In a nutshell, Thanksgiving was a disappointment this year. That's not to say there weren't good moments, but it wasn't really what I had in mind for Caitlyn's first Thanksgiving. Every year, I go to my mom's, but this year my store pushed our mall to let us open and I had to work. The trade-off being that I could have Christmas Eve off. Caitlyn's first Christmas was definitely higher on the list so I agreed to be one of the two managers who had to work today.
It was a very quiet day. For some reason, my company thought there would be some crazy shopping bonanza but it really did go the other way and we were quiet the majority of the day, with just a few busy hours in the morning. The upside to that was when Rodolfo brought Caitlyn by during my lunch break. There were about 5 customers in the store at that point, so I ran around with Caitlyn, trying outfits on her, picking out the tiniest little fuzzy boots for her Christmas pictures and just generally spazzing out and making her giggle. Actually, it was pretty fun when I think about it.
Tomorrow is Black Friday and I have a 12 hour shift ahead of me. Not looking forward to that. But there is good news. This will be the only Thanksgiving Caitlyn will have without me. I got a new job. A grown-up job that isn't in retail and doesn't require me to miss every holiday and 90% of weekends with my daughter. I'm quite excited.
It was definitely awkward, quitting my retail job a month before Christmas. I had anxiety about it for an entire day before I finally told my boss. She was surprisingly understanding. I explained the part about my family life. Rodolfo and I have been working opposite schedules- literally opposite- we work for the same company and our bosses have been coordinating, to accommodate my sister and her new limitations with babysitting. I realized that I don't have a back-up plan if she decides she doesn't want to do it anymore again. And we have been really driving ourselves crazy trying to keep it all straight. So there's that.
The other part is about opportunities. During my yearly review, I was informed that because I don't have a bachelor's degree, I was no longer in line for any promotions. Ever. The company had decided that you need 4 years of schooling to do what I've been doing for a decade. They weren't taking anyone out of their positions or anything, but I wouldn't be considered for a promotion until I completed the remaning 2 and a half years of schooling I would need for a bachelors. Did I mention they told me this when I was fucking 8 MONTHS PREGNANT??? Yeah... pregnant and $10,000 in debt from fertility treatments. Sounds like an ideal time to go back to school! And ok...not to be bitchy or anything, but seriously, a bachelors to manage a clothing store? Are you fucking serious? It's not brain surgery. They didn't even specify "oh, a bachelors in business management". Nope, turns out any old bachelors will do. I could have a degree in Totally Irrelevant Bullshitology and I could get a promotion.
So I made a decision and I found something better. Something office-y and grown-up, where I have off nights and weekends and fucking Thanksgiving.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
6 Months
Today Caitlyn had her 6 month well baby visit and vaccinations. She was officially 6 months old on the 7th. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. I can't picture my life before she was here but it seems so ridiculous that it's been half a year already. I've learned some stuff about myself since she's been born that surprised me. So here what I didn't expect:
1. I'm not really the nursery rhyme type. I sing Taio Cruz songs to Caitlyn and she loves it. And sometimes I start singing any song that pops into my head to her and I have to remind myself that the lyrics aren't really appropriate to sing to a child -If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one. It's especially funny when I use Caitlyn's name instead of the word bitch- that's how I justify singing Jay-Z songs to my infant.
2. I never thought I'd be the type to get competitive with other moms in a playground bitch sort of way but I totally am. I think my kid is better then everyone else's. Cuter and smarter too. And not just in the obligatory way. I truly believe that she is far more advanced then all the dumb babies around me (did I mention that she said mama at 5 months?). And you can't even get mad at me for it. Because you think your kid is better too.
3. I never thought I'd be so concerned about the color, texture and smell of another person's shit. If you are curious, we are currently at the "brown, sticky, elephant" stage- only recently upgraded from "green, chunky, sour".
4. I am, in fact, the type of person who can get sucked in to feeling guilty about wanting to stop breastfeeding. Before Caitlyn was born, I always thought that breastfeeding moms were a little too intense about being anti-formula and how I wouldn't have any qualms about changing Caitlyn over to formula if breastfeeding got to be too difficult. But that's just not the reality. I feel like a bad mom who is putting convenience over what is best for my child. I feel like I would be giving her artifical crap instead of something natural and healthy. I feel intensely protective of the fact that this should be my decision and I shouldn't feel pressured by anyone else to stop breastfeeding. I feel grateful to our pediatrician for telling me I gave Caitlyn a great start, but also a little sad that he was so quick to throw formula samples at me instead of encouraging me to keep giving her breastmilk. I feel so torn.
5. As a kid, I never understood why my mom saw pets as such an inconvenience. It's because they fucking are an inconvenience. I got shit to do, dog.
6. It was quite shocking to realize I married a baby retard. He's the most logical man I know, how is he so bad at this?
7. I can no longer watch the news or movies that have sad storylines involving children. Because I cry like a little bitch baby. Seriously, there was a story on the news tonight about a charity that is doing a coat drive and they were showing the people putting coats on little kids who were standing outside in the cold- apparently previously coatless- and I totally lost my shit.
And now for the things I have learned about Caitlyn:
1. Caitlyn thinks Rodolfo's stern voice is hilarious. Whenever he sounds annoyed about anything she watches him intently and cracks up. This is his punishment from God for being an asshole.
2. She'd rather stand, so please stop trying to sit her down.
3. She doesn't think the pets are an inconvenience, and she regards them with amusement, adoration and just a little too much grabbing of fistfuls of fur.
4. She is a black hole for socks.
5. She has figured out the
best way to clear out her teething induced nasal congestion is to scrunch up her nose and snort. It is quite possibly the cutest and funniest thing I have ever seen.6. She would REALLY love the opportunity to feed herself. Oh, wait, not really. Actually she just wants to knock the entire bowl of cereal out of my hand so the dog can have a treat.
