The Journey Within and Without

One Big Giant Boo Hoo

2010-06-16T20:29:00.003-04:00

I'm a person who charges through things, head on, to get to the other side. I don't wallow. But this is my blog and so today, I'm going to wallow...

My baby just turned 3 and I nursed her until she was almost 16 months. That means my body has had less than 2 years to re-adjust from years of infertility treatments, pregnancy or nursing back to it's normal hormonal state. It took a little while after Laura was weaned (because of the auto-immune issue I developed) but when she was just shy of 2 years, my period regulated itself again and was just as it had been prior to my family building journey. I have just had the rude awakening that the "ride" is over. My body is springing forward into peri-menopause.

Huh? At 41? Yup. And I don't like it.

My lovely sister (who is 2 1/2 years my senior) thinks I should be thrilled.Her theory? No more birth control (um, we have male factor infertility-we don't NEED birth control). No more menstrual cycles to worry about; which, in theory, sounds great. Except she hasn't experienced 2 a.m. night sweats, a full month of spotting-or perhaps the worst: the unexpected and unannounced menstrual "surprise" that caught me in white shorts, completely off my guard. What she's not thinking about is, well, uncontrollable night sweats, mood swings, weight gain and crankiness.

So okay, the mood swings and crankiness haven't happened yet and the weight gain is probable due to overeating and under moving but remember, this is my blog and my wallow...

Seriously, though? 41? Peri-Menopause? It seems unfair.

And then I think-maybe it's NOT menopause and maybe it's something else. Something I should see my GYN about. Some rare and weird side effect from years of infertility treatments (I am NOT a hypochondriac-really, I'm not). But I just don't want to see my GYN right now. It's summer, the kids are home, we are having fun. The GYN is not fun. Not to mention my favorite (female) GYN is no longer working and I don't really want to see a nurse practitioner, midwife or one of the male doctors. I want to see someone I trust completely and feel comfortable with because let's face it, menopause at 41 isn't something I want to share with just anyone (except the entire world wide web, via this blog).

I want some hand-holding. I want to be told I'm not going to get cranky or lose my sex drive or gain a ton of weight, just because I'm going through menopause.

What I really want is another 5-8 years of baby-making abilities, even though know I won't be having any more babies. 41 is early. I don't want to be early. I want to be in the norm.

So that's my big boo-hoo.

Time...

2010-05-07T10:51:00.002-04:00

My kids are growing up. The safety bumpers have long since been removed from our coffee table and the safety locks on the cabinets are gone. Legos and other small toys decorate our floors on a daily basis and it's suffice to say that our house is no longer baby-proof. As difficult as it is to admit, Laura is a full fledged child. At nearly 3, she hasn't napped in months, prefers riding her bike to watching Baby Einsteins and has enough attitude to rival any tween.

This stage is so much fun. Both kids are playing (non-competitive) wiffle ball. Rod and I take them to the driving range and tennis courts, they love the beach and enjoy boogie boarding and this year, they helped wash and wax the boat (they spent most of the time taking turns playing "Captain" and "First Mate" but they were out there with us). They are creative and able to do "things" yet they are still totally innocent. It's such a great time of life.

Every once in a while, my arms ache to hold a baby in my arms, to feel the suckle of their thirst, to inhale the newborn smell through my nostrils. I used to think this longing stemmed from losing Hannah, Ryan and Abby and I'm sure part of it is. But I think part of it is also because I realize that life is accelerating at a rate that's unfathomable. Sometimes when I'm shopping, I walk right past the Size 5 pants because when I glance at them, I assume they are way to big to fit my son and yet that is the size he wears.

As a teen, I would to get annoyed when my folks would tell me that they can't believe how fast life happens. I couldn't wait to drive, or graduate high school or turn 21. And while I would never go back to these days, it's a bit shocking to realize that at 41, I'm now closer to being 60 than I was to being 20. And it's almost impossible to believe that 5 years ago tomorrow was the day that my son safely entered my world. While I was pregnant, it went so slowly. Now that they are here, it's going too fast...

Redshirting...

2010-02-08T16:28:00.013-05:00

"Redshirting" was once used to describe college athletes who are kept from play for a year, so that they can still put in 4 years, but at an older, more refined and developed age. Now the term is often being used to describe kids who enter kindergarten a year late with the hopes that being the oldest will give them the academic and athletic advantage.

It's a hot topic.

And it's one I'm currently considering.Joey is a May baby and our kindergarten cut-off date is October first. He would probably be one of, if not the oldest, child in his class growing up. The thought of that scares me and yet I am still thinking of holding him from kindergarten next year.

But it's not to give him an academic or athletic advantage as he grows. See, for me, I am 100% sure that holding my son now is the right thing to do for him, now. The T-K program we are looking at will have between 10 and 12 children, all who will be 5 years old when they start and 6 years old when they finish. The program focuses on many of the skills that he would be learning in Kindergarten, but extra emphasis is given to social and emotional confidence and growth. Academically and athletically (if there is such a thing for a 4 1/2 year old) he's ready. It's the "social" and "emotional" where he needs a little more time. He's come a long way but he's just not there yet. This T-K program is the perfect stepping stone for my son and I know it would do wonders for him.

His pediatrician believes that he's a child that could go either way. His exact words were, "Knowing Joey as I do, if he were born in July, I would tell you to hold him. But May is on the far end" But that only makes me wonder more if T-K is the place for him. His preschool teachers have said, "He would benefit from an extra year but he would probably be okay if you sent him" Do I want to gamble with "probably" when I know he would benefit from one more year?

Sounds like a no-brainer, right? Except it's not. It's not the now that I worry about, it's the later. What happens when he is turning 8 in first grade, 12 in 5th grade? 17 (the age in which NJ children are eligible to test for their driver's license) at the end of his sophomore year? Will he feel differently because he is older? Will he feel like an outcast? Will he be bored academically?

So, do I hold him because I believe it's best for my son "now" but then worry about the "later" potential long term consequences? Or do I send him now so he's not the oldest child in the class and worry about the consequences of this decision on his current social confidence?

In life, there is no crystal ball. And so, I'll continue to weigh the pros and cons of both options, then make my decision. Hopefully, in 20 years from now, I will look back on this angst with a smile, knowing I made the right decision.

Hot Chocolate and Some Love

2010-01-26T07:54:00.004-05:00

This past weekend, I was part of a wonderful thing-something that made me cry and made me proud to live in my community. Recently, a friend's son was diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma (see post "I just don't understand"). Our community has rallied to support this family in ways that are simply amazing~meals are scheduled for the next few months, carpooling for the other kids has been coordinated, notes and cards of encouragement and support are dropped off daily and many events are being planned in an effort to raise money to help with medical costs associated with his care and treatment.

The first fundraising event, "HOT CHOCOLATE FOR CHARLIE" occurred this past Saturday. It was an outdoor fundraiser where people could come, have coffee and hot chocolate, socialize and enjoy the crisp winter day. We had a clown there who made balloon figures for kids and a brownie troop sold brown ribbons with a purple heart to raise money. We sold homemade goodies that included cookies, cupcakes and rice krispie treats. People milled around and socialized while kids ran around playing.

"Team Charlie" hoped for a good turnout but nobody expected what we got: hundreds of families coming out, many who don't know the family but want to support them. At the end of the day, we had leftover goodies that were pack up to be sent to CHOP (The Childrens Hospital of PA) for kids who are staying there. The Brownie Troupe counted their money and handed over $500.00, just from selling their pins. The unofficial accountants for the "Team Charlie" bake sale took the cash raised over to the bank and tallied it up. It's amazing what a simple idea, a little hard work and a lot of love can accomplish. HOT CHOCOLATE FOR CHARLIE, a small community fundraiser, earned over $5,000.00 to help this family. It was inspiring.

Lumps

2010-01-08T13:57:00.002-05:00

About 3 1/2 weeks ago, during a self breast exam, I felt some things that just weren't right.I made an appointment with my GYN and today she confirmed that they are indeed, lumps. Monday I'm going for a diagnostic mammogram.

I know there are a million things that this could be (or not be). I'm not in panic mode about what it may (or may not) be, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I am.

Please send some good vibes my way. Thanks.
==
UPDATE: And after a very stressful mammogram and ultrasound, I do not have cancer. I also don't have time to write everything I want to write about this experience but I did want to update. My heart goes out to any man or woman who experiences this but received a cancer diagnosis. Wishing you all peace.

I Just Don't Understand...

2010-01-04T15:43:00.006-05:00

Less than 3 weeks ago, I went Cross-Country Skiing with a friend. We spent a lot of time talking about her son, Charlie, who has been having some strange health problems. Charlie is her "baby" and turned 3 on December 26. But instead of celebrating his birthday that day, he was admitted to Childrens Hospital Of PA (CHOP) and his parents were given his diagnosis: Cancer. Neuroblastoma. Stage 4.

When I think about Charlie and his prognosis, I feel physically ill. And I want to wrap my arms around both of them and hug them and make them feel safe and make all the cancer go away. I hope with all my heart that Charlie beats the odds and his treatments cure him. Statistically, due to his age and the status of his cancer, the odds are against him. However, there are kids who make up the small statistic of those who survive and remain cancer free. There's no reason why Charlie can't be one of those kids. But my mind can't help but going to that dark place some times.

A long time ago, I gave up my belief in an all powerful all mighty God who controls all of the awful things that happen in this world. But I haven't given up on the Almighty God and the power of prayer for strength. For anyone who reads this, I ask you to keep Charlie and his Mom, Julie, in your prayers. Ask that Charlie has the physical stamina to thrive through the harsh treatments he'll undergo, and ask that Julie will continue to have the unbelievable strength that she has as she watches her son struggle with this awful disease while at the same time, finding the balance between caring for Charlie and caring for her 2 girls at home.

Untitled

2009-12-18T21:15:00.002-05:00

Today, I got blindsided by grief and sadness. I can't really say why. Nothing extraordinary happened. I didn't hear any good or bad news regarding pregnancies or babies. Joey and Laura are doing well and life is, generally, really good.

Except that for whatever reason, my heart aches tonight and I am sad. Tears flooded my eyes as I realized that this heavy feeling is from missing Hannah, Ryan and Abby and what could have been...

I am not a person who can close her eyes and imagine life with three 6 year old triplets running around. I don't know if I can't do it because I won't do it or if I won't do it because I can't do it, but either way, I don't imagine life with Hannah, Ryan and Abby. What I do wonder is who they would have been and what they would look like.

If I could take a short journey back in time, there is no doubt that I would travel back to the week they were born. It would be unbelievably painful to relive that week, but I can no longer remember what it felt like to hold them. Right now, I long to hold them, smell them and feel that overwhelming sense of love that comes right after your child is placed in your arms. And even though it would be unbelievably painful to relive that week, it would be worth the pain to remember.

Hannah, Ryan and Abby~I love you and I miss you so very much.

TC

2009-11-22T22:01:00.004-05:00

Tonight, for some strange reason, I sat at my computer and googled, "The Triplet Connection" and when it loaded, I learned that I'm still signed in as a member.

I didn't really do anything on the site. I entered the general forum and browsed some topic titles but didn't open any of them. Then I went to the bereaved parents section and did the same thing. And then I logged out. I spent about 2 minutes there, at the most.

I'm not negating that I gave birth to triplets whom I continue to love and cherish, but I'm certainly not part of the moms of multiples community and I found that I wasn't really interested in reading any of the posts. There was a time, while I was pregnant and even after Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born, when I spent a lot of time pouring over posts, first feeling very connected to the world of multiples, then desperately trying to hold on to my right to belong in that world. I spent a lot of time working through this with my grief shrink and she helped me realize how toxic the site had become for me. I knew I needed to stop going there, but it took a long time before I was able to do so.

I'm not sure why I went there tonight or what I hoped it would accomplish. Now I'm not sure why I'm even writing about it because honestly, what I felt during that 2 minutes was completely indifferent and detached.

Even now, thinking about it, it seems very bizarre.

10/29/09 The Present

2009-10-29T18:41:00.007-04:00

This morning, I woke up and knew my week was over. I didn't jump out of bed with pure joy and energy, but that's because I never do that. However, I did feel different. The best way I can explain it is that even though I was up late watching baseball, I awoke today feeling less tired than I have the past few days.

Although I did have my moments, all in all, it was probably my easiest anniversary week so far. It was the first year that I didn't go through their memory boxes, look at their pictures and spend private time with each of them. During the day, I didn't have the time. I could have done it at night, after the kids were in bed but for whatever reasons, I didn't. And I'm okay with that.

Yesterday was Abby's birthday. I didn't sit and write anything in her memory because, again, I didn't have time. Although a larger than normal part of my heart was with my eternal babies this week, my focus was on my children who are here with me. I know Hannah, Ryan and Abby understand that they are quietly with me always, even when Joey and Laura are loudly demanding my attention.

Yes, this year was easier, by far. Perhaps in a few weeks or months I will want to sit and spend some time going through their tangible things and maybe then I will really cry, but right now, I'm warm inside knowing that they are with me, always and that my life is full. I am living in the present and it's a good place to be.

Ryan

2009-10-27T16:58:00.002-04:00

My first thought today was of the son I will never know~the son who, of all my children, had the most peaceful entrance into the world. My son Ryan. He was so small and looked so gentle; perfect. And yet, I didn't have time for tears this morning because Joey woke early so I had to get up and start the day. Today was a crazy, hectic day. I took Joey to karate then piled 2 more kids into my car and brought all of them home to my house for the day. I'm helping a friend who needs help and the only way I can actually do anything is to take her kids for her, so I spent the entire day with (3) 4 year olds and a 2 year old. Needless to say, my brain was busy today and now I'm tired.

Somewhere inside me, there is a longing to sit with a little boy who never will grow up. I want to look at his picture and go through his things and try to remember the smell of him, through his blanket-even though it has long since faded. But today is not the day that it will happen. I can hear the music of Tigger and Pooh so I know I have less than 2 minutes until Joey and Laura start wandering, looking for me. And, at 5:15, I need to start dinner and the night time routine. No, this is not the day to go through Ryan's box, or write him a note, or spend a lot of quiet time "with" him. But even though it was a happy and busy day, when I did have a quick moment, my thoughts went to my son on his 6th birthday.

I love you Ryan and I miss you, my sweet boy.

The Gift

2009-10-25T07:21:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, I received the most unexpected gift.

Since Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births and deaths, my in-laws have never handled things well. For years, I have suspected that my mother in law would have done things differently but that my father in law was always "in control" of what they do or say. Rod called them as soon as we knew we would lose Hannah and they didn't come because they had a dinner party that evening. I learned this months later when I asked them why they didn't come to see Hannah. My father in law responded, "We didn't want to offend our friends". I was devastated that they would choose a dinner party with friends over supporting their son during the most devastating time of his life.

Throughout the years, they have never mentioned Hannah, Ryan or Abby, unless it's to allude to the "miscarriage" or "loss". None of their friends were told about the memorial service and several family members were told "it will be a small service for immediate family only" so they didn't need to attend. I am grateful for those family members who felt strongly enough to attend and support Rod anyway, as it was totally appropriate for them to be there. The service was anything but a small~my entire family (including aunts and uncles from far away) attended, friends of my parents, our friends and many of their parents attended. The support was overwhelming, but I know that it was hurtful for Rod that there wasn't a stronger presence from his family.

In the past few years, my mother in law has made an effort. Although she never remembers the dates, she has recently started sending a note in October letting me know that she is thinking of us and of Hannah, Ryan and Abby. She has told me more than once that she regrets not coming when Hannah was born. She regrets not seeing her, not holding her and not supporting Rod and me. She is a woman controlled by her husband and in the past few years, I have learned to forgive her for the things she didn't do; things she couldn't do.

Last night was the memorial service for Rod's grandmother. My mother in law started the evening off with a few words about her Mom. But before she started, she thanked everyone for coming and then she said the most uncharacteristic thing: "I would like to pause for a moment to remember Rod and April's first three children, Hannah, Ryan and Abby, who died 6 years ago around this time"

Both Rod and I started crying and this unexpected acknowledgment of our babies. The remainder of the service was, appropriately, about his grandmother. However, for me the recognition and remembrance of my sweet angels was the nicest gift my mother in law has ever given me.

Hannah Rose born 10/24 and died 10/25

2009-10-24T07:15:00.003-04:00

This is the first year I haven't been home for Hannah's birthday. Instead, we are on Cape Cod for Rod's grandmother's memorial service. My brother and law and his finance are here and so are my in-laws. The distraction has been nice, as we arrived on Thursday and I sailed through Thrusday and Friday without emotion.

However, last night, no sooner was I in bed then the tears started rolling down my cheeks. They were most unexpected, as I didnt' think I was thinking about Hannah, but I was. I gently and silently cried myself to sleep but I never fell into a deep slumber. My dreams were twisted~babies were born who looked like Hannah but were left nameless for years, a child born to me whom I did not know I had delivered and who was somehow found in a school locker. Dreams can be odd like that, making no sense but having touches of real like anxiety, stress or sadness peppered into their weirdness.

And now today, with the exception of Rod, nobody around me remembers what today means for me. Nobody remembers that today, my first born daughter made an extremely difficult entrance into this world and then a few hours later, she quietly passed into an afterworld. I am expected to smile, make small talk and be my normal self and all I really want to do is crawl into a ball, close my eyes and cry for my sweet little baby who never had the chance to grow into a toddler, a little girl, a teen or a woman.

While today will be a blur of activity and when I log off this computer, I will push my tears aside and dig deep to put on a happy face, my heart will be heavy and tears will puddle just under the surface for the pain and sadness I feel today.

Hannah~sweet Hannah. I love you and I miss you so much.

