Life these days is complicated. I find myself often bogged down with entirely too much to think about, and never really figuring any of it out. Today presents me with a problem that I don't think I'll ever really have the answer to. The troll's bio dad and barbie are expecting their first child. Well-her first child, his second (obviously). She's over the moon about it, and he is too, and despite my adamant requests, they told the troll that he is to have a little brother/sister.The troll still hasn't quite figured out what happened to his little sister Bells, and now thinks that all new babies go to Heaven, particularly sisters. For this reason, he's pretty set that he DOESNT want this baby to be a girl. Now, my troll doesn't quite know what to think about the whole situation, and i know this because....well, i know my baby. He's excited because the people around him are excited, but he's not exactly sure how all of this effects him. Today, he took the opportunity while we were alone to have a conversation with me.
Troll: Mommy, Sarah Dawn has a baby in her tummy.
Me: Yes, that's true, she does.
Troll: Is it my sister?
Me: I'm not sure yet. It could be a little boy.
Troll: But if its a girl...
Me: Ok, if its a girl....
Troll: Does that mean Bella is coming down from her cloud?
Me: No, baby. Bella is an angel, and always will be. This baby will belong to Ricer and Sarah, and not to me. But, you never know. It could be a boy too, and then you will have a brother.
Troll: But i already have one of those. Logan is my brother.
Me: Yes, that's true.
Troll: So why do i need more?
Me: You dont NEED more, but that's not really in your control, now is it?
Troll: No, i guess its not. But mommy..?
Me: Yes?
Troll: Will the baby come out of Sarah's tummy?
Me: Yup, just the same way you came out of mine.
Troll: And daddy ricer and sarah dawn and the baby will be a family?
Me: That they will.
Troll: And you, and me, and daddy, and brother will be a family?
Me: We already are.
Troll: And where will nana be?
Me: Nana will be in both of our families.
Troll: And Papa Rich?
Me: And Papa Rich.
Troll: Will they miss me in alamogordo, mommy?
Me: I'm sure they already do, love.
Troll: Ok, mommy. I love you.
Me: i love you too, J.
And off he ran, into his room to wake up his brother. My little guy is not quite sure what to think of this new baby and how it is going to effect his life as he knows it. In talking to him, not just this time, but many other times, his fear seems to be, as well as mine, is that his Ricer is going to be so focused on this new baby, that he's going to forget about the one he already has. And to be honest, it wouldn't effect me too much if they didn't have a relationship. I know it would totally destroy my relationship with Momma, and likely Jason's too, which is why, in the past, when I've wanted to call him out for all the things he's done wrong, and keep that baby close to me, and away from the possibility of hurt, I didn't do it. The person who it would effect, is Jason. Because Jason---despite all the wrong doing, and the times he's been hurt, and left out, and upset, does not see the wrong in that man. All he sees is a man that cares about...a man whose time he will take...whenever he can get it. But after 4 years of being virtually absent in his life....at what point am i obligated as his mother to say, enough is enough? When do i have to start shielding my growing little boy from the hurt that comes with such inconsistency? Oh i don't know what to do...i guess I'll let it play out and see what happens, knowing that I'll have to make it stop at some point...if it continues. I'm playing it by ear, one day at a time, hoping that he doesn't get hurt, but having the feeling he will. I'm just like any other mother i guess. Intense, fierce maternal instincts...the need to protect...even if there is not yet anything to protect from. All i can really do is sit back, and guard my young, until the time comes when i have to take my claws out. Why is growing up so hard?
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
RANT!
