in the middle of the night

It seems to me that my demons are lurking in dark shadows.

Specifically, they're waiting for me in the wee hours of the morning.

Oftentimes, when I wake in the middle of the night after being stressed during the day, I find that I lie awake, my mind teeming with thoughts that aren't necessarily "good." It always seems even worse when Jake isn't home, or is so sound asleep that I can't even wake him for a hug.

Tonight, I woke to Spencer's screaming, with Jake on his overnight route, and after changing a diaper, I headed back to bed, where, out of "nowhere" I find myself thinking about how hard it is to be alone.

That leads to how hard it was to be alone after the miscarriage, which leads to those feelings of abandonment, which I was able to shut out and move on from, but then the next monster lurking in the shadows came to get me.

Self-blame.

Yup, it got me. Snatched me right out of an exhausted state of mind and shook me to tears as I replayed the week leading up to the death of our unborn baby.

Now, I know, founded in scripture (which, for the life of me, I cannot quote, but I know it's there... or I feel it is...), that God didn't take my child. And, I know that my child waits for me in Heaven.

I believe that my child doesn't feel blame or animosity toward me, but of course, in the still, lonely, stressed out night, I begin wondering if he or she might.

But the blame game... ack! I can't handle it at night, especially. It's like my intellectual side has taken a nap and left only my overly exhausted emotions to roam free. That's not a good recipe for a tear-free existence, I will admit.

What if I did kill our child?

I didn't. I tell myself that. But then, what if?

What if? That's another wretched game.

I decided I had to get out of bed, and walk around, look at Spencer, pet the dog, and then get these tempting self-blaming ideas out of my head so that I can hope to sleep a little more this evening, between Spencer's abnormal waking every hour or so.

But, let it be known, when I wake in the middle of the night, things always seem so much darker than they really are.

I have a hard time with thoughts like this in the middle of the night. I've had nights sobbing for hours while my thoughts rampage through my mind leaving me feel bitter and scarred. I HATE it.

Hopefully, I will wake in the morning with a sense of renewed peace.

The report is in.

Today, I received a call from the doctor's office telling me that the results of the pathology report from the D&C were in.

According to the nurse, they found nothing abnormal or "wrong" with Sprout's tissues, leaving them unable to determine the cause of fetal demise, though it rules out chromosomal abnormalities, which is considered to be the most common cause of miscarriage in the first trimester. I was "hoping" that they would have found that to be the reason we lost Sprout, but, unfortunately for my "peace of mind," it was not.

There were no hormonal problems with my bloodwork that they found when I first found out I was pregnant, nor at the following appointments, and my levels from the day we found out we lost the baby were also perfectly normal, so that rules out another of the most common causes.

They found no malignant tissues, either.

As far as I was told, or could see during ultrasound, the cause wouldn't have been improper implantation, either.

They say that stress doesn't usually "cause" a miscarriage to occur, but a physical trauma to the mother's body could cause a miscarriage.

It leads me to wonder... I was having some pretty stressful days leading up to the date that they believe Sprout stopped growing. Could that have been the cause?

I was drinking low amounts of caffeine, though not ever day. What about that?

I fell backward into our wall and entertainment center two days before the aforementioned date. Would that have done it?

I don't know. I might never know. I try not to blame myself, because I don't believe that I really caused the miscarriage to happen, but when I hear the news I was dreading, that it wasn't something the doctor's could distinguish... well, that makes it a little harder to not wonder if it was my fault.

Someone asked me if I would really want to know the exact reason that Sprout didn't make it. I contemplated this a while. Right now, with the uncertainty and the borderline self-blame I am experiencing... yes, I think that I would like to know. I would like to know if it was something I did, truthfully, so that I could prevent it in the future. Granted, I will be trying to avoid the things I think could have caused it next time around, but I would like to know for sure if that was the case. If not, I would like to know if there's a genetic risk I carry, or Jake carries, or if it was just pure happenstance.

But, I guess, I will never know. Time to make peace with that.

The poet returned.

Oh yes, yes, I am writing another blog post tonight.

This one, of a completely different nature.

This one, filled with joy.