Why I'm going to hate homework

2009-10-21T14:25:00.005-04:00

Joey is in preschool and his class is learning about dinosaurs. Together, they made a paper-mache egg and later a stuffed animal dinosaur "hatched" from it. Each student gets to take "Platey" (the stegosaurus) home with him/her after their "snack day" and they are supposed to take care of it. Monday was our day to bring Platey home.

Mind you-I had no idea any of this was going on. When I ask Joey what he did in school, his answer is usually the same: "I played". I never hear about what's actually going on in class unless I happen to eavesdrop on the little girls chatting with their moms after school. In the last 2 months, I have concluded that girls tell all and boys tell nothing.

Anyway, between Monday afternoon and this morning (Wed) we somehow lost Platey. Joey could have cared less that the dinosaur was missing so he hemmed and hawed and lifted one pillow on the couch, poorly acting like he was looking for it. I was already slightly panicked that we wouldn't find the creature in time, but his lackadaisical attitude only added to my frustration. I have learned that if Joey thinks something is interesting, he'll give it 110%. If he doesn't like it, he will barely squeak out a 1% effort. He thinks the whole Platey idea is lame. When I asked him why he never mentioned it to me before his snack day, his response was: "It's kind of stupid, Mom. I mean, we built the egg, the teacher put Platey in it and now she wants us to believe it hatched and we have to take care of it?!"

When put this way, I do see his point.

The 2 days the thing was home with him, Laura showed more interest in it then Joey did. I never saw him play with it once. So where did it go???

In the end, we headed out to school without Platey. Joey had to tell the teacher that he couldn't find Platey while I stood there feeling like an inferior mom because we lost it. I then rushed home to search the house again so the next child in line wouldn't be disappointing that they weren't able to take Platey home with them.

Laura and I entered the house and I sighed and said, "Oh Laura. Where is Platey?" to which she replied, "I know Mommy" and she walked over to her training potty, lifted the lid and low and behold, there he was.

All I can say is: how fitting.

Pumpkin Season...

2009-10-09T21:08:00.004-04:00

Remembering a child or children who died is such a person experience and there really is no right or wrong thing to do, as long as it works for the person and their family. My celebrations and remembrances tend to be private in nature. I have a special painting of three tiny birds hanging in my family room, a Swavorski crystal bouquet of 3 "forget-me-not" flower blooms, those types of things. I don't hang stockings or make birthday cakes or do balloon releases.

But I do think of Fall as "their time" and every year since they were born and died, Rod and I have ventured to the pumpkin patch and picked out one pumpkin for each member of our family. We get 2 larger ones for Rod and me, Joey and Laura pick theirs out and then we get three smaller ones for Hannah, Ryan and Abby.

This October has been very crazy for our family. Rod and I took a much needed "grown up only" vacation together and spent a blissful week on our boat exploring the creeks and rivers of the Chesapeake. We returned home and are now heading out to the Outer Banks, NC for a family vacation and when we get back from that, we turn around and head north to Cape Cod for a "Celebration of Life" service for Rod's Grandmother who passed away recently. We will be gone every weekend but Halloween this year.

Although my brain has known about our schedule for months now, it has only recently registered that it means that as a family, we wouldn't get to pick out our pumpkins this year.

And while it may seem like a silly thing to cry over, I know that the tears I shed today carried so much more meaning than just a missed trip to the pumpkin patch.

Good Enough

2009-09-24T15:13:00.008-04:00

Let me start by stressing that I'm not extremely overweight. I'm just slightly, shall I say, "softened". If I were 10 pounds heavier, I'd be miserable. If I were 10 pounds lighter, I would feel more confident. My confidence wouldn't come from being thin-it would come from ACHIEVING the goal. It would come from the knowledge that I set my mind to it and I did it.

But for some reason, I can't do it.

Before starting my infertility journey-I was very active and I worked out on a regular basis. I was thin, fit, athletic and confident. For the first 6 months of infertility treatments, I did everything I could, when I could, to maintain an active lifestyle and eat healthy meals (most of the time). As time went on and the stress, grief, hormone treatments, and pregnancies happened, my active lifestyle and healthy living were pushed by the wayside and replaced with bedrest, sleep deprivation, ice cream and snack foods. I no longer deal with bedrest or sleep deprivation, but I somehow haven't gotten out of the ice cream and snack food mode.

For years now, I've been saying that "after such and such happens, I'll lose the rest of the weight and get back into shape" Such and Such could be anything: my foot feels better, my kids get older, my dog is calms down...but each time the "such and such" of the day happens, a new "such and such" replaces it.

I know what to do to change things: I certainly don't need to eat Laura's left over mozzarella sticks (Yes, this happened today-she ate 1 and I ate 7) and I don't need to have a sweet at night or the extra serving of rice with dinner. With a little self discipline, things would change drastically. I've tried it before and I drop weight and do really well until I hit about one-hundred-and-good-enough lbs on the scale.And then, for some unknown reason, I stop trying and start gaining again. It's rather frustrating.

And I can't believe that I, April, just dedicated an entire blog entry to this topic. And yet I did. Because the reality is, while I'm only slightly unhappy with my current weight and fitness level, I'm really unhappy with my inability to change it.

Mood Swing

2009-09-10T21:32:00.006-04:00

I was cranky today. There really wasn't any reason for it other than I was irresponsible last night and didn't go to bed early enough so I was short on sleep. I was a bit snappy with the kids, especially when I was trying to have a brief but light conversation with a girlfriend via telephone, while I had 2 large entities called Joey and Laura attached to my person.

After I hung up, I sat Joey down and told him, basically, that it's not nice or appropriate to become an overly large chunk of Velcro while I'm on the phone (of course, these weren't my exact words). He surprised me by responding, "were you talking to a friend, Mom?"

His question was surprising because Joey's a friendly child but tends to be somewhat aloof (ironically, this makes most other kids really want to be his friend). He loves being with kids he knows well, but he's usually just as content playing with me, Laura or by himself. He almost never talks about or mentions friends unless prompted, and even then, he rattles off only one or two names-usually of kids we have just seen.

So, out of curiosity I decided to drop the Velcro conversation (I think I had made my point, anyway) and see where this new conversation led us.

I told him that yes, I was talking to his Aunt Erin, who he knows is a special friend. To which he said, "You know Mom, I have a best friend" and before I could say anything, he spread his arms wide, hugged me and said "Mom, YOU are my best friend"

As you can imagine, my mood changed drastically and my heart melted.

3 Little Birds

2009-09-09T07:35:00.006-04:00

I know Hannah, Ryan and Abby are shining down on us. I can feel them sometimes, all around me. While I was pregnant with them, I often sang this song to them. It's a cute, peppy song by Bab Marley and at the time, I honestly believed it. I was wrong.

It's taken me many years to be able to say that while it's never going to be "all right" for me, now, every little thing is "alright" and, most times, even better...

"Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"

Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', ("This is my message to you:")

Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"

Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you:"

Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!
"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."

The Map. I'm All Over It.

2009-09-02T21:03:00.003-04:00

The last few weeks have been interesting for me (for lack of a better word). So many feelings have surfaced for so many different reasons and I am having difficulty processing everything.

Several weeks ago, a woman I used to work with lost her son. He was a young adult and died suddenly from an aenurism. Although she and I didn't know each other well, she did know about Hannah, Ryan and Abby and she has since reached out to me-looking for hope, for support, for anything that will ease her pain. We have emailed back and forth a few times.

Shortly thereafter, a woman I do not know at all called me. Her BBG triplets were born in April at 23+ weeks and all three of them died shortly after their births. She is devastated and after months of struggling on her own, she finally pulled out the support list of phone numbers given to her by our local hospital and called me. We have been emailing on and off for a few weeks now.

Then, just last week, a childhood friend contacted me because her cousin (a girl I saw periodically growing up but didn't know well) lost a child at 24 weeks. She wanted to know if I would reach out to her because she is struggling so. And I did. And I'm glad I did because I know she felt isolated, lost, hurt, sad and confused and knowing that her feelings are normal has helped her tremendously.

Emailing with these women has been difficult for me in an odd way. I would have expected that all this sorrow would throw me back into the depths of my own grief, but it hasn't.When responding to some of the emails, I have had to go back into my own (written) journals to re-read how I felt so that I can respond with appropriate words for their individual stages of grief. While reading my own words, I have been curiously detached from the woman who wrote them. That woman is a stranger to me in so many ways and reading her words has made me much more aware of how far I have come in the past (almost) 6 years.

However, just today my sister-in-law gave birth to her third child, a healthy baby boy. I took my children over to the hospital to meet him and I was completely unprepared for the emotions that invaded my mind and heart. I had expected to walk into the room and feel nothing but overwhelming love for this beautiful child and joy for my brother and sister-in-law. I did not expect to also feel jealous, sad or lonely. I did not expect for my heart to ache so deeply for my babies who died or for any future babies that I will never have. I did not expect to feel such a strong maternal pull to wrap my arms around my two children, hold them close and cherish whatever baby-ness is left in their 4 and 2 year old minds and bodies.

But I did.

Why is it that near strangers can share their grief, pain and loss with me and I can empathize, understand and support them without having their grief become my grief but I can't simply cherish the birth of my brother and sister-in-laws' son without it bringing some pain?

I will be so happy when those people closest to me have moved beyond the pregnancy and baby stage. It makes me so sad that I couldn't walk into that hospital room and feel nothing but complete joy. Is this a long term effect of grief? Is it a flaw in my own personality? I really don't know...

Choices

2009-08-17T22:03:00.005-04:00

(if you haven't a clue what this post is about, please read the post preceding it!)

What a week! All the fears and trepidation I had regarding my conference were completely unfounded. I was overwhelmed instead by how the community embraced and supported me and how readily they accepted me for who I am and where I am at. There were one or two special friends from long ago with whom I shared the reasons for my sudden departure from the field, my 8 year absence from the bi-annual conferences and my diminished skills but the other 2,000+ interpreters and Deaf people simply saw me as a woman who was taking a hiatus from work to raise my children and they supported that role.

I spent an entire week completely immersed in American Sign Language. Yes, I was rusty at first but it didn't take long for me to have full comprehension and participation of and in my surroundings. By the end of the week, I was understanding even the subtlest nuances of the language, laughing at jokes and I felt like I belonged to this wonderful community again. And I liked it. And I realized how much I have missed it.

After a week long conference, I realized that I will go back to work again some day. For now, I am not ready to go back on a regular, full time basis. I'm not even sure I'm ready to go back on a part-time regular basis. I enjoy my steady, one night a week assignment but I also recognize that to hone my skills again and to stay connected to an important part of who I am, I need to add an occasional all day job here and there. My goal now is to find a nice balance that works for me, R and the kids.

Because for now, although I love being an interpreter, I love being a stay-at-home mom more. And on so many levels, I'm grateful that I have this choice.

A Bad Case of the Jitters

2009-07-31T13:24:00.006-04:00

Languages grow, develop and change and the only way to stay current is to use the language regularly. I haven't used American Sign Language (ASL) regularly since Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born. As a matter of fact, other than the few signs I used with my children, I haven't really used it at all.

Recently, I started working again one night a week. It's an intimate assignment in an arena that I'm comfortable with and although I was rusty at first, I believe that I am doing a good job and providing a valuable service to the consumers of that job. For me, the intimacy of the assignment makes it safe.

When I worked full time, my work was very important to me. I was a skilled professional and a highly ethical interpreter. I was confident with my role in the profession and was involved and committed. My reputation was excellent on a local and state-wide level.

Then life fell apart and I took a hiatus from the world for a while. I slowly stepped back into life as I climbed out of the pits of grief, infertility and pregnancy. However, my desire to regain a place in the professional world has been half-hearted, at best. I love what I do, but I love staying home and being a Mom more. So, I have been happy with my one assignment a week because it allows me a chance to keep the doors open but it barely interferes with my family life. I know my skills are not even close to where they were 7 or 8 years ago, but I also know the reasons why.

However, in less than 24 hours I will step into a convention hall for a week long national conference for interpreters. I will see thousands of interpreters and Deaf people-many whom I know but haven't seen in years and most do not know where my life journey has taken me. All they will know is that my skills are not where they used to be but they won't know why.

To say that I am nervous is an understatement. My head is filled with questions of "what if" (what if I don't understand what's happening? What if I look stupid? What if I'm judged?) and I can't help but wonder how the week will pan out. I am hoping it will fly by and be full of opportunities for learning, growing and socializing but, again, there are those "what if's"-what if it drags by and I feel lost and insecure?

This is the last big hurdle I've yet to face in my post-Hannah, Ryan and Abby life. I've skipped the previous conferences because it wasn't time yet and I know it's time now. But I'm still petrified.

longing...

2009-06-29T21:11:00.003-04:00

Babies. I love them. My own baby is really a toddler now and soon she'll leave that and become a little girl. Although she is still a baby, she is no longer a infant-baby.

Our lives are no longer run by nap schedules or thrown of kilter by our own sleep deprivation. We are doing things now: Rod and I have date nights, I have spent time with girlfriends of my own and as a family, we're able to go places and, well, do things. This summer has just started and already it's been so much fun for us. I'm happy with my stage in life. I truly am.

However, whenever I hear of another friend who is pregnant again, I feel a longing-a pull-for another baby of my own. I know that when my sister in law has her #3 (he is due at the end of August) I will hold him in my arms and the love will be only slightly stronger than the longing. Yet, I know I will never have another baby-it's too difficult for us on so many levels and even if I really, really wanted to go through it all again, I know that R is done. His heart isn't in it anymore and he's ready to live life. When we are trying or I am pregnant, we don't live life, we survive it. We did that for too long and neither of us want to go back to that stress again.

And I'm okay with it. I really am.
Except sometimes...

So Long Ago...

2009-06-04T10:43:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, I was in picking up my new contact lenses. I am friendly with the owner and we were chatting as I was looking at the new glasses styles~they are so fun now-pretty colors and funky shapes. Not anything like the tortoise shell frames I have.

I was having fun trying all the styles on and found a great bright pink pair that I love. I asked her to look in my chart and tell me if my prescription has changed since the last time I purchased glasses. It hasn't.

"Drag" I said, "my old glasses are so boring but I can't justify purchasing new ones right now , especially since I rarely wear them"

She surprised me by saying, "you bought your last pair of glasses in Winter '04. You were in such a different place, emotionally, that you didn't even look at anything fun or funky. You just wanted to get a pair of glasses and go home. You really have come a long way"

It seems like such a long time ago-it was such a different life. I was such a different person.

2009-04-24T19:49:00.003-04:00

My only grandparent who is still alive is my Dad's mom. Of my four grandparents, she is the one I was least close to growing up and throughout my adulthood. It's no family secret that she favors my sister over my brother and me. And so, even though she lives 10 minutes from me, I don't often think to invite her over or spend time with her. Both my brother and I tried for years, but we became tired of being compared to our sister and eventually our invitations waned until they finally dwindled down to once or twice a year.

Less then two weeks ago, my Aunt died after a long battle with breast cancer. I loved my Aunt, my Dad's only sister. She never had biological children but she was a fantastic step-mom to my Uncles two boys and she was a great Aunt to me, Ed and Amber. I will miss her.

My Dad called me this week and asked me to reach out to my Grandma: "No one in our family can know what she is going through, except you. It might be helpful to her to have someone to talk to". His words brought tears to my eyes for my Grandmother and for me.

But, I had already called my Grandma and invited her to dinner because even though we aren't close, I now feel a connection to her. I was so touched to learn that my Dad recognizes this connection, but I know that my Grandmother doesn't. While she was sad for me when Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, she is from a different generation where people did not talk about babies dying. They did not hold funeral services or take photos of a baby after s/he had died. I don't fault her for that and I realize that our situations are different. I can not imagine what it feels like to come home to the house you raised your children in, knowing that one of them will never step foot in that house again. I do not know what it feels like to look at a lifetime of photos and think about a lifetime of memories that must bring both comfort and horrific sadness. I have promised myself that because I probably do understand best what she is going through, I will make the effort to reach out to her as often as I can and to listen to whatever she wants to say and that I would do so without ever saying "I know how you feel". I recognize that even if I do, she wouldn't understand how I could and it wouldn't be helpful for her to hear a comment like that. I can't force her to feel a connection of loss that she just doesn't see.

So, Rod and I let her talk and we listened as she talked about her feelings during the funeral service, how she could imagine my Aunt dancing while the organist played "Amazing Grace" (he started with a slow, beautiful beat which changed pace and ended in a breathtaking jazz rendition) and how thoughtful my Aunt and Uncles' friends are. Her mind was wandering as she talked, and eventually, she began sharing about her feelings of helplessness towards the end; how she felt, holding her daughter's hand, knowing she was going to die. Rod and I silently nodded and continued to listen. I felt tears in my eyes and when I looked over at Rod I could see his pain~the pain he felt, perhaps for my Grandma, but certainly for himself. Since I was unable to be there, it was Rod who sat, holding Hannah and then Ryan, knowing they would die and knowing he couldn't' do anything about it.

I knew this would be difficult but I didn't expect that listening to her would take me right back to the labor and delivery room that we lived in for so many days-the feelings of grief washing over me so strongly. I tried so hard to listen to her but my thoughts kept going back to my own grief, my own feelings of inadequacy, my own desperation to make sense of something that makes no sense.

I guess I thought I could understand her grief over losing her daughter without feeling my own grief over losing Hannah, Ryan and Abby. I now know I can't.

2009-02-27T21:13:00.006-05:00

After Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born and died, I discovered the world of "on-line" and *met* so many women whom I've connected with. I've shared some of the most personal thoughts and feelings I've ever had with these women and together, we navigated through the tangles of our grief.

