One Year

It's frankly impossible to believe that one year ago today I delivered Caleb. Impossible in every way - how did I survive a full year after my baby died? How has it been that long? How hasn't it already been a lifetime?

Happy birthday, tiny man. I miss you.

Roller coaster

And that's how it goes in the life of a DBM*.

Up.

Then down.

Then up.

Then down.

High on top of the world one minute when you're feeling confident in the future, then completely gutted the next minute when you read about it happening for a second time to someone else.

Today should have been the first day of my third trimester. I should be huge. I was already huge! I should be huge-er. I really, really miss being pregnant. I really, really hate milestone days like this. I really, really hate that I still have these days in my head and that they're still marked on my calendar (even though they're scratched out...I still know what is under those heavy pen marks). I should make it through the rest of the summer without a date like this slapping me in the face; other than Caleb's due date this was the last big milestone.

Up.

Then down.

*Dead baby mama.

One Month

It's been one month since you were born, Caleb.

It's been one month since you died, Caleb.

I miss having you safe inside me. I miss thinking about what the future would hold for you. I miss imagining what your nursery would look like - I had everything all picked out. I miss anticipating this Christmas - our first Christmas together as a family. I miss wondering what you would have looked like. Would my brown eyes and brown hair beat out your dad's light hair and beautiful blue eyes? Would you be tall, like me? Fair-skinned like your dad?

Most of all, though, I miss you.

There were a lot of big events that came together this week in the perfect storm of making me lose it. Sunday, Mother's Day. Today, one month anniversary. Friday, I would have been 24 weeks, the time when chances were good you'd be able to live outside me. Yesterday that all came together and I almost had a panic attack. My chest got tight and I couldn't breathe, I felt lightheaded, like I might throw up. I had to call one of my best friends to talk me down.

I want you back, baby boy. I want you to be a physical presence in my life every day, not just a memory.

How do I reconcile what was the worst time of my life - your death - with what was the best time of my life - getting to meet you?

I'm reading a book that describes losing someone like this:

"When someone dies, it feels like the hole in your gum when a tooth falls out. You can chew, you can eat, you have plenty of other teeth, but your tongue keeps going back to that empty place, where all the nerves are still a little raw."

Caleb, I miss you every day. I will always miss you. Even ten years from now, when I'm playing with your little brothers and sisters and I'm not grieving every moment, I'll miss you.

Love you so much, little guy.

One week ago

One week ago I was happily pregnant, sitting in our recliner on bedrest, POSITIVE that I would be one of those lucky people who had their water break early but made it to full term. Of course I would be, why on earth wouldn't it be me? I was doing everything right. Only getting up to pee, drinking tons of liquids, eating healthy, staying positive, repeating my mantras and positive affirmations, taking loads of vitamins. We had brand new sheets on the bed, washed everything we owned, had hand sanitizer at every turn, and I'd nabbed a few boxes of those infamous mesh panties from the hospital so I could change them every time I went to the bathroom. The house has never been so clean and there was no way infection was coming anywhere near me. I'd already passed the critical 48 hour mark and was half way to the 10 day milestone. There was no way I wouldn't make it, right?

Little did I know that in just three short hours I'd start to feel contractions (which I would initially pass off as indigestion).

In seven hours I'd be firmly in the throes of labor.

In eight hours I'd be in the hospital.

In twelve hours Caleb would be born.

Caleb Anthony

Our son Caleb Anthony was born at 1:55am on April 12, 2010. He lived for about 20 minutes and was beautiful.

13 weeks - and an ultrasound!

Yesterday I officially entered the second trimester AND had the best day of this pregnancy so far - Chris and I got to see the baby! We had our NT scan (which screens for abnormalities like Down's Syndrome or Trisomy 13/18), and part of the screening involved an ultrasound. It was the first time Chris has gotten to see the baby, and he was memorized. Little Bowser was doing all sorts of acrobatics - flipping around, bouncing up and down, waving...it was absolutely amazing. I can't TELL you how amazing. I wish we had a video of it. Here's a picture of her or him waving:


For you non-ultrasound techs out there, the head is the oval on the left, the body is the larger oval on the lower right, and the little arm is sticking out of the body at a 90 degree angle, with the hand by the face.

Or here's the annotated version for those of you who still see gray and black blotches against a gray and black background:


I'll add more pictures when I actually get the pics scanned instead of just taking a picture of a picture with my phone.

We also scheduled our next ultrasound, where, if baby cooperates, we get to find out if it's a boy or a girl!! April 16!