This one, showcasing...

a poetic piece of prose. (Ah, alliteration)

I am kind of in shock, actually, as it's been "eons" since I last penned an artistic piece on a random page of a random... paper item. Tonight, it happened to be a spiral-bound notebook, which is much less "quirky" than what I would find in the darkness of my room in my high school days when I wouldn't even bother to turn on the light to write something, and then in the morning, I would have a grand 'ol time trying to decipher my script.

Regardless, tonight, for whatever-on-a-whim reason, my heart lead me to write.

This is for Spencer.

"baby breath"

Controlled
chaos
in a warm hospital room
enveloped the night
in pure anticipation.

I cried,
"It's so hard!"

"I know. You can do this,"
he calmly replied.

One last time
I worked for a breath.
I grasped it-
contained it.

You arrived.
You breathed.
You cried.
You screamed for a brief eternity.

Cold, loud, bright,
terrifying,
this world is like nothing
you ever experienced
before,
or will
again.

Time stands
still in my mind.

Finally, I saw you.
so angry,
so beautiful.

...and then, the moment,
the one I spent my
life
dreaming of...

Tears
slowly cascaded from my eyes
to my chest,
where you
rested
against me.

Heartbeat to heartbeat,
we met
again
but also
for the very first time.

My breath was stolen
by your grand entrance,
and in that moment
where we met,
it remains.

A year later,
I am still
holding
onto that last breath,
holding also
onto you.

Your tear-filled
crystal, baby-blue eyes
peer up into my green,
as you rest again,
next to me,
heartbeat to heartbeat.

I will hold you
this way
forever,
even if
you are not in my arms.

That breath
that was taken
when you breathed the first time
may never return,
for fear
I will wake from
my life's dream
come true

It's So Hard.

The Dixie Chicks one recorded an amazing song, "So Hard." In a nutshell, two of the sisters wrote it in regard to their own personal life-experiences with infertility. I think it's amazing for two reasons, the first, that I feel I can relate to it on a personal level and I almost always get tears, and secondly, they helped bring public awareness to the infertility demon.

The song popped into my head a few days ago, after being "out of play" if you will, for quite some time. Specifically, the lines that read:

And sometimes I don't have the energy
To prove everybody wrong
And I try my best to be strong
But you know it's so hard
It's so hard

It's so hard when it doesn't come easy
It's so hard when it doesn't come fast
It's so hard when it doesn't come easy
It's so hard

It felt like a given
Something a woman's born to do
A natural ambition
To see a reflection of me and you

And I'd feel so guilty
If that was a gift I couldn't give
And could you be happy
If life wasn't how we pictured it

And sometimes I just want to wait it out
To prove everybody wrong
And I need your help to move on
Cause you know it's so hard
It's so hard

It's hard. Infertility can kill a woman's spirit and wreak havoc on her soul. Even when you have God by your side, as I feel like I did, it was still "so hard." SO hard. Heart break one month after another, sometimes for years.

But, in February of 2010, we won a battle against infertility, specifically Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (what they "diagnosed" me with). On November 1, 2010, our miracle entered the world.

Naively, I thought that the heartache and memories of what it felt like to be infertile and to wage that war would dissipate, maybe not completely, but enough that I wouldn't have to think about it or feel them anymore.

I was wrong. Even after having Spencer, it was still hard to see people get pregnant with their second, third, fourth... children. It was hard to hear people say they were going to start trying and that only a few weeks later, they'd find out they were pregnant. It was hard, but it wasn't as devastating as it used to feel, at least. A little less salt on a somewhat healed wound, I guess one could say.

When we decided we were going back to combat against the PCOS, the heartache came back for a while, especially the second round of treatments. I didn't expect the first to work, but the second I had high hopes for. I cried a bit, and moved on more quickly than I did in the three and a half years of irregularity, lack of ovulation, and extremely scarce cycles, before we conceived Spencer.

Third time's a charm, they say, and the third round, we conceived Sprout. I was shocked beyond belief, but of course, completely overjoyed. Though, I had a guarded heart the entire time, and from day one, was terrified I would lose the baby. I guess that's a mother's intuition, maybe, a foreshadowing of the loss that recently occurred. Or, it could be coincidental, who knows. I was worried about it with Spencer, but not quite as much. I remember that this last pregnancy, I was even researching miscarriage and still having pregnancy symptoms while having a miscarriage yet, and things of that nature.

And then, we lost Sprout.