In the beginning of my grief and recovery journey, these women were my life-line. As I already mentioned, I shared thoughts and feelings with them that were so intimate, so painful and so raw that only another woman who was experiencing them would understand. Our grief was so new and in a way, we clung to each other with the hope that we could help each other find our way in a world which seemed like it had no way. And although it brought great sadness to know that they also felt such heart-wrenching grief, there was a comfort in knowing that my feelings were "normal" and that I wasn't alone. I came to know these women in ways that I have never known anyone before, or since.

Through the years, most of these relationships have since faded. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the women who were so important to me at such a difficult time in my life. Are they happy? (I like to believe that they are). Have they come to a place of quiet peace with their loss? (I hope that the have). I also wonder if they ever think of me, of Hannah, Ryan and Abby, the way that I think of them and their babies. Because there are still times that I do think them. I cannot look back on the last 5 years without thinking about them~people whom I've never met, but who have touched my life deeply.

I am sad for all these babies and children who never had a chance to experience all the joys, heartaches and wonders of life. But I am also eternally grateful for them. Their brief existence in our world helped bring their mothers and me together. And so tonight I honor all the babies whose lives have touched mine, through the strength and love so freely given to me by their mothers. And I thank these special women for allowing me to grieve openly and shamelessly when I needed too. Your support has helped me to heal.

~~
To: Julia, Scott and Jeremiah; Trevor and Shane; Molly and Joseph; Edward, Olivia and Liliana; West, Rebeca and Keating; Mallory; Liam; and Georgia. Thank you. Although we have never met, in my own special way, I love you.

Second Chances

2009-02-09T08:25:00.004-05:00

Mom went for a second opinion with a Pulmonologist who does nothing but specialize in Interstitial Lung Diseases and Pulmonary Fibrosis. Dad went with her and they promised to call as soon as they were ready, but I also knew that it may take a few hours for the assessment and then they may need to process the information they heard, so I tried to stay busy and not think about it.

I knew that if this doctor diagnosed Pulmonary Fibrosis too, then it would be confirmed that this is what she has. I was scared to answer the phone but also couldn't get to it fast enough when it did ring. My heart was in my throat when I heard my Mom's voice because it sounded like she had been crying. And she had.

However, her tears weren't from sadness, they were from hope. This doctor is confident that she does NOT have PF. Her most recent CT Scan showed some improvement with her lungs and even though it wasn't drastic, improvement does NOT happen with PF. He switched up her medications, is sending her to Pulmonary Rehabilitation and wants to see her back in 6 weeks with a new CT Scan. He doesn't know what she does have and wants to give her more time to recover from the Pneumonia before probing further to find out what the underlying issue(s) is/are. She is still very sick and we still don't know what is wrong with her, which is scary. But knowing it's not PF is a huge relief.

As a family, we still have a long battle ahead of us, but I know that we will all buckle down and do whatever we can to help my Mom get through this. Her new doctor thinks there's a chance she may be able to reduce her oxygen levels for most of her activity and daily life. There's a chance she won't, but more importantly, there is a chance she will and that's what we are all focused on right now.

IPF

2009-02-03T19:01:00.005-05:00

I haven't posted in a long time because I haven't been able to bring myself to write about all that is on my mind. It's too scary. Too sad. Too much for me.

My Mom is a wonderful woman. If I am half the Mom she is, I will consider myself successful in my parenting. She was an excellent role model for me growing up and she has been an excellent Granny to all of my children. She never forgets Hannah, Ryan and Abby's birthdays and always remembers them with me by bringing me 3 roses (2 pink and one yellow). Joey and Laura both adore her~and why shouldn't they? She gets children. She has infinite amounts of patience with them, enjoys them and spends enormous amounts of time with them.

But, my Mom is sick. Very sick. And if she has the illness that they believe she has, she will not recover. She is home from the hospital (she spent 14 days there, 12 of which were in ICU, with severe Pneumonia) but she is on a lot of supplemental oxygen and she really can't do anything without it, except sit and talk. With it, her mobility is extremely limited. However, worse than her current state is the "prognosis" for the disease she has. It is progressive, and the progression is often rapid. The mean life span from diagnosis is 2 years.

I cannot wrap my brain around this situation. On December 2, my folks joined us for breakfast with Santa at our local camp and my Mom was running after Laura, laughing and having so much fun. On December 12, she was whipping around the tennis court with her doubles partner and won an exceedingly challenging but enjoyable match. On December 22, she was in ICU. How does that happen? Why has this happened?

Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis.

My heart cannot handle this.

Going Shopping...

2009-01-09T15:01:00.006-05:00

For a while after Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, I turned my anger towards the Church. I felt like what I had learned about God growing up had failed me in my greatest time of need and when I turned to my Church for comfort I felt as if I had somehow failed them (Hannah, Ryan and Abby) because I didn't pray hard enough, or the right way, or that I wasn't Christian enough for God to save them. I'm sure a lot of this has to do with my own anger and sadness and needing a place to put those feelings, but some of it had to do with the Minister, his sermons and how adamant he was about what I *should* do regarding Hannah, Ryan and Abbys' cremains.

However, over the years, I have thought about going back-perhaps not to the same Church (although they have a new Minister now, so it's a possibility). Now that Joey is 3 1/2 years old, I realize that I can not take on the task of teaching him about God without the Church to guide and support me. So, this year, I will try different services until I find a Church I feel comfortable calling "home".

Last week I attended the Contemporary Family Service of one of the Churches on my list. I had not yet attended a "contemporary" service, although I have noticed that many of the Churches are going this route for the Family Service. Instantly, I noticed there are many differences between "contemporary" and "traditional" services: instead of the Choir, they had a Jazz band (who was quite good, actually), the Minister was in plain clothes and the service was held in the social hall (with coffee and snacks provided) and they used a power point presentation to illustrate points. The one thing I did really like about it was when it came time for prayers for celebration or healing, the Minister talked about the power of prayer's ability to heal us spiritually instead of physically. He never once said "We pray for so-and-so to get better" but he did say "We pray for so-and-so and hope that God's presence will ease his pain" (or help the family, etc). This was certainly something different from what I had in my previous Church.

When I thought about it later, I liked the Minister's approach towards prayer, but I don't know that the "contemporary" approach is what I'm looking for. I think I like the more formal, traditional style. The rituals that I learned in my youth (everything from the songs to the prayer readings) meant a lot to me during my wedding and have always provided me with a sense of comfort at any funeral service I have ever attending, include Hannah, Ryan and Abby's.

I have not crossed this Church off my list, but this Sunday, I am going to a more traditional service. We shall see...

Wait and See...

2009-01-04T13:14:00.004-05:00

I strongly dislike not knowing what I'm dealing with. I am not a "stick your head in the sand" kind of person and I handle things much better when I know, rather than when I'm waiting to know.

But, that's where we are with my Mom. She was discharged from the hospital yesterday-not because she is well again-but because there is nothing more they could do for her there. She was sent home on a rather high level of supplemental oxygen and steroid medication and now all there is to do is wait and see.

What we're waiting for is her lungs heal enough so the doctors can figure out what the underlying lung disease(s) is and whether or not it is reversible, progressive or stable. There is a chance she'll come off oxygen. There is a chance she won't. There is a chance she'll get better. There is a chance she won't. And there is chance she'll get worse until the disease takes her life. They can not tell us anything else.

Limbo. It's a terrible place to be...

The Perfect Storm

2008-12-27T16:47:00.006-05:00

Mom is still in ICU and they think there is the possibility of a hereditary lung disease that is progressive. While it's a slight possibility, it's still a possibility and I'm scared. I go to visit her every day and she's still the same Mom she's always been: caring, supportive, loving, grateful and happy. And yet she's on oxygen and has been in the ICU for a week now. It is serious. For now, we are hoping that she will be moved from ICU within the next 2 days, and we're really hoping that she doesn't have this lung disease. I'm scared. Very scared.

Two days ago, Laura flipped over backwards on her little chair and hit her head on the fireplace hearth. She cried for about 10 minutes and then started bleeding out her left ear. We spent the rest of the day going from doctor to doctor, including X-Rays and MRI's to rule out skull fractures and brain damage. Thankfully, all those tests were negative. She did have raging double ear infections and the impact of her fall caused one of her ear tubes to come out. They aren't sure why she had so much bleeding from the ear (which has, thankfully, stopped) but we're on a course of antibiotics (both drops and oral medication) to clear up the infections, then we'll determine what do to regarding the lost tube. While I remained perfectly calm during all the testing, doctor's visits, etc. Afterwards, all I wanted to do was fall apart and cry, but I couldn't because I didn't have any time alone.

And the kicker is that my sister-in-law is pregnant again, with number 3. I feel a whole mix of confusing emotions: jealousy, anger (at life, not at them), desire for another myself, joy for them but, most of all, sadness. WE were supposed to be the family of 5. WE were supposed to have more children. It comes so easy for them and yet it was so hard for us. We had so many complications and difficulties and sadness and pain that there was no real choice for us but to end our fertility journey. We wanted more children. We just couldn't take the chances that things would go wrong for us, yet again. The risks are now too high...

Whenever someone I know gets pregnant again, there is always a twinge of jelousy and awkwardness inside me. I don't wish away time but I do look forward to the days when most of my friends are finished having children so I no longer feel that awkwardness. I was so hoping that I wouldn't have to feel this way again with the people who mean the most to me. I hoped that my siblings wouldn't have any more children and we would be passed the baby-making days. But now I find myself thrown back into all that pain and sadness and awkwardness and it's so much more difficult when it's people I truly love. I want to feel nothing but happiness for them. And yet I can't because it hurts so much.

Power of Prayer

2008-12-22T15:59:00.007-05:00

Today, my Mom was admitted into the hospital with severe pneumonia. After an hour or so in the hospital, they relocated her to ICU. She cannot breathe on her own and is very sick. The next 24 hours are critical-to see how she responds to IV antibiotics and oxygen. I am scared.

While I do not believe we can pray for specific outcomes or things, I do believe in the power of prayer to provide us with strength. Today, my family could use some support and some strength. I ask you to please to take a moment of time out of your day to say a prayer for my Mom, my Dad and the rest of my family.

Thank You.
===
It's Christmas Eve day and I'm going to see my Mom today. It's the first time she's wanted visitors, so I take it that's a good sign. However, she's not responding to the treatments as they had hoped she would. She's still in ICU and will be there for quite some time. I feel so badly for her. She won't be home for Christmas, but we will take bits and pieces of Christmas to her, instead.

Last night, I went to my parents' house and cleaned it for my Dad and so that when Mom comes home, it will be nice for her. When Dad got home, we decorated the tree together and then spent a really nice time admiring our "work" and talking. It's been a very stressful week for my Dad and I think he enjoyed the company. I know I enjoyed being with him.

I wish you all a very safe, happy and healthy Christmas and may you and yours experience all the love and joy of this holiday. Again, please continue to keep my family in your prayers.

The Yuletide Begins

2008-12-08T23:07:00.006-05:00

This past weekend, we went out as a family and purchased our Christmas Tree. It a Pennsylvania Douglass Fir, so it is tall but well tapered and not too wide. Joey, R and I decorated it together and it is beautiful.

I worked tonight, and as is customary for Mondays in our household, I arrived home after the kids were asleep. R had some work to finish up on the computer, so I made myself a cup of hot tea and took my book into the family room to enjoy the quiet and read for a while. When my cup was empty, I closed my book and let the dog out. I switched the lights off and went to turn the tree lights off, but stopped suddenly. The tree was magnificent with it's softly glowing lights in the now darkened room, and quite unexpectedly, I was overcome with emotion. Soft tears fill my eyes.

I wasn't sad by any means. I was just full of some rather powerful feelings. As it does so often during moments like this, my mind went to Hannah, Ryan and Abby. It was my first quiet moment of the Christmas season and I am grateful that I spent it with them.

Grief and Depression

2008-12-03T15:33:00.008-05:00

Within months of losing Hannah, Ryan and Abby, people started asking me if I was going to take medication for my depression. I often heard this from well-meaning friends and I began to wonder if I needed medication. I knew I was sad and that my sadness wasn't like anything I had ever experienced before and I knew that how I felt certainly seemed to match the little I knew about depression, but taking medication didn't seem right to me, even during the darkest days of my grief. It somehow seemed like I would be denying myself the right to grieve, which I seemed to innately know that even though it was difficult, it was something I had to do.

However, as more time when by and I wasn't feeling better, I realized that if I wanted to piece my life back together (and I did) that I needed help, so I made an appointment with a counsellor. At my first session, I asked her this question: "Is what I'm feeling normal for someone whose children have died?" I wanted to know-I needed to know-that my feelings were normal. My counsellor helped me understand that, yes, what I was feeling was completely normal because I was experiencing acute grief and that it is a natural and healthy (albeit painful) process of grieving. She explained to me that losing a child (or children) is the worst loss a person can experience, ever and that acute grief lasts much longer than most people realize. When polled, most people say that it takes 2-3 months to recover from the loss of a loved one (any loved one, not necessarily the loss of your child/ren) but studies have shown that most people grieve deeply for at least a year after someone has died.

I am not an expert on grief or depression. I know very little about either, with the exception of my own experiences with losing loved ones. However, I find it sad that so many women are told they need medication after their child/ren die, when in truth, they would benefit more from counselling, support groups and support in general. I have no clinical knowledge about either topic, but I have to believe that it's important to go through the stages of grieving in order to start the process of healing. And yet so many people are denied this right by their family, their friends and even the professionals that they seek help from. I can't help but wonder why this is?
===
Please don't feel like I am anti-medication, because I am not. I think medication can and does have a place in many situations and perhaps grief is one of them, but I think it's often used as a first attempt instead of a last resort in helping people-especially women-who are experiencing grief. If I have offended you, I am very sorry-that was not my intent in this post. I am just trying to understand why grief is so often confused with depression.

What a Difference Time Does Make

2008-11-28T10:36:00.004-05:00

5 years ago, R and I decided to "host" Thanksgiving dinner. It was just 3 short weeks after Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born and I think we were both hoping that having something to do would help us through the holiday. I don't remember much, except that R grilled the turkey and burned it, char and I cried throughout Grace and most of the dinner. It was a very sad day and although I knew there were things I was Thankful for, I couldn't see them.

This year, we decided to host it again. The turkey was grilled to perfection, our table looked beautiful, and the house was full of life. We had my sister and her 4 children, my brother and sister-in-law and their 2 children, my parents and my grandma. It was complete chaos as the kids played and laughed and got alone the way only family can. When it was finally time to eat, we all sat around the tables and my 7 year old niece said Grace. I was listening to her, but I was also thinking about Hannah, Ryan and Abby.

This year, though, as I looked down the table at my family, I smiled and my heart filled with joy. This year, I can clearly feel and see all the things that I am Thankful for.

Saying Goodbye

2008-11-20T15:10:00.005-05:00

In 6 days from now, my membership will expire from a comprehensive support site that I have participated in for 5 years. I have already written about this in a previous post, but now that's it's so close, I need to write about it again.

The women there supported me through the darkest days of my grief, through all the ups and downs of trying to conceive again, the roller coaster of emotions that surrounded my subsequent pregnancies (and the complications I experienced) and through the early days of nursing, sleep deprivation and parenting after experiencing such a devastating loss. There were times in the past 5 years that I needed a lot of support and was unable to give much back and there were other times when I provided a lot of support and didn't need much myself. In the midst of trying times, it was my lifeline and the women I "met" there are truly wonderful, caring people.

My life now has now developed a sense of normalcy and routine. I feel strong again, have a solid network of friends, and I'm fortunate that a few of them are special people whom I can talk to about almost anything. I am not afraid to reach out and share things about Hannah, Ryan and Abby with some of them, but it is a rare moment anymore when I feel a need to do this.

For a brief while after Joey was born, my feelings were all jumbled up~I was overjoyed and in love with the son that I held in my arms but my heart also ached for the children that I would never hold again. I felt the harsh reality of what was lost when Hannah, Ryan and Abby died: it was not the opportunity to love them-for there is no doubt that I love them-but it was the opportunity to know them. Although I never felt guilty for being so happy that Joey was here, there were many times (especially late at night when I was nursing him) that I would cry tears for Hannah, Ryan and Abby and then feel terribly guilty for not cherishing that time with Joey. In those early days, when everything was so new and confusing, the site and the women were really helpful and supportive. But once my hormones balanced out, I started getting more sleep and we developed a routine, I realized that I could love Joey and mourn Hannah, Ryan and Abby at the same time and that I wasn't shafting any of them. I also developed a confidence that Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births would not fundamentally affect the way I parent Joey or Laura.

And so in 6 days, I will no longer log on to the site that sustained me in my early days of grief and followed me through my years of recovery. This site was one small way that I stayed connected with Hannah, Ryan and Abby on a regular basis and so leaving it has made me just a little sad.

Getting Away

2008-11-10T13:02:00.007-05:00

R and I are back from our vacation. I must admit that going into it, I was a bit nervous that we wouldn't know what to talk about now~for so long, our lives were consumed with grief, trying to conceive, the high risk pregnancies and then life as new parents. It's not that we don't talk at home, because we do, but it's different when you don't have every day life distractions and kids to focus on.

Thankfully, that wasn't the case. If anything, the opposite happened. R and I reconnected in a way we haven't since prior to Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births. We went into the trip as parents taking a much needed vacation from their lives and we came home as husband and wife, excited to see our kids. It was refreshing, relaxing and rekindling.

For both of us, this trip was symbolic of a new beginning, the start of a new chapter in our lives. We both still honor and remember Hannah, Ryan and Abby (each in our own special way), but the dark, painful days of grieving are behind us now. It's very liberating not having to focus our time, energy and money trying to build a family. It frees us up to focus on our family as well as our future and our every day life.

