Two Years Ago...

Two years ago today we welcomed our firstborn daughter, Larissa, into this world. Two years ago today my life changed forever. I became a mom, but not a parent. Two years ago today, I welcomed my beautiful daughter into this world and sadly said goodbye to her forever.

Larissa isn't here to parent but I'll never stop being her mom. This year, Larissa's birthday is different from last. I'm a mom and a parent to one child who is forever in our hearts and to our daughter, Ambree, whose cooing sounds brought me out of my restless sleep and brought a smile to my face on a day filled with sadness.

We will spend the day again this year printing our packets of information and mailing them to our two main local hospitals. Yes, Larissa may not be here but I'll never stop being her mom and her short life will forever impact the lives of grieving families trying to make sense of their tragic loss. I know our packets of information HAVE made a difference. I've received many emails with kind words of gratitude. And my OB recently told me of a women two years past her full-term still birth whom he gave our packet to with hopes of helping her with her grief. She is so affected by her loss she is paralyzed with sadness and shock and cannot move forward. I hope our story of Larissa and where we are today gives her hope and helps bring her to a better place. Sadly, babies and children do die. Our world is not perfect and I'm one of many grieving mothers. It's a taboo subject as people don't know what to say, but Larissa was very real and I want people to know she's a part of our family.

Two years has brought with it many changes and emotions. We now have Ambree whom I savor every second with and never take any time with her for granted.  However, I am a mom to two girls and anyone who asks knows that. Yes, anyone, including acquaintances and passer-bys. I'll never deny Larissa's existence. She gave me forty fabulous weeks and made me a mom. She changed my life forever. November has a whole new meaning and feeling to me. It will forever be the month we welcomed and said goodbye to our firstborn all in one day. However, I'm in a better place this year than last and I hope with each subsequent year I come to greater terms with my loss. Anyone who has walked in my shoes knows the mom of the stillborn baby is affected the most. My husband lost a daughter, my parents and his a grandchild and so forth. However, I carried her for 9 months. I labored and delivered. I dealt with my postpartum body, hormones crashing and trying to conceive another child. I continue to tense up at the infamous question 'Is she your only?' as strangers admire Ambree. But she's not. I'm the mom to two beautiful little girls, one here, one not. I'll continue to parent Ambree and will continue to parent Larissa as best as I can...by continuing her informational packets, visiting the cemetery daily and talking to her in my mind. I'll forever have a hole in my heart and long for my precious firstborn daily, but like many of my elderly and wiser patients have told me, I'll make the best of what I've been dealt. That's all I can do in addition to loving my precious daughter(s) forever.

I love you Larissa...Happy birthday.

Easter

This past Sunday we celebrated Easter.  Yes, this year was more of a celebration than last in that we celebrated Ambree, but I was well aware of Larissa's absence.  Of course I am aware of Larissa not being present during each of my daily activities, but somehow holidays have a way of heightening our losses.  I cannot believe that it is already our second Easter without Larissa.  I was reminded once again of what should have been as I scoured the racks in search of the perfect Easter dress for Ambree.  Anyone whom has tried to dress a six week old infant in a dress and tights is aware it is no easy task.  Each dress that I admired was too big for Ambree, but would have been perfect for Larissa.  Would have been but cannot be because Larissa is not here.  My life since November of 2010 has been filled with should have and would have been(s).  It's still surreal to me and although Larissa is on my mind often the reality of her absence creeps up on me in a way I cannot explain.  As our family expands, Ambree and any other subsequent children will always notice a sadness on behalf of myself and my husband as we are grateful for what we have but ache so badly for what we have lost. 

It's so strange to me because as I purchased items to fill Ambree's Easter basket I was well aware that I should be filling a 17 month old's basket as well.  However, Ambree is Larissa's gift to my husband and me.  Without Larissa we would never have had Ambree, but we would still have Larissa.  I cannot imagine life without Ambree but I was given no choice but to continue life without Larissa.  

Ambree was less than interested in the Easter bunny's arrival.  My husband and I laughed as she cried to eat while we finished opening her Easter basket.  As a six week old, all she cares about is eating and sleeping, so Easter was of little importance to her, but we still had fun.  We dressed her in her first Easter sleeper (inclusive of little bunny feet) and later tortured her in a very frilly dress and tights.  The things parents do to their children for their own entertainment.  Of course, we got a lot of photos so someday Ambree will be well aware of how we tortured her.  But when I look at the photos taken I see two happy parents with their newborn, but know those photos are not complete.  Larissa should be in those photos, but then again, Ambree would not.  I miss Larissa so very much and our family will forever be 'minus one', but in some sense it is now 'plus one' because unless by accident we would not have had another baby so close to Larissa had she survived.  

