When Anna was born, I was aware of the concept of kangaroo care and I knew it was something I wanted to do with her as soon as possible. When she was one week old, her umbilical lines were removed and I was able to hold her for the first time! It was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. I was so happy to finally be holding my own living child, but just two days prior we had received the devastating news of her brain bleeds and the weight of all of my experiences as a mother were heavy. I felt happy, sad, relieved, and afraid. I didn't know if it would the the first and only time I would hold her and I grieved for what I never experienced with Patricia. I also had unrealistic expectations. After all of the research we had done about the benefits of kangaroo care, I expected Anna to just melt into my chest and immediately relax and develop normal heart and breathing rates and for it to be this amazing bonding experience. I expected to finally feel like a mother. However, Anna was barley 27 weeks old,still under two pounds, and on a ventilator. It took a team of people to get her on my chest and she tolerated being held for a little while but eventually she got upset and her oxygen level began to drop so we had to put her back in the incubator.
First time being held by Mommy
Totally worth it!
When we tried again a couple of days later, we both did a little better but unfortunately the vent tubes gave us trouble which resulted in a traumatic experience when Anna's oxygen and heart rates dropped very low and the room exploded with alarms and people. I ended up crying in the corner while Anna was bagged and the respiratory therapists worked to stabilize her. The sadness, anger, guilt, and fear I felt was powerful.
Thankfully, Cliff and I supported and encouraged each other to keep trying. We waited to hold her again until she was on CPAP which meant she was breathing on her own and even if the tubes got a little messy in transition, she could still breathe. Sometimes she liked it for just a few minutes, sometimes much longer. Sometimes it calmed her down, sometimes it made her restless and upset. With more encouragement from her care team, we charged on. She was just over two weeks old when her daddy got to hold her.
First time being held by Daddy
As our time in the NICU continued, we became champions of kangaroo care, literally! The hospital physical therapy team was in the process of rolling out a program to encourage kangaroo care and we did an on-camera interview regarding the benefits of kangaroo care for parents. We became celebrities as the video was shown to all staff and Cliff and Anna's photo was put on a flyer hung in all the NICU rooms! Cliff was named the Kangaroo Care King by the physical therapy team.
Cliff and Anna's picture on the flyer
First time holding Anna without tubes!
As Anna grew and became more comfortable with our touch, kangaroo care became the biggest part of our day. Cliff and I would trade off holding her, sometimes up to 12 hours a day. We were lucky to be in a NICU with all-private rooms and the ability to room in so we could shut the door, pull up the computer, and watch movies and TV shows on Netflix while we held her. It was the next best thing to being at home in our living room! We (and her care team) truly believe that the hours and hours of kangaroo care we did with Anna have greatly contributed to the progress she has made in her development. It also made a difference in our confidence as parents and our overall NICU experience.
I plan to do kangaroo care with all our future babies and may even get my kangaroo on with Anna tonight. It's never too late!
This is the second part of the story of Patricia's birth, written in May of 2012. We were scheduled early in the morning on Thursday, March 29th, 2012. When we arrived, the nurse took us right back to ground zero. Again, she put gel on my belly and started up the machine. I held Cliff’s hand as she confirmed that our first child was no longer living. Before coming in that morning, we had decided to try to find out whether we were having a boy or a girl. But baby’s legs were crossed tightly and we couldn’t see. We were meant to be surprised upon delivery, just like we had planned. My Dr. checked me and said that my body hadn’t made any progress on its own. This was not surprising, but could make the induction harder. She said she had alerted labor and delivery that I would arrive at 3pm that afternoon to begin the induction. She again warned me that the process could take many hours, especially since I was a first time mom and it was just too soon. Although she wouldn’t be in labor and delivery that day, she was scheduled to be on call on Friday so she would be with me all day and all night. When we left the hospital, Cliff and I tried to think of ways to pass the time. We stopped by a bookstore to get some reading material for the hospital. A few doors down from there was the AAA travel agency. We decided to stop in for a bit and do some vacation planning. At the time, we just wanted to get away. We talked with the agent about Mexico and the Caribbean, and got some magazines to take with us. As we were leaving, she asked when I was due. I broke down and we ran out and drove home. My parents picked us up around 2:30pm and we headed to the hospital. We brought our hospital bag with pajamas, snacks, water, books, and computers. I was scared, but calm. We took the elevator up to the second floor, just like we had been told to at the birthing seminar Cliff and I attend a couple of weeks prior. When we got to the maternity floor, we forgot our way and walked into the postpartum side. We asked where to check in and the nurse said cheerfully “oops, back to the other