I am having an issue with my teeth. I’ve always had sensitive teeth (one time I was SURE I had cavaties because they were hurting, went to the dentist just to be told my teeth were in perfect shape and I apparently had sensitive teeth. Yay, but… ow!). I normally have sensitivity to hot and cold, and pain when eating really sticky sweet things like caramel (I no longer eat caramel because of it… bummer). But for the past week it has gone past “sensitive” to “majorly fucking crazy sensitive.” I told Den about my teeth and he asked if it was triggered by sweets, hot/cold or pressure… I replied, “Ummm, all of the above?” I am currently having issues eating toast. Toast, people! It also isn’t located in one particular spot in my mouth…. it’s my left side, my right side, the top, the bottom… everything hurts. Even when I’m not eating, everything is aching.

This, combined with the throat thing that’s been bugging me for a week (post-nasal drip causing a sore throat and cough, blech yuck), is making me think something more is going on. From reading it sounds like sinusitis, how lovely. May need to make a trip to the doctor, bugger. Couldn’t just be a regular cold, noooo, my sinuses need to be all fucked up.

Ooeeeeee the teeth are really hurting tonight.

::

Someone sent me this link to an old old post of Tertia’s about IVF Barbies. Reading it gave me a chuckle. I was thinking about it for a while and realized it’s missing some: IVF After A Loss and Pregnant After A Loss Barbie. At first glance you might think they’re the same as the Veteran Barbies…. but they’re not. They know all the steps – they’ve been there before. But they’re more sad than angry. When once they were simply intolerant of Newbie Barbie and Pregnant Newbie Barbie and their idealism, now they watch sadly and wish they could be ignorant and idealistic again. They wish they believed in babydust and still believed that doing everything right meant IVF worked and you got a baby at the end of a pregnancy. Even Pregnant Veteran Barbie with her paranoias and fears seems so innocent to Pregnant After A Loss Barbie.

I’ve been thinking a lot about categories – being on forums with their neatly defined subforums seems to do that to a person. I have noticed that right now there are very few forums that I seem to fit well in… only one, actually. It’s a quiet forum for those who have had a stillbirth. Now I really hate the “my pain is worse than your pain” game, but at the same time I have noticed a huge difference between the stillbirth forum and the general loss forum (both on the same site, with some posters that frequent both). There just seems to be a degree of soul-wrenching sorrow that the women of the stillbirth forum carry that is not present in the general forum (with exceptions, of course). I know that it is situational and personal, dependent on the variety of people who frequent that particular forum.

I did peek in at the TTC after a loss subforum and quickly hightailed it out of there. More perky babydust than I ever wanted to shove up my ass, thanks. I am far too cynical for that crap anymore. (Though I do not begrudge those who enjoy that atmosphere. It’s just not for me.) There is an infertility forum, but I feel so far removed from those Newbie Barbies that I would just feel weird. Especially since I’m not even doing treatments anytime soon.

Some stillbirth forums I’ve peeked in on don’t even seem right to me. That soul-wrenching sorrow? There’s a point where there’s just too much. There are some forums that I feel like, if I stayed there it would not help the healing process because you’re constantly getting bogged down by your emotions in a very heavy way. Yes, my heart hurts very deeply and no I don’t want to be around the uberperky. But at the same time there has to be some sort of balance.

I just feel very out of place in so many ways. It’ll take while to find a new equilibrium.

Dearest Baby Boy,

Today you would be 4 weeks old. I really can’t believe the time has gone by so fast, though it’s no wonder… so much of it has been a haze. Days are all fading into one another. Honestly I don’t like to think about how old you would be. It makes me think of what we should have had, and I really don’t like to think about that. I don’t like to sit and wonder what I’d be doing right now, what you would be like. I prefer to think of what I had. You’ll always be my sleeping baby boy to me, so small and perfect. You’ll always be that devilish little boy who kicked me from the inside and hid from everyone else.

If there was a heaven, I think you’d have stopped at the Rainbow Bridge to stay with Tessa. You would have been like your daddy and me, I’m sure, in love with doggies and wanting to stay where they are. I could see you two playing together, she’d have loved you and looked out for you. I was so sad when she died, knowing that you’d never get to meet her. Little did I know.

