Bittersweet

     It's been four years since Larissa's birth.  It's surreal.  It's still raw.  It seems so long ago but still hurts like it was yesterday.  Four years ago my heart was shattered into a trillion little pieces.  Four years ago I never thought I would smile again or feel any joy.
     Four years after losing Larissa I frantically work to prepare a monster bash for Austin's first  birthday.  It's bittersweet...cupcakes, balloons, banners and tears.  Happiness and gratefulness for my precious one year old son and my almost three year old daughter.  However, sadness lingers.  A sadness and a longing for my precious firstborn whom would have been four.  It's incomprehensible that I should have a four year old.  She would have been four.  She should be here and she should be four.
     She gave us two little blessings that restored that love and joy that our shattered lives needed.  Is it coincidence that Austin's birthday is the day before Larissa's?  Or did she want to stop seeing us so sad on her birthday that she gave us Austin to bring us joy again?  It's another question without an answer.  That's what makes infant loss so devastating.  We lost a lifetime with Larissa and are left with so much wonder.
     Last year, I remembered Larissa in the same hospital on the same day we met her as I cuddled and nurtured our new bundle.  I remember the pain I was in from my second C-section.  It was an intense pain but was no comparison to the emotional pain we had endured three years prior.  That pain is still there and it never goes away and we will never forget our precious newborn.  However, on Larissa's fourth birthday I was sad and grateful.  My heart, once again, feels a love so strong it hurts, but in a good way.  I spent Austin's first birthday transforming our house into a monster bash so spectacular that there wasn't a monster detail forgotten.  In between frosting cupcakes, cooking food and decorating, I remember our precious Larissa and the gifts she gave to us.  I reviewed and revised her packets and we, as a family, delivered them to the hospital.  We took Ambree to pick out balloons that we left at her grave.  We put a cake balloon in the ground that Ambree very excitedly sang Happy Birthday to her big sister.  Ironically, there were four candles on that cake balloon that Ambree proudly counted out loud.  So yes, tears streamed down my face as Ambree sang to her big sister but I also smiled.  I smile for what we have and I long for what we have lost.
     Larissa's with us though.  She watches over her sister and brother.  I know they are the gifts she gave us.  Every year on Larissa and Austin's birthday I celebrate all three of my  children.  However, even with the challenges parenting brings, I celebrate my kids daily.  I recognize I have two little miracles at home and I certainly don't need a birthday to have a celebration.  Each and every day with my babies is a gift and a celebration in and of itself.
   

Continues to Sting...

    It will be four years in November that we lost our precious first born, Larissa, to full-term stillbirth.  The loss of a child is a loss so deep that only another parent whom has lost a child can truly relate to that pain.  Time doesn't lessen the pain, rather one builds a hard exterior to it.  But that pain is carried by me daily.  I experience that pain whenever my two living children hit a milestone, celebrate a birthday, make me smile or even when they frustrate me.  But sadly, and more irritating than anything, I feel that pain and re-live my own loss with the birth of every newborn around me. It's certainly not because I feel resentment or jealousy toward any of the proud new parents, but because it's different for me. 

     When a new baby enters this world, I have flashbacks to the night I was scheduled to be induced with Larissa. Visions of the nurse frantically searching for the familiar 'swish, swish, swish' of life inside me as we heard the dreaded words 'there's no heartbeat.' Words and a night I put in a 'safe' place. A place created by me where I tucked that horrific, life changing night, for it to somehow rear it's ugly head every time a new parent welcomes their screaming bundle. 

     It's almost four years and I've had two more children since then, so people no longer protect me. I'm subjected to the excitement one would naturally feel as a friend, acquaintance and/or family member gives birth and everyone excitedly discusses the details of the birth and admires the new photos. I look and I discuss.  Dare I say I'm even happy for the new parents? I am happy for them, but I'm so very sad. With every discussion regarding a new birth and every photo shared, I flashback to the first night I gave birth and what a different scenario panned out.  I try to suppress the salty tears I feel flooding my eyes as I get away from the excitement, but those tears I shed for what I have lost.  The greatest loss of all losses.  We lost our firstborn.  We lost the excitement of being a new parent.  We lost the joy of bringing baby home, hearing her first cry, giving the first bottle, bath, her first steps...we lost a lifetime with our little girl. 

