Grief + Things I'm Grateful For + The Babies Have Taken the Pain Away

Note: This post is written as part of PAIL Bloggers September Monthly Theme Post. You can check out PAIL here.

I don't talk about the whole infertility thing much anymore, but I have been turning these questions over in my mind for the past few day. In relation to infertility--what did you lose? What do you grieve?

My experience in a nutshell:

• Tried to have a baby in the late 1990s and wasn't able to, but never went to the doctor
• Then, spent the past 5 years to get where we are today, with 2 surgeries, 5 IVFs, 2 early miscarriages, 1 late miscarriage, and finally, finally our perfect and magical six-month-old twins

The babies we lost, especially the late miscarriage--obviously, very hard.

But the other stuff--things I grieve--is more subtle:

• I wish I'd been a young (even very young) mother
• I wish I could have spaced my kids out more
• I wish I hadn't listened to the feminist rhetoric that said put marriage and kids last, your education and job first
• I wish I'd married the right man the first time around...I wasted so much time with that whole disaster
• I wish I hadn't had to work all those hours to pay for fertility treatments (I freelance, and in order to pay for everything we did I worked insane amounts of hours for months at a time)
• Etc.

But with all this, I keep thinking of everything I'm grateful for, too, because for each of these there is a flip side:

• I'm grateful for the fact that I know my marriage can withstand difficult losses and tons and tons of pain
• I'm grateful to be older and mellower--I know I make a better mother at this age than I would have at 20 or even 30
• I don't really mind having my kids close in age...we have the baby twins right now, and are hoping I can get pregnant with one more next year. It's going to be crazy, but so amazing..a great and chaotic adventure
• I'm grateful to have a good, solid, well-paying job--something I probably wouldn't have if I hadn't been so career focused for so many years
• I'm grateful that the traumas I've gone through, like what happened with my first marriage...they have made me a kinder, less selfish person
• I'm so grateful I was able to work all the hours I did, was able to pay for the treatments we needed. A lot of people don't have that option

And also, these things I grieve, I don't really feel the pain of it day-to-day.

A friend of mine who had gone through IVF before me, when I was in the thick of things, she told me that once I have a baby I'll forget all about the pain of it all. When she told me this, I didn't believe her. I'd been sad for so long and, although I didn't know it, there was still a lot more to come. I didn't see how anything could take all that pain away.

Nine whole years I was sad, I can tell you the first day, spring 2003, the azaleas blooming in Portland when my boyfriend--my first serious relationship since my marriage had ended--broke up with me. I was living in San Francisco at the time, he in Oregon, and I remember thinking as he drove me to the airport, "This is the end of me being happy." Little did I know how true that was--it wouldn't be true forever, but for a long, long time.

That was the worst breakup ever.

And then my brother dying.

And having to leave California and the life I'd lived with him (my brother), because it was too painful to stay.

And then all the infertility-related things my husband and I endured...five whole years, that's such a long time...

I'd been sad for so, so, so long...I mean, even the name of my blog is about trying not to be sad. I just can't do it anymore. With the babies, I don't have to do it anymore.

So are there things I grieve and regret? Absolutely. But there is also a lot I'm grateful for, and those feelings of grief aren't part of my everyday life.

I am so incredibly happy right now.

My friend was absolutely right--the babies, they help to wipe out the pain*.

*Except for the pain I feel in relation to what happened to my brother. That pain's still electrically raw, when I think of it. I just have to try not to think of it.

XOXO

Little Girl, Part 2

Meant to include this with yesterday's post but forgot. Love this poem. Today making me think of my extraordinary parents, who were so there for us when we needed them.

XO

Eggs

We turn out

as tippy as

eggs. Legs

are an illusion.

We are held

as in a carton

if someone

loves us.

It's a pity

only loss

proves this.

--Kay Ryan, The New Yorker, August 6, 2012

Little Girl

Hi Everyone! Happy Monday! :)

So, over the weekend, I went with my parents to the Compassionate Friends summer potluck. The Compassionate Friends are for parents who have lost a child, and they make siblings feel welcome, too.

After the dinner, we went down to the airstrip. (Actually, I should have started this post by saying this was held at Alice's, who has this amazing piece of land up above the Colorado National Monument. There's an airstrip (her husband flew planes) and the most beautiful little log chapel, which is where my husband and I got married.)

Anyway, down to the airstrip, and they had balloons, and you could write messages and place them on the balloons and once everyone was ready, you let go and sent them up to Heaven.

I picked out a purple one for my brother. And felt a little sad, but it was OK.

And then almost all the balloons were taken, and there were a few left and I don't know why but I went back and asked if I could have a pink one. For the baby girl we lost to a miscarriage. And I shed some tears for her, holding her pink balloon, which I never do. When it happened, I made myself get over losing her so fast...all I could do to get through it was to focus on the next thing, the next procedure, and that maybe that would bring us a baby. (And it did.) But the sadness is there, buried deep inside.

