Oh my goodness, the weather is just perfect. This has got to be my favorite time of year, weather-wise… the sun is shining, though not enough to burn my delicate, pale skin; the temperature is warm enough to wear short-sleeves and summer dresses, without making you sweat; the breeze whispers through the windows that are now open. Everyone in the house is enjoying it – the cats especially love having the windows open so they can sit pressed up against the screens and breathe in the outside world. Sometimes they chitter as they sit there, talking to themselves in excitement. I can understand why. I’m laying on the bed, windows open, shades halfway open, just sort of drinking it in as the breeze floats through the room, pushing the shades in to let a burst of sunlight shine in. It’s glorious.

Of course, it occurs to me that I should be laying here with my son…. this truly would be the perfect season for a newborn baby. But strangely enough, those thoughts are getting less painful. Still painful, yes… but less than before.

I posted once before about BPA in bottles and pacifiers. The debate, however, has continued to gain momentum. The latest news is that Walmart is pulling BPA bottles from their shelves, replacing them with BPA-free alternatives. If this trend continues it will force manufacturers to start using different plastics or glass. For all the “We THINK it’s perfectly safe,” if BPA is possibly not safe why not switch to a known alternative? There are many bottle products already that don’t have BPA, but it would certainly would be very nice to have more to choose from.

I think I am going to be purchasing some stainless steel water bottles for myself. I did some browsing online and found things like this article:

The Canadian Government is now going to ban all baby bottles made with BPA – quite a radical move! It’s interesting for me to see how much is changing just recently.

Here’s an article about the different types of plastic and which to stay away from. Of course I’ve been using just plastic water bottles that are labeled number 1, not good. I want to buy a Sigg bottle… I just have to decide which one!

::

Today I planted peas.

Those of you who know me may realize that this is a radical event. I do not like dirt. I am not entirely a girly-girl – I mean, I work at a cat sanctuary and pick up poop and puke and such all day – however I have definite leanings. It is not unusual to see me holding my hands out in front of me while running for the sink and soap. (I have issues.)

Beyond that, there has never seemed any sense in working outside. You get things looking nice and it all goes to hell again. I have enough work trying to keep the inside of the house from doing the same, I was perfectly happy to let Den take care of any landscaping. I don’t even mow the lawn. Nope. So what if the grass hits a foot tall. It just adds a little flavor… and hey, the dogs like it.

So I was a little confused when I caught myself eyeing the packaged vegetable seeds at the store. Peas – I kept looking at the peas, remembering the way I would pick fresh pods from my dad’s vegetable garden and eat them. I don’t even like peas, not cooked; only fresh-picked, straight from the pod are tasty. But that was a long time ago. So I’d force myself to leave the seeds behind in the store, reminding myself that I do not garden. It involves being outside… and dirt… and sweat… and actual physical work. All things I greatly dislike. Why on earth would I want a garden?

But this urge, it won’t let go. Every time I went shopping I’d linger at that rack of seeds. Finally last time I grabbed one of the pea packages and tossed it in my cart with a shrug. It’s cheap; if the idea totally flunks out, so be it. But something was telling me to plant some peas.

Today Den got me out of bed and we wandered outside. He immediately set to tackling the hugely overgrown side yard, pulling out the thorny vines that had choked off everything else an co-mingled with the large bush-tree that sits at the corner of our foundation. I avoided the prickle bushes, so I set to clearing out debris from around the rose bush and the one lone tulip that is starting to bloom. (I don’t even recall my husband planting a tulip. Where the hell did it come from??) And then I just continued along the back of the house, clearing out the grass that likes to grow around the foundation, pulling up weeds and turning the soil. I decided that’s where I was going to plant my peas. After I had an area for them along the house I ventured into the woods at the back of our yard to find some fallen branches. I stuck them in the ground to mark my two rows. I planted my peas.

When I was done I had dirt under my fingernails (that drove me CRAZY… and I admit, when that happened I immediately had to run inside and wash my hands), dirt on my knees (my calves were killing me with the crouching, so I finally just knelt in the dirt), and I was sweaty. But I was very pleased.