Last Sunday your daddy and I went to the lawn & garden store and picked out your tree, a Danube Cherry Tree. Today I went back to buy the dragon I saw there… I saw him and just fell in love, he reminded me of you. He’s going to guard the base of your tree beside your memorial stone marker (which we haven’t picked out yet). This coming Sunday family is going to come over to help us plant the tree.

I’ve been editing photos and purchasing frames so that everything can be on display on Sunday. I have your photo and some of me with my big belly that I’m going to frame. I find myself just staring at the photos sometimes, remembering… especially my pregnancy photos. They represent such a happy time with you. So very happy.

I miss you every single day. Friends gave me a necklace with your name and birth stats on it, and I wear it constantly so you stay with me. We love you, baby boy. Sleep peacefully.

At this point I just really don’t know what’s going on with my body.

Well Tuesday I talked to a dentist friend of mine who said without a doubt that the teeth pain I am having is from clenching in my sleep. She said it’s very common, especially in times of high stress – hmmmm, wonder if I am having a stressful time lately. And afterwards I remembered that on Monday I had woken up from a bad dream (involving babies, yes), so it’s no doubt that I had really clenched that night and caused horrific pain all day. They still do hurt, but I have been catching myself doing now that I know to watch for it so today they are hurting FAR less. If it continues I may have to go to the dentist to get fitted for a tooth guard thing to prevent me from doing it (but I’m pretty sure our insurance wouldn’t cover much, if any). She also said that sensitive teeth is caused by clenching, so I’ve been doing it for years…. just not to the extreme degree that I have recently. I was all like… wow, that would have been nice info to have 4 years ago when I went to the dentist (in Canada) complaining about wicked sensitive teeth. A lot more helpful than, “You just have sensitive teeth. Nothing we can do.”

So that explains one thing, but today now my stomach is hurting. WTF? And at this point I can’t even tell what is hurting… I think it’s my stomach, but everything’s moved around so much in there that I can’t freaking tell. Sort of feels like hunger pains… but I feel them even after I eat. I’m sure it’s related to how everything is moving around in there, flopping around aimlessly now that there’s no huge uterus squashing things into my ribs. Maybe it simply doesn’t know what to do with itself and is having panic attacks. I wouldn’t blame it. (Though I do wonder why it has started now, 4 weeks post-partum. Delayed reaction?)

My mom is arriving tomorrow (errr… today). We’ll see how this goes… and if I have time to post much. Or play my game (World of Warcraft). I am addicted. Yay.

Apparently a cat laying on my chest, purring and kneading his paws will still make me leak milk a little bit, even at 4 weeks PP when the boobs have been back to “normal” (ie, soft and a little saggier than they were before) for weeks.

My mom arrived today and it has been good.

At one point she brought out something and said, “I really don’t know if I should give this to you…” She looked so torn. It was a scrapbook of my pregnancy that she had been working on all the way through. She said she didn’t get the last couple photos in it, she couldn’t bring herself to do it now (at least not yet). So we both cried as I looked through it. Oh how happy memories can hurt so much.

So then we just sat and talked…. babies and friends and labor and pregnancy and even a little religion.

She told me all about all the people – some I know, some I don’t – who send their condolences and prayers. This has been such a hugely far-reaching tragedy. I am most impressed by how very deeply people react. Mom says people I don’t even know, like my parents’ neighbors and women in my mom’s social groups, are crying when she tells them the news. I feel like the entire world is weeping for us – more people than I ever could have imagined.

Everyone I talk to about Devin has mentioned that, by talking about Devin to others, they are finding more and more people who have suffered through a similar thing. Everyone seems shocked at how often it happens, and at how many people they know have had a baby die. My mom said a neighbor, after finding out about our loss, insisted mom come inside and sit down for a drink, and told mom she had lost a child in stillbirth. An older woman my mom has known since childhood shared that she had two third-trimester losses before they had their living daughter. It leaves everyone feeling a little stunned, I think… realizing that this really happens to people they know.

I am just so glad that these women share their stories. I think it’s helped my mom a little bit to know that others have gone through this too… I know it helps me. And, just like with infertility, the more that people hear about it the better they will understand when they run across it…. the more compassion and insight they will have. I can’t help but think about 20 years ago when no one mentioned it, when it was swept under the rug. I think about how very aweful it must have felt to have such a huge loss ignored… how very alone they must have felt.

