Summing up

Christmas went by reasonably well, I didn't have major breakdowns apart from the one I already wrote about a couple of posts ago. I cried in the kitchen on my own when my parents were talking to my brother and SIL in the States and congratulating them on the birth of MC. As I was crying, DH came in and cried with me. The contrast was so great; nobody told me my baby was cute, nobody sent me a card saying, "It's a boy!" and nobody gave me any congratulations. On the whole my parents were very sensitive with us, and indeed have mixed emotions themselves given that this year was the year of two grandsons.

I had talked to my brother briefly and not to my SIL at all until yesterday evening when I had a long conversation with them both. I think they are being very sensitive, they spoke about MC only when I asked about him. Before he was born I had told my brother in an email about how devastated I was in getting a BFN in the first month of trying. He had replied, "Don't worry, your body knows best." I flamed him for that by return email, saying that wasn't helpful to me at all, that something in my body killed Moksha, so I don't need to hear that my body knows best. I said that it would be better if he could listen to my concerns [about not getting pregnant] instead of dismissing them. He replied with an apology and we hadn't really spoken again properly until yesterday.

Anyway, MC is doing well, apart from the fact that he won't sleep unless he is being held by someone. Luckily at the moment, my SIL's brother and her SIL and her mother are there and they are working shifts at holding him! But that will have to end soon when they leave. They are not sure if my niece, who is just two, thinks that MC is visiting along with the rest of the family and will be surprised to find he's not leaving along with them. But she has a little book about being a big sister, and my SIL said she read it with her the other day and said, "Do you have a little brother?" and my niece said "Yes". My SIL said "What's his name", and my niece said, "MC". So maybe some understanding that he is here to stay?

DH's birthday was on Boxing Day and was okay. Not sure that mine will be. We haven't been skiing as there is a still a distinct lack of snow unless we go a little farther and higher up, which we could do if we were able to get up before 11am. Actually we live in a v. small country which would probably take six hours to drive across completely. Therefore DH, as a citizen of this small country, thinks that driving two or three hours to go somewhere is not worth it unless you're staying for at least two nights. He could never live in North America! You have no idea how much persuasion I had to do to convince him that going to NYC for seven days (an 8 hour direct flight from here) was defintitely worth it (and he agreed at the end that it was). Ah well. I suppose we're not in the spirit of carpe diem at all.

Our TTC strategy this month is s*x every two days. We already failed the first time because we were too tired and it was 2 and a half days (daytime s*x - very rare for us!).

When my mother, who is a retired doctor, said goodbye at the airport, she said she noticed the front of my neck was swollen and that since I have been very tired recently, that I should get my thyroid checked out. So I went to the doctor yesterday - I always seem to be at the doctor on Moksha's monthly birthday - and he said he wasn't worried but my neck was a bit swollen and that we may as well get it checked out. So, more blood tests in the new year. I mentioned that I had heard from Dr. Google that thyroid problems can cause fertility problems, and he said that I didn't have many strong symptoms of a thyroid problem so that I should not be worried at all. Tiredness could be down to stress and gried, hair falling out is very common after pregnancy.

He also asked generally how I was doing and of course I cried, although not sobbed, and told him about the illogical emotional devastation of getting a BFN. He had told me before that his wife had had a very tough pregnancy with six months of bedrest and still had a premature baby (who is okay now) but this time he mentioned that they had also lost twins in a previous pregnancy and that he understood that I needed to build up more confidence in myself.

We also went to the bank yesterday to see how much they would lend us if we wanted to buy a house. Over here, you need a 20% down payment in cash to buy a house, which makes it prohibitively expensive for a lot of people but we have it together. The day before yesterday we went to see two houses for sale, neither of which we're going to buy but one of which was in a village with this view - that's Mont Blan.c you can see in the sunset and a sea of fog over Lake Gen.eva which this house was above. In fact you could see a large part of the Alps, which always look good in winter with their snowcaps.

For New Year we are not planning anything, it will just be the two of us. DH would probably have liked to see people but seems okay about not.

I can't write off 2006 since I was happy for more than half of it. It is the year of my firstborn son's birth and I have never ever, not once, wished that he hadn't been here at all. For 2007, my wishes are to focus on the endless love he has created in my world and not so much on the pain and grief and to give him a healthy, screaming brother or sister.

And my wishes for you in 2007 are healthy screaming babies and BFPs all round (for those that want them.....) And if that's not what you want, well I wish you happiness, the deep-rooted kind that stays in your foundations and carries you over the rough parts of life.

P.S. Clare, I saw your tag, and I will do it when I have thought of six weird things about me, it appears I'm actually very boring.

5 months today

Dear little Moksha,

Today you should be 5 months old. Your younger cousin MC arrived safe and sound just before Christmas. I will always look at him and think of you, I think for the rest of my life, as he is so close in age to you.

This evening we went to your little lake again. We have been a lot recently. I went with Naniji and Nanaji when they came to visit. You know they were supposed to be visiting you! We all left a flower for you and I took some pictures for your album with them there.

Then we went again on Christmas Day. This time we went a little way into the forest, by the stream that leaves your little lake. I took some sprigs of pine and some red berries and the remains of the big red candle we have been burning for you at home. We bought the candle for your three months - it has three wicks. We lit some incense sticks from India. The smell reminds me of many family things related to India, like Diwali, puja and going to the temple. We all stood around the candle in the cold. Daddy and I cried and so did Naniji. Nanaji was very sad too. Afterwards Naniji left you a rose and Nanaji another flower.

We also took some roses that Grand-papa and Grand-maman had given us the night before, from their garden. We put them in the lake and watched them swirl around in the eddies or cross the lake slowly. Grand-papa and Grand-maman have planted two new rosebushes just for you in their garden.

And this evening, Daddy and I went after dark. We have had a lot of fog down here on the plain and your lake is higher up and the moon and the stars were shining. We had a torch but the moon lit our way too. We saw that the candle we left for you had completely disappeared! Just a little bit of melted red wax was left. That means the flames never went out. It's a good job we moved all the twigs and leaves away before we left! We were surprised as it is so cold, even though it hasn't been snowing. We left you a little candle in the shape of a five, for your five months, in the same spot.

On the way home we saw a rabbit dash across the road through the fog.

We love you sweetpea.

Mummy

He's here

My nephew, MC was born this morning, 8lbs 14 oz, alive and healthy. My SIL is also alive and healthy. When I saw them calling, I handed the phone to my mother. I was able to say congratulations to my B, albeit with tears running down my face. He is a new little person and has no baggage to carry yet. Maybe MC saw Moksha just a few moments ago from wherever his soul came.

Welcome MC.

Nice of you to visit

The fat lady has sung. AF arrived early this morning, accompanied by her friend Lower Backache, whom I haven't seen with AF since Moksha was born. I thought once your uterus had been totally stretched out, a period would be nothing to it. It appears not.

So that was a 35 day cycle. I suppose it could be worse. I had an emotional meltdown yesterday and that must have been at least in part to AF's impending visit. I feel a lot better about my Christmas cards too. But since this blog is also a chronicle of emotions, the post from yesterday still stands.