     So, when another couple welcomes their baby, I sadly recount all that I have lost. I'm the mom to three children, one which I was robbed of every opportunity to parent.  I don't want to feel sad, but it's in me. It bubbles up to a point I'm unable to control and it overflows with those tears that I try so hard to suppress. Tears that represent the sting of losing a child. A sting that never fully heals and is always with us.  A sting that may be duller on some days than others but a sting that reminds us of what should have been. 

November 14th 2013

     I haven't neglected my blog by choice and certainly haven't failed to blog in light of what would have been Larissa's third birthday.  Instead, we were celebrating this year in a new way.  I was a day shy of 38 weeks pregnant three years to the date that we learned the devastating news that our precious firstborn had no heartbeat.  So, on this sad date, I was in the hospital for a scheduled C-section, following an amnio that was completed two days prior to determine lung maturity. 
     Yes, three years to the date of the worst day of my life, we were back in the same hospital ready to deliver our third child.  We arrived at the hospital with our usual anxieties surrounding our baby's delivery and this year I had a new fear of something terrible happening to me during the surgery.  How can I not have a fear?  Up to the delivery of this little baby, we have never experienced a 'normal' delivery per say.  We entered the labor and delivery unit and passed that awful and familiar room in which I delivered Larissa.  We were greeted by my OB and were told we were the only ones delivering at that time.  Turns out, I was the only delivery that entire day. 
     Surprisingly, as they prepped me for my scheduled surgery, I felt oddly calm.  Perhaps it was the date of our little baby's delivery or perhaps it was all that my baby had endured and survived in utero that made me feel it was going to be okay.   Either way, I was calm and almost felt Larissa with us.  The date of our baby's delivery was too ironic to not feel that Larissa had sent us this blessing. 
     Fast forward three hours after arriving at the hospital for prep before my surgery.  We went into the surgery room and at 12:21pm, a little boy (yes, a boy) arrived safely and healthy, screaming (despite the cord being wrapped around his little neck).  He was a healthy 8lbs 5oz and 20.5 inches long.  We named him Austin...a name we finally agreed upon a few weeks prior to delivery.  I had a feeling it was a boy as we never had agreed upon a boy's name with my previous pregnancies.  It certainly didn't eliminate any shock from us, however, as during the amnio twice our baby was referred to as a 'she' which really made us ready to deliver another little girl.  So, needless to say, we were surprised and had to adjust to having a boy.  Boys diaper changes certainly are more of a challenge and man, can that little guy eat. 
     So, yes, three years to the date of learning the unthinkable about Larissa, we welcomed a new bundle into our lives.  I sit and look at my little man in awe.  His pregnancy brought with it many 'concerns' all of which turned out to be nothing.  He truly is our little miracle and I have a new confidence that Larissa is truly with us.  Like I said before, it's almost like I felt her presence during his delivery.  She sent us this little miracle and Ambree just adores him.  She is constantly giving him kisses and wakes in the morning asking for 'the baby.'  If you asked me three years ago what I thought about life my sentiments were "Life is shit."  This year, however, I've come to accept that life is filled with good and bad.  Right now, things are good.  I'll always long for my precious firstborn and miss her daily.  However, we have a choice to stay in that horrific cycle of grief or to try to move on and somehow accept what we have been dealt.  Well, I owe it to my two living, precious children to be present and alive for them and to embrace the joy that they have brought me.  A joy I never thought possible to feel ever again...

All too Familiar...

