Free-thinkers, Society, and Birth

Several weeks ago my husband came home with a story of a fellow co-worker who was almost do for their first baby. "She's sick of being pregnant", "Just wants the baby out", and "The doctor says they'll induce her" were some of the things that were said. Both of us were immediately concerned and confused as to why someone would simply let a doctor interfere with the natural birth process if nothing were wrong. I grabbed one of my resources and started researching induction. The statistics are terrible. Basically, if you don't want surgery, don't let the doctors do ANYTHING! First time pregnancies go an average of 42 weeks. At 40 weeks you haven't even reached full gestation. Babies come when they are ready. Doctors induce at 40 weeks, labor rarely kicks in (unless the baby was about to come anyway) which leads to a c-section since the doctors have now messed with things. When labor does kick in during an induction the contractions are so abnormally strong that the baby often goes into distress therefore creating a need for a c-section. It's most often a one-way road to not a bad birth experience. The following week my husband reported that instead of induction the doctors had decided to simply "strip her membranes". This made my heart drop more. A few weeks prior I had connected with a women who's doctor had done the same procedure. This is essentially when the doctor pushes the bag of waters away from the cervix making it weaker in hopes of inducing labor. This women that I met went home that night and started labor but also developed severe pain, chills, and a high fever. They called the hospital several times and the hospital said that women always have chilld in labor. This is not only not true but usually happens around the time of transition. This women waited at home until her gut feeling drove her and her husband to go in. When they got there someone finally realized that something was very terribly wrong. She ended up having an emergency c-section and treated for a massive internal staph infection. The baby died shortly after birth because it was so severely infected. This had happened because her doctor stripped her membranes. Staph infections come from the outside and wouldn't find their way up the birth canal unless it was brought there by another source, like a doctors hand. The infection was also SO strong that it spread that fast and killed her baby. Virulent infections such as that are only found in hospitals and medical facilities. There was no need for her doctor to have taken any action at all. Our bodies are perfect and know what they are doing, much more so than doctors. This lady, like myself, found herself recoverying from massive surgery and grieving a baby.
My husband and I talked about mentioning the risks to this coworker but decided they weren't close enough and the work environment was conducive enough. Yesterday we heard the baby was born.....via c-section, and mom's "in some pain". Really? No kidding. I started crying when Tyler told me that. Her first baby. Her first birth experience. And she has to spend the next year recovering instead of walking around holding and smiling with her baby. She'll have to fight hospitals tooth and nail to try a vbac, if she even decides to try that route. If not she'll undergo more cesareans only to double and triple her scar tissue, adhesions, recovery time and increase her chances every single time of a twisted bowel, ruptured uterus, blood transfusion, cutting the baby and the list goes on and on. Why would someone simply follow what a doctor wanted without asking questions? Why do any of us do that? Isn't there any intuition left for any of us to follow?
It was very clear to me today in my daughter's first grade classroom. I don't honestly think there is much intuition left or that we allow ourselves to hear it. I think it comes from the society that we are living in. We breed our independ thoughts out of people at an early age. Let's face it, only a nation of followers and not independent thinkers would have voted in the current administration. The less people think, they more they accept. Today was my daughter's Christmas party in her classroom. I volunteered to go in and make Gingerbread houses with the kids. I sat there as the teacher explained the directions. They were very simple: use the frosting as glue, use the graham crackers as sides of the house, use the candy to decorate. The instructions lasted ten seconds but the questions the kids had lasted ten minutes. "Can we make a door?" "Do we need windows?" "Can I make a roof?" "Does the roof have to be pointed?" "Do the colors have to match?" and it went on and on. These kids are so used to following directions to a 'T' that they couldn't understand when the teacher told them "There are no rules. Just have fun". Even after she added that line the questions still came. This was a room full of 6 and 7 year olds and they couldn't even feel free enough to just build a house however they wanted to. It took a long time but it seemed like they were unable to think on their own....already! I'm even guilty of teaching my kids to "read the instructions", and "follow the directions". Unfortunately my son has a teacher who is often wrong and he never stands up for himself. I have a folder of papers that she's mispelled, marked wrong when they are right or marked right when they are wrong. He comes and tells me "but mommy she was wrong" but he doesn't feel like he can say that to her, even when I tell him to. Why? Because she's the teacher. Just like we act around doctors. We're all so good at following directions instead of following common sense. Our doctors tell us "you'll need a c-section" and we nod our heads and go "okay" because they're the doctors and surely they know best. They say we need to be induced and even if their is a voice in our heads that says "my baby's just fine" we nod our heads because that is the almighty doctor. We need to value our own wisdom more. We're smart people and we don't give ourselves enough credit. Question authority. Figure out your feelings. Make decisions for yourself. Teachers are just waiting to retire. Doctors are just avoiding lawsuits and want to make it home for dinner. Take care of you and your family because nobody else is going to.  