In my emotional meltdown I felt so trapped and so backed up against a wall with no way of escaping. My parents are here, this was a trip arranged when we were supposed to have Moksha at home. We went to visit the little lake where Moksha's ashes were scattered. And later on in my meltdown, I imagined myself drowned in that lake, floating face down in the crystal clear cold water. having left my body and gone on a graceful journey to find Moksha again. This is probably going to sound really stupid, but I feel like a sealion on the beach - difficult to move around and all grace gone. When I imagine going to find Moksha I see it like the sealion in the water, so graceful again, swimming rapidly with purpose.

I just re-read that last paragraph, and I think I better reassure any readers that I am not in anyway planning to do anything like that. Even if the reason is that I love my husband and my family and I know that they would be devastated.

DH is on a business trip, so it's a good job my parents are here. I managed to speak to DH during the meltdown and he made me feel better. I know I am lucky in that respect, to have my husband be so understanding. We are grieving differently but we have become and, up to now, are remaining very close, all thanks to my darling Moksha. Yesterday I asked him what we would do if we couldn't have any more children. I know it all seems very drama-queeny after one TTC cycle. But in the TWW, I was even saying in my head to the potential baby to stick around since I loved him / her so much and that s/he should never ever doubt it.

So let's look on the bright side. I am going to drink wine and spirits over Christmas. I am going to go skiing with DH on his birthday on Boxing Day, and maybe after that too (assuming there is snow to be found somewhere - something rather lacking in central European ski resorts this year). Last year I did no skiing as I was pregnant with Moksha. I should point out that I live a stone's throw from the Alps and skiing is v. accessible here and it is one of DH's favourite things to do.

What to write?

Still no AF. This is really starting to get to me. Just do what you're going to do, okay, but do it NOW and stop pussyfooting around. If no action by Friday I suppose I will summon up the energy to buy another HPT and test again. At least then I will know if I can drink at Christmas and eat all that unpasteurised, soft, blue-veined cheese (of which there is a lot here). I am getting increasingly irritated, and I am guessing that is PMT. Also had a couple of zits this morning.

So, there was some posts in blogworld recently about what to put in Christmas cards. Well, I thought I would share what I have received in Christmas cards so far. This is in continuation of my irritated mood and I make absolutely NO claim to being fair, or just or understanding. Gee, I'm just all out of understanding for the difficulty others have in expressing themselves. And of course my reaction is also completely tied up into how those people have reacted or not reacted since Moksha's birth.

Number 1:
"I'm sure this is not an easy time but lets hope for a better 2007, for both of you. "
First thought on reading it: Sounds like: I'm sorry you had a bad haircut in 2006, hope it grows out in 2007

Number 2:
"We hope and pray that some of the sad loss of [Moksha] is easing and we pray that 2007 will be a year of hope for you both."
First thought on reading it: You didn't try and imagine how it would be if one of your own sons had just died and so you think it's must take, what, four months for it to start easing? But at least you used Moksha's name and I know you didn't mean to hurt. (Although this message made me cry as I just saw the words "loss of Moksha" and "easing" and I could not bring myself to read their newsletter which I knew would tell me about their unplanned, newborn baby)

Number 3:
As part of a longer text: "How sorry we are that this is not going to be the Christmas you had so hoped it would be. Our most heartfelt thoughts and warmest wishes are with you and your family, at this time in particular."
First thought on reading it: I know you understand.

Number 4:
"I know this will be a difficult time. Thinking of you."
First thought on reading it: You didn't know what to say. You could have written more than one line though. I had a vision of you seeing my name on your Christmas card list and your heart sinking and you wanting to get past it asap.

Number 5:
"Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."
First thought on reading it: A stock message, you wrote the same to everyone and you just couldn't bring yourself to write anything contextual to me

Number 6:
"Wishing you both best wishes for 2007" plus a little newsy text all about the author, which includes one line "I think of you often."
First thought on reading it: You just couldn't bring yourself to really acknowledge that I had a baby who died this year. But I wasn't really expecting a card from you, so thanks.

Number 7:
"Our thoughts are with you this Christmas time."
First thought on reading it: Sounds sincere, but I'm also thinking about the really nice email you sent me which ended with you saying: one thing is for sure, you're still my friend and you're still a brilliant person.

Number 8:
"We wish you a happy Christmas and a 2007 filled with the happiness that you deserve."
First thought on reading it: Thank you.

So, as you can see, there are no logical reactions, only emotional ones. But if anyone happens to be reading this who knows someone whose baby died this year, then you should probably:

1) Do actually send a card but maybe not one with playing children on it
2) Write more than the usual stock drivel and write at least a little paragraph
3) Use the baby's name in your card
4) Acknowledge the loss and how Christmas is going to be tough
5) Make no assumptions about it getting better
6) Mention that you think of them often and of their baby too. I am often astounded about how many people who I see for the first time in months, say "I've been thinking of you often." It's no fucking use to me unless you actually tell me.

Any other comments about what to say in a card to someone who has lost a child are welcome. I admit it's a hard game to win but not saying anything is worse than saying something. Just please spend an extra few minutes on the card to the grieving this year.

Updated: I've just read Msfitzita's post on a Christmas card she received, which also shows that it a hard game to win, but ultimately it is possible.

BFN

I tested again this morning. This time the test worked and I am not pregnant.

Strange, I didn't feel sick before but I do now, sick from disappointment. You have to admit, it sounded hopeful. It's 33 days since LMP, and my doctor examined my cervix a few days before I supposedly ovulated. Before Moksha, my cycles were around 29 days. And now, obviously I don't know, I just hope the increasing cycle length trend is going to stop soon.

So, now I will run the gauntlet of Christmas without Moksha, the birth of my nephew without Moksha and turning 34 without Moksha and all without the slight strength I could have drawn from the hope inherent in being pregnant.

Updated

It's now three hours since my BFN. I have told my husband (well, I told him before telling you) and had a sobbing breakdown on my own, said how sorry I am over and over again to Moksha, called my mother and sobbed to her too. I know there are people who may read this who had to TTC or have been TTCing for many months on end and this must all seem a bit melodramatic to you after one BFN.

I think the problem is that I only had one strategy for coping with Christmas, my nephew and my aging and that was to be pregnant when those things happened. I am realising that I have no plan B in place. Now I am thinking things such as maybe I will never have any children. I have never contemplated a future in which this might happen, just as I never contemplated a future in which I would be the mother of a dead child. My marriage is strong, but is it that strong?

In the space of the one minute it took for the pregnancy test control window to have a line, I have regressed several months to why, why, why, did our son have to die, why did this happen to us, why could I not just have my bouncing, nearly 5 month old baby here at Christmas, why can't I go and pick my parents up at the airport tomorrow with the car seat filled with smiling, burbling Moksha, and see them go all coo-ey with him and he look bashful and shy, and towards me for reassurance? Why does our appartment still look like that of a childless couple, no toys or burping cloths strewn around the living room? Why is our pram packed away in the attic instead of cluttering up our hallway? Why is it so quiet?

Even now, I catch my subconscious thinking, well AF still isn't here, you don't know it's over until she's actually here. Clinging on by the fingernails to the part of the instructions in the test which say "If the test is negative but you still suspect that you may be pregnant, then test again in three days time". Why would they put that if it wasn't a possibility to get a negative followed by a positive?

As my mother said, we were very lucky last time to get pregnant immediately, it normally takes a little while, one BFN is not indicative of a problem, v. few people get pregnant on the first cycle etc. etc. All true. She told me that she was also hoping that I might be pregnant and she knows the next weeks are going to be really tough, for all of us.

