Again

I was told that I need to blog more often, and that I need to be less depressing. 

Well, this blog will at least increase my frequency, I suppose.  But I can't say much for the depressing aspect.

I'm not going to talk about this year.  Not right now.  This year has been the ....

No. I said I wasn't going to discuss it. 

However, you may remember the post from last October.  Next week is the ceremony again in the park.  I'm looking forward to it.  In my own sick, sad way, I'm looking forward to it.

Last year helped me tremendously.  Publicly acknowledging that I lost babies.  Saying "yes, I lost. I hurt. They were real.  They ARE real".  Being with people who understand my loss.  Well, as much as I can understand theirs.  Even when we read the same book, we take away different messages.

Today I had lunch with a friend that I've known since second grade.  I love her.  I don't see her nearly enough, but each time it's as if I just saw her yesterday.  We talked a bit about my loss and I said how I wish that there wasn't still a stigma.  Well, those weren't my exact words, but here are my thoughts:

People are STILL under the idea that they must wait 12 weeks before they tell anyone they're pregnant.  Maybe a whisper in two or three ears, but not really spreading the word.  Make sure they're "safe".  Into the second trimester.

I say bull.  BULL. 

You're supposed to keep this all a secret just in case you lose the baby.  So as to not upset your friends and family.  So that you suffer alone.  Cry alone.  Grieve alone.  Wonder if it was all real or if you were fooling yourself.  Have people wonder why you're being weepy and mopey. 

This is so stupid.  I could've used the support each and every time I lost a baby.  My ex husband didn't know how to properly support me either.  I know that it's hard for the men.  I know that.  And nobody has words that will completely fix.  Nothing said will put that baby back.  But a support system is so vital.

I look forward to next week.  I will bring my camera again.  I will bring balloons this time. 

I have taken some personal steps to talk about my babies.  My friends have been phenomenal.  I am still trying to realize and believe that they are real.  They were real.  Just because I didn't get to have a print out ultrasound, see them, hear them, hold them, smell them, kiss them, hear their cries....doesn't mean they weren't real.

I love them all.  I miss them all.  Next Tuesday I will publicly remember them all.

Again.

Little Peeks Into You

I get super pumped when I get to see inside people.  I try to read them as best as I can, but there are things that tell you more about a person than what they say or how they act.

Since I don't have xray vision or an xray machine, I wait for other opportunities.

*their desk
*their purse
*their car
*their house

Seriously.  I love seeing these things.

I don't snoop.  I never poke around.  I feel I should put those disclaimers out there.

I like to see if they have family, if they have any quotes, what sort of bric-a-brac they have on their desks.  Is their desk slightly cluttered or neat piles? What do they have to drink or eat?  Candy choices?  It can show me if they're a little more uptight and business or perhaps a bit more relaxed.

Purses!  PURSES!!!!  I love bags of all kinds.  Period.  So, #1-I just love to see a good bag.  #2- Is it neat and clean and organized?  Do you have change and receipts and 27 different lipsticks?  Are you matchy matchy or kind of eclectic?   Your type of purse can also tell me if you're a mom, business, pleasure, out for the night, trying too hard, good with old faithful, not up for change, etc.

I am in my car a lot.  I don't clean out my car.  Well, I do, but I don't.  I am not good at it.  I mean, sure I have the ability, I just don't make the effort.  Do I judge the insides of others' cars?  A little.  Not like, "Wow, man, you need to find a garbage can. NOW."  But what they have in it.   I have probably 30 cds in my car in cases right now and another 15 or so in my visor holder.  I have photo "stuff" that never made it back in my house.  I have cat litter that never made it in my house.  I have mail. I have booze in my trunk.  I have a light jacket.  A shovel. A few books.  Stuff that I've picked up here and there and then I'm too tired to bring it in my house or I have my hands full and I deem it unworthy for two trips at this moment.