Today, I'm having the kind of day that makes me want to run up and down I-10 and see what happens. Its been one of those days. The kind of day where nothing really happens so it SHOULD be a great day, but a lot of little things eat away at you until you're so pissy that your nice, relaxing day has turned into a heaping pile of dog shit. Yea, that's my day. I got to sleep in today, which was nice, and i sincerely thank D for that. He's awesome. I hear that whilst i was sleeping the boys were....well, boys. In rare form this morning though, and i realized quickly what he was talking about. Within probably 30 seconds of opening my eyes, the beasts realized i was awake, and i was bombarded. The troll wanted to know if i was awake, and do i love him. Also, he wanted to tell me stories of all the horror that D had done to them while i was sleeping. The imp just wanted kisses and snuggles, only he wanted LOTS of kisses and snuggles. And that's a lot to take in within just a few minutes of starting your morning. After i woke up, and fed everyone breakfast, things calmed down a little bit. The boys played in "the invisible boat mobile", and i played online. After a little while though, D and i figured it was time to figure out what to do with our day, did it involve going out, and what would we feed the boys? It ended like this: D was headed to the store to pick up 3 things: laundry soap, dog food, and a prepaid visa card for little miss worthless. Meanwhile, i was at the house battling the forces. The children were to clean their rooms, and have baths. D walks out of the house, and I sigh. Here goes. I start with cleaning their room. Now, when i say that the boys were to clean their room, that typically means that they have to stand in the room and watch while mommy does all the work. I wish i could say that i make them do it all, but i just dont have the patience. If i made them clean the room (and you HAVE to stand in there, otherwise all they do is play), i'd be sitting in there for HOURS. And...i love being a mommy, but i'm not about to hang out in their room for HOURS watching them clean. I'm sorry, i only have 300 other things on the to-do list today. So, needless to say, i did 95% of the cleaning after i hollered at them both to go find something to do that didnt involve watching me clean up their mess. After finally finishing up their room, i gave them baths, got them dressed, and even combed their hair. Gathered all the trash in the house, cleaned up the living room, dining room, and kitchen, and here i sit. All of these things accomplished and i stop and say to myself...."where's D?" And my phone rings. Everything is done EXCEPT for the task of purchasing the prepaid visa. At this point, what i want to do is to tell him to call her back and tell her to get a job and some priorities, and that hes not sending her shit. I want to stomp my feet on the ground like a 3 year old and ask WHY he is fully responsible for the care of those children, when she's not doing ANYTHING to help herself. I could find a job tomorrow if i wanted one. It wouldnt be what i wanted, but it'd put food on the table for these kids. Why does it seem like i'm the only one feeling this here? So what i want to say is, I'm sure there's a Mcdonalds SOMEWHERE in that great big ole state of WA that's hiring, i'd love for you to go find it. Until then, sit in the dark and think about how your laziness is failing your children. BUT-i dont say that. Any of it. Instead, i tell him to please hurry, that my babies are hungry, and hang the phone up in frustration. I'm not even frustrated at him. I'm frustrated at the inability of some people to take care of the lives they've created. Continuously making stupid, piss poor decisions, and putting men and being with someone before what's best for their children. Are we a rare breed, us parents that find our children to be more important than our men? Than the prospect of finding a man? Maybe I'm taking my grumpy, pms-y mood out on this chick, or maybe, just maybe, its time for all these little girls who are making grown woman decisions to start taking their responsibilities seriously. Or maybe its both.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Gimme Them Kisses!!!!