I just feel that I have no role to play in life unless the primary role of mother can be fulfilled. All the other possible roles seem so secondary to me. I could play those roles, but only once I get to play my primary role.

I still cannot understand how we could have got so close to having Moksha and yet never got to meet him. I still have moments where I cannot believe that this is happening / has happened to us. Moments where I reject absolutely this present I find myself in.

The things people say

More examples of the unbelievable crap people say here

I tested...

.....and there were no lines. At all. Not even in the fucking control window. So the test didn't work. Did I pee for too long on the stick?

Anyway after steeling myself this morning to take the test and getting a crappy non-result, I've thrown a hissy fit with.... with..... the world in general, okay? (not including you, of course). So I haven't tested again. I have to work up to steeling myself again. Who knows how long that will take? DH goes on a business trip on Tuesday until Friday. I'm not sure I'll test if he isn't here.

So status: 31 days since LMP, no AF, no BFP and no BFN either. I wasn't charting my temperature and so I don't know how many DPO I am really*.

Don't worry, I'm not going to write about this stuff every TTC month. It would get very old very quickly, for you and me.

*That sure is a lot of abbreviations. For the uninitiated:
LMP = last menstrual period
AF = Aunt Flo or menstrual period
BFP = big fat positive (on a pregnancy test)
BFN = big fat negative (on a pregnancy test)
DPO = days past ovulation
TTC = trying to conceive.

So, you are just a jerk after all

I am talking about my ex-friend, and I hope soon-to-be ex-boss as I am trying to switch to another team in the next few months.

He keeps trying to talk to me and he keeps screwing it up. One time a few weeks ago, the conversation went:

EFSTBEB: Yeah, me and C. have sooo much work to do, we were up until 2am the other night

Me: (silent, thinking what do you want me to say? That I think you're dumb? Should I share my life-perspective with you and state how I think you should be spending a bit of time with your 10 month old son instead?)

EFSTBEB: On Friday we just decided to both switch off our phones and take a day off.

Me: (thinking, I have to say something) Great.

EFSTBEB: We just ran away from everything. Bit like you and [DH], didn't you run away from everything and go to New York a few weeks ago.

Me: (flabbergasted that he was comparing having too much work with having a son die) No, EFSTBEB, I'm not able to run away from what happened. There is no escape from your emotions. I take it with me wherever I go.

Better response thought of afterwards: If you knew someone who lost their right arm, would you tell them to take a holiday from it?


Then a few days ago this happened:

EFSTBEB: Hi [Rosepetal], got time for a coffee?

Me: (thinking, I have to give him some credit for trying again) OK

EFSTBEB over coffees: Ah, not sure if you know, me and C. have been having problems lately. Boy, having a baby is hard, C. sure has a lot of advice for anyone considering having a baby,-

Me: Stop EFSTBEB. I have to tell you something, I do not have the emotional energy to hear this right now. My baby is dead, I know four months have gone by, but he's still dead. I think it's a bit insensitive of you to talk with me about how difficult it is having a baby at home. I'm sorry to say this, but unless I tell you if what you're saying is helpful or not, I figure you will never know.

EFSTBEB: Uh, yeah, that's okay, I'm sorry.

Me: (silence)

EFSTBEB: (silence)

Me: You asked a while ago about a photograph of [Moksha] but I don't think you've seen [DH] since then. Here is a photo of him

EFSTBEB: (silence, looks at the photo)

EFSTBEB: (quite affected) OK, I understand, I am only just really starting to think about what it really means and I'm already overwhelmed, so I cannot imagine what it is like for you.

Me: (thinking, finally he gets it! I have educated someone about grief).

We went on then to have a normal work conversation. I felt able to do that because he had finally acknowledged the depth of my loss.


Cut to about two hours ago. Now, I have a lot of holidays which I have not taken. I had planned to take them all at the end of my maternity leave before my unpaid leave started and was saving them all year for that. Since there is no baby at home, I started back at work. I'm taking some of my days, but I can't take all of them. I asked for a deferment of some of them for next year. We just had a conversation about it and the reasons and about how it might not be possible (to be fair to EFSTBEB, it's not really his fault). At the end of this conversation:

Me: So EFSTBEB, as we have just discussed I won't be in next week as I'm taking some days. So have a nice Christmas.

EFSTBEB: (big smiles) Oh yeah, that's right! Drink LOTS of champagne!

Me: (silent, no smiles)

Better response thought of afterwards: Right, EFSTBEB, as we JUST discussed, I have A LOT to celebrate! Losing my baby and my vacation too! You really are a jerk, aren't you?

**********
On a different note, when he told me to drink lots of champagne, I thought, "I may not be able to as I may be pregnant." AF didn't come today. I still haven't tested. My cycles after Moksha's birth went 10 days, 16 days, 23 days, 29 days. So, following that trend what if this one was supposed to be 35 days? Then now would not be the right time to test. On the other hand, we also probably missed the boat if that was the case.

I managed to pluck up the courage to buy a test though, so there is now an HPT actually in my appartment. We'll see.

You were right!

Delphi told me that two week wait was indescribable hell, and she was right!

The fact that googling early pregnancy symptoms comes up with lists which are remarkably similar to premenstrual symptoms does not help. Every day I go from thinking, "yep that could be an early pregnancy symptom" to "no, AF is definitely on her way." Make that several times a day.

Exhibit 1: My boobs hurt, but they don't hurt all the time. PG or AF?
Exhibit 2: I think I'm peeing more often. PG or just drinking more because the central heating kicked in?
Exhibit 3: I felt dizzy a few days ago. PG or AF (c.f. last time)?
Exhibit 4: I'm pretty tired in the mornings. PG or still grief-tiredness? or just going to bed too late?

etc. etc. etc.

And this is only the first TWW! I am officially a pathetic human being.

Some Day

I read this poem in the Kick Count Alliance newsletter. It's written by a mother whose son was stillborn six years ago. Apart from the fact that I do not have other children, the sentiments are really how I do feel or would like to feel about Moksha.

Someday, Sweet Nicholas
by MLM

Some days
I want to die
Just to be with you again.
Then I remember life’s beauty
And I live to honor you.

Some days
I wish for one more day with you,
One more moment to hold you, touch you, kiss you.
Then I realize “one more” would never be enough
And I choose to cherish “the ones” I had.

Some days
You invade my every thought.
All I see is your beautiful face, your perfect body
And I long to hold you again…
But instead I must hold onto memories.

Some days
I think of all that could have been
All that should have been, with you here…
And my heart breaks without you –
Then your brothers make my heart soar.

Some days
I feel such unbearable sorrow
I miss you so –
And I know I’d rather feel that forever
Than to never have known you.

Some days
I see families who have not endured this pain.
I envy their pure, unadulterated joy.
Then I realize your life has made my joys bigger, my will stronger
As I rise above the sorrow of your death.

Some days
I’d give anything to have you here,
To see your precious face and give you all my love.
Then I remember that love
Is all you ever knew.

Some days
I glow with pride as Jo speaks of you
He sends you gifts, balloons, notes –
All Heaven-bound for his big brother
And I smile because you are known to him, part of him, loved by him.

Some days
I am so overjoyed to have your brothers in my life
That for a moment I can’t imagine being happier…
Then I think if you were still here
My joy would be uncontainable.

Some day
Perhaps we’ll all be together again.
My sons will be reunited,
My husband’s spirit will soar
And finally I will feel whole.