I spent the rest of the day researching vegetable gardens and trying to decide what else I could plant. Den wants pepperoncinis. I’m also thinking a couple of tomato plants and an herb or two. There are others that might be nice, but I just want to start small. I was looking at methods of building vegetable gardens and tools and such and of course, as with anything, the urge is to go out and buy some pressure-treated wood to make a raised bed, some good soil and fertilizer, a bunch of fancy tools, a bunch of plants. But I stop myself and think, this isn’t about spending money. It’s ridiculous how dependent we are as a society on “things” – you can’t have any kind of hobby without the “things.” Well tough! I don’t want them! Tomorrow I am going to buy some cheap pots (Ocean State Job Lot) for the herbs, some twine to string along the peas so they can grow, and some seeds for more plants. And that’s it. Den has the basic gardening tools. One site mentioned how you can use old plastic containers (like yogurt containers) to make markers out of so you know what’s growing where – no need to buy some fancy things.

I can’t help but think that it’s no fluke that I am suddenly drawn to gardening. It’s a need to grow something. It is not up to me whether or not I have a baby to grow, and I can’t just sit around waiting for that to happen. So maybe tending to some plants will be nice. Devin’s tree started it, really. I’m watching it bud, green leaves opening right before my very eyes, and I am just so thrilled by it. I’m so very very glad we chose a tree to honor Devin.

And hey, Dad reminded me that gardening is in my genes. So maybe there’s a chance I won’t kill everything. Remembering to weed and water everything, however… that’s going to be a tough one. I have the attention span of a gnat. Den and I are both just waiting for me to find something new and shiny and forget all about the gardening thing.

Oh my gosh, Devin’s tree is just opening up more every day! I only just posted about how it was budding green…. now look!

The only bloom so far is white… I’m really hoping it’ll turn pinkish. We really don’t know what kind of flowers this type of cherry tree will have.

I left my phone off today because, well, it died and Den was home and I thought to myself, a day without phone interruptions, that’ll be nice. (Which is funny, because most days no one calls, but if we have a day off to spend together? Tons of phone interruptions.) Sure enough, 4 voicemails. Two from my mom, one from a client, and one….

“Hello Natalie! It’s ______ from ____ Reproductive! [Our RE] Just calling to check up on you and Denis. By this time you should have had the baby, can’t wait to hear the good news! You can call us or we’ll call you again later to catch up!”

Fuck.

Today is going to be a rough day. Why do I know this? Because I am about two seconds away from an utter meltdown.

It’s the tree, Devin’s tree. I went out to look at it again – the bloom has opened up – and it looks nothing like the typical cherry blossom bloom that I expected/wanted. I am irrationally angry and upset by this. We picked out a cherry tree, I wanted a cherry tree, the kind with those gorgeous pink and white blooms. But Den insisted he wanted a fruit bearing tree, it was important to him so that’s what we went with. We tried hard to find out what it would look like in bloom, but we couldn’t find even ONE photo of a Danube cherry tree in bloom. Nothing. Den tried reassuring me, but damnit I should have thrown on the brakes right there. We ended up picking out out a cherry tree based on the type of fruit it gives, its shape and the color of its bark. And now, now it’s blooming and it doesn’t look right. This is not the tree I expected. I’ve been so freaking excited and pleased with this tree until that bloom opened, and then it was like a slap in the face. I’m practically hysterical and I just want to yell at Den for getting the wrong goddamn tree.

And now there’s nothing we can do about it!!! This tree has been bought and planted. It’s Devin’s tree, it has been for weeks now. We can’t take it down or replace it. We can’t plant a new one. This is his tree now. And for the rest of my life I have to look at the wrong damn blooms!

Insult on top of injury…. I don’t have my son and now I don’t even have the right freaking tree. I am so damn angry right now there are no words. I just want to crawl into bed and bawl for a good long time, but I have to go to work.

I am feeling a lot calmer after some tears and angry writing and a few hours at work. Still struggling with the frustation and anger and a good dose of helplessness, but I’m trying to just breathe and stay calm and see the positives here.