The imp and I play this game. We've played it for as long as he's been old enough to really understand what it is I'm asking for, and mostly we play it so that I can hear that BEAUTIFUL laugh, and see his precious smile. The imp is my cuddle bug. He has this smile that requires you to smile back and a laugh that will most certainly bring a smile to your face. His good mood is contagious, and he's nearly always in a good mood. I start and end my parenting time with him the same way every week. I take him in my arms, i hold him with him square in front of me, and with a straight face, i try to tell him "Gimme Them Kisses!" He will immediately tuck his face into his shoulder and squeal with delight, all the time trying his very best to make sure I can't kiss him ANYWHERE on his face. I of course, do what any smart mommy would do and say to him " I'm gonna find those kisses, I'm gonna get em." I then wrap my arms behind his back, hold him super close to me and kiss ALL OVER his neck, where he is superly superly ticklish. He squeals and laughs, and then i laugh, and it reminds me once again what a lucky mommy i am. There are a few times in every person's life where they stop and take stock of what they have, and what they have accomplished. There are times when its little more than overwhelming, there are times when its a little underwhelming, but at the end of the day, the ups and downs are worth the journey. The imp is a pretty fantastic little guy. There's not really much i can say about him that's bad....i guess i got lucky. He came out early, prompt, if you will, and shot out like a log ride, (lucky me, i'd say!) and ever since then, he's been winning hearts all over the place. He has a smile that you can't ignore, and these eyes that just draw you in. He's my baby, and i know how lucky i am to have him around to make me smile. Its funny though. When i was pregnant with him, and me and my ex were going through our struggles, I wondered what i'd do with him. Could i be a single mother to 2 children? Now i look at him, and ask myself a much different question: What would i do without him? Can i be a PERSON without these 2 children? And the answer is always the same....no. My little imp screeches and does the "pterodactyl screech", the one he's done since the day he entered the world, and says sentences that only end in one recognizable word. He has the same confused look that i do, and a smile that melts my heart. His eyes speak to my soul, and he tells me in his own way that no matter what happens, he's right here with me. He'll give me anything in the world i ask of him, and i know that....except...for those kisses. <3
Realizations of Mommy
Looking back over the years, I think of all the things that have happened. Some things I could have changed, but others...were just meant to be. I'll be the first to admit that I made a lot of mistakes. I told myself I was doing what was mature, what was right, but in all actuality, much of the time, I was just being selfish. It turns out, looking back on those days, that I had very little faith in myself. In my choices, in my strength, in my ability to be a parent. Much of that has changed, and looking back I can see how wrong I was. It takes a lot to be a parent, it takes maturity, responsibility, and the ability to have complete self sacrifice in light of your child. You jump head on into this responsibility, not ever realizing how hard those things actually are. After being a parent for nearly 4 years now, i have but a small grasp on what it actually means, and here are a few truths.
1. Gone are the days of partying all night long. In fact, I'm lucky if I'm still functional at Midnight.
2. Sleeping in is a thing of the past. Even on days when the kids aren't home, the internal "why is it so quiet in here" alarm turns on at about 615, and i spend the next 3 hours forcing myself back to sleep in order to make my tired body believe that i "slept in".
3. Acrylic nails are my enemy. There was a time when i LOVED acrylic nails. Nothing made me happier than going out on payday and having my nails done. It made me feel high maintenance, and kept. And it worked out great when it was just me, and even when The Troll was just a baby. And then he grew up. And got heavy. And expensive. So what it comes down to is: Even if i could afford to keep my nails did (which i can't), they last all of about 3 minutes before one of them has broken off, and needs repair. Which adds another $15(which again, i don't have) so really it makes more sense to put that $40 in diapers and save us all some trouble later.
4. Nothing i ever eat is mine. This is probably the most aggravating of the parenthood realities. No matter what i am eating, i have to share it. And this baffles my mind. If The Troll and i have the EXACT SAME THING on our plates, he will NOT hesitate to tell me "mom, i think this is just gross" and then 10 seconds later its "mommy, i just LOVE what you're eating." I'm not sure if even realizes their the same thing. I think he does. I think...secretly, its just part of his plot to annoy me. And it works every time. My dinner is no longer my own.
5. The only songs i remember the words to, are played on Disney Channel and Nick Jr. I find it sad how many times throughout my day, i catch myself singing a song that i heard on one of the boys cartoons earlier that morning. Just today, I'm walking around the kitchen, trying to make The Troll some breakfast and humming to myself " Yay hey welcome crew, everyone knew just what to do, yay hey with help from you, its time to count our gold doubloons." (Jake and the Neverland Pirates, for those of you who aren't constantly subjected to these lyrics.) And it doesn't stop there. Hannah Montana, Big Time Rush, and ICarly are all 30 minute sitcoms that invade my brain. But let me not lie, i have grown kind of fond of Big Time Rush (Lookin For A Boyfriend, I See That. In Time, Ya Know I'm Gonna Be That...") That's right, i know the lyrics. Its on my Ipod too. Guilty as charged. But...i blame the children.
