Journal entry #1 ~ October 29th, 2002

The pain has scratched the surface only a few times, and I've described it as opening the window a tiny crack and letting a small amount of the wind and snow and storm inside. I've seen this giant snowstorm waiting outside my window and I know that someday I will have to experience it all, have to stand in the middle of the storm and have freezing cold snow whirl all around me and make me shiver with the cold and feel the bitter sting of the wind... but right now I can only open my window a tiny crack. I have to go stand out there in it, but I can't yet, I just can't. I have let it in the window only a few times... yesterday when I was in the shower it was nice and warm and comforting and I just let it out a little bit, and the pain and grief ran from through every single cell in my body. I let myself feel the grief over the loss of my baby for just a few minutes, and I started crying so hard that no sound would come out of my mouth. It's like I can't even bring myself to a place where I can let myself feel the grief. I know what it is like because I have already lost a baby so I am terrified to feel it again. When I start to feel it, it hurts me so much I just have to turn it off, turn my emotions to stone cold numbness, block everything out, not be able to feel anything.

This is all I can write for today.

Journal entry #2 ~ October 30th ~ 6am

The thing that strikes me the most was the normalcy of the dream. Harmony was playing at this playgroup, I was talking about my children to the other parents, and even to this one nurse (Margot) I remember seeing all the time at a baby clinic when Harmony was a baby. I was telling her I should start coming back to see her again with this baby. Although there were other details that were very strange. When I first came to this large room and meeting place filled with all the other parents and children, I didn't have my baby with me. I'd gone through the labour and everything before, but since that was an earlier part of the dream, it's much less clear what exactly happened. But since the start of things in that meeting room, I remember what happened. I was sitting and chatting and then all of a sudden I looked over to my left and a couple nurses were behind a counter with a glass wall. I saw them wrap a tiny little baby in pink and ran up to the window. "That's my baby." I told them, trying to convince them. "I'm the mother." And she looked at me strange and said she wasn't sure, she would have to check. I think in real life they never would have handed that baby over to me, but in my dream they came around and handed her to me. I held her in my arms and could hardly feel her weight. She was so small she was like a tiny doll. I brought her in my arms to a chair, I had to find the right chair. I think I remember moving my stroller out of the way (for some reason I had it with me) and I remember my mother helping me move the stroller and the chair out of my way (for some reason she was there), to leave the circle of normal uncomfortable folding chairs, to find a nicer chair up against the wall of this room that looked like a good one to sit in to nurse the baby.

I remember breastfeeding her so so clearly. I was wearing a shirt with buttons down the front, which was part of the clues in the part of the dream that I really wasn't expecting to have the baby at that time. She was still wrapped up in that pink blanket, just like a normal hospital blanket, just like the ones Harmony had. But for some reason it was falling off and I couldn't keep it on, the dream was preventing it. So she was half-naked and helpless about that. I hope she wasn't cold, there wasn't anything I could have done about it. I lifted my shirt and there was already breastmilk soaking through but I didn't mind. I happily offered her my left breast and she latched her miniscule mouth on really well. She only ate for a minute or two before falling asleep again. I don't really remember what she looked like awake. She didn't really open her eyes very much, maybe not even at all... I can't say that I remember her doing that. But I remember her hair, it was a very dark brown, like Harmony's when she was born, but a lot darker. She had pinkish red skin, still a little wrinkled, like most newborn babies, except that her little face was so so small. I held her for a while, while she slept. I think I paid attention to Harmony playing and running around with her friends. I think whatever meeting in that meeting room had been long over before that part of the dream really started because it was always very busy. The baby woke up again and I got to breastfeed her again and see her tiny little mouth again. I remember seeing all the milk and remembering things exactly the way it really would have been, breastfeeding a baby that small.