We are now home from a spectacular get-away. It's unlikely we'll take another 7 day trip without the kids any time soon, but we both have recognized the importance of getting away together and we've committed to prioritizing weekend trips every now and then.

It's so nice to be able to finally do this.

I'm Sorry Abby

2008-10-28T19:53:00.004-04:00

I'm tired today. Not so much physically but emotionally. I'm ready for this day and this week to be behind me. It's not that I don't want to honor Abby on this day because I do. She was my kicker, my fighter and my largest baby. She was the one I was so sure would survive. But she didn't survive and right now, it feels like too much.

Really, there is so much and so little to say at the same time. When I think back to the week of October 23-28, 2003 it seems surreal. It's hard to wrap my brain around the magnitude of hope and pain we had and I can't help but wonder how we managed to function and survive. After I said goodbye to Abby, I wanted everyone to go away and leave me alone and yet I was scared to be alone. My nerves were frayed and the range of emotions that coursed through me was absurd. But in some ways, I felt relief. It was over.

It's now October 28, 2008 and it is a cold and rainy day. The kids and I were all cranky. Instead of going to the gym and taking care of myself, I tried to comfort myself by eating disgusting amounts of Halloween candy, all of it chocolate, and now I feel queasy.

I wanted to write something eloquent and beautiful for Abby today, but I can't seem to find the words. While it wasn't the worst anniversary week I have had, it was much harder than I thought it would be.

I'm sorry Abby. I wish I could have given you more in 2003 and I wish I could give you more, now. I miss you and I love you very much. Still. More than ever.

~Remembering Ryan~

2008-10-27T08:26:00.007-04:00

Today is Ryan's birthday. He was born around 5:30 a.m. in a very quiet room that only had R and me in it at the time of his birth.

This morning, at 5:30 a.m. I was holding a different boy. For some reason, Joey woke up crying so I went to him. Instead of sitting on the edge of his bed, I crawled into it with him. I stroked his hair and whispered soft words to comfort him and he quickly fell back asleep. I continued to stroke his hair and closed my eyes, but I did not find sleep.

Instead I thought about my other son, Ryan. I thought about his entrance into this world. I thought about how, even in death, I was unable to lightly stroke his hair and whisper soft words to comfort him. He was the second child born to an interval birth. While there is never enough time with any child who is dying, with my son, I had to let go of him before he died. Shortly after his birth, just as in Hannah's birth, I was given a heavy dose of Magnesium Sulfate to stop contractions with the hope of saving my third child. Once the Mag hit me, I was physically sick, excruciatingly hot, and incapable of caring for my only son, even though the only care he required at the time was to be held and loved. I am so grateful that R was there and that he was able to do the things that I was not.

At some point this morning, I left Joey and went to Ryan. I sat and looked at his photo for a long time. I wonder who he would look like now? At birth, he resembled my family so much more than Hannah or Abby did. Would he have been my only child to look like me? Would he have been big, like my brother? Would he be blond with blue eyes like Joey and Laura or would he have had my brown eyes and auburn hair? It's impossible to know how he would look today because babies change so much as they develop and grow. I guess it doesn't matter. What I do know is that in his birth, he was an absolutely beautiful baby boy.

Today I am sad.

Today I miss my other son.

I love you Ryan.

~Honoring Hannah~

2008-10-24T13:27:00.009-04:00

Today is Hannah's birthday. She would have been 5 years old.

Yesterday I was sad as I thought about my sweet babies and all the lost opportunities we have missed out on. Before falling asleep, I cried lightly while R held me, but then I fell into a deep slumber and slept soundly through the night.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of R and Laura laughing together. It made me smile and feel good inside. And then they were in our room. R put her on the bed and she was climbing all over me, laughing and giving me her big, sloppy, open mouth kisses. I felt Hannah near, in my heart, but I was up and starting another busy day.

It's only now that Laura is sleeping and Joey is having "quiet time" that I have the time to think about this day and about Hannah. If I wanted to, I know I could sit on the floor of my room, think sad thoughts and dredge up the darkness that engulfed my life 5 years ago. I could put myself back into the depths of grief and relive that horrible week. It would be easy to do, if I wanted too.

But this year, I don't have that awful feeling of despair that I have had in past years, and I don't want to force a sadness that I don't feel just to keep Hannah, Ryan or Abby "alive". For me, the way to keep them "alive" is not through grief, but through love.

And so, when I'm done with this post, I will sit quietly and go through Hannah's memory box. I will look at her pictures and gently unfold the soft, thin blanket that she was wrapped in for her short life and I will run my fingers over her footprints. I will cherish the tangible reminders I have from my firstborn child. I may cry, and that's perfectly fine. I may not cry and that's perfectly fine too.

I will try not to reflect on what I have lost, but rather, to see all that I have gained. Today, I will try to honor Hannah by seeing the many gifts that her life has brought me.

10/23/03

2008-10-23T07:38:00.004-04:00

5 years ago tonight, my world started crashing. I remember so clearly our last hour of innocence. R and I were laying in bed, me on my side with his arms wrapped around my body and his hands lightly touching my belly, feeling Hannah, Ryan and Abby's kicks and bumps. We were talking, dreaming, about our life to come. We were excited. We were having triplets.

R turned off the light around 11:00 p.m. and was lightly snoring about 1/2 hour later until my panicked voice called to him from the bathroom: "R, call the OB. My water just broke" Although I had never experienced PROM before, I knew with great clarity that this is what had just happened. R was groggy and moving slowly and I felt so angry with him that he wasn't taking faster action. Later, he appologized for this because at the time, he didn't think my water had broken~it was just too soon for something like that to happen.

When we were in the car R kept asking me if it was a slow leak. We were both hoping, praying that it was, even though I knew it was a full rupture. There was just too much fluid. On the ride, I felt another big gush of warmth run down my leg and I was scared, but I had never had a baby before so I didn't understand the full magnitude of what this meant.

We were rushed up to L&D and the resident on call did an ultrasound. One of the babies had very little amniotic fluid. I remember asking if she could tell the gender and when she said "boy" I was devastated. Ryan. My baby boy.

And yet, there was amniotic fluid, which is always replenishing itself, so there was hope. I was told we would know more in the morning, when the perinatologist could come see me. That night, R slept on a lounge chair and I slept on my side, in trandelenberg position. I can't remember, but I'm pretty sure the Doctor gave me a sleeping pill because even though I didn't sleep well, I did sleep.

It would be the last time that week that I slept.

I still didn't understand that this was the beginning of the end.

The Wonderment of Joe

2008-10-21T12:51:00.010-04:00

Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is soccer day.

Just like every soccer day, Joey, Laura and I arrived first. For some reason, we were exceptionally early today so we walked over to the skate park to watch a kid skateboarding for a while. Joey was enthralled by his tricks and how he flipped the board around.

When we saw Coaches John and Paul, I scooped up Laura and the 3 of us walked towards the field. I put Laura down and she started playing with one of the balls, and I turned to Joey.

"Ready?" I said in my most casual voice as I put my hand out towards his. With a less than enthusiastic voice he said "yeah" and put his little hand in mine. Together, we walked towards the coaches. Other kids were trickling in and running by us. Then, out of the blue, the most wonderful thing happened: Joey let go of my hand and started running with the other kids.

He proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes running, playing and laughing. He turned frequently to make sure I was nearby, which I was, but it was only for a second before engaging in the game again.

After 30 minutes, he had had enough, so we sat on the sidelines and talked about what they were doing. He laughed when Coach Paul or Coach John did something goofy (which, in a class of 3-5 year olds, is often) and when it was time to clean up, he jumped up, ran over to the cones and started picking them up. He gave both Coaches big "high fives" and he was beaming as we walked off the field towards our car. So was I.

This kid never ceases to amaze me.

Mounting the Balence Beam...

2008-10-14T14:17:00.009-04:00

I am extremely social so when Joey was a baby, we started going to a playgroup with moms who have children his age. I loved it because my son was exposed to other kids and I had the chance to spend time with the women. As the kids got older, it became obvious that this situation made Joey uncomfortable. The other kids would run around and play with toys, but Joey would cling to me and rarely leave my side. I heard all sorts of advice about what to do: Expose him to more kids more often, leave him to fend for himself, put him in preschool, don't coddle him, if he wants you, walk out of the room, drop out of the group. None of these felt right to me.

I decided that we would keep going but that I would "help" Joey feel more comfortable. My friends would be gabbing away while I sat on the floor, playing with the kids as Joey warmed up. There were days when I didn't have any "grown up time" but Joey would eventually move away from my side and play. It was slow progress, but it was progress.

We still meet weekly and it still takes Joey longer than most to warm up. He's never directly "in the mix" but he's much more comfortable leaving me and playing on his own and recently, he's started interacting more with the other kids.

When I looked at preschools, I looked for one that had smaller classrooms and a higher teacher-student ratio. I found one that I liked and when he walked right into the classroom and started playing, I knew this was a good fit for him. Unfortunately, the kids in the 3 year old program need to be potty trained and Joey is not, so he didn't start school this Fall.

Instead, I enrolled him in a Pee-Wee soccer. I struggled with this decision because I just wasn't sure he would like it. In the end, I figured we'd try it and if it's a disaster, we'll stop. It's a 9 week program for 3-6 year olds and unfortunately, Joey is the youngest in the group. The only way he will even consider playing is if I'm running up and down the field with him. He never strays too far from me and often, he retreats back to holding my hand and "resting" on the sidelines. I have to coax him onto the field and there are times when he fights me hard. Most of the time, he cries and whines and then just when I think we should call it quits, he'll run down the field kicking the ball and a huge smile will creep across his face. Or he'll laugh as Coach John or Coach Paul chases him to the goal. Recently, I noticed he'll occasionally start talking to the kid next to him. When thess things happen, he looks like he's having a really good time.

Sometimes when I watch the other kids gleefully racing off, barely casting a second glance at their moms, I feel frustrated because Joey is clutching my leg or begging to be "up" (held). I would much rather be sitting on the sidelines drinking coffee with the other moms, not running up and down the field with him. And, when I'm honest with myself, I know I wish sometimes that Joey was less clingly and more sociable and that makes me feel guilty. I recognize the last thing he needs to feel is that I'm dissapointed in him, so I try not to show my frustration, but I'm sure there are times that he can sense it.

I know he's out of his comfort zone in soccer. That's not the question I ask myself. What I think about is if he's too far out of his comfort zone so that it's counter productive and hurting his social confidence. Am I pushing him too hard? Should we hang up the towel and call it quits? There are 2 more sessions of soccer left. He participates, laughs and smiles more than he did when we started, but he still doesn't love it. I'll be happy when it's over. I think he will be, too.

Parenting is so hard sometimes.There is such a fine line...

Life Goes On...

2008-10-09T08:38:00.005-04:00

With Hannah, Ryan and Abby's birthdays falling right around Halloween, there are always a plethora of activities scheduled for kids. Since Joey was born, I've always said that I will take care of my own needs regarding my grief during this time until Joey was old enough to really enjoy these activities. When that time comes, my grief becomes secondary and Joey's enjoyment of this "holiday" become my priority.

This year my MOMS Club is going to the local senior citizens center so the kids can "Trick or Treat", sing songs, do crafts, etc. with some of the older seniors who don't have family nearby or many visitors. We do this several times throughout the year, but I've never gone to the Halloween event because it usually falls on Hannah, Ryan or Abby's birth day. This year, it's on Ryan's day.

My neighborhood does a Halloween party complete with games, scarecrow making, pumpkin painting and other fun activities. This year, it falls on October 25th~the day Hannah died. Our local Halloween Parade is also on October 25th.

So many activities. Would Joey miss them if he didnt' go? Probably not because he's only 3 1/2 and he wouldn't know they are happening if I didn't tell him. But I will tell him because at 3 1/2, he will really enjoy them.

Will it be hard for me? I really don't know. It's impossible to know how I'm going to feel. But, we will go because even though Hannah, Ryan and Abby died and I love them and miss them, life goes on. And even though it may be difficult at times, I know that's a good thing.

The First Time...

2008-10-05T16:42:00.006-04:00

Last night I was snuggled in bed and nearly drifting off when I began thinking about Hannah, Ryan and Abby. My thoughts were gentle but sad and soft tears fell from my eyes. It was the first time this month that I have cried.

My sadness only lasted a short while before my eyes became heavy and I nodded off to sleep. I woke up this morning to bright sunlight streaming through my windows and Joey's head peaking out his bedroom door. He said a cheerful "Hi Mom!" and then I heard Laura giggling and babbling in her crib. My sadness from the night before was gone. I knew this was going to be a happy morning and a happy day.

My life is full now and as a person, I am happy again. But in a few short weeks, I will quietly honor the 5 year anniversary of Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births. I still love and miss them every bit as much as I did when they were born, and so I expect that as their birth days get closer, I will feel more moments of sadness. Last night just happened to be the first time.

I know it will not be the last time.

10 Years...

2008-10-02T19:11:00.004-04:00

When R and I planned our honeymoon, 10 years ago, we chose a location that had everything we wanted: golf, tennis, skeet shooting (we didn't seek this out, but thought it might be fun to try), hiking, beach time with all the water sports and spa treatments. We wanted active yet serene. We wanted casual but elegant. We were so excited by our choice.

Less than 2 weeks before our wedding, the eye of a hurricane went through our resort and blew it pretty much off the map. When our travel agent called us and said, "Your resort is completely destroyed. How do you feel about Jamaica instead?" We both responded the same way, "Jamaica sounds great" We really didn't care where we went, as long as we were together. But we promised ourselves we would go to our original honeymoon resort at our 5 year anniversary. As 5 years approached, we postponed our plans because I was pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby. 10 years. We decided we would go at 10 years.

Our ten year anniversary is October 31. We will take the kids out to trick or treat, then drop them off at my folks because on November 1st, at the crack of dawn, we will board a flight to our honeymoon resort.

I'm excited. We plan to play tennis, scuba dive, lounge out on the beach, relax and unwind. We will play all day and dress up for a nice dinner at night. We will go to bed early. Or not. It won't matter because we can sleep in, if we choose too. Although I will miss the kids dearly, I know that this is a much needed vacation for R and me. It will be our first "couple" vacation since before we conceived Joey-over 4 years ago. Our last "couple" vacation, although wonderful, was wedged between our grief over Hannah, Ryan and Abby and our anxiety over whether or not we would bring children into our lives.

The timing of this vacation isn't lost on either of us~yes, it's our 10 year wedding anniversary, but we depart on Saturday, 5 years to the day of our Memorial Service for Hannah, Ryan and Abby. It also comes just a short time after we made the final decision to donate our embryos for training purposes, therefore ending our fertility journey.

But rather than feeling sad about the timing, R and I both feel as if this vacation signifies a new beginning for us, as if we are walking through some imaginary door to another side of our life together and when we return, we will be ready to start living that life.

Corney? Perhaps. But I am ready...

Letting Go...

2008-09-11T20:49:00.015-04:00

I was never an "Internet" person. I used it as a tool-a way to find directions or information for things I needed. I didn't understand the allure of chat rooms and message boards~honestly, for the longest time I didn't even know they existed...

Then when my pregnancy with Hannah, Ryan and Abby developed complications I found and joined The Triplet Connection. After they died, someone referred me to another site for "Loss Moms". On November 27, 2003 I paid a nominal fee for an upgraded membership and officially joined the online community. Every day, for weeks and months, I would log on and spend time pouring out my soul to women who understood my pain. After a few months, I began responding to newer loss moms and their posts. Eventually, I realized the site was comprehensive, and I found a board for "Trying to Conceive After the Loss of an Infant/Child". When I became pregnant, I moved onto the "Pregnancy after Loss of an Infant/Child" and when that pregnancy became complicated, I posted on the "High Risk Pregnancy" board. This site has everything and so it was easy to find a place to post about what was happening in my life and to read about what was happening with other people and their lives. Although I don't frequent the site as often as I did in the early days, I still log on often.

This summer, I spent most of my time at the shore. I didn't have computer access so while the kids napped, instead of "logging on" I did my chores then sat and read for a while. On the days I was home, I caught up on email, wrote a little here (on my blog) and caught up with friends, but I didn't spend much time on the support site. I was surprised when I realized that I didn't miss it. I was more surprised when I realized that I felt better and stronger than I have in a long time and I think some of that has to do with not being involved in the site.

From my grief/recovery experience, I have a new respect for the Internet and a new appreciation for chat rooms and messages boards. They clearly helped me through the darkest days of my life. However, I think it's time for me to say goodbye to the site. This year, when November 27 rolls around, instead of renewing my membership, I plan to let it expire.

Even though I'm a little nervous to let go, I know in my heart that I'm going to be okay and that's a very peaceful feeling.

Made My Decsion

2008-09-03T14:31:00.005-04:00

This morning, I had an appointment with my OB/GYN because I have had a chronic problem (nothing serious) on and off for years but all it takes is a medication and it usually clears right up. This time, I asked the doctor if we should probe further to figure out why I keep having this problem instead of just writing the prescription to clear it up. This was something I never really thought to ask about before, probably because I was too busy being pregnant or post-partum and had many other things on my mind.

She surprised me by saying that it's very common for women in infertility treatments, pregnancy, post-partum or for women who are nursing to have my problem and once those elements are removed, after a course of medication, the condition usually doesn't return. She also added that all the stress that I was under throughout the all these processes probably exasperated my problem. Now that my body is more regular, I will probably be fine.

Later today, I talked with the RE from my clinic. I asked all kinds of questions with the hope that the answers would bring me clarity and comfort with the decision I need to make regarding my embryos. As the conversation was coming to a close, he asked if I wanted to make an established patient consultation to go over all the odds, percentages and options available to us. He said he would transfer me to the front desk for an appointment. I hesitated a little too long and he finally said to me "April, I can't tell you what to do-this is a decision only you and R can make. However, at some point you need to think about your physical health and emotional well-being..."

