There is a fabulous post on the Share blog about Grieving vs. Mourning. I highly recommend you read it.

It comes at an interesting time, seeing how I’ve spent a lot of time the last few months contemplating how okay I am. I can’t say that I am mourning anymore. Sad, yes. Missing Devin, yes. But I’m not mourning anymore. I don’t feel like walking around with what should be a black veil over my face, letting everyone know that someone in my life has died.

In so many ways I feel like Devin’s life and death has been processed and accepted. I long ago stopped waking up frantic and upset, keening inside over what I should have. And it’s this weird feeling, really, to be okay with something like that.

My process of mourning was so integral to where I am today, I am absolutely positive of it. Having that time off work, having that support of friends and family, being “allowed” by my social circle to grieve openly and honestly. People did not dismiss me, did not make me feel ashamed. They did not tell me I should move on sooner than I was ready. I wrote when I needed to write. I felt every emotion so clearly, so deeply – and I let myself hold on to it as long as I needed to. I felt sad for a long, long time. I cried in the car when certain songs came on that made me think, shit, my son is dead – even after a comfortable, productive day. I organized pictures and cataloged every piece of paper that had anything to do with Devin. I sorted through baby clothes even though the very thought of it made me weep. I bought ornaments and blankets and slept with a stuffed animal lovely, carefully held in my hands. I lived in grief. I accepted that.

Now I no longer do. I accept that too.

I can’t say exactly when it happened. I know it was after 6 months and before 18 months. After his first missed Christmas. Maybe his birthday was the closure for me – closure on that phase, at least. His birthday was hard, but not a punch in the gut, either. I look at the picture of me from that day and I see some light coming back into my eyes. I see the knowledge that I really would be okay.

18 months came and went and I didn’t even take a picture. I didn’t think of it. I did think about Devin that day, but no more than a brief passing, a silent acknowledgment.

::

Last friday a customer finally asked me if I was expecting. I said yes. She then asked the expected follow-up question: “Is this your first?”
I faltered for a second, let a moment of silence lapse. Even though I’ve been expecting this for months, I still had no idea how best to answer. It was a female who seemed honestly eager, so I hedged a little, but sketched a very rough picture of the truth. “Not my first pregnancy, no. But it hopefully will be our first child.” (I winced inwardly as it came out – that did not sound how I intended it. First live child, I meant. First baby at home.)
She looked puzzled. “Not your first pregnancy…?”
“We lost our first,” I explained quietly.
“Oh,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry. I lost my first pregnancy too.”
And then we moved into the “how exciting for this one” phase of the conversation.

Quite obviously I have to refine my technique. That did not come out the way I was hoping. It felt wrong to say this child will be our first – Devin was our first, and I don’t want to downplay or ignore that. I’m pretty sure she thought I meant I miscarried my first pregnancy – maybe it makes no difference to them, but it does to me. Devin was 4lbs 10.5oz, I birthed him. I can’t not acknowledge that out loud.

Afterward a coworker who overheard said to me, “You might not want to go down that road. You’ll get lots of questions.” And please realize here that she meant it might be difficult for me to explain the story ten times a day, over and over. I know what she means – and she’s not wrong, it will probably get very tiring. This is why I’ve been dreading this whole topic, this whole situation, with people who don’t know me – why I’ve been self-conscious and turning my belly away from customers until this point. Either way is going to be hard.

Telling everyone that this is my first would certainly make the conversations shorter, and spare them the sputtering. But what is best for me? Will I be okay with a couple hundred people believing that this baby is my only one, that I am – or should be – glowing and blissfully happy and naive? Will I be able to tolerate the well-meaning advice people constantly give first-timers? I’ve thought long and hard about it. And I don’t think I will be. It’s a game of pretend that I play now and again with a cashier, or a mechanic. It’s for a few brief minutes, and it always makes me feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin. It makes me uncomfortable. Then I picture myself wearing that facade for 8 hours a day at work. It makes me shudder a little.

I am okay with who I am. My first son died; my second child is on the way. It is terribly unfortunate that my story is not entirely a happy one, that my story is in large part tragedy. But it is what it is. If someone asks, well, that’s just the truth.

Today I had my 14-week appointment, my first appointment with the actual doctor. I did have to wait until nearly the end of my appointment, but finally he pulled out the doppler and I got to hear my little bub’s heart beating away. My heart was racing by that point so I actually had to do a little mental check to make sure it wasn’t my heartbeat we were hearing, but it definitely wasn’t. It wasn’t that much faster than mine, though. (Mine was probably over 100 by that point. If I had to guess I’d say bub’s was at around 140 – but don’t take my word on that.)