Some day
My precious, beloved son,
I will dance with you in Heaven
And I will never let you go

…For now, sweet baby, I carry you with me.
You are in all I do, all I love, all that I am.
Your life has defined me and we are inseparable.

I love you.
Mommy

A picture speaks a thousand words...

When I try to imagine Moksha and where he might be now, I often struggle. Sometimes I try to imagine him as a pure spirit and not resembling a child or a baby but something timeless and wise, with no physical form, existing in a different world. It's difficult as that's not a tangible thing to imagine.

Sometimes I imagine him as reborn to someone else (although according to Hindu philosophy, if he did achieve moksha, then he wouldn't be reborn).

And sometimes I imagine him as little defenceless baby, catapulted somewhere where he wasn't supposed to be, bewildered and crying for his mother, wondering why she abandoned him.

Obviously the last one is the most painful type of torment. I have associations of darkness and cold with that scenario.

Recently we ordered a ring for my right ring finger - it's a classic gold wedding band with a tiny diamond set in it. It will be engraved inside with Moksha's name and date of birth. At the jewellry shop, which was of course in the full swing of Christmas present marketing, there was this picture on a poster.













Angels are Judaeo - Christian and Islamic concepts and I am not from those backgrounds, but I think pictures of angels are representations of spirits gone from this world, the same as I try to imagine Moksha. When I saw it, I thought to myself, I could also imagine Moksha like that, in another world, but happy and laughing and waiting for me with joy. The thought that I should not "sully" Moksha by using an image from a commercial marketing campaign to think of him did cross my mind, but I also think only those that are highly skilled in meditation are able to contemplate death and the next world without resorting to images made in this world as a reference.

(Misplaced) hope and guilt

I've been thinking about writing this post for a while and didn't want to for fear of looking like a fool - why am I even hoping when it's the first cycle I'm trying (the second cycle trying in my whole life). But I've decided to write it anyway in an attempt to anchor the swirling thoughts, pin them to the ground.

I have been trying to studiously ignore any thoughts about being pregnant, trying to force myself to think that I will not be and it wouldn't be unusual at all and nothing to worry about. But I sort of let myself go just now and typed in the date of my LMP into a due date calculator to see when the term would be. My OB already said that, as long as the baby had good growth, I could be induced from 37 weeks next time. So I had to check when that would be.... yes, v. close to Moksha's birthday on 29th July, but after it.

Then I have to slap myself (okay - figuratively) and give myself a good mental talking-to. You idiot! Assuming you're pregnant, assuming no miscarriage, assuming no mid-term loss, assuming no infection etc. etc. etc.

I will of course be disappointed if I'm not. One of the reasons is that I had a cervical smear test earlier this month, and the OB said, upon feeling my cervix, you're about to ovulate, I think in the next one or two days. So now I do think, we're pretty useless if we missed it when a qualified professional actually told me when I was going to ovulate. And I think we might have missed it. Another reason is that I got pregnant the first time last time at a time when I thought it was too late to get pregnant (cycle must have been delayed due to travelling).

I am not feeling sick (but didn't with Moksha) or particularly tired (but can't remember when I got 1st trimester tiredness with Moksha) or especially hungry (but am associating hunger pangs with late pregnancy) [or.... ( but....)] to the power of n where n is a large number.

****************

I am starting to mentally prepare myself for the birth of my nephew, due in just over two and half weeks. I know that he and Moksha are two different people. I know that he is my nephew and deserves just as much excitement and love as any other baby born to our family. And I know it's going to be hard, on me, DH and my mother especially. My mother is already afraid of her own reaction to the birth of her next grandson.I told my SIL about kick-count charts, since I would rather worry her a bit than risk losing another baby (and I think she's thinking about it anyway without me telling her).

This week I have been thinking more and more that Moksha did slow down over the space of 24 hours. I was so wrapped up in the pending induction, so reassured by the perfect ultrasound and NST two days before, that I just was not paying enough attention. I just was not entertaining the possibility that something could go so drastically wrong at that late stage. And so I now think I rendered myself oblivious to the signs. And I think keeping a kick count chart would have had a good chance of preventing Moksha's death.

My own theory, not confirmed by any doctor or autopsy result, is now this: a few days after my last check-up, a small blood clot or clots got stuck in the umbilical cord and slowed Moksha down. I didn't notice and he eventually died. Which I didn't notice immediately either. Maybe I am escaped by the skin of my teeth in not having a clot and dying myself. I suppose that I will never know. At my last appointment I told my OB that I would have given my life so that Moksha could have his, but I didn't get to make the choice. She said, "no, that choice was not given to you, and a little baby without a mother is very sad too."

"La culpabilité est une spécialité féminine." I heard that the other day on the local radio. Guilt is a female speciality. I suppose it's true.

Afterwards - Moksha's Story Part III

I wrote this, pretty much in one go, on 7th August 2006, a time when I was still in total shock at Moksha's death. I have edited it to make it anonymous. At the time I saved the document as "Afterwards.doc"


On 1st August 2006, a national bank holiday, we had an appointment with a funeral home in _____. These places are open on bank holidays. People die on bank holidays. The funeral home would collect Moksha’s body from the morgue in the Hôpital _________ and take it to the crematorium. We had to make choices such as: did we want Moksha’s ashes to be given to us in a wooden urn, a metallic urn, a biodegradable urn or only in a cloth sachet; which type of coffin should his body be cremated in. We couldn’t decide immediately on the urn – the coffin was a simple enough choice as for such small bodies there were only two possibilities. We chose the simple, plain white coffin. We were told the cremation could be held on Thursday and the ashes would be cool enough either on Thursday afternoon or Friday morning for us to collect. During the appointment, because it was a bank holiday, the person we were talking to received several phone calls which he answered as he was the only person on duty for the bank holiday. It didn’t make me angry. I thought, if I was calling about Moksha, I would want someone to answer the phone.

The night before, we had chosen the clothes Moksha was to wear for his cremation and three things which would accompany him. My mother had made a beautiful quilted wall hanging with jungle animals for Moksha – her first quilting experience for her first grandson. One of the animals was a baby zebra. She had quilted another little zebra motif on its own without really knowing what to do with it. This little zebra was with Moksha.

B and SIL had sent us a box of useful baby items which included three little bears with Velcro to clip onto the front of the pram and keep Moksha amused. Whilst waiting for Moksha, we had fastened them onto the side of the cot. We gave the yellow one to him; we felt that we would always remember why there were only two remaining.

DH had read the story “Le Petit Prince” to Moksha over several weeks so that Moksha would recognise his voice and be soothed by it after he was born. A reading from this same book was read at our wedding in May 2005. The copy was mine from 1991 – I bought it whilst learning French in ________. My maiden name was already written in the front. We inscribed DH’s name and Moksha’s name underneath.

We picked a “Petit Bateau” yellow and white stripy body that we had chosen together and liked the best. It had a rabbit motif on the front. Moksha also had some yellow trousers which my mother had bought for him.

These were the things that accompanied Moksha. We gave them to the funeral home.

