Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Disturbing Dream

I had a dream the other night that has haunted me ever since, causing me to have trouble falling asleep in contemplation and interpretation of the dream.  It bothered me so, that I debated whether to write about it or not.  So enter my dreamworld at your own risk...

In the dream I was taking a "Scope" class...literally.  We spent our class time looking through microscopes, periscopes, telescopes, orthoscopes, and probably looking at horoscopes and listening to stethoscopes were on the syllabus too. 

In my dream, I was attending one of my "Scope" classes which happened to be held at the mall, not sure why, maybe we were supposed to "scope" out good deals while we were there.  We had a choice on whether to go to one classroom and view a comet through a telescope or witness the anatomy and physiological process of a miscarriage.  I gravitated towards the microscope room with my heart filled determination, as I am a life long learner, and maybe what I would see would help me figure out how to prevent miscarriages in the future.  I wanted a "cure".

As I went into the microscope classroom, which thinking back it should have been an orthoscopic type viewing, so I think it's ironic that this tragic event would be viewed under a microscope when in reality, it's often something considered taboo to discuss.  I was the only one in the class, the professor motioned me forward to view the slide and I approached the microscope viewer and peered in.  There I saw a little bean shaped human, much like I had seen in my own early ultrasounds and a flittering object I could only assume was the heart.   I smiled at the professor knowing that this little human "bean" was just fine, but he motioned me to look on.  As I watched, I realized things were going south, not quite sure how and I predicted the horror I was about to witness.  I ran from the room in fear, sorrow, anxiety, panic, and maybe even disgust and ran straight to the room where most of my classmates were staring with wonder and amazement at the comet they saw using the telescope.  I waited nervously, thinking back on the other classroom, and fearing what was going on while I waited to see a wonder of the universe that always brought pleasure, never heartache.

When my turn finally came, I stared into the telescope and was disappointed with what I saw.  There in front of me in the night sky, was a poorly, pixelated, stretched out version of a comet clipart.  I looked back at the people congregating outside of the classroom and wondered what they viewed that was so awesome to them, it was a sham to me.  I left frustrated and dared to return to the other room out of curiosity, the room was empty.

I woke up from that dream in a cold sweat, feeling guilty for leaving that little embryo to die alone, guilty for wanting to watch in the first place, guilty for not sticking around to try to learn something so I could save the world from miscarriages.  But most of all I questioned my choices, my choice to choose the microscope room first, then to flee, then to return if only to ogle.

After pining over this dream for a couple of nights, I had some interesting thoughts.

As I stated, most of the class was looking through the telescope at something that amazed them and essentially made them happy, no one wanted to look through the microscope and witness a tragedy to human nature.  The same is true with most things, we can talk about the wonders of the world and our universe, but when it comes to tragedies, no matter how small, if we can't fix them before they happen, there is a tendency to avoid them all together, not so much true for the sufferer, but those unaffected tend to move forward or even away.

In the dream, I was all excited to see the microscope slide and was lost in the possibilities that it might provide me, that I might provide to the world.  But when my brain wrapped around the solemn circumstances about to unfold, I turned away, my perseverance wavered, well down fell out from under me and I didn't want to be anywhere but in the awesome light of the comet.  Whether it was that I didn't want to experience the "demise" (as my OB so eloquently put it) of another human in my life or that I didn't want to experience someone else's pain when I had so much pain piled on my shoulders already.

The truth is, not many of us would have chosen to look through that microscope, but there are doctors, med students, and professionals that do, to observe, to learn, to try to prevent.  I guess that's not my lot in life and I am ok with it. 

I realized that I am like the ironic microscope, I can shed light on these tragedies that effect women by the minute, shine a light for them to see and know that they are not in the darkness of grief alone, and shine a light on those professionals trying to make a difference trying to prevent these horrific ends.  Anyone can look through the telescope to see the beauty of the universe, but looking at beauty all of the time can make your view "pixelated", out dated, unclear, guarded, out of focus. 

I am proud of my fellow "microscopes", whatever their cause.  They shine lights on their causes and through their pain and their passion, they strive to learn, grow, raise funds and awareness, support, and make a difference in the lives of those who are affected. 

As for my dream and what it means to me, I might not want to delve into the big, bad and ugly, but I also don't want to spend my life pretending it's not there.  Pieces of my heart, soul, and mind will always fight for the cause, advocate, educate, and fund organizations that support families with CHARGE, families who have lost children to CHARGE, or organizations that promote awareness and support for Baby Loss and Baby Loss families. I will continue to use my own "scope" to view the world around me, the "things" that matter, the people who count, and the love and lives that make the world looking at in the first place.





