Gender Wars

I’m not going to say that I “hoped” or “wanted” this baby to be a boy. Because, well, we don’t do that, right? But I will say that I felt that this baby was a boy, and that that felt completely right.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I would have wanted thought that this baby was a boy quite so much if it weren’t for the twins. I only know girls. I come from a family full of girls. I know dresses and bows, and I cherish the relationship that I have with my mother and that she has with her mother. I want that.

But then the twins came. And I had to wrap my mind around the idea of a little boy, and play out in my head what life as the mother of a son would look like. And I liked it :) (I particularly the idea of a "big brother" to help look out for his "little sister" - and me, too!)

I once heard that if a woman, with the same man, conceives two children of the same gender, then it is, like, 90% likely that the next child will be of the same gender. Probably not true, but there you have it.

This never crossed my mind before the twins. A house full of all boys or all girls is normal to me. But then – one of each. Okay – now what?

When we found out that this baby is a boy I’ll admit that I was disappointed, but disappointed only in the sense that I would have been if this baby were a girl! – Disappointed that there isn’t one of the other, too.

See, I know that this baby will not take the twins’ place. He will not take his big brother’s place. They were unique, special individuals that I will love and miss until the day that I die. But this baby will – I hope and pray with all my might – give me the opportunity to raise a son. And the thought of that leaves me breathless in anticipation. (And, okay, I'm also breathless with anxiety, but whatever!)

And so I feel guilty for even thinking down the road. And, again, had it not been for our twins I don’t think I would even wonder what’s next. But now, we had a little girl in our family. And now there’s a hole – a hole separate and apart from that left by Baby Girl B – a hole left by the absence of an opportunity to raise a girl. An opportunity that we had, but that was taken away.

And it hurts my heart to even say, but I’ll be honest with you. . . the other night, when we were watching the twins’ ultrasound video. . . I couldn’t help it, the past and the future just collided. And all I could do was cry into B’s shoulder, “What if she’s the only little girl we ever have?!”

What if, indeed? Well, if we're blessed to have living, breathing child(ren), I will wake up every morning thankful beyond words. I will love and cherish my boy(s). But the chance to raise a girl - the chance that slipped through my fingers, will be gone. . .

Not As I Expected

I had a post all ready to go about milestones. And about how the passage of such milestones, while it certainly doesn’t remove the pain, it does seem to blunt the sharpness of it. Because, you see, that’s how I expected to feel after the twins’ birthday. I expected it to be similar to their due date, which brought with it a heavy sense of resignation. And resignation, while certainly a weight I’d rather not carry, is somehow more bearable than the sharp stab of a newly realized pain.

But that isn’t what happened. I’m not going to say things are “worse.” But there is a new, sharp pain – caused by something that I knew before but just now, I think, really fully realized; something with which I am now living and trying to process.

See, I think of them all the time. But on their birthday, more than ever before, I pictured them. I pictured them in their matching high chairs, colorful bibs tied around their necks. Silly birthday hats on their little heads. A cupcake in front of each and icing all over their faces. In my mind, I couldn’t quite see their faces, their features. . . but I pictured Baby Boy A with blond hair. And Baby Girl B, hers was just a little darker. And I could feel the smiles and hear the suqeels of laughter.

I hadn't realized it, but up until now my thoughts and images of them had been stagnant – our babies. Sure, in my mind I suppose they filled out a little. But my thoughts still were of cribs and blankets and late night feedings. And these new pictures brought with them a new pain, as I fully realized in such an in-my-face way just all on which we’re missing out. They wouldn’t be our babies any more. They’d be our little man and our little woman. They’d be marching their way toward two! Next year I’m going to have to picture – I don’t even know. What do 2 year olds do?

I know it seems obvious; sounds elementary. Surely this is something that occured to me before. Apparently not. These pictures in my head caused a fresh stab as I realized, either for the first time or on a deeper level, that we will never know them. We will never watch them learn and grown and realize all they were meant to be.