6. The size 5 jeans i wore in high school will sadly never fit me again. I keep them in my closet, and i try them on occasionally, inside hoping that they'll slide over my mommy thighs, but they never do. I look at pictures from high school and wonder what the hell happened. Pregnancy is odd for me. I don't gain a pound through the whole pregnancy, and as soon as the baby pops out, all of the sudden i look 7 months pregnant. Its weight gain in reverse. I cant explain it, but there it is. I'm sort of resigned now to what is reality. Size 9's are always going to be my "makes my butt look fantastic but i cant breathe and i have a ridiculous muffin top" pants, and my Size 11's are always going to be my comfy jeans. The ones that fit me just right, but are by no means flattering my ever growing butt.
7. I am the mother of an angel baby. We are an elite group. There are many like us, but few so open about it. Being the mother of an angel baby means that i am never alone. It means that i take on no chore, responsibility or hardship without help and guidance. It means that instead of watching her grow, she is watching me. It means that no task is ever too difficult, because i have her help.
8. I chop up everything into tiny, bite sized pieces. I started doing this so that The Troll could learn to chew on bite sized pieces of food, and that was 2 1/2 years ago. Now, i do it because all of the practice has taught me that i actually LIKE to eat my food in tiny bite sized pieces. It keeps me from choking on my dinner when i have to yell at either of the boys. Truly more convenient that way.
9. I actually have the urge to do my hair and make-up once a month. Once every month (i'd say around the time that Aunt Flo is about to make her debut) I have this uncontrollable urge to be PRETTY. And of course, i believe i'm pretty all the time, but you know what i mean. Once every month, i actually TRY. I wake up one morning, in a queen sized bed full of self loathing, and whilst fighting off the PMS tears, i ask myself "how can anyone still be attracted to this HIDEOUS creature laying in bed?!?!?!" And i convince myself that none of my clothes fit. My waist line is too large, but tummy is too fat. Nothing looks good on me, my "C" cup breasts are now too small, and oh yea, by the way, over-night i've become a beastly creature not worthy of looking at. So what do i do? I curl my hair, i put on my make-up, i buy a shirt that hides my muffin top, i clean up my shoes, i put on the pair of jeans that BEST flatters my (seemingly) enormous butt, and i strut my stuff. This lasts for probably 2 days, and then the mommy in me takes over. I have 2 boys chasing each other all over the house, destroying everything in their path, and i'm in the bathroom with a curling iron? Reality hits me, i toss the curling iron back under the sink (where i personally think it belongs) and grab each of them by the ears. Time Out. Thats better.
10. My life is absolutely, 100% perfect, in all of its imperfect madness. Sure, its not all i thought it would be, but hey, few things ever are. I have two boys that mean the world to me. 2 parents that each play an important role in the life i live. Aside from them, i have an awesome brother, who is always there when i need him, an incredible best friend, who always knows how to make me laugh, Great friends who love me when i'm wrong, and a second set of "adopted" parents, who are here to love me and take care of me when my bio rents arent around too. I have a HUGE, amazing F-A-M-I-L-Y, and i wouldnt trade this crazy, beautiful, complicated life for a thing.
Reality can, at times be harsh. Some truths are hard to handle, and some truths are easy. I guess the real trick in life is taking them all in stride. My realizations are my own, I'm sure if you sit down, you'll have realizations of your own. Life is madness, but its unique to each of us, and it has hardships and treasures, but its wonderful. Someday, when I'm old and gray, i want to look back and know i lived life with the most positive outlook possible, and end this life knowing the journey was half the fun.