     I felt compelled to blog as I have been meaning to log on for a few weeks now as I am approaching the end of my pregnancy, currently at 36 weeks pregnant.  This is the time of pregnancy that first time moms are overwhelmed with the typical fears of delivery and bringing home baby.  My fears go beyond that and my mind is constantly racing.  Sleepless nights, irrational thoughts, constant worry and deja vu to my delivery with Larissa. 
     This Thursday, we will schedule an amnio to see if our baby's lungs are mature to deliver a few weeks early being that we lost Larissa at 40 weeks gestation.  I did an amnio with Ambree, so my fears of something going wrong during the procedure are minimal.  Instead, I'm overwhelmed with the fear that something is going to happen to either the baby or me during delivery.  It will be three years on November 15th that we were forced to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' to our firstborn daughter on the day we finally got to meet her.  Now, with the temperatures getting cooler, Thanksgiving and my due date approaching, I can't help but wonder, "what will go wrong this time?"  Three years ago, I had no life in me and would have wished that I could leave this world.  This time around, I'm so fearful something is going to happen to me during delivery and that my wish will be granted and I won't be here to raise Ambree and our newborn.
     November, to me, is tainted.  It's mind boggling to me the number of birthdays celebrated this month.  In my head, it's an impossibility that any baby can be born alive during this month.  Couple losing Larissa with my trauma and superstitions of the month of November, that I am now convinced I will be taken from this world in order to bring a newborn into it.  I'm petrified.  I'm hoping its just the trauma of my experience because believe me that trauma stays with you.  For example, I'm uneasy when my husband takes Ambree out without me.  I always think something terrible is going to happen and I won't be there to protect them.  The irony of that situation is that Larissa was inside of me and I failed as her mom to protect her.  
     People keep commenting about Ambree adjusting to a newborn and Mike and I adjusting to two.  What these people fail to realize is that after a full-term loss, those 'normal' fears are not what crosses my mind.  Instead, I worry about my baby being healthy, arriving here alive and me surviving the C-section.  Flashbacks to November of 2010 keep crossing my mind: being told there's no heartbeat, my husband crying beside me, me in denial and laboring and delivering to have my precious firstborn silently enter this world.  And worst of all, cradling our baby in our arms to have less than a day with her before we had to say 'goodbye.' 
     I'll end this by saying that anyone whom has not walked in my shoes would think its crazy to think some of the thoughts I'm experiencing right down to thinking I should have a will prepared in case something were to go wrong.  However, for any of you whom are reading this because you personally have experienced my pain, you know these fears and irrational thoughts are all part of the trauma of giving birth to death.  I can only hope that these are indeed irrational fears and that my next post will be one of joy after our newborn's safe arrival. 
     

Hope...

     Hope, a four letter word that packs a powerful punch.  People often asked me how I got through the trauma of losing Larissa.  Initially, I  always believed I had no choice, but looking back, I did have a choice.  I could have succumbed to my grief, refusing to look toward the future and staying in that horrific cycle of grief and despair.  However, it was hope that gave me the courage to move on.  Hope, that one day we would have another little blessing in our lives.  Hope, that one day we would find a new normal.  Hope, that one day our house would no longer be so quiet, but rather, filled with the cries of a newborn and later the sound of pitter-patter of little feet.
     Without hope, I would have given up on the idea of becoming pregnant again and bringing home a healthy newborn.  Believe me, it was easy to lose any hope, especially since we struggled to get pregnant again and everyone around me was giving birth to perfectly healthy babies.  Once pregnancy was achieved, there was a huge part of me that felt I wouldn't really be bringing home a child, but it was hope that we would that kept me focused on a happy outcome.  So, without hope I wouldn't be sitting here typing this while my almost 18 month old sleeps by my side.  Nor would I be relishing in my expectant child's movements inside of me.  Hope is what enabled us to welcome Ambree and it is hope that enabled us to be expecting another bundle of joy.  It is that same hope that I cling to, that keeps me going during this current pregnancy, refusing to succumb to my past traumas and hoping that all will be well this time around.
     I recently received an email from a very inspiring lady, named Heather, who came upon my blog and wanted to share her story of hope.  She was diagnosed with cancer when her daughter was just 3 and a half months old and given 15 months to live.  She refused to accept those odds, knowing she had to be around to raise her daughter and held onto hope that she would survive.  Our minds are a powerful thing...Heather is 7 years post her devastating diagnoses and shares her story on the following link:
     http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather/
Her story of hope is truly inspiring.  I hope each reader takes a moment to check out her link and are inspired by her journey.
     Anyone whom has experienced a traumatic event knows that devastating news is life altering and it's easy to give up hope.  Heather mentioned in a email to me that her hope made her battle easier.  My hope made my dreams of a family come true, so no matter where you are in your journey, don't lose hope.  None of us can predict the future, but we can envision how we would like our lives to be.  Envision a brighter future and hold onto that hope, even if it's just a little bit you feel right now...