It's been four and a half months since my cesarean and I was up all last night in extreme pain. I had to crawl my way out of the bedroom so that I wouldn't wake up my husband. To make matters worse I've shown my records to a list of doctors in several states. The morning my son was born we had an ultrasound that showed things were getting worse. The doctor said "we need to take him now". Other doctors since then have said that according to everything that was happening on the ultrasounds, it was obvious my son was dying and would not just be fine the minute he was born. So my doctor had one of two motivations. Do a c-section to show that you "tried" to save the baby so that I can't turn around and sue her. Or collect the 40k in insurance money that a cesarean costs before you send me home. Doctors are not honest and they very rarely care about you. God did not intend babies to be born in such a way. Surgeries are good when what the doctors will do to you is better than what is happening to you. Unfortunately this is not always the case. Research. Read. Ask questions. Get empowered. Or you'll fall inline like cattle and not be in control of your own life.

Capacity for Love

It's interesting to me that throughout all of the darkness and pain of the past 5 months I've also experienced love on a deeper level. I've always loved my children more than anything, but I have loved them deeper and cherished them more since I've lost a child. To some extent, while loving them, I still took them for granted. We never got pregnant thinking we were asking for a gift from God. We just assumed that most people get pregnant and this is what we wanted for our lives. I took for granted the fact that my children were alive everyday. I've heard before that you can't have one side of an emotion without having the other; like you can't hurt deeply unless you love deeply. In some strange way I am finding that to be very true. I couldn't cherish my children in the same way that I do today without having experienced all of that hurt from losing Wyatt. They amaze me everyday. Every funny thing they say and do. Every independent act the achieve on their own. My daughter is trying to discover her own sense of fashion while checking with us every three seconds that she is still pretty. Lexi is spitting out a new word everyday. I wake up to "Mommy! Where'dya go?" on the baby monitor. My son, bless his heart, has learned how to surf the internet. Not only is it time for parental controls to be installed BUT I'm amazed that he is old enough to surf. I was in 7th grade learning how to "open a window" and "double-click". I look at these things in a profound way, much different than before, although not with more love than before. I almost feel like a philosopher throughout the day and it renders silent most of the time. I haven't spent enough time as an observer in life, I think. I look at my kids and all children for that matter as these tiny, new beings that look at everything we find boring with absolute amazement. They love unconditionally and with their whole heart. When I thought my daughter was being irriating she was really just wanting to be near me. When Lexi wants me to read her the same book AGAIN it's because she love hearing me read it, and I should be honored instead of upset. Birth is amazing. Life is amazing. Children are amazing. They aren't old and tired and boring like I am. I've spent my whole life being as productive as possible every single day until I collapsed into bed for not-enough-sleep ever single night. For once I am getting 8 hours of sleep. I'm not very productive since Wyatt left us. I am not taking classes. I didn't sew the kids Halloween costumes. I've barely started Christmas shopping. But my house is clean and I'm spending a lot of time with the kids. Good time, like I haven't spent in a long while. I'm rested and I'm taking vitamins, things I've never done before.There are moments, at least one a day, that something about Wyatt brings me to tears. It's always right there in my throat, and it comes out when I dust his urn or see his pictures or think about how he was supposed to be in this years Christmas picture. But I'm usually ok. I've developed this thought pattern where I say to myself "That's my son's urn, and that's ok. I'm ok". Something no parent should ever have to say but it works. It calms me down. Aside from feeling a deeper love for my children, I've felt true love from my husband and friends. People have come to love us and support us that I never would have thought. Our church stepped up and took care of us. My husband stepped up and took care of myself and the kids since I was unable, both physically and emotionally. Even my girlfriends who I thought I were lifelong friends anyway pulled through one more time for me while I was in need and didn't even know it. I may never be able to understand it but it's taken a deep pain for me to be able to feel and understand deep love.