I tied her balloon to Luke's (my brother's), and sent them up to Heaven together. 

Because I know he's up there looking out for her. 

XOXO

Naming a Son After a Brother Who Died Young: Some Thoughts

Interesting article in the New York Times a few days ago, entitled Naming a Son After a Brother Who Died Young, by Linda K. Wertheimer. In it, she talks about her reasons for NOT doing this, which seem to boil down to the pain it would cause her and her family, and the undue burden it would place on her son.

As some of you know, I have experience with this as well. My brother Luke died in an accident at 27, seven years ago now. We were living together at the time, and his death was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with. 

I'd thought about if I were to have a boy I might want to name him Luke, but I always assumed that my husband wouldn't want to. He never knew my brother (I met my husband a few months after my brother's death), and it's been hard for him, how sad I've been for so, so long about what I for years saw as not only the end of my brother's life, but the end of my life, too.

When we started talking about names for the twins, though, it was my husband who said, "Let's name our son Luke." I was so excited to do so, and feel like that encouragement to use my brother's name was such a gift from my husband.

I did have a few reservations, though, some along the same lines of those held by the woman who wrote this article. Would it make me sad to say my brother's name all the time? Would it be too big a burden to place on my child? Would we have expectations that my son would be like my brother?

My son Luke is just four-and-a-half months old, but the experience so far has been very positive. It's not painful to say his name; on the contrary, the name "Luke" is no longer tinged with such sadness...it's easier than ever to say it, hear it, see it written, and I like that my brother Luke is living on in some small way. It's like he's more a part of our world than he has been in a long time, and that makes me very happy.

And while I still think of my brother, it doesn't happen every time I use or hear my son's name. My parents are now in the habit of saying "Our Luke" and "Your Luke" when there needs to be clarification of who we're talking about; I think we all see them as two very separate people, their name being a sweet and loving connection.

I understand making the decision not to use a brother's name. But for us, it's worked. I'm so glad we did it.

XOXO

Joy + Fear

..."a crude blending of idiotic irrational joy and fevered fear of living in a world of harm."

--W.S. Di Piero, in Poetry Magazine, June 2012

This is what being a mama is all about, isn't it?

Or is it just me?

XO

A Psychic, a Birthmark, and Some Thoughts on Reincarnation

Hi Everyone! Happy Tuesday!

I'm getting all hippie and "new agey" around here today...be forewarned...

So my mom went to see a psychic a few years ago, in relation to my brother/her son's death. Recently, she told me about it, and let me listen to a recording of the session. Lots of really interesting things in there, including something really remarkable about my children that I want to share.

The psychic was talking as though my brother were communicating with her, and she said there was a little girl with him, a real chatterbox, and that that little girl would come into our lives. And it's easy to think that that little girl was Zoey, because, no question, she is our chatterbox.

But here's the cool part. The psychic said several times throughout the session that my brother kept pointing to his left leg...she kept asking my mom did he have a scar or tattoo there? Or did Kristen? (They talked about me quite a bit in the session.) My mom said no, but it kept coming up. 

Well, Zoey has a very prominent birthmark on her left leg. And I know it could just be coincidence, but I get goose bumps thinking about it.

On a related note, I wrote before about the possibility that my brother could be reincarnated into one of my children, and I thought before they were born that it would be very clear to me if that happened. The reality...you know, some days I think maybe my son Luke is my brother's soul or whatever you want to call it reincarnated. I like to think of him and Zoey together, like the psychic was saying, and then coming down to be with me. It's like Luke (my son) brought a friend with him, to travel through life with him, and that makes me smile.

But other times, I'm not so sure...I feel like my brother is watching over all of us, and will be there for me when I die, neither of which can really be the case if he's been reincarnated, right? Also, my son is so very mellow and laid back...whereas "intense" is the word I would use to describe my brother. There was nothing mellow about him.

Either way, it doesn't really matter. I will always see and treat my son as his own individual and unique person.

Who knows if there's any validity to all this, anyway. It just gives me comfort to think that there might be...

Hope everyone's having a lovely week.

XOXO

The Dreaded Anniversary

Last Sunday was the anniversary of my brother Luke's death.

A motorcycle accident, a Friday evening, him coming home (we had lived together in a house overlooking the ocean in Santa Barbara, CA) for a BBQ we were having with friends. Later that night, we were all going down to see his band's gig in Ventura. Instead, everyone ended up at the hospital, and then back at our house, taking turns sitting next to me, holding my hands.

Seven years.

How can it be that long? That whole life--living by the ocean, surfing every day, young, and I don't know if I can say happy...we all had our struggles...but we were all together, Luke and I and our friends. Hard not to look back and see such an idyllic picture, and in many, many ways, it truly was.