As elated as I am by the confirmation that the bubs is indeed alive and well inside my uterus, the entire appointment left me a little cold. The doctor was fine, the nurse was nice, but… it’s just fine. Is fine enough? I found myself really missing the conversations I would have with the midwives. Not long, not in-depth, but they’d ask me how I was doing. They’d talk to me while they were listening to the heartbeat.

And then there was the fun of scheduling… getting passed from desk to desk, being told my next appointment (with a nurse, in 4 weeks, WTF?). I’m still feeling extremely frustrated that my doctor is only in on Wednesdays and Fridays, and the nurses only take appointments on Wednesdays. I work at an office job 3 out of 5 days of the week, and those of course are two of the days. That is just irritating. Especially when the doctor said that to help with my anxiety I could come in more frequently for a quick nurse appointment – on a Wednesday. I can’t take that much time off. That’s part of the reason I work part-time in the first place… it gives me time to fit all my appointments and stuff in around my other job’s flexible schedule.

I’m not technically labeled high-risk, I just will be getting more monitoring than I did last time because of my previous loss. If anything specific comes up I could become high-risk, but at this point it’s “just in case” and to help with my anxiety levels. The OB office is not planning anything with my care that the Midwives cannot do (scheduling frequent bio-physical profiles and non-stress tests after 32 weeks). I decided to go to an OB this time because I thought it would make me feel better. I’ve had three appointments now and I’m finding that maybe an OB just isn’t a good fit for me. I think I belong with Midwives.

How far along? 14 Weeks

Total weight gain/loss: 133.2 (+0.2 week) (+3.0 total)

Maternity clothes? Over-belly pants, bigger bra, longer non-maternity sweaters (shorter ones are getting a bit too short).

Stretch marks? Nope.

Sleep: Much better! I have to make sure I eat before bed, then I’m generally fine. My bladder has even been easing up at night, I’ve been sleeping the whole night through! Only a couple of times I’ve woken up with an unhappy, hungry, gurgly belly and HAD to eat something middle of the night.

Best moment this week: Can’t think of any that stand out this week.

Movement: Not feeling any yet.

Food cravings/aversions: Still battling the candy cravings, but trying hard to eat healthier. Definitely craving sweet carbs, like pastries. I find myself looking for heavier foods – fruit is all well and good, but I want something that anchors my stomach.

Belly Button in or out? In, but stretched.

What I miss: Oddly enough, my shoes. My feet cramp up bad if I wear any heels at all. :(

What I am looking forward to: Finding out the sex next month!

Weekly Wisdom: Things really CAN get better in the second trimester the second time around, even if they didn’t the first time – who knew?!

Milestones: 14 weeks is when the amnion and corion fuse… which means the risk of amniotic bands happening is past. (Granted we’ll never know what’s already happened, but I already feel less paranoid.)

Symptoms:
– Nausea really decreased this week… not feeling very sick at all. Still gaggy in the morning, and I have to remember to eat, but absolutely nothing compared to what it was. I’m hungry, too. I find myself wandering the kitchen, hunting.
– Boobs fully and achy.
– Bloat belly feels like it’s gone down significantly, unless I eat a large meal. The bottom of my belly is really starting to pooch with a REAL baby belly – I am so excited!
– A lot of ligament pains in my belly, especially in the mornings when I get up.
– Still quite gassy. Lots of belly gas bubbles that irritate the hell out of me.
– Foot cramps are becoming more frequent. I have to be very careful how I sit or they cramp up.

Forgive me for being a complete and utter dork, but I am so excited! We didn’t take home much leftovers yesterday, and then I spent today thinking damnit, I definitely didn’t eat enough of that good food. So I stopped on the way home to buy some ingredients and then Den and I made for dinner stuffing (stovetop), butternut squash, mashed potatos, corn, and rolls. Not only did we actually manage to cook all of that together, at the same time, but it was so good!! Best mashed potatos ever. The squash was wicked good too. So we had a very yummy second-thanksgiving, just the two of us, watching TV and telling the dogs “touch this and die!” We just don’t make real meals very often, and I always feel so domestic and accomplished when we do. We even cleaned up the kitchen afterward, like real adults.

Thanksgiving yesterday was very good, very positive. I just felt happy, you know? And how fucking awesome is it to just feel HAPPY? I’m glad I got a baby-check right before Thanksgiving, reassuring me that all is well. It was good food, good company, and I just felt peaceful. So so very thankful for this little one.

::

I called the Midwife group that saw me for Devin’s pregnancy and booked an appointment for Dec 8. I forgot to even ask about seeing a particular Midwife (I would like to see either the one whom I had the appointment with the day we found out Devin had died, or the one who delivered him – both of whom were FANTASTIC and just stand out in my memory as wonderful people). When I got home I looked up my notes to see if I’ve seen this particular Midwife before, and I had; I had written down, “Really liked her.” Dec 8 is a Tuesday, which means yay, I won’t have to take any time off for it. I really thought about this a lot the last few days, and now that I’ve made the choice to switch I’m feeling very relieved.