1. Gone are the days of partying all night long. In fact, I'm lucky if I'm still functional at Midnight.
2. Sleeping in is a thing of the past. Even on days when the kids aren't home, the internal "why is it so quiet in here" alarm turns on at about 615, and i spend the next 3 hours forcing myself back to sleep in order to make my tired body believe that i "slept in".
3. Acrylic nails are my enemy. There was a time when i LOVED acrylic nails. Nothing made me happier than going out on payday and having my nails done. It made me feel high maintenance, and kept. And it worked out great when it was just me, and even when The Troll was just a baby. And then he grew up. And got heavy. And expensive. So what it comes down to is: Even if i could afford to keep my nails did (which i can't), they last all of about 3 minutes before one of them has broken off, and needs repair. Which adds another $15(which again, i don't have) so really it makes more sense to put that $40 in diapers and save us all some trouble later.
4. Nothing i ever eat is mine. This is probably the most aggravating of the parenthood realities. No matter what i am eating, i have to share it. And this baffles my mind. If The Troll and i have the EXACT SAME THING on our plates, he will NOT hesitate to tell me "mom, i think this is just gross" and then 10 seconds later its "mommy, i just LOVE what you're eating." I'm not sure if even realizes their the same thing. I think he does. I think...secretly, its just part of his plot to annoy me. And it works every time. My dinner is no longer my own.
5. The only songs i remember the words to, are played on Disney Channel and Nick Jr. I find it sad how many times throughout my day, i catch myself singing a song that i heard on one of the boys cartoons earlier that morning. Just today, I'm walking around the kitchen, trying to make The Troll some breakfast and humming to myself " Yay hey welcome crew, everyone knew just what to do, yay hey with help from you, its time to count our gold doubloons." (Jake and the Neverland Pirates, for those of you who aren't constantly subjected to these lyrics.) And it doesn't stop there. Hannah Montana, Big Time Rush, and ICarly are all 30 minute sitcoms that invade my brain. But let me not lie, i have grown kind of fond of Big Time Rush (Lookin For A Boyfriend, I See That. In Time, Ya Know I'm Gonna Be That...") That's right, i know the lyrics. Its on my Ipod too. Guilty as charged. But...i blame the children.
6. The size 5 jeans i wore in high school will sadly never fit me again. I keep them in my closet, and i try them on occasionally, inside hoping that they'll slide over my mommy thighs, but they never do. I look at pictures from high school and wonder what the hell happened. Pregnancy is odd for me. I don't gain a pound through the whole pregnancy, and as soon as the baby pops out, all of the sudden i look 7 months pregnant. Its weight gain in reverse. I cant explain it, but there it is. I'm sort of resigned now to what is reality. Size 9's are always going to be my "makes my butt look fantastic but i cant breathe and i have a ridiculous muffin top" pants, and my Size 11's are always going to be my comfy jeans. The ones that fit me just right, but are by no means flattering my ever growing butt.
7. I am the mother of an angel baby. We are an elite group. There are many like us, but few so open about it. Being the mother of an angel baby means that i am never alone. It means that i take on no chore, responsibility or hardship without help and guidance. It means that instead of watching her grow, she is watching me. It means that no task is ever too difficult, because i have her help.
8. I chop up everything into tiny, bite sized pieces. I started doing this so that The Troll could learn to chew on bite sized pieces of food, and that was 2 1/2 years ago. Now, i do it because all of the practice has taught me that i actually LIKE to eat my food in tiny bite sized pieces. It keeps me from choking on my dinner when i have to yell at either of the boys. Truly more convenient that way.