Seven years.

It shouldn't hurt so much now, should it?

The truth is, it hurts less often. I don't think about it 24/7 anymore. But when I let myself think...it's like it's happening now, all over again. That horrible, horrible nightmare.

The anniversary is one time when it's hard not to let myself think. This year, actually, the worst day was a few days before. The anticipation always kills me. That's when all the tears were shed, when I felt...I mean, how can I go on? It's probably such a long, long time until I die, until there is any kind of peace with all this.

And then...there are babies. For the first time. The happy ending to another trauma, right on the heels of losing my brother: the whole five years of a mess that was us trying to have a baby.

The twins help ease the pain, no question. But in that they add some things to the "good things that have happened to me" column, help to balance life out, so it doesn't look so much like it's just sorrow after sorrow after sorrow. They help. But they don't take away the pain. Or replace the huge hole in my heart.

Still. Before it happened, I was trying to think what I wanted to do on that day (the anniversary), what would make me feel better. And all I wanted was to hold those babies.

XOXO

Postpartum Anxiety

One of the things I was fearful of while I was pregnant was postpartum depression. Thankfully, I haven't had to contend with that. But what's taken me by surprise is some pretty serious anxiety, and also (and maybe this is the same thing, I don't know) how I don't seem to be able to stop playing horrible scenarios over and over in my mind.

It started right away, a few hours after the babies were born, laying in the hospital room just thinking, "I don't know how I'd survive if something ever happened to these children."

Now that I'm home, I worry about SIDS. A lot. I worry about tripping and falling down the stairs with one of the kids in my arms and them being irreversibly harmed. I worry about the babies being kidnapped by people who would do horrible things to them. 

And then I think about all the awful things...stories I've heard of things done to babies, especially in war time, the Holocaust, stories I won't repeat here because I don't want them to get into anyone else's head.

I don't know if all of this is a hormonal thing related to postpartum, or something else. It's worse this week, and a) I got my period (not even 6 weeks after delivery...which Dr. Google says is rare but not unheard of), which always makes me crazy emotionally, and b) the anniversary of my brother's death is this weekend, and I try to pretend it's not happening, but my body and mind know and I always have a really hard time with things this time of year. Oh and that's the other thing...I keep replaying and replaying calling my parents to tell them their son is dead...God, what an awful memory, and it hurts even more now that I have kids of my own.

I keep thinking about losing one or both of my children and how I would cope, how I would survive it when the reality is that this is not something I need to be thinking about and dealing with unless it happens...there's no benefit in "rehearsing" in my mind how it would be.

I didn't expect all this...was not prepared for it. And I'm not sure what to do about it. My husband says I always go to the dark place, and it's true, and I need to stop...just not sure how to do that. 

Hoping after the anniversary of my brother's death all this will ease somewhat. It's so weird because I'm so happy. I'm just so fearful of the universe taking everything away...

XOXO

Henry James Says: "Feel"

Hi Everyone! Happy Thursday!

So I'm reading a book right now called Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi, and something I read last night has really stuck with me, mostly because I am always being accused of feeling too much, of being overly emotional about everything, taking on everyone's pain as my own. (My husband calls this personality trait "being fuzzy"...his nickname for me is "fuzz.")

I'm not very accepting of this (being so emotional and feeling everything so deeply), and the people closest to me aren't really generally very happy about it, either. I am a lot of times trying to fight it, but sometimes I think fighting it is wrong and what I REALLY need to be doing is accepting myself the way I am.

That's why it was so nice to read this passage in the book last night. The author (Nafisi) is quoting from a letter Henry James wrote to a friend whose husband had been killed in WWI. James says:

"I am incapable of telling you not to repine and rebel, because I have so, to my cost, the imagination of all things, and because I am incapable of telling you not to feel. Feel, feel, I say--feel for all you're worth, even if it half kills you, for that is the only way to live, especially to live at this terrible pressure, and the only way to honour and celebrate these admirable beings who are our pride and inspiration."

Nafisi adds: "In letters to friends, again and again he [James] urges them to feel. Feeling would stir up empathy and would remind them that life was worth living."

In other words, it's OK to be fuzzy. I'm not feeling bad about being fuzzy today...

XOXO

Update on 2012-02-03 04:53 by Buttercup

BTW, going to Denver early in the morning, so won't be posting again until Monday. Hope everyone has a great weekend! And congrats to all the newly born babies and confirmed pregnancies out there...there are a lot this week...so very happy for all of you!!!

XOXO

Reincarnation

Hi Everyone! Happy Friday!

So I'm going to get a little weird and "new-agey" on you today...back to regularly scheduled programming next week, I promise...

