Rebuilding Myself

One year ago today we had our first ultrasound for our first pregnancy.  Although very nervous, we were thrilled.

Two little squirmy bodies greeted us on the screen.  Shock, joy, and relief best described that day.  We didn’t know until that day that we were carrying twins, but were overjoyed at the news.  I felt extreme relief as I went from having a “huge” belly with one to actually carrying fairly small for two. 

Forever our lives were changed that day. 

I sit, trying to work.  Images of my belly, screen shots of the girls, and memories of sharing our news crowd out all thoughts of newsletters, phone calls, and business related tasks. 

Tears roll down my face.

Memories flood back of Hallowe’en last year.  The ultrasound room, our families faces as we showed them a little heel directly by a little head, our frantic calculations of how we were going to make two work.

I don’t know how I will hand out candy at the door this year.  Too many conversations with neighbours last year crowd into my thoughts. 

How the year has changed us.  November 12 looms ahead … I find it hard to breathe.

It never fails … after a few fantastic days, something comes along that makes them just a little less so. 

In the last week, FIVE friends have told me that they are pregnant.  I say told me because some are quite far along, but were scared to let me know. 

And the best part??  Two are due within a couple weeks of when Bug would have been due. 

And I just feel like an evil person, because my happiness for them is seriously dampered by the sadness of it not being me.  How horrible.

My favorite quote of the phone conversations.  “We weren’t trying, it just happened.  You know how it can go.”  Really???  Actually no, I don’t.  But thanks anyways.

Someone knew I needed a few days where I could breathe again, days when that familiar ache wasn’t crushing me … the last  days have been wonderful.  I am sure it has as much to do with good work projects and lovely fall weather as anything else, but I’ll take it regardless! 

So on to lighter fare  … my addiction to POAS.

Seriously, I consider myself an educated, rational, money-conscious woman most of the time.  Not so when it comes to HPTs.  I can’t contain myself.  When I am experiencing regular cycles I at least limit myself to right before the expected period, but at times like this (after a loss), I go crazy.

I can’t cout the money I have spent on them.  It doesn’t seem to matter if I KNOW I am not pregnant, that the dates don’t line up, that there are no symptoms (and mine are quite obvious) … If I walk by the isle I have to buy them … and promptly pee on them at home.  And not just any test will do, only the most expensive, earliest detecting ones will do.

<sigh> Must get this under control.

And just a couple pictures that make me smile … Me and DH with my nephew on one of their recent visits.  Honestly, this kid is so much fun.  And he adores us – DH WAY more, but I’ll pretend like I am close

After “Tree Hugging” together – we both thought we were pretty funny.

See the adoration?  Seriously, his uncle and cookies are all this kid needs to be happy.

Exactly one year ago, this was me (on the left) … exhausted, sore, but absolutely thrilled.  I was blissfully unaware that three weeks later my world would be shattered.

As the one year anniversary of losing our girls approaches, I find myself lost in reflection – of what could have been … should have been …. would have been.  My arms ache with their emptiness, our house echoes with only two of us here. 

And I feel very alone.  Around the time we lost the girls, three acquaintences also experienced loss – two to stillbirth and one to a second miscarriage.  Two now hold babies, the other is 22 weeks pregnant.  And I am still here, no closer to holding a baby then immediately after we lost the girls.

I find myself discouraged … I feel like I should be better by now.  But instead, I find the longing for a baby more intense then it has been in almost a year.  I don’t anticipate it is going to get any easier before November 12th either.

Today, October 15, is the National Day of Remembrance for Pregnancy and Infant Loss in the States. As a Canadian, I have watched the date appear on various blogs and emails, sitting back, not ready to take action.  I rationalized it away as being “for Americans”  and not something to take part of … but today, I finally realized that it could be for me too.

I realized that the reason I didn’t want to do anything was because when it comes to my “real” life, I don’t generally share.  Only a couple people knew about Bug – not even the company we had the weekend we found out Bug was gone knew.  I didn’t want to share, to say anything would be to publically acknowledge the pain.  It would validate the pregnancy, recognize the loss, force me to admit that I might not be doing okay … and all outside of the safe place I built for myself within the babyloss community.

Today, I did something about it.  While it may not seem big, to me it was huge.  I used my other blog – my friends and family blog – as a place to talk about today, as a place to share about Bug. 

Because honestly, if I am not willing to talk about the losses that make me who I am, how can I expect anyone else to?  If not me, who?

I watch her do life, wondering how she continues on like nothing is wrong.  I am amazed at her ability to function so well.

Every day she marches through life, smiling and laughing with those around her.  She gets up in the morning and readies herself for work, plows through meetings, accomplishes projects and hits deadlines.

She visits friends and their babies, cooing gently, bouncing babies the same age Avery and Sophie would have been.  She congratulates them as they proudly talk about their babies rolling over, eating rice cereal, and learning to sit, never mentioning the girls that will never accomplish any of these things.

She sends little cards to friends just annoucing new pregnancies.  Very few people know this week she would have been annoucing hers. 

Thanksgiving is just around the corner and she frantically prepares her home for all the family that will be descending upon it this evening.  Nobody knows it is killing her inside to participate in this holiday.  Last year she was thankful for a baby.  Between then and now she lost twins, her husband to job training two provinces away for six months, experienced extreme depression, moved to a new town, and lost Bug … Thanksgiving seems like a raw concept.  But nobody will know.

Meanwhile I watch from afar, wounded and still hurting, wishing I knew how to break out of my shell and be real with others.  It feels as though a stranger is living my life, while I am stuck watching it from the outside.

My new baby … what can I say, I am definitely in love.  After driving the “crappy vehicle” our whole marriage, I finally have a vehicle we aren’t embarrassed to drive.

I can’t wait for my road trip this weekend, even though this thing will definitely guzzle gas.  Oh well, it will be worth it when I am driving gravel roads in the dead of Canadian winter!