Today I spoke with two doctors that have my utmost respect and both of them, in subtle ways, confirmed what I know to be true: I am better off closing the door on my infertility journey. And so, today I checked the box "Donate to research and training" and I put the letter in the mail.

I feel sad in many ways. How could I not? But, honestly, I am also relieved. I am no longer ready to move forward. I am moving forward.
======
Later that night, I had a complete meltdown. I couldn't stop thinking that I've made a terrible mistake, that I'm not done having children, that I would use all of the embryos with the hopes of having one or two more children. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and have R put his arm around me and hold me while I cried. Unfortunately, R was traveling that day so all he could do was listen to me over the phone.

The next morning, I was still wondering if I'd made a grave mistake. I even thought about calling the clinic to see if they would rip up the form and bill me for another year of storage, instead. But, I didn't do this.

Now, almost 5 days later, I still feel sad, but I know that it will fade. It does make me feel better knowing that my embryos will be used for training-that the embryologists will study them and learn how to find and test different chromosomes. I'm holding onto the belief that my embryos will help save a family from having a child with T-18 or some other chromosomal factor that is incompatible with life.

What To Do?

2008-08-18T19:54:00.010-04:00

It came today-the letter from my infertility clinic telling me that I have until September 8, 2008 to decide what I want to do with my frozen embryos. I have 4 choices:

1) Keep them frozen
2) Donate to an infertile couple
3) Donate to the clinic for research and training
4) Destroy

When we started this journey, R and I discussed what we would do if we had embryos left. Together, we decided we would donate them to research and training with the hopes that our embryos would, in some way, help someone else. Of course, at that time the embryos we were talking about were purely hypothetical. Now they are real and each one is a biological blend of R and me that could potentially become a person and could carry with him or her all the promise that new life brings.

However, I know we can not use these embryos. If there was one, perhaps 2, maybe I would consider a frozen embryo transfer (FET) but there isn't one or two, there are 7. Knowing I would never transfer more than one embryo again would mean we have 7 more FET attempts ahead of us. I get overwhelmed just thinking about all the hormone treatments, ultrasounds, blood work, driving to and from the clinic, and stress that the process brings. I can't even imagine what that would do to us as a family or to me as a woman, wife and mother. I've done it 9 times. I don't want to do it anymore.

So I read my choices again and think about each one.

Keep Them Frozen: Storing them, when I know we will never use them, isn't a good idea, financially or emotionally. It just prolongs the decision for another year and prevents me from truly closing the door and moving forward with my life.

Donate to an Infertility Couple: I so wish I were the kind of person who could donate my embryos to another couple, but I am not. The thought of my biological children and biological siblings of Hannah, Ryan, Abby, Joey and Laura, in this world but not knowing them-it would make me crazy. I would wonder who they are, who they look like, how their life is. It's just not something I can do.

Destroy Them: Destroying them seems like such a waste, not only of human potential, but of the potential to indirectly help other people through the knowledge that may be gleaned through research and training. Destroying them is not an option for me.

That leaves Donating to Research and Training. In my heart, I know that if I'm not going to transfer them that this is the right option for me.

So, why then, didn't I just check the Donate To Research and Training box and mail the letter back? Why did I pick up the phone and call the clinic to find out the exact quality of these embryos? Why can't I stop thinking about them in terms of the potential life that each one of them has? I know I don't want to go through it all again and I'm not even sure I want more children, but I'm not sure I'm ready to let them go, either.

I Don't Want To, Again. I Don't Think...

2008-08-05T08:05:00.008-04:00

Because of infertility treatments, pregnancy and nursing, it has been over 2 years since I've had a period and I must say, it's been really nice. I'm very slowly weaning Laura from nursing and since I know I'll never nurse again, I haven't been in any big hurry to stop.

This morning, I got my period. Of course, I knew this could happen and, frankly, I'm a bit surprised it hasn't come earlier, but I was still taken aback a little. It's not that I'm menstruating that threw me off-it's that my body is ovulating again. This means that if I wanted to, I could go back into infertility treatments to try again.

I don't want to get pregnant again. Trying to getting pregnant and being pregnant are too complicated, time consuming and emotionally and financially taxing. Although it would be temporary, I know the stress of another pregnancy would impair my ability to parent Joey and Laura the way I want and it would cause a lot of tension for me and my marriage.

While pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby, I loved the idea of life growing inside me and I know the joy radiated throughout me. With Joey, some of that spark was dimmed, but even through the stress I was still able to marvel and cherish the miracle of it all. However, with Laura's pregnancy, I was so stressed out that I found it too difficult to embrace anything. The pregnancy just felt really long and it was emotionally draining. All I wanted was to speed up time so the pregnancy part would end and I could enjoy my baby. My experiences have stripped me of the ability to take pleasure in the miracle of pregnancy.

And, there are other reasons I don't want to get pregnant again. I'm now almost 40 and my energy level and need for sleep are much different than they were at almost 30. We're at a good place in our life, we've settled into a comfortable routine, met a lot of great friends and we have a nice balance of family time, me time and couple time. Overall, our life is really good. It's easy, it's fun and I'm happy.

So, why then was I so rocked this morning when I realized my body could get pregnant again? I'd like to say it's all hormonal but I don't know that it is. Certainly I'm not going to do anything with this knowledge but it still has me feeling a little unsettled. A little unsure. A little confused...

Getting A Taste of the Teen Years...

2008-07-27T21:43:00.008-04:00

My sister is in the middle of a very long, drawn out and nasty divorce from a man who is controlling and verbally abusive. I admire her for making the very difficult decision to leave him and since she filed (over 2 years ago) I've watched her transform from an empty shell of a woman under his control into the confident, fun loving and happy person that I know is my sister.

Am has 4 children-girl, boy, girl, boy. My oldest niece is 13 years old and on top of the normal angst that comes from the early teen years, she is angry with her parents and she is confused about where to put her trust. My sister has tried to talk to her about puberty, sex, drugs, alcohol and smoking, but hasn't felt like she's made any progress so asked me if I would give it a shot...

Um. Yeah. Sure. Okay. Me? Really?

So, this past week, Chloe and I went for a walk. Big Breath. Another Big Breath. And before I knew it, I was into my first ever "parent-child" heavy duty conversation. I wanted to see if I could gauge how much my niece actually knows about the topic of sex, so I asked her questions, which she answered much more candidly than I expected. We talked about menstruation, shaving, pregnancy and sex. We talked about respecting your own body and about what to do if someone does something, anything, that makes you feel uncomfortable. We talked about appropriate and inappropriate behavior and we talked about dating.

She asked questions, I gave answers. I asked questions, she gave answers. It was an actual conversation. A back and forth exchange. I ended it by telling her the reason I wanted to talk to her was because I know she is struggling with her relationship with her folks and might not feel comfortable talking to them right now. I told her I love her and I know this is a difficult time in her life. I want her to know that she can come talk to me if she has questions, concerns, things she doesn't understand or know how to deal with. When the conversation was over, she hugged me and said "Thank you, Aunt April"

And then it was over. She bounced away as if we had just been talking about something as mundane as the weather. I strolled back into the house thinking about our talk and wondering how much of it she will mull over, later. Overall, I think it was a good experience for both of us and I'm glad I was able to talk to her. However, I am thankful that I have many years before I need to face this discussion with my own children. When that time comes, maybe, just maybe, my niece will be old enough to do it for me...(just kidding~kind of).

I Miss The Crib!!

2008-07-02T06:59:00.007-04:00

Yesterday was day 2 of the big boy bed.

I put Joey down for nap/quiet time (he's transitioning out of the nap but still needs down time/quiet time) and I heard him chatting away for a while then it got quiet, so I went downstairs to straighten up and have some of my own quiet time.

Later, I went back upstairs and heard him chatting again so I decided to get him "up". I opened the door and there he was, sitting on his bed, blissfully playing-his entire room was covered in tissues/tissue bits he had ripped up. Upon hearing the door open, he looked at me and said, with utter joy, "Look Mom, I made a tissue world"

I want the crib back.

Milestones!

2008-06-30T19:38:00.005-04:00

Well~today is a huge day in our household. First, it started with Laura taking three wobbly steps then collapsing in my arms, full in a fit of laughter. She was so proud of herself and full of giggles as she did it again. Her face lit up in complete bliss. I just love to watch kids do new things-they get such a kick out of themselves and think they are so great. I do too.

Then, the mailman delivered a package to our door. That the mail truck drove up our driveway in and of itself is enough to bring Joey complete joy, but the fact that the package was for him made it all the more exciting. Although I knew what was inside (I did order it, after-all) I wondered what he would think. Would he really be happy about the contents? Would he care at all? Would there be dissapointment that the package didn't contain a toy, but rather, it had sheets and a comforter inside?

There was only one way to find out and that was to open it. I saw the confusion on his face when he saw what was inside, but then we took the comforter out of the bag and laid it on the floor and he beamed and exclaimed, "Hey-Mom, there's a digger right there. And a dump truck. And a steam roller. And a backhoe. And a...(okay, you get the point)"

While the bedding was in the wash, he helped me move his new big boy bed from the guest room into his room. Then, instead of quiet time today, he helped me make his new bed. I left his crib set up because I expected am adjustment period and thought it might be easier for him if we did a slow transition-perhaps a few days or a week of naps in the bed but nights in the crib, then a few nights in the bed before we take the crib out.

At bedtime, he wanted me to lay in bed with him and read him stories. I thought maybe he was scared to be alone in his new bed, so I asked him: "Are you nervous, honey?" "No Mom, but it's really cozy in my bed so I want to share it with you"

Who would have thought?

Then, before I left he said, "Mom, I think we should take my crib out tomarow. I don't need it anymore"

So much for transition.

No less then 10 minutes after I put him down, R came home from a late meeting. He went upstairs to say goodnight to Joey before he fell asleep and to check out his new bed but wouldn't you know it-Joey was already sound asleep.

Seems he's adjusted pretty well.

I think I had a harder time with this change than he did! Now if I could only get him to go on the potty....

Rainbow Baby

2008-06-26T20:18:00.006-04:00

The expression "Rainbow Baby" refers to a baby born (who lives) after (a) child/ren dies/die. I've seen it used a lot on various support sites by loss moms but personally, I've never liked the term and I never use it in reference to either of my living children.

About a year-year and half after Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born, I was reading through my local, small town newspaper when an obit caught my eye. It was for a baby who died shortly after her birth. Although I don't know the Mom, I went to school with the Dad for years. I was deeply saddened for this family and for the pain I knew they now feel.

A year ago, I saw in the birth announcements of the very same paper that this couple had gone on to have another child-another girl. I was very happy for them because I know that having a another child doesn't replace the baby who died, but it can soften the pain significantly.

Today, I read in the paper that their baby girl died on June 20 of a rare form of pediatric brain cancer. She was one year old. There was a big article and it ended with "Olivia Rose is predeceased by her sister, Elizabeth Hope..." I feel sick with sadness for this family. Babies aren't supposed to die and certainly this isn't supposed to happen to a "Rainbow Baby". But it does.

Perhaps that's why I dislike the expression...

Is It Because 5 Years Is Right Around The Corner?

2008-06-23T16:55:00.003-04:00

Recently, I bought new bedding, a lamp, sheets, throw pillows and a valance for Joey's room. His room is currently very "baby" and when he goes into his big boy bed (which should have already happened but hasn't) I'm going to redo everything.

The new theme is of trucks and cars and he's going to LOVE it. I tend to be one of those people who does the whole "Kit and Kaboodle" when I decorate (especially the kids' rooms), so I'll paint the drawer pulls navy (or maybe I'll paint the furniture navy and the drawer pulls red) and it will be "fun" and bright and cheery. And, did I mention that he's going to love having trucks as a theme?

So, why can't I bring myself to start pulling down the border? Why can't I take off the wall hangings that I painted while I was on bed rest? Why can't I stop thinking that this is the final "let go" of physical reminders from when I was pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby?

Why is this so hard?

How Old Are They?

2008-06-16T15:05:00.010-04:00

Every year, a theme park in my state hosts a Deaf Awareness Day and the entire park is accessible via interpreters. I did this job for years because it's a fun gig and very social. The last time I did it was in 2002 because the following year, I was newly pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby and although there were no complications at the time, I didn't think it was a good idea to be in the heat and on my feet, even for part of the day.

When the coordinator called me this year to see if I was interested in interpreting again, I said yes right away. I was excited because it would be nice to have a day with people who know me not as a Mom, but as a professional.

An hour before the park opened, we (the interpreters) started "working". We had a 15 minute informal meeting with the Interpreter Coordinators to discuss the logistics for the day, then we had 45 minutes to socialize, have coffee and breakfast. It was wonderful for me: there were plenty of hugs, a few tears and a lot of laughs as I caught up with some old friends. But, before I knew it, the doors were getting ready to open and we all scattered to our assigned locations. The day flew by and working again was exhausting and exilerating for me at the same time.

Just as my day was winding down, a Deaf woman I worked with for many years but hadn't seen in a long time approached me and gave me a huge hug. She commented that it had been years since we'd seen each other but that she's thought of me often and wondered how I was doing. With a huge smile she signed, "I'm so impressed you're here with how busy you must be. How old are the triplets now?"

At that given moment, I would have done just about anything to be somewhere else. It wasn't that she mentioned Hannah, Ryan and Abby, or even that she didn't know they died. It was that she was so excited to see me and she was so happy for me and now I had to tell her what happened.

"Oh, I guess you never heard that unfortunately, they were born prematurely and all three of them died shortly after their births" and then, without missing a beat, I went into what I call "making them feel better mode" I rushed over the fact that they died and moved right into my current life: "it was very difficult but the greatest gifts they have given me are my 3 year old son, Joey and my 1 year old, Laura, who are the light of my life...and you, how are you doing?"

I did everything I could to make it easier for both of us, but it was clearly uncomfortable and it made me realize why I never went back to full time work after they died. Had I been able to walk into an office and see everyone the first week I was back, I may have done it. But as a freelance interpreter, I worked with so many different people every day that even now, 5 years later, people remember that I was pregnant with triplets but don't know that they died.

And still, almost 5 years later, running into people who ask such an innocent question with such excitement can still knock the wind out of my sails...

Remembering...

2008-06-12T17:46:00.006-04:00

Today, I picked up the worn, beaten down journal that documents my first year after Hannah, Ryan and Abby died. As I held the book in my hands, I thought about all the pain it contains. I opened it and as I read, the words on the pages became familiar to me but there is so much that I have forgotten.

The uncertainty...

1/25/04
...This is so hard...Today, R was holding me and he told me that he wants only for me to be happy again. Then he asked me if being with just him was enough to make me happy. What a difficult question to answer...to have him as my life partner, to share the joys and sorrows of life together, yes, that makes me happy. I can't imagine my life without him and the thought of losing him terrifies me now. But is it enough for me to be "just he and I"? I no longer feel complete being just he and I. The desire to have more children, children we can raise together, is so strong in me now that I don't know if being just he and I will be enough to make me completely happy anymore. Is it enough to make him completely happy? I don't know the answer to that, either....

The longing...

1/29/04
...I tucked Chloe [my niece] into bed tonight and when I held her little body next to mine, my eyes filled with tears...I could hardly let go of her-to feel a child snuggled into my arms--to know the love of that child--for one brief moment, I let myself imagine that she was my own child and it broke my heart to let go of her and feel that emptiness fill up inside me again. Will I ever hold my own child close to my breast and kiss him/her good-night? If I am so fortunate, will the love that child brings to my life alleviate this emptiness that I feel?...

The physical aspects...

3/3/04
Could there be a crueler pain then the death of ones children? I do not think so...the grief has infiltrated every fiber of my being. I feel so out of sorts and so raw again. [I had learned recently that my sister-in-law was pregnant] My heart is so empty and my arms ache for my babies. I want to be excited for Ed and Kate but my own babies deaths are overshadowing my abilities to share in their joy. I feel angry and hurt and it's so confusing. I am so tired. So very tired. I want to lay my head down and sleep for days. My eyes feel so heavy and my head has a dull ache to it, always. The skin on my face is tight from my tears and my eyes are so red and swollen from crying. I can not get it together right now to face even the smallest tasks. I am just so tired...so very tired...

It's hard to explain what I felt, reading these entries. It's almost as if I were reading a book that I couldn't put down. But in some ways I was detached from the grief, as if it wasn't my own. As if it was just a story that I was reading that moved me deeply.

As the 5 year anniversary approaches, I have found myself thinking more and more about those early days of my grief and all they encompassed. I don't want to re-live it, I don't want to go back and be in the dark depths of those early days again, but I have this peculiar need to remember it. All of it.

FREEDOM!

2008-06-09T21:34:00.008-04:00

Laura had deformational plagiocephaly. That's very fancy medical terminology for abnormal head shape. The back left side of her head was flat and in turn, the front left side bulged out, causing all her facial features to be out of symmetry. All this happened because she had torticollis (another fancy medical term that means chronic stiff neck) so she favored her right side because turning her head that way wasn't painful for her.

We had an evaluation with a cranio-facial specialist for a corrective helmet to help restore her natural head shape. We were told that without the helmet, her head may restore itself to a more normal shape but it may not. With the helmet, it won't ever be perfect but her features will re-allign and her flat spot would only be noticeable by people who knew it was there. However, in order for the helmet to work, she would have to wear it for 23 out of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, taking it off only for a bath and so we could clean it. Even with daily cleaning, the helmet would eventually start to smell funky. And, insurance rarely covers them.