7. She is Baby McGuyver. Today at the doctor's office, I was holding her while talking to the doctor and she was fiddling with my necklace. Then I heard something drop. I looked down and saw my necklace was open and what I had heard dropping was the heart pendant on it. I was sad because it's the necklace my mom gave me shortly after I lost Nicholas, and it has his name on it and a great deal of sentimental value and now it was broken. Or so I thought. When I actually looked at it, I saw that it was NOT broken. My 6 month old daughter unhooked it. How the fuck is that even possible? Apparently she had a paper clip, dental floss and a stick of gum in her diaper. Baby McGuyver!
8. She is just about the greatest thing ever. Seriously. Everyone who meets her thinks she's the most cheerful, hilarious baby they've ever seen. Refer to list 1, point 2.
Labels:
6 months,
breastfeeding,
parenting
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
This is All Bad
I don't know what it is exactly, maybe stress. Work has been crazy, Rodolfo and I have been fighting all the time. So maybe that's why I've been feeling...weird. I lost my Nicholas over a year and a half ago, so most of the time it's not so fresh in my mind. I have moments regularly that I think of him, and I say goodnight to him before bed every day. But the pain has been less intense since Caitlyn has been born.
So I can't quite put my finger on why I keep reliving what happened on the day I found out we lost him and the following day when he was born. I don't think about it constantly or anything, and I can't say I feel depressed exactly, but then something will happen. I'll hear a song that reminds me of that time or I'll look at Caitlyn and think of him and it just hits me with an intensity that I haven't felt in a year.
I still find it shocking. I still can't even fathom that it really happened to me. I think about sitting in the ultrasound room in my old OB's office and hearing her tell me that my son died. I remember the details, I remember how I felt. I remember being so hysterical that I could barely breathe. I remember my doctor telling me that I needed to try to calm down for a few minutes so she could talk to me about what came next. I remember leaving the office that day and realizing that absolutely everyone who was there knew I lost my baby. It occurred to me then that I wasn't sobbing in privacy while my husband and I grieved the loss of our child. I was so loud and so inconsolable that every patient, nurse and receptionist knew that my baby had died.
I remember those days and I feel out of control. I feel like I'm falling apart and my family is falling apart. I feel like everything I love is going to be taken from me and I can't do anything to stop it. When I think of it like that, I really do think this has to do with my marriage. It seems we are at some sort of crossroads. We spent the last 3 years fighting so hard to make it to this point- the supposed "happily ever after" with our beautiful daughter. And now it seems that all we do is fight. We have no common goal to work towards anymore. I hate to think that infertility was the glue holding us together, but now that we are past it we seem to be falling apart.
We both knew long ago that we didn't have much in common. We have opposite personalities- I'm easygoing and fun and he's driven and intense. But I thought we were happy. I've always felt we balanced each other out, but now I'm not so sure. I don't know where we go from here. I just feel lost.
So I can't quite put my finger on why I keep reliving what happened on the day I found out we lost him and the following day when he was born. I don't think about it constantly or anything, and I can't say I feel depressed exactly, but then something will happen. I'll hear a song that reminds me of that time or I'll look at Caitlyn and think of him and it just hits me with an intensity that I haven't felt in a year.
I still find it shocking. I still can't even fathom that it really happened to me. I think about sitting in the ultrasound room in my old OB's office and hearing her tell me that my son died. I remember the details, I remember how I felt. I remember being so hysterical that I could barely breathe. I remember my doctor telling me that I needed to try to calm down for a few minutes so she could talk to me about what came next. I remember leaving the office that day and realizing that absolutely everyone who was there knew I lost my baby. It occurred to me then that I wasn't sobbing in privacy while my husband and I grieved the loss of our child. I was so loud and so inconsolable that every patient, nurse and receptionist knew that my baby had died.
I remember those days and I feel out of control. I feel like I'm falling apart and my family is falling apart. I feel like everything I love is going to be taken from me and I can't do anything to stop it. When I think of it like that, I really do think this has to do with my marriage. It seems we are at some sort of crossroads. We spent the last 3 years fighting so hard to make it to this point- the supposed "happily ever after" with our beautiful daughter. And now it seems that all we do is fight. We have no common goal to work towards anymore. I hate to think that infertility was the glue holding us together, but now that we are past it we seem to be falling apart.
We both knew long ago that we didn't have much in common. We have opposite personalities- I'm easygoing and fun and he's driven and intense. But I thought we were happy. I've always felt we balanced each other out, but now I'm not so sure. I don't know where we go from here. I just feel lost.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
The Lonely Grown-ups Club
Tonight is the second night since Caitlyn has been born that she is spending the night away from me. My sister (who is babysitting for Caitlyn again) was going to visit my mom today, and since I'm planning to go visit for Halloween tomorrow, my mom was happy to keep Caitlyn for the night.
It's very strange being away from her for any length of time. Usually just the length of my shifts at work seem like an eternity away... by the time I see her tomorrow, I will have been away from her for more than 24 straight hours. I get so lonely without her... she's just sunshine and puppies and rainbows for me. She's absolutely what I live for. And it's so weird not seeing her for a whole day.
I was happy at first... the last few weeks at work have been exhausting and I could really use a night to myself. But now that she's gone and I have all these hours to myself, all I can think about are all the stupid little tasks that need to get done. Things I have been putting off because I never seem to have the time.
I cleaned out the cabinets in my kitchen just a little while ago. It's something that's been bugging me for months so I was happy to finally get it done. After throwing out the expired stuff and the crap I'll never use again, I gotta tell you, it's looking pretty sparse in there. I have some baking stuff (I bake more than I actually cook), a couple of boxes of pasta and jars of tomato sauce, a bag of lentils and some white rice. Oh, and an entire shelf of seasoning. You know, to season the lentils and rice.