At my last appointment I booked my next ultrasound, my Level II full anatomy scan, for December 28 when I will be almost 19 weeks. Not quite in time for Christmas, but hopefully it will be a very good Christmas present nonetheless. It’s only a month away! I cannot wait to find out who is in there… and, more importantly, check that everything is as it should be and baby is healthy. (Yes, readers, rest assured that we WILL be finding out the sex of this baby!)

My bloat belly is in recent weeks converting over to an actual baby belly. My uterus is pushing up and out, and now even first thing in the morning my lower belly pooches out. Of course, as soon as I eat my upper belly joins it. But it seems like every day now I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and startle at what I see. It is fantastic. I feel like I’m getting back bits and pieces of the good parts of pregnancy. I’m also feeling far far less sick than I was a few weeks ago, and that is helping my happy mood.

It is so good to be here.

Last night was my husband’s high school reunion. We went with the expectation that we would stay a while, eat food, he wouldn’t remember anyone, and we would go home. As it turns out he knew more people than he thought he would and ended up having a great time. He also partook in lots of beer, which helped immensely. He had a fantastic time.

I can’t say I had a bad time, though my feet were aching by the end, just from standing and mingling (or rather, standing by my husbands side while he mingled, since I didn’t know anyone!). I ate the appetizers that floated around the room, drank lots of water, and chit-chatted with people. We even met one person who understands a lot of what we’ve gone through, and it was very nice to just talk openly. Even now it still feels like a little beacon of comfort when we find someone who has fought a similar battle.

I left it to Den to decide how to handle introductions, and pretty much for the night we settled on a simple, pat, mostly-truth answer: when asked if we had children I would point to my belly and say, “One on the way.” They assumed this was the only one, and we did not correct that notion. Well, a couple people asked if this was our first, and we simply just said, “Yes.” Without guilt, too. But for the most part it just remained unsaid, and that was absolutely fine. I was so not into telling the story 30 times at a party of people I will likely never see again (or not until the next reunion, at least). Den being older, most of the people at the reunion had teenage children. There were a couple of perplexed looks, as if to say, “You’re just starting now? but by looking at me they would assume it was because he just got married recently (me being much younger). I know that’s hard on Den – seeing clearly around him how old he is to be just starting a family.

So of course once the news was spilled their face would light up and they would proceed to tell us how having children is the most wonderful thing ever and how we will just have the best time ever. I winced inwardly every time. How much would that have hurt to hear before I got pregnant? Not to mention the assumptions involved. I mentally added a “… if this one is born alive” to every comment.

By the end of the night I was planting my butt wherever I could sit it, and fading visibly – despite having taken a 3 or 4 hour nap in the afternoon. We finally left around 1am. In the truck as I drove home Den kept saying, “You are such a patient wife, I love you, I owe you!” I love seeing him having a good time enjoying himself. Even though the last three hours I really just wanted to be in bed, I didn’t feel horrible so I just waited and let him have fun. Many times has he put up with something just for my sake.

In the end, though, it was freaking glorious to come home and go to bed. Unfortunately it was not so glorious to get up to pee a million times, nor the throwing up. Apparently I did not eat nearly enough real meals yesterday, and boy am I paying for it now.

Word of the day: naus·over – a morning-sickness recurrence after a day of very poor eating choices.

At that party last night there were little appetizers floating around, and I partook freely. I had napped for about 4 hours before we went, and was rather hungry because of it. Unfortunately I think my belly needed a real meal, not little greasy appetizers, as I ended up throwing up a couple of times before the end of the night, and then getting up in the middle of the night to throw up the rest. So now my stomach is empty, I am struggling to get food into it, but because it’s empty it’s very sick and keeps trying to throw up everything I eat. I also woke up with a headache, which is not helping matters any. It’s a nasty circle.

As long as I can stay ahead of the nausea I’m fine – eating full meals at regular intervals throughout my day, keeping myself from feeling sick in the first place, then I’m good and the nausea stays away. But when I mess up and miss some meals? Or eat something I know I shouldn’t (but I do it because, hey, I feel good!). Bad bad bad. Trying to get back in front of this is like trying to get in front of a train.

(Meanwhile husband is downstairs trying to deal with an actual hangover – sadly, he looks better than I do.)

Now excuse me while I wander down to the basement and whine at my husband to locate and pull out the bins of christmas stuff so I can find the CDs of christmas music. I need some damn holiday spirit today.