Aaaah, new book pile

Although I have been trying to use the library more, sometimes it’s just so nice to get some new books you don’t have to return (I’m a bit notorious for late fees).

Lucky for me, Hubs and my mom gifted me some new books/B&N gift cards for Christmas and my birthday, so I’ve now got a whole delightful stack waiting to be read!

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I’ll let you know how they are!

I’ve also now got a newly refurbished waiting-in-the-wings book list for when I need to start up with the library again. Here are a few from that list:

The Someday Jar — Allison Morgan

This is How it Always is — Laurie Frankel

The Hate U Give — Angie Thomas

Sugar — Kimberly Stuart

Marilla of Green Gables — Sarah McCoy

The Shadows We Hide — Allen Eskens

The Bookshop — Penelope Fitzgerald

In Her Bones — Kate Moretti

The Home for Unwanted Girls — Joanna Goodman

…and several teacher-y books šŸ™‚

A backlog of books

Over the past few months, I’ve been trying to utilize my local(ish) library more often and make sure I always had a book going. I like to think my habit of reading before bed helps my stress level :-). At any rate, here are some books I’ve read recently(ish) that I would recommend:

The Best Kind of People by Zoe Whittall

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Amazon

I wouldn’t call this a “feel-good” book, but it makes you think and I think the story is told well. The book is told from differing viewpoints of several characters throughout the plot. Some you immediately dislike, as I imagine you’re supposed to, but some you are just rooting so hard for to figure their lives out.

The Sweetness of Forgetting by Kristin Harmel

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Goodreads

This is an easier read, but engaging and sweet and nice to have if you’re a right-before-bed reader like me.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris

Tattooist

Barnes and Noble

Historical fiction based on actual testimony from a tattooist in the concentration camps during WWII. A thinking book for sure, but one where hope is overarching.

 

I’ve also read several books in the Tracy Crosswhite series by Robert Dugoni. Normally I’m not a huge series reader, but these are pretty good, especially when I get an itch for a suspenseful read. https://www.robertdugonibooks.com/books

I know there aren’t many recommendations here, but many of the books I’ve read in November/December were mainly pass-the-time reads…as I like to think we allĀ have from time to time.

 

(From the unfinished drafts archive) — I am 1 in 4

(I started this post back in October, because it was pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. I never quite finished it, but it’s real for how I felt at the time (and some days still do) so I thought I’d share it with you):

I am 1 in 4. I never wanted to be. I never thought I would be. I never got a choice. I never got a reason. And I never will. But I’m stuck in the flippin’ club no matter what.

I constantly struggle with whether to speak or keep letting others just swim along. I started this blog because I didn’t feel like I could be honest about everything I was going through on Facebook. I still don’t feel like I can be on that platform.

But 6 months and a second pregnancy later, the ignorance of people when it comes to miscarriage still angers me.

My dear acquaintance, it’s so good to know you…

…for strength of your hand, that is loving, and giving; and Happy New Year, with love overflowing, with joy in our hearts for a blessed new year… — Regina Spektor

Happy 2019, blogosphere! I know I’ve been MIA for essentially two months, and I’ll get to that. But first, I just want to shout out into the void that having this space where I can share (often unfiltered) with all of you, some of you, or none of you, has been so important to my psychological well-being as I weathered the shit-storm that 2018 wrought upon my heart.

Yesterday, for the first time in quite awhile, I got out Charlie’s memory box. As the year came to a close, I felt like I needed to revisit it. As you all know, there is never a moment when Charlie isn’t in my heart, but it was important to me to go through the tangible reminders. And lordy-be as soon as I opened that box the emotions overwhelmed me and the crying started; but strangely, I kind of appreciated that — y’know? I went through the sonograms, pregnancy announcement and congrats cards, the lone onesie and the baby boots, and then theĀ condolence cards and gifts. One pendant stood out to me, just like it had when I received it; it says, “I carry you in my heart”. It’s from an ee cummings poem that I’ve always liked, though until Charlie it held different meaning for me. When I read those words again yesterday, they just seemed extra poignant. Because I do — I carry Charlie in my heart. As much as I wanted to, for reasons I’ll never quite know, I couldn’t carry him in my body. So, my heart is where he’ll stay.

It’s kind of odd, because the closer we get to bringing our Birdy baby into the world, the more I think about how she wouldn’t be here if not for Charlie. I struggle with that sometimes, because if I had been given a choice, if any maybe-mama like me had had an actual choice — how the hell would we have decided which child we lost? Every now and then I ponder if that’s why the choice wasn’t ours to make.

And then I think too, about how we’ll tell Birdy about Charlie someday. I wonder how you go about that, because Hubs and I decided pretty immediately that Charlie isn’t a secret we would be keeping from any other children we may have. I keep coming back to this: “Before you, there was another child. He helped to give us you.” I mean, hopefully by the time we share this story with her I’ll have something better prepared, but that’s where I’m at right now.

Speaking of Birdy, here’s her update: With the fear hanging over our heads about what the low amniotic fluid levels might mean for her and the pregnancy, we were referred to a maternal fetal specialist, who did manage to take the edge of the worry — a bit. A week before Christmas, at a follow-up appointment with them, we got the good news that the levels had reached the “average” range, and were no longer considered low! At the same time, we learned that I had failed the glucose test spectacularly and now had gestational diabetes. Trading one worry for another.