side! You’ll be back here later!” We wouldn’t. At that point I started crying and followed as we were guided to the labor and delivery side. The nurse behind the desk first motioned to the sign in sheets but upon realizing who we were, she quietly led us to our room. It was isolated, away from the others, and the staff had placed a white flower on the door to signify the purpose of our visit. We had some time to get acquainted with our room before our first nurse came to introduce herself. She brought me all of the forms to fill out and helped me get into the hospital gown and figure out how to use the adjustable bed. Then the waiting began. They had to receive instructions from the Dr. on call regarding my first dosage. In the meantime, the nurse placed a hep lock on my left wrist and told me a little about pain management. Then, more waiting. At 5pm, she came back in and administered my first dose of Cytotec. According to the Dr., I was to receive additional doses every four hours. Therefore, the waiting continued. I sat in the bed and Cliff and my parents were scattered around the room. We read through the folder of information the hospital gave us about stillbirth and talked about the vacation we were thinking of taking. A few visitors from church stopped by to talk to Mom, but I wasn’t up for seeing anyone. Eventually, Mom and Dad decided to go get some dinner. My Dr. said I could eat or drink whatever I wanted, so they were going to meet my brother for dinner and bring back some for Cliff and me. While they were gone, Cliff and I tried to give each other support and distract ourselves by reading, getting on the computer, and watching tv. At some point, the night nurse came in to check on us and introduce herself. Her name was Janet. Mom and my brother arrived back at the hospital first. They had stopped by Buy Buy Baby to pick up something for our baby to wear, a blue outfit and a pink outfit. Dad had to wait for our food to be cooked before returning. When he arrived, we ate our burgers and French fries. Then, the five of us sat in my hospital room and talked about random things. We even laughed a few times. Looking back, I think we were all in such a state of shock that we weren’t allowing ourselves to feel the weight of all the sadness surrounding the event. We were looking forward to meeting the newest member of our family. By 9pm, I was starting to feel some small contractions and it was time for my second dose of Cytotec. This time, the dosage was doubled. Not too long after that, my family left to go home. We all wanted to try to get as much sleep as possible because we expected Friday to be a long, rough day. After they left, Cliff and I again tried to distract ourselves. We discovered that reading was tough, since we would read and re-read the same sentence over and over and still not comprehend its meaning. We browsed the internet, and watched Netflix on my ipad. A couple of weeks before, we had started watching the tv show Monk from the beginning, so we saw a couple of episodes of that. My contractions started picking up, and I had a monitor on my belly so we could see them on the screen. When Janet came back for my third dose at 1am, they were getting pretty uncomfortable. I knew I did not want to “be a martyr” as the first Dr. put it, meaning natural childbirth was no longer my plan. However, I also did not want to receive demerol through an IV because I wanted to be in a conscious state of mind when my child was born. Although I knew I would likely choose to get an epidural, I did not want to get one this early because I was afraid it would slow down my labor. At this point, I was only 1cm dilated. (This is where I should have asked more questions. Little did I know, nothing could stop or slow down contractions induced with Cytotec!) I agreed to take a couple of sleeping pills. We hoped it would help me relax and possibly sleep for a few hours despite the contractions. Our plan did not work. By 2am, my contractions were very strong and painful. Cliff was lying behind me in the hospital bed trying to rub my back and comfort me as I cried out, but there was little he could do to lessen the pain. We called for Janet and requested an epidural. I did not realize how long it would take the anesthesiologist to get to us. That hour of waiting was the most difficult hour of my life. I was hooked up to the IV machine in order to receive fluids. My contractions were coming one right after the other with no break in between and they were very powerful. I was trying to remember everything we had learned in birthing class and I was yelling at Cliff “I’m breathing, I’m breathing.” I got up and walked around, I leaned over the bed with Cliff rubbing my lower back, I held on to Cliff as tight as I could, but nothing helped. The emotional pain we were both feeling magnified the physical pain I felt from the contractions. It seemed so unfair. Finally, at 3am, the anesthesiologist was ready. I signed the paperwork mid-contraction and sat facing sideways on the bed. I was told to lean over and arch my back and remain still, which is quite hard when you are in active labor! The pain of the needle shocked me and Cliff says he will never forget the face I made as it went in. Then I could feel the cold anesthetic flowing and I willed it to take effect quickly. The Dr. said it could take up to 45 minutes to be in full effect. As the minutes passed, I could feel the pain of the contractions lightening. However, there was a “hot spot” running right down my belly that was still feeling a lot of pain and the Dr. had to put more anesthetic in and have me lie on my side so it would be sure to get to that area. By 4am, the epidural was in full effect and I was able to relax. At