I know this woman who lost her firstborn, a full-term baby, at birth, and then went on to have another healthy baby. We talked one day about reincarnation, about how she, during her second pregnancy, wondered if the baby she lost would come back to her as the new baby. She told me it was something she thought about a lot, and was open to the possibility of it happening. And then she had the new baby. And she knew right away that it wasn't the same soul or whatever you want to call it...that this new baby had no connection to the first.

This is something I've been thinking about, mostly in relation to my brother who died.

Someone claiming psychic abilities told me once years ago that he (my brother) would come back to me as my child, that he would once again take care of me. (Part of why it was so hard to lose my brother was that when he died we were living together and were each other's major support system...it's been awful having that gone from my life.)

So there is the question: Will one of these babies be my brother reincarnated? Or, for that matter, the baby girl we lost last spring? I don't need it to be, and I certainly don't expect it, but I do think it's a possibility. 

And based on what my friend who lost her baby said, I think I'll know...

I feel so weird talking about this...but it's been on my mind, so...

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. Thanks for spending some time here this week. :)

XOXO

2011: A Look Back

Hi Everyone! Happy Friday!

Hope you all have great New Year's Eve plans! We're laying low, which is fine. Unless we're traveling, I'm not a huge one for New Year's Eve, pregnant or not.

Like most everyone else, the end of the year is always kind of a reflective time for me. Thought I'd share some of what I've been thinking about:

January

We took a belated three-week honeymoon to Europe the end of 2010/beginning of 2011...spent New Year's in Prague (amazing...would do it again in a heartbeat) and the first few days of the year in Venice:

As soon as we got home, we got word that my husband's dad was very sick...we went straight to Las Vegas to be with him, and he died a week later. So hard, but I'm so glad we got that time together.

And then, straight to Denver for IVF #4.

February

The transfer for IVF #4 happened in February...AND we got a BPF! A good solid one, too...all my previous ones had been iffy and ended up being chemical pregnancies. We were so excited!

Didn't feel too bad for the first few weeks, and did some nice easy walks in the Colorado National Monument, which is super close to our house:

March

I was sick, sick, sick with the pregnancy.

We went to Vegas again to see and help my husband's mom. 

Spring started to arrive:

April

We lost our baby, a girl, at 11 weeks 5 days...so close to being out of the first trimester and "safe." It was devastating, but my husband and I were so sweet and loving and supportive of each other. We lay on the couch in the evenings and drank wine and talked and cried. And then when we couldn't cry anymore we watched episodes of "Wipeout" which is the most ridiculous TV show ever...have never watched before or since but somehow the stupidness and silliness was what we needed.

Family and friends were wonderful, too.

And got back to being active, with one quick weekend snowboarding trip with my brother (we took his snowmobiles out into the backcountry...he'd run me up a hill and I'd snowboard down). So fun even though the snow sucked as it was so late in the season.

I also started hiking, including an incredible day trip to Moab with my mom and dad.

One of the places I went a lot in those first few weeks after the miscarriage was Holy Cross trail. When I first moved to the area, I'd stumbled on this cross. Didn't learn until years later that I knew the woman who'd brought it into being, and it was for her lost child:

May

Tried to get my body ready for an FET...the D&C wasn't complete...another trip to Denver and our clinic was needed.

Worked hard to recover physically and emotionally from the miscarriage.

Life went on as normal for the cows across the street from my parents:

June

An absolutely lovely hiking trip with my Dad in Utah. We take a trip together every year...it is just the best:

And more "finishing the miscarriage" shenanigans and another trip to our Denver clinic.

And the start of our summer vacation, driving to the West coast to camp and hang out with tons of friends...so fun and exactly what we needed.

July

Summer vacation continued...from the start: Highway 50 through Nevada on the way out, California, Oregon, Washington, Vancouver, Salt Lake City on the way home. It was lovely. Here's my husband and I at a BBQ with my BFF, Lake Washington, Seattle:

We also went to Santa Barbara for a long weekend to attend a gorgeous wedding, and again got to spend time with lots of freinds...so wonderful.

And...back to Denver for the FET...stayed with my brother which is always great...had my birthday 2 days before the transfer, and on the last day of the month...another BFP! Yay!

August

Did a short camping trip with my brother, but for the most part sick, sick, sick. 

Learned we had twins!

My mother's organic garden was going crazy...

September

Camped again, this time with my whole family:

Still sick, but all was going well.

October

A fun trip to Denver to celebrate our anniversary.

Other than that, laying low with the pregnancy.

The first snow up in the mountains was so pretty (this is at my brother's house, where he and I and my brother who died grew up):

November 

Went with my husband to Mobile, AL and gulf coast Mississippi to check out a potential job. We celebrated his birthday while we were there...so fun, although traveling wasn't all that easy...