So another holiday came and went and we survived.  Again, this year was much more joyful than last, but we will forever long for Larissa's presence and wonder what our lives would have been like had she not been stillborn.  Our lives are forever changed in ways that only other bereaved parents can understand.  I told my husband the other day that since Ambree's arrival, I have three baby girls:  my almost 4 year old niece whom I still call 'baby girl', Larissa and now Ambree.  The reality of it though is that my niece and Ambree will continue to grow and hopefully live a full happy life and will no longer be my  baby girls, but Larissa will always remain my baby girl as that is all I will ever know.

She's Here!

It's been quite some time since I've posted and this post in particular is long overdue. Our miracle baby, Ambree, arrived safely on February 21st at 11:04 pm. Of course, she didn't arrive without a fight and causing me a few last sleepless nights, but she is here! She is already six weeks old.

     We had an amnio completed at 37 weeks to check for lung maturity. There was an initial error in the results, indicating our little one's lungs were not mature. The test was completed on the Friday prior to Ambree's arrival. That day was a challenge as the amnio was completed at the same hospital in which I delivered Larissa. Passing the room in which I gave birth to Larissa brought back that night from November of 2010 as if it were yesterday.

     Of course, I anticipated this and anyone whom has walked in my shoes knows that trauma never escapes you.  My heart sunk entering the labor and delivery unit and seeing that familiar room 337.  However, once we were there my fears subsided and I was beyond ready to deliver my baby girl.  Things did not work out as such.  After the completion of the amnio (a very easy, relatively pain-free procedure) we waited patiently for two hours for the results of the amnio while hooked up to a fetal monitor to ensure our baby wasn't in any distress.  We were informed at the end of our two hour wait that the results indicated our baby's lungs were not mature.  I was disappointed, but obviously didn't want to place my baby in jeopardy by delivering prematurely.  

     That was a Friday...fast forward now to Tuesday, the day we brought our rainbow baby into this world.  I received a call from my OB-GYN's office that the full results of my amnio were in and that our baby's lungs were indeed mature...very mature.  So, a few hours after that phone call and continuous poking of my belly to ensure our baby was okay, labor was induced.  Again, for whatever reason my journey to parenthood was a struggle and Ambree was not about to enter this world without a fight.  Half an hour after labor was induced, I was dilated 3cm, but was also passing significant blood clots.  My OB quickly made the decision to deliver Ambree via an emergency C-section as he was worried about a possible placental abruption.  That was all I needed to hear as I had read many stories of stillbirth secondary to placental abrution.  

     However, I didn't have too much time to worry as I was prepped for surgery and in under half an hour from the time my OB decided to do a section, Ambree arrived safely.  Granted the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck and arm, but according to our fetal monitor she was never in any distress, and entered this world screaming.  

     I would love to say that her screams gave me instant relief...and they did to some extent.  However, a cry wasn't enough for me.  After all, I'm a trauma victim.  I did feel very relieved after seeing her and the pediatrician giving her a 9.9 on the Apgar Scale.  That made me relax and I was overjoyed with her arrival.  There isn't anything like it in the world.  

     We never did find a reason for my passing blood clots.  My placenta was fine as was the rest of my anatomy.  My doctor surmises it was from my cervix ripening too quickly in conjunction with my water breaking.  Either way, it doesn't matter as she is here and she's just perfect.  Hence why I haven't posted in a while.  I've been too busy holding my little one and marveling at her beauty.

     My advice to all bereaved moms no matter where you are in your journey is the following:  Pregnancy and childbirth when all goes well is a miraculous event.  I know all too well how scary it is to try again and how long nine months feels to a bereaved mom.  However, speaking from experience, the birth of a live child makes every ounce of worry, irrational thoughts, and tears shed all worthwhile.  While I type this with one hand I hold my miracle with my free hand.  She has restored joy in our lives an had we not tried again, we would never have gotten to experience this joy.  However, our journey has not ended with Ambree's arrival.  Ambree has also helped make Larisa feel that much more real and makes me miss her even more.  So, although I feel joy once again, I will always long for my firstborn.  It's weird because without Larissa we would never have Ambree, but we would still have Larissa.  I should have a live 17 month old and a newborn, but life had other plans for us and you must face what life deals you.

