think back on these 27 hours of laboring her. What would it be like to meet my daughter? I didn’t think of how not hearing her cry would destroy my world. I didn’t think of the face my wife would make meeting our child for the first time. The faces that she made when she would read books to our daughter. Both of us sharing the fears of being good parents for her. Each sharing promises of the things we would never let our children go through. Thinking of how she would look, how she would feel. Spending 27 hours surrounded by our loved ones trying to hold us up while we were falling apart at the seams. 

I think back to her delivery and how scared I was. I was afraid to push to hard, I was afraid to hurt her. I was still trying to fathom what would happen when she came out. Would they be able to do anything to save her? 

I count down the hours to the deep breath and calming peace I receive on her birthday. When I play two songs for her and blow out a birthday candle. It’s the release of exhaustion and tears, followed by a smile and a wish for her. 

It’s my Delaney strength. The reason for my being now. She is the reason I exist. Being her Mama is what I was meant to do. I don’t get to mother her physical being. But I do mother her soul. 

This year would’ve been an adventurous one. A year where our plates and scheduled would’ve been even more full than they are. We would’ve either had a little girl in dance, karate, softball, soccer, or whatever else made her happy. I would hopefully gotten Racheal used to doing a curly hair girls hair. I imagine all the things she would do and all the things she would love. I imagine the messes she would make. I imagine her being the best big sister and a mini mother hen. I imagine her to like singing and dancing like her mama, and love being outside doing projects with mommy. I have these amazing dreams and in them I get a glimpse into our life of how it could have turned out. 

People look at me with sadness when I say her name. I don’t think that people will ever understand the depth of peace it brings to say her name, see her name and hear her name. It shows that her life does matter. It proves that just because her physical body isn’t here with us, she will always be a part of us. She’s 1/3 of my heart. I will love and miss her until my last breath. 

I may have my bad days. My sad days. However, I’m no longer a grieving mother  much as I am a bereaved mother. There is a big misconception between the two. Learning to parent a child whom isn’t here on earth has been an interesting task. Floating between caring what others think and not giving a shit what others think. I find joy in the time I had with her growing in my womb. I have those memories to always reach back for. I have those memories to cling to on the days where I’m stuck in a bit of self doubt. When I go to the ugly part of guilt. I am her Mama. Delaney is my daughter. My beautiful first born. My little girl that died before she was born. My little girl who is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen. 

Don’t be sad for me. Say her name for me. Remember her with me. If you knew me when I was pregnant, remember the joy she brought us. Don’t cry for me. Write her name. Smile when you do it. Remember a little girl that has brought so much power in her name. Don’t forget her for me. Hear her name, don’t stop listening when we talk about her. She is always going to be a part of us. 

Happy birthday, Delaney Ann. My wish for you is..... (close eyes and blow)

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Pregnancy loss and infertility

Sharing my story.... always feels like I’ll miss something. A little about me. I live in CT my beautiful wife, Racheal. I am a relationship manager by day, loving wife and mother by night. 

Mother... A title I have dreamed about since I was a child in pigtails. A place I couldn't wait to be. I would love to share my journey of how I became a mother to Delaney, Tristen and Teegan. 

Like some love stories go, you fall in love, you get married, you start a family, it's all white picket fence storyline and rather boring to the outside eye. However I dreamed of this "boring life for as long as I could remember. I couldn't believe how awesome it was to find out we were pregnant. It was our first iui cycle in Sept of 2012. I remember how anxious I was to pee on the stick for the first time. When it came out positive, I ran outside screaming to my wife, whom at the time was walking our dogs, to tell her. We couldn't believe it! How the hell was this so easy??? Fast forward five weeks and I ended up in the hospital. I was also so lucky to develop Hyperemisis Gravendarum. What the hell was this? Yea I'm the 1% of women whose body produces too many hormones that pregnancy is not a fun place. The pregnancy was hard to say the least, however Racheal and I watched my growing belly. We picked out our theme, Dr Suess. We found out we were having a little girl. Our very own ray of Sunshine. We talked about her in pigtails on the first day of school, and what she would look like. We read to her and told her all about the world she would be coming in to. We counted down the weeks. We decorated her nursery, we washed her clothes, we sang to her. I was almost time! Our baby girl had so much love she would be coming to. We did our baby classes and got prepared for delivery, breast feeding and being a family of three. In a terribly sick pregnancy all we could do was hang on to the fact she would be here soon. In my third trimester I started to gain weight finally. 36 weeks that all changed. Something changed. Something was different. We were blissfully unaware. We were naive. 