Despite our nervousness about how Laura would adjust, but we decided to do it and at 7 months of age, she went into her helmet. Although we had a few really rough nights of sleep at first, she eventually adjusted to it. We went weekly to have head measurements and helmet adjustments and Joey became very well versed in explaining to anyone who asked (and some who didn't) that his sister "...wears a helmet to fix her head shape because it is flat but won't be when she's done with the helmet".

Today, our measurements showed less than a 1/8" differential between her left and right forehead, which is considered completely normal. The flat spot has rounded out nicely and is hardly noticeable, her facial features are back in alignment and although her ears are still "off", it's not noticeable. Today we were told she no longer needs to wear the helmet. Y E A H ! She is free!

I just want to add that the one negative to her newfound freedom is that when she had her helmet on, she would bounce off of furniture or clunk her head without consequence because the helmet acted as a buffer. She's hit her head more than once doing things she's done 1000 times with the helmet but now it hurts! I'm fairly confident it will be a quick learning curve and she'll be bouncing off things again in no time (or perhaps learning to avoid them!)

Just as Guilty

2008-06-06T18:40:00.014-04:00

R and I are friends with our neighbors. They have a son who is one year older than our son and the boys play together well. R and I have always liked both the husband and wife and they are in the process of adopting a daughter who will be 2 months younger than Laura. It's always been a really easy relationship and we've looked forward to their daughter coming home so Laura will have a (female) playmate on our court.

Our parenting styles are very different and there have been times when I've felt the Mom has been harsher then she needs to be with her son, but basically I have always seen them as loving, caring parents.

Except today, I witnessed something that made me feel very uncomfortable. Their son was disobeying his mom and she lost her cool. She started yelling at him and then she picked up a ball from the yard and threw it at him, somewhat hard, hitting him in the head. He started crying and she grabbed his arm, pulling him into a time out. Joey stood there, eyes wide, looking back and forth from Mom to son and then finally, to me. I managed to smile at my son, then I walked over to him, hugged him and started kicking a ball with him, as if nothing had happened. The only comment she made was something like "kids can make you crazy sometimes..." I didn't know what to say and so in turn, I didn't say anything. It was getting on in the day and Laura was getting tired, so we packed up and left.

When we got home, I felt the need to talk to Joey about what happened. I was honest with my son and I told him that L wasn't behaving well and his mom got angry, but Mrs. S didn't behave well, either, because it's not appropriate to hit someone no matter how frustrated or angry you feel. He accepted this and we moved on, but I know my son and I know it had an impact on him.

And, I know that there was something very critical that I left out of our discussion and that was my behavior-or lack thereof. While I feel that talking to Joey was important, the truth is, I should have done something while the situation was happening and I didn't. In many ways, I'm just as wrong as the mom. I want to teach my children to stick up for what they feel is right and yet I didn't do that myself. What kind of message did I send to Joey (and L) by doing nothing? It's not that I didn't feel it was my place to say something, because the behavior was so inappropriate that it deserved, no it needed, to be addressed. And yet, I didn't do anything. And so, by my lack of action, the message I sent to my son that it's okay to allow things like this to happen, even though they are grossly wrong.

I'm not sure what I could have/should have said, but I know that I shouldn't have sat, silent, and let it go. The truth is, it would have been very difficult to say something and so I took the cowards way and said nothing. And that makes me just as guilty.
===
Last night, after the kids were in bed, R and I talked about what happened. He agreed that saying something would be very difficult but that something should have been said. Since we live next door to them we will continue to have a relationship with them and so therefore, it's possible something like this may happen again. We talked about how this would be a defining moment in our friendship with them but we both agree that something needs to be said even if it means an awkward relationship from that point on. The question that still looms, that we're not sure how to answer, is what do I say to show that I won't condone this kind of behavior? We're both still thinking about the best way to handle it.

I hope I don't get into that situation again, but if I do, I hope I have the where-with-all to know what to say and the strength to say it.

Moments of Quiet Thoughts

2008-06-02T22:06:00.006-04:00

Hannah, Ryan and Abby would have been 5 years old this October. They would have just missed the cut off for kindergarten in my state so they wouldn't be going this Fall, but still, they would be five.

Today, I had a rare situation where I was driving alone, which means I didn't have the chatter of Joey and the babble of Laura in the background. I chose not to turn the radio on and was just enjoying the silence. At times like this, I often find my mind goes straight to Hannah, Ryan and Abby. It's amazing to me that here I am, almost 5 years later, and there still hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about them.

Early on, people kept telling me that day would come and that the one day would eventually turn into 2, and then a week, etc. I didn't know what to think about that idea, 5 years ago. Part of me thought that would mean I had recovered from my grief and was living life again and part of me wanted to tell these people to "kiss off" because none of them had lost (a) child/ren so they had no idea how I would feel or think "one day".

It's interesting to discover that I do still think about them daily and I'm living my life and enjoying it again. I don't know why I thought thinking about them every day would somehow mean I was still constantly laden with grief. Perhaps it was because in those early days I could only think about them with grief and sadness and that's no longer true. It's difficult to explain what my thoughts and feelings are now because many times I'm not sure myself, but whatever the emotions are, they are not always heavy and sad. I'm so glad about that.

Anyway, when I have those rare times of being alone, my mind almost always wanders to them in some way. It makes me wonder, sometimes, what other (non-loss) moms think about when they are alone. But more importantly, it makes me cherish even more, my own moments of quiet thoughts.

Birthday Mania...

2008-05-27T14:51:00.008-04:00

It's hard for me to believe, but both my children had their birthdays this month. Laura is now a year old and Joey is 3. Time sure does fly.

We celebrated Laura's birthday with family at our shore house. She was the party girl and had a great time. When everyone started singing "Happy Birthday" to her, instead of bursting into tears like many one year olds do, she looked around somewhat baffled then her face lit up into a huge grin. Without a doubt, she's my socialite!

Since we were at the shore, she had a sandcastle cake, which she loved.

Joey celebrated his birthday with a small party of 4 friends, at our house. It was a construction theme and each child got a hard hat and a paint brush. I set out 5 different paint colors and they painted a cardboard box "house", which was a huge hit for them. For his cake, I made a backhoe loader. (Although I can't take full credit for either of the cakes because I subscribe to a great magazine called Family Fun that gave me the inspiration and directions to make them both!)

What a year it's been...Happy Birthday Joey. Happy Birthday Laura. I love you both.

Ear Tubes

2008-05-18T19:36:00.005-04:00

It's the eve of Laura's ear tube surgery-a date I've anxiously waiting for since February. I know the tubes will alleviate her ear discomfort, help her hear and sleep better, improve her balance and allow her to develop better babble/speech. I've wanted to move forward with this surgery for quite some time but all the insurance issues we had pushed us back a little. And now the date is finally here.

But now I'm am anxiously thinking about all the papers I had to sign last week-the papers that clearly outline the risks of the surgery and the anesthesia. The fine print disclaimers that state I can not hold the doctor or the hospital liable in the event that something catastrophic should happen. People keep telling me that ear tube surgery is the most common surgery done in children under three years old. I know that. It's not the ear tubes that I'm worried about; it's the anesthesia.

And so, while I know it's the right thing to do, I also know I won't sleep well tonight and that I'll be on edge the whole time, until I'm with her in recovery.
===
Monday May 19
9:30 a.m.

We're home from the surgery and Laura is doing great. I can see the difference in her hearing already, as she's searching for sounds she's never responded to before (the car starting, the microwave, etc) and who knows if this is a coincidence or not but she was cruising along the couch and she stopped, let go, started clapping, then cruised on. This was the first time ever that she stood independently. The doctor said he cleaned out all the "gummy nasty stuff" in her ears that would have affected her hearing and balance, so who knows.

Anyway, it was a very long 15 minutes from the time we left her until we saw her again and the fears ran rampant in my mind. I was never so relieved as when the nurse opened the door and we heard Laura screaming at the top of her lungs (a common reaction for babies as they come out of anesthesia. Thankfully, we were well informed it would happen)

I'm exhausted and feel like I could sleep for a week, but I'm so glad it's over and my little girl came through everything just fine.

I'm A Big Boy Now!

2008-05-11T11:06:00.007-04:00

Joey turned 3 last week. How much he understands the concept that this day was his actual birth-day is unclear but he certainly understands that he is no longer 2 and that he is now 3.

"Three means I'm a big boy now, Mom" he continues to tell me. He even declared "Now that I'm three, I can go on the potty." This has been his first expression of interest in potty training, and although he has only wanted to sit on the potty once since then, it's a start.

He also gave me a "list" of things he can do now that he is three and a big boy: he can walk down the stairs by himself (a skill he has had since he was under 2 but Laura's arrival brought back a strong desire in him to be carried), cut his own food with a (plastic) knife, and help me with all kinds of projects, especially those that involved flat or phillips head screw-drivers and scissors, pour his own cereal, crack an egg and push the buttons on the microwave to cook his food.

He is growing up. The thought of him being a "big boy" sometimes brings a huge smile to my face but it also sometimes brings me a little fear and sadness. Fear because I want to keep him safe and close and protected from the harsh realities of life, even though I know that's impossible. Sadness because the older he becomes, the more independent he will become. I try to foster independence because I know it's a good thing, but it's also difficult to let go. I'm sure as the years go by, this will be more and more important yet more and more difficult to do.

The night of his birthday, I read him some new stories and tucked him in. R was working late, so I sat down and started reading my book. A little while later, Joey started crying so I went into his room and stroked his hair and asked him what was the matter.

In a small, scared voice he said, "I had a bad dream, Mom."

I asked him if he wanted me to sit down, hold his hand and sing him a song and he immediately said yes, put his tiny hand in mine and closed his eyes again.

As I was gently singing to him, my eyes filled with tears. Yes, he is becoming a big boy now, but he is also still so young and in the most tender way, he is still very much a baby.

Who Do You Miss The Most?

2008-05-04T21:48:00.014-04:00

I received one of those "get to know you" emails today-the kind that asks you a bunch of questions so your friends can "get to know you" better. Usually I delete them without responding, but this one was from my 12 year old niece, so I decided to answer the questions and send it back to her. The 4th question down asked: "Who do you miss the most?"

I typed Hannah, Ryan and Abby's names and went on to #5. But later, I began to really think about this question and my answer. Do I miss Hannah, Ryan and Abby? Can I miss them if I never really had the chance to know them?

Surely I miss the opportunity to raise them, teach them and parent them. I miss the opportunity to know them, watch their personalities develop and help shape their values and morals. But does this mean I miss them, as people, or do I miss the opportunity of them?

I don't know.

When I was pregnant, I imagined who they would be, based on their movements. Abby was always kicking and jabbing me , hard and often. I dreamed I would be chasing her around the house because she was my wild one. Hannah was active but her kicks were more gentle-like bumps, so even though I felt her often, I pictured her to be quieter, more gentle and feminine. And Ryan, he wouldn't kick often, but when he did, it was constant and furious. He was my sweet little boy but he had a strong spirit and a stubborn side.

When I was pregnant with Joey, he kicked and moved all the time. Once, he kicked me so hard he knocked the wind out of me. I was sure he would be on-the-go nonstop. But when Joey was born, he was about as mellow as a baby could be. As a child, he can still sit and focus on something for a long period of time without getting bored and he's gentle and calm.

Laura almost never kicked me. Many times, I would panic because long stretches would pass without any movement and I would head to labor and delivery for an ultrasound-thankfully to learn that she was fine. Based on my pregnancy with her, one would expected her to be super laid-back. But Laura's nickname is "Spit-and-Beans" shortened from "a spit-fire who is full of beans". She is up at 5:45 every morning and is raring to go. There is nothing mellow about her.

When I think of the dreams I had for Hannah, Ryan and Abby while I was pregnant, I realize now that they were just that: dreams. There is no way to know who they would have become or how they would have grown because I didn't have the chance to learn that about them. And realizing how wrong I was about my living children, I realize too that the dreams I had about them probably aren't even close to the reality of who they would have been.

So, almost 5 years after they were born, when I think of a question like #4, "Who do you miss the most"? I feel confused. Is it possible to miss a person you never knew? Or is what I feel more of a longing for them? Is there a difference between missing and longing? I'm not sure. The only thing I am sure of is a love that I still carry deep within me and how much I miss sharing that love with them.

Maybe you don't need to know someone well to miss them, maybe you only need to love them.

I just don't know...

petty, petty, petty...

2008-05-02T14:51:00.002-04:00

R and I live in a wonderful community with woods and walking trails, 2 lakes-one with a beach and floating dock for swimming and one that we stock for fishing. Most of our neighbors have kids and we can let our kids outside to play without having to be overly concerned for their safety. It's truly a town stuck in a time warp and we love it.

R is the current president of our little neighborhood association and I have recently starting doing a newsletter for the neighborhood. We have 78 homes in our community and almost everyone who lives here is pleasant.

Except 2 couples. One of them is the recent past-president. He's a social man but he's a hot-head and pretty controlling. He seems to be very bitter that he wasn't voted in again for a board position and he seems to be angry at R because he is the new president (although R didn't run against this man, he accepted a nomination afterwards, when we didn't have a president).

The other to people are the wife of the past-president and their neighbor. They seem to have a grudge against anything that's happening in the community. R ignores them and basically only deals with them when he absolutely has to. He's much better at staying neutral and not getting emotionally involved. When they attack him (publicly through email and letters to our entire community) I get upset.

This morning, I was happily walking my children and my dog on a blissfully sunny day distributing the newsletter that I had just finished publishing. It was the kind of experience that made me feel good to be alive, there was a light breeze, trees are in bloom, people were out and about and and I was proud of the newsletter I had recently put together. I was sure there were some errors in it, but for the most part, it's a good piece of work and doing it helps me maintain some level of intellectual use of my brain.

I just put the kids down for a nap and checked my email and there were 3 emails-one from each of the people I mentioned above and they completely ripped me apart for the newsletter. They found so many things "wrong" with it and they proceeded to point every single thing that they saw "wrong" out. The negativity was overwhelming and quite frankly, depressing.

I know they are trying to evoke an emotional response from me, which they have. However, instead of responding to their emails and the demands they have made regarding an explanation of some of the errors (um, they were mistakes?) I have chosen to vent my frustration here and delete their emails.

But, I just don't understand how people can be so petty and expend so much energy creating negativity. It's just mind-boggling.

In One Week....

2008-05-01T09:22:00.010-04:00

my little boy will turn 3 years old. Is it possible to feel nostalgic when only three years have passed? Today, as I watched him pour his own cereal into his bowl, I realized that the little baby I gave birth to three years ago, is no more. He's not even a toddler. He's a boy.

I have to say, I'm enjoying the heck out of him right now. Three is a fun age (minus the tantrums and assertiveness). I'm having a little birthday party for him next week and he's been very involved with the planning-he told me which 4 friends he would like to have, he helped me "write" out the invitations and we put them in the mail together. He's excited about his party-it's a construction theme with games and a construction cone pinata that he helped me make and he's requested a "flat bed tractor trailer" cake. (Thankfully, I'm a certified cake decorator!)

The neat thing about all this is the milestone he's developed: anticipation. At Christmas time, he was excited about Santa coming, but only because we made a big deal about it, not because he understood it. At Christmas time, he hadn't really developed anticipation and now, 5 months later, he has.

With a baby, the milestones are pretty obvious-rolling, sitting, crawling, etc. Of course, there are more subtle milestones, too (pincher grasp, some of the cognitive processes, etc) but with a little boy (or girl) the major milestones can almost go unnoticed because they are so subtle (the use of prepositions in language (as well as other language developments), the understanding of cause and effect in a thought process, the concept of time becomes more relevant, etc) but they are no less significant and important. I love watching these things develop and emerge.

Anyway, it's hard to believe that in just 7 days, my little boy will turn 3 years old. I'd be lying if I said there haven't been days when I've wanted to pull my hair out and cry, but for the most part, the past 3 years with my little man have been wonderful and full of fun-so much more so than I ever imagined they would be!

Saying Goodbye...

2008-04-29T12:25:00.004-04:00

Tonight, at 5:45, I will take my cat to the vet and he will put her down. I called this morning and as soon as the receptionist answered, my eyes filled with tears. I have unsuccessfully tried many times before to make this call. Today was the first time I was able to actually make the appointment because this time, I know in my heart, it is time.

I love my cat. She has been with me for over 15 years and she is a wonderful little beast. I got her at a "valley" period in my life and she helped through that period into a better "peak". She certainly has helped me through many more "valleys" since then. She's a small cat, often mistaken for a kitten. She is wonderful with the kids, loves people, is affectionate and friendly. But, she is old and she has a bladder problem and she is missing the litter box a lot.

While this is certainly not the worst thing I have ever gone through, it's so much more difficult than I would have imagined it to be. Already, there have been a few times when I've had to walk away from Joey because my eyes have been overflowing. And, I have no idea about what I'm going to tell him yet. I have no idea what to say to my 3 year old son about the cat he loves who will no longer be in his life.

The Vet has promised me that it will be a peaceful and humane experience for Poodie, and that I will be able to hold her the entire time. I am glad about that, because as difficult as it will be, it would be worse for me if I couldn't be there to say a final goodbye to my sweet little kitty.

Wow, this is a sad day.

Losing Another Piece...

2008-04-24T19:53:00.009-04:00

While pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby, like any new mom to be, I had dreams about what they would look like and who they would be like. I was thrilled to have both genders and I would imagine me dressing them, the girls in fancy dresses and Ryan in a dapper outfit and taking them out. I also looked forward to their rooms-decorating them and then helping my kids decorate as they got older. I have always believed that a bedroom is a great place for a child to express him/herself and that they should be allowed some creative freedom to decorate their own rooms.