"Wait Till the Baby Comes..."

"Wait till the baby comes."  A common expression that I hear all too often, in fact, I probably hear someone say this to me practically every single day.  Usually, people say it when I yawn.  So, I can't help but ask myself what that comment even means.  Are these people insinuating that once our little one arrives, I won't get any sleep?  Little do they know that I yawn (and often) because I haven't slept well since November 15th of 2010 when we had to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' to our precious daughter on the same day.  Initially, my daughter kept me awake at night because I longed so badly for Larissa to be crying in her nursery, not her mom sobbing in her bedroom.  It's not natural to bury your child and me crying for months on end after delivery is certainly not the way I had planned on spending the duration of 2010 and much of 2011.  I cried more tears than one could imagine possible to shed and on top of that the moments I would dose off, I would awake to an awful panic attack as the reality of losing Larissa slapped me in the face all over again.  Oh, and then there were the months of trying to conceive unsuccessfully due to a luteal phase defect (which I knew was a source of our infertility but our doctor failed to recognize as such).  I would lie awake at night reflecting upon the forty weeks I spent pregnant with Larissa and on cloud nine and lay awake with thoughts of what should have been and the fear of it never being again haunting me.  Then, once pregnancy was achieved I worried incessantly about having a miscarriage.  That fear was replaced with the fear of having another stillborn baby after I reached the 20 week mark in my current pregnancy.  Now that I am approaching the end, I lay awake, poking my belly waiting for life to move inside of me.  I lay awake shedding tears as I long so much to hold and nurture Larissa.  I lay awake shedding tears with the fear of losing not only our firstborn, but our second born as well.  So, for all those people who treat me like I am a mom expecting her first child whom feel the need to comment when I let signs of my sleepless nights evidence themselves, I have two things to say to you:  1) This is not my first child and 2)  I am very well prepared for sleepless nights and will much prefer being awake at night feeding and comforting our little one than sobbing in my bed with my haunting thoughts.  

And for every person whom has asked me the other million dollar question "Are you ready?"  Again, I wonder to myself what that question even means.  I was told at 40 weeks gestation that our precious daughter (whom I took every precaution to make arrive in this world healthy), no longer had a beating heart.  As if the news that my firstborn was deceased at 40 weeks gestation was not traumatic enough, we then had to relay the news to our family and friends and I had to labor and deliver our beautiful daughter.  The trauma certainly did not stop there...with any trauma comes irrational thoughts, anger, rage, sadness, panic attacks and a loss of innocence.  Every one always says it can happen to me, but no one truly believes that until they fall victim to trauma themselves.   So, am I ready?  No, I am not ready.  I am not ready for the sound of a crying baby in the delivery room, as all I know is fetal demise.  I am not ready with a prepared nursery and baby items readily available in our house, because after a full term stillbirth none of that matters.  I am very much so ready to be not only a mom, but a parent.  I want this so badly, it hurts.  I'm ready for the sleepless nights and challenges associated with being a parent.  I am not ready in the typical sense...again, no nesting and/or preparations for me.  But, I am ready, so very ready, to be a parent to a live child. 

Petrified...

So here I am approaching the end of yet another pregnancy.  I could potentially deliver our little one in just three more weeks.  The end of this journey brings such different fears than that with Larissa.  I was petrified for delivery with Larissa as she was our first, so of course, all the unknowns of labor and delivery danced in my head.  Now, I still worry about labor and delivery, but for other reasons.  To me, the labor and delivery was the easy part and I get very irritated when I hear women complain about it.  After all, why do they have a right to bitch?  They got to take home the prize at the end of their journey.  Which is obviously where my fears and anxieties stem from at this point in our journey.  I am petrified that even if we get to the delivery unit and there is a heartbeat (awww, that wonderful sound of life inside of me), I am scared that something will happen during labor and delivery and we will lose our second born.  Because when your firstborn is stillborn it changes you as a mother.  I am now convinced that my body has failed me once, why can't it fail me again? 

I look back at my pregnancy with Larissa and how upset I was with my mother-in-law at the end whom wanted to come into the delivery unit with me.  I was also worried about letting loose with my bowels during labor and delivery.  I laugh at that now and WISH, oh how I WISH, they were my worries.  Now, when I hear other ladies' trivial concerns, I politely smile and walk away.  I cannot be bothered with such nonsensical worries....having a bowel movement during delivery is no big deal if you get to take your child home with you and share a lifetime with him or her. 