I was able to create a cabinet that's just for Caitlyn's stuff. Nadine got me these awesome little containers from Ikea that are the perfect size for portions of cereal or fruit, so they are in there. Along with that are the parts for the food processor (for making baby food), her bottles and bowls, cereal and snacks. It's all conveniently located in the most accessible cabinet so my annoying husband isn't always searching for things that are right in front of his face.
I always feel better when stuff is organized. Generally speaking, I'm what you might call an utter slob, but it's mostly because I can't clean things without going completely overboard. I end up with everything half done because I'm trying too hard to make it perfect and I don't have time to finish. That's the great thing about long-expired food though, no need to organize it!
The plan for the rest of the night was to possibly go to a movie, but now I'm damn tired and I don't know if I have the enthusiasm for it anymore. That's just sad, isn't it? Too tired to go to a movie.
It's very strange being away from her for any length of time. Usually just the length of my shifts at work seem like an eternity away... by the time I see her tomorrow, I will have been away from her for more than 24 straight hours. I get so lonely without her... she's just sunshine and puppies and rainbows for me. She's absolutely what I live for. And it's so weird not seeing her for a whole day.
I was happy at first... the last few weeks at work have been exhausting and I could really use a night to myself. But now that she's gone and I have all these hours to myself, all I can think about are all the stupid little tasks that need to get done. Things I have been putting off because I never seem to have the time.
I cleaned out the cabinets in my kitchen just a little while ago. It's something that's been bugging me for months so I was happy to finally get it done. After throwing out the expired stuff and the crap I'll never use again, I gotta tell you, it's looking pretty sparse in there. I have some baking stuff (I bake more than I actually cook), a couple of boxes of pasta and jars of tomato sauce, a bag of lentils and some white rice. Oh, and an entire shelf of seasoning. You know, to season the lentils and rice.
I was able to create a cabinet that's just for Caitlyn's stuff. Nadine got me these awesome little containers from Ikea that are the perfect size for portions of cereal or fruit, so they are in there. Along with that are the parts for the food processor (for making baby food), her bottles and bowls, cereal and snacks. It's all conveniently located in the most accessible cabinet so my annoying husband isn't always searching for things that are right in front of his face.
I always feel better when stuff is organized. Generally speaking, I'm what you might call an utter slob, but it's mostly because I can't clean things without going completely overboard. I end up with everything half done because I'm trying too hard to make it perfect and I don't have time to finish. That's the great thing about long-expired food though, no need to organize it!
The plan for the rest of the night was to possibly go to a movie, but now I'm damn tired and I don't know if I have the enthusiasm for it anymore. That's just sad, isn't it? Too tired to go to a movie.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day
**As a disclaimer, I will say that there are pictures of my stillborn son at the end of this post. It may be uncomfortable for some to see. **
Today is October 15th. For those who don't know, it is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. This blog is fairly new, and I've talked mostly about my daughter and parenting, but what I haven't addressed are the struggles I faced on my road to becoming a mother. I won't go into detail (at least not today) about the actual fertility issues. I will simply say that getting pregnant was not easy for us. There were major issues and we were told IVF was our only option. We were excited, overwhelmed and cautious when we got pregnant through a frozen embryo transfer (FET) the cycle following our fresh cycle IVF.
When you need IVF to get pregnant, there is a certain level of anticipation that something might go wrong. The process itself is stressful enough, but what I'm talking about is after it's over and you have had success and you are pregnant. I did a ton of research before my IVF. I knew that I was forcing my body to do something that wasn't coming naturally. I knew that it could mean the pregnancy wouldn't stick.
I'm not a person who keeps things to myself. Even though I feared that I could lose the baby, I told my friends and family right away. Even my coworkers knew fairly early on- mostly because I couldn't stop puking.
You always hear about the first trimester being the time you should worry. I remember being 12 weeks pregnant and thinking "am I safe now that I hit 12 weeks, or do I have to wait till I'm officially PAST 12 weeks before I can stop worrying about a miscarriage?". I made it past 12 weeks and I felt a little relieved. My morning sickness was still pretty intense... I remember practically eating the entire contents of Nadine's pantry while baking Christmas cookies because I would puke if I didn't have a constant stream of food in my mouth. But I told myself it was all ok. I would throw up and think "this means my baby is growing". And he was.
I had my monthly doctor's appointments and everything was going well. I still had morning sickness pretty bad, even into my 5th month, and I was absolutely exhausted all the time. But, hey, that's pregnancy for you. I was so eager for my 20 week ultrasound. I was convinced from day 1 that I was having a baby girl and I managed to convince everyone else of the same. My mom came to our appointment that day and we all reacted with a bit of shock when the ultrasound tech showed us a picture and said "there's the penis!"... apparently "it's a boy" wasn't explicit enough for her. I had never pictured myself with a boy, but I quickly adjusted my view. We made our way to Babies R Us right from the doctor's office and bought my sweet boy, Nicholas, his very first outfit.
It's pretty ironic that this visit was the turning point for me as far as fearing that I wouldn't take a baby home. I finally felt confident that everything was going to be fine. I could see my life with my son clearly and it was wonderful. I never imagined that he would never wear that first outfit, or any of the others I bought for him from that day till the day of my 24 week check-up, a month later. I could never imagine that as I shopped for baby clothes and started a registry, my tiny, perfect son was dying inside of me.
It was March 19, 2009. I was in a good mood, because my morning sickness was FINALLY subsiding. I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office and was surprised to see I had lost 2lbs. "It's that fat baby boy eating all my food", I thought. As we waited for the doctor, I remember hoping my son had turned into an odd position...somewhere the doppler couldn't pick up his heartbeat so I could get an ultrasound again. Ultrasounds were always the most fun. When the doctor came in and actually couldn't find his heartbeat, I smiled a little to myself... he was listening to his Mommy already! It never occurred to me that he didn't have a heartbeat anymore. Not even for a second. I was just anxious to get my ultrasound and see my boy again.
