Letters For Lucas

Wonders, Mishaps, Blunders and Joy.. commentary on my life as a mom in the form of letters to my son

Being Human

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This week I received two birth announcements, learned that three friends are newly pregnant and to really rub it in, a darling new baby boutique just opened down the street from my house. Don’t even get me started on the Duggar’s.

Seriously, it is enough to push me right over the edge, but I won’t let it.

This year I suffered two miscarriages, my third and fourth, one in January and one in November. The latter was via IVF. Nice way to bookend the year, huh?

I’m allowed to be a little edgy, aren’t I?

Before this gets too ranty, I am truly happy for my friends and their new little bundles of joy and very excited for the others that are anticipating their second, third and FOURTH children.

I am also more grateful than words could ever express for my son, Lucas. He is a gift and some days I think if it weren’t for his smiling little face, I don’t know what I would do.

And to set the record straight, I don’t really feel as though anything is being “rubbed in my face”. Not intentionally anyway. Good news is meant to be shared and I love good news!

I have a deeper respect for my friend Coreen, who called to tell me about her new addition personally. Thank you, Coreen, I’m wishing you nothing but the best. xoxo

I’m just sad and frustrated and confused and completely inpatient. Not to mention, angry at my body’s unwillingness to cooperate one more time. I’m only human and I know that my feelings are normal, but DAMN IT, I hate that I have them. I hate that I feel like a failure. I hate not knowing what’s wrong, I hate the aging process and what it does to your reproductive system, I hate having my nerves on full alert, I hate doctor’s offices, shots, blood draws, waiting, worrying [please stop me anytime], but I mostly hate grieving for someone I’ve never even met.

HOWEVER, at the end of the day I remain hopeful and I know someday, somehow, I will have good news of my own to share.

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Heartbeat

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I am 10 minutes early.

After signing my name on the first available line, I sit and wait.

Deliberately I thumb through magazines, one after the other as families of four smile up at me from the glossy pages.

It’s finally my turn.

I am ushered to a dark room and asked to undress.

The image on the large screen above me is fuzzy, difficult to make out and yet somehow I know.

My hands begin to sweat and I am holding my breath.

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.”

A sound I have never made before escapes my throat.


This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt: Conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season – whatever you like. But don’t tell me what it is, conjure it. 100 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

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A Second Child

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There was a time when my husband and I wanted to have (gulp) three children, but chances are with more than one miscarriage and my our advancing age, that won’t be happening. We are hopeful that we will have at least one more…

We are currently in the throes of deciding when the perfect time is to have another baby, so I love hearing how other couples reached this decision and how it affected their threesome, which is why I invited Jessica of My Time As Mom here today.

Jessica has become my late night Scrabble friend and I love reading about her two adorable little girls. Jessica’s youngest is Lucas’ age, so we spend a lot of time commiserating comparing notes with one another over nap time, bedtime and toddlerhood.

Please welcome, Jessica!

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For five years life was spent with one child. My daughter was the center of attention, the joy of our lives, and the beginning of my gray hair.

My husband and I both worked full time and I was also going to college full time. Life was busy but we were still able to spend time as a family, just the three of us.

But we talked; we talked a lot about having a second child. We thought we could afford another kid. We thought we would have enough love for an addition to our family.

But we also thought what the hell are we thinking?

Our daughter was five. She could feed herself. She slept through the night. She was potty trained. I could sleep late in the mornings.

She was almost in school and the daycare bills had an end in sight – finally.

We would be starting all over.

Being pregnant again, my body growing and stretching after I worked so hard to get it back to normal after the first child. Our life would be filled with sleepless nights, diaper changing, baby crying, and car seat carrying. Money would be spent on countless baby accessories instead of designer jeans and flip-flops (for me of course).

Did we really want to give up the freedoms we had spent years gaining back as our daughter became older?

The truth – yes, we did want to give up these things. We wanted a second child. We wanted our oldest to have a sibling to share her life with just as my husband and I both had as kids. We wanted another person in our family and we wanted to start all over again.

So we did. And we have never regretted the decision.

Will we have a third?

No freaking way!!