As I've survived the past few months I've found myself asking questions about God and life. For the first few weeks I was pretty sure there was no God. How could children die if there were? Now I'm back to knowing that there is a God and I believe Jesus came, but I don't understand a lot. Why did God create us? Why do we mourn if earth isn't all it's cracked up to be? Ecclesiastes 5 and 6 talks about how a person with a sad life is better off never having been born. When Wyatt passed that was what so many people told us, "he just gets heaven before we do". So then why do we have children? Why do we have that deep desire to procreate and love and raise a child? Why does it ruin us when there are fertility issues? Logically shouldn't we just be happy that any children we were to have don't have to live here on earth? What really happened with Wyatt in utero? Has everything in life I've attributed to God really been God? I know He listens, but does He really guide or help us? I asked him all of this and more this morning. I realized I had never actually asked Him, I had just asked everyone else. I'm still waiting for His response. I also reminded Him that He gave me my brain so he must be thoroughly amused with the way that it's working right now. I've asked Him for months to give me a sign that Wyatt is ok and that He is God, but I'm still waiting for that as well.
I've mustered up the courage to be out in the world again with the normal people. I started volunteering at church and it's been really fun. I just hope no one noticed I was late in skipping the screen to the next set of lyrics when I started playing with Wyatt's necklace around my neck and zoned out. I'm not sure I'm feeling the fullfillment that I should be from helping out. I think I'm supposed to be serving. People thank me for helping and I'm not sure what to say. Maybe the feeling will come. We did children dedications today where families gave children back to God. I hadn't thought of my children like that before. I thought I had to raise them right, but I always thought of them as more mine than His. I'm pretty sure that's wrong. I'm also pretty sure that if there were ever a time I considered more children that I would have to understand why we want another child to be on earth and to see the act of having a child as receiving a precious and temporary gift from God to be stewards of.
Aside from church, It actually seems that nothing is really fullfilling me at the moment. I need to find solid ground with God again. I don't feel like I can really go on until I know what in the world I am doing here, why there is so much pain, if I can really rely on God, and if heaven really is as awesome as we think. I need that back in place. Until then I will keep waiting for answers and loving my children more than I ever knew I could.

Surgery, Doctors, and Decisions

I started writing this blog with the thought that no one would read it. It's me talking to a computer screen. If I think about people reading this I tend to edit and censor and that's counterproductive to any therapeutic effect. That being said, it is frustrating when things are taken out of context. I usually write when my emotions are high and I need an "out". Perhaps I am not extremely eloquent or don't explain something well enough. I won't apologize; I type extremely fast, let everything out and then I usually feel better. I'm not in a great place right now, that almost goes without saying. I'm not expected to be. I've met families who lost their babies years ago and you can still see the pain on their faces. It changes a person. It has changed us. I'm not sure what I've "changed into" yet, and I know the process is far from done. Some babies are miscarriages, some or stillborn and then some are like Wyatt who live for just a short amount of time. Most scenarios that I hear of are cut and dry- the baby died in the womb for unknown reasons, the cord tied a knot on itself etc. With Wyatt there was so much grey and there still is in the aftermath. Doctors told us things that didn't make sense and could only give us so much evidence. We are supposed to believe them, because they're doctors, but I've been around doctors too long to know that you don't ever take anything at face value. Doctors vary as much as individual humans do. Each hospital has it's own way of doing things. Each doctors operates differenlty based on their worldview, upbringing, location of their schooling, and who they interacted with as a resident. So when a doctor says something HAS to be a certain way, it's almost never true. I never knew how grey the area of medicine was. It's all just a big guess. Some people have felt like the c-section shouldn't bother me. What no one knows is all of the physical mess that has happened (aside from Wyatt) because I happened to get a doctor who (and I quote) thinks "uteruses are overrated". I had the OBs in the hospital telling me "It has to be a c-section" but when I talk to Ob's outside of this region they've only heard of this happening, never practiced it. We made the best choices we could at the time. We had no where to go and very little time. In other places I've lived I would have driven to Oklahoma City or Dallas or San Antonio for second opinions. Boise is this tiny little island in the middle of nowhere with two hospitals for the next 15 hours. So when we are faced with people telling us "Things have to be this way!", what do we do? I fought every doctor that I could. I was wheeled into surgery just wishing to give birth. Turns out instincts are right and that's what is hard to cope with. I should've listened to my instincts. This advice was also coming from the all-wise physicians who told us if we went home at 24 weeks Wyatt would die in less than a week. And then he grew and thrived for another three weeks. It's funny how doctors can be wrong in that case but then still expect you to listen to them in all other aspects. When Wyatt was looked at and was shown growing and well in the womb they looked dumbfounded. They didn't have a clue. So when they told us "It has to be a c-section" what they really meant was "Well, we don't really have a clue what's going on and we can't tell you why. It seems to me that a c-section might be a good route because, well, that's my best guess". I wish doctors would tell you things like that, which are, in fact, the truth. Wyatt died when he wasn't supposed to because another all-wise doctors apparently didn't now when an air tube was supposed to go. So then we get sent home, cut open and with our baby in an urn and there's no accountability to be had. No one is responsible, apparently, for wrong directions, bad procedures, and and just plain bad advice.