I expected immediate recognition of the sound of Nicky's heartbeat. I expected "there it is!" from the ultrasound tech. What I got was silence. Several uncomfortable minutes of silence. Is everything ok?. Had they missed something? I just had an ultrasound last month! I feared that they found some sort of birth defect that they missed last time. The only thing she said to me was "I need to get the doctor" and she walked out of the room.
That's when I started to cry. Rodolfo told me not to worry, that everything would be fine. It wasn't. My doctor came in, briefly looked at the ultrasound and said to me "I'm sorry, Jaclyn, he just stopped growing". It took me a second to realize that she didn't just mean that he was too small. He had stopped growing because he died. I fucking lost it. I sobbed hysterically for the next 20 minutes or so. The doctor left the room to give me and my husband a few minutes alone. I called my mom and blubbered into the phone "HE DIED MOM, HE DIED". I was so hysterical that I had to say it half a dozen times before she could understand me.
At that point I was told I needed to make a decision about how I wanted to proceed. I could have labor induced. No, definitely not. I wasn't ready, I was terrified. I couldn't spend the next day in the maternity ward, laboring with my dead child. I couldn't. My only other option was a D&E. I said yes without really knowing what it was. I was then given medicine to dilate my cervix and told to be at the hospital the next morning for my surgery. My doctor offered her condolences. I asked if she had an idea as to why this happened. She said she could run some tests but that with a D&E there is only "tissue" and it can be hard to know for sure. That's when I realized that what they meant was that they would rip my baby apart and pull him out of me in pieces. It was absolutely horrific to think about.
I went home and was in shock for the rest of the day. I sat on my couch and didn't even cry. I just stared into space and didn't know what to do. It occurred to me that maybe I made the wrong choice, but for some reason I didn't feel like I could change it now. I thought maybe I could bring on labor and my son would be born before the D&E. So I walked. I took my dog and my husband and walked to the ice cream shop a mile from my house. As it turned out, that did put me into labor.
I was given painkillers and took some as my labor got progressively harder to handle. By midnight I was waking up every 5 minutes or so with contractions. By 2am I didn't know how much more I could take. I called my doctor and she told me I only had a few more hours till I had to be at the hospital and asked if I thought I could make it. So I stayed home till 6am, then made my way over. By that point I was having contractions every 2 minutes or so. I remember waiting in the lobby of the hospital for my husband to park the car and thinking that I didn't yet look pregnant enough for anyone to realize I was in labor. People probably just thought I was whiny and fat. By the time we made it up to the surgery floor, I was begging for painkillers and told them I needed a wheelchair because I simply couldn't walk anymore.
The operating rooms were running behind and my contractions came fast and hard. I begged for meds that never came. My nurse was warm and comforting and promised that she would get me something as soon as she spoke to my doctor. When they were finally ready to bring me in for my surgery, it was after 9 am. They told me to use the bathroom before they got started and I did. I was actually wheeled into the bathroom on a gurney because I was unable to walk and having nearly constant contractions.
After that they had me get into a wheelchair and told me they were bringing me to the operating room. As I stood up I could feel the sensation that something was coming out of me. The medication I was given to dilate my cervix was in the form of medicated sponges, so I assumed that was what I felt. Nonetheless I was concerned and started shouting "something is coming out!". My nurse rushed me to the operating room, where I stood to get onto the operating table, begging them to knock me out immediately. But then I saw the sponges on the floor. I turned to look at them and my water broke. It was brown. Meconium. Fetal distress. It made me wonder if he suffered at all. It made me so sad.
A moment later, I was looking at my son. He had fallen out of me and onto the operating room floor. The nurses and my doctor all yelled at me that I shouldn't look, but I wanted to see him. I told them to please bring me my child. I saw him for a moment. He had my husband's lips but he looked like me in every other way. Then my doctor told me they would still be doing a D&C, because it was very common for the placenta to stay attached at such an early stage of pregnancy. As they brought the gas mask to my face, I just remember saying "I want my husband to see him". She told me she would try...that wasn't good enough. I looked at the nurse right in front of me and told her firmly "I want my husband to see him". She said ok and then I was out.
I don't remember the surgery at all. I didn't even have the recognition of time passing. I woke up in another room with no idea how I got there. I woke up in a clean, dry gown (as I went under, I was wet with amniotic fluid and shivering cold) with no idea who saw me naked. It was a very strange sensation. Rodolfo was there waiting for me to wake up. A few minutes later, they brought us our son.
He was on a fluffy white surface- maybe a blanket, I'm not really sure. I remember how tiny he was- only 9 ounces I would later find out. He looked like a doll. He was mostly wrapped up, so I spent a few minutes looking at his perfect face, then I took his hand and compared it to mine. His entire hand was the size of the tip of my thumb. I was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture in the background. I held him for a few minutes, then kissed him goodbye 3 times on his forehead. That was the last time I ever saw my son.
When I look at his picture now, as I sometimes do, I'm shocked at how he looked... he was purple and covered in blood. That's not how I remember him at all. He was angelic, perfect. It was unfathomable to me at the time that he wasn't just sleeping or something. He looked exactly like I pictured he would. My nose and cheeks, my husband's lips. I always pictured him with hair, but he was too young to have any yet, so that's all I can say I was surprised by, that he was bald. I wish I had taken more time to look over his whole body... to see his tiny legs and feet and butt. To take more detailed pictures of him. The ones I have are blurry and at an odd angle. I wish I would have given him a bath and maybe put a little hat on him so I could have something concrete to hold onto and say "this belonged to my son". All I have now are 2 blurry pictures and the few outfits that were the first I chose for him. And pictures of the things I registered for that I imagined he would love and use for his entire babyhood. I have so little... I have to truly cherish those few reminders.
I've felt like a mother ever since that day, March 20, 2009. It's odd because outsiders don't see you that way. If my child had lived even one day outside of my body, if he had grabbed my finger or smiled at me even once.. if I had one picture of him when he was alive, it would be so different in the eyes of everyone else.