And then I have trash.  Wrappers. Napkins. Bottles. Cans. Old mail. Notes.  I try to grab what I can when I move my car during the day, but I still leave bottles and cans that can be recycled in my car so I can recycle them later.  Then I never quite make it to a recycling receptacle   I almost drove around back last night when I got home to put it in my recycling can in the alley, but didn't.

When I look in someone else's car and see the McDonald's wrappers, cups, cans, whatever, I want to grab it for them and toss it.  But I don't want to make them feel bad.  And maybe they like it.  I don't know.  I love to see if they're reading a book, if they've got a new cd they're listening to, what their presets are for the radio.

But their house.  Going into someone's house tells me pages.

Are they Suzy Homemaker (either naturally or because they feel they have to be)?
Do they have NO MESS and say, "Oh!  Sorry the house is a sty!" when they have three articles of mail on the counter, a pair of shoes or two and a blanket on the couch?
Are their walls bare?
Do they have piles of stuff, a bit of clutter here and there?
BOOKSHELVES are a gold mine.  I love to see what they have read in the past, or have acquired to read in the future.
The pictures they have chosen to frame.  And the pictures they put on their fridge.  Speaks volumes to me.
Is it well lived in?  Does it feel like HOME?
I love to see their dishes.
Their music collection.
If there's stuff everywhere.  (I actually like this.  Makes me feel better about myself as my house usually has stuff everywhere, and it also tells me that they're comfortable enough with me to let me see this side.)

I can't really explain exactly what I derive from these things, but I feel like it explains so much to me.  It really floors me at times though to think I know someone and then see inside one of those things and it doesn't "Fit" for me.  It turns a light bulb on and tells me there's more to find out about my friend.

What do my purse, desk, car, house say about me?

I'm
* eclectic.
* laid back.
* quirky.
* organized and unorganized at the same time.  How this is even possible, I do not know.
* family is important.
* friends are important.
* love my animals.
* busy.
* messy.
* cluttery.
* colorful.
* broke in.
* crafty.
* musical.

Maybe more.

Anyone else like this?

Today....

"October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Join us at 5:30pm today at German Park to honor ALL of our children who are no longer with us. No matter the reason nor the amount of time, we grieve with you."

My friend hosted the 8th Annual event at German Park tonight in memory of all the lost babies for National  Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.   I haven't gone in the past as I wasn't sure how my beliefs would conflict or compare to what everyone else's beliefs are.  The different things people have said to me over the past nine years have shocked me, saddened me, belittled me.   I know that "no one can make you feel anything" but some comments have also made me feel like my babies were not babies.  They didn't count.  I don't want to dwell on that....

Today was the first time that I publicly acknowledged my loss.  Yes, I've talked about it to Doctors, a few friends, online.  That is not the same.  It wasn't the same.  Tonight, with nine other people, I shed tears for what has been, what could have been, what should have been.  I know that is a slippery slope: the coulda, woulda, shouldas....but I feel this is different.  Because it was, it just is no longer...

Today I wrote on a balloon a special message.  Will someone find that balloon? Perhaps.  Did anyone in the group see what I wrote? Perhaps.  I told two of my friends what I wrote.  I will show you.

I've always thought the first baby was a boy.  Simply a feeling.  And dreams that I have a son that I "forgot about".

I know I will see my babies again.  I know what God has planned.  My heart hurts today, though.  My arms feel empty.  My house is missing a piece.  A huge piece.

It's so bizarre to think that I would have a 4th grader right now.  My baby would be nine in a couple of months.  Well, hmm, with the birthday, maybe I'd have a 3rd grader.  Either way.... my heart aches.

Today a candle was lit and handed to me.  Today I let a balloon go.  Today I cried with strangers.  Today I cried with friends.  Today I acknowledged publicly....

...they are all real babies.
...I am a broken woman.
...I still hurt.
...I still cry.
...that I think the first baby was a boy.  That was really important to me to whisper out loud.

And today I think silently about all of my friends who have suffered along with me the pain of miscarriages, those whose babies were born still, those whose babies took a few breaths, those whose babies .... any babies....

To all of my friends who have had to endure the loss of a child, I love you, I care for you, I ache for you.