A good part of my panic and frustration was because I immediately recognized that, while it would be physically possible to replace the tree, I just can’t do it emotionally. Entertaining the thought makes me feel incredibly guilty and panicky. For better or worse I have invested my feelings towards my son in this tree; from the moment we brought it home it was Devin’s tree. Replacing it would feel like such a betrayal… it would just be wrong in my heart. Even saying “it’s the wrong tree” sounds terrible.

I guess that’s why I was so upset. I realized early on, when we were selecting a tree, that it would be important and not something we could change (though I don’t think I knew it would be this bad). So this morning when I stood there staring at that one white bloom all my panic overwhelmed me as I realized it was too late. Too late to change my mind, too late to fix things. My OCD need for everything to be perfect, a need that is especially strong when it comes to anything for Devin, was overwhelming. I had to fight the urge to rip the bloom off the tree in anger, like ripping a page out of my diary after I mis-spelled a word. It’s not right, it’s not right, it’s not right. My son died, shattering my belief that anything in this world would ever be right again, and yet here I am having a panic attack because the tree is the wrong color… still clinging to an attempt to make things right again.

I’m really really trying hard to reason my way through my OCD. The tree isn’t perfect – but neither would Devin have been. He would have had flaws, he would have acted out, he would have made choices that I didn’t agree with. I tell myself it’s okay that the tree isn’t the way I envisioned it, that the tree is for Devin, not for me – it is how it is supposed to be. And I need to find a way to find the beauty in what it is, not what it was in my head. I lean on my photography, in a way – photography, in my eyes, is not about changing the object, it’s in finding a beautiful way to look at it. Anything can be beautiful if you look at it through the right lens, the right angle, the right lighting. So I put myself behind my lens and find the beauty in this tree.

Saturday is my SIL’s baby shower. I have very mixed feelings about it.

On one hand I really want to be there. I mentioned before how getting closer to her and the baby makes it easier on me than just standing back and staring and wondering and thinking. Being involved in my neice’s life is I think going to be very important to both Den and I.

On the other hand I really don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle it emotionally. All the people talking about babies and “when the baby comes home”…. I don’t know, I just don’t know. I also worry that my being there will dampen the mood. Knowing the family, people will be gentle around me – not tip-toeing, but aware. And maybe it’s better if I just weren’t there and let everyone celebrate honestly, because she needs to be celebrated.

I have let SIL know that I hope to show up and will leave when I feel overwhelmed. She understands completely. I’m kind of leaving it to the last minute, because I never know how I’ll feel until the day dawns. Some days are good, some days aren’t so much.

I just hate that all of this is in the way. In the way of SIL and my relationship, in the way of happiness, in the way of moving forward. I hate that every little event now requires careful planning and emotional fortifying. I just get so pissed off that this is what life has dealt us.

::

Today was my 6-week post-partum appointment (though it’s been nearly 7 weeks). I checked in and the receptionist asked me how I was doing, how I was holding up. I did have to sit in the waiting room for a few brief minutes, but I was okay with it. I just steadfastly stared at the TV and the fish, avoiding looking at any of the women in the room.

The nurse took me in back apologising for making me wait a few minutes. She took my blood pressure (110/77) and weight (147.8) – though not before asking me if I was okay with getting my weight taken. I was quickly shown into a room. Then the nurse asked me if it was okay if she asked me a few questions, and told me to stop if I felt I couldn’t handle it. She asked me when the baby was born, how much he weighed, what his name was. I just smiled. I’m never upset to talk about my baby.

The midwife came in right away. It was the same midwife with whom I had the appointment that day, March 6. She was there when I found out Devin had died – she’s the one who sat with me all day, who made sure I had everything I needed, who listened when I talked and hugged me when I cried. I’m glad they arranged for me to see her today.

She asked me how I was doing and I talked. I talked a lot, actually. Once in a while I would stop and wonder if I should just shut up now, but she was so quiet, just nodding, and she seemed in no hurry to leave. So I kept talking. I did start crying a little bit at one point, talking about how beautiful my labor was, how thankful I was for it, how Devin gave me that. She said with a small smile, “He gave you much more than that, I’m sure.”

