October Again

October again. I thought I would be in bed by now and I'd wake up to October 1st but here it is after midnight and I'm still up. Welcome to everything PINK! October being famous for Breast Cancer Awareness month everything turns pink on the 1st. Don't get me wrong, I am an avid supporter of breast cancer research and awareness and even as big as it has become, women are still getting it. Young women are getting it more and more, and gladly many are surviving it. The pink is necessary.

October is not just for pink though, it's for pink and blue too. In 1988, President Ronald Reagan designated the month of October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. It's hard to fight everything pink but bringing awareness to the grief of losing a child is just as important, and more so to those that live with that grief. It kind of gives those that have a hard time talking about their loss a pass to bring it up. 

Often, those of us that have lost a baby to miscarriage, stillbirth, or neonatal death are only "allowed" to grieve by family and friends for a short while. Sometimes they come right out and say, "Get over already!" or maybe, "I sure do miss the old you.". Most of the time, they just act uncomfortable and change the subject when we speak about our babies. Having an entire 31 days that a president has proclaimed as a time of remembrance gives us the opportunity to share our little ones with the world and bring awareness to the highly taboo subject of babyloss. In case you didn't know, all 50 states have yearly proclamations making October 15th Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day too. 

October 1st also marks what I lovingly refer to as Christian's Day. For those of you that don't know, my last pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage. October 1st was the last day I knew for sure I was pregnant before I started to miscarry. An agonizing 5, almost 6, weeks of birthing my newly formed baby. I always felt as though that baby was a boy. We decided the next year around the time he would have been due to name him. He was our baby and he deserved a name and so we called him Christian Erin. Erin is the more feminine version of that name but we thought the name could pass for either gender and since we were unsure except for a feeling, we decided to go that direction. Had I carried him to term, he would have been born around June of 2006 and would be eight years old now. It's hard to imagine what having an 8yr old and a 13yr old would be like much less add in our two other losses for a soon to be 19yr old and 24yr old. Wow, that makes me feel a little old. 

When I wake up this morning, I'll welcome in October and all it brings to my heart. Lots of grief, lots of tears, some happiness, and lots of sharing my losses and helping others share theirs as well. October is busy from beginning to end and believe me when the end rolls around, I'm ready to let it go for another year. But for this year, it's here and I'll manage what it brings the best I know how. Every year is different. This year marking my daughter's 19th birthday on the 30th, not necessarily being a milestone birthday, but the thought of last holding her NINETEEN years ago does something huge to my heart. Next year will be horrible I can already tell you but this year, well we'll see how my heart handles this year as it unfolds. Either way, good or bad, the grief of her loss will never fully go away, nor should it. Neither will that of Christian's or Alyssa's because attached to that grief is the undying love of a mother with dreams for a future for all of them. 

Starting tomorrow I will wear my Origami Owl necklace with the new Pregnancy and Infant Loss ribbon charm in it. I will publicly announce that PAIL is near and dear to my heart and to so many of my friends' hearts too. I will wear it proudly for all the babies!

I dedicate this October to my babies - Alyssa, Bailey, and Christian. My ABCs. Their souls are with me and I am forever grateful that one day I will hold them all. Until then, it is my honor as their mom to be the voice for them. To speak of love and loss in the same breath; to help others find the peace in their hearts to do the same; to let it be known they lived, for as little of a time as it was, they lived! The depth of my grief has nothing on the breadth of my love for them. Therefore, I will always speak of them. I will not care that someone is uncomfortable with that conversation. I will not apologize for how my grief makes you feel. I have a right to speak my babies' names aloud and proudly because I am their mother and that will never change.

Leaving for good ALONE

I posted on the FB page a bit ago about an article I saw posted on a friend's page, that showed up in my newsfeed. I can NOT shake it! and I am torn!