this point, the nurse checked me and I was dilated to 5cm and fully effaced. Cliff and I decided to try to get some sleep. He and Janet rearranged the furniture in the room so that he could pull out the small bed in the loveseat, but he felt too far away and eventually sat in a chair next to the bed so he could be closer to me. Due to the combination of being tired after the contractions, the epidural, and the sleeping pills, I fell into a deep sleep rather quickly. At 7:30am, the daytime nurse came in to introduce herself and check my progress. When she lifted my sheet open, she discovered our baby lying peacefully between my legs, still in her amniotic sac. She left to get my Dr. while Cliff called home to let Mom and Dad know to come back to the hospital. I was still waking up when my Dr. came in and we were all surprised to discover that I had delivered a perfect little angel while I slept. It was if my body and our child wanted to give me the gift of avoiding the emotional and physical pain of the final stages of labor. I am grateful for that gift. My Dr. lifted our baby onto a holder. She opened the sac, cut and clamped the umbilical cord and then placed our firstborn into my arms in a blanket with tiny footprints on it. She told us that we were the parents of a baby girl. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that after all of this, I had a beautiful baby girl, and I was going to have to say goodbye to her. In my mind I begged her to cry out and to take a breath. I begged for it all to be a mistake. Cliff captured a few of our first moments as a family with our camera. We cried over her tiny little body and I did not want to let her go. We told her her name was Patricia Kirsten. When I became calm again, we agreed to let the nurses take her and clean her up and put her little pink outfit on. Soon after my family arrived, the nurse brought Patricia back in to her family. She was in her pink sleeper and hat and wrapped in a yellow knit blanket. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was beautiful. The shape of her eyes and nose were just like Cliff’s. Her lips were delicate and red. Her hands and feet were the most precious in the world. She was our baby. They told us she weighed 4 pounds and 2 ounces, and she was 16.5 inches long. I couldn’t believe how big she was, and that an hour ago she had been a part of me. Later, the photographers from the organization Now I lay Me Down to Sleep arrived to take pictures of Patricia with us. They were very kind, and we are thankful for their presence that morning. My aunt and uncle also visited us and met Patricia. I don’t know how long we spent with her. Eventually, everyone left the room and gave Cliff and I the chance to say a private goodbye to our precious baby girl. In those moments, which will never be enough, we told her how much we loved her. We told her how much we wanted her and how sad we were that we would not get to see her grow up. We told her that she would always be our first child, and that we would remember her and love her forever. And we will.
In May of 2012 I finally felt ready and able to document the details of Patricia's birth. I have never shared it publicly but knowing how much it helped me to read others' stories, I am sharing it now. On Monday, March 26th, 2012 I went to work after a wonderful babymoon weekend in San Antonio with Cliff. I was excited because I was reducing my counseling schedule to two nights a week which meant I would get to go straight home to enjoy a walk with Cliff. During our walk, I didn’t notice baby moving or kicking much. I tried to remember the last time I felt movement but I couldn’t pinpoint it because I had been busy at work that day and baby was usually more active at night anyway. After we ate dinner, I sat in the recliner and relaxed, hoping baby would take advantage of the extra space and say hello to us. I started to get a little worried when after two hours of relaxing and watching tv, I still felt no definite movement. We decided to go to bed and I tried lying on my left side because baby usually got very active at this time when I was in this position. When I felt nothing, I began to get even more worried. Being a first time mom who is also in graduate school (and thus not fully up to date on my pregnancy reading to the week), I wasn’t sure what was normal at this point. Cliff and I considered going to the emergency room, but we convinced ourselves that everything was probably fine and they wouldn’t be able to do anything for us anyway. I decided to go to my Dr.’s office first thing in the morning, just to make sure. It was a restless night. We woke up on Tuesday morning feeling grey. I convinced Cliff that I would be fine at the Dr. by myself and he should plan to bike home from work as usual. This meant that I would drop him off at work and go straight to my Dr. I texted my boss that I’d be in late because I had to stop at the Dr. on the way. I think Cliff and I both desperately wanted to believe that everything was okay, even if deep down we sensed something was really wrong. On the way to Cliff’s office, we both voiced the thought that if there was a problem, I would call Cliff and he would get a ride to the Dr.’s office from his coworker. We were both in denial. I arrived at the Dr.’s office just before they opened at 8:30am. There was no one in the waiting room but the front desk was staffed so I walked up and explained to the receptionist that I was 31 weeks pregnant and I hadn’t felt the baby move since Sunday. I knew my Dr. was at one of the office’s other locations that day, but the receptionist said they would get me in with another Dr. I took a seat in the waiting room, and even while I was sitting there, I was trying