I guess I can say that, up to that day, I had been lucky in not ever losing someone who was very close to me. So I can't really compare the loss of my son to anything else, but I can say that with the overwhelming grief came a crushing sense of guilt and responsibility. I tried to remind myself that I wasn't to blame, and now I can see it with a little more perspective. But the truth is that it's hard to see it any other way. I was the one and only person charged with caring for him and ensuring he was safe. I was the one who noticed he was moving less and didn't want to seem like one of those paranoid pregnant ladies so I never called my doctor. I was the one who left him on the floor of the operating room instead of picking him up like I wish I would have. There are just so many regrets, so much lost.
Today I have Caitlyn and she is amazing. The fear that something will happen to her never leaves me, and was especially terrifying during my pregnancy. But at least now I can look at her and know she's ok. I think of Nicholas every day. Each night I ask him to watch over his baby sister. I don't feel overwhelmingly sad every day anymore, but it's the little things that hurt the most. As I watch Caitlyn grow, I'll sometimes picture a boy version of her and know that I'm missing my Nicky. I think of how she won't ever know her big brother. As Halloween approaches, I imagine them in coordinating costumes. The reality is that if Nicholas had been born when he was supposed to, I wouldn't have ever been pregnant with Caitlyn. But I can't think of it like that. When I imagine how our life would be different if our son had lived, I don't imagine a boy instead of a girl. I imagine them both, very close in age as would have been the case if I had gotten pregnant again right away, growing up together.
So on this day, I wanted to talk about the child I lost. The child who has just as big a piece of my heart as Caitlyn does. The child I only ever got to kiss goodbye. He's mine and I'm his. And I miss him every day. I wanted to recognize that lost piece of my life. As with any mother, I think he was perfect and beautiful and special. He liked Skittles and sleeping late. He was here, if only for a moment and I want people to know him.
Below I'm going to include his photo. I don't have any pictures of him alive, unfortunately, so please be prepared for what you will see if you choose to look at these pictures. I don't think it's weird but it may make some people uncomfortable to look at them.
Today is October 15th. For those who don't know, it is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. This blog is fairly new, and I've talked mostly about my daughter and parenting, but what I haven't addressed are the struggles I faced on my road to becoming a mother. I won't go into detail (at least not today) about the actual fertility issues. I will simply say that getting pregnant was not easy for us. There were major issues and we were told IVF was our only option. We were excited, overwhelmed and cautious when we got pregnant through a frozen embryo transfer (FET) the cycle following our fresh cycle IVF.
When you need IVF to get pregnant, there is a certain level of anticipation that something might go wrong. The process itself is stressful enough, but what I'm talking about is after it's over and you have had success and you are pregnant. I did a ton of research before my IVF. I knew that I was forcing my body to do something that wasn't coming naturally. I knew that it could mean the pregnancy wouldn't stick.
I'm not a person who keeps things to myself. Even though I feared that I could lose the baby, I told my friends and family right away. Even my coworkers knew fairly early on- mostly because I couldn't stop puking.
You always hear about the first trimester being the time you should worry. I remember being 12 weeks pregnant and thinking "am I safe now that I hit 12 weeks, or do I have to wait till I'm officially PAST 12 weeks before I can stop worrying about a miscarriage?". I made it past 12 weeks and I felt a little relieved. My morning sickness was still pretty intense... I remember practically eating the entire contents of Nadine's pantry while baking Christmas cookies because I would puke if I didn't have a constant stream of food in my mouth. But I told myself it was all ok. I would throw up and think "this means my baby is growing". And he was.
I had my monthly doctor's appointments and everything was going well. I still had morning sickness pretty bad, even into my 5th month, and I was absolutely exhausted all the time. But, hey, that's pregnancy for you. I was so eager for my 20 week ultrasound. I was convinced from day 1 that I was having a baby girl and I managed to convince everyone else of the same. My mom came to our appointment that day and we all reacted with a bit of shock when the ultrasound tech showed us a picture and said "there's the penis!"... apparently "it's a boy" wasn't explicit enough for her. I had never pictured myself with a boy, but I quickly adjusted my view. We made our way to Babies R Us right from the doctor's office and bought my sweet boy, Nicholas, his very first outfit.
It's pretty ironic that this visit was the turning point for me as far as fearing that I wouldn't take a baby home. I finally felt confident that everything was going to be fine. I could see my life with my son clearly and it was wonderful. I never imagined that he would never wear that first outfit, or any of the others I bought for him from that day till the day of my 24 week check-up, a month later. I could never imagine that as I shopped for baby clothes and started a registry, my tiny, perfect son was dying inside of me.
It was March 19, 2009. I was in a good mood, because my morning sickness was FINALLY subsiding. I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office and was surprised to see I had lost 2lbs. "It's that fat baby boy eating all my food", I thought. As we waited for the doctor, I remember hoping my son had turned into an odd position...somewhere the doppler couldn't pick up his heartbeat so I could get an ultrasound again. Ultrasounds were always the most fun. When the doctor came in and actually couldn't find his heartbeat, I smiled a little to myself... he was listening to his Mommy already! It never occurred to me that he didn't have a heartbeat anymore. Not even for a second. I was just anxious to get my ultrasound and see my boy again.
I expected immediate recognition of the sound of Nicky's heartbeat. I expected "there it is!" from the ultrasound tech. What I got was silence. Several uncomfortable minutes of silence. Is everything ok?. Had they missed something? I just had an ultrasound last month! I feared that they found some sort of birth defect that they missed last time. The only thing she said to me was "I need to get the doctor" and she walked out of the room.
That's when I started to cry. Rodolfo told me not to worry, that everything would be fine. It wasn't. My doctor came in, briefly looked at the ultrasound and said to me "I'm sorry, Jaclyn, he just stopped growing". It took me a second to realize that she didn't just mean that he was too small. He had stopped growing because he died. I fucking lost it. I sobbed hysterically for the next 20 minutes or so. The doctor left the room to give me and my husband a few minutes alone. I called my mom and blubbered into the phone "HE DIED MOM, HE DIED". I was so hysterical that I had to say it half a dozen times before she could understand me.