9. I actually have the urge to do my hair and make-up once a month. Once every month (i'd say around the time that Aunt Flo is about to make her debut) I have this uncontrollable urge to be PRETTY. And of course, i believe i'm pretty all the time, but you know what i mean. Once every month, i actually TRY. I wake up one morning, in a queen sized bed full of self loathing, and whilst fighting off the PMS tears, i ask myself "how can anyone still be attracted to this HIDEOUS creature laying in bed?!?!?!" And i convince myself that none of my clothes fit. My waist line is too large, but tummy is too fat. Nothing looks good on me, my "C" cup breasts are now too small, and oh yea, by the way, over-night i've become a beastly creature not worthy of looking at. So what do i do? I curl my hair, i put on my make-up, i buy a shirt that hides my muffin top, i clean up my shoes, i put on the pair of jeans that BEST flatters my (seemingly) enormous butt, and i strut my stuff. This lasts for probably 2 days, and then the mommy in me takes over. I have 2 boys chasing each other all over the house, destroying everything in their path, and i'm in the bathroom with a curling iron? Reality hits me, i toss the curling iron back under the sink (where i personally think it belongs) and grab each of them by the ears. Time Out. Thats better.
10. My life is absolutely, 100% perfect, in all of its imperfect madness. Sure, its not all i thought it would be, but hey, few things ever are. I have two boys that mean the world to me. 2 parents that each play an important role in the life i live. Aside from them, i have an awesome brother, who is always there when i need him, an incredible best friend, who always knows how to make me laugh, Great friends who love me when i'm wrong, and a second set of "adopted" parents, who are here to love me and take care of me when my bio rents arent around too. I have a HUGE, amazing F-A-M-I-L-Y, and i wouldnt trade this crazy, beautiful, complicated life for a thing.
Reality can, at times be harsh. Some truths are hard to handle, and some truths are easy. I guess the real trick in life is taking them all in stride. My realizations are my own, I'm sure if you sit down, you'll have realizations of your own. Life is madness, but its unique to each of us, and it has hardships and treasures, but its wonderful. Someday, when I'm old and gray, i want to look back and know i lived life with the most positive outlook possible, and end this life knowing the journey was half the fun.
A Little Girl.....
It stopped me dead in my tracks. In mid laugh i noticed her, and i was paralyzed. Its funny how that happens to me. Often little girls of all ages catch my attention, and i know its because im thinking of her. Sometimes, i'm not even thinking of her, but i watch them. Thinking that watching is as close as i'll ever actually get to the pretty dresses and the pigtails, the laughter, and the mommy daughter kisses. I think about that a lot, and think that maybe god wants me to know that i am meant for my boys, meant to be their mother, to raise them right...and possibly meant to have the same relationship with their wives, or girlfriends, or "baby momma's" as i do for Momma G. Maybe somewhere out there is a little girl who is meant to be the daughter i never had...and maybe i'll be meant to love her like the mother she always needed. Its discomforting to think that i'll never have a daughter of my own..at least, not one i can ever hold. Its hard to imagine that i'll never see a soft, pink, baby girl, wrapped in her warm purple blanket, waiting to share secrets and stories with me. Today there was a little girl of no more than 2 running around the park playing with the Troll and Wilbur (as Momma G calls her) and we adults sat back and watched them. She was wearing a summer dress of yellow, but had kicked her little shoes off. She ran and ran with her older brother always right behind her, keeping a watchful eye on his sister. I thought to myself that the Troll would have been this way with Bells. Her socked little feet were moving as fast as they could carry her all over the playground, and her squeals and laughter rang through the park. Our hearts warmed to watch her, and she had us all mesmerized. As she slid down the slide, with her tongue sticking out, we laughed to watch how much fun she was having. I'm not sure that this will ever go away. I'm not sure that i'll ever see a little girl and not think of my Bells. Perhaps, though, i am wrong...and there is a baby girl in the future for me. Then, i imagine...the little girl i watch and think of her, will be the one who looks most like her. I have no doubt, that should i ever be blessed with a little girl, she will have many of the same characteristics....and each time i look at her, i'll remember the angel watching her from above. I guess all i can do is wait. See what the future has in store for me, and watch each little girl play, thinking that she must be doing the same things in heaven...for in heaven, there are no limitations. And can there really be anything better than that?
