Category Archives: Miscarriage

9 Months…

I happened to glance at Aaron’s ticker on my Mys pace page the other day.  It had been exactly 9 months since we said good bye.  9 month, to the day.  He has now been gone for the exact amount of time that I should have held him under my heart. 

9 months in the span of a lifetime is nothing.  Yet 9 months to create a life seems like forever. 

So much has changed in 9 months.  I almost lost Aaron’s daddy.  If I had lost him, I would have lost him in the same month in which we lost our final baby. My heart still pounds when I think about that month.  I can still relive each of those days and nights as if they were yesterday.  Only this time its as if I am watching some one else play the parts of my life that were so terror filled.  As the images flicker on the movie screen of my memory the pain isn’t nearly as severe.  The images not quite so opaque.

Time heals all wounds, and in this case its true…and all it took was a little over 9 months to realize that I was already there.


Aaron Jacob…

aaronI don’t know if it was because I wanted a boy, or if it was just wishful thinking but from the moment that I knew we conceived I knew we were having a boy.  Just like when I was pregnant the first time we made the “mistake” of choosing a name.  We found out I was pregnant on Monday, confirmed it on Tuesday and named him on  Wednesday.  Two weeks later he was gone.

A friend of mine said “you seem to be taking this loss harder than the others”  I have pondered that as well.  I answered her with what I believe to be true-as true as I knew that Aaron was a boy-“Its because I know he was the last one”  Something else I can’t put a finger on.  Just as I knew I would become pregnant with him, I know now I won’ tbe pregnant again.

Today is hard, but not as hard as I anticipated it to be.  Aaron could have arrived today or tomorrow depending on which due date calendar you checked.  I just wonder would he have been bald?  His daddy is folicularly challenged.  His daddy has brown eyes and I have green-just like my sisters and their husbands combos, but each have blue eyed children.  What color would Aaron’s eyes have been?  He would have been long I imagine as both of his parents are blessed with height.  What I don’t have to wonder about is how he would have been loved.  All sets of his grandparents would have been on high alert.  Each jockeying for position so they could be first to hold him.  Yes, Aaron would have been loved….he is loved, and forever will be.

My sweet little baby whose heart I hold forever in mine.  I wait for the day when I finally am able to hold you in my arms in heaven.

I am a childless mother who loves and misses you every day.

Time Flys…

Today should mark the begining of my maternity leave.

Monday, December 15th was my due date and since I have type 2 diabetes odds were not in my favor that they would let me go into labor on any date past that point.

Today I should have walked into my office for the last time until February.  My belly should be swollen beyond what is considered humanly possible.  I should be maneuvering the small space between the edge of my desk and the filing cabinet as I make my way to my chair.  Lunch would have been  had with the two people whom I enjoy sparring with-W would have advised a completely natural child birth with only herbs and a stick to bite for pain relief.  G-would have rolled her eyes and laughed as I said HELL NO, knock me out with a bat and wake me up when Aaron is 21.  No wait, make that 40.  By then he would be married, and I would hopefully have grand kids.  Yes, this should have been the day that began my maternity leave.

Instead on this snow covered day I am at home, but not for that reason.  I am at home because its a Friday and that is my day off from work.  Instead of folding little baby clothes and packing our bag for the hospital I will be cleaning out the kitty litter box, and mopping the kitchen floor.  Instead of counting diapers to make sure we have enough I will be counting tampons just in case AF shows up.  Instead of enjoying my last baby free weekend by going out with my hubby for one last romantic dinner I will be braving the malls and stores with my sister as we shop for Christmaswares.

Time has flown.  I remember my surgery that led us to this miracle pregnancy, at my post op Dr. T handed me my pictures of my laparascopy and said “Next we will ad photos of your baby’s first ultrasound”  When 8 weeks later the stick(s) all turned positive December seemed like a life time away.  9 months is a long time to wait for something that took ten years to be the one who would be born.  Yet now its here, and my heart and my arms are empty.  Boy how time flys…

UPDATED:  Now my period is starting.  HTF am I going to get through this weekend now?

Wrapping It Up…

wrapping1Tonight I began the task of wrapping the gifts that have been purchased over the last two days.  Among them are a new Barbie in a Pink Bug for Sara, a Fisher Price town for Timothy, and a Hot Wheels Play set for Tyler.  Each wrapped under white paper with colorful Christmas candies printed on it.

As I wrapped I thought of the gifts still left to buy.  Jacob and I had agreed that Christmas wasn’t going to be that special this year so we would skip it.  My sister commented how this year will be the hardest.  I said that the 15th of December, like October the 1st, and even April 8th will always be hard.  Its simply unfortunate that Christmas falls in December.  Despite all of this I felt the need to participate in the obligatory gift exchanges amongst the family, and among Jacob and myself.  So far he is the proud owner to be of some Joe Boxer lounge pants and not much more.  Certainly we are not off to an auspicious beginning by any stretch.