It doesn't make sense, I'm sure, but I'm having to learn a new way of thinking about them. And somehow it hurts more to miss 1 year olds, or to think about missing 2 year olds, than it does to miss "our babies." Accepting the passage of time. . . Moving forward without them here. . . it's a new, sharp pain that I wasn't expecting.
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So how did we end up spending our day? Not in any exciting way, but it really turned out just fine. I stayed in, claiming that I was working from home. But really I was writing my blog, reading yours, and completely absorbing your sweet comments. I laid in bed with my laptop and allowed the tears to run down my face without regard for wiping them away. It was just what I needed. If you have a chance, scroll through and read the 8th or 9th comment from my husband (Mr. Bluebird) - he thanks you too :)

B came home and we, and the pups, went to the park for lunch with our trees. We hadn't been there in way too long. The trees are so young still that I thought the leaves would have just dried and fallen; what a pleasant surprise to find a few bright red ones still remaining. We came back and allowed ourselves to just lay around and be with out thoughts of them. I didn't really want to think back to one year ago because it was such a sorrowful, scary time. But it was also the birthday of my firstborns. So I thought of them.

We went for milkshakes, rather than having a cake, because I insisted while pregnant with them that they really super loved milkshakes :) B played the song he wrote for them. And, for the first time ever, we watched the video of their last ultrasound.

I wrote to them. I told them how honored and humbled I am to even dream of the pictures in my head; to think that it almost happened. And to call myself their mom.

And we called it a day.

As always, thank you for helping carry me through it.

Disbelief

I feel a weight, all around me. It pushes me to the ground and holds me in place. It’s grief, sure. Pain, of course. But more than anything, I think, if I can put my finger on it. . . it’s disbelief. As I watch the clock tick past 8:19, "Happy birthday Baby Boy." As I wait for 9:44. . .

Overwhelming disbelief.

Disbelief that they would have been one year old today.
Disbelief that we’ve lived so long without them.
Disbelief that we were ever so blessed as to even dream of living with them at all!
Disbelief over what our lives could have been on this day.
Disbelief over what our lives are instead.

Does a year feel like forever? Or just the tick of a clock? Does it feel like another lifetime? Or just a moment ago? It’s all just so very surreal.

I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to do. What I should do. What I want to do. Nothing feels right. There is no rule book for this.

I said to B the other day: “We should have a birthday party.” He responded: “I like that idea, I hadn’t thought of it! A party, huh?” “Well,” I replied, “Not a real party, of course. And no cake. Because there’s no one here to blow out the candles. But we should do something.”

Disbelief that we're even having this conversation; that I'm actually trying to figure out how to have a not-real party.

Sometimes I feel silly for missing something I never really had. For loving something that, some would say, I never really knew. Oh, but I did. How I loved those sweet babies. They are a part of our family – part of our family that should be here with us now.

Disbelief that such beautiful, strong, perfect babes aren’t here blowing out their birthday candles. Disbelief that there will be no squeels of laughter or icing-smeared faces on this day.

They will forever be a part of me. They will forever be a part of B. And their story will forever be a part of our relationship.

Disbelief that my hope now is simply to be able to tell their brother about them one day.

My how things change.

Through it all, I don’t think I have ever said, “Why me?” But I have wondered simply – “Why?” Or maybe just, "Really?!?" It's just so strange.

And today, as I smile, as I cry, as I remember, as I mourn, as I relive dreams . . I shake my head in disbelief.

Big Day

Today I am 19 weeks 5 days pregnant. Our twins were born at 19 weeks 4 days. Today I am officially the most pregnant I’ve ever been. This is very strange, my friends! I’m in uncharted territory.

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of my diagnosis with HELLP Syndrome. November 10, 2008, B and I were at home fixing steak fajitas, completely unaware that our world was about to be shattered. . . The events of that day and night are so crystal clear to me. Perhaps it’s just in contrast with the magnesium- and sorrow-induced haze of the subsequent days, who knows? I won’t bore you with the details now, but if you like to go back to this post, I’d love to share the story with you.

Yesterday also marked the one-year anniversary of learning that our daughter, Baby B, most likely had a heart defect known as HLHS. We were so focused on and concerned about that, that it never occurred to us to be worried about my OB’s seemingly offhanded remark that I had protein in my urine.

Which brings me back around to today. Today, we learned that we have been blessed with another boy. A perfect, seemingly healthy boy. One with all four chambers of his heart exactly as they should be :)

And me? No protein so far.