And later in the month, Thanksgiving at our house with lots of people. My husband and his mom did all the cooking! :)

December

Holidays at my brother's up in the Colorado mountains. Here's our boxer Newton playing in the snow:

My pregnancy at 25 weeks is still going strong! :)

So, all in all, a heartbreaking year with the loss of my father-in-law and our unborn baby. A year consumed with doctor visits. Lots and lots of travel (which probably won't happen again for some time). Lots of time with freinds and family. And the most joyous year ever, in that we are so close to bringing home two real, live babies--something I wasn't sure would ever happen for me.

A roller coaster year.

Praying that everything--two healthy babies, graduation for my husband and hopefully a good job offer, a possible move to we're not sure where--will go our way in 2012, which should be a year filled with happiness, but will also probably contain a number of huge transitions.

Happy New Year to you all! Blogging has brought me such joy this year--and your presence has been central to that. Thank you for being here, and looking forward to sharing all that will be 2012.

XOXO

Kristen

Babies & Grief

I don't necessarily think I've had it worse than anyone else...we all have our crosses to bear...but a lot a lot a lot of crappy stuff has happened over the past 10 years--from the relatively minor like a divorce, and the worst breakup of my life, my dog dying, not being able to get pregnant; to the stuff I wasn't sure I'd be able to survive, like my brother (who was my absolute best friend in the world) being killed, leaving California and a life I loved (directly related), the whole IVF roller coaster, chemical pregnancies, a late miscarriage...I have been through a lot.

I always see these things as like rocks, and each time something new happens another rock, big or small, gets put on top of me and I have this very real feeling that someday there are going to be too many rocks and I am going to drown. This is something I worry about, more than I should. My parents, especially...they're realtively young and healthy and there's no reason to think they are going to die anytime soon, but they will probably die before me and that thought totally freaks me out. I don't see it as the natural order of life...I see it as something that may be the last straw...the last rock that makes it so I can no longer survive. To some extent I'm being melodramatic...I mean, what do you do when bad things happen, except pick up the pieces and keep going? Still, the fear is there.

And then there are these babies, which, God willing, we'll be bringing home in a few months time. Babies, in my mind, are the opposite of the rocks that have been piled on me over and over. Babies take some of the rocks away. This is kind of complicated to talk about...I wanted children desperately before all this bad stuff happpened, and I want kids for many reasons, but part of the reason I've wanted children so badly is that I feel so strongly that I need something happy and positive and life-affirming in my life to balance out the bad. I don't expect life to be wonderful all the time, but year after year and bad thing after bad thing happening...it's time for something good to happen to balance things out, right? I want my friends coming to a baby shower, not a funeral. I want to be the person other people call with their problems for a while, not the one in constant need of being talked off a ledge. And of course if I was unable to have children I would find some way to bring that happiness into my life...I have been trying for all these years to do just that...children are not the only answer... 

But. I guess my point is, good and bad are supposed to happen in everyone's life. I have had so much bad all concentrated together, have been so bogged down by grief. And I know more is coming...it's unrealistic to think nothing else bad is ever going to happen for the rest of my life.

But for now, knock on wood, I get a respite. I get some happiness to hopefully take some of this pain I've been carrying around away. I get a chance to catch my breath before the Next Bad Thing.

And for that I am incredibly grateful.

"Youthful Wonder"

Every second I spent surfing was filled with wonder...

A few lines at the end of an article in this week's (November 28, 2011) New Yorker have spent an inordinant amount of time in my brain the past days. They're from a profile of Peter Thiel written by George Packer entitled "No Death, No Taxes: The Libertarian Futurism of a Silicon Valley Billionaire:"

"An appetite for disruption and risk...reflects, in part, a sense of immunity to the normal heartbreak and defeats of a deadening job, money trouble, and unhappy children dealt out to the "unthinking herd." Thiel and his circle in Silicon Valley may be able to imagine a future that would never occur to other people precisely because they've refused to leave that stage of youthful wonder which life forces most human beings to outgrow." 

Youthful wonder...which for me I would define as waking up every day feeling like everything is ahead of you and possible, that you're lucky to be living the life you're living, and that there is so much beauty and goodness in the world...I had that for so long. Was it living in California? Surfing? Being able to spend so much time with my little brother, whom I adored? Not living a very conventional life, in terms of being married and divorced young (before most of my friends even got married at all), not having kids, not working a regular job but instead freelancing and traveling, not having any money trouble to speak of? Some combination?

All I know, is that between my brother being killed, me leaving California (directly related), not being able to surf any longer (also directly related), and I don't know if buying a house and getting married for real this time and having money stress mostly related to all the rounds of IVF we did and all the heartbreak involved in trying to have a baby and I don't know what else...I feel like that wonder...if it's not gone, certainly big parts of it have seeped away. Even though I have a terrific marriage, and these babies on the way, which is what I've wanted for so, so long...

Is the loss of wonder just part of growing up? (Which took me way longer to do than the average person...I pretty much acted like a teenager up until a few years ago.)