20 Week Ultrasound

As I mentioned earlier, we had our 20 week scan today.  I don't need to reiterate that with the exception of my bleed, all looks normal.  I use that term loosely because pregnancy is not normal after a full term stillbirth.  Last night, prior to my scan, I went on my good friend Google researching Trisomy 18 and 21.  I somehow feel better knowing as much as possible about potential problems rather than being completely shocked when given the devastating news.  The problem with my traumatic mind is that I can't let myself relax.  I knew our baby is alive as I am able to frequently feel him or her move, but I didn't know what they would find on the ultrasound.  So, I do research to be prepared.  Prepared for those words..."sometimes these things just happen."  I was told that with Larissa, after my miscarriage in the fall (a secret I kept very quiet, hence why I never posted about it), after my bleed, and when they thought I had an extra placental lobe during this pregnancy.  I learned today, I don't have an accessory lobe, it's just my bleed still there. 
     En route to the maternal fetal medicine, I tried to calm myself down by thinking there's nothing I can do to change any outcome.  However, that's just a coping mechanism.  Had I been given terrible news today, I wouldn't have been calm.  I would have been devastated.  I try to emotionally distance myself from any pregnancy since Larissa, but that's hard.  After all, my body is changing and my baby is wiggling.  It would be against human nature not to feel some excitement and anticipation. 
     That being said, I'm due November 29th and with an early delivery like we had with Ambree there's a possibility of delivering on or around Larissa's birthday, November 15th.  At my 8 week scan when we learned the due date, I was petrified.  Now, I calmly try to tell myself we need something happy in November and this is what we were given.  But, realistically, I keep hearing the prenatal nurses words stated to me when Larissa passed away...."You are number two.  We always have a death in November, December and January."  I can't help but think daily, am I going to become yet another November statistic?  Will the nurse hand me my informational packet they now pass out to bereaved parents at the hospital?
     Yes, 20 weeks pregnant with potentially 18-20 more to go.  I haven't calculated that down to hours and minutes but it's a lot of time for me to worry and think the worst.  This time around, when I'm thinking irrational thoughts, I admire my now 16 month old daughter, and try to believe that it is possible.  She's here and well.  We deserve it again so I need to start believing that.

Here We Go Again...

On March 22nd my husband and I found out we were expecting another bundle.  We had been trying to conceive so it didn't really come as a surprise.  However, it was a little bit of a shock when I peed on that stick and two pink lines had appeared.  I guess I hadn't been expecting it so quickly.  I'm always torn with emotion when I take a pregnancy test.  I struggled with my luteal phase defect after Larissa and had to use Clomid to become pregnant with Ambree.  Anyone whom has experienced any type of infertility at all knows its stressful peeing on that stick.  Combine my history of infertility with loss and things become even more complicated.  One pink line makes me think "Am I infertile again?"  Two pink lines is followed by maybe five minutes of elation which is quickly replaced with "Oh shit, here we go again." 
     Yes, "oh shit, here we go again."  Clearly, that is not a natural response to an upcoming pregnancy.  I would assume only a few women or a pregnant teen experiences those same sentiments.  However, pregnancy is terrifying for me.  I relish in my growing belly often becoming larger than I should or at least larger than I care to be, but for me with each gained pound I feel reassurance that my baby is okay.  Lets ignore the fact that often if 4 pounds are gained in a month, maybe one is my belly region and 3 my thighs, but I'm a trauma victim so it's expected one should gain weight when pregnant so that helps the battle of horrific thoughts racing in my mind.
    I'm currently 20 weeks pregnant.  I had my 20 week scan today and surprisingly all looked well.  However, this pregnancy has not gone uncomplicated.  At 11 weeks, I was at work (on a weekend, the Saturday before Mother's Day) and started to bleed.  I called my husband and we went to the ER.  Another problem with loss is that I hide my pregnancy as long as possible so we had to take Ambree with us to the ER since we couldn't ask anyone to watch her.  I was there from 11:30 in the morning till 6:30 in the evening, finally learning at 3pm that our baby was still with us.  I was absolutely prepared for the worst but weirdly I knew that at the time it wasn't the end of this pregnancy.  I was just able to feel it.  Believe me, it didn't stop me from crying or screaming "why me?" en route to the ER, but even through that I had a good feeling.  Turns out I have a subchorionic bleed.  It's a bleed that forms in the chorionic membrane.  I actually had two, one up high by my placenta and one down low by my cervix.  Now that I'm 20 weeks pregnant I can say that these typically cause no complications for the pregnancy.  However, I bled again at 13 weeks from the bleed lower in my cervix and my bleed higher up is still with us.  They typically reabsorb by 20 weeks, but can hang on until pregnancy.  Of course, mine is hanging on.  It's a little unnerving but I'm really trying to believe that we deserve this baby and have endured enough trauma and all will be well. 
     So, here it is for the world to read.  I'm expecting again.  Those are words I have yet to state to my co-workers, some friends and family.  Our close family just learned we were expecting a few weeks ago.  It all goes back to trauma.  Most people pee on a stick and shout it to the world.  Not a victim of full term stillbirth.  We keep silent until people are gutsy enough to ask "is that a baby bump?" 

