Thursday, December 11, 2008

Checking In

It's all just surreal. This time last week I was pregnant. Filled with babies. Now I am not.

Instead of hanging the holiday cards as we receive them, I first have to sift them from the sympathies. Two distinct piles are forming on the table.


At this point, I think we have told everyone who knew we were expecting. The telling is finally starting to help, rather than hurt.

Thank you all so much for your comments, your cards, your emails, your calls. You may not hear from us for a while. Please know we have read and listened to every single word. And that helps too. We are absolutely overwhelmed by the love and support that surrounds us. In a good way.

Thank you.

I feel like hubby has me on a bit of a suicide watch, trying to coordinate with family, friends and co-workers to be with me when he needs to go to work. I feel as if I should hang a big sign on my front door and one around my neck saying, "I PROMISE I WILL NOT OFF MYSELF." I promise. I love my husband and my life too too dearly to even think of such a thing. My visitors must have given good reports of me yesterday. I was able to be myself today with minimal objection.

We will be sending out birth announcements. Please don't be freaked out. It just seems only fair and right. The issue now is making due with the few fuzzy photos we have of the girls.

What irony. In the home of a thousand cameras, we didn't have one when we needed it most. Who knew that quick trip to the hospital would turn into days? Would turn into this? A low res camera from one of the nurses (thank you, thank you, thank you) and our cell phones hold the only images we will ever have of I. and J. Sometimes I look at our collection of canons and casios and want to smash them. Every single one. But it's ok. We will make do.

Of course the lovely (non-returnable) bedding arrived and of course there was an issue of parenting magazine waiting for me in the mailbox today. It's ok. In fact, it all feels so detached. So foreign. After holding both girls in my hands, I cannot even comprehend them growing to be so big. The bedding will be put away for next time. The subscription will be canceled. We will get through this. We will.

I am still on bereavement leave and I am not really sure how long I will extend it. How can I walk back into the office where this time last week I was propping my feet and feeling my belly? I have months of saved sick and vacation time which I actually need to use before the end of this fiscal year. But at what point do I become my worst enemy? I am trying to figure that out now.

In a week filled with decisions, I have made one non-medical one. I am going in search of my birth parents. I am not waiting or contemplating any longer. The void and emptiness of not knowing has been dug even wider and deeper with the loss of the girls. Like an open sore. I need to find something to help fill my heart.


Ryan's Mommy said...

I am so sorry. You WILL be ok, of course you will. I just wish like crazy that you didn't have to go through hell to get to that point.

Mo said...

There are no words at a time like this.

Your strength and clarity are remarkable. Thank you for taking a moment to check in. Please know that there are many of us out here - those who you have met in real life and (like me) those who haven't - we are all pulling for you and sending fervent thoughts and symptathies your way.


Anonymous said...

I hate this. Every bit of this. It is killing me to know that you don't have your girls anymore. I am so so sorry.

Shannon B said...

I am so incredibly sorry for your losses. I just found your journal through the 2007 Creme de la creme list. Having recently experienced a pregnancy loss I was looking for something... I don't quite know what.
I am wishing lots of strength for you and your husband. I am just so sorry.

Amy said...

My heart just breaks for you. Tears are streaming down my face as I write this, and I cannot imagine what you are going through. We're here for you...whenever you want us.

Lollipop Goldstein said...

I hope you find your birth parents. Easily. And that you get what you need.

I think it is beautiful to send out the announcement. We still have up Zoe and Lennox's announcement on the board in our kitchen. People should remember with you--and their lives should be celebrated. Everyone deserves that.

I am here--just a short drive away--if you need me. If you want to get away from home for a day. We will all be together on Sunday. I know, too soon. But still, we miss you and all of us down here are holding you in our hearts right now.

Anonymous said...

Take all the time you need to grieve and heal. The pain will come in waves; and everything you feel is completely normal.
Hang in there.
One breath, one step at a time. That's all you can (and should) do right now.

Skerry said...

I'm glad you checked in, selfish of me, but you have been in my thoughts since your last post. Hold tight to the memories and photos of your time with your beautiful girls. You and hubby are in my prayers.

Waiting Amy said...

Oh m, I am so incredibly sorry. I just found out after your comment on Mel's mourning post. So strange, I haven't been able to keep up with as many old friends lately, and yet today stumbled across your news. As Mel said in her post, I can't explain it but I am just so saddened in particular for you and your husband. The little I know you it seems this is so unfair, you don't deserve this (certainly no one does). Oh, I'm at a loss for the right words.

Wishing you peace.

Julia said...

Your strength is an inspiration. May you have peace in your heart.

Dagny said...

I am so very sorry. :(

NO words, just sorrow for you both.


Anonymous said...

I am so so sorry. I've been following your story through your blog and my sister for so long. This was just crushing news to hear. Please know we're thinking of you and your girls and I wish I could physically ball up some strength and hope and send it to you in the mail. Thanks for keeping us all informed, and hugs to you and M.

Sue said...

I'm so heartbroken for you over the loss of your girls. I wish you much luck in the search for your birth parents and hope you are able to find what you need.

Somewhat Ordinary said...

Just wanted to say that I'm thinking of you and your girls.

annacyclopedia said...

Still no words, but I'm here, listening and abiding with you. And keeping you in my prayers, for peace and healing in your own time.

wifethereof said...

Words cannot express how awful this lost is. Please know from the bottom of my heart how sorry I am. I starting crying so hard. I hate how life is so awful and unfair at times. One day you are trying to pick furniture and then when I check back, this. How quickly life does a 180. You and your husband are in my thoughts and prayers.
If you ever want my experience of searching for birth parents, feel free to ask.
Wifethereof (kristine)

MLO said...

I am so sorry. My DH was the same way when we lost our baby (19 weeks). It is awful. I was just lucky that m/c runs in my family so that, on my side, they told me the truth. The pain never really goes away, it just fades to a dull ache.

I wish you didn't have to experience or feel this.

Lori Lavender Luz said...

Hi, M. I'm sending you lots of love and strength.

I know of someone who helps find birthparents. If you'd like that info, let me know.

Big, big hugs.

(And I think the announcement is a good idea to honor and remember.)

Anonymous said...

I came over from No Swimmers blog to tell you that are my people and that I am so sorry. I lost my twin boys in March and April. I'm here if you need to talk. It's hard to vocalize this loss to people who haven't been there. Please reach out to the people who have been. There will be a period of time when you think you are losing your mind. You aren't but it will feel like it. There will be a period of time when you think you are going to die. Not the "I want to kill myself" feeling but the "I hurt so bad that I think I just might die from this." You won't, I promise. It's been 8 months and I still miss my boys. We are here for you.

loribeth said...

Oh, I so relate to the lack of a camera. I've always been tagged as the "family photographer" & yet when the time came to go to the hospital to deliver my stillborn daughter, I just couldn't bring myself to pack a camera (even though the social worker I spoke with suggested it). It just seemed so morbid. The nurses took six Polaroids for us. They are absolutely lousy yet they are my most precious possessions, because they are evidence that I had a daughter & I am a mother.

I would love to see your birth announcement, if you feel like sharing it here.


Anonymous said...

i am so utterly sorry to hear about your loss. i don't know what else to say except that i'll be thinking of you and m and sending warmth and support your way.