::

I am still dealing with jaw/teeth issues. I have been feeling it in my actual jaw rather than my teeth, though my teeth still hurt. I can feel how tight it all is, I keep massaging the area and fake-yawning in an effort to get it to relax. I am carrying SO much tension and I don’t really know how to get it to release.

My stomach is still bothering me. It honestly feels just like when you go far too long without eating… when you are so hungry it physically hurts. It’s the whole area above my belly button and below my ribs. Except this doen’t go away when I eat. It’s being problematic, because I keep eating in an effort to feel better. It’s my knee-jerk reaction, to wander into the kitchen and eat something. But eating isn’t all that easy either… things just don’t sit well and the aching in my stomach continues, combined with the food I just ate, and it makes me feel a little bit like puking. So yeah, I’m starting to think the idea of it being “simply” stress is a pretty good one.

Another strange occurrence: one morning when I was still in bed I could feel my heart start thumping. It didn’t speed up, it actually seemed to slow down… but it was like I could feel each pulse shake my chest. Thump…….. thump……… thump.

I remarked to Den today that it’s not really surprizing that I am having so many different body/health issues. I am normally such a healthy person – I really don’t get sick very often – but everything is so strained right now, all this emotional weight I’ve been carrying… I am not surprized it’s manifesting itself in strange ways.

In regards to anxiety and medication: I am currently on celexa for my depression, but that may need to be adjusted (though I don’t think it does, as the depression is in check) or another medication added. Despite being medicated for 6 years now I am really not a fan of medication unless it’s really necessary… managing my depression is most definitely necessary, there is a hormonal imbalance in my body. This anxiety (if it is anxiety) is due to circumstance, not a brain short-circuit. I realy wonder if medicating would be any more than a stop-gap measure to get me through. So if possible I would like to find ways of dealing with the stress. Exercise, heathy eating, yoga, meditation… I don’t know. I’ll try some things.

It’s really kind of weird if this all really is some form of anxiety. My depression is not just depression… it has a lot of different aspects to it, and one of them is anxiety. When I’m not on my medication I get really anxious about things being “right” or “not right” and feeling like the universe is out of alignment, in a manner of speaking. Everything upsets me and makes me anxious, which leads to feeling depressed. I also used to have panic attacks, though they were infrequent.

But this? Whatever this is, it’s nothing like what I’m used to. Anxiety, to me, is a mental/emotional thing… and I don’t have that. I have a deep, deep sadness… sorrow… grief. But no panic. No typical anxiety or depression. Whatever this is is coming out purely in physical symptoms.

Tomorrow is my due date. Saturday was always the start of a new week. I haven’t really been thinking much about that (maybe just intentionally not thinking about it) but I’m sitting here tonight wondering if that’s part of what’s getting to me, why everything is bad right now. I’m not conciously thinking about it, but I wonder if it’s sitting in my subconcious. I’ll see if things get better after this weekend, then figure out what I want to do about it if it doesn’t.

::

Tonight was dinner with friends. It went… okay.

I decided last-minute to get some mudslides to drink while there. They tasted good and I ended up drinking four of them in very short order. On purpose. And to be fair, for a while there I felt a little hazy in a good way, like things didn’t matter so much. (Before that I had felt just too serious for the conversations that were going on… I don’t know, just a little antisocial.) So that was good. Food was excellent.

But then it went bad. I went to the bathroom upstairs and on the way back down I just stopped in the stairwell. The sounds of conversation and laughter from the kitchen just seemed so very very wrong to my ears. It had been an evening without Devin being mentioned (though to be fair no one had mentioned SIL’s pregnancy either, so it’s not like Devin was being specifically ignored) and at that moment it all just felt so very wrong. Life shouldn’t just be going on like normal while I hurt so very much inside. I did go back into the kitchen, but my stomach started feeling unwell so I went back up to the bathroom, thinking I might be sick. Instead I ended up sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, bawling. Den came looking for me and found me there. He sat with me for a while, gathered me against his chest as I cried it out.

The rest of the evening was fine. I felt better after I had cried. Better… but still felt withdrawn and quiet. Conversation went on. Someone asked how I was doing, I said simply, “Not good.” Some sympathetic words were said. It helped a little.

Days like today I just really wonder if I’m ever going to be able to find true joy again. I feel a lot of things… great, deep love for my husband… amusement at my pets… thankfulness for my friends. But will I ever feel joy again? Pure, unmitigated joy, without the cut of sorrow through it? My heart feels so heavy I don’t know if it will ever be able to fully pick itself off the ground.