Bubbles to Heaven
3 year olds are full of wonder and curiosity, arent they? I guess i shouldnt have supposed my three year old would prove to be any different. I find he sees and hears a lot more than i thought he did, because he constantly tells me things i think he shouldnt know. Recently, in the midst of our day to day life, my 3 year old, the Troll, with his brother, The Imp in tow, stops cold with a serious look on his face and says to me, "Mommy, is my sister in the sky?" I choked up a bit but managed a response. "Yes, baby. Your sister is in the sky. She's in heaven, a beautiful angel now." He thought on this for a minute and then just nodded his head. Satisfied that i had put his worried little head to rest, we went about the rest of our day. Now, my baby boy loves to blow bubbles. It can occupy him for hours, and i've never actually understood it. On this day, the Troll and his brother have been frantically blowing bubbles for some time now, and i decide i should probably figure out what all the fuss is about. I walk outside, and touch his shoulder and he jumps. He was so focused on what he was doing, that he hardly noticed me. I asked him what they was doing, to which he replied, "Blowing bubbles." He said it in a tone that told me "duh mom". When i asked him what he was so worked up about he told me they were blowing bubbles to the sky. I braced myself, seeing where this was going. "why?" i asked him. The innocent eyes of a three year old looked up into mine and said "We're blowing them to Abella, mommy." I knew he was talking about his sister, for some reason he's always called her "abella" instead of "bella" like we do. I realized then that we are all dealing with the loss of this little life in a different way. I cope with the loss of my daughter, a life anticipated and nurtured yet never quite ours. And I deal with this by talking to her, by talking about her. By looking at pictures and remembering her. Her brothers are coping with the loss of a sister. A sister they never really knew, or understood, yet she was there. They deal with this by looking at her pictures, coloring her pictures....and in the true innocence of their age, blowing bubbles to heaven.
Hello World....
Hello world.
I'm new at this blogging thing, so here goes trying to get my feet wet. After my daughter died, I began thinking of ways to channel my energy. Channel my hurt and my anger, and I began to write. It comes so easy for some reason, and allows to me to honestly feel all of the things I'm writing, to feel all of the things I'm feeling.
Bells was born on January 13, 2011, at 8:57 am. The first time I laid eyes on my beautiful baby girl, she was already in Heaven. When a baby is stillborn, they tell you that she was "born sleeping". I remember the doctors telling me it was time to push, but i was numb...from the hurt, and from the idea. Of course, the fetal heart monitor and ultrasound told me that my precious baby girl was no longer with us, and it was a fact i still wasnt ready to come to terms with. I pushed, with the best of my ability, powered on by words of encouragement. "you're doing so great" and "she's crowning" were meant to make me feel better....as if to say, "dont worry, you're almost done." What they DONT tell you is that the end of labor means the beginning of so much more. As i felt her head pop out, i have to be honest, i braced myself for her cry, and it killed me when it didnt come. The took her purple, limp body and wrapped her in a pretty pink blanket, with a tiny little pink hat on her head....and then they asked me if i wanted to hold her. I'll be honest with you...i hesitated. The doctor sensed my confusion, and laid her gently on the bed in front of me. She told me they would give me a minute before cleaning me up, and they left us. For a long moment, it was just Bells and I. Left to talk things over, make some sense of what was going on. And i wanted to speak to her...but i didnt know how. Silence filled the air between us, and i just stared at her....memorizing her face. At the time, i wasnt aware of all the options open to parents whom had lost a child, so her daddy and i took no pictures of her, something i regret every day. Although i said no words, i know she heard me, and i could feel her watching me....she was there. If not in body, then surely in spirit. And that's better than nothing, i'd say. I put my finger inside of her tiny little hand and i cried. Finally, the baby girl i dreamed of, and i had already lost her. Before i knew it, the dr was back, and ready to take her from me. They scooped her up gently and then she was gone. I remember a minute or two of hysterics, and then i was sedated. She cleaned me up, and sent me to recovery, where i waited to see my boys, and my honey. What i remember most vividly is hearing "born sleeping". A nice way of saying, she died in the womb. And they expect that it will help you to cope with your loss, because "sleeping" sounds so much more peaceful than "died". I suggest, however, to any of you currently experiencing this tragedy, don't refer to your angel baby as "sleeping". For too long i did this, and i began to believe it. I began to tell myself that i didnt hear her cries because she was "sleeping". I didnt need to feed her or change her because she was just asleep. It became a way of coping in a very unhealthy fashion. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that she had, indeed, died. Now that i have, its an uphill battle to start over. To become something different. The truth is, there is no normal. Your life doesnt go back to the way it was before you had her, it changes, she changes you...forever. Its about finding the new "normal" for our family. How do we cope with what we lost, and incorporate her into our lives in small subtle ways to make sure she is not forgotten. Its surely not easy, but nothing in life ever is.