It was not however the contents of the paper that gave me pause, but rather the gift tags.  As I penned the name of each recipient underneath I wrote the words Aunt Susan, and Uncle Jacob repetitively.  I wondered silently will I ever be able to write the name of a child and under it put Love Mommy and Daddy on the from line.  Will it ever be our child who jumps into our bed on Christmas Day and tells us that Santa had come the night before?  Will it ever be our child who opens up a new Barbie and shrieks because it was the one they have “always” wanted?  Will it ever be our child who asks his daddy to take him outside in the snow so that he can ride his new sled?  Will it ever be us who stand in line on Black Friday at 4 a.m. because the only gift our child wants is the one that every other child on the continent wants as well?  Or will we forever simply be Aunt Susan and Uncle Jacob?

I know, there is still much to do before the day and I shouldn’t over think it, but I can’t help but do just that…The cycle I haven’t been talking about will be over well before Christmas arrives, though I have decided not to even contemplate testing until Christmas Eve if there is a need.  I wonder will I be wrapping up the stick that says we are 6 weeks pregnant that night and handing to Jacob the next day?  Or instead will we be trudging on that same night to my parents house to watch the little ones open their gifts with hardened hearts?  Or should I look upon that holiday as I have each other day since May 1st…as being one day closer to wrapping up the year that was hell?

Infant Loss and Miscarriage Rememberance Day 10/15

Tomorrow is for Aaron, who was to be born two months from October 15th for Issac who would have turned 11 in May,  and for those babies  in between whom we didn’t name.  Tomorrow is for Edward Lucas R. who was born sleeping  with catastrophic birth defects that ultrasound, and CVS didn’t discover.  This is  for Hannah who suffered a cord accident and left her mothers arms far sooner than she was ready for.  This is  for the twins whose arrival was to be a miracle, for Kathy’s first pregnancy that ended too soon, for the therapists first and now second pregancy that has recently been lost,  and this is for Ernest who like Lucas and Hannah were born sleeping.  Tomorrow is for all of  babies who were born and lost far too soon.  October 15th is for each of you.

For some you were with us only for a momemt, for others your room was waiting and we believed that nothing could harm us.  For each of you October 15th this year and all years is when we remember all of you on the same day.

If you haven’t been affected by infertility or a personal loss  you may not be aware that there are many who suffer in silence around you.  The one who appears to have it all; the car, the house, the money to travel but who doesn’t have the baby in her arms is the one who suffers the most.  Take a moment tomorrow and remember the littles of angels who fly in the heavens because they were too pure to walk on the Earth.

Not Quite The Ride I Had In Mind…

So we now know how Jacob is feeling, but how about me? Do I white knuckle it when I see the One Step Ahead Catalog? Do I hyperventilate when I go to Giant Eagle and need to pick up garbage bags only to realize the opposite space of the isle is full of baby paraphernalia? Am I still angry at God? If you haven’t noticed I hate writing about ME. I can write about any other subject, including myself so long as I am abstract rather than the center of attention. Ironic for a middle child who thrives on both positive and negative re-enforcement isn’t it?

So here it goes…a post all about me and my feelings.  Right?

As a youngster my dad and mom took we girls to Kennywood. Kennywood is our local amusement park that is home to four of the tamest roller coasters known to man. Yet at 10 the Thunder Bolt  was daring and dangerous (and yes those are the tallest hills)  and I wanted to go on.  I begged as a matter of fact.  I wanted nothing more than to be tall enough to ride, and rejoiced when I discovered that I was.  My mom didn’t ride but my dad did so he took me by the hand and we stood in line. As we stood amongst the hot and sweaty crowd I watched the cars do several circuits and heard the screams as they swooshed by at the end of a banked curve. Towards the front of the line I told my dad “I don’t want to do this any more, I dont’ want to ride.  I want to go ride something else” My dad having stood in line on a hot crowded day made his position equally clear “If we get out of line now we are going home” Of course I did not want to go home, so I got on the ride. Unbeknown to me when the ride started you were plunged down a hill into a ravine. I was petrified, I tucked my head under his arm and frantically repeated “Don’t let me die daddy, don’t let me die”  at the top of my lungs.  It was 6 years before I was brave enough to dare another coaster again.