At that point I was told I needed to make a decision about how I wanted to proceed. I could have labor induced. No, definitely not. I wasn't ready, I was terrified. I couldn't spend the next day in the maternity ward, laboring with my dead child. I couldn't. My only other option was a D&E. I said yes without really knowing what it was. I was then given medicine to dilate my cervix and told to be at the hospital the next morning for my surgery. My doctor offered her condolences. I asked if she had an idea as to why this happened. She said she could run some tests but that with a D&E there is only "tissue" and it can be hard to know for sure. That's when I realized that what they meant was that they would rip my baby apart and pull him out of me in pieces. It was absolutely horrific to think about.
I went home and was in shock for the rest of the day. I sat on my couch and didn't even cry. I just stared into space and didn't know what to do. It occurred to me that maybe I made the wrong choice, but for some reason I didn't feel like I could change it now. I thought maybe I could bring on labor and my son would be born before the D&E. So I walked. I took my dog and my husband and walked to the ice cream shop a mile from my house. As it turned out, that did put me into labor.
I was given painkillers and took some as my labor got progressively harder to handle. By midnight I was waking up every 5 minutes or so with contractions. By 2am I didn't know how much more I could take. I called my doctor and she told me I only had a few more hours till I had to be at the hospital and asked if I thought I could make it. So I stayed home till 6am, then made my way over. By that point I was having contractions every 2 minutes or so. I remember waiting in the lobby of the hospital for my husband to park the car and thinking that I didn't yet look pregnant enough for anyone to realize I was in labor. People probably just thought I was whiny and fat. By the time we made it up to the surgery floor, I was begging for painkillers and told them I needed a wheelchair because I simply couldn't walk anymore.
The operating rooms were running behind and my contractions came fast and hard. I begged for meds that never came. My nurse was warm and comforting and promised that she would get me something as soon as she spoke to my doctor. When they were finally ready to bring me in for my surgery, it was after 9 am. They told me to use the bathroom before they got started and I did. I was actually wheeled into the bathroom on a gurney because I was unable to walk and having nearly constant contractions.
After that they had me get into a wheelchair and told me they were bringing me to the operating room. As I stood up I could feel the sensation that something was coming out of me. The medication I was given to dilate my cervix was in the form of medicated sponges, so I assumed that was what I felt. Nonetheless I was concerned and started shouting "something is coming out!". My nurse rushed me to the operating room, where I stood to get onto the operating table, begging them to knock me out immediately. But then I saw the sponges on the floor. I turned to look at them and my water broke. It was brown. Meconium. Fetal distress. It made me wonder if he suffered at all. It made me so sad.
A moment later, I was looking at my son. He had fallen out of me and onto the operating room floor. The nurses and my doctor all yelled at me that I shouldn't look, but I wanted to see him. I told them to please bring me my child. I saw him for a moment. He had my husband's lips but he looked like me in every other way. Then my doctor told me they would still be doing a D&C, because it was very common for the placenta to stay attached at such an early stage of pregnancy. As they brought the gas mask to my face, I just remember saying "I want my husband to see him". She told me she would try...that wasn't good enough. I looked at the nurse right in front of me and told her firmly "I want my husband to see him". She said ok and then I was out.
I don't remember the surgery at all. I didn't even have the recognition of time passing. I woke up in another room with no idea how I got there. I woke up in a clean, dry gown (as I went under, I was wet with amniotic fluid and shivering cold) with no idea who saw me naked. It was a very strange sensation. Rodolfo was there waiting for me to wake up. A few minutes later, they brought us our son.
He was on a fluffy white surface- maybe a blanket, I'm not really sure. I remember how tiny he was- only 9 ounces I would later find out. He looked like a doll. He was mostly wrapped up, so I spent a few minutes looking at his perfect face, then I took his hand and compared it to mine. His entire hand was the size of the tip of my thumb. I was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture in the background. I held him for a few minutes, then kissed him goodbye 3 times on his forehead. That was the last time I ever saw my son.
When I look at his picture now, as I sometimes do, I'm shocked at how he looked... he was purple and covered in blood. That's not how I remember him at all. He was angelic, perfect. It was unfathomable to me at the time that he wasn't just sleeping or something. He looked exactly like I pictured he would. My nose and cheeks, my husband's lips. I always pictured him with hair, but he was too young to have any yet, so that's all I can say I was surprised by, that he was bald. I wish I had taken more time to look over his whole body... to see his tiny legs and feet and butt. To take more detailed pictures of him. The ones I have are blurry and at an odd angle. I wish I would have given him a bath and maybe put a little hat on him so I could have something concrete to hold onto and say "this belonged to my son". All I have now are 2 blurry pictures and the few outfits that were the first I chose for him. And pictures of the things I registered for that I imagined he would love and use for his entire babyhood. I have so little... I have to truly cherish those few reminders.
I've felt like a mother ever since that day, March 20, 2009. It's odd because outsiders don't see you that way. If my child had lived even one day outside of my body, if he had grabbed my finger or smiled at me even once.. if I had one picture of him when he was alive, it would be so different in the eyes of everyone else.
I guess I can say that, up to that day, I had been lucky in not ever losing someone who was very close to me. So I can't really compare the loss of my son to anything else, but I can say that with the overwhelming grief came a crushing sense of guilt and responsibility. I tried to remind myself that I wasn't to blame, and now I can see it with a little more perspective. But the truth is that it's hard to see it any other way. I was the one and only person charged with caring for him and ensuring he was safe. I was the one who noticed he was moving less and didn't want to seem like one of those paranoid pregnant ladies so I never called my doctor. I was the one who left him on the floor of the operating room instead of picking him up like I wish I would have. There are just so many regrets, so much lost.