I'm new at this blogging thing, so here goes trying to get my feet wet. After my daughter died, I began thinking of ways to channel my energy. Channel my hurt and my anger, and I began to write. It comes so easy for some reason, and allows to me to honestly feel all of the things I'm writing, to feel all of the things I'm feeling.
Bells was born on January 13, 2011, at 8:57 am. The first time I laid eyes on my beautiful baby girl, she was already in Heaven. When a baby is stillborn, they tell you that she was "born sleeping". I remember the doctors telling me it was time to push, but i was numb...from the hurt, and from the idea. Of course, the fetal heart monitor and ultrasound told me that my precious baby girl was no longer with us, and it was a fact i still wasnt ready to come to terms with. I pushed, with the best of my ability, powered on by words of encouragement. "you're doing so great" and "she's crowning" were meant to make me feel better....as if to say, "dont worry, you're almost done." What they DONT tell you is that the end of labor means the beginning of so much more. As i felt her head pop out, i have to be honest, i braced myself for her cry, and it killed me when it didnt come. The took her purple, limp body and wrapped her in a pretty pink blanket, with a tiny little pink hat on her head....and then they asked me if i wanted to hold her. I'll be honest with you...i hesitated. The doctor sensed my confusion, and laid her gently on the bed in front of me. She told me they would give me a minute before cleaning me up, and they left us. For a long moment, it was just Bells and I. Left to talk things over, make some sense of what was going on. And i wanted to speak to her...but i didnt know how. Silence filled the air between us, and i just stared at her....memorizing her face. At the time, i wasnt aware of all the options open to parents whom had lost a child, so her daddy and i took no pictures of her, something i regret every day. Although i said no words, i know she heard me, and i could feel her watching me....she was there. If not in body, then surely in spirit. And that's better than nothing, i'd say. I put my finger inside of her tiny little hand and i cried. Finally, the baby girl i dreamed of, and i had already lost her. Before i knew it, the dr was back, and ready to take her from me. They scooped her up gently and then she was gone. I remember a minute or two of hysterics, and then i was sedated. She cleaned me up, and sent me to recovery, where i waited to see my boys, and my honey. What i remember most vividly is hearing "born sleeping". A nice way of saying, she died in the womb. And they expect that it will help you to cope with your loss, because "sleeping" sounds so much more peaceful than "died". I suggest, however, to any of you currently experiencing this tragedy, don't refer to your angel baby as "sleeping". For too long i did this, and i began to believe it. I began to tell myself that i didnt hear her cries because she was "sleeping". I didnt need to feed her or change her because she was just asleep. It became a way of coping in a very unhealthy fashion. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that she had, indeed, died. Now that i have, its an uphill battle to start over. To become something different. The truth is, there is no normal. Your life doesnt go back to the way it was before you had her, it changes, she changes you...forever. Its about finding the new "normal" for our family. How do we cope with what we lost, and incorporate her into our lives in small subtle ways to make sure she is not forgotten. Its surely not easy, but nothing in life ever is.
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