I told her that we want to start TTC right away. She said ideally my body would heal a bit first, but in our case she “isn’t going to tell [us] to use protection.” They seem to understand that between our emotional need to be pregnant again and our previous fertility problems that waiting would not be beneficial, so we take what we get. Chances are very good that my body will have at least a couple more months of healing before anything happens… or before we head to the RE again.

I asked what would happen during a subsequent pregnancy. She said that since it’s a non-recurring issue that there’s no need to talk to a genetic counselor or have any increased monitoring… nor any reason I would be unable to continue seeing them. (As a Midwife group they have to hand off any patient who is high risk.) I mentioned that I really feel that I’m going to be paranoid as hell, like in the first tri when we won’t be able to hear anything by doppler yet. She said that my feeling panicked is a good enough reason for them to give me an early ultrasound, and that if a month between appointments is too much for me then they can do them more frequently if I want. So basically it sounds like I’ll be calling the shots, and they’ll do whatever they can to get me through it, even if, scientifically speaking, there’s no risk factors that call for increased monitoring. She also mentioned in passing that they would completely understand if I decided to go to a different care provider next time because of bad memories or whatnot. I explained to her that I’ve had the opposite reaction… I felt I had such good care of me and Devin and I really feel that I need to stay with them next time (even though I had somewhat planned to go back to my old Midwife after this pregnancy was over).

I have a lot of questions about what happened to him, about the amniotic bands, but that is something I’ll have to bring up with the peri when we see him on May 1 (the one who called us with the autopsy results).

It was very strange walking out of there, knowing that was the last time I’ll see them until my annual pap in September… or my next pregnancy. It’s another indication of that chapter closing. No longer pregnant. It’s like I took an 8-month daydream out of my old life – a crazy, wonderful dream – and now I’m back again. I’m right back where I started, wondering if what I remember really happened. My body is healed, the pets are the same as always, I’m back to work… all I have is a tree blooming in my front yard, some boxes stored in the basement, and memories that fade a little more each day.

One thing I forgot to mention was that I also asked the midwife about Devin’s size. He weighed only 4lb 10.5oz at nearly 36 weeks gestation and we thought that seemed rather small. But the midwife said that he would have been around 6.5 lbs at full term, which is completely normal. I guess it’s just a lot smaller than what I was expecting. It seems that he was a smaller baby. I always just figured I’d have a bigger baby… not sure why.

It’s been a rough day. Just… rough. I was snappish with the dogs all day, blowing my top every time they barked (which is frequently, since with the windows all open they are hearing and reacting to every. little. sound). I nearly threw a fit because the floors are dirty and I just can’t stand the feel of dirt under my feet. I wasn’t even feeling very cuddly with Den (until we went to bed, then I was fine).

I just can’t stop thinking about Devin. All day, every minute, I’ve been thinking about him. And not in that fond-memory kind of way, in the I-can’t-believe-this-got-taken-from-us way. I saw a baby on a commercial and could barely breathe. I stared, fixated on the little baby arms and thinking about babies dressed in a onesies and oh god it just broke my heart all over again. Getting through the day feels like swimming through sludge. I can’t see ahead of me, I can’t breathe, and moving takes do much damn effort.

Sometimes I try rationalizing it. I think about it philosophically. What I wrote yesterday is true in a physical sense: we’re pretty much where we were before. Before we got pregnant we were infertile, not pregnant, and didn’t have a baby. Now we’re most likely still infertile, not pregnant, and don’t have a baby. If I had never gotten pregnant I wouldn’t have this huge hole in my heart, not like this. I would be mourning the fact that we don’t have a baby still, but I wouldn’t be bogged down with thoughts of this one baby. And I guess a part of me just can’t quite understand why it hurts so damn much. We didn’t know him, other than the kicks he gave. How could he possibly be the “perfect” baby? Won’t our next one be just as perfect? Aren’t the what-ifs just caused by my own mind?

