Someone asked me where I came up with the name "Heart in the Clouds." I didn't, even a little. I blatantly stole it from the name of this blog background. When this was a simple pregnancy blog (that was supposed to turn into a baby blog and a mommy blog and all that), I had a darling owl background. I had to change it in order for me to continue posting here...it was far too cheery, far too attached to my pregnancy, and far too...alive for me to use. So I went to ShabbyBlogs.com to find a more appropriate one. I debated between a few different options, but when I saw this one and saw the name of it, my heart caught in my throat. "Heart in the Clouds." That's exactly how I feel. So I not only used the background, but I kept the name as the name of the new blog.
Today started out pretty rough. Chris and I fought a little. I'm the queen of sarcastic comments, and sometimes since this all happened really awful ones slip out. Example: He handed me some papers, I asked if they were trash, and he (very) jokingly said, "Yes, I wouldn't give you anything important to hold!" Note that this is referencing my well-known and acknowledged habit of doing things like losing the remote while watching TV without having moved even an inch. I refuse to hold tickets to movies, even if I only have to walk five feet from the counter to the ticket guy for fear of losing them in those 10 steps. So this was not a mean comment and something we've joked about many, many times. This time, though, my response? "Yeah...I wouldn't either. Look what I did with the last important thing you gave me to hold onto."
Yeah. That's rough and truly not helpful to either of us. I'm trying to catch them - I know it hurts him when I respond like that, and it certainly doesn't make me feel better either.
Is anyone else just not sure how they are supposed to grieve? Obviously being a "snarky bitch" (as it's been called) isn't conducive to a healthy grieving process. I kind of want to go break some plates or shoot a gun or smash up a car or something. That'd be something - a demolition derby full of moms who lost their babies. Lots of anger there...we'd kick ass.
I think my milk is coming in. Yay! Milk for a baby that isn't here! (Eeek...there's that snarky bitch!) My boobs hurt really bad yesterday and seemed to get even larger, so yesterday and today I'm wearing two tight sports bras on top of each other and trying not to touch them. Between this and the bleeding, it's like my body is doing everything it can to keep my mind firmly on our loss.
Another bit of awesomeness? I made my follow up appointment yesterday, for tomorrow. This morning I realized that tomorrow I would have been 20 weeks, exactly, and it was when our big, exciting ultrasound was originally scheduled for. So instead of a happy, thrilling visit to the OB to find out if we're having a boy or a girl, I get to go to the same office to make sure that my uterus is properly contracting down to size after delivering our son. I have a feeling that tomorrow at 2pm I will be having my first public meltdown at the doctor's office.
I left the house for the first time today. We've been doing some spring cleaning to help keep busy and keep our minds off everything, and we managed to fill up six bags full of clothes to go to the Goodwill. Of course, once you start cleaning your house, you start seeing everything that needs to be replaced or updated, so we went up to Home Depot to check out new windows and some storage systems. I was totally fine, and the BOOM. In the checkout lane there was a mom and dad with a 7ish month old baby...AND she was heavily pregnant. Seriously? A baby AND a pregnant lady, all at once? I'm proud of myself that I didn't burst into tears, but it definitely ripped something loose in my heart. It seems like there are pregnant women and babies everywhere - all over the TV and even the super mindless celebrity gossip sites I visit sometimes (okay, almost every day. But...don't judge me, okay?). But at least with those, I can close the site or change the channel. What can you do in the middle of Home Depot? It's like life from now on needs to come with a giant, flashing TRIGGER WARNING sign.
So, all around me life goes on. There were people shopping at Home Depot, people driving down the street, neighbors coming home from work, and none of them know. I feel like shouting to them all, "MY BABY DIED. I DON'T HAVE A BABY. I LOST MY SON. MY ONLY CHILD. I HAD A SON NAMED CALEB."
I'm sure eventually I'll forgive people for not knowing, but right now it feels like they're all jerkfaces.