Today I have Caitlyn and she is amazing. The fear that something will happen to her never leaves me, and was especially terrifying during my pregnancy. But at least now I can look at her and know she's ok. I think of Nicholas every day. Each night I ask him to watch over his baby sister. I don't feel overwhelmingly sad every day anymore, but it's the little things that hurt the most. As I watch Caitlyn grow, I'll sometimes picture a boy version of her and know that I'm missing my Nicky. I think of how she won't ever know her big brother. As Halloween approaches, I imagine them in coordinating costumes. The reality is that if Nicholas had been born when he was supposed to, I wouldn't have ever been pregnant with Caitlyn. But I can't think of it like that. When I imagine how our life would be different if our son had lived, I don't imagine a boy instead of a girl. I imagine them both, very close in age as would have been the case if I had gotten pregnant again right away, growing up together.
So on this day, I wanted to talk about the child I lost. The child who has just as big a piece of my heart as Caitlyn does. The child I only ever got to kiss goodbye. He's mine and I'm his. And I miss him every day. I wanted to recognize that lost piece of my life. As with any mother, I think he was perfect and beautiful and special. He liked Skittles and sleeping late. He was here, if only for a moment and I want people to know him.
Below I'm going to include his photo. I don't have any pictures of him alive, unfortunately, so please be prepared for what you will see if you choose to look at these pictures. I don't think it's weird but it may make some people uncomfortable to look at them.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Maternal Instinct! ...Paternal Instinct?
We all know that mom's just KNOW. Whether you needed a shoulder to cry on or you were standing in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open for the millionth time even though she always yelled at you for it, somehow, our moms had that instinct. That we needed her, that we were in trouble, that we were lying. It never made sense to me as a kid. Now that I'm a mom myself, I can see everything involving Caitlyn with laser focus.
At first, it's the hormones. Your body knows what your baby needs from minute one. If you tried to actually think about everything your baby needs from you from the moment they are born, your head would probably explode because it seems so overwhelming at first. The first few weeks of Caitlyn's life, I was surprised by the way my body just took over. My boobs went to work, gradually making more milk as Caitlyn needed it. They would leak if she cried, if I held her or smelled her. My boobs knew what their job was.
Even my sleeping patterns changed. Caitlyn was never what I would call a fussy baby, and even her first night home from the hospital she slept 4 or 5 hours at a time. But my body wouldn't let me go into a deep sleep. I was exhausted. I should have been out cold. Normally, I'm a heavy sleeper, nothing wakes me. But from the minute Caitlyn came home, just the sound of her moving around even a little bit is enough to wake me up. That actually surprised me. I feared that she would scream for hours before it woke me up.
Like I said, the physical changes were automatic and immediate. But now I notice a different kind of instinct. Maybe not even instinct necessarily. I think part of it is a hyper-awareness of every little thing Caitlyn does and wants and needs. Or maybe that's exactly what instinct is. My point is that I know her and I can anticipate her needs and moods with surprising accuracy. If she's fussy I can look at her or listen to her cry and know exactly what she wants. I notice the nuances of her personality and the subtlest things seem ridiculously obvious to me. I can even do it over the phone. If my husband or sister calls me while I'm working and tells me that Caitlyn is fussy, I can have them tell me what she did in the last couple of hours and pick up on what's bothering her in a second.
This is not a special talent or anything. I'm pretty sure every mom has it. The thing that I find odd is that my husband has no sort of paternal instincts, it would seem. I mean, the instinct to keep her safe and to love her are there, of course. But nothing else seems easy to him. When she cries, he doesn't know why or what to do. He doesn't even have an idea. If a bottle or a diaper change doesn't fix the problem, he's at a loss. And even when those things do work, he's pretty much just blindly trying to find a fix. He can't look at her and hear her cry and say "oh, she's hungry", he doesn't notice that she shields her eyes from the light when she's tired. He doesn't recognize her annoyed cry when nobody is paying attention to her and all she wants is someone to play with. And when he can't figure it out, he gets frustrated and gives up. His logic is "she is fed and changed and she is still crying. I've done all I can and eventually she will stop if I just leave her alone for a while". He actually does the same thing to me when we are fighting. He thinks if he ignores the problem it will go away. After 5 years, you would think he would realize that chicks just don't operate that way. Ignoring us only pisses us off even more.
And there are other little things I notice too. She's about to be 5 months old. Every aspect of our existence for the last 5 months has revolved around filling the needs of this tiny human being. Her needs are pretty straightforward. The bottom line is to keep her comfortable. That means fed, clean, amused and not in any pain.
The other night I came home from work and he tells me she's been crying for the last hour. I pick her up and she is sweating. It was one of those nights before the temperature dropped back down, when the humidity was super high and we were waiting on a storm front. It was roughly 80 degrees in my house. Caitlyn was in a long sleeved sleeper with a onesie underneath. Isn't that just common sense? He has this idea in his head that she's running like 10 degrees cooler than an adult for some reason. Even when I stripped her down to her onesie, flipped on the air-conditioner and had her calm and comfy within 5 minutes, he argued with me that she was "too cold".
And he doesn't know what kind of wipes to get her. I sent him to the store the other day because we were running out. I'm not particularly picky about most things, but I've consistently used the same wipes for the last 4 and a half months because most wipes give her a rash. So he comes back and he's got the wrong ones. "She will be fine, just use these". And now she has a rash, of course. I guess I don't understand how he doesn't know. It's been 5 MONTHS!
I don't know where I was going with this exactly. I guess I just find it sort of strange, because mothering my child isn't something I had to think about ever. It just happens. Is it just him, or is this a guy thing? Tell me my husband isn't just an emotional retard.
At first, it's the hormones. Your body knows what your baby needs from minute one. If you tried to actually think about everything your baby needs from you from the moment they are born, your head would probably explode because it seems so overwhelming at first. The first few weeks of Caitlyn's life, I was surprised by the way my body just took over. My boobs went to work, gradually making more milk as Caitlyn needed it. They would leak if she cried, if I held her or smelled her. My boobs knew what their job was.