So as the weeks go by and these issues circulate through our minds it's natural for me to start doing research. I am researching like I should've been BEFORE all of this happened, if I had had more time. I've stumbled on amazing statistics about America's healthcare system (and I am not for ONE MINUTE advocating government run healthcare! No way!) BUT giving birth is one of the few areas that actually violates several different acts, including Hipaa. A patient always has the right to refuse surgery, unless of course it's a women in labor who doesn't want a c-section, and then she's pretty much left to give birth on the sidewalk. If she wants hospital care, it has to be a c-section. Doctors want to go home, they want to get paid, they don't want to sit around and wait for something natural to occur no matter how many days or hours it takes. For all of our interventions we have one of the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in the world! Some people have acted like c-sections aren't a big deal but what they aren't aware of are the membranes that are cut and never repared, the damage done to your abdominal muscles, your intestines, the damage that adhesions can do, and scare tissue etc. It's not pretty. I'm upset at the surgery but I'm upset at the lack of honesty. Why can't a doctors say "This is what I think, but here are ALL of your options in this situation..."? That would make it easier to think about what our bodies need and want. The lab coats blind us into thinking these are people who know everything.
Without Wyatt here I've had nothing else to linger on and no positive outlook to the surgery that was done. If I was holding him, yes, it would be easy to say "You were worth it buddy". And he was. I begged God to take me, I would've given Wyatt any body part he needed. It's so so easy to lose sight of that when all I have are unanswered questions and pictures of my little boy. It's so easy to forget why we tried to have him in the first place when he was going to die anyway. Hindsight sucks. My faith is rocked. I feel stuck everywhere but in the present. I am in the past worrying about everything that happened and trying to go back and make different decisions. And I am in the future, worrying about everything that might happen because of all of this. It's very hard to just be. Some people think I'm crazy and that's ok. Maybe they're right. It's funny, though, meeting other families who have lost their newborns- they don't think we are nuts. They just cry and say "We've been there, too". So maybe my thoughts and feelings are scary to people who don't understand. Heck, I don't even understand. But I'm letting it happen, one day at a time.

Due Dates Nearing

Right now I would've been 37 weeks pregnant and Wyatt would have come any day. I never made it past 38 weeks with any of my kids. The house seems especially empty this past week. Just when I thought that I just might be ok it was like the bubble popped. I've been sinking farther down for a few days now. I remember dreading bringing Wyatt home because it would be October and probably pretty cold. But I was wrong, it has been warm and sunny and we've spent a lot of time outside as a family. This would've been perfect to bring him home in. I just pictured October as being much different, completely ready for a new baby. Now there's not one trace to show that we were supposed to be bringing Wyatt home. There's no crib, no infant car seat. Lexi has no little brother to stare at and point to. She recently learned the sign for "baby" and points to baby's when we are out. I wonder if she would've made the sign for Wyatt. I have some of his pictures up by my bed, his urn, and the many signs my 6 year-old has hung around the house. They read things like "I hope you fun up in hevin and spending time with God", "I wish you were here, you would have been a great kid", and "Sleep in peace, Wyatt". Then she drew a picture of her handing Wyatt to God. Why do these things have to be in my life? Why does my young daughter have to draw pictures of her handing her baby brother to God? It's still so painful. It's been 10 weeks and it's like it was yesterday. We are still smoothing out the medical issues that came out of just the c-section. At the very least I'll have another surgery around January but who knows what else needs to be done. The scenarios go around and around in my mind, with the choices we made and what we could've done instead. If we would've lived somewhere with better healthcare, if we had been able to get a second opinion, if we weren't so isolated here in this stupid city, if we would've known that Wyatt would die we would have at least given birth and not bothered with a c-section. Life now would at least be physically less painful for me.