I urge you to follow Jessica on Twitter and Facebook and look for her posts: Bedtime with a Toddler Sucks, because it’s hilarious and Cheater Cheater, in which she admits to cheating at Scrabble and yet, I still play with her every night. Hmmm.

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In Treatment

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I have been dreading writing about this because I haven’t got my head fully wrapped around it yet, so please bear with me and as always, any words of advice and/or comfort that you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

Shortly after my parents died, I was somewhat desperate to help my sister find a psychologist to help her with her grief and in the process contacted a doctor that I saw for a while leading up to and after my divorce from my first husband.

I still feel bamboozled by her receptionist when she asked me “what about you?”. To which, I of course replied, “what do you mean, ‘what about me’?”.

Before I knew it I was seeing the good doctor again once a week for almost a year, half a dozen times leading up to Lucas’ arrival and it’s now been eight months since my last appointment.

I need her again.

I am a big proponent of therapy. I believe working with a professional can help provide insight, support and new strategies for all types of life challenges. In the past it has helped me immensely and I am lucky to have a doctor that I trust and respect. Dr. K. is a family therapist and specializes in family and marital counseling, stress management and grief.

Since spring, I haven’t been myself and it’s time to do something about it.

I’m moodier than usual, short tempered, forgetful, disheveled, anxious and confused. I sound like a toddler, huh?

Depression is a real illness and while I have never been clinically diagnosed as “depressed”, I have a laundry list of reasons for why I might be. It could be because it’s October now, which is a hard month for being the anniversary of my parents deaths, if I’m, as I’ve shared before, still getting used to my (not so) new role of mother, if I’m struggling with my summer miscarriage, or more than likely a combination of all three and a bunch of other junk too. Whatever IT is, I don’t like feeling this way and I am anxious to get back in treatment.

I’m no good at “faking it” or keeping my feelings at bay. They come out in the strangest ways and don’t want my negativity to ever affect Lucas. Not to mention, I have too much goodness in my life to feel this way.

My first appointment is next week and I have two additional appointments after that. From time to time, when appropriate I’ll update you. In the meantime, your good thoughts are welcome. Let the self discovery and growth begin.

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This post was written for the word game, Word Up, Yo!hosted by the self proclaimed Nerd Mafia: Natalie (Mommy of a Monster), Kristin (Taming Insanity) and Liz (a belle, a bean and a chicago dog).


If you like words too, play along!
This week’s word is bamboozled.

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A Love Letter

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Three years ago, I married my partner, lover and friend.

In just three short years, we have experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

A month and a half after we got married, my father-in-law underwent heart surgery for a congenital heart defect. He made it through with flying colors and today is better than ever, but this was a very emotional time for us as newlyweds.

A month later, both of my parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning while living and working as educators in Tunis, Tunisia. My husband was amazing during this, the saddest and most confusing time in my life. He took my younger sister and I under his wing and helped us plan a double funeral, a trip to Tunisia and navigated us through countless decisions regarding their estate.

During this time I could not give him what he gave me and I will forever be grateful. He listened and held me and encouraged me to do whatever I needed in order to adjust to my new “normal”.

While I walked into walls for nine months trying to keep my wits about me and a career I loved, we decided that the best thing for me to do would be to leave my job as a marketing manager to focus on my grief, settle my parents estate, spend time with family and start planning a family of our own.

With hope in our hearts, just 10 months later, we welcomed to the world our son Lucas. Our pride and joy and new reason for living.

In three years, we have made our house a home, taken wonderful trips together, cried together, laughed together, fought like cats and dogs, grown stronger as a couple and as individuals and made two three. We recently suffered a miscarriage but are slowly, but surely bouncing back stronger than ever. I can’t wait to see what our future holds.

A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year. – Paul Sweeney

I am so lucky to have found this incredible man to go through life with. A man that makes my toes curl and my blood boil; makes me laugh, makes me think and forces me *kicking and screaming* to be the best version of myself. He is a wonderful father and a good person.

I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate everything you do for me and us and I love you. Happy Anniversary, Todd. xoxo

The best is yet to be.

This is my 300th post!! How fitting that is a love letter to my husband because without this blog, I’d quite possibly be a bigger pain-in-the-ass than I already am!