To further add salt to injuries, the stories of mom's whom have endured multiple losses keeps me grounded in reality, that no matter what any medical professional and/or friend, family member or confidant tells me...lightening can indeed strike twice.  I have listened to other parent's stories of multiple loss and although everyone thinks it will never happen to them, I now TRULY know that I am no more special than any other person and lightening can very well strike me twice also.  Larissa's death has taught me that all those cliche sayings (i.e. God doesn't give you more than you can handle: Everything happens for a reason, etc) are just coping mechanisms.  These are sayings we tell ourselves to help us cope and get us through the shittier times in our lives.  

I reflect upon November of 2010 when I gave birth to Larissa.  Although the day was extremely traumatizing, I can still feel the weight of her in my arms.  I long for that again and know that we are so very close.  This time I pray for a happier ending.  I pray that when our little one enters this world we will hear that ear piercing cry...which will be music to our ears and will, I imagine, forever stay with us.  Larissa is thought about each and every day and I wish she was here to know that she is going to be a big sister.  Potentially (if I opt for early delivery), in just three short weeks I will hopefully feel the weight of another little one in my arms.  This time I pray that our baby is filled with life, squirming, crying, fussing, what have you.  I admire the 4D ultrasounds which is like looking at a snapshot of inside my uterus.  These photos are a tease...I need to see and hold this live, healthy baby. 

Oh, we are SO very close, but I also know what a difference a day makes and I try to believe that all will be well.  However, until our little one is home with us, I cannot feel confident that we are in the clear.  I won't give up hope, but I am guarded and cautious.  See, three weeks seems like a short time, but when you think about how many breaths we take each day and how precious each of those breaths truly are, three weeks is a VERY long time. 

People Will Never Understand

Why is it that I am the one that always feels badly when people ask the dreaded question "Is this your first?"  I never deny Larissa's existence as she was very real and will forever be a part of our family, yet I always hesitate with my answer to that question.  Sometimes I leave it at "No, this is our second" and hope the conversation ends with that.  Other times I have to go into detail and deal with people's look of pity and embedding silence as they do not know how to respond.  

That's interesting to me...people just don't know what to say.  And why would they?  I am in such a minority that of course no one can even fathom what has happened to us.  I am so irritated and tired with people's ignorance and lack of knowing what to say, that I cannot stand it anymore.  I am an outspoken person to begin with and being 33 weeks pregnant is bringing out the most ugly side of my personality.  I am on edge and hypersensitive.  It's funny to me how I find myself telling others it is okay when I tell them about my past, as I feel bad because of their reactions.  Well, I am tired of it.  I am so damn tired of people saying whatever the hell they want to say to me without any regards to my feelings and I have to feel badly about letting others know about my traumatic past that haunts me each and every day! 

Let's begin with the million dollar question...."Are they going to do a C-section this time?"  WTF?!!!  People obviously do not realize how nervous that question makes me...leaves me awake at night plagued with worry that it was horrific enough that my first daughter died before labor was even induced last time and that getting to labor and delivery with a live child does not guarantee a live child at the end of delivery.  And to answer that stupid question...no, a C-section is not planned.  My daughter did not die during labor and delivery...even though I had to labor and deliver our deceased daughter.  An experience that will forever scar me.  It makes me so sad and angry and leaves me with such worry with this current pregnancy.  I want so hard to believe in this little one, but all I know is fetal demise.  Losing your first child changes you in ways one cannot put into words.  I am traumatized but it goes further than that.  I worry about everything: worry if the baby isn't moving, worry if the baby is moving too much, worry with each and every growing pain I am experiencing.  And aside from the trauma, my view on life has changed.  I wish I can say I am one of those woman who took a bad situation and made the most of it.  In some sense I did...with the creation of my informational packets to help other bereaved parents along in their journey.  But, I am no longer the person I was before Larissa.  Life is cruel and so very unfair and sure I continue on this venture of my so called life, but I am depressed, angry and bitter.  The jovial Jolon that people once knew is gone and will never return.

I am also very tired of the comments "Everything happens for a reason." or "It is all in God's plan."  Again, I am so tired of people genuinely believing that.  Let them lose any of their children and see how they feel about those stupid coping words, as I like to call them.  What reason would that be?  Again, life is cruel and the world is an unfair place.  Undeserving parents (and I use the term parent loosely) have multiple children.  Not because they want to nurture them and provide a meaningful life for them, but rather because they are the people that are blessed multiple times.  