Or is there some way to hold onto it (or bring it back)?

I miss it...

XO

Image Credit: GAESSrhymeswithFACE via Etsy.

Today Is Luke's Birthday

My brother, who was killed. Six years ago now. He would have been 33 today.

I don't feel like I can write about the reality of how I feel. I feel like I have to hide how I really feel and I hate it. No one wants to be around someone who can't move beyond something like this. The only story anyone wants to hear is the one where you go through hard times and triumph over them, come out the other side stronger and better. But that is just not the truth of what's gone on here, even though I try to pretend that (act as if) it is, every day.

This has totally destroyed the person I was. And I don't know what I'm left with. I get up every day and try, try to love all those in my life (and there are many wonderful people in my life...I get accused of being ungrateful of that fact, but truly I am not), try to be happy.

But the reality is I feel like I lost my life too, have from Day 1. I had a psychologist tell me once my brother and I, because we were so close were "fused," and because of that I have trouble seeing what happened to him as separate from what happened to me. That makes sense to me, makes sense of my strong, strong feelings that my life was taken away as well, feelings that persist to this day. 

I feel so alone. So outside the norm of what grief is supposed to look like. So lost, still. And I have no idea what to do to make it better.

XOXO

Due Date

I should have known something was wrong when I started getting upset this morning for no reason. I mean, I have annoying conference calls all the time. And my email suddenly isn't working, but that's no big deal. That's fixable. Like my dad says, if you can throw money at it and fix it, it isn't a problem.

Driving over to my Mom and Dad's for lunch, I started bawling...I mean, not just a few tears, but a full-on breakdown. And then I knew what was wrong.

The baby I miscarried in April, she was supposed to be born right about today.

I try not to think about what happened last spring with the miscarriage, and maybe that's a mistake. Subconsciously, I know. It sneaks up on me. And it hurts so much.

It's days like this I feel like everything I've been through has broken me beyond repair. I just get so scared. I try so hard to have everything be OK and to count my blessings and move forward, but sometimes I  just feel like I can't bear all that has been given to me.

But what is there to do, except keep getting up every morning and try?

And I WILL have babies...or I hope that I will. There are two babies growing inside me, but I've been scared, especially these past few weeks, that something is going to happen to them. I'll just start crying about it for no reason, telling my husband I don't think I have the strength to try again if something happens. And I've been having very vivid miscarriage dreams.

Deep breaths. I'm sure everything is going to look better tomorrow.

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. Thanks for spending some time here this week.

XOXO

Image credit: Fighunt via Etsy.

Patience

"Patience is the theme of our class today," my yoga instructor said to us this morning. (And, by the way, it's prenatal and postpartum yoga, and one of the ladies brought her 7-week-old-daughter to class and oh my God was that baby ever cute. Cute, cute, cute. Absolutely cannot wait to have actual real live babies of my own.)

Anyway, patience. Patience with our bodies, all the changes, our emotions.

Applicable to yoga class, and also life in general, especially right now.

I have, I've realized, no patience with myself. I'm not cutting myself any slack.

I'm having a hard time with how my body's changing (feeling so fat and unattractive, scared I will never be pretty again...vain, I know, but there it is. Also, who I am is so based on athletics...being essentially a couch potato these past few months has left me feeling so adrift.)

I have no patience for how sick I've been, and exhausted. I've had to make allowances for these things, but I hate it and I fight it.

I have no patience for not feeling over-the-moon-happy about my pregnancy every second, even though intellectually I know it's normal to be up and down, especially with how sick I've been feeling.

I have no patience for the depression that creeps in, especially late at night. God, I still miss my brother, and still wonder if I will ever be OK with him dead, or if I'm just going to be in pain because of it for the rest of my life (the pain's better, more manageable, than it used to be, but it's still there). And I've just been through 5 years of trying to get pregnant (the last 3 with multiple surgeries and IVFs), and I think that's affected me more than I've let on...for so long it's just been keep your chin up and move onto the next thing, stay positive, don't think about the sadness of it. And the miscarriage I had last spring...what would have been my due date's coming up and I don't know if I just brushed all the feelings surrounding that aside when it happened and now it's coming back to haunt me, but it's feeling hard, even though I am pregnant now with two beautiful babies that seem to want to stick around.

In short, I want to be this happy, glow-y, beautiful, serene, perfect pregnant woman, and I'm not.

Sigh.

Patience for all the flaws, Kristen. Patience for all the flaws.

An Email to Nowhere

So I've been doing some writing about surfing over the past couple weeks, mostly about the years I surfed up in San Francisco. It's something I've been meaning to write about for years, and it's been fun to do.

Yesterday, I came across some old notes I had for the project, and found some emails from Luke, my brother who died, about how my first surfboard had gotten stolen out of the back of his truck.