We were asked whether we wanted to have the coffin open or not at the crematorium. I wanted so much to be able to see Moksha again. One reason was to see him again, touch him and possibly even hold him again. The second reason was to make sure for myself that Moksha had been dressed in the things we chose and given the items to accompany him. Everyone, without exception, persuaded me not to see the body again and to maintain the memories of Moksha when he was born – still warm and as if he was asleep. The ravages of time and an autopsy on a dead body would have spoilt these memories. Moksha would have been cold and stiff and he would have looked different. His skin wouldn’t have been so soft anymore. In the end I accepted this advice and we chose to have the coffin closed. I would have to trust the funeral home that he was dressed as we wished him to be.

The next day called the funeral home to tell them this decision and that we had decided on the metallic urn, in which the cloth sachet is placed with the ashes inside it. We tried to relax on Wednesday and to have a break from having appointments or things to arrange or to do.

On Thursday morning, only DH and I went to the crematorium to see the coffin and witness the cremation. It was not at this time that we would hold our private goodbye ceremony to Moksha, so we decided to only go the two of us. The cremation was scheduled for 9am.

On arrival, we went to the reception where we met a man whose calling is surely not to work in such a place. He asked us if we wanted the coffin closed. We had to wait whilst they did this. I heard banging noises from behind a door. I wondered if this was them nailing Moksha’s coffin shut or whether it was something else. We went to room number 19 where Moksha was. His name, [Moksha], was by the side of the door.

We went in. We were hit by a wave of shock at how small the coffin was. 60cm long – we had read it in the coffin catalogue, but it was still a big shock. It was plain and white. We had to sit down from the shock before approaching it. We wept over it and kissed it and caressed it. I tried to think: Moksha’s soul is not in that box – his soul left nearly a week ago. That is how I tried to think of Moksha when his body was in the hospital morgue alone.

The man from the reception interrupted us twice to see if we were done. He seemed in a hurry. I was not angry. Not like me. He told us that a plastic bag that was lying on the side of the room held the pyjama suit Moksha had been dressed in just after his birth and asked what we wanted to do with it. On the spur of the moment, we said it should be cremated with him. We hadn’t thought about it. Now I wish I had kept it and brought it home as something which Moksha had touched.

Then we had to go and wait in the reception again whilst they moved the coffin to the furnace area for the cremation. We wanted to see this too. After a wait the man beckoned to us with his hand without speaking. We followed him into another part of the building. I was post-partum and couldn’t walk fast. He kept having to stop and wait for us. We walked through some doors and the air was suddenly much warmer. This was the back way into the rooms where the coffins lay. I saw a wooden, adult sized coffin waiting. It was very industrial. Some cleaning products lay around in disarray.

We walked down a ramp and saw three furnaces. I didn’t see Moksha’s coffin at first. Then I saw it lined up in front of the far furnace. It was so small that it had been lined up with a wooden support – it didn’t fit on the automatic rails that put the coffins in the furnace. DH had to ask for a chair for me to sit on – they wheeled out an old office swivel chair in a hurry. Another man in a blue boiler suit pressed a button on the side of the furnace. The furnace door opened and the rails moved in jerkily. I was scared the coffin would fall off the rails. We saw the light of the flames as the furnace door closed. The first man waited awkwardly as we wept and held each other.

We walked back to the reception. The man had to stop and wait for us again. On the way back I saw a black body bag lined up to go into a room. Different names were chalked on a blackboard near the entrance to this industrial part of the crematorium. Against number 19, we saw the surname “________”. DH and I stopped by the board and rubbed it out.

We stood in front of the reception. The man said, “What would you like to know? The ashes will be ready for collection on Tuesday”. We said that was impossible and that we needed them on Friday at 9am. The goodbye ceremony for Moksha was for Saturday early morning. He hurriedly made a few phone calls and said that would be okay.

We left. Our obstetrician had arranged a psychology appointment for us ­– it was at 11am in _________. We drove there and found a café. We sat quietly together and had a croissant and a coffee / hot chocolate before going to the psychologist’s office. I thought about how much I loved DH.

Read Moksha's story part IV

The blood and the dream

Hah - dramatic post title just to draw you in.

I got some blood test results on Friday evening. It was kind of good that three different doctors co-ordinated on tests they wanted so that I only got stuck with the needle once.

Since I felt dizzy several times towards the end of our trip to New York (which resulted in DH going to see Beauty and the Beast on his own!), and I don't eat meat, my family doctor wanted my iron levels tested. They're fine and I haven't been feeling dizzy since. I told her they would be since I'm already taking prenatal vitamins with iron in them. I chalk it up to the fact that my period was about to start and walking all those blocks in NYC.

My OB also had my toxoplasmosis checked again since we are starting TTC again. Still negative.

But the real reason for the blood test was to check my D-dimers (this one ordered by the hematologist). D-dimers are fragments of fibrin, which is, as I understand it, a by-product of blood coagulation. I think the higher your D-dimers are, the more likely you are to have a blood clot or to have had a blood clot. Since pregnancy hormones make your D-dimers rise, they wanted to wait four months after Moksha's birth before checking them in order to ensure that the level wasn't affected by my pregnancy.

My level was at the top limit of normal. Still normal, though, I hear you cry. Yeah, I suppose so. Strange how I started illogically thinking to myself that I might just keel over dead from a pulmonary embolism whilst walking down the street. My OB called the hematologist before calling me with the results. There is nothing to do now, but as soon as I get a positive pg test, I should call her. Duh, I would do that anyway but I guess she means she will see me immediately. They will closely monitor my D-dimers and I will probably start taking aspirin cardio (that's low dose aspirin by the way, I get all these terms in French from my doctor and absolutely could be translating them into English wrongly) right from the start and will eventually get low molecular weight heparin shots. Which I will learn to give to myself. Daily. Whatever.

On Friday night I had a strange dream. I dreamt I had quadruplets. I don't know why. Maybe unnecessary subconscious multiple one-upmanship over a certain mother of twins? Or should that be two-upmanship? Anyway, all I can remember of the dream starts from giving birth in the hospital, so I don't know how the pg went.

The birth was a strangely anticlimactic event. There were three girls and a boy. ?? Is that even possible with quads? Anyway I just gave birth to all of them and I didn't even see them or hold them. They were all immediately put into a special incubator, which was hermetically sealed. And wasn't transparent, so I couldn't see them. In the dream I just assumed this was normal and was sad but not panicked, as apparently there was nothing I could do about it. Or maybe I was just relieved that they were all alive.

Anyway, then for some reason I was immediately separated from them and ended up walking all round different floors of the huge hospital (yeah right, after giving birth to quads) dealing with administrative papers with the very stiff-backed female obstetrician. At one point I ended up in the hospital cafeteria and the midwives who were there during Moksha's birth were in the lunch queue. They asked me about Moksha and were happy to know about the quads. In the back of my mind I kept thinking, I want be with the quads, not traipsing around the hospital.

Then I woke up. Sorry, no big ending to that dream. Strange, huh? When I woke up, I thought, does it mean that I will have three girls now, since I already had a boy? So, if it comes true, you read the premonition here first.

Nothing more exciting to say. TWW. Trying not to get any hopes up. But that's bullshit, as you know.

Various

Some random pictures.

Le Chagrin (patinated bronze). This picture doesn't really do it justice, as I took it with a flash.

















Chrysler building & Grand Central Station

















The Village and I, Marc Chagall, MoMA

















The small lake where Moksha's ashes were scattered (picture taken on the same day).