I hope I do not offend anyone out there who hasn't gone through infertility struggles, who has had a baby recently, who just got pregnant, who just announced they were pregnant, who is in the middle of a pregnancy, who is thinking about having a baby... what have you, when I write what is to come. I do not mean to offend anyone with the way my mind and heart feel sometimes.

It's hard, all over again, to see these pregnancies occurring and happening all around me. I have lots of friends and family, from "online only" friends to people I see on a weekly basis, who are pregnant. Oddly, though it kind of makes sense, once a person has a baby, it doesn't tug at my heart strings anymore. Probably because I too have a baby.

But the pregnancy announcements and belly photos and constant reminders that there are people out there continuing to grow a healthy child inside of them sting just a little bit.

I'm not saying I don't want to know about these wonderful blessings, nor do I want to ignore that they're surrounding me, because they do in fact still give me hope. I guess it's a double-edged sword in a way.

Infertility (or other reasons a person can't have a baby) do crazy things to a heart, in that you can be ecstatic for a friend, and devastated for yourself, all in the same instance, regarding the same situation. It stinks. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I guess some would call it "jealousy" which is another evil monster, and it might be a form of it. But, while I admit I do envy those women who are having healthy pregnancies, I don't do it in a spiteful, hurtful way. I feel that envy in a way that I'm sad for my husband and I in that we just lost a growing baby. I hope that makes sense.

These things are so very hard to articulate.

If I really sit and reflect, I can happily admit that it hurts less now than it did before I became a mother. It's just unfortunate that it still hurts.

Like I said, I hope I didn't offend anyone pouring my heart out there. I don't mean any of this in a hurtful or malicious way. I just... needed to get it out of my system again so I can move on. I don't hate anyone who has it easy, though it's hard to compare that to having it a bit more difficult, of course. I am not mad that others are having healthy babies. I just wish that was my husband and I, too. Hopefully, soon, Jake and I will be back in the "trying to conceive" group of the infertility community, and then, God willing, we'll be blessed with a healthy pregnancy and Spencer will become a big brother. I keep praying. I hope others are still, too.

A Good Weekend.

It's amazing how you can sit and talk with a close friend from high school (or elementary school, college, work, church, camp, etc.) and even if you are only together for a matter of minutes, your mind can be flooded with the memories you made together.

Tonight, as I lay in bed (where I am writing this on my phone), I am playing a memory in my mind where my dear friends mart, Jason, and I were going to a movie together one summer evening. Jason was driving, with his Nickelback cd playing, and one of them decided he knew a short cut to get to the town with the theater. As it turns out, he was very wrong, and we got a but lost, and were too late to really enjoy the film, so we went back to Jason's house. On the way, a surprise thunderstorm and torrential downpour happened upon our journey, and we had to pull over and sit on the highway, being blinded by constant lightning so bright we could barely see. I remember hoping we didn't die. Haha.

I miss those days, but I am grateful for the present, too.

I had a pretty good, back-to-normal sort of weekend of minimal tears, comparatively, and less heart ache.

Saturday started out pretty stressful as our initial plans for the day were nearly ruined, but it ended in just a two hour delay, in which we missed Jason's wedding ceremony, but were able to make it in time to the reception. We were fortunate to be able to spend a few hours with some of my good friends from high school and some of their children. In fact, we filled a table with good conversation and tons of laughter. I love having friends that I can see rarely but still hold close in my heart, if that makes sense.

Sunday, I received hugs and prayers again at church, but I managed not to cry. Impressive, i think. Though, admittedly I cried st the end of the service, knowing it was the last service a friend of ours would lead.

Following church, we spent the remainder of the day with my dad and sisters (and one of my sister's friends). We had lunch, spent a few hours at Falls Park enjoying the weather and each others company, had frozen yogurt, and finished the evening with some laughs and conversation at our place.

Again, I made it through all their hugs without tears. I didn't start tearing up until just bow, writing this actually, and thinking how Sprout's due date would have been Allison's 13th birthday.

It helped seeing Spencer so happy on both days. He loved "chasing" and watching our friends' three daughters at the wedding, and seeing him smile and interact with my family and his daddy, and hear his silly laugh so often today, really helps me cope and realize that life is good, even when bad things happen.

I am exhausted.