I had decided that since Hannah, Ryan and Abby would probably be small and it would be easier for R and me, that they would share a room after they were born, so I "designed" a room that would be appropriate for both girls and a boy. When I was pregnant with Joey, I spent a considerable amount of time thinking about whether or not I wanted to change the room or keep the theme and color scheme the same. In the end, I decided that I love the room and that I wanted to keep it. I did give away the boy crib bedding I had gotten for Ryan and bought a new one for Joey. I just couldn't bear the thought of another child using Ryan's bedding, even though Ryan had never used it. And, I didn't want Joey to have to "share" his bedding with a memory of what should have been...

While I was pregnant with them, the room got painted, I set up a crib and had furniture, but that was as far as I had gotten before I went on bed-rest. There were no wall decorations, no pictures, no books, no trucks or toys. The room was basically "sterile" and it stayed that way for almost a year and half, until just after Joey was born. It was then that I was able to personalize it for Joey and it is now Joey's room, not Hannah, Ryan and Abby's room.

The other day, Joey told me he wanted a truck bed (his friend has one). I'm not running out to buy him a truck bed tomorrow, but I do recognize that it's just a matter of time before the room is too "baby" for him.

When the day comes that I have to swap the baby colors for big boy ones and pack up all the things in his room that make it "baby-like", a part of my heart will be sad that my little boy is growing up so quickly. Changing out his room will be a symbolic end of his baby-ness.

But, the sadness will run much deeper than that for me. Even though it is Joey's room, the vision and dreams of that room started with Hannah, Ryan and Abby and my visions and dreams for them. So when the room gets changed, I will lose another connection to my three babies who never had the chance to sleep there. In a world where there are so few tangible, touchable connections, it really stings to lose another piece.

I miss the memories that we'll never make.

A Little Sweat Brings A Lot of Clarity

2008-04-11T07:44:00.023-04:00

Laura woke up at 5:15 this morning then after eating, she fell right back asleep. She's not really a snuggle-kid, so I love that she does cuddle right in and falls back asleep after nursing like this. I'll miss that when she's weaned...

Anyway, after listening to her light snoring for a few minutes, I decided to put her back in the crib and take a 6:15 a.m. spinning class. I'm not a morning person so the thought of working out in the morning isn't all that appealing to me, but I was already up. I considered going back to bed for a little bit, and believe me it was tempting, but I knew R would be getting up soon and I was already wide awake, so I decided to go for it.

Midway through the class my mind was blank, my legs were burning, and my towel was soaked. I heard the music and the instructor barking motivational commands, but my brain wasn't really processing either of them. I wasn't thinking about anything, really, until a random thought popped into my head: In the past 6 years, this is the longest I've gone without taking massive doses of infertility drugs or feeling the weight of stress that comes from being a high risk pregnancy.

When I finished the class this morning I was proud of myself. I felt strong and I was ready to enjoy my day. When I was going through infertility treatments or pregnant the hormones and stress stripped me of these feelings, and with each attempt, it became more and more difficult to regain them. I was left feeling robbed of my confidence and it's only now that I'm getting it back.

When I think of all we've been through emotionally, physically and financially, I know closing the door on treatments and pregnancy is the right thing to do for my family and for myself. I'm sure there will be moments of sadness, especially as Laura gets further and further away from being a baby, but today, as I think about my life, I feel happy about where I'm headed and relieved that infertility is no longer part of my future.

Remembering...

2008-04-08T15:27:00.008-04:00

Today, I started to swap my winter for spring clothes in my closet. Hannah, Ryan and Abby's memory boxes sit on a corner shelf, high up in a safe location of my closet and as I went through my stuff, my eyes kept going back to their boxes.

Finally, I put my clothing project aside and did what I knew my heart wanted to do: I took down their boxes, sat on my bed and went through them. It's been a long time since I've done this. I carefully looked at each baby's photo, tracing the outline of their faces with my finger. I took out Abby's hat and turned it inside out to see the tiny spec of skin that remains in it-tangible evidence that she wore this hat. I inhaled deeply to try and draw the scent from Hannah's blanket. I know the scent has long since faded but as I inhaled, my mind could so clearly smell her. It made my eyes fill with tears...

At the bottom of each box, I keep all the letters I've written to them. The top letter of Ryan's box was one I wrote to the three of them, this past Christmas. I won't share all it, but I am going to share some~

Dear Hannah, Ryan and Abby,

Our tree is lit, a fire is burning and soft Christmas music is playing in the background. I have a rare moment to myself right now and I'm feeling so peaceful and happy. This morning was magical: Joey was in awe of the tree and of Santa's arrival and Laura was blissfully unaware of the spirit of Christmas that surrounded us.

However, now in this quiet moment, I think of you. As I feel the warmth of the fire, my heart aches for you. There has not been a single day that I haven't thought about you and I still miss you terribly. Time has worn the edges of my pain, softened them, but thankfully, it has not changed my love for you. It has been 4 years now and you are still very much a part of me and who I am.

As the years go by, I wonder if a time will come when I won't think about you every day. I can not and will not allow myself to hold onto grief and force myself to think about you daily just to keep your memory "alive". It's just not my way, and yet I still do think about you every day-it just sort of happens without any conscious effort. My thoughts are not always filled with the deep sorrow that I had in my early days of recovery~but they are always filled with love......
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There is always love but today there is also deep sorrow.

The Plan Is Working

2008-04-07T21:43:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was my 39th birthday. It's a fairly inconsequential birthday number, except that it now puts me in the final year of my 30's.

When R and I talked about what we wanted to do this day, I told him there was a local 5K race I wanted to run in, as a family. I told him I didn't want him to run beside me (he's much faster than I am) I wanted to do this at my own pace, for myself and by myself, but that at the end of the race, I would love for him and the kids to be there to cheer me on.

However, when we woke up yesterday, the weather was cool and drizzling-not exactly great running weather. We decided to do it anyway but as we pulled up to the race area, the drizzle had turned to rain. R decided it would be better to drop me off and take the kids to breakfast, rather than run with them. I was a little bummed, but I waved goodbye and ran off to get my race number. About a minute before the race was to go off, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see R with the double jogger and the kids all bundled up snug. Joey was blissfully eating Dunkin Donuts Munchkins and Laura sat happy as a lark, just taking it all in.

My face must have looked puzzled because R said "As I was driving away, I realized we should be out here as a family, so we came back to run". Before I could say anything, the race started and we both set off.

It didn't take long before he was well in front of me and fading out of my sight. I stayed focused on my breathing and kept a slow steady pace. Even though I could no longer see R, it was nice to know he was there.

I have run several races since Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, but I always ran them without emotion. This race was different for me-inwardly, I felt different. As I neared the finish line, I saw R, dripping wet in the rain and as I ran past him, he and Joey cheered me on while Laura sat looking out, cooing and smiling. It gave me the courage and the boost I needed to pick up my pace and sprint to the finish line.

I finished the race in 27 minutes and 42 seconds-just under a 9 minute pace. It wasn't even close to a personal best for me but I didn't care. As I crossed that finish line, hearing my son and my husband cheering me on, I was beaming inside and out.

See, what was different for me yesterday wasn't just that my family was there, supporting me. What was different for me yesterday, was that I felt strong.

R.E.M.

2008-04-03T21:32:00.004-04:00

Well, it's been a 3 days now and I hope I'm not jinxing myself by writing this post. After the first night of crying, Laura has slept through the night for the last 2 days. She's woken up between 5:45 and 6:30 a.m. to eat-once she stayed awake and once she fell back asleep afterwards. Either way is fine with me because when she stays awake, I get one on one time with her and when she falls asleep, I get to start my day by actually reading the newspaper.

And, in just 3 short days of getting some real rest, I have become a different person. I am happier, more productive and a better mom and wife.

Sleep-it's a wonderful thing. I'm heading off to get some now...

Cry It Out

2008-04-01T07:51:00.005-04:00

My body craved sleep so badly last night that at 9:30 p.m. I put in ear plugs and went to bed. I briefly heard Joey around 2:00 a.m. and then I briefly heard Laura around 3:30, but I didn't go to either of them.

This morning, Laura woke up around 6:30 and Joey woke up around 6:45. I have no idea what their nights were like, I only know that for the first time in over a year, I didn't stagger out of my bed to comfort them at "oh-dark-30". They are both happy today, so whatever happened last night, it couldn't have been too bad. And, although I still need more sleep, I feel a ton better.

Now I only hope I have the courage and strength to do it again tonight...

ITP

2008-03-26T19:33:00.009-04:00

Idiopathic Thrombocytopinia Purpura or for short, ITP: an autoimmune disease of unknown origin in which your body attacks its own platelets. Platelets are what cause your blood to clot. If/when your platelet count gets too low, you start having excessive bruising and/or bleeding and if it's really low you can have spontaneous internal bleeding.

Never heard of it? Neither had I, but I have this disease. It came on after Laura was born. My CBC at her birth was normal but about 1 1/2 months later, my legs and arms were covered with bruises. At first I chalked it up to post-pregnancy hormones and sleep-deprivation clumsiness, but as the bruising got worse, it became harder to write them off as nothing. Finally, I went to my PCP for a full physical and my CBC came back showing very low platelets. I was referred to a hematologist.

I won't bore you with the battery of tests that were run, but there were many. For the last 7 months, I've had blood drawn weekly to check my counts. Last week, I met with my (current) hematologist and because things haven't improved the way he hoped, he wanted to schedule me for a bone marrow biopsy. This is now forcing the issue for me to find a new hematologist who accepts my new insurance because if I don't, the procedure will cost about $2000.00 and that doesn't include the pathology. If I find a doctor in my network, it's a $20.00 co-pay. Sigh...I guess it's time to make some phone calls.

Anyway, every month I sit in the waiting room and glance at the people around me. I know they are dealing with horrible diseases, mostly cancers, and that I should be grateful that my diagnosis is ITP. When we were going through the tests, I couldn't help but worry about some of the diseases and how they would affect my family if I had them. I thought about what it would mean for them to have a sick Mom and wife. Someone who may require hospitalizations, chemotherapy, full time care. I also went to "the dark place" and thought about dying and what it would mean for R and my children to grow up without me. So on many levels, I am grateful that my diagnosis is ITP. But it's still hard. Every week, I drag Joey and Laura to the lab and try as I may to distract him, Joey watches the phlebotomist drawing my blood. He used to have lots of questions, but now he's pretty used to it. I find that, in and of itself, disturbing.

ITP itself is not life-threatening, however, it can be life altering. Things that I always took for granted may now be high risk activities for me: riding my bike, ice skating, playing tennis, skiing, even driving. When my count is low, if I fall or get hit in the head, well, these things could cause a brain bleed. If I need significant dental work or surgery, and my counts are too low, I may need blood transfusions beforehand to make sure my blood will clot so I won't bleed to death. These are extreme examples, but there have been times when my counts have been so low that these are realistic examples for me. It's not all doom and gloom, as there have been other times when my counts have been near normal and even in normal range.

I'm trying to remain positive about it all, but it's hard. There is nothing I can do to change this. Eating better, exersizing more, sleeping more or less-none of these things have any influence on platelet counts. It's very unsettling and somewhat frustrating.

But more than that, I'm mad at my body because I feel like it's failing me, once again.

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go....well, sort of anyway!

2008-03-21T15:15:00.010-04:00

Laura's been in PT for gross motor skill delays since she was 4 months old. Well, 8 months came and went and she was showing no interest in getting up on all fours and rocking, let alone crawling. Joey started getting up on all fours and rocking by 4 1/2 months, then right around 9 months, he started crawling. I just assumed all kids would "practice" before learning to crawl, since that was how Joey did it. When Laura wasn't even trying by 9 months, I started getting really worried.

Well, yesterday she got up on all fours, rocked for a moment, moved her arms and legs into a "crawl" and advanced forward. Then she flopped down. She looked at me with the most "I'm so proud of me" grin on her face--I could have just gobbled her up! However, before I had a chance to do anything but smile back, she turned away, re-focused, got up, rocked and had some forward momentum before flopped again. This time, instead of trying again, she got distracted by some fascinating fuzzy on the floor and she moved onto picking that up and putting it into her mouth...

It seems Laura is going to do things her own way at her own pace, which is a good thing. I'm really proud of her and, honestly, relieved that she's nearing this milestone. It won't be long now before she's off and running.

Speaking of running, yesterday I ran for 15 minutes, then walked for 15 minutes PAIN FREE. The jog was slow and ugly, but nonetheless, it was a jog and I'm still pain free today! I'm hopeful that it won't be long before I'm off and running, too.

So, it was a momentous day yesterday for me and my daughter as we both made great strides in moving forward...

The Funk and The Plan

2008-03-18T10:38:00.010-04:00

Several times over the past few months, I made lists to help me get out of The Funk, but I realize now that those lists set me up for failure. They were too detailed and put too much pressure on me. My goals were too specific: drop 1 lbs/week, walk every day, do laundry on Mondays, etc. and so when life threw me a curve ball (which, as a Mom with two children, is bound to happen just about every day) and I couldn't accomplish a goal for a specific day, I felt like I had failed. This just perpetuated The Funk.

Now I'm in action mode, again. However, this time The Plan is general. Simple. Basic. It looks like this:

*Start each morning off by asking Hannah, Ryan and Abby to give me strength to face whatever challenges come my way today.

*Stop thinking ahead of myself. Don't waste energy today worrying about what's going to happen tomorrow because inevitably, what I'm worried about isn't what's going to happen anyway.

*Find some projects (that are not cleaning related)

I'm not new to The Plan. It was a tool given to me by my shrink as I dug my way out of the depths of grief after Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, so I thought I would resurrect it and give it a shot now.

Today is day two and while I don't feel magically cured of The Funk, I can tell that my step is a little lighter. And that's a great start.

There's nothing like an old friend to make me take a new look~at myself

2008-03-17T14:33:00.012-04:00

I don't dye my hair (although with the grays that are sprouting lately, I'll probably start, soon). I don't spend a lot of money on trendy clothes. I don't often get manicures or pedicures. In fact, the last pedicure I had was the morning of Laura's birth. She's now 9 1/2 months old and sadly, there are still remnants of that polish on the big toe of my right foot. While I like these things, I don't think about them often. I guess that means they aren't really that important to me.

Now, I hope I'm not giving off the impression that I don't take care of myself or care about how I look, because I do. I usually dress in flattering but comfortable outfits and I almost always wear a scent. If R and I are going out, or I'm going out with friends, I enjoy getting dressed up, but my style is much more "my own" than what's "in".

An old roommate called this weekend. She's going to be in town for a few days with her kids and wanted to get together on Tuesday. We haven't seen each other in over a year, so it would be really nice to catch up.

My friend is very chic and stylish. She always sports the "in" hairstyle and wears the latest fashion trends. She's the type who never looks "made up" but always looks like she just stepped out of a salon. When I lived with her, it would baffle me how she could roll out of bed and manage to look good.

So, what was the first thing I did after hanging up the phone? I looked in the mirror and realized I haven't had a haircut in about 3 1/2 months. I'm long overdue, but all the sudden it became an emergency, so I pulled out the phone book to find a place that was open on a Monday. No such luck. Then I started to fret...would I actually be able to get in somewhere before Tuesday morning? I left the phone book on the counter with plans to call places first thing in morning.

After my coffee this morning, I went to get Joey out of bed. He was sleeping unsually late today. When I looked down at my son, I saw that his eyes are weeping, he's feverish and he started coughing. I instantly knew that I wouldn't be seeing my friend this week. I knew the only person I would likely be seeing this week is my son's pediatrician. I also knew that he wouldn't even think twice if I showed up at his office with a ponytail.

So, as Joey ate his breakfast, I put the phone book away. However, I did tell myself that perhaps I'll call tomarow because it's time to get myself a proper haircut...

...Losing My Religion....(R.E.M.)

2008-03-14T09:39:00.015-04:00

In the aftermath of Hannah, Ryan and Abby’s' deaths, my relationship with God and my religion fell apart. I struggled to find answers to questions that had no answers and I blamed God-the all powerful, all mighty God that I grew up with-for not letting my babies live. I was lost, sad, angry and confused. I needed to believe in something because I couldn't believe that Hannah, Ryan and Abby were spiritually nothing. That thought was too painful to even consider. And so, I chose to believe that Hannah, Ryan and Abby were with me, spiritually and if I asked them for strength, they would guide me. It felt all wrong that I should be asking them to give me strength. After all, I am their Mom and isn't it a mom's responsibility to guide her children? I felt enormous guilt at having failed them in life and then again in death, but I needed to believe in their spirits and their ability to guide me through my grief to the other side. And I was too angry at God for failing me to even consider turning to Him for comfort.

For a long time, I grappled with the notion of God and what He means to me. I was tired of hearing all the well-meaning comments about God not giving me more than I could handle, or how He needed more angels in heaven. These comments only made me feel angry at the people who said them and the God they believed had the power to do this to me and my babies and to all the other women whom I was meeting who had lost (a) child/ren.

With time, it became clear to me that I could no longer believe in an all controlling God who had the power to decide who will live and who will die. As that belief faded from my core, I let go of the anger I had once felt at God for Hannah, Ryan and Abby’s' deaths. I was able to stop blaming Him because I truly no longer believed that He did this to me or to them. I was then able to pray to Him for the one thing I believe He can give me: strength.

I am fairly comfortable with my relationship with God now. The problem is, I'm not comfortable with religion. We had Joey baptized, but through the ceremony, I felt very uneasy. I felt like a fake and a liar standing at the alter committing to raise my son in a religion that doesn't feel right to me. At my darkest time of need, I felt that the teachings of my religions failed me. Actually, they did worse than fail me, they made me feel like their deaths were my fault, as if I didn't pray hard enough, long enough or strong enough to justify saving them. But, at the same time, we held Hannah, Ryan and Abby's funeral in this very same church and I found enormous comfort in familiarlity of the service and thereadings. And so while my relationship with God is strong, I'm still very confused at the aspect of how religion fits into my life.