I am getting very nervous and emotional about the memorial tomorrow, about a lot of things. I never really thought it would all matter so much, but suddenly it really does matter a whole lot. Everything matters.

Yesterday I realized that I am not handling gatherings of people very well. Having a couple over is fine, I can sit and talk and cry and I feel good when they leave. But groups of people are just too much, apparently. I explained to my mom that with one-on-one conversations I’m half the input and people seem much more aware of where I am emotionally. I’m able to connect with the person and talk about Devin and it’s a positive experience. Being in a gathering of people yesterday just felt very overwhelming. Conversation between other people seemed so meaningless. I just don’t care enough to contribute to group chit-chat, so I sit or stand alone. And it’s not like the conversation was offensive or that anyone was doing anything disrespectful. It’s simply that I am not at a place yet to be able to function like that.

The timing really sucked though, because today I’m sitting there realizing that tomorrow, for the memorial, we have a bunch of people coming over. I started to worry. What if it’s like yesterday? What if people just chit-chat and I feel like I want to scream? I’m suddenly really nervous about it. Den mentioned that his nieces are coming and I’m really unsure about that. They’re only 7 – I love them to death, but tomorrow I’m going to be a mess, almost guaranteed. Are they going to be able to really understand? I don’t want to have to worry about being appropriate for children. I can’t see anything that would be inappropriate, but who knows at this point.

I also feel a little sad that we are having so many people over for this important time and it’s almost entirely Den’s family. I’m glad my mom is here. Like I told my mom, it’s not like I don’t like Den’s family or anything, and it’s not like I expect any of my family to come – it’s just a side-effect of me living here.

Den and I had a disagreement about Devin’s photo and the other things I’m going to have on display. It wasn’t an argument or anything – it was just one of those times were you think you’re on the same page, but realize in a conversation that you aren’t.

I intended to have a table set up with all of Devin’s things and photos and everything. I can’t fully explain why, but I just know that it is supremely important to me that everyone sees them. I want people to see his photo. I want them to know him, to appreciate him. I don’t give a damn if they even say anything to me, I just want them to know what a beautiful boy he was, to realize what a huge loss this is. Everyone here online has read my story, has followed along and understands everything we went through. Family and real-life friends haven’t.

But Den, he is uncomfortable with that sort of thing. His idea for the memorial was to plant a tree and eat food. He doesn’t have this need to talk about Devin like I do, or to share his things. He mentioned concerned about putting it all out “in peoples’ faces.” I know he worries that some people will feel very uncomfortable with looking at Devin’s photo, and he mentioned the fact that kids will be there.

I admit, I am having a hard time feeling concerned about how others might react in this particular instance. The fact that people may feel uncomfortable doesn’t seem to register in my brain as something of importance. In any other case, at any other time, I would be preoccupied with that too. But this weekend I am feeling like an emotional basketcase. It’s my due date. This is Devin’s memorial. People are coming to support us in our grieving process. So yeah, I’m feeling extremely selfish and simply not caring. I’m doing this for me, and I admit that. And besides, I think to myself that this is a memorial, people know it’s a memorial, it is not going to be comfortable. Like Den has told me in the past (when I complained about going to a funeral) that you go to a funeral to show support for the grieving people. Not because it’s something you want to do, they are inherently uncomfortable. (I will never complain about going to a funeral ever again, I get it now. I get how important it is.)

That being said, my husband is grieving too and the last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable tomorrow. It’s not a bad thing that he wants things different than I do, I am not upset with him about it or anything, that’s simply not his way of grieving and coping and I respect that. He said he’s absolutely fine with me putting out everything I want to, he just prefers it to be in an adjoining room, not right where everyone is going to be sitting. That way we can let people know it’s all there to view if they want to, and if someone really is uncomfortable or upset by it they can just not look. It’s not my first choice, but as long as everything will be out and available, then I’m okay with it. So that’s what we’re going to do.

We’ve told people to come over between 5 and 5:30. We hope to have dinner ready at 6, and the tree planting will be at 7 – specifically at 7 because Devin was born at 6:58.

I created a page on this site, located on the sidebar under Pregnancy as “In Memoriam.” I put Devin’s photo there, along with some other special things.

Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers this weekend. I feel like I need them.

I cannot explain to you how healing today was. I never woud have expected it to be like this, and I certainly didn’t think that tonight I’d be going to sleep in peace. But I am.

The day started with a long list of things to do. I like my lists, which is a good thing since I’ve been feeling extremely scatter-brained lately. There was food to cook and a house to clean, and of course Devin’s stuff to get ready. My mom took over a lot of the cooking prep, allowing me to fidget with the photos and get everything set up just right. I somehow managed to get the rest of the list completed too, with everyone helping out.

Mom and I took a drive to pick up some food ingredients from SIL and to Walmart with the intention of buying a folding card table and some folding chairs for extra seating. We ended up driving home with a very large, very heavy box in the back of my car containing a table and chairs set – it wasn’t that much more expensive and certainly looked nicer than folding chairs. Unfortunately Den wasn’t as thrilled with this purchase, as he spent the next several hours swearing at them as he put it all together. Folding chairs are a lot less stressful in that aspect. (I apologised to him several times – I did not think that one through!) But they do look good.

The new table is what I used for all Devin’s stuff. We ended up opening up the breezeway (it gets closed off during winter, as it has poor insulation and no heating) and putting that all out there. It’s right beside the kitchen, so it’s certainly accessible and even viewable from the kitchen itself, but it’s off the beaten path so people wouldn’t be forced to hang out there if they didn’t want to. On the table I put almost everything I had: the photo of Devin, some of me pregnant, his big ultrasound photo, the certificate of life, his hand/footprints, and some ornament gifts we were given including a Willow Tree figurine. Then I also added a binder with those scrapbook pages mom made of my pregnancy, and a blanket that Kel had given me for Devin… I love that blanket, and I keep it in his memory box now. I also had flowers on there that a friend had delivered to me a couple of days ago so they’d be here for the memorial – so thoughtful of her.

MIL was first to show up, as planned, and she helped Den with putting together the chairs, picking out where the tree would be planted, and digging the hole. At one point she was looking at Devin’s handprints and footprints with my mom. She put her hand over Devin’s little handprint, as if measuring, taking in how tiny it is. She commented on how long his little feet were. My mom said, “His hands too – long and skinny just like Natalie’s.”

As people started arriving I noticed a pattern: the couple would come in, both would give us hugs and say hi to everyone who was here. Then Den would take the male downstairs to show off the progress on the room down there while the female would find her way into the breezeway to look at the memorial table, read through the scrapbook, and talk to me. L and D (girlfriends of two of Den’s brothers) both gave me a big hug and told me how strong I am, how they simply imagine what I’m going through. SMIL and MIL had a conversation with me about how wonderful my mom’s scrapbook is and how perfect the lyrics I’d printed out were. MIL asked me about Devin’s photo, said that it was wonderful that someone had touched it up for me so that it’s something I feel good looking at.

When BIL and SIL arrived they gave us a gift bag – a small windchime that says, “Angels watch over me.” Beautiful. I went in and put it on the table with the other momentos, but SIL hung back in the kitchen instead of following me in. I wasn’t sure why she didn’t come in, but of I didn’t want to force anything if she was uncomfortable or the timing wasn’t right. Later on in the evening SIL asked me if she could see the memorial table. She said she wasn’t sure if I wanted people going in there. I was so relieved to realize that she hadn’t gone in out of respect for me, not a lack of desire. I of course told her to go on in.

Conversation wasn’t about Devin all night, and I didn’t mind that…. it felt so different from the chit-chat of friday night, even though when I think about it I know it really wasn’t. But everyone knew why they were here tonight. Even when it wasn’t taked about, it was there in the air. Though that doesn’t mean that people were hesitant and avoiding topics. I think that’s why it felt so okay for me – nothing was avoided or skirted around. If Devin came up, he was taked about. If SIL’s pregnancy came up, it was too. It didn’t feel like anyonoe was uncomfortable or unsure, and that was a relief.

So I moved from group to group, just kind of poking in and listening, sometimes joining. My feet ached, but I didn’t feel like I could sit down for long. I wanted to move, I wanted to talk. Frequently I would look over at Devin’s table and just stare, or wander in there to look at everything. I was like a mother hen, constantly checking on it. It was a place of peace for me. Even when others would get teary looking over things, I just felt peaceful. There was a kind of healing in seeing others get misty over his things. That was what I needed, that was what I was looking for today. No bawling, few words. Just a tear and a hug that says more than any words could do. I hurt too. I guess that’s what memorials are about: sharing in the sorrow together.