And yes, some days I just want to run away from it all. I want to shut off that part of my brain and go back to my old life, the life of the Natalie who didn’t hurt all the damn time. But then I realize what I wished for and I feel guilty, so very guilty. I never want to forget, but how can you move on when you’re clinging to what should have been? I’m still trying to dis-entangle it all.

I’m trying to avoid all things baby right now. Even friends. I just can’t handle any cute pictures or stories. Not today. If the baby shower were today I would definitely not be going. But it’s not until Sunday (I thought it was Saturday, I was wrong), so I’ll see how I feel then. The moods really seem to swing pretty heavy from day to day… there is no predicting.

I finally booked my first dentist appointment for next week. I have put off going to the dentist for years now, but they’re hurting so bad right now… I’m still majorly clenching my jaw, and I know I am. I do it all day long and I have to keep mentally reminding myself to cut it out – a lot of times I don’t notice until it’s hurting. Plus my teeth in general, I know they need to be taken care of. I told my boss that I’m in a bad spot emotionally, so I’m trying to take care of myself physically. I want to get things taken care of before I get pregnant again… start off on the right foot, I guess.

I stumbled across buddhaweb today. The four noble truths of Buddhism:
1. Suffering exists
2. Suffering arises from attachment to desires
3. Suffering ceases when attachment to desire ceases
4. Freedom from suffering is possible by practicing the Eightfold Path

That resonated with me: Suffering arises from attachment to desires. We grow attached to this idea of a baby, all through a pregnancy this attachment grows. The future lays out before us and it worms its way into our hearts. We make plans for this child, we wonder what he will grow up to do, to be. We plan our life around what will be, not what is.

And then it is all gone. And we suffer, because everything we thought we had, everything we planned, everything we desired… is gone.

::

Yesterday wasn’t a bad day. I was productive, I was active. But I realized I still can’t view anything baby… reading friends’ journals about babies makes me feel panicky. Every time there was a spare moment, a silence, my mind drifted right back to Devin. And it hurt.

I realized the bubble is gone… that lovely bubble of numbness that I’ve been walking around in. It’s no longer there. Now instead of feeling numb I feel this constant ache.

Others have said that it gets worse before it gets better. I guess they’re right.

Yesterday was somewhat of a disaster. We were out for the evening, a night with family to watch a band play, and, as they say, all roads lead to rome. In this case “rome” was me sitting in the hallway, crying. In some ways it’s fairly inevitable. I was just thinking about Devin a lot and feeling a little “off.” I just haven’t been doing so well lately without my numbness. It’s so hard to enjoy other things in life when you have this huge weight sitting on your chest.

But what really got me was the unfortunate event of Den losing his wedding band last night. Like I said to MIL afterwards, it’s not like I blame him, and it’s just a band, it’s not really that big a deal… but on top of everything else I just feel like I can’t take any more in my life. I was just sitting there as everyone looked for it thinking, you have to be effing kidding me. This, too?

Thankfully the ring was found by the end of the night, but not after I gave in to a meltdown. In fact, it was me giving in to my meltdown that ended up leading to the return of the ring. I picked a corner of the hallway to sink into a tall wing-back chair and hope no one really noticed me. Den ended up coming to get me (though not before sending SIL to the bathroom, “violating every woman in there,” in her words, to try to find me). It was there as I was looking at Den crouching beside my chair, my vision blurred with tears as I tried to compose myself, that I saw the ring laying in the middle of the hallway behind him.

Last night I was having a really hard time with not being pregnant. It occurs to me that I would probably feel this way even if Devin were here… I miss being pregnant so very, very much. I loved being pregnant. I loved going out with my big belly, I loved people commenting, asking about the baby… I really did feel that glow people mention, I felt just so so very happy in my body. I miss that just as much as anything else. The loss of Devin just makes it so much worse, because I have nothing to make up for that loss of pregnancy. Maybe it’s good, in the grand scheme of things, that I can’t get pregnant easily.

I am attempting to go to this baby shower today. I have no idea how it’s going to go. If I end up getting upset I am just leaving. But there’s a chance I could be okay. So we’ll see. It’s easier if I focus on the fact that I will be pregnant again…. maybe soon. That keeps me going.