After that, Harmony and the baby and I left to go meet Paul in the car. He was already waiting there, I remember thinking I didn't have my cell phone in my purse with me (another of the odd details that didn't really match up- I had no diaper bag with me, and who cares about my cell phone in this dream? but still I remember thinking that). I can't really remember how the baby was with us though... I wasn't carrying a carseat? Maybe I was carrying her, but I don't remember that. I remember having her with me when Harmony and I were in the hallway outside the meeting room, but I don't remember what happened to the baby. I remember talking to Paul and Harmony about her in the car' though (which like in a lot of dreams, did not look like our real car). We were joking about the baby's birthday- it was November 20th, 7 days before Harmony's, 4 days after Paul's (yesterday in real life I was telling him I didn't want another birthday in November since his and Harmony's already are). We were calling her Willow. I don't think she was in the car with us though, because Paul was in the passenger seat and I was driving. I really can't remember the end of the dream very well, I wish I could say we drove off as a happy family of four, but I really can't remember that part. I don't know if she made it out with us?

That was the end of the dream, I think those are most of the details I remember. I'm feeling really sad right now but I'm almost kind of glad I got to "meet" my baby. I wonder if that's what she would have been like had she been born? Maybe not that small obviously, but maybe she would have been like that, a little sleeper, doing well at breastfeeding... she was a very sweet little baby. Her hands, face, body, everything was just so so small. I'm glad I got to hold her for a little while, even just that little bit of time in that dream because it felt like I was really holding her.

Journal entry #3 ~ October 30th ~ 11am

This morning Paul and I have just been sleeping and crying off and on and that's it. I feel exhausted now not only from my physical condition (still bleeding a lot, still having painful cramps that I wish would stop) but from crying all the time and being so emotional. I feel even more miserable because we had a bad morning with Harmony. I wish she would understand what we are going through and know that we just aren't in the same headspace. I just can't stand to hear her whine and tantrum, it just feels so out of place in this gray house. I want to reaffirm that we are a happy family, that the one child we do have that is healthy and alive is such a miracle to us. And yet when she is upset it makes me so upset... I can't deal with her, nor can she deal with me not being able to deal with her it seems... She wants me to still be there for her, still be the same, still do things for her. Sometimes she cries and whines "I want mommy to do it, not daddy!" and I just can't because I feel too weak. I feel like a terrible mother right now, not even being able to appreciate the preciously healthy child that I am blessed to be a motehr to. How can I mourn for a child and then not be a perfect mother to the one I have? How can I not appreciate her a million times more? I guess maybe because I want us both to be perfect now and of course neither one of us are. She will still throw a toddler fit, and I will still lose my patience. I just wish I could have a calm time with her these days. I wish she could help us through our grief instead of make us miserable. I feel really bad about how this morning went.

Today we have to go and see my doctor... she might have information back from the lab of the "tissue" that they "analyzed" or she might not. She might just have the information that their information was "inconclusive". I couldn't wait to leave the hospital on Monday when we returned for that ultrasound, and I don't want to have to go back to see any more doctors or any more hospital staff... I hate the way they act about all of it. They don't understand a parent's grief, they see this as such a daily routine. The receptionist at the doctor's office was even saying something on the phone like "so you were only 11 weeks then?" and I just couldn't believe it! Only?! Well I'm sorry I was attached to my child, my fetus, my baby, before your recommended timeline. When is an ok time for a baby to die? When will you allow me to feel pain over it? Would 12 weeks be only? what about 13? If I'd made it halfway there, would I be allowed to be sad? She was apologetic when I calmly suggested that maybe saying "only" was a bit insensitive, but still stammered that she only meant that the baby was still very "young". I saved my rage for after the phone call.

I have already had to hear a lot of similar comments and already I am dead sick of them and want to smack people in the face when I hear them, I get so angry at them for denying my grief and pain. I don't care if this was "for the best" because otherwise I would have given birth to a baby with disabilities or that was deformed or whatever other story people come up with. I don't care if it's "meant to be", I don't care if "the universe will go on". Right now, for us, it feels like our baby was the most special baby in the world and we were waiting for the day that she would be born and would bless our lives with her light and joy. We could already imagine how happy our lives would be by adding this small member to our family. We already wondered about what kind of adventures we would have with our children. So much has been taken away from us, not just a small bundle of tissue, as the doctors have been calling her. Our precious little light and life has been taken from us, and I don't care if it's "God's plan" or not - I wish she hadn't been taken from us... Even if it's "better" that I didn't lose her farther along in the pregnancy and it's "great" that I was able to "naturally" deliver my unborn child, the "best" would have been if she was born alive and healthy, 6 and a half months from now... and that was not even an unrealistic "best" to strive for as many parents get to experience that! Why are we the only parents right now who seem to be denied that? We would have been such loving parents to this baby, why weren't we allowed to keep her?