I potentially have 4 or 6 weeks remaining to this pregnancy based on lung maturity.  Give me the strength to get through this next month or so.  I need patience...my patience has been lost on everyone's insensitive comments.  What I really need is to hide in my house for the next four to six weeks and avoid all of society.  However, I know that is not possible, so for the next four to six weeks I will grin and bear it as that is all I can do.  I will try my hardest to focus on my little one and try to believe and gain confidence that all will be well this time around.  

I Made it Through

Ahhh, the holidays are over.  I am so grateful that our house has resumed to 'normal.'  Normal in the sense that all the Christmas decorations have been tucked neatly back into their storage bins and by January 2nd, our house appeared as if we didn't even celebrate the holidays at all.  Technically we did, but then again we didn't.  Sure, I was present for each of the festivities and I put on my best so called happy face.  I struggle to force a happy face and I don't feel that I should be expected to be happy.  For what?  The sake of others?  Others assume that if I am smiling, I am happy.  However, it is quite the opposite.   I haven't been happy since early November of 2010.  My life was shattered and each and every day I get by.  But I'm pregnant again, so all assume that everything is just fine.  Those of you whom have lost a child at any point in your pregnancy journey and/or after your child's birth know that life goes on because it does and we go with it, but it is never, ever the same.  A new pregnancy brings a different kind of joy, one that is constantly overshadowed by fear and worry.  But again, I don't expect those whom have never walked in my shoes to understand that.  Ok, maybe I do, but I know that they do not and never will.  

Case in point...an acquaintance of mine whom was due the exact same day as I was with Larissa, now has a healthy one year old boy whom was born the day after Larissa silently entered this world.  We have been in touch with one another since then as she feels some connection to what I have gone through as her first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at 8 weeks.  However, she clearly has no idea how I am feeling or what struggles I face daily as she cheerfully sent me an email the day before Christmas eve announcing another pregnancy.  She worded it a manner that was a knife in my heart...that she and her husband are expecting a sibling for their perfectly healthy live child.  That's nice...but I don't really care.  To tell you the truth, I hate any announcement of pregnancy and/or birth of a live child.  I can care less that it is so easy for everyone else and she really expects me to jump for joy that she is pregnant the same time as me again?!!!!  I cannot help but think that I am going to suffer another fetal demise and she and her husband will give birth to yet another live, healthy child.  I wish I can be somewhat happy for them, but I am not.  That's the effect of trauma...it transforms you into a person you do not recognize and makes you think and react in ways that one would never think possible.  

To add salt to open wounds....my sister announced her pregnancy to me on Christmas day.  Really...Christmas day?  This pregnancy is different...different because I am happy for my sister and brother-in-law, but am jealous.  Jealous that they already have a perfectly healthy 3.5 year old whom I love dearly but imagine Larissa every time I am near her.  Jealous that she practically just peed on the stick and feels so confident that nothing could possibly go wrong that everyone and their brother already knows she is expecting again.  How nice, expecting again...another child to join your already perfect family.  Yes, I am pregnant with another child but I don't have any expectations to bring a live child home.  I know nothing but fetal demise.  So, yes again, I should be excited for my sister, but I'm really not.  I'm mad that it is such an exciting time for her and that joy was taken from me with the death of Larissa, as was any subsequent joy in my life.   A few days after she announced her pregnancy to me, she told me how worried she was about my reaction as she didn't want to hurt my feelings.  Really?  That's why she told me on Christmas day.  A day that is so very awful for me already.   People really do not understand and never will...she was only thinking about herself because if she was remotely considering me, she would have withheld such information from me for as long as possible.  I won't even begin to mention how miserable she was either during her entire pregnancy with my niece because of the weight gain and being uncomfortable.  I'm sorry, did I not gain 38 pounds with Larissa to never get the prize at the end of our journey? 

So, needless to say I am glad the holidays have come to an end.  And I know people expect you to be positive and count your blessing, but I am not going to do that.  I will give a shout out to Bobbi Brown gel eyeliner as it did not run, smear or rub off through all the tears that were shed on Christmas eve, day and the days leading up to these days.  I am also grateful that I won't have to hear "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year." for yet another year.  The person who wrote that song clearly has never lost a child.  

Christmas is over and for that I am grateful...there's my little bit of optimism in my otherwise extremely shitty life.