I have so many questions about faith and God. I find myself reading stories about heaven to the kids and realizing that I need this information just as much as they do. I'm like a little kid starting from scratch with the most basic questions about God and the world. I have no answers at all and I've never felt farther from God in my life. One things I have found is that this whole world suffers. My tragedy is not unique. I've met so many other people through this experience that have lost babies. This makes me more sensative to all the different kinds of suffering there are in the world. Starving kids in Africa is no longer a joke at dinner time. The thought of a dying child breaks my heart. It's real and it happens. I don't doubt there's a God. I do doubt how much He is doing on earth. Maybe we are supposed to just pray and have faith and expect nothing from Him. Some people die when they shouldn't, some people live when they shouldn't. It's not fair, so is it really God? Is God unfair? Or is He not responsible for the healing or the dying, maybe those are just things that happen in this crappy world.
So many people have told me that Wyatt just gets to be in heaven before we do. If that's so wonderful than why are we trying to keep people from dying? Doesn't that mean that everyone alive is getting the short end of the stick? Why do we even have kids? Why do we have that desire if we really believed heaven was the best place to be? Even now, in the midst of all of this, I long to hold a baby in my arms. In one day I can come full circle from wanting to get pregnant right now to never ever considering getting pregnant again. My poor husband is helpless to watch, especially because I don't understand my moods either. Life has certainly taken it's toll on us. I knew the world wasn't great but couldn't the suffering have waited a few more years for us? I atleast expect about 15 more years of ignorance to the topic of suffering and tragedy.
The other night we had a good friend over who we hadn't seen in years. He and my husband had been great friends but now looked drastically different. Our friend was light and bubbly while my husband could only force smirks. I couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and how he looked like life had really beat him down. I feel terrible that life has been this way. It's just been too much for any human to take on. I'm not very content on earth anymore. I don't find enjoyment in songs or car rides or quiet times or even sitting in the sun (my favorite pasttime). Everything seems pointless and nothing seems important. Nothing quenches what I need...and I'm not even sure what that is. I want to be with Wyatt, wherever he is, and I feel guilty that life will suck one day for my kids as well, they just don't know it yet.
So as this week passes I wonder how Wyatt would've been born, if I would have finally gotten to the hospital in time to receive pain medication, if he would've been a good nurser, what doctor would've been there etc. What would his birthday have really been? What would he have been for Halloween? I always pictured standing with our neighbors, holding our newborn as the kids went trick-or-treating. All of these visions are not my reality and it makes me nauseous. We loved Wyatt. We would've been great parents. My husband is the only father on the block who is outside playing ball with the kids and being involved in their lives. He deserved a son. He would've been great.

How am I still alive?

In the past I had heard stories of loss and did the typical, gasp, sigh, and "Oh poor them" or "that's terrible". When I had heard stories about child or infant loss I'd usually add the thought or expression of "How did they get through that?" or "How are they even functioning now?". Especially if you can see who the story is about. You might see a woman smiling with her kids, knowing a sad background story of how she lost her spouse suddenly one day. Or parents running errands with their kids, knowing that they had lost a child tragically. They always look normal and you always wonder how they do it. Now I know. I know that they don't even know how they do it. In the last two weeks I've gotten groceries, done homework with the kids and gone to church. I've even cooked a few new tasty recipes. But I don't know how. I don't know where the energy comes from to get out of bed in the morning. I don't know how my clothes match or how I've been able to smile and manage small talk a few times. It's just happened. Somedays I am choking on tears all the way through, forcing the smiles out. Somedays I have moments where I think to myself "I'm ok right this second". Usually the days are followed by sad, lonely nights. I get all the kids to bed and look at the pictures of Wyatt on my night stand and the pain stabs me all over again. My heart feels hollow. It's a pain that I can't describe and I hope that no one else would ever have to feel again. It's empty, like my heart echos. Even if I had more children there would this very silent and still void. I'm not sure if the children feel it. Tyler and I do, and we can confirm it with just a look at one another.