That's all I can write for now... still in bits and pieces. I hate getting upset and crying, I'm in so much pain from crying, I'm already sick of crying so much and I'm still only beginning to scratch the surface. I'll write more later.

Journal entry #4 ~ October 31st ~ 9am

So until I know what to do, I'm just doing nothing. Just letting myself feel how I feel, cry when I need to cry, get angry when I feel angry, and just wait. I thought it would feel good, but it doesn't. Even thought maybe it's the "best" thing for me right now, it still doesn't feel right. Last night Paul helped me sort through my clothes - I had to put away all my maternity clothes even though my regular clothes probably won't fit. I have two standard "uniforms", my pyjamas and my jogging pants. I feel like I don't even want to leave the house, because I don't look normal either way. I refuse to wear maternity clothes... strange to think about how only a week ago I loved them so much because they were comfortable and made me feel pregnant even though my belly was still small. I was really looking forward to having a nice big belly...

At one point yesterday, I forgot. I forgot I wasn't pregnant and was rubbing my belly absent-mindedly until I noticed what I was doing... I feel so empty and by myself. I remember feeling that on Tuesday morning, but that was before I was ready to even start writing here. The first thing I thought of that morning was how alone I felt. I tried to describe it to Paul because he was saying "I'm right here besided you", but it wasn't that kind of alone. It was just a feeling, a spiritual "sense" that someone was missing... I described it by painting the scenario - you're alone in a room in a museum, and there's one other person that you saw was in the room with you. While your back is turned looking at the art, they leave the room and you don't see or hear them, but you can somehow sense that you're now alone. I don't know if this is a commonly experienced feeling, but I know sometimes people have these senses, like how you know sometimes when you are being watched. We can be aware of so many things on so many levels. I feel somehow I was aware of my baby, even though she was too small for my to physically feel her movements. Now I feel completely alone, and it's been strange getting used to that feeling, after having the sensation of carrying around another human life for a couple months.

So emotionally, I am feeling alone and cut off and just detached. I feel like I've been shattered. I don't have any instructions of how to repair myself. I feel like I don't know how to feel right now, and I can't predict how I will actually feel, so I am really lost about all that.

Physically, I am not doing very well at all. I am still bleeding very heavily, even though it's the 6th day of heavy bleeding. I am still having bad cramping, although at least my only "contractions" were on Sat/Sunday while I was in the hospital and a bit before I went in. We still have the ultrasound papers though that said my endometrium was a little thicker than expected, so it may be a while. I feel weak as well, and have been having a few dizzy spells, as well as headaches. Sometimes I feel up to going out (Paul and I did a bit of shopping yesterday, trying to find some nice keepsake boxes to start putting the baby's things away in... we didn't find them though), but after walking for more than a half hour or hour, the cramps start getting really bad and I need to stop or slow down. They get really painful when I do a lot of activity, so I've mostly been scared out of doing that. I like staying home, sitting on the couch, reading a book about grief or distracting myself with a movie... it hurts less and I can have my heat pack close by, which I find helpful to ease the pain. My blood systems have not returned to normal by a long shot - Harmony stood up with her head knocking me right in the nose and it took over 15 minutes for the blood to clot and stop even with constant pressure. I was coughing up the blood afterwards and almost threw up. I was having a few chest pains before going in to the hospital, and had a very strong one after they gave me a shot in my left arm of some drug that is supposed to increase muscle contractions. I had more heart pains when they had me on the pill form of a muscle contraction drug, and thought they would stop after all the meds were out of my system but they haven't. I'm a little worried about that, since it's not something I expected. My belly is still pretty sore, and the muscles are really re-adjusting. In a way it is very much like I am recovering from having a baby under "normal" circumstances... my body has dropped in hormones and my belly has dropped in size, and my uterus is shedding the lining it was building up for a long time (almost 3 months since my last period at the beginning of August). It's like a scaled down version - losing 10 pounds of pregnancy weight including blood and amniotic fluid and extra breast weight, etc. instead of maybe 50, losing 3 months of blood lining instead of 9, dropping from a relatively high hormone level instead of a very high one... The changes are still very noticeable, and very different from when I lost my last baby at only 6 weeks... All in all, I feel physically very weak, which adds to my discomfort emotionally.