Holy crap, can I tell you how awful I felt? Emotionally, not physically. I was shocked when they told me about the GD because I hadn’t felt “off” in any way, had barely gained five pounds the entire pregnancy, and never experienced the swelling everyone kept saying would come at the end of the second trimester. Oh, but emotionally, I was an absolute mess. I felt immensely guilty, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong — I felt like I couldn’t do anything right no matter how hard I tried, like my body was letting me down once again, like there were a mass litany of things that were just wrong with me and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I went to a class to gain more information and learn how to control the GD with a very strict diet (oh my God, there are carbs in EVERYTHING — no longer are fruits and veggies just considered “healthy”, now you can’t have them before X-time and then only if you eat X kind, etc.). The grocery store became a minefield that could easily start a meltdown on my end because I was trying so hard to follow all of the rules to control the GD but I was so overwhelmed! But I just kept telling myself that if I followed the rules, my blood sugar levels would be fine and everything else would be fine. I mean, that’s the way things are supposed to work! Except it wasn’t because no matter what I did my morning fasting and ketone levels where high. So then they put me on medicine to help those stabilize (which they are and I’m grateful for) but it just felt like one more damn thing I’d failed at.

[I know I’m complaining; I know others have it so much worse; but that doesn’t mean this isn’t still hard for me.]

Here comes the sun though — The doctors said despite all of this, Birdy is doing fine. She’s right where she should be growth and development-wise. As she’s growing and getting stronger, I’ve finally been able to feel her move around, which is such a blessing because it lets me know she still kicking in there (get it?). Last night, Hubs even got to feel her move, which was so great, because she’s been a bit contrary about that every time we’ve tried before!

So, that’s what I’m trying to focus on the most — she is okay, and that’s the most important thing. As Hubs reminded my tear-stained self yesterday when I was flipping 2018 the bird, it was a really difficult year of loss and grief and storm weathering — but 2018 also gave us two-thirds of Birdy. And there’s no arguing with the blessing of that!

Happy New Year, and better times ahead for us all!

Placental lakes are not a vacation destination

Have you ever heard of these? I certainly had not, until this week. Because apparently, I have them. Yippee for me. Want to know what they are? Pools of blood in the placenta. Lovely.

Guess what else? I have low amniotic fluid and in almost a month it doesn’t seem like Birdy has changed positions.

She’s growing, thank goodness, for now — but these new developments are pretty effing concerning and I’m kind of pissed at the universe. Come on! Couldn’t you just have tossed me a gimme for this pregnancy? Couldn’t you have let us get through it with the anxiety we already possessed and not piled on more? COME ON!

So I’m off work for two days while I continuously guzzle fluid and rest to see if that makes a positive difference in the fluid level. Because with the way this school year is, there is no way I could meet that criteria and still go to work. We go in for another ultrasound shortly to see if it’s made any difference.

The placental lakes, it seems, are there to stay — nothing to be done.

Just slightly unnerving.

I’ll be busy trying to avoid the internet rabbit hole of information that will terrify me.

Birth Days

Yesterday was Charlie’s due date. What was estimated to have been his birthday. I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking of Charlie more as a boy. Having a pronoun to use is comforting, so I think I’ll just go with it for now.

I’d put in for a personal day for 11/7 almost as soon as school started up again. I didn’t know how I would feel on his due date, so I thought it best if I just stayed home. That way, no matter how the day ended up being, I wouldn’t have to struggle to keep it together all day long.

What was funny, in an odd and unexpected way, was how I didn’t feel devastated or bereft all day long. I had intended to spend time looking through the box I’d put together of the small amount of things we had that represented his short existence, but I didn’t. I may still do that today though. If he had been born yesterday, it would have a been a beautiful autumn day for him to enter the world.

I’ve been thinking too about how this sort of loss just becomes a part of you. My baby died. And when I think about that, I don’t think about it in terms of “fetal tissue” or whatever clinical terms exist. He was my baby, and he died, and when that happened, I had no idea how I would make it through the darkest grief I have ever experienced. I knew I would, but I didn’t know the path to get there. To get here. Where I can think about him, and what happened, and not break down.

My baby died, and there is absolutely no getting around that. It isn’t something that can be fixed, and it isn’t something I will ever have an answer for. I still get sad, and angry — of course I do. Those are pieces of me now, just like Charlie is. I still feel guilty. I think about things we did last spring, when he had already died, but we didn’t know it. I wonder how the hell I didn’t know. And even though there isn’t a single thing I could have done to change what happened, I am still so sorry.

Oh, wait. Here comes the crying.

If Charlie had lived, his birth day would have been a monumental event. A defining point in our life. I’d be completely exhausted from labor, and, I like to think, completely elated and in love with the new life I’d brought into the world. Instead, I’m fighting like hell to get his sister here safely. To do for her what I couldn’t do for him. And it’s a weird juxtaposition.

Happy Birthday, my first baby. I will never stop wondering who you would have been. But I am so grateful for the time we had you, for making my way through your loss, for everything I’ve learned because of you. I love you always.