I knew I had those emails, so that didn't come as a surprise. But I was really affected by seeing his email address: fedwithpunk@gmailcom. I'd forgotten about that address. It's so him.

And I've been thinking ever since about how much I want to send an email there. What happens to old email addresses when people die? Does someone else get it, like a phone nuber? Or does it just die along with the person?

I know if I sent an email I'd either get a nondeliverable message or no response. But a part of me just kind of holds out hope that somehow he'd get the message and send me something back. Crazy, I know.

I want an email from him so bad. Sucks that it's never going to happen.

And now I'm all teary. Stupid pregnancy hormones...I've been crying at everything lately...

XOXO

FAQ Fridays: A Dream About My Brother

So you had a dream about your brother. Which one?

Luke, the one who died.

Have you dreamed about him before?

No. (Well, I've dreamed about him dead, but that doesn't really count.)

And it's funny, a lot of people have had dreams with him in them, and I've always felt bad because it doesn't happen to me.

My BFF had a dream with Luke in it shortly after he died (they were very close) and said to him in the dream, "Why don't you go visit your sister? You should go visit your sister!" And he said, "Nah, she's too sad."

So I've always kind of felt like when I'm not so sad anymore, I'll dream of him. I had no idea it would take more than 6 years to get to that point, though.

What was the dream like?

He was his teenaged self, with crazy bushy hair, not the age he was when he died (27), when he had his hair pretty much buzz-cut.

He was across a busy city street from me (not sure where), and he saw me and his face lit up with a smile and he waved, and I waved back, and then he was gone.

So you didn't get to talk to him?

No. (My husband's first question when I told him about the dream was, "Did you ask him if he likes the boy name we picked?" [If we have a son, we're planning to name him Luke.] He was disappointed that my brother and I didn't get to have that conversation.)

How do you feel about the dream?

Good. Really good. I personally believe those connections in dreams are very real...as real as if we were talking long-distance on the phone. I really hope I dream of him again, and this time we get to have a conversation. But just seeing him....alive isn't the right word here...present, maybe? That was awesome.

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. Thanks for spending some time here this week. :)

XOXO

Image Credit: secret maison via Paul et Paula.

Comic, and Some Thoughts on Life and Death

Comic a few years ago just out of the wading pool, where he used to love to cool off on hot summer days.

My brother Luke who died, he always said someday he wanted a dog named Comic. So when my parents got a puppy shortly after Luke's death, that's what they named him.

And what a sweet dog. Followed you everywhere you went. Kisses like crazy. Smart as anything. An athlete of a dog...could hike all day and be ready for more. 

Comic turned five a few months ago. A couple weeks ago, he stopped eating. Long story short, numerous vet visits and lots of love at home, he died yesterday. A blood disease, out of the blue, killing a healthy dog.

My parents have a garden--a berm--they constructed in memory of my brother. Yesterday they buried Comic there. They put a corrugated length of plastic pipe that Comic loved to chew on, to take in his mouth and shake, on top of his grave. My dad dug that grave even before his dog had died, knowing what was inevitable. It breaks my heart to think of him doing that.

A lot of death this year.

My father-in-law.

My uncle.

My OB.

Our unborn baby.

This.

And I know Comic's just a dog, and not even my dog.

Still. 

I hate the reminder that death can come to anyone, at anytime, no warning whatsoever. It's hard. One of my big challenges in this life is to trust and believe that there is more to life than this, the snatching away of people and things that you love. Sometimes it feels like that's all there is. Loss upon loss upon loss, and what counters it? Anything? Or do you just sink deeper and deeper until it's finally your turn to die, to be released from all that pain?

"Luke always wanted a dog named Comic," my mom said to me when I stopped by yesterday, her eyes tearing up. "Now he's got him."

We love you, Comic. I'm so sorry this happened to you.

XOXO

FAQ Fridays: What Happened in Santa Barbara?

Santa Barbara from Cowell's Beach, July, 2011.

Those of you who've been following along for a little while may remember my trip to Santa Barbara a few weeks back. I've been meaning to talk more about what went on there, and today's the day.

So, what's the deal with you and Santa Barbara?

I first went there with my brother who died, the first surf trip we took down the California coast. It's so beautiful there...the mountains soaring up on one side, the Pacific on the other. My brother was in college when we did that trip, and it was love at first sight.

"Oh, man," he said. "As soon as I graduate, I'm moving here."

And he did.

How did you end up living there?

I was living in San Francisco, and came to visit my brother and surf all the time. He'd go to Alaska for the summers most years to work; one year when he came back he said to me, "Hey, why don't you move down to Santa Barbara with me? There's nothing keeping you in San Francisco. We'll get a house together. It'll be fun." So that's what we did. 

What was it like living there?