Can you imagine? Being 16 and never experiencing the thrill of a roller coaster? Only it wasn’t a coaster as such that got me over my fear. It was the Demon Drop of all beasts. I was in Georgia spending a week with my aunt and adult cousins who insisted on taking me to Six Flags Over Georgia. Having never been to a park this large I had never seen much less heard of the Demon Drop but I willing to give it a try, until we got to the top, once again I wanted to get out of line and off of the ride. Only once  at the top the only way down is in the car. Knowing this I climbed in and was strapped down.  I clung to the over the shoulder harness for dear life and tightly squinted my eye lids together. I listened as the car clicked out over the nothingness below and waited for the drop, and waited, and waited.  Then it came, a rush of air and we were riding the rail to the bottom. All I can remember is not being able to exhale. I couldn’t scream, and I certainly couldn’t breathe. After that experience I realized that

1. I wasn’t dead and

2. I hadn’t fallen out. The safety bar protected me.

Well that is how I feel now. I started the journey with great anticipation for the unknown. Then I got on and was immediately plunged down a ravine before a chain pulled me up again. Somewhere in the middle I held on to my partner and screamed “Don’t let me die” Then I wait what seemed like 6 years before I tried again only to realize that not only was I alive, but that I kind of enjoyed the terrifying thrill when I got back on.

When we have tried for me to become pregnant I feel like I am standing in line. When we have lost those babies I am screaming “don’t let me die” Then after I wandering around the park watching those who can easily get on get off the ride laughing I become a little angry. Why can’t I get on the ride so easily? Why aren’t I laughing when I get off? Then all of a sudden someone takes me by the hand and says “come on lets ride this” and while I am petrified I realize that it didn’t kill me, and yes I want to go again.

That is where I am at. I will be honest I am jealous of those of you who are pregnant, but can’t wait to “meet” the new babies.  I have however come to the realization that just because I am in line doesn’t entitle me to a ride much less a successful one,  yet if I don’t stand there and wait my turn I will never know if the next time it will be me who gets off smiling. Yet I am past the point where I hyperventilate in the super market, or where I burst into tears when a catalog arrives that I ordered. In reality I am looking forward to getting back on the ride, and hoping that at the end that I get off and am smiling. Where as I think Jacob is like my dad “If we get out of line again we are going home…”

And yes…I know, even this was writing about me in the abstract…

Scenes From The Mail…

While I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, Jacob tends to side on the other end of the spectrum.  Rarely do you know what or how he is feeling.  Minute terror, and over zealous joy are emoted in identical ways.  Yet when you have been married for as long as we have the width of the spectrum decreases and even slight changes in personality are easily identified, yet the catalyst often is not until well after the event.


So begins todays tale…


My habit, since Jacob arrives at the ol’ homestead hours before I do is to call to find out what goodies arrived in the mail.  Typically he will give me the run down-student loan bill, water bill, electric bill, a magazine and some junk mail.  Or on that rare occasion when Duquesne Light spares me the monotony of writing yet another check to further their cause he will simply say “a magazine for you and some junk mail”  So yesterday when he answered sharply “Nothing, now what do you want?”  I was a bit taken aback but didn’t press the issue.  Instead when I arrived at the same abode an hour and a half later I discovered the cause of his upheaval.  There it sat, on top of the Woman’s Day, but below the Giant Eagle circular in all of its glossy glory staring up from the table was a One Step Ahead catalog.


See, when I became pregnant this last time I did many unthinkable things that I never have done in the past.  “Come on lets go tell your mom I’m pregnant.  Nothing is going to go wrong” coupled with filling out catalog requests from every baby filled box store from JC Penney to One Step Ahead.  I dreamed of October arrived, me being 7 months pregnant and the house beginning to fill with pink or blue bobbles.  After all, what could go wrong this time?  Of course the first catalog arrived just days after my Methotrexate injection, and on that day it was Jacob who had to pry the glossy catalog from my white knuckled fingers.  He promised me that he would go through the mail from that day on and dispose of any baby related item that crossed our threshold.


As time wore on and the sore scabbed over that promise seemingly was forgotten yet with each arrival his mood would dip.  I didn’t give this much thought until last Thursday when I begged him to go to the big box store with me so that I could buy the ingredients for a baby shower gift.  As I crossed over into the carpeted area denoting all things infant, Jacob refused to even toe the line.  Instead a quick molting of his brow lead into “I will be in electronics come get me when you are done” At the cash register his grumbling continued as pink items rode up the belt.  Believing that it was the total of the purchase that upset him I quickly shoved the receipt in my wallet and went home in abject silence.


The following evening as I was hand tying 56 size one diapers I looked up and said “You know someone should be doing this for my shower next month” But he didn’t respond verbally, instead his eyes glassed and he quickly looked away.  It wasn’t until I moved the catalog into rubber maid file pile that I realized what was going on.  For him those little pink baubles, and the catalogs entering the house with order forms that like our dream remain unfulfilled is a constant reminder of what should have been…sadly as December 15th approaches the marketing departments will simply step up their efforts in an attempt to garner business for a baby that should have been…ironically this is the emotional  response from someone who professes to not NEED to be a parent…