Monday, November 28, 2011

Holiday Ideas for Grieving Parents

From: Holiday Ideas for Grieving Parents, Child Loss, Christmas ideas, Angel Hugs Grief:



I WILL BE THERE Sharon J. Bryant

Mom, tomorrow I will be there
Though you may not see
I'll smile and remember
The last Christmas, with you and me

Don't be sad mom
I'm never far away
Your heart has hidden sight
My memory will always stay

I watched as you touched the ornaments
Sometimes a tear was shed as you did
I touched you gently on your shoulder
And on tiptoes I proudly stood

I'm only gone for a little while mom
I'm waiting for the day to be
When God calls out your name mom
We'll be together, just you wait and see

But until that time comes
Carry on as you did when I was there
I tell the angels how much I love you
There are angels here everywhere!

I stand behind you some days
When I know that you are sad
I want you to be happy mom
It would make my heart so glad

So on this Christmas Eve, Mom
Think of me as I will be thinking of you
And touch that special ornament
That I once made for you

I love you mom and dad, also
I know you know I do
And I'll be waiting here for you
When your earthly life is through


Love,
Your child in Heaven

     
'via Blog this'

So This Is Christmas....

Last year at this time, I had everything to feel hopeful for, with our Rainbow Baby in my belly and our Angel Baby in my heart.  My entire being was beaming in the anticipation of our beautiful blessing I was carrying and the pride I felt that our son has picked her out and sent her down to us.  Now, as she stares at blinking lights with wonder, and dons cute holiday outfits and beautiful Christmas dresses and giggles at our attempts to sing Christmas carols, an emptiness continues to dig at me, one she has no idea exists, at least I hope she can't read it in my eyes.  Her eyes twinkle with the lights of the season and the wonders that exist in her life right now, holiday season or not.  Everyday is a celebration with her, but this holiday season is extra special for our family now that she's in it.  Yet why do I still feel like every Christmas since my son has been gone finds me with the symbolic coal that naughty children are supposed to receive.  Trey's absence is like a bag of coal in my stocking every year.  Will I ever feel different?  How could I?  One of my children is missing from the festivities.  Even worse, does my precious daughter sense my pain, my sorrow? Will she understand?  What am I stealing from her, because of my grief, that she rightly deserves? Will she ever forgive me? Will Trey? Will I?

I long for the "happy" to be put back in our Holidays...

Monday, November 21, 2011

What Do They See

I spend so much time swimming in my own head and drowning in my own heart, but I have often wondered what others see.


Do they see a happier couple raising their daughter?  Or do they look at three of us and remember there should be four? Do they imagine a little boy running around? Does anyone see the void in the family picture? Do believe our family is whole?


I bet their hearts warm at the blessing that is our little girl. But do they quickly remember the little boy that also blessed our lives? Do they worry about something happening to our daughter too? Do they cringe at that thought and what would happen to us in that sad event? Are they sad that LL will never know her big brother in the flesh?  Do they marvel at what a good big brother he would have been?  Do they pour over our children's pictures searching for similarities? Do they wish they could've seen Trey's sweet face as they look upon our daughter's? Is there a longing to have been able to hold our first born as they hold our second born? Do they thank whatever higher being they recognize that this one is healthy? Do they think that now that we have her, we can move on?


No doubt that they see a couple who has been through hell finally get the healthy baby they have always dreamed of.  But do they see a husband and a wife struggling with their new parental roles when the second time around should prove them a little more experienced? Do they see the evolved grief that comes with having a rainbow baby?  Do they see how hard it is to express an evolved grief that involves a blessing in the midst of a nightmare?  Do they think she will bring us closer the way he did? Do they think we are less sad now that we have her? Do they think she makes it all better?


I am sure they see our smiles and hear our laughter. Yet do they see the tears waiting to pour out? Do they hear the song lyrics they way we do now? Do our faces show the stress of trying to hold ourselves up for our little girl and each other?  Do they see the toll that holding our chins up has taken? Do they see the pride we feel for our little girl and feel the longing we feel to be with our son as well? Are they glad they're not us? Will we forever be known as the couple who lost a baby?  Will they ever look at us without thinking of Trey? Do they still hurt for us? Do they wish we would just move on? Do they secretly hope he never comes up in conversation? Do they realize that we hope he comes up in conversation sometimes just so we know he hasn't been forgotten? Have they forgotten him? Will they?