Last night I was talking to my husband about things that have popped into my head during the day. For example, the most recent painful one is remembering giving Wyatt over to the nurses to be taken away. I had handed him to Tyler and Tyler asked if I wanted him back for a moment before he gave him over. I declined at the time, but the other day I panicked. Why didn't I take him back that one last time? Why didn't I tell him I loved him one more time? Or kiss his cheek or rub his soft hair against my cheek one more time? Why would I have said 'no'? The panic grips my heart and then aches as I realize I can't do anything about it. After telling this I then asked him "How are we still alive? How did we go through that and have come out living on the other end?" We both just shook our heads. Surely our hearts should have stopped beating the moment that Wyatt's did. I wish it would have. It only seems natural. How am I here and my son is not? How could I have survived one of those unbearable stories that you only hear about?
It should be noted that things are not great and will never be the same. Before I was in grad school with the three kids at home. Somehow I managed to juggle everything. "there are 24 usuable hours in every day" was my motto. Since Wyatt left us I can't multitask worth a darn. Tyler let me drive down the road to the store the other day. "Where are you going?" he asked on the way home. I had no idea where I was and only realized it when he asked the question. Even after he asked it was difficult to navigate my way back to familiar territory. I didn't know where I was, and honestly I didn't care. At times I have gone to turn the parking break off and turned the blinker on instead. Needless to stay I try and stay home as much as I can. How I ever did homework and took care of the kids I will never know. I'm not sure how I would ever do it again. I literally don't think straight. When I am thinking it's usually about God, and fate, and prayer and why? I don't understand anything anymore. My life has no solid foundation. I have housework to do, birthdays to plan and holidays to prepare for. I have 'thank you' cards still from Wyatt's memorial to be filled out and photo albums to fill of him. It's all happening slowly and in my own time. I hope that doesn't sound selfish but I'm doing all I can.
I miss my boy. I want to hold him again. I want to be with him.

Daily Reminders

It seems to me that, in the past, my perception of how other people must be grieving was way off. Not that I didn't feel sorrow for other's who lost loved ones, but I just assumed that time healed all wounds. I figured you lose a person and as time passes, it gets easier. My grandparents were very easy to lose-not in a harsh or mean way but it was natural and they had lived long full lives. With Wyatt I have discovered that things will never be the same.
My husband and I have managed to play a few boardgames with the kids and we've had a good time. But our laughs aren't the same as they were. Our enjoyable moments are not without a deep sorrow in our guts that never goes away. One moment we are talking to the children and in the next moment we are opening the mail with our son's birth and death certificates and crying like it just happened all over again. It's always right there, I'm always right on the edge of the greatest sorrow and pain I've ever known. I don't have to try and feel it or reach hard to find. It's there waiting for a small trigger to set it off. It can be a quite moment where my mind wonders back to handing Wyatt to the nurses in the hospital for the last time, or a quick glance at his picture, my daughter (whose face looks just like Wyatt), or a sharp pain from the c-section wound that reminds me I should be holding a baby. There are reminders everywhere, it's constant. And people don't realize it. I tried a postnatal workout tape, but the instructor kept talking about strengthening exercises to help hold our new baby. I ordered a wrap for my c-section incision and the lady on the other end of the phone offered me congratulations on my new baby and asked what gender it was. Someone in the store today was hollaring "Wyatt!". The man at Walgreens pharmacy asked if I was pregnant before handing me a prescription. I should be. I want to say yes. I'd be 33 weeks right now. But I have to say "no" and I don't want to. I keep getting emails from my husbands coworkers announcing the new babies every time they are born. I swear there's one almost every day. The other day it was twins, who had a much higher chance or mortality than Wyatt. I still don't know what to do with his baby clothes. They're just hanging there in the closet. I looked at them today and cried at the irony of a onesie I bought from my University. It says "I'm an answered prayer" across the front. I thought it was true at the time. When we first thought we might miscarry Wyatt and then didn't we thought God had heard us and answered our prayers. Now I don't know what to think. There's a lump in my throat every time I have to answer how many children I have or how many "live births" I've had from doctors. I couldn't even get my OB to take me seriously about some of the c-section problems until I lied and told her I was taking antidepressents. She just kept telling me that I was so depressed it was causing the pain. After I told her I was taking them she announced how "great I looked!" She told me they were working and to stay on them. I'm sure I'm severely depressed but I'd like a doctor to listen to me without thinking I'm crazy. I had packed up all of my maternity clothes but now find I still have to wear the pants. Either my body was badly hacked up in that c-section or it's still swollen. Wearing maternity clothes post pregnancy is something I've never had to experience, it's insult to injury. No baby to show for all of this pain and yet I have to wear maternity clothes. My skin is ragged and looks like an old woman's. Never had that happen before either. All of these things would be worth it if Wyatt were here. But since he isn't I despise my body even more, trying desperately to get it back to the way it was. I couldn't even nurse, which was always my best way to lose the baby fat. I should've pumped, I guess, but I didn't think of it at the time. I was too consumed by it all.