Thank you, as always, for your continued support. Today, 19 weeks 5 days, is not a big day in the growth of this little one, I know that. It’s not 24 weeks or 28 weeks. But it was a big day to me. To me, each day is now one more than what we had with A and B. It’s a tearful, painful realization. But it’s also knowledge that, with each day, we’re taking one more step in the right direction.

Say It With A Song

I had to make about an hour drive for work first thing this morning. While that is definitely not my favorite time of day, I did find the alone time to be oddly satisfying. I even – gasp! – dug out my ipod and decided to listen to music! Those who have been reading for a while know that I have been anti-music since losing the twins, claiming that it makes me feel too much.

Well, this morning I felt like I a) wanted to sing at the top of my lungs, and b) wanted to go old school. Soooo, I’m rather ashamed to say, I set my ipod to play by artist and went to the Dixie Chicks. (I know, I know!, Don’t judge! I was totally reliving my high school here :))

Well, we (and by “we” I mean my ipod and I) started out with one or two rousing, older numbers the names of which I am not, in fact, willing to confess here. Then I got brave. . .

First I stumbled upon one that made me think of all the recent drama with our families (although a little strongly worded, even for stubborn ole' me!):

Forgive, sounds good/ Forget, I'm not sure I could/ They say time heals everything/ But I'm still waiting *** I'm not ready to make nice/ I'm not ready to back down/ I'm still mad as hell and I don't have time/ To go round and round and round/ It's too late to make it right/ I probably wouldn't if I could/ Cause I'm mad as hell, can't bring myself/ To do what it is you think I should.

Then came one which is actually about a couple struggling with their relationship, but the sweet chorus made me think of my B anyway:

(Baby, hold on)/ Let's start this over/ (Baby, hold on)/ We're not much older now/ (Baby, hold on)/ If you still see what I see/ Keep holding on/ Hold on to me

Or this one:

I believe in love, I believe in love/ Love that's real, love that's strong/ Love that lives on and on/ Yes I believe in love

I replayed “Not ready to make nice”, just because, man, was I a rock star on that one! (If B’s reading this he just spit out his coffee! I can’t carry a tune to save my life!)

Then, by the time the return trip home was almost over, I was brave enough to click over to “So Hard.” Written by sisters Martie and Emily about their struggles with infertility, it’s a song I’ve purposefully avoided for, oh, three years now:

It felt like a given/ Something a woman's born to do/ A natural ambition/ To see a reflection of me and you/ And I'd feel so guilty/ If that was a gift I couldn't give/ And could you be happy/ If life wasn't how we pictured it? ***It's so hard when it doesn't come easy/ It's so hard when it doesn't come fast/ It's so hard when it doesn't come easy/ So hard.

Finally, I returned to the rousing, oldest-of-the-old-school numbers as I pulled in to the parking garage, just to end my set on a high note ;)

Just in case you were wondering how I spent my morning!


Edited to clarify: I was wrong, it wasn't high school, it was college - COLLEGE!!!

Changes

Summer to fall.
Fall to winter.
Daylight savings time.
It seems to be the season for change.
Some changes are obvious; others, not so much. . .

For example:

The other day – I laid in bed and wrote a letter to our babies. I realized that it was the first time I'd done so since June. And I seem to be writing here more and more. But in the last few days and weeks -- I feel like I’m speaking to people IRL less and less.
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Gestationally, a year ago Saturday was the day we put together the babies’ cribs. We found just the right spots for them in the room and arranged all the other furniture around them. The other furniture’s still there, exactly where we left it. But where we so carefully placed the cribs – there is now nothing but two gaping holes.
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When people ask, “Are you excited?” I find myself answering “no” more often than I used to. Perhaps I’m becoming more truthful. Perhaps I’m just less excited than I was.
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The one thing (well, two things) that I was looking forward to changing – my itty bitty boobs – definitely have not!
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During my last pregnancy I felt beautiful and confident and, yes, even slightly sexy :) I took pleasure in my growing belly. Now – good gravy is my belly growing! But all of those positive feelings have been replaced by much less pleasant things.
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My motivation to work is just slightly higher than zilch. While that’s not necessarily a change!, what is a change is the fact that I don’t really seem to care.
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Our relationship with our families has continued to change for the worse. Has anyone managed to hibernate and/or “skip” the holidays without causing irreparable harm? I want them to know that I really would be very sad to not spend the holidays with them. But. And what would they take from that? That I’m staying away just because I’m being juvenile and stubborn. Please share your experience, if you have one.
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I’m terrified that our family problems are going to change B and my relationship. I really, really hope not. We're trying to work together. But, part of me is really ready to just be done with it. And B won't like that.