At 37 weeks I told our OB that something was wrong. I told her that Delaney wasn't moving as much. She told me that this was normal. She told me that she was running out of space and that "you're carrying a watermelon in the size of a watermelon how much do you think she can move" words that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Here I am a first time Mama, and my dr knows best, right? Wrong! I called the dr two days later and told her I still didn't feel right and she advised me to drink juice to feel her move and she would see me in two days. 

Today was my last day of work, 38 weeks, I can't believe how close it is to meeting our daughter. I hope she loves us. I hope we give her the world. It was my 38 weeks appt and I get to hear my babies heartbeat...except I don't. There isn't one. The nurse couldn't find a heartbeat, a second nurse couldn't find it, the Dr couldn't find it and sent me to get a sonogram. I sat in the sonogram room, alone, afraid, and knowing before anyone could say the words...my baby was dead; my daughter...dead. Babies don't die after 12 weeks? It's too late to have a miscarriage. Everything is ready though. What do you mean there is no heartbeat? The sound of silence walking back to my dr office as I collapse to my knees. How the hell do I call my wife at work and tell her our baby is gone? But wait she is still inside me, what do i do now? My
Hospital bag is at home, do I need it now? 

I drove myself to the hospital and waited for my wife to get there after her hour commute, I waited for our families to come, all who lived over an hour away. I sat there quiet. Is my baby dead? Or can they save her? My BP started to rise. I had to give birth vaginally. 27 hours of induced labor. Delaney was born. 7:20pm on May 17th, 2013. She is beautiful. She is still. She is perfect. Silence. Complete silence resonated the room. She was here. Our daughter. I'm a mother. Except was I? I became extreme eclampsic and coded 5 hours after delivery. Super scary. My wife almost lost me after we just said goodbye to our first born. 

The Drs ruled her death as an "unexplained fetal demise" WTF is that! WTF does that mean? No I didn't have a fetal demise. My baby died. My daughter named, Delaney, died! 

After seeing specialists and having multiple tests done, we found out that I have a blood clotting disorder called factor V lieden, I was pre eclampsic and I had a blood infection that went into the placenta and took away the nutrients from Delaney causing her death. 

Life after that was no longer about me. It is about her. I live and I love for her. I'm a warrior mother. I have this strength and I know it's her. I call it my Delaney strength. Grief is a life long journey now. Cycles and hamster wheels of balancing life and loss at the same time. 

Since losing her in 2013, we did 7 rounds of iui in 2014, the last one ending in a miscarriage in October of 2014. How did this happen? Were we ever going to have a rainbow baby? We went on to seek adoption and quickly learned it wasn't for us. After one more round of IVF, we found out we were having twins. Two boys. Another scary pregnancy with Hyperemisis. This time watching every thing as though these babies would die on me too. Living most days hour by hour. I developed a condition called Colastasis and again pre eclampsia. My body was literally trying to kill my boys! Not again! The difference is that now I had a voice. Now I knew what to look for, now I wasn't afraid to push back on my drs, I wasn't afraid to march my ass to labor and delivery for a piece of mind. This time I have Delaney watching us. 

Our rainbow babies were born via emergency c section on April 6th, 2016. Almost three years after we kissed our daughter. I know she protected us all. Against all odds, with my body trying to take them and my life, we survived. She kept us safe. 

Life after loss is no longer about the past. Because there is none. Life as you knew it is over. Life is now about living for and existing. I no longer live for me. My life ended on 5/17/13. I started living for Delaney that day. I live for all three of my children now. All three of my children. My boys will know all about their sister. How she brought them to us and kept them safe. I know our girl is always around. I feel her. And I know that for the rest of our life, she will be. 

Never be afraid to use your voice. Delaney gave me mine. She taught me never to stop pushing for what I believe and to never be afraid to challenge someone else's word. She gave me life because the day she died, I started living for her.