I wondered today what I would've put Wyatt in for halloween. It's the perfect time of year to be born, infant costumes are the sweetest. I wondered what Wyatt's favorite food would have been or what he would have named his kids. There's always a new thought that brings more sorrow, like 'I'll never have grandkids from Wyatt'. There's so many missed chances, missed opportunities to have loved him or to have spent with him. It'll never be the same. Our laughs aren't as happy. Our quiet moments are much quieter. Every family activity is missing a person. There'll always be a hole. I told my husband the worst thing about death is that it's so final. I can't change it. I can't go back and get another chance to do things differently during the pregnancy. I can't make different decisions about giving birth or having a c-section. I can't go back and try different doctors or a different state. I can't make him live. I can't do it. And it drives me insane.

Grief

I haven't written in a while. I've wanted to every single day but honestly....I just haven't been sure what to write. I think this is the "huh" phase of grief. I'm not sure if that's 'technically' a phase of grief, but it is for me. For almost four weeks I've cried uncontrollably at least a few times every single day. Then it subsided. I've still cried once a day this last week, but I've been much more numb. I've also started to talk to people....fairly well, I think. I've managed to go to church and our church group and be ok in those places. I finally got some groceries. It's interesting to me, that I feel like I have more reason than I ever have to be mean and cynical to people. After all, most have no idea what I've gone through and what I'm going through. Losing Wyatt has done something to me, though. I feel even more need to be very polite. I'm very quiet and soft-spoken which have never been traits of mine. I can't tell if I'm worn out and beat down or that I'm seeing life as more fragile and precious. Or possibly both. I haven't gotten short with my children, no matter how much they've acted out. At least they're alive. I want them to know how precious they are to me. I wonder if Wyatt knows how precious he was and is to me still? I never got to hold him while he was living, so I wonder how he would know how very much I love him?
There are many aspects to this "huh" phase. I've changed personally somehow. I'm a different parent. I also stopped my degree and with it all future plans for a career. I don't even know if that's the right career anymore. If it's not, than what do I do with life? When do I go back to school? Where do I go back to school? If I don't go back to school, what do I do? I can't watch hardly anything on TV. It's all so sad and I never noticed it before. Every law show or crime show...someone is always getting hurt. Those are human lives being lost, why would I want to watch that for enjoyment?Then there are reality shows full of stupid people putting priorities in the wrong place and thinking stupid things are important. Really? Why in the world would I watch those? Movies, too, are all so violent and ridiculous. Full of very unimportant things. You know what's important? Family. That's it. Not cars or careers or money or how many people you can date, or who looks better or who can win money....everything seems frivolous. While things are complicated for me right now, they are in some ways very simple. Everything that I thought was important really wasn't. My kids, my husband, their health and my health. That's what is important. I've had to take the past 5 weeks and do everything that I can to try and heal and regain my health. I can finally walk again, and bend somewhat to pick things up. The very small and simple things I had taken for granted I am now so thankful to be able to do. Like sleep without excruciating pain (there is still pain, but the excruciating part has subsided), or go to the bathroom in a somewhat normal manner, or sit up, or get a glass of water by myself. Up until about 5 days ago I couldn't even take a deep enough breathe to speak loudly. Being able to do some of these things again has made me feel grateful for the most basic bodily functions. As I feel like I've regained some ability, however, I have shifted my focus back to Wyatt. I lost a son. It still seems surreal. I have two babies in heaven now before me. It breaks my heart. Even with faith in God death is a scary thing. It's mysterious, people don't come back to tell us it's ok on the other side. Wyatt went there and I wasn't there to protect him or go there with him. I feel very helpless, it was my parental responsibility to protect him and I couldn't do it.