We're Not Alone

 When Ambree was a few months old while shopping at Sam's Club a middle aged couple approached me, admiring Ambree.  I am always uneasy as strangers approach and engage in conversation centered around Ambree.  It makes me anxious as I know that infamous question "Is she your only?" will follow.  As you may already know, I vowed to always acknowledge Larissa and recognize her as a part of our family.  So, with some hesitation I told these strangers that Ambree is our second as we lost our firstborn at birth.  I only hesitate as death is an uncomfortable topic and infant death is truly taboo.

 However, this couple began to spill their hearts out to me as well noting that they have several grandchildren but that their son and daughter in-law were expecting a very special bundle.  They too, lost their firstborn as he was born prematurely and fought for his little life for in excess of thirty days.  The tears streamed down these strangers faces as they shared their story in the otherwise empty aisle of Sam's Club.  I felt their pain...truly felt their pain and unlike those whom have not walked in our shoes I didn't gape at these strangers with horror thinking "I can't even imagine." I know all too well the pain this couple has endured. 

It's an incomprehensible pain to lose a child.  Those whom have never endured such pain feel maybe in my situation its a little less painful as we never brought Larissa home.  However, she's our baby.  A lifetime of dreams and milestones for our little girl were taken away as we sadly had to say goodbye.  And I know I'm not alone.  All too often on the daily news you hear of a baby or child taken much too soon from this life in a fire and/or accident.  I watch those stories as the journalist interviews family members and all I think is "I feel your pain."  Sometimes people complain about aging and/or old age and my friend recently shared a quote with me, which basically stated to not complain about aging as it is a privilege denied to many.  That's so very true.  Larissa never even took a breath outside of the womb.  She never got to enjoy life.  Nothing...she got nothing.  And sadly, I am not alone as many of you reading this post know firsthand the pain of losing a child and we are not alone...

Hard to believe, its a year...

Our precious little daughter turns one year old already on February 21st.  We celebrated this momentous day with a special birthday party at our house.  Our home was transformed into a cupcake themed party filled with nearly forty guests including family and friends.  I began planning the party shortly after Christmas ended.  I enjoy party planning and entertaining to begin with, but this party was very special.  Most parents view their child's first birthday as a big deal but my husband and I can truly appreciate just what a big deal a birthday is.  It's a miracle any of us are even here and Ambree is truly our special little miracle. 

Our house was decked out in shades of pink, turquoise and red with touches of cupcake decorations everywhere.  Balloons, streamers, multiple types of cupcakes, cupcake table confetti, and of course a three dimensional cupcake cake made with love by my mom.  It was certainly a success and the decor and home turned out just as I had pictured.  Most importantly, Ambree truly enjoyed it.  She frequently looked up at each of the floating balloons and banners.  She smiled mischievously while eating her own little 3D cupcake smash cake.  She didn't make a mess though, as she's always been a dainty eater and enjoyed it with minimal cleanup...a mother's dream, especially with an indoor party. She helped unwrap her gifts tearing at the wrappings and tissue paper, squealing with glee at each unveiled treasure.  She enjoyed herself so much that she continued the celebration through the night refusing to nap and finally crashing at 5:30pm after her final bottle and sleeping through the night.  Let it be noted her party began at noon and she was awake at 5am that day with only a 45 minute nap prior to the celebration. 

So, the party was certainly a success.  However, like any other day (special or not) in our lives there is always a sense of sadness I feel as Ambree's older sister Larissa is not here to celebrate with us.  I long to see that little girl celebrate her milestones but I recognize I can only envision each of Larissa's milestones through the growth of her little sister.  I wondered what Larissa would have been like at her first and second birthdays.  I now have a little insight as to how a one year old acts on their birthday and next year Ambree will shed some light on how Larissa maybe would have been on her second birthday.  Again, we will never know for sure, but I see Larissa in Ambree.  Mostly when she's asleep...sometimes the similarities are so striking as my one year old rests, that I find myself shedding tears at the memories of Larissa.  This is now my way of life and as some will say "It is what it is." Which is true and all I can do is continue to honor my firstborn and savor every second with my second born.  Savor is what I do....every single second.... 