We go there quite often - probably 2-3 times per month. We usually take a flower for him. I don't always cry there. At first I didn't feel like I had a relationship with this place, but now I'm starting to feel that I do. I'm about to start making an album for Moksha - we've bought the album and I've got copies of the pictures, but I'm hesitating about giving him his own special album or just including him in a family album since he will always be part of my family.

Whenever we go up to the lake, for example, I take a few more pictures. I need to create memories of my life with Moksha. Does that make sense? I think I will put pictures in the album of moments when I think of him or when I want to include him, of his family, of where we're living etc. What I'm trying to say is that there will be future pictures in his / the album as well.

The lady with five children

I am just stunned by Kate's news! I can't stop thinking about it. Kate, I'm so happy for you - although I am guessing it must be a bit scary as well. I'll be rooting for all three of you all the way!

A year ago today.....

....this is what you looked like. A few mm long. This was the first time I saw you!

Tomorrow you should be 4 months old. The doctor told me yesterday that I was physically recovered from your birth. Now we're trying to give you a little brother or sister. You will always be our first-born, my little sweetpea. You are showing us the depth of love.

I hope your spirit is happy. Maybe my lifetime in this world will go by in the blink of an eye for you. I'm hoping that's what it will be like for you. So when I see you again, you won't even have realised I wasn't there. A momentary absence. You were thrown up into the air but I will catch you again.

I love you!
Mummy

Return to work

So, it's a week since I went back to work. I'm not working full-time at the moment. I can say that my work has been pretty understanding. I usually work with fairly demanding clients, and I asked that they find something that wasn't client-facing to start with since I didn't know how I was going to react to coming back to work.

I won't say it's nice, but I think it's a necessary step to "re-socialising" myself. I have consumed many packets of tissues since I went back. We have what's called a "hot-desk" policy - basically no-one has their own desk, you just take your laptop, plug into any desk and log on to the phone. In fact I've always worked like that. But it means no protective office walls to cry in.

There are various types of reactions. There are the people who know what happened and go out of their way to come and say hello, some with tears in their eyes. There are the people who know what happened and come up and say "Hiiiiieee [Rosepetal]!!! How are you?", which sounds like I've spent four months at the beach. I generally say "okay, thanks" in a barely audible voice with no smile.

Then there are the people who don't know what happened. It's awful, for me and for them. A sample:

Coworker in lunch queue: Hi [Rosepetal]! I didn't hear what you had, boy or girl?
Me: You didn't hear, my baby died.
Coworker: Sorry?
Me: um, um, he died, I had a boy.
Shocked Coworker: oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know.
Me, trying to fight back tears and failing miserably: it's okay, you didn't know.

Coworker in underground car park and sing-songy voice: Hi [Rosepetal], you're back at work!
Me, thinking, he doesn't know: Yes, I started this week.
Coworker: How is it, coming back?
Me: Um, okay, it's pretty difficult.
Coworker with big understanding smile: Yes, I remember, it's always difficult the first time you have to leave the little one at home, I remember when my wife -
Me, interrupting: You haven't heard, my son died.
Coworker, still with smile: What?
Me: My son died.
Coworker, smile gone: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know at all, god I'm sorry.
Me: it's okay, you didn't know.
Coworker, after pause: How long ago?
Me: The day before he was born.
Then some other random people get in the lift and the coworker gets out at another floor and doesn't speak to me again.

When I told the head of HR this, she said, oh god, that's terrible, I did wonder whether to send out a general announcement or not. I've also thought about sending one myself. But whilst on the one hand I would prefer people to know in advance, on the other hand I don't want to become a general office gossip subject either.

There are the people who knew and to whom I was quite close, or just clicked with. I generally have lunch, or maybe a coffee with these people in a meeting room, and cry. A LOT. If I feel like it, I show them Moksha's picture, which I carry around in my purse. I'm hoping that this will get easier - it's much harder when you see someone for the first time.

And there are the people who know and say nothing. Pink elephantitis.

Finally, there are two people that have spoken to me who have also lost children. One whose wife had a placental abruption at 40 weeks four years ago. They came to speak to us at home, I think I've mentioned them before. And another whose first son died because he was born too prematurely. Both of these people have gone on to have other children. And I know that they truly get it. That Moksha will never be replaced, that he will always be missing, until the day I die.

Needless to say, I'm not getting a lot of work done due to extremely low productivity, wandering mind syndrome and general lack of motivation.

The double-edged sword

:o)

I mentioned in my last post about the double-edged sword of reading blogs about loss. In fact I have been thinking about the blogosphere in general. There are two things which I have been thinking about recently: reading about loss and the point of comments on blogs.

It has helped me a lot to read about people in a similar situation to me. What is a similar situation to me? Is it losing a child? Is it a pregnancy which ended in a loss at anytime? A loss at the very end of the third trimester? An unexplained loss? All of the above?

Writing about my life after the death of my son, reading about other people's losses and being able to interact with those people has helped me (and still helps me) feel less alone. Even though each situation is different and each individual integrates what happened into their lives in different ways, to "be" with people who "get it" is comforting.

For me, the interaction part of the blogosphere, especially the anonymous blogosphere, is around comments. Receiving comments and leaving comments. As was discussed on WTF's blog recently, I think we all like it when we get comments. If I didn't want the interaction, I would keep my blog secret, or not allow anyone to comment at all, or just keep a journal in a Word document or something like that. When you get no comments at all, somehow it makes you feel like what you wrote was not interesting to anyone or, that no-one is reading and you did not further anyone's thoughts. So I think if you have a non-password protected blog which allows comments from the general public, it means you want the comments.

Recently I left a comment on a blog which I don't read very often but have read several times. I believe my comment was not at all well received by the author of the post in question. This is what prompted me to think about the blogosphere and what we want from it and its interactivity.

Some commenters are just downright nasty, mean and vindictive. Let's take my previous post. If someone were to say, "You must be thick, if you can't tell left from your right, and ugly to boot what with the vitiligo. Fancy being scared of going to Latin America, WTF did you do it for then, and don't you know there are people in the world who really have things to be scared of? By the way your writing sucks as well," well then I would call that a pointless and mean comment which serves no purpose other than to hurt. So I'm not talking about those types of comments.

What if someone were to say something which I thought they meant they hadn't understood what I was saying? Or if they just didn't agree with me? Or said something which just upset me? I admit I might feel hurt, depending on what it was. But then what am I looking for in the interaction? Just for people to validate what I wrote? That's certainly always nice. IRL I don't have friends who always agree with me. They mostly agree with me, as I guess we have to have something in common, but to agree all the time and not present any differing viewpoints ever would mean that I was losing out on something.

In the blogosphere dead-baby community, it can be a problem that some posts are so sad, we just don't know what to say. Most people, myself included, are pretty sensitive since the subject being blogged about is such a terrible one, one which the sufferers may have great trouble in accepting. So whilst knowing that the person probably would like to get a comment, do you leave one to say ((Hugs)), or "I'm so sorry", or does that just sound lame? Do you try to offer advice? Do you offer information?*

On the other hand, if you write a post where you put yourself out there emotionally, and someone didn't get it or wrote something that you didn't get, then the emotions can take yet another knock.