Food was really good today, I was very pleased with how everything came out. We cooked some pork tenderloins and two marinated chicken breasts. Then Den’s gram brought chilli, his mom a noodle and sourkraut dish, SIL pasta salad, L potato salad, we had rolls, and then we had brownies from step-MIL and lemon squares from SIL. It was all really good! There was plenty of food, but not overkill. My mom was great at making sure the food was all set out on the table, that there were utensils and plates and napkins available, and she even refilled the dishes when things got low. I normally kind of enjoy being the hostess in that way (even though I don’t have very much experience), but today I am just very glad that she took care of it all and I didn’t have to worry about it. I think it was honestly one of the first times that I mentally handed control of a situation to my mother and was grateful about it without continually checking on things and worrying. It was a relief.

Then Den nudged me and said, “It’s time.” He retrieved everyones coats from our bedroom and everyone filed outside. It was supposed to be nice weather today, but Saturday ended up being the bright and sunny day; today was overcast and it had started sprinkling right before 7:00. Den and MIL gave a frown and a sigh at the weather not cooperating, but I was thinking that it wasn’t such a bad thing for it to be a little rain today. I think it was rather fitting.

Everyone gathered in the yard facing the tree. I stood off to the side of the tree, my big camera hanging around my neck. I snapped two photos of the dragon. Den thanked everyone for coming, said we’re not ones for big ceremonies, but that we were planting this tree in memory of Devin. He placed the tree in the hole and started filling dirt in around the roots. There was silence except for the sounds he made. I just stood there facing the tree, lost in my thoughts, watching. I couldn’t look at everyone standing just off to my left, I didn’t want to think about how everyone was just watching. It ocurred to me that it might be a litte strange for people to be watching my husband shovel dirt into a hole around a tree. No one spoke. I cried a few silent tears as I watched him, just thinking about Devin. Him burying the roots seemed so significant to me…. I thought about Devin being buried, the finality of it all, the goodbye. About how this wasn’t how family was supposed to be gathering right now, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Den put the dragon right by the base of the tree, and told everyone how I had picked it out to guard the tree.

Then it was over and people were breaking up, moving back into the house. One of Den’s twin neices ran up to him and whispered something to him – Den nodded in reply. Mom said we should get a photo of me and Den with the tree (which I would have forgotten to do, had she not said something), and I went to get his attention. I turned around to find the neice kneeling in front of the tree, praying. I choked up a little. They get it, they understand – at least as well as they can at age 7. And I will forever remember the image of her kneeling in front of Devin’s tree. (I tried catching a picture of it, but was too late.)

As I headed towards the house I saw SIL very teared up. We hugged each other, clinging for a little while, both crying. BIL and MIL were choked up as well and gave me a big hug each. Then while I was going up the stairs Den’s uncle stepped up and gave me a very tearful a hug. He said in my ear, “I know, I’ve been there. I’ve lost one too. Thank you for letting me be here.” (His son drowned at age 2.) That connection of the bereaved. I could see the sorrow in his eyes, for himself and for us.

When I was back inside the house I found myself in front of the memorial table. I don’t even remember who was in the house or where, I just kind of walked through in a haze, wanting to lose myself in my son’s things. I picked up Devin’s photo and stood there weeping; I could barely see the photo through my tears. After a few minutes Den came in and put his arms around me. When I was done crying I wiped my cheeks and went into the kitchen. SMIL gave me a tearful hug and said, “Better days are coming.” It was the perfect thing to say.

People started leaving after that. I thanked them for coming and truly meant it. I really wasn’t sure how I would feel with a group gathering, I didn’t know how it would all go. I was very pleasantly surprized. I think we both got what we wanted out of it. I got that validation and sympathy that I was looking for, and Den got the comfort and support of family without being oppressively mournful. It was the perfect balance of memorial and celebration of life. We were all gathered in silence outside like at a funeral, but no one was wearing all black and we were planting a tree, not burying the dead. We cried in sorrow, but without collapsing in grief. Not that any of those things would be wrong, but they wouldn’t have been right for us. We found what we needed.