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Time Heals All Wounds

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A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor’s book. – Irish proverb

I haven’t posted in a few days. I have a lot to say, a lot is floating around this brain of mine, but the only thing on my mind is the fact that I’m not pregnant anymore. I couldn’t even get my Friday Flip Offs together, and I live for that!!

Last week went from bad to worse. I will spare you all the details, but it ended last night with a visit to the ER.

I’m on the mend, but sad.

I know it is completely normal for me to feel this way and I know it will pass, but my mind is a litany of negative thoughts and I can’t seem to shake them.

I’m trying to carry on as usual, but it’s easier said than done.

I’m trying to carry on as usual, because I have a 13 month old and he needs me as much as I need him.

Unfortunately, Lucas’ dad had to be out of town for a few days last week, so my sister was here and helped out immensely. She knows me well and is great with Lucas. I don’t know what we would have done without her.

Like most people, when trying to feel better emotionally, I turn to retail therapy, drowning my sorrows in Cabernet, pouring my heart out in my journal or blog, or watching too much bad TV, but sleep has always been my favorite way to escape.

None of it really helps, but crawling under the covers and disappearing for a while is a good place to start.

My son’s smile is another brilliant light at the end of this dark tunnel and lastly, there’s time…. time to heal, time to mourn and eventually time to try again.

Thank you for all of the support, good thoughts and virtual hugs last week and for commenting on my post Miscarried. As usual, I put myself out there in a very real and honest way and the feedback was sincere and heartfelt.

The best is yet to be.

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Miscarried

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I can’t sleep.

I have too much on my mind.

I write this with a lump in my throat.

The day before Lucas’ birthday, I took a pregnancy test and it came out positive. We had only been “trying” for two weeks! Can you say fertile? Stranger things have happened…

Learning you’re pregnant the first time is one of the most exciting moments in a woman’s life. Not only is it a major milestone on the path of adulthood, it is one of the most joyous experiences you will ever have. I will never forget the day I found out I was pregnant with Lucas. I cried tears of happiness, excitement and fear.

Learning I was pregnant a second time was a little more shocking for me. I had just gotten back to my pre-pregnancy weight and into my favorite jeans. The hair around my face was starting to grow back and I was FINALLY starting to get the hang of this “mommy thing”. The tears this time were out of pure disbelief. I was excited for sure, but also troubled by how our perfect little family of three was going to change drastically. I was mostly concerned with how this new addition would affect Lucas and how I might handle two under two. Doing the quick calculations, Lucas and his sibling would be almost 21 months apart.

I thought I was nine weeks along at my first OB/GYN visit when an ultrasound revealed that I was only measuring at six weeks. We were told we could have our dates off.

I’m pretty good (obsessive) with dates and knew deep down inside that something was terribly wrong.

Blood work was ordered to check my hCG (the pregnancy hormone) levels and more ultrasounds a week later. Unfortunately, my hCG levels dropped and we learned last Thursday that there had been no growth to the embryo since week six.

I had a terrific pregnancy with Lucas, (you can read all about my experience here) so why would I think anything would or could go wrong with this one? I certainly felt pregnant. I’ve been tired and famished and snarky.

But, in the end, my gut was right. There was something wrong and this pregnancy wasn’t meant to be.

Of course, we’ll never know exactly what went wrong (see #3 of my Friday Flip Offs for how I feel about that).

I never wanted to be a part of this group… a woman who has suffered a miscarriage and also a mother who is already blessed with the knowledge of the beautiful outcome of a full term pregnancy.

But here I am, a reluctant member with so many questions and so much sadness. Why did this happen to us? What went wrong? Did I do something different this time around? Will it happen again?
I know that miscarriage is far more common than we like to think and often times there are no answers. I’ll have to accept that. Eventually.

All I know right now is that this hurts, I’m sad and because I don’t want to wait around for my body to have a natural miscarriage, I have a D and C (a procedure to scrape and collect the tissue from inside the uterus) scheduled for this afternoon.

Please keep me and all of the women that have ever had to go through this in your thoughts… if just for today. Thank you. xoxo

This post was written for the word game, Word Up, Yo!hosted by Natalie (Mommy of a Monster), Kristin (Taming Insanity) and Liz (a belle, a bean and a chicago dog).

If you like words too, play along!
This week’s word is snarky.

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