However, if you have a blog open to the public, I guess you can't reasonably expect everyone to get everything you say or see everything from your point of view. Maybe all posts should have a sort of desired comment indicator:

o
leave me something so at least I knew you were here (symbol stolen from WTF)

¦o< leave me a comment only if you have something worthwhile to say, I can't take any more banality

:o(
this post is really sensitive for me - what I need is for you to only leave a comment which shows that you get what I said or not leave one at all

:o¦
only leave me a comment if you have been through first-hand something I am blogging about in this post

:o)
leave me any type of comment even if you disagree with what I said (obviously not the vindictive type I mentioned above)

Can you think of any others?

Sometimes people put themselves out there in the comment too. It's emotional for them to leave the comment, they write and delete it several times, they want to say something but don't want the blogger to be hurt. Sometimes I wonder if I should just blog on my own blog about the topic of a post and not leave a comment. But then I think, I would have wanted the comment. What's the blogetiquette?

The other part of the double-edged sword of blogging is too much information. Since not everyone lost a baby in the same way, do you want to know about all the other ways in which you might lose one? or the other pregnancy-related problems you might have? It's a balance between no longer being the innocent pregnant and becoming paralysed by fear. In my own example: My seemingly perfectly healthy baby died in utero at the very end of my perfect pregnancy in a silent moment of no drama. There appeared to be nothing wrong with me. My physical post-partum recovery has shown no problems. That was my first pregnancy and I got pregnant in the first and only cycle I ever tried.

About to embark on a TTC cycle for the second time in my life I am now keenly aware of the possibilities of: not getting pregnant immediately, being too old, secondary infertility, miscarriage, chromosomal abnormalities, severe physical malformations, cord accident, infection, loss during labour, premature birth, placental abruption, uterine abruption and I could go on. They are all unknowns to me, I have not been through them.... yet. I think about all of the things which could go wrong at any point in the journey of delivering a living baby. In addition to mourning my dear son, I am mourning the loss of the possibility of having a happy, positive pregnancy ever again.

The one thing I do not want to hear is how everything will be all right next time.

The unexplained way in which Moksha died might be unknown to you. Even if you have been through the loss of a baby in a different way, does it scare you to hear about it? If you are battling infertility, do you want to know that you can lose a baby at the last moment? If you had a late-pregnancy loss but no miscarriage, do you want to know that miscarriage can happen to you next time? To be clear, these are questions, not assumptions.

Maybe the solution is to also read blogs about happy pregnancies with happy outcomes. Those do happen too.

*My personal view is that ((Hugs)) and sorries are always welcome! On the topic of the death of a baby, there often isn't anything to say. The only thing you can do is listen (read) and be there (hugs).

Tagged

I have so much to write about - return to work, the all day perinatal loss seminar we went to on Saturday, whether reading blogs about loss is a double-edged sword - I don't know where to start. So I will instead respond to Artblog's tag, which was already days ago.

The tag was to tell you five things about me that you don't already know. I am going to cheat a bit here and assume that only Kate and Delphi read my 100 things post before I took the 100 things down from fear of losing anonymity.

So here goes:

1. I have vitiligo. Vitiligo is a non-life threatening, not physically painful, auto-immune skin disease in which the cells which produce melanin, which produces skin colour, somehow die off in patches. Being of Indian origin, I have brown skin. I have one patch of vitiligo - on my face. That means I have a white patch of skin on my brown face. It's on my forehead. It appeared when I was 23. Since then it hasn't really changed much. No-one really knows what causes vitiligo (although they think there is a gene that causes it) and there isn't really an easily available, reliable treatment. Since it is considered to be a "cosmetic" condition, and isn't all that common, it has difficulty getting research funding.
   
   It caused me a lot of anguish at the time. It's like losing a part of yourself when you look in the mirror and see a different face. You need to re-evaluate your relationship with how you look and lose a lot of confidence. Since it is on my forehead, I had a fringe cut so I could hide it without using make-up, and over ten years I think a lot less about it. I can't really say I came to terms with it because I only don't think about it as it hasn't spread to other parts of my body. If I were to start having a patch on my nose, which I couldn't hide without carefully applying tons of makeup every day, then I would probably crumble. I told my husband about it about 3 or 4 months after we met and he told me he loved me more because of my hidden vulnerability. (He's great like that). People with white skin can also suffer because of vitiligo - it becomes more obvious in the summer when the parts of their skin that still have melanin cells get tanned, even slightly. If you follow the link above, then you will see a picture of what vitiligo can look like.
   
   
2. I met my husband whilst backpacking in South America, when I was 26. I was terrified about going to South America on my own. But I felt like life was going nowhere. When I was an undergraduate student, I used to go out drinking with my mates. I graduated, got a job in London and went out drinking with new mates (except I had more money because I had a job). When I first moved to London, I lived in a house-share with three other people who were all around 29 - 30. I was 22. They used to go out drinking with their mates. I did think to myself at the time, that's pretty sad, I hope that's not all I'm still doing when I'm 29. 3 years later, I pretty much was still doing that. I don't mean to imply I was a drunk, just that my social life revolved around going out to pubs and not really a lot else. And I was single and had been for about 2 years. So I decided to take a sabbatical and left alone to go backpacking around Latin America.
   
   As the departure time got closer, I became more and more scared about doing this but I did it anyway. This is one of the things I've done in my life which I consider brave, since I had a choice and did it anyway, despite being scared. I met my husband in a restaurant in Quito, Ecuador. He had been in Quito for 3-4 months already. He was so confident and I was scared. You get the picture! 6 years and continents later, we got married.
   
   
3. I'm not seeing my therapist any more. We didn't click and the sessions ceased really helping. I said in a previous post that several people had said to me, "Maybe the baby didn't want to come." The comments I got were on the surprised side. Well, my therapist was one of those people. She said, "some babies just don't cling on to life." I think people say that because they are trying to take away some the mother's guilt feelings by placing some responsibility for staying alive on the baby. I thought and still think this is bullshit. It insulted Moksha by accusing him of being weak and by proxy, as his mother, I was insulted too. I also don't believe that a little baby has any responsibility to bear. That said, I couldn't tell you how old a child is when it has to accept some responsibility - I would guess that a two year old starts having some responsibility, as it starts to understand the concepts of right and wrong.
   
   
4. In NYC, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, we bought some very pretty Christmas cards. (I think that in the US, you can get much better and cheaper designs of all types of cards that in Europe, and I usually stock up on cards when I go there). But I told my husband that they were too joyful to send out this year. I said maybe next year. This year I've got a small number of Christmas cards from SANDS UK. I mean what are we going to say in them? 2006 sucked, roll on 2007? And actually I can't say that 2006 sucked, since that was 2/3rds of Moksha's short life. And I was happy for more than half of 2006.
   
   
5. Despite having an engineering degree (which I guess should imply good spatial reasoning), I do not instinctively know my left from my right. I have to take a second to think about it when someone tells me to turn right. DH thinks this is a man-woman difference. The other day we were watching a DVD and there was a guy in a helicopter with another guy on his right and one on his left. DH said something about the guy on the right. I had to mentally turn myself around, imagine myself in the helicopter and think, where's my right? It only takes a second, but I just don't know it automatically.
   
   For some reason, I always think of my knees when I'm figuring out right and left. I think it's because when I was little I scraped one knee quite badly and was left with a scar, and used the scar to know that that was my right knee. I don't exactly do that now, since I have scars on both knees now, but maybe that's why I think of my knees. Does this happen to you? Do you think it's a man-woman thing?
   