Not-So-Deep, But Definitely Rambling, Thoughts

My “favorite” type of post to read (although I don’t really feel comfortable using the word “favorite” in this context) is one that makes me think. One with so many layers and food for thought that I’m often left just kind of staring at the screen. Or I’ll close out the screen and chew on the words over the next minutes or hours. Often my comments on such posts are rather pathetic, for no reason other than I don’t yet know what to say!

Such posts can be no more than a few lines, like this one from niobe. (I admit to being rather in awe of such effective brevity, as that clearly is not my strong point!) Such posts can be longer, such as this one from angie, titled "On Blogging and Honesty."

This blog is a “journal,” of sorts. I don’t claim nor try to write the deep, thought-provoking type of posts that I so appreciate.

But angie's post got me thinking about why I blog. Not a terribly interesting thought process, I admit :) It’s been the subject of many posts by many bloggers over the years - I'm fairly sure I've written at least one or two posts on the topic myself - and I don’t profess to have anything new or interesting to add to the conversation now.

But, as I sat here thinking, I did realize that nearly everything in life – even my motivation for blogging – is multi-layered.

So what did I do? I sat down and began typing. I sat down to let my thoughts work themselves out. To type one thought here. . . another thought there. . . then, hopefully, I cut and paste and move things around until I look up and say, “Huh. So *that’s* what I was thinking.” Reason #1 that I blog: to figure out what I’m thinking.

Going back to my thoughts after reading angie's post - I think that I am honest in my real life, although not necessarily on the surface. If I am asked a direct question, I answer. I don’t usually volunteer personal information any more. In fact, as part of my effort to become a kinder, gentler soul (gag), I try (often unsuccesfully) to withhold most thoughts and opinions unless it is clear that they are being requested.

I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, but I don’t hide them, either, to those who can be bothered to care. (Well, maybe just a little. A perfect example: The question: "Hey, how are you doing?!" Receives the response: "Fine thanks." And only: "So, are you pregnant/able to try again/etc.?" Receives the response: "Actually, I'm 18 weeks pregnant." Ah well.)

I also really do think that I’m honest on this blog. Shockingly honest, actually, because I use this space to write those things that I feel could never be said IRL. Because that’s how I use this space, however, my story here is not necessarily well rounded. I don’t write about the ins and outs of my job, for example, or my recent inability to keep my house feeling so-fresh-and-so-clean-clean what with the rainy whether and two dogs. But I do think that I share enough to give a basically accurate snapshot of my life.

Since I began this place to be a journal, without any idea of whether people would actually read it (and, quite frankly, really doubting that they would!), I’m sometimes embarrassed to realize that, often, I post because I am so craving your comments and support. I’ve come to rely upon your presence in a way I never anticipated. I say “embarrassed” because, quite frankly, I'm not used to needing people in that way. But hey, maybe that’s been a learning experience too.

Over the past few days I’ve blogged for all of these reasons. The other night – B got off the phone with his dad. Neither of us said much. Then, finally, I felt myself coming apart. I went into the bathroom, turned on the overhead fan, and just lost it. I pulled myself together, got ready for bed, and went into the bedroom for B to give me my Lovenox shot. Naturally, it hurt 1000 times more than normal. The tears started falling, and in one smooth motion I swung my legs off the bed, walked into the family room, picked up my laptop, and typed out a draft of this post. Ahhhhhh. I hadn’t felt that familiar pull to the keys in quite a while. Lately, it’s more of, “Okay, Bluebird, you’re past due for a blog post, you know it’s good for you!”

But the relief was instant. And I was reminded - Reason #2: to get the thoughts out of my head.

Then, just as predictably – you wonderful souls rallied the troups and provided me with support that really could not have come from anywhere else in this world. Ahhhhhhh. Reason #3.