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Sunday, November 13, 2011

Confession

I want one more, one more child.  I have always wanted two boys and a girl and at this point I am 2/3 there.  I am conflicted in believing that I am entitled to have one more after all we've been through, yet I know none of us are ever entitled to anything in this life, no matter what we've been through.  I also know that just because it's in YOUR plan doesn't mean it's in THE plan, whether one believes in God's plan, nature's plan, karma, or fate.  And even when you get what you want, it's not always in the pretty package that you wanted. I know this all too well.  I wanted Trey, but my want wasn't enough to save him.  My head knows now that I was never meant to have my son here on earth for a lifetime, my heart has a harder time accepting it.  My heart has been in love with my children since I dreamt them up and placed them in my plan, all three of them.  I've had my heart broken, shattered really, by the reality of my first born.  Now, with my rainbow baby I get to realize how shattered my heart actually is.  She's amazing and doing beyond amazing things and I enjoy them all. I am really trying to steer myself away from getting caught in wondering how all of these amazing milestones would have played out with Trey, but I find it just as impossible as thinking about my living child without thinking of BOTH of my children.  I am the mother to two children, some wouldn't recognize that about me, it sounds strange saying it to myself, cause it's not what I see when I look at our family photos, three smiles, but where is the fourth heart.


Loving our daughter is the antithesis of loving our son, the love for both if them is more grandiose than I can express but loving my daughter doesn't hurt.   Now I can only hope as we smile, giggle, cuddle, coo, sing, babble, soothe, and love our way through each day with her that this is not the end of the line for us in the kid department.  I am officially addicted to loving my children in their own special yet equal ways. I want one more shot at this Earthly motherhood thing, I want the third child I have always dreamt I would have. I talk to Trey all the time about it.  I hope that as soon as he sent his little sister down to bless our lives that he went on a hunt for a little boy who would complete our family. For our daughter to have a sibling would mean so much, someone to go through life with, my heart wants her to be able to call him brother.


I will be beyond grateful to have another child, daughter OR son.  One might think I only want a boy so I can have the experiences I missed with our son, and that would be selfish, just to have a child to fulfill a void.  But I want a second boy to fulfill the dream I have had since childhood, before I married my best friend, before we spent our fourth wedding anniversary talking about our son's quality of life, or lack thereof, and how our love had to set him free, to go to heaven and not suffer anymore.  A third child will not make me or my life complete, nothing will, without Trey there will always be a void.  A third child would complete my dream, I would be able to beam about the three children I always wanted, a small concession for the sacrifice made for the love of our first born son. 

So I will keep hoping that Trey has a little one standing beside him in Heaven, waiting for the right time to send him...or her down just as our daughter waited with him until her time came.  I might not be entitled to my dreams, but I AM entitled to dream.


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Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Metaphor cures for writer's block...



So when I finally get to a point where I have time to gather my thoughts and write, all I am thinking about is marshmallows, they're white, fluffy, soft, and sweet, but like most anything in life, too many of them will leave one feeling saturated and weighed down...that's how I've been feeling lately.  I have enjoyed the white, fluffy, soft, and sweet aspects of life with our Rainbow Baby, but I feel weighed down and saturated with the sick feelings that come along with not having her brother here.

Living in the smiling, cooing, gurgling, giggling, peaceful, happily active moments with our daughter is easy.  It's when the sweet saturation is over, whether she's asleep or I am without her, that the sickness sets in.  I start wondering how those same moments I enjoy so much with her would play out with Trey, I'll never know, hence the sickly stomach feeling anyone can get after diving into too much sweetness.  I am so grateful for our daughter and the marshmallow goodness she feeds to my heart and soul, I used to have that solely with Trey, I still do remember him fondly, but I don't have the sweet living moments that I have with his sister...and that creates a sickly sadness.

Someone once said to me that now that I have our little girl, I can create new dreams, that the nightmare of losing our son is in the past.  I beg to differ, it is ever present and ever changing with each new day, especially with each new milestone we get enjoy with LL.  Losing him will ALWAYS be a nightmare, but having her proves that even in nightmares, there is a point when we are awakened to find that it is only a nightmare and not all encompassing. 

Such is the truth with my marshmallow metaphor, or lame attempt at one anyway...by diving into the sweet moments with our daughter, there's bound to be some not so sweet moments of remembering Trey as he was, never enjoying those same moments with him. 

I can only hope I am not robbing LL of anything by lamenting over her big brother, I can't help it, he still is my child, and doesn't every parent think on their child, not matter what state of life? 

I am immediately reminded of that pendulum concept, which me not remembering what it's called would drive my husband nuts, but it's when they say "each action has and equal and opposite reaction", that's what it's like.  As much as we enjoy and love our daughter and all of her growth and health, when the pendulum swings back to Trey, it's an equal reaction, just a different feeling, and opposite feeling.  Whereas my heart warms and fills with our daughter, it seems like it breaks all over again for my son.  The silence in mid swing is deafening, I wish I could enjoy them both the same...maybe 100 years from now in Heaven, when I hold all of my babies together, until then I am the pendulum, or is it the marshmallow?