So tonight I sleep in peace, knowing that Devin’s life really was appreciated by those closest to us in addition to all the people online who walk beside us in spirit. There was healing that took place today… a step towards those better days ahead.

::

The table I set up.

A Willow Tree figurine, given to us by two of mom’s friends.

The sheep given to me by online friends.

Devin’s Dragon.

Den and I with the tree.

I like this quote. I’ve never thought of myself as a strong person, or a couragous person, but this quote echos what so many people have told me. Strength is simply getting up in the morning. It is trying again after you have fallen.

Many people told me that you can’t go under or over or around grief, you have to go through it. Recognizing that sentiment and actually doing it are two very different things. Of course going through grief is the only way to the other side. But what exactly does that mean? What does “through it” consist of? To me dealing with the grief means facing the things that hurt the most. I wrote in a previous post that you have to hurt to heal. But you know, if you face something enough you start to see it a different way.

Like Devin’s picture. I used to cry every time I looked at his picture, so I wouldn’t look at it very often, it hurt so much, like someone was wrenching my heart. But I would take time every day, or every other day, to pull it out and cry. Then I’d put it back in the box. Then I got to a point where I would pull it out and just stare at it. No crying, just aching. I found myself leaving his photo up on my screen and looking at it frequently, just staring at it. Then I started forgetting that it was up there, just going about my other things. It didn’t hit me in the face every time I saw it – I recognized it, but kept moving. Now I have his framed photo up in our house, and it just seems normal to be there. During the memorial I found that I wasn’t the one crying when I looked at his photo (and the other photos) – I actually realized, with some surprize, that I was smiling as others looked at it. For them it brought up all the emotions. For me I smiled with pride, thinking about how beautiful my son was. And I thougth to myself, isn’t this weird. I should be the one crying, and I’m not.

But then there are some things that get easier, but still aren’t pleasant or easy or worth putting myself through. And I guess I’m just going to have to concede to some things being not worth my effort and the sorrow it causes. I’ll try again later.

Yet sometimes the things that I think will be easy are hard, and the things I expect to be beyond my ability aren’t so bad after all. It’s strange how it works.

I know – and am very thankful – that I have been able to closely follow along with Kel’s baby boy and still feel as connected to him as I am. It has been a small blessing in all of this chaos. I decided my connection to him was due to Kel and my very close relationship as well as the circumstances of his birth.

Most pregnancy groups I had to politely step away from because of the painful reminders. After seeing a couple of happy “so-and-so is here!” posts and my resulting feeling of a knife twisting in my chest I decided it was simply too much for me to handle. I admit to feeling that way about a lot of blogs, even infertility blogs.

There is, however, one group that I have not had to step away from for more than brief periods. One small forum of infertiles, 5 or so of us due at the same time after various infertility treatments. Because there were only 5 of us we became closer than on due date groups where there are 30 or 40 of you. Also, we were all infertiles, coming from a very similar emotional space. Some of them have dealt with a lot of pain during pregnancy, some with bedrest, and yet the complaints are always minor, with a heavy dose of gratitude. That’s not to say that others are not grateful for their pregnancy, but there is a different sense of it after infertility. It’s a different way of seeing the world, for sure.

So I find myself clicking on that forum several times a day and reading along. I have a sense of I should be upset about this, yet I’m not. It’s very… weird.

It helps that I read a little about the newer groups of infertiles who got pregnant after we did, and think to myself that I could be next. That thought really pulls me through.

For those times when I am able to stick around my different pregnancy groups, I feel very thankful that everyone accepts me. I obviously stay out of any baby threads for my own sake, but I do sometimes peek into the post-partum threads and ask some questions, throw out some comments. It’s kind of nice to be fully recognized as someone who has been there, done that, even if I didn’t get to come home with the prize. I feel very lucky in that no one in any of my forums or groups online treats me like the scary elephant in the room. Conversation doesn’t stop when I speak up about my loss (you know, how everyone thinks to themselves, gosh, whatever I was going to say seems so stupid, she lost her baby… and conversation just dies?). I like being included.

::

A couple of years ago I installed a family tree program on my computer and have been inputting the facts that I know about. Mostly I did it to try to keep things straight in my head, especially with Den’s weird family tree, but I do find fact-tracking to be kind of fun. When I got pregnant I thought it was important to have history to pass down. I thought about Devin one day looking back at everything I have and appreciating it.