I should write about how the doctor's went... she didn't have any of the files from the hospital sent over, let alone the results about our baby and what happened, but at least I didn't have to get blood taken yesterday. I will go next week to see how low my HcG levels have dropped to. I'll have to keep getting blood taken until they are below 2. She "recommended" waiting at least 3 months after the levels have totally dropped to start trying to get pregnant again... it's something Paul and I had talked about a bit but something that has been hard... Right now I go back and forth between being desperate to get pregnant as soon as possible just to put all this pain to end and get back to where we were before. We were so excited about adding a baby to our family and feel so ready to start nurturing a little life... it just seems we can't make it far enough... But then sometimes I feel like that's it. I have a happy family right now with my wonderful partner and my amazing preschooler, what more could I need? I don't want to go through another miscarriage, I can't even deal with this one yet, I feel powerless and paralyzed in my grief, how can I risk putting everyone through this again? We're trying to sort it all out, but it may take some time before we come to any conclusions. We waited 6 months in between angel and this baby, and that felt like a long time. I think we may end up waiting longer this time though, or just not even daring to do it again. I feel so sad for Paul... as much as he loves his "step-daughter", he really wants to be a father to his own child, and I want that too. I know how amazingly powerful it is to look into your child's face and see some of your qualities and expressions and physical features reflected back at you. I want him to feel that same way. And I want to have that all again as well. I love children so much and feel like parenting is really something that I was born to do. I have nurtured my daughter through 9 months of pregnancy and through her first 4 years of life, and I've nurtured two tiny embryos through their growth and development the best I could. I want a chance to do it all again, but not if it's only going to bring more pain and disapointment and sadness to my family. Paul was saying he wishes there was some guarentee... that if we tried again, we would have a healthy baby at the end of a healthy pregnancy... I wish that existed.

I guess time will tell on all of these things. For now though, real life is still calling, and I'm glad I'm not too shattered to respond to the basics. My daughter will still have a fun Haloween tonight, even if I'm not feeling up to going trick-or-treating with her. I have a session tomorrow with a counsellor, so maybe that will give me the breakthrough and direction I need in order to focus my grief and have it go somewhere helpful to get me feeling a bit better, if I'm ready that is (I'm not sure if I want to "get better" yet).

Journal entry #5 ~ October 31st ~ 2pm

These are just two of the many people that have supporting Paul and I through the week and it really has been wonderful. I don't know how we could have done it without them, and I think it really has made our healing process that much easier. Paul's mother and sister have been amazingly supportive, they were our strength in the hospital when we needed it the most. I will always remember and appreciate their visit. My friends have been great as well. 3 of my best friends - Aimée, Cynthia, and Sarah, have sent us their love and various forms of support that have helped us cope. Just their constant pressence (whether on the phone, via email, or in person) and reminders that they are here for us have been crucial in this time of healing.

I'm starting to reach out, to try to find answers and support. I'm starting to feel like I need a direction, like I need somewhere to place my grief, to try to process it, start turning it into something healthy. I still feel lost and overwhelmed, but I feel like the very first steps are starting, just baby tiny steps. I am not as afraid to face my pain head on. I'm starting to open up, to want to talk about what I'm experiencing, to want to recognize that I am a mother of 3 children - one here on earth and two now in heaven. I want that to be acknowledged.

Physically, I don't have the strength yet. My emotional healing may have to wait a little while until I am strong enough to do what I need to do. I save up my energy in little pieces to make a few little dents in what I want to do, here and there, but so far it's not enough. We are still sleeping alot in our sadness, I think just from the sheer mental exhaustion of going through this grief. I do feel really mentally drained as well as physically. We take little breaks, which are very helpful. And of course when Harmony is home, it is tiring sometimes to have to "go on" as normal with her, but in a way it is a relief. A reason to put our mourning on a shelf, tuck it away for a later time. She makes us laugh so much, this little earth angel, that it's very hard to be devastated and sad around her. I think tonight will still be fun, to see her in her little costume. I thank God for my little blessing Harmony. It makes it so much easier in so many ways to have a healthy child who is so beautiful and smart, to spend time with while healing...

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