There you go! Hope it wasn't too boring. I think I only cheated on one thing from my 100 things post. Thanks for the tag, Artblog

NY, cycles, work

We spent a week in New York (well, we didn't actually venture out of Manhattan). There is a lot to see in New York and we certainly didn't see all of it! It was unseasonably warm, so our hats, gloves and scarves stayed in the suitcase. I couldn't get into the spirit of clothes shopping as I'm still not reconciled to my post pregnancy belly flab and didn't know my US size anymore and got pretty demotivated when I realised the larger size I had guessed at and taken into a fitting room along with the next size up to be sure were all still too small....

But we did the classics; among them: Empire State Building, MoMA, the Met, Ellis Island, Statue of Liberty, stroll in autumnal Central Park, boat trip around Manhattan Island, quick trip to the Museum of Natural History, my first ever basketball game (NY Knicks vs Cleveland Cavaliers) at Madison Square Garden. We didn't really understand the rules but we more or less followed it. I was going to buy a NY Knicks cap as a souvenir if they won... but they lost, so I didn't :o). Maybe I will post some pictures when I have loaded them off the camera.

We also managed to catch up with my younger cousin who lives in Philadelphia and my brother who was in New Jersey for business one night. DH, who speaks fluent English although it's not his first language, was overly intrigued by the New York way of saying the word "coffee" and kept saying to me, "shall we go and get a caawwfee" despite me telling him that someone would punch him soon unless he stopped doing that. Luckily I was wrong.

New places I have cried in: Little Italy, Starbucks (various), two Japanese restaurants near Times Square, an Indian restaurant in Greenwich Village, on a subway train on the way to JFK, in a midtown hotel room. I believe that the low points were accentuated by PMT - doesn't seem to make me irritable as before Moksha but more depressed now. And indeed CD1 manifested itself at JFK just before boarding our flight home.

So this is the first cycle we will be "allowed" to start TTC again. I have had four cycles since Moksha was born. The first lasted 10 days, the second 16 days, the third 23 days and the last one 29 days. I have been feeling slightly stressed about this "milestone" as there are now new unknowns to face - how long will it take to conceive, will there be a miscarriage, will the baby have a problem that is "incompatible with life", will I go to the doctor one day and find no heartbeat etc. etc. Goddammit these boil down to: 1) will there be another baby and 2) will he/she die before me?

But as I think I have said before, I don't think waiting two more months is going to help me in any of this. Secretly, although I don't like admitting it as I think I'm setting myself up for failure, I want to be pregnant before I'm 34. That's on 3rd January. Have I learned nothing about expectations in life?

I am going back to work on Monday afternoon. Not looking forward to it, but another thing that I just have to get through, another thing about which I have no choice. In the end I used all of the 16 weeks maternity leave I was entitled to which is a lot more than is available in some countries, I know. But until now, if I didn't want to deal with someone I was able to more or less ignore them and hide in my appartment; now I will be exposed to many more insensitive and / or inappropriate remarks. The very thin, new outer shell formed since Moksha died is going to be tested and will have to get a bit thicker.

Oh, and I have been tagged by Artblog, so that will have to be my next post.

Preparing to be brave

Positive things in my life right now:

- Husband who loves me and whom I love
- Loving family - mother, father, brother, all in reasonable health
- MIL and FIL who love and appreciate me
- No major daily-life-affecting health problems
- No major financial worries
- Nice appartment with beautiful surroundings
- Living in a stable, war-free country where my human rights are respected
- Enough under my belt to be appreciated at work even if I'm not there right now (return to work is coming up soon)
- I have a job and so does my husband

Negative things in my life:
- My baby son died
- I am very frightened another pregnancy not ending with a healthy living child
- I am on a roller-coaster of grief with lots of dips and not very many highs (and the highs are all relative) and I don't know when it will end, or if it will end.

******

Dealing with grief does not make me brave. There is no choice, other than checking out of life. I do not consider myself courageous just for not killing myself.

I can be considered brave when I have a choice between doing something that frightens me and not doing it.

Having a child is such a choice. A child may die at any moment: at 2 months gestation, at birth, at one month, at six years, at thirty years or after I'm dead. One thing is certain, death comes to everyone. Even after you safely deliver a child into the world, the risk of immense pain of losing what you hold so dear remains for the rest of your life. The risk applies to anyone you choose to love but we continue to be capable of love.

Why will I try again? Because I still think having a child will bring more joy to me and the world in its lifetime than fear and pain. I think that choosing to not try again because I am scared will bring me more pain than trying again despite the fear.

Yesterday evening I cried in fear of the future and fear of trying again. But I will try again. And then you can call me brave.

******

On Thursday I am leaving for a week in the Big Apple so will not be posting.

Family and the future

I have no cute stories from children of my own, so here are some from my niece who will be 2 this month.

She repeats things that people say to her a lot. My sister-in-law is 8 months pregnant and it's tough for her to pick my niece up. She read that you shouldn't blame the unborn baby for anything since the older child will start resenting the baby even before it's born. So my SIL says, Mummy's too big to pick you up.

Now whenever my niece asks to be picked up, she says, "Pick you up, pick you up" (she hasn't mastered the correct use of personal pronouns) and then immediately says, somewhat sadly, "Mummy too big."

When she cries for attention-seeking purposes, she says through her own tears, "Stop whining!"

When she wakes after a nap, you can apparently hear her saying to herself on the babycom "Don't worry, don't worry, Mummy's coming," followed by, "Don't worry, don't worry, Daddy's coming" if Mummy doesn't materialise immediately and - last week, when my mother was over there for a week - "Don't worry, don't worry, Dadima's coming," which obviously made my mother's day!

I should explain that In the Hindu culture of living together in extended families, terms like grandma or uncle are not precise enough. A word like uncle could be applied to many people in the same household. So there are special words for particular relationships, e.g. father's mother - Dadima, or mother's brother - Mamaji, or mother's brother's wife - Mamiji. For my niece, I am Buaji (father's sister) - she manages boo-ji at the moment - and my husband is Foofaji (father's sister's husband). The -ji suffix is to show respect to your elders. With these terms, you know the precise family relationship between one person and another.

Sigh. I am so sad that I will not get to teach my son these things. He should have learned to call my brother and SIL mamaji and mamiji and my niece - his elder girl cousin - didi (which means elder sister - in extended families, the same words are used for cousins as for brothers and sisters). My mother would have been Naniji (mother's mother) and my father Nanaji (mother's father). In addition to all that, he would have been brought up bilingually, with English from me and French from my husband. He would have been quite the multicultural kid!

I guess that we are officially "allowed" to start TTC in 2-3 weeks' time. The doctor-recommended physical wait (4 months) will be over and then it's up to me and when I feel mentally ready. Well, no, I don't feel very confident, but I also don't think waiting an extra 2 months is going to make me feel any more confident. I think the next pg will be extremely tough no matter how long I wait. I desperately want a baby (note the careful choice of words - I don't particularly want to go through the pregnancy bit again even though I loved my last pregnancy - but no choice on that bit) and waiting isn't going to ease any mental anguish. I think a part of my grief for Moksha cannot be lived until I have his brother or sister and realise on another level what I lost in shared future with him.

I was 32 when we conceived Moksha. Now, all of a sudden, I will be 34 in January and nearly 35 - at the earliest - when (if) I have my next child. I have to balance my fear of being too old with my fear of not being mentally ready and my fear of the next pg. It's great to talk about pregnancy in terms of fear, isn't it?