13 weeks

On Monday, I'll officially be out of the first trimester, no matter which calendar you use. You'd think after ten thousand years of humanity there would be some set standard, but no...apparently every site and doctor calculates it differently. Some sites say 12 weeks, some say 13, some say 13 weeks 3 days, and some say the end of 13 weeks. One even says 14 weeks 5 days, but I'm ignoring that entirely. The standard seems to be 13 weeks 3 days, so I'm going with that calculation. So MONDAY! Monday is also a huge day for us because it's the day of our first official ultrasound. Obviously I had one at 6 weeks for the ER visit, but Chris wasn't there, and let's be honest....it was essentially a jelly bean. A jelly bean with a heartbeat, yes, but still a jelly bean. Assuming all goes well, this time we should see a baby! A miniature, three inch baby. I could not be more excited...and nervous. This ultrasound checks for chromosomal abnormalities like Down's Syndrome. While we have no history of anything like that on either side of our families (well, Chris's cousin, but that might be more of a twin complication than anything else), it's still completely nerve wracking to wait for the results. Chris and I haven't really talked too much about what we'd do if there were abnormal results. I think if the results strongly indicated that there could be an issue, we'd move forward with an amnio. And if that also indicated a problem? God forbid...but I don't know. We'll cross that bridge when (hopefully never) we come to it.

What else? I'm DEFINITELY showing. Before, I could write it off as bloat. But now...well, the top of my stomach under my chest is starting to pop out a big. There's a hard little area just above my belly button - I know it's not the baby yet, but I'm assuming that some organ has decided to come vacation under my ribs.

Lastly, on Tuesday I got to hear the heartbeat at the doctor's. I had bright red spotting (this kid is really gunning for the pony) over the weekend, and while I was initially able to reassure myself by finding the heartbeat with the doppler, on Monday night I could no longer find it. Obviously, I panicked. I'd just been able to find it that morning...what could possibly have changed in less than 12 hours that would suddenly make me not be able to hear it? The last three or four times I'd tried, I'd been able to locate it in less than five minutes. On Monday night I tried for 30 or 40 minutes and couldn't find it. I won't go into detail about the crying fits I went through that day and the next day, but needless to say there were quite a bit. I called the doctor Tuesday morning, honestly expecting to hear them reassure me that the home doppler might not be as sensitive or that the baby might have moved, but instead the nurse asked me to come in as soon as possible. Honestly, that was not the response I expected at all and it absolutely terrified me. You'd think after the pain at 6 weeks and the spotting at 8 and being reassured that everything was okay despite those issues that I'd start to be less nervous, but no. Apparently you start to get attached to the little tumor growing inside you as the days go on...who knew?

I got to the appointment and met another of the midwives, who was supposed to be Pam, but in retrospect I don't think that's what her nametag said. If only there was a way I could use my computer to look it up....too bad no one has invented a way to keep information accessible, say over a global system of networked computers, via just a few keystokes. I'll just have to use my Jedi mind power instead. A ha! Her name was Heather. I really liked her a lot. Neither Chris nor my mom could go to the appointment, so I called Carol and she was able to meet me. Thank god, because if it had been bad news, I don't think I would have been able to be by myself. Pam Heather put the doppler on my belly and after a few minutes, the room filled up with the amazing, wonderful sound of the baby's heartbeat. Holy cow, I was so relieved.

So now, I just wait until Monday to hopefully see that all is well with the little one. Keep growing, baby!

8 weeks and counting!

Ok, beaner, I've about had it with your antics. I was (am) so, so, so excited to reach the 8 week milestone...and you have to temper it with spotting? Really? Baby, I don't even know you yet, but you're being kind of a jerk to your mama. Are you just preparing me for when you're a toddler and you are falling down stairs and being so contrary? Because it worked...I'm ready! Now how about smooth sailing the last 32 weeks? Please? Pretty please? I promise lenience when I catch you sneaking out at 18! A pony when you're 12. A cell phone* at 8. Ice cream every day for dessert! Just BE GOOD!

I love you, little dude or dudette. Just keep growing, all right? Do we have a deal?

* Or whatever new technology your generation is into. A teleporter device, perhaps.

Six weeks! Woot woot!

The first big milestone is here! Today we're I'm six weeks pregnant. Way to go, little embryo!

I've been freaking myself out verily with online message boards, about which I can only say one thing: Stay. The. Eff. AWAY. Yes, pregnancy and childbirth is a miracle, blah blah blah, but on some of those boards, you'd think it was a miracle tantamount to the parting of the Red Sea, rather than a miracle that is performed by millions of woman (and the occasional man) each year. I realize that miscarriage is a very real possibility, but wow. On those boards you'd truly think that mankind was destined for extinction. Case in point: I asked a question, and one person replied, "Well, I had a blighted ovum at six weeks and another time I went in for my ultrasound at 12 weeks and there was no heartbeat. So enjoy your pregnancy."

Um.

Thanks?

No, really - I get that it might happen. But as someone else so perfectly put it, "No matter how you look at it, YOU HAVE A MUCH BETTER CHANCE OF HAVING A HEALTHY PREGNANCY THAN MISCARRYING."

Duh! I had convinced myself that something going wrong was the norm and that I - nor anyone! - would ever be able to have a baby. But obviously that's not the case.

But regardless, the chance of anything happening does go down a bit at the six week mark, more at the 8 week mark, and becomes virtually nil at 12 weeks. So hitting six weeks was a huge relief, though I won't be full relieved, like....ever. Did you know at the end of this there's an actual tiny helpless PERSON that I am responsible for keeping alive for a minimum of eighteen years?? Yeah. It's true. Tell me again what I was thinking??

--L