New Year, New Beginnings...

With the start of a new year, many people commit to fresh beginnings.  As usual, the gym is packed with many whom have pledged healthier beginnings and vow to lose 'x' amount of pounds.  It irritates me how crowded my gym becomes January 2nd, as I know that only a small fraction of those newbies will still be committed to their new workout regime in three to four weeks.  My gym will resume to the norm at the start of February.  I will grin and bear it for the next few weeks.

I, on the other hand, infrequently make a New Year's resolution.  It's not that I don't believe in them.  I just  feel that year after year we fail to meet the resolutions and find ourselves in subsequent years pledging the same as the year prior. 

However, I digress and will get to the real point of me taking a moment to post on this blog.  On January 1st, I was watching Good Morning America and most of the hosts of the show pledged to slow down and devote more time to their children as their New Years' resolutions, enlightened by the recent tragedy at Sandy Hook.  I was watching this morning show as my ten month old daughter lay asleep across my lap.  It struck a cord with me as I wondered to myself had I not lost Larissa, would I too be pledging the same as a resolution?  I already spend every moment possible with Ambree and even when she's fussy, crying or fighting a nap...I savor those moments.  Was it the tragic loss of Larissa that made me appreciate even the bad moments that accompanies parenthood?  Would I appreciate Ambree as much as I do had I not been forced to say goodbye to my firstborn before I said hello?  I'm assuming that the loss of Larissa most certainly did influence my patience and overwhelming love for Ambree. 

I'm not saying that parents whom have never endured a loss do not appreciate the miracle which is every child.  I recognize that being a parent is stressful and time consuming.  However, it is also the greatest gift given to any of us.  Therefore, I caution any parent who cannot imagine the incomprehensible death of their child and hope that they recognize how truly blessed they are and savor each and every second with their child.  I mean every second...the good and the bad.  In addition to forty fabulous weeks, Larissa gave me the realization that every second here on Earth is precious and limited, so enjoy it.  We all assume the tragedy of losing a child will happen to next parent not us, but we are no less special than the parent standing beside us.  None of us knows the time we have with our children and it goes against the natural progression of life to bury any of your children.  Sadly, though, I am not alone.  Their are many other mothers and fathers who walk in my shoes, with a large hole in their hearts longing for the child no longer here.  So, on a final note, don't wait for another tragedy to cherish your children.  Cherish them always. 

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. 

Bah, humbug

Well, here it is...the eve of Christmas Eve.  Prior to Larissa's death I never understood why so many people dislike the holiday season.  However, I must admit that even though I am not as raw with pain as last year I still find it challenging to get into the spirit of the season.  Granted, I know that many people dislike the season because of the hustle and bustle and stress of decorating, baking, shopping and wrapping.  I wish that is why I disliked this time of year.  I want to shout at those stressed out parents and enlighten them all to how very fortunate they are to have live children to cause them stress.  My dislike goes much deeper than that.  Every time I visit the mall or local retailer, I am reminded of this time last year wandering through every store in our local mall that sold infant girls' clothing in search of the perfect outfit for Larissa to wear when laid to rest.  I have not frequented any of those stores that exclusively sell baby's clothing since this same time last year.  The stores that house other departments than the infant and toddler clothing section, I visit once again, but avoid the baby department like the plague.  I wonder to myself when I am with a family member who is in search of something in that department, if they notice how I strategically disappear wandering into the housewares or jewelry department while they obtain what they need.  It's necessary for me to do that so that I do not break down in tears at what should have been.  I look at every parent with envy when I pass they baby's clothing department as they scour the racks for outfits for each of their multiple live children.  Yes, multiple...that is mind boggling to me.  The idea of one live child seems an impossible feat, let alone these parents that have so many they cannot even keep track.  I caution each of those parents to cherish the time they have with each of their children as none of us knows what tomorrow brings.  Yes, we all think it will never happen to us...but ask anyone whom has endured a tragedy and they will tell you they too, once felt that way.  It is human nature...bad things happen to others, not me...but the reality is that these tragedies happen all too often and all the time to people just like myself. 