Moving like a sloth is also part of where I am. I feel almost mindless and cannot focus on anything. I haven't driven anywhere since we lost Wyatt and I'm honestly nervous to. There are moments throughout the day when I feel like I'm doing ok, and then I go to do something- like get dressed or shower or get something in another room- and it takes ten times as long as it normally would have. Everything is challenge. It feels like I'm learning motorskills all over again. Tyler will talk to me and I don't hear what he says. It's not that I am thinking about something else or listening to something else....I just didn't hear. This is the first time in my life that my brain is "nowhere". It just goes off, somewhere, like it checks out for moments at a time.
While I don't cry all the time now, crying and becoming hyperemotional is very easy. Even if it's a moment that I am not thinking of Wyatt, I tear up. I was watching a documentary on Jesus last night and I burst out into tears. I am meeting many people who have lost children (it's like a secret club that you never wanted to be a part of) and seeing pictures of their babies or hearing their stories make me cry uncontrollably. Singing in church starts the tears all over again. I sing words to God that I'm not really pleased with. Talking about anything in the future with my husbands makes us cry because Wyatt was supposed to be here on our life journey.
I have strong phobias that popped up in the hospital, the day after they took Wyatt away. I am TERRIFIED of being alone. The dark scares the hell out of me. I feel like life is so fragile that I could lose any other member of my family at any moment. Lexi coughs during the night and I think she's suffocating. She has slept in a few times and I make Tyler wake her up because I'm scared there is something wrong. Tyler drove the kids to a store while I rested and I was in a panic the whole time that they would get in a car accident and I would lose the rest of my family. I've never been gripped by so much fear before. I have this urgent need to hold everyone I love close and cherish them.
The whole shape of our family is changing again. I believe we have 9 months of pregnancy to prepare emotionally and physically for an addition to the family. By the time the baby comes you have a good grasp that life will include one more person. In one instant our family went from 6 to 5 and we don't have months to adjust to that number. A doctor told us that they had heard it takes about year before you feel "normal" moments again. Initially that seemed like a long time but I get it now. Wyatt was going to be with us forever. But certainly everything in the next year was planned with him. The holidays we planned around having a new baby. The winter we counted on combatting a new infant with my infamous seasonal depression. The summer we planned on getting easier with Wyatt getting older and then back around to his first birthday. All of these things remind us of him. Our family Christmas ornament has Wyatt on it. We were about to order his personalized Christmas stocking to match the rest of ours. I don't have a use for the infant car seat winter cover that I bought to help with the strong Idaho winters. I kept trying to recover physically so I can get on with life, but I don't think that will happen. I don't think there will be a "get back to normal". I don't think you're ever the same again. That can be good or bad, and right now I don't feel either.  
There is a grief creed that the hospital chaplains sent us. I think it accurately describes my life right now.

I believe grief is a process that involves a lot of time, energy, and determination. I won't "get over it" in a hurry, so don't rush me!
I believe grief is intensely personal. This is my grief. Don't tell me how I should be doing it. Don't tell me what's right or what's wrong. I'm doing it my way, in my time.
I believe grief is affecting me in many ways. I am being affected spiritually, physically, emotionally, socially, and mentally. If I'm not acting like my old self, it's because I'm not my old self and some days I don't even understand myself.
I believe I will be affected in some way by this loss for the rest of my life. As I get older, I will have new insights into what this death means to me. My loved one will continue to be a part of my life and influence me until the day I die.
I believe I am being changed by this process. I see life differently. Some things that were once important to me aren't anymore. Some things I used to pay little or no attention to are now important. I think a new me is emerging, so don't be surprised-and don't stand in the way.