I want to take Joey and Laura to Church, but I haven't found one that I feel comfortable in, myself. I'm not so bold as to think that this is something I can teach them on my own, without guidance or support, and I do believe that a lot of what we learn in a formal religious setting can reinforce the values and morals that we teach at home. Of course, the important thing is that I want them to have a relationship with God and an understanding of a larger purpose...

I’m just not sure how to go about it.

The Promise of Daffs...

2008-03-09T09:20:00.010-04:00

I love the seasons, all of them. But the warmth, beauty and sunlight of Spring always makes me a cheerier person.

In celebration of the coming of Spring, every March, R and I have a dinner date and go to the flower show. This year, he couldn't make it, so I decided to go during the day, with the kids. I knew Laura would be fine, as she just loves to look at new things and faces, but I was a bit worried about how Joey would do because at almost 3, he's not keen on being buckled into the stroller for long periods of time. However, I figured we'd give it a shot and worse case, we leave early (or they throw us out!).

With Laura strapped into the Baby Bjorn and Joey holding my hand, I bought our tickets. We entered the convention center and were immediately greeted by a huge showing of championship daffodils. The display was breathtaking and I instantly felt lifted. I love daffodils because even though they don't smell, they are a sturdy, bright and happy flower.

We easily traversed through the displays, walking over bridges and through "houses" all of us soaking in the different sights, sounds, colors and smells of "Spring". There were a few minor mishaps-like when I took my eyes off Joey for one minute only to find him climbing the E.P. Henry Paver display, thinking it was his own personal jungle-gym. Or when he walked up the "banks" of a pond to get a closer look at the fish swimming. But for the most part, we all did really well.

When we left, it was cold and raining, but the spirit in my heart was lighter. I know I'm putting a lot of weight on Spring this year-I want it to help pull me out of my funk and move me into a better light-and if our excursion to the Flower Show was any indication of what the Spring will do for my mood, I know I'll be okay.

Layer Upon Layer

2008-03-07T07:52:00.008-05:00

Since Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, my resources for dealing with life's bumps keep getting significantly lower. I feel like layer upon layer of struggles have built up over the last few years, and now any time something is even slightly out of alignment in my world, I have a hard time dealing with it.

The most recent thing is a change in our health insurance. None of our doctors accept this new insurance. Not my hematologist, not my daughter's ENT, Audiologist or Physical Therapist, not my children’s pediatrician, my primary care doctor or my foot doctor. Not even our dentist!

And while I know we'll work something out, the very thought of having to deal with all this sends me into a tailspin. 5 years ago, I would have sat down and tackled this problem head on. Now I don't even know where to begin-it completely overwhelms me to even think about it.

And this makes me feel incompetent. And that's an awful feeling.

Thanks Jibboo

2008-03-05T14:29:00.016-05:00

When I imagined having children, one thing I often pictured was reading stories at bedtime. I love reading and want to pass this passion onto my children, so I introduced books to both of them as soon as they came home from the hospital.

Laura likes texture books-the kind where she can feel a rabbit's fur or touch an elephant's ear. Her favorites, however, are those that she can cram in her mouth and chew. We don’t do much reading, per se, but she's getting the exposure...

Joey loves his books and through them, he is not only learning new words and ideas, but also the art of negotiation. At night, I will say "Okay Joey, pick out two stories to read before bed" and he inevitably says "No Mommy, 4 stories!" We usually compromise at three, but I admire his efforts in trying to squeeze one more out of me.

As is typical with a toddler, he tends to read the same books over and over again. I readily admit that I'm bored with them long before he is, but I try to muster enthusiasm as I read "Make Way for Ducklings" by Robert McCloskey, for the 7th night in a row.

His current passion is Dr. Seuess's "Oh The Thinks You Can Think". When we get to the page "And what would you do if you met a Jibboo?" we pause and talk about all the things we would do.

We've come up with many, but singing to the Jibboo quickly became the favorite. I'm sure this is because he's realized that by making up 3 or 4 verses of song, he can delay his bedtime by a precious 5 minutes, but I don't mind. At the end of the day, there is nothing sweeter than hearing my son's high pitched voice belting out songs to the imaginary Jibboo.

It makes bedtime stories so much better than I ever imagined they would be. So today, I say a heartfelt thank you to Dr. Seuess...

Jelouse of the Hampster...

2008-03-02T16:26:00.028-05:00

For years, I was a runner. Then, when I went through In-Vitro Fertilization, I wasn't allowed to run. Running helps me feel strong and balanced while IVF made me feel crazed and scattered, so it was difficult to stop. However, when I got pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby I was so happy that I didn't care about having to give it up. Everything was going to be worth it and I knew that after the babies were born, I would get back into running again. My energy was focused on doing whatever I could to bring these babies into healthy. I even saw a nutrionist to make sure I was eating all the right things, but it was a triplet pregnancy and so in a short period of time, I gained a lot of weight. One day, my plantar facsia couldn't take it anymore and I developed chronic heal pain.

After Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, I was a mess physically and emotionally. All I wanted to do was run that pain and anger away. After my 6 week post-partum checkup, I came home, laced up and went out for a jog. I didn't get far before I was crippled with pain. I was so bitter that the one thing that might bring me some solace was "taken" from me.

Somehow, in the midst of my grief, I found the wherewithall to call a foot doctor and start physical therapy and ultrasound treatments. I tried cortisone shots and orthodics. Eventually, I was pain-free, but by then, I was back in IVF and wasn't allowed to run anyway.

In the years that followed, I had too many IVF treatments and 2 more stressful pregnancies. During the pregnancies, I wasn't allowd to exersize at all, and so instead, I ate my way through them. I gained 60+ pounds both times, and both times, my foot pain returned. My doctors attributed it to the weight gain and thought that once I was back at a healthy weight, my pain would subside.

Since Laura was born, I have strictly dieted so I could lose weight and fix this problem once and for all. I'm 7 pounds away from my pre-infertility weight, but because of my pain, I can't run. I'm thin but not in shape and I don't feel strong. I am ready to reclaim my passion for running, but no matter what I do, I can't eleviate my pain it's very frustrating. This has been going on for almost 4 1/2 years now.

I feel like a hampster on the wheel: I'm going in circles but not getting anywhere. But, unlike the hampster, I'm not running...

Take Me Back

2008-02-29T21:35:00.007-05:00

I did something today that I haven't done in a long time~I viewed a website of someone whose triplets were born and then died. These triplets were born at 23+ weeks gestation. Two lived for a week, the third one lived for several months, and then he died.

I looked at this site because I wanted to see these small babies. I wanted to see their hands and feet, their heads with peach fuzz hair. I wanted to see them because they were the same gestational age as my Hannah, Ryan and Abby and therefore, looking at their pictures took me back, helped me remember how small my own babies were and what it felt like to hold them.

As I clicked through site, I noticed that first there were three babies, then two, then one. And even though I knew that he died, as I went through the photos, I found myself willing the third child to live. I cried when I saw his tiny hand wrapped around his Mom's finger. I cried at the pictures where his eyes opened for the first time. I cried when I saw him doing Kangeroo Care.

And then I cried when I saw the picture of him with his Dad-one look at Dad's face and I knew the child had died. I have never met this man, but I know his expression intimately because I have seen it before. For me, it was almost as devastating as Hannah, Ryan and Abby deaths, to see that look on my own husband's face.

So today, I cried. I cried for this family that I do not know. And I cried for my own family and the children that I gave birth too that I will never get to see grow.

Bubble Magic

2008-02-27T13:17:00.010-05:00

There is a true comraderie between my brother, my sister and me that comes from having shared the expereinces of growing up together.

After Joey was born, I knew we would try again, partly for ourselves, but also because I wanted him to expereince a sibling relationship. I wanted him to have a brother or sister to grow up with, to talk to and to grow into adulthood with.

Of course, when Laura was born, Joey was just two years old, so I didn't expect this bond to be forged right away. In the first few days of her being home, he did express interest by asking "What's the baby doing?" but as the days moved to weeks, his interest waned and the sentiment became more like 'What's the baby still doing here?" After a few more months, she became an avenue for him to exersize his newfound independence and bossiness: "the baby can't play with this toy, it's mine" or "She's too little for this toy so I'm going to take it".

But last night, I caught a glimpse of the friendship that I hope will come. Laura was in her jumper-roo and Joey was blowing bubbles. Not so much out of friendliness, but more out of curiosity to see what would happen, Joey got into her face and started blowing bubbles at her. My first instinct was to tell him to back away a little so he wouldn't blow bubble stuff all over her, but I held my tongue.

Suddenly, Laura started cracking up, which led Joey into a frenzy--jumping up and down and yelling, "She likes it! She likes it and she thinks I'm funny. I'm making her laugh!

And for me, all I could do was smile as I realized this was the first positive back and forth exchange between my children. Between siblings.

The High Road

2008-02-26T13:18:00.010-05:00

Being one of three children myself, I had always thought I would have 3 children of my own. Once the initial shock of being pregnant with triplets wore off, I was thrilled that I would accomplish this desire all at one time. Unfortunately, that wasn't to be for me or for them...

For months now, my brother and sister-in-law have gone back and forth about having another baby. She wants one, he does not. They have a beautiful and very spirited 3 1/2 year old girl and a wonderfully cute and funny 18 month old boy. I love these children emensly.

My brother is ready to move into the next phase of life. He is ready to put the sleepless nights of babyhood behind them and move into the active lifestyle that an almost 4 year old and an 18 month old invite you to enter. And, he believes they have been lucky so far and he does not want to push that luck.

She has a longing that she can't explain. Her rational brain knows that two is a good number for their family, but her emotions are tugging at her maternal instinct and as her little boy leaves babyhood, those strings are pulling tighter around her heart and the yearning for one more deepens.

They have both talked to me about it because it's something, as a couple, they struggle with. Especially my sister in law. And yet, I wish she wouldn't talk to me because it sparks a strong internal conflict in me. For completely selfish reasons, I do not want them to have another baby. I was supposed to be the one raising three children and I know that it will never happen for me. And as selfish as it is, I can't help it...the idea of them becoming a family of five is painful for me.

And so, as I sit and listen to my sister in law talk, as she questions outloud what she should do, a little voice inside my head says, "Just tell her, tell her you agree with your brother. Tell her you think two is a good number for their family".

But I never say it. Instead I offer the one thing I know will help her figure it out: an ear and an opinion that I keep silent.

Elusive Dreams...

2008-02-25T11:41:00.005-05:00

My husband and I will be celebrating our 10 year wedding anniversary this fall. We recently booked a resort vacation for just the two of us, to celebrate. It will be the first vacation we've taken alone since 2004 and even though we're not leaving until November 1st, we're both really excited~

R is looking forward to the beach, scuba lessons, the tennis clinics, golf and the fine dining that are included in our package.

I'm excited about those things, too. But more so, I'm excited at the prospect of a full week of uninterrupted sleep! Honestly, that thought, well, it just makes me giddy.

See, Laura is 9 months old now but still doesn't sleep through the night. With the exception of a few cheerios here and there, she's exclusively nursing. We introduced solids at 6 months and she loved them, but by 7 months, she was boycotting them completely. My pediatrician said to try every few days but realize it may be a texture thing. So, we tried every few days, but she would just spit them out or clamp her mouth shut and cry. Knowing that I have a life-time of battles ahead of me with this child, I decided fairly quickly that this one wasn't worth the effort. So, I packed up the baby food and gave it away.

She's happier. I'm happier.

However, she's now back to full time nursing, which means she usually wakes at night at least once to eat. This wake-up call tends to happen just as I'm falling into that wonderful, deep, coma like sleep. I’ve finally drifted into a dreamlike state and then suddenly, I'm jolted awake by the desperate cries of my hungry little lamb. I've thought about letting her cry, but then I end up laying there, wondering if my baby is withering away to nothing, from starvation. Of course, if you saw her chubby little thighs, you would understand how ridiculous this concern is, but hey it is the middle of the night, so I don't claim to be thinking clearly…

Anyway, we have her 9 month checkup this Friday. I’m hoping we get the "green light" for pancakes and other easy to eat solids. Somehow, I think this is going magically cure her late night snacking and she will start to sleep 10 hours straight. We'll see.

Perhaps I'm just chasing a crazy dream…

Who is this girl and what did you do with my April?

2008-02-24T14:59:00.000-05:00

I journal write. The unfortunate thing about my style is that I tend to write during times of crisis and rarely when life is good. It's not a great way to journal because if anyone were to ever read them after I die (like my kids), it would seem that my life was completely dark and painful without any laughter and fun. And that's simply not true.

Anyway, in back-reading some of my earlier journals, it's interesting for me to see how strong and optimistic I was. Even through some really difficult times, I would see positives. Again and again during the first few rounds of In-Vitro that we did, I would write about the challenges of the treatments, but I always ended with how lucky we were to have this option. The year that Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, the darkest year of my life, I took a lot of time to write about my pain, but I also found myself writing many thankful passages for the people in my life who helped carry me through this period, the outpouring of love that I received and the amount of strength I found within myself to move forward.

Imagine, then, my surprise as I continued to browse through the next few years to the present, only to discover that much of my "thankfulness" has gone along the wayside and my strength and upbeat attitude has begun to wane, rather significantly.

I know the past 6 years have thrown me blow after blow. What I didn't realize was how much my strength has slowly burned down; faded away. I know that I am strong. The problem is that I no longer feel strong. And, perhaps more upsetting for me is that while I am grateful for so many things in my life, I've just realized that I'm not living very graciously right now.

So, the question I need to ask myself is not "How did I let this happen?" but rather, "How do I change this?" I know I can't go back. I don't think we can ever go back, but I do know that I can look deep within myself again and find that strength to move forward into a better light.

Politics Aside

2008-02-23T10:00:00.000-05:00

I was watching the Obama/Clinton debate the other night and the final question was one that surprised me. (Paraphrasing here) They were asked to define their most challenging personal crisis.

I was actually unsure of the relevence of that question or what they hoped to achieve by asking it. I thought both candidates did a fine job answering the question-Obama talking about his father leaving and how it forced him to learn to bring people together. Hilary joking about the "trials" of her life, but then bringing it back to the challenges of the American people. They both handled the situation with grace. I wondered if the candidates had copies of the questions prior to the debate? Did they know that the final question would be about their most challenging personal crisis?

I can only picture myself in a similar situation (not that I have any interest in running for president, mind you) and being asked the same question. If I wasn't prepared for it, if I didn't know beforehand, I think I would be thrown by the question. I may even get tears as I choked out "It was during the aftermath from when Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born. And died"

Always, in prepping for interviews, debates, etc. you are taught to take your "negative" and spin it into a positive. I was thinking about how one spins a "positive" on having your children die.

But when I am honest with myself, the truth is, positive things have come to my life because Hannah, Ryan and Abby died. Both of my living children were concieved only because Hannah, Ryan and Abby died. I never would have gone through IVF again had my triplets lived. So, isn't having Joey and Laura the greatest positive that could come from such devastation?

This year will be the 5 year annivesary of Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births and deaths. I can't believe it's already been five years~I have already been thinking about how I can honor them and this monumental annivesary. I was thinking of doing a big road race, perhaps a 1/2 marathon or a marathon with a large fundraiser for the March of Dimes. Or, doing a Teddy Bear Drive for the local hospital. But these things don't feel right for me. It's not even March (their birthdays are in October) and already I have been putting a lot of pressure on myself to do something big to honor them.

Perhaps the best way to honor them is quietly, privately. Perhaps it is to simply love them and look for all the good that their short lives have brought into my life.

The Journey Within and Without

One Big Giant Boo Hoo

Time...

Redshirting...

Hot Chocolate and Some Love

Lumps

I Just Don't Understand...

Untitled

TC

10/29/09 The Present

~~Ryan~~

The Gift

Hannah Rose born 10/24 and died 10/25

Why I'm going to hate homework

Pumpkin Season...

Good Enough

Mood Swing

3 Little Birds

The Map. I'm All Over It.

Choices

A Bad Case of the Jitters

longing...

So Long Ago...

Second Chances

IPF

Going Shopping...

Wait and See...

The Perfect Storm

Power of Prayer

The Yuletide Begins

Grief and Depression

What a Difference Time Does Make

Saying Goodbye

Getting Away

I'm Sorry Abby

~Remembering Ryan~

~Honoring Hannah~

10/23/03

The Wonderment of Joe

Mounting the Balence Beam...

Life Goes On...

The First Time...

10 Years...

Letting Go...

Made My Decsion

What To Do?

I Don't Want To, Again. I Don't Think...

Getting A Taste of the Teen Years...

I Miss The Crib!!

Milestones!

Rainbow Baby

Is It Because 5 Years Is Right Around The Corner?

How Old Are They?

Remembering...

FREEDOM!

Just as Guilty

Moments of Quiet Thoughts

Birthday Mania...

Ear Tubes

I'm A Big Boy Now!

Who Do You Miss The Most?

petty, petty, petty...

In One Week....

Saying Goodbye...

Losing Another Piece...

A Little Sweat Brings A Lot of Clarity

Remembering...

The Plan Is Working

R.E.M.

Cry It Out

ITP

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go....well, sort of anyway!

The Funk and The Plan

There's nothing like an old friend to make me take a new look~at myself

...Losing My Religion....(R.E.M.)

The Promise of Daffs...

Layer Upon Layer

Thanks Jibboo

Jelouse of the Hampster...

Take Me Back

Ryan