Memories...I recall going through the motions of the holiday season passing out already wrapped gifts that were purchased before Larissa's birth.  After all, I was going to be too busy to shop and wrap.  This time last year I wasn't busy at all...I literally slept my days away, wishing that my life would end.  Sleep was my only escape, but the downside to that were the panic attacks that endured after I awoke with the harsh reality of my so called life slapping me in the face all over again.  So, yes, Christmas takes on a whole new meaning for me.  I will forever be sad with the jingle of every holiday tune, glistening Christmas lights and little girls in their beautiful Christmas dresses.  Little girls' Christmas dresses...yet another reason why I avoid the baby's clothing department.  

So, I need to brace myself and get through the next two days.  I will certainly survive, especially if I survived 2010.  However, I imagine not without shedding many more tears.  I will cry when I put just my husband's presents under the Christmas tree as I know it should be much more crowded with gifts for our precious daughter.  I cried when I hung just two stockings this year.  Hadn't I been pregnant for nine months and shouldn't this be the second year I hang a stocking for Larissa?  It should be but it isn't.  It will never be.  Even if my husband and I have one, two or three more live children our family will always be minus one.  People forget that.  They think that because I am pregnant again, all is well, but I know all too well that being pregnant does not guarantee bringing home a live child.  

My current pregnancy brought back flashbacks of this time last year as well.  Today, I ventured out in the morning in search of some new maternity clothes as I am getting too large for many that I already own.  When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I was reminded of last year and how irritated I was that I had to get dressed for the holidays with my post pregnancy body.  Maternity clothes no longer fit me and yet I didn't fit into my normal clothes yet.  I get so frustrated when I hear moms of live children complain about their post pregnancy bodies.  Again, I caution these parents to watch what they say.  They have the prize at the end of the 40 weeks.  I was given a saggy stomach and larger than normal thighs with no infant to carry around as evidence of my larger than normal body.  I just looked fat....and no, I was not blessed with the luxury of nursing a newborn to watch my pregnancy weight melt off.  I had to do it the hard way....many hours at the gym running at my fastest pace ever in order to get back into my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans.  I worry about my weight gain again with this pregnancy, but not because I am worried I won't lose it, but I am so scared I gained all this weight and watched my body transform for just forty short weeks with our little one.  I want and I deserve a lifetime with this child.  

I pray that I find the strength to get through yet another Christmas holiday without Larissa and that any newly bereaved parent finds the strength to face each day.  I hope that 2012 is a better year for my husband and me and that we are too busy with an infant this time next year to focus on my sadness.  

Hope and Fear...

We had our 28 week ultrasound this past Friday.  Of course, I was a nervous wreck with the anticipation of the ultrasound, being that with our pregnancy with Larissa we had three ultrasounds in total.  Now that we are considered high risk, it is standard procedure to have growth ultrasounds beginning at 28 weeks.  My mind was racing for days prior to the scan with fear and anxiety of potential things that could have gone wrong in the two month time span since our previous ultrasound.  I relied on my good friend Google to research what exactly the doctor would be looking for during this scan.  Because as many of you know, pregnancy after a loss is different.  Ultrasound scans are no longer a time of excitedly guessing our baby's gender and/or admiring our little one's features with visions of the future.  Pregnancy after full-term stillbirth entails no planning.  I cannot even pack a diaper bag.  Whatever remains in our diaper bag from when it was packed in anticipation of Larissa's arrival is what will be accompanying us to the hospital upon time of delivery.  I am envious of the moms-to-be that anxiously await each ultrasound and even request ultrasounds just to get a look at their little one before his or her arrival.  Any appointment with this pregnancy is filled with anxiety and fear, but at this point in the game, ultrasounds seem to provoke the most anxiety. 

With that being said, our 28 week ultrasound proved to be the first time during this pregnancy that I really let my guard down and felt hope and even for the slightest moment visions of our future with this new little being.  The ultrasound technician was extremely upbeat and her excitement was contagious.  She enabled me to feel like a mom whom hadn't endured such a tragic loss...one whom was just filled with hope and anticipation of their child's arrival...just like my former naive self.  