to convince myself that baby was fine. I felt a couple of twinges and thought to myself “I think I just felt something, I’m so silly for being here.” A few minutes later, a nurse called me back. She took my weight and led me back to the sonogram room where we had first seen baby on the monitor, 22 weeks ago. She put gel on my belly and started up the machine. She let me know she was just taking some measurements and then left the room to get the Dr. I continued to lie there, a terrible feeling building up inside of me. She hadn’t said “Oh, everything looks great” or showed me baby’s heartbeat like I was desperately praying for. I started praying to God and the universe to please make everything okay. The nurse and the Dr. came back in after a few minutes and she started up the machine again. The Dr. pointed to the screen and said “Here is the chest cavity. Here is where we’d expect to see a heartbeat and it’s just not beating.” My world collapsed. I gasped loudly. I couldn’t breathe. I simply couldn’t believe it. As I started to cry I asked him, “Are you sure, are you sure?” He was. The Dr. said he didn’t see any signs of bleeding or tearing, and that everything looked as it should. He said that it was probably an accident involving baby’s cord, and that there was nothing I could have done to cause or prevent it. He said sometimes these things just happen. He told me that he would schedule me an appointment with my Dr. on Thursday morning, two days from then, and she would check to see if my body made any progress on its own to deliver baby. He said that I would be induced Thursday afternoon and that the process could take a couple of days. He also told me not to “be a martyr,” to get something for the pain. He said he was very sorry. I remember calling Cliff and telling him that he needed to get his coworker to drive him to the hospital immediately. I said “We lost the baby.” I hate that I had to make that phone call. I hate that I was in such denial that I didn’t let him come with me to the Dr.’s office that morning. My poor husband had to find out about the death of our first child, the center of our hopes and dreams, over the phone. My next call was to my coworker to let her know why I wouldn’t be in the office that day, and to ask if she could tell my boss what happened. I will be forever grateful that she took that burden from me. They let me sit there waiting for Cliff, who had to wait for his coworker to get to work before he could get a ride. They brought me water and tissues, and a nice receptionist came back to comfort me and tell me her own story of her son who was stillborn over 20 years ago due to a cord accident. The whole time, I prayed for it to be a dream, a terrible nightmare. Eventually they asked me to move to a different room to wait, and I was happy to get out of that one, which felt to me like ground zero. Soon after, Cliff arrived. He walked into the room where I was sitting in a chair and he went down to his knees, held me, and we cried together. I asked him if it was a dream, or if it was real. He confirmed that it was real, though we still couldn’t believe it. When we felt ready, we left the room and a nurse led us out a back exit so we did not have to go through the waiting room. It was almost 10am. Cliff managed to drive us home safely. When we got inside, I immediately moved all of baby’s things into the nursery. Our beautiful stroller, which we had been proudly displaying in the living room, was not something I could look at. Nor was the car seat, or any of the gifts from the baby shower my coworkers held for me the previous weekend. We decided not to tell my parents until we could tell them both together. That meant we had to pass the hours somehow. After some crying and hugging, we decided that it might be better if we left the house. There were just too many memories and plans. We went to the Japanese gardens, hoping for some peace and serenity but were disappointed to find that construction nearby took away from the quiet atmosphere. Additionally, the babies and toddlers there with their families were too much for us to handle. We decided to go home and attempt to distract ourselves with a silly movie. We rented “Tower Heist,” knowing that it was a movie neither of us would ever want to see again. When 5:00pm finally came, we prepared to go over to my parents’ house and let them in on our misery. I know they were expecting some news because I had texted Dad earlier in the day to see when he would be home. I am sure that they never expected this. None of us did. They were waiting for us in the living room when we got there. They stood up when they saw us, and asked how things were. I said “not good.” I told them that I had been to the Dr. that morning because I didn’t feel baby move the night before. I said that they did an ultrasound, and that the baby’s heart had stopped beating. Mom immediately began to cry, but unlike the happy tears she cried when we first told her of her new status as a grandmother, these were heavy sobs. We cried together on the couch for a while before I was able to explain everything the Dr. had said. Dad called my brother and told him the sad news. I couldn’t talk to anyone. The next 48 hours are blurry in my memory. We survived like robots. Eating when food was put in front of us, sleeping when it became dark, and crying until our eyes dried out. We all did research about stillbirth and what to expect and shared notes. We talked about what it might be like and some of the decisions that had to be made. We received flowers from friends and family, and delicious cookies from my brother. Strangely, we looked forward to Thursday morning, when I would have another ultrasound with my Dr. and make a plan.