The article was The hidden, human cost of 'distressed' babies: NICU parents suffer PTSD symptoms
and while not reading the article, I was upset by the comments left on my friend's post. She was talking of how awful it was when her twins were born prematurely and had to stay in the NICU weeks after she was released. Many of her friends offered support as they too experienced extended NICU stays. I however while reading them could not think anything more than "Stop your friggin whining, so your kid had to stay in the NICU for a few weeks, YOUR KID CAME HOME!" 

Part of me feels crappy like I'm negating her feelings. I know this woman, I know how being away from her babies was hard on her, I know this in my heart. But still another part of me wanted to so bad to write on her post "At least your baby came home!" But then that is so much negating her feelings and making it all about me. I still wanted to though! I wanted to say that I could relate to how they were all feeling. How scary a time it is in the NICU. How there is so much uncertainty. How the nurses are like family. How like you have a need to know everything little thing happening to your child and yet it is still not enough. How you feel helpless. How you leave cause you have to, and every time you do it a piece of you breaks off at that doorway. I get it! 

Remember in the darkest hours of the night, when your mind went to those places. The places you never want them to go but they did anyhow, and you couldn't stop it. The what if places. How absolutely terrifying it was to have those thoughts and then you would close your eyes tight as you could and shake your head and say out loud, NO! Everything's gonna be ok, she'll be ok, he'll come home soon and we can be a real family then. That scary place where just maybe your baby wasn't ok, and he didn't come home. That imaginary place was my reality. Mine and many many others who would never ever leave that cold, dim-lit room and go to our happy place. 

I will say that I don't think there is a good reason to have your baby in the NICU but obviously some stories are more serious than the others. Obviously if your baby is there then there's a need for it. The woman in the article had a long road of uncertainty with her child born at 24wks. Maybe I feel a little less crappy about her journey. Having my daughter born at 26wks, I completely understand the struggles she faced. They were much much different than that of the mother who's baby had less serious road. But see I still feel that is crappy of me to say cause I am negating the severity of their needs. You see what I mean though right? Someone's baby that was born 3wks early may not have the struggle, they may not necessarily have anything wrong with them but size and weight, all of which a short stent in the NICU can help with. That is not something that can compare with someone's baby that has no viable lung support. There are definitely specific circumstances to each story and I may be trying to generalize all babies that come home and those who don't. I think that is wrong but my heart still yearns for the Momma who deep down in her soul knows she will never leave the hospital with her baby and no amount of  "I had to leave them there for 5wks while they gained weight" can compare to that kind of pain. 

So now researchers say that these parents, the ones with the happy endings, have PTSD. Really! Yes it was hard! It was terrible! So why do the parents that lost everything get hushed? Why are they forgotten? You think we don't have PTSD, OH and maybe still do, and will, FOREVER! Because guess what, losing your child, a piece of your being, is extremely stressful. And what's even more stressful is trying to figure out what your life is meant to be afterwards, way more stressful! A life long battle of what ifs, what should have beens, and what could have beens. You think you're over protective with your grown up NICU child, try having a baby after a loss and see what over protective is.

The woman in the article says this,

“The emotional impact of leaving the hospital without a baby in your arms and seeing the other happy moms leaving with their balloons and flowers…it’s just a very different reality for parents of preemies,”  

 In this woman's story, there was probably several times when she wondered if she would ever have that chance. I left the hospital with a balloon and flowers. I left with a "cough pillow" and a plastic baggy of pamphlets on grieving on my lap . I left with everyone I passed seeing my tear stained face as I was rolled through the lobby with said balloon and no baby in tow. I left knowing she was not coming with me. She would be with a stranger, in a box, in the back of a cold car, and I wouldn't see her again for several days, and then, forever more.



PS If it sounds like I'm all over the place, I am. I am having one of those mind vs heart struggles cause frankly sometimes I want to strangle people who show no empathy because they can't see past their own pain. There lies the struggle because I try to see other people's point of view and validate it. I hope to not sound like a complete bitch, but I know the pain they speak of could have been so much worse and frankly I'm glad they don't know it the way I do. I do wish they would recognize it.