Even my sleeping patterns changed. Caitlyn was never what I would call a fussy baby, and even her first night home from the hospital she slept 4 or 5 hours at a time. But my body wouldn't let me go into a deep sleep. I was exhausted. I should have been out cold. Normally, I'm a heavy sleeper, nothing wakes me. But from the minute Caitlyn came home, just the sound of her moving around even a little bit is enough to wake me up. That actually surprised me. I feared that she would scream for hours before it woke me up.
Like I said, the physical changes were automatic and immediate. But now I notice a different kind of instinct. Maybe not even instinct necessarily. I think part of it is a hyper-awareness of every little thing Caitlyn does and wants and needs. Or maybe that's exactly what instinct is. My point is that I know her and I can anticipate her needs and moods with surprising accuracy. If she's fussy I can look at her or listen to her cry and know exactly what she wants. I notice the nuances of her personality and the subtlest things seem ridiculously obvious to me. I can even do it over the phone. If my husband or sister calls me while I'm working and tells me that Caitlyn is fussy, I can have them tell me what she did in the last couple of hours and pick up on what's bothering her in a second.
This is not a special talent or anything. I'm pretty sure every mom has it. The thing that I find odd is that my husband has no sort of paternal instincts, it would seem. I mean, the instinct to keep her safe and to love her are there, of course. But nothing else seems easy to him. When she cries, he doesn't know why or what to do. He doesn't even have an idea. If a bottle or a diaper change doesn't fix the problem, he's at a loss. And even when those things do work, he's pretty much just blindly trying to find a fix. He can't look at her and hear her cry and say "oh, she's hungry", he doesn't notice that she shields her eyes from the light when she's tired. He doesn't recognize her annoyed cry when nobody is paying attention to her and all she wants is someone to play with. And when he can't figure it out, he gets frustrated and gives up. His logic is "she is fed and changed and she is still crying. I've done all I can and eventually she will stop if I just leave her alone for a while". He actually does the same thing to me when we are fighting. He thinks if he ignores the problem it will go away. After 5 years, you would think he would realize that chicks just don't operate that way. Ignoring us only pisses us off even more.
And there are other little things I notice too. She's about to be 5 months old. Every aspect of our existence for the last 5 months has revolved around filling the needs of this tiny human being. Her needs are pretty straightforward. The bottom line is to keep her comfortable. That means fed, clean, amused and not in any pain.
The other night I came home from work and he tells me she's been crying for the last hour. I pick her up and she is sweating. It was one of those nights before the temperature dropped back down, when the humidity was super high and we were waiting on a storm front. It was roughly 80 degrees in my house. Caitlyn was in a long sleeved sleeper with a onesie underneath. Isn't that just common sense? He has this idea in his head that she's running like 10 degrees cooler than an adult for some reason. Even when I stripped her down to her onesie, flipped on the air-conditioner and had her calm and comfy within 5 minutes, he argued with me that she was "too cold".
And he doesn't know what kind of wipes to get her. I sent him to the store the other day because we were running out. I'm not particularly picky about most things, but I've consistently used the same wipes for the last 4 and a half months because most wipes give her a rash. So he comes back and he's got the wrong ones. "She will be fine, just use these". And now she has a rash, of course. I guess I don't understand how he doesn't know. It's been 5 MONTHS!
I don't know where I was going with this exactly. I guess I just find it sort of strange, because mothering my child isn't something I had to think about ever. It just happens. Is it just him, or is this a guy thing? Tell me my husband isn't just an emotional retard.
Labels:
husbands are stupid,
parenting
Friday, October 1, 2010
Breakfast
Caitlyn and I have a pretty well established routine on days that I'm off or closing. We've basically been doing it since she was a month old, when Rodolfo's parents went back home. It goes like this: she will wake up around 8am or so, I'll feed her and we will play for an hour or two. After that she's ready for a nap. On those late days, we nap together. It's one of my favorite things. We cuddle up in my bed and sleep for an hour or so. It reminds me a little bit of when I was pregnant with her... we are all smooshed together and warm and cozy. I sleep SO good during my naps with Caitlyn. I hope she doesn't grow out of nap time with Mommy any time soon.
Today I didn't have to be in till 1:30pm, so Caitlyn and I took our regular nap together. I remember thinking as I was dozing off how her eating habits have changed. Since we started solids a few weeks ago, she is becoming less and less interested in drinking milk. She was drinking 5 or 6 ounces at a feeding, and now I'm lucky if I can get her to drink 3 or 4. I mean, it makes sense. Solid food is more filling, obviously. What always makes me worry is her first feeding though. When she gets up in the morning, I give her a bottle. She doesn't get solid food till after our nap. You would think after sleeping for 7 or 8 hours she would want to eat her entire bottle, but she just can't be bothered with it. My point isn't necessarily that I'm concerned. I'm all about letting her figure out what she needs (to the extent that a baby can do that, of course) and not trying to push her to do everything the way I imagine it should go. My point, really, is just that all this was going through my head as I was dozing off.
Caitlyn's food preferences must have leaked into my subconcious because I had a
dream that we had gotten up from our nap and I was preparing her cereal. I was talking to her like I always do, and I asked her if she was ready for her breakfast. Then she said "breakfast"... actually, to be accurate, she said "breafest". At this point in the dream my mom was standing next to me and I turned to her and said "did she just say breakfast?". Then I kept telling Caitlyn to say it again, and she did a couple more times. Then it occurred to me that "breakfast" really shouldn't be her first word and I kept trying to get her to say Mama.In real life, she's obviously not ready to start talking yet, but actually this isn't the first time I had a dream like this. And she never says Mama. I'm going to be super disappointed if her first word is anything other then her asking for me. My own mother is convinced that her first attempt at mimicking a sound is going to be her barking back at the dog. She's probably right too.
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