When Devin died I felt, like never before, a sense of how important the past is. Before that I had always been most concerned with the present – who was related to whom, and how. Now that doesn’t matter nearly as much as what could be lost. Everything I have done for Devin since his death has been with the knowledge that he is gone and it’s our memory that keeps him alive. Our children will grow up knowing their older brother through our stories, journals, photos. I started thinking about all those who have died in the family. There are people who remember them, remember their stories, but who has written them down? Who will remember when they are gone too?

When I found out mom was coming to visit I asked her to bring all her family trees and family history. She has done a lot of work in the past compiling birth and death dates and putting together a family tree for her many relatives; I only had a small piece of it. Today we sat down, the two of us, unfurled the many taped-together pages of several large family trees, and entered them into my computer program. There is so much there than I thought. I didn’t realize the size of the tree, the number of relatives that I have heard little about and never met.

More interesting to me, however, were the stories. I find that genealogy is missing so much. I love having a computer program to help me make print-outs and keep things straight in my head, but there is so much missing between the dates of birth and immigration records and marriages and re-marriages. Who will remember that my dad’s Granny Mac lived on the seaside, with a long long set of steps leading from her place to the beach, and that she was an “old english warhorse”? There is so much missing. And I want to find it all out.

I find myself holding myself a couple steps back. Things come and go in life – I read things, see things, think about things – and I hold in a breath and kind of float above it. I can feel the grief clenching in my chest but I turn away. Not right now – later. I can’t handle feeling like that all the time. I can’t handle thinking about it all the time.

So I float.

::

All I can think about is being pregnant again. That will make it better. Not “all” better – it will never be “all better.” But it will make life livable again.

There’s a part of me that is trying to stay realistic and remind myself that it could take a lot to get pregnant again, could take IVF and lots of patience and time. But I don’t want to think about that. The larger part of me keeps thinking, It has to work. It has to. It will happen soon, soon. Just a little longer. I can’t bear to think otherwise.

I think about it all the time, hoping, wishing. I think about all the people who are praying for us, who are thinking about us and hoping for us. But then I think how we all wanted Devin so very very much. A lot of good that did. No, losing Devin has certainly not made it any easier to have hope in anything.

Well, I do have hope. And it scares the shit out of me.

::

Today I went shopping with my mom for new clothes. My wardrobe is/was in some serious need. I had spent last year’s clothes “budget” on maternity clothes, which was great. But then I got un-pregnant and realized my normal clothes, they kind of suck. Some are old, some scream “young kid” which I certainly do not feel anymore, and some simply don’t fit my post-pregnancy body very flatteringly. So we went shopping.

I’m trying to stick to shirts that float away from the body in a flattering, non-mumu type of way. My usual fare of close-fitting shirts only emphasise the overhanging flap of belly and makes me want to scream. I found a couple. Far more I had to put back because of the wanting-to-scream thing. A few times I was tempted to buy something because it was really my typical style and “would fit me once I got rid of the belly.” But then I figured that buying clothes for the future – especially ones that were currently quite unflattering – would not exactly be the best idea. I don’t need a closet full of clothes that I can wear “later.”

::

I got my haircut today. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, we were shopping at a strip mall and there was a SuperCuts there. I decided to go get it done, as my hair hadn’t seen scissors since December and was sorely overdue for a snip. I had intended to get my hair cut shorter before the baby arrived. Yet another thing that I never got around to doing.

So of course there was chit chat. How long I’ve lived here, where I moved from, how I met my husband. The typical fare. I wondered if she’d ask about children. I tensed up about it. But the question never came, so I relaxed.

Five minutes later: “Have any children?”
“No,” I respond, knee-jerk reaction. Short pause. “Well… Had one.”
Silence but for the snipping of the scissors. No reaction at all. Not even sure if she heard my amendment. “So you’re out shopping with your mom?”

I don’t even know if I was relieved or disappointed. But at least I wasn’t in tears. I’m going to have to work on a reply for next time… I’m so used to saying no.

::

I just want to know that everything is going to work out in the end. I want to know that our family tree will have names beside Devin. It wouldn’t be so hard waiting if you knew when to expect it, or at least knew that at some point things would happen. But there are no guarantees. Sex doesn’t always mean pregnancy, pregnancy doesn’t always mean a baby, and all the positive thinking in the world doesn’t guarantee a happy ending. And that just fucking sucks.