Living with my brother was amazing. We were really best friends, and a lot alike, and we just had so much fun. Surfing constantly. Barbeques with friends in the backyard. And he was in a band, so out to see all his shows. It was pretty idyllic. On the other hand, I was dealing with a pretty serious broken heart (as was my brother). And working too much (I mean really ridiculous hours). So good and bad.

When did your brother die?

A year and a half after I moved down. And it was totally sudden and unexpected. One morning he was saying, "Bye, love you, sis," on his way out the door to work, and by that evening he was dead.

What did you do after that happened?

I stayed in our house. I didn't really know what to do. Our friends took care of me.

What was it like?

It was awful being there after my brother had died. I was so heartbroken and lost. I totally quit surfing. Didn't work for months. I also met my now-husband a few months later, but he was working up in Alaska (had my brother's old job, which is how I met him), so I was still essentially alone.

When did you move away? Why did you move away?

About a year and a half after my brother died, I started to feel like I had to move. I wasn't really getting better, getting over my brother, like you're supposed to start doing...if anything, things were getting worse. And as things got more serious with my now-husband, we were wanting to be together. He had moved to Seattle, and I'd lived there before, and had good friends there, and was so sad in Southern California...everything reminded me of my brother. Moving seemed like the right thing. 

How was it?

Terrible. Leaving the beautiful town and the charming little house my brother and I had shared...it doesn't seem like leaving a place should be so hard, but it was just awful. I felt like I was abandoning my brother. I also felt like my life there had been taken away, never to be given back. I felt like I HAD to leave, like it wasn't a choice, and that's part of what I think made it so difficult.

How was Seattle?

I love Seattle, but moving from sunny Southern California to there in January (rain, clouds, darkness) was NOT a good idea. Plus I was still so upset about my brother...my now-husband and I moved again to Colorado six months later, for a number of reasons, but mostly so I could be around my remaining family, which he thought might help me (and it did).

Had you been back to Santa Barbara before this recent trip? How was it?

Yes, twice...once for my best friend's bridal shower weekend, and once for her wedding. I was the Maid of Honor, and was busy and focused on her, so it wasn't too bad. (There were actually lots of parts of those trips that were really, really lovely.) But it was HARD to go back, mostly I think because this place I absolutely loved felt so definitively off limits...like I may as well have been dead too for all it was possible to ever be there again.

Were you scared about going this summer?

A little. Mostly because I promised my husband that if we went I would be happy and make it a fun trip. Although if I HAD gotten upset it would have been OK...my husband just wanted me going there with a good mindset. But I wasn't sure how realistic it was for me not to end up sad.

So how was it?

You know, a really big shift happened. It was totally different.

What happened?

The first night we were there, we decided to walk down to the Pier for dinner. Most of the restaurants on the pier are mediocre tourist traps, but the Santa Barbara Shellfish Company on the end is so good and a place I used to go all the time. In fact, a few days before my brother died, we tried to go to dinner there, but they had just closed for the evening (they keep really random hours). I always wondered after if we had told them it was the last dinner out we'd ever have together, if they would have let us in. But of course we didn't know...

Anyway, my husband and I started walking, it was a beautiful night, warm and humid and State Street's so cool with its shops and restaurants and eclectic mix of people. My husband and I were holding hands and he said out of the blue, "Would you ever want to move back here? If you wanted to move back here, we could make it happen."

And with those words, all the hurt and pain and angst I've been carrying around with me surrounding Santa Barbara was gone. Just gone. All of a sudden, it wasn't a place I had to will myself not to love because I was never allowed to be there again. Instead, it became just a place I happen not to be living in right now, but could move to in the future if I wanted to. Just to clarify, it wasn't like my husband was giving me permission (our relationship's not like that), but more that he reminded me/opened my eyes to what was possible, you know? And also, I don't know how much this plays into it, but time has gone by, and I have gotten better, I have a life for myself now, vs when I left Santa Barbara and pretty much couldn't see any sort of future for myself.

And it's so weird, but there's such a relief in the feeling that Santa Barbara and me, we can be friends again. I'm no longer in exile. I'm not saying we're going to move to Santa Barbara, but the fact that we COULD...that it's not permanently taken away from me...it's just a huge shift for me.

So you weren't sad at all while you were there?

Really, no. I mean, there are things I know not to do. I can't go by the house where my brother and I lived. I can't go by the intersection where my brother was killed. (It would have been nice to leave flowers there, but I know I can't handle it. Just writing about it is upsetting me.) But being in Santa Barbara felt very different this time around, and for that I am grateful.

So I do't know if I've explained this very well...it's kind of hard for me to talk about anything that's gone on around me losing my brother...I read it and it sounds so over-the-top and drama queen-y, you know? But that's how it's been and I'm just trying to tell it for real.

Oh, and PS, if we ever were to go back, I would never try to recreate what my brother and I had. I know that's not possible. It'd be a new start to a new life.

Hope everyone has an amazing weekend!

XOXO