We live in Texas where the pool heats to near 90 degrees in the summer so as soon as Anna was cleared after her shunt surgery in June, we were ready to get her in the water! We wanted to give her a new sensory experience as well as give her the chance to exercise her muscles without fighting gravity. We guessed she might enjoy it because she LOVES her baths, but we didn't want to overwhelm her. We started out slowly, just taking her in for a few minutes at a time. She tolerated her first swim very well! I say tolerated because she wasn't smiling, but she certainly did a lot of kicking! She had a very focused expression. Kicking is hard work!
Anna's First Swim
One of the many (sometimes strange) things Anna's grandma has purchased for her is a swim collar. The first time I saw it, I said NO WAY would that thing be around Anna's neck! But after researching aquatherapy for cerebral palsy and seeing the collar in use, I relented. Despite the fact that we had it on backwards the first couple of times, Anna seemed to enjoy it. I like that she can move both her arms and her legs and because she is fully immersed she can swim longer before getting chilly. We have to watch her though, because she learned she can push off our stomachs and swim away! She likes swimming with her collar more each week.
Since Patricia's death some words have become more emotionally charged for me than others. Lucky is one of these words. I used to feel pretty lucky. No, I never won the lottery and hadn't lived a life completely void of hardship, but I recognized how enviable my life was. A good family, a husband who I enjoy spending time with, opportunities to receive an education and travel the world, a job that pays the bills and offers good benefits. These are good things.
Still, when someone, even my husband, refers to me or our family as lucky, it cuts me like a knife. I am not sure what it is about the word that causes me pain because all those things listed above, I still have those things, as well as a beautiful baby girl at home. But I no longer automatically think of myself as lucky. When I hear the word, I immediately think "Lucky would be if Patricia didn't die. Lucky would be if Anna wasn't born 14 weeks early or have brain bleeds. How can I or anyone think I'm lucky when these things did happen?"
I know the issue is grief-related because I am still grieving for Patricia and in some ways for Anna, though with her it is mostly fear for the future. I think I afraid of somehow forgetting Patricia's life and its effect on me as well as ignoring the challenges we face with Anna. It is also hard when I watch Anna struggle to do something as simple as touch her favorite toy with her left hand only to get frustrated and begin crying. I feel sad and guilty, not lucky.
Despite what we have been through, I do feel joy. I could list out individual things that make me feel happy or thankful. I guess it's just the blanket idea of being lucky that I have difficulty with. Right now it is better if I tackle one thing at a time and take each day moment by moment. I believe the emotion surrounding the word will fade with time as will the immediate thoughts of all the reasons I feel distinctively unlucky, but only time will tell.
I strongly believe in the power of music as a therapeutic outlet for grief or any other strong emotion. When I am in the middle of a crisis, listening to particular songs I identify with helps me handle the emotions. For months after Patricia died, I listened to songs on the way to work that brought my grief to the surface. I would arrive a few minutes early and cry in my car in the parking lot. This time was so important for me. It made me feel connected to my daughter and to myself and allowed me to continue on.
Months or years later, listening to songs I identified with during a particular period of time allows me to re-connect with myself and my story. This is so necessary for me as some days I cannot believe my own story. I struggle to believe that this is my life. The following songs are, for me, reminders of my Patricia. I included the links, I apologize for the YouTube ads!
First up is Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years." This song is light and beautiful. It can be perceived as sad, but also joyful. This is what I felt for Patricia just after her death. I was angry and in deep pain, of course, but I did not direct those feelings towards Patricia. She is my precious firstborn daughter, my forever baby. This song will always make my heart swell with love for her.