It was hard not to feel some excitement being that portions of the ultrasound were done in 4D.  We were never afforded the opportunity of these scans with Larissa and they are absolutely amazing.  Our little one resembles Larissa, having been blessed (or not so blessed) with my nose.  He or she kept blocking her face with his or her arms, making it challenging for us to get a view.  My husband and I laugh that they are our baby's paparazzi shots, trying to block the view being that he or she is frustrated with my constant poking and prodding of my belly.  But, determined we were, and we have many photos of our precious baby wiggling inside of me.  Pregnancy is amazing and even after a loss, one cannot help but get excited.  After all, I am this child's lifeline and it is my nutrition enabling this child to thrive...we are one and I hope that in a few months our child can thrive without my blood supply and that we are leaving the hospital with a healthy newborn. 

Grief Knows No Time Line

The holiday season: a time of year filled with hustle and bustle, parties, decorating, baking, gift exchange and a time of great joy.  Yes, it should be a time of great joy and happiness but I know all too well that grief knows no time line.  Grief, sadness and loss do not stop for any holiday or otherwise joyous day.  I wander through the mall this year looking for Christmas gifts and trying to ignore the happy holiday tunes blasting in the background.  I purchase each gift with the recipient in mind trying to bring a smile to each of their faces.  Meanwhile, I wipe a tear from my eye each time I visit the mall and see the line of infants and small children waiting to sit on Santa's lap.  I put my blinders on as I pass the infants' departments in the mall and see the glistening Christmas dresses that Larissa will never wear.  I cannot help but wonder how many of the people I pass are longing for a loved one whom is battling a serious illness and/or has recently or not so recently passed away.  Christmas should be a time of great joy, but it is for many people a time of great sadness.  Every year on Christmas I think of each person celebrating alone on this alleged joyous day and of each person confined to a hospital, nursing home and/or other unpleasant institution. 

Last year at this time, I have very few memories of the holiday season.  It was supposed to be a time when my husband and I would be busy with our newborn daughter, whose arrival was scheduled just before Thanksgiving.  Again, grief and loss know no time line.  They strike one at the most inopportune times.  Too many people in this world sit beside their loved ones holding their hand as they take their last breath during this holiday season.  The holidays are forever changed for me as I will always be reminded of our tragic loss.  I engage myself this year in decorating, baking and shopping as I find keeping myself busy keeps my mind occupied and enables me to focus on some positives in life.  After all, I do love a decorated home and this year I look at our decorated Christmas tree with two ornaments in memory of our daughter.  I don't need these visual reminders to think of Larissa, as she is on my mind daily, but it is our way of including her in the holiday season each year.  However, our house has hidden items of what should have been everywhere I turn.  I opened the closet to get out wrapping paper the other day and my heart stopped briefly as I saw Larissa's Baby Bjorn and play mat tucked away in the corner.   Every instance where a tucked away baby item is revealed in our house, I am hit with such sadness and grief and reminders of this time last year and the reality of losing Larissa.  I am also reminded of each newly bereaved parent in our shoes this year.  I know we are not the first parents to lose and a child and unfortunately are not the last.  Many newly bereaved parents are battling this holiday season with ache in their hearts for their missing precious child.

For any newly bereaved parent whom has found my site in hopes of finding someone whom has walked down that dark path of grief, I offer you this....

It is just a little over one year since we said 'hello' and 'goodbye' to our precious daughter all in the same day.  It has been a long, awful year of sadness and extreme pain and trying to find a new 'normal.' I hope that each newly bereaved parent reading this post finds the strength to get through each day and finds some joy and happiness in their lives again.  It is true that grief and sadness know no time line and that life must go on.  I am proof that it does indeed go on and you have no choice but to go with it.  Here I am, one  year after our loss, and as I decorated our tree this year with 'Our Happy Life Together' ornaments I am reminded of a few positives this year.  I hung the  ornament shaped like a fish which symbolizes blessings...and yes this year I feel blessed.   We are blessed for the forty weeks I had with Larissa and blessed with the life growing inside of me once again.  I also reflected on my life in this past year when I hung the two ornaments from the kit that symbolize true love and happiness.  This year I am grateful for the true love Larissa taught both myself and her father and I am grateful for feeling moments of happiness once again.  One year ago today, the thought of smiling and experiencing joy ever again was incomprehensible.  However, there are things that bring me happiness: memories of my pregnancy with Larissa, my supportive husband, family and friends, and the movement of our new addition to our family fluttering inside my belly. 

Time won't heal your pain, but you will become more accustomed to carrying around with you the weight of your loss.  I hope that each of you finds joy and happiness in your lives again.