All along I believed
I would find you
Time has brought
Your heart to me
I have loved you for a
Thousand years
I'll love you for a
Thousand more
Another song I listened to often on those morning car rides comes from the Glee soundtrack and is titled "Keep Holding On." I have been a Glee fan ever since its debut and Patricia was also. Whenever we watched the show or listened to the soundtrack in the car, Patricia would wiggle and kick as if she was dancing to the beat. This particular song is a tribute to my relationship with my husband. I had never felt so close to him as I did just after Patricia's death. He is the only person who has experienced what I have, the death of a part of myself.
Keep holding on
'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through
Just stay strong
'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you
Another Glee song I played over and over was "I Dreamed a Dream." This song brought out the pain and anguish I felt after my world came crashing down. The emotions I felt and still feel upon hearing this song are deep and raw.
And still I dream she'll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed
Another song I often cry to is "Come Wake Me Up" by Rascal Flatts. My grief comes from my love for Patricia and in a way, crying allows me to spend time with her the only way I can. Remembering her, loving her, missing her. I accept that she is gone and no longer feel as angry, but the pain doesn't diminish.
Tonight your memory burns like a fire
With every one it grows higher and higher
And I can't get over it, I just can't put out this love
I just sit in these flames and pray that you'll come back
Close my eyes tightly, hold on and hope that I'm dreaming
Come wake me up
The last song I'll post is a more recent one, "Gone, Gone, Gone" by Phillip Phillips. I discovered this over the summer and since Anna has allowed me to feel more joy and fewer grey days, I can think about Patricia in a different way. Patricia will always be a part of our family and we tell Anna often about her big sister, but I want Anna to understand that death is a part of life and it is okay to feel good even though we have lost someone very important.
Sometimes I get really low. My husband and I have termed this "feeling grey," as if a storm cloud is directly above me, following my every move. At this moment in time, I'm not there, likely because I had some wonderful snuggle time with Anna this morning. However, that could change in a second. I try not to play what I hear others call the "pain olympics" because I know everyone has a battle to fight, but I feel that I can state objectively that the past 16 months have been incredibly difficult for our family. Our lives have changed, our marriage has changed, I have changed. Some of the change in me will likely be for the better, though I'm not ready to consider that yet. Unfortunately, my journey as Patricia and Anna's mother has also brought deep-rooted feelings of anger and envy.
I know these feelings are normal after the loss of a child and after any traumatic and unexpected end to a pregnancy, including premature birth. I suppose I am writing this to let other women know that these feelings are normal, because they can also be very isolating and damaging to relationships. I am ashamed to admit that on more than one occasion in the past few weeks even, I have said aloud to my husband that I hate my life. This is not true, but when the tidal wave of grief hits, it often destroys everything in its path. I am only able to think about what I have lost. For Patricia, an entire life. For Anna, the dream of a typical childhood.
I feel safer when I am in my little family bubble (see this post). I miss Patricia every day and fear the unknown future with Anna, but the dark feelings are more likely to stay away when I can live in the moment. Alas, we must live in the world and this can be rough. For example, I have a very difficult time seeing pregnant women or hearing about their pregnancies. Social media has made this tough but I will say that if you are pregnant or have young children and you are not a fellow loss mom, you are hidden from my Facebook feed. When I see pregnant women out and about, it is often hard to control my emotions. Sometimes I feel anger, and I want to scream at the woman how lucky she is. Sometimes I feel envious, and I wallow in my own self-pity and think about how it should have been for me. Sometimes I just feel sad that I have lost my innocence about pregnancy.
I was surprised that it is not just pregnant women who are triggers for me. I also have trouble celebrating the joy of others. This one is also somewhat shameful to admit, but it is the truth. For example, recently we attended the wedding of a close friend of mine, a fellow sorority sister. She has found a fantastic husband and father for her young son, and I am truly happy for them. I am also crazy envious. Listening to them take their vows brought back memories of the start of our marriage, when we were so naive and full of hope. I miss those feelings. It didn't help that we left Anna at home and there were other babies there, one of whom was born only days after Patricia's due date. A painful reminder of what we should have. Looking at the adorable little girls dancing around the floor and wondering whether our Anna will ever walk was too much. Thankfully, my husband felt the change in me and we said our goodbyes early.
Time is not a magic fix for these feelings, but I do hope the intensity will fade in the years to come. I will not retreat from the world, but I will continue to seek out others who can provide support and understanding and hope that I can be of some help to others who find themselves on similar journeys.
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