Triggers

They are every where this week...it has not been an easy week. Ironically this has nothing to do with hormones (do not start the next cycle's meds for a week or two, no where near PMS time).

It is all grief. There have been lots of tears and very little I can do about it. I have no choice but to surrender to my feelings.

Today was supposed to be a stellar day...it was a staff development day and every year the art teachers in my district take a field trip in to NYC to visit one of the major museums and write a lesson plan/unit based on something we see. This year we went to Metropolitan Museum of Art and there is always lots to see. I also planned a lunch date with my hubby which was an added bonus. Sounds perfect...except it wasn't. Don't get me wrong, it was a pretty good day. But grief added to the cloudy autumn day.

I am usually all for bringing children of all ages to a museum...start them young! It seemed like there was an awful lot of little boys in the 6-10 month range (the should be age of my boys had they been born on their due date through their birth/death days). I could keep it together seeing them, but it made me want to be carrying one of my boys in a sling and pushing the other in an umbrella stroller. (Sigh)

On the way to meet hubby for lunch I decided to cross through Central Park to catch the train down to Wall Street. Again...lots of strollers but it wasn't until I reached the saxophonist playing under the bridge that I became unhinged. He was playing a slow version of "Somewhere Under the Rainbow" that made my heart ache and the tears flow. Thank goodness for large sunglasses and a tiny hint of sun on an otherwise cloudy day to hide my tears and I crossed through one of my favorite places on earth. It was too much to keep inside.

By the time I got to the subway I had pulled myself together enough to take off my sunglasses and get downtown to enjoy a yummy lunch. Tempura cheesecake...a nice way to end a lunch! (They are mini-cheesecake squares coated in tempura breading and lightly fried) After lunch I went back up town for more time at the museum.

There were a few art works that I stumbled upon that reflected my mood so well I wanted to share them. First I turned face to face with The Massacre of the Innocents by Francois Joseph Navez.

This woman is holding her dead child and clearly is mourning her loss. And in her I see me. Here is a detail...

 She is not sobbing, she is crying and looking lost. Oh how I can relate!

On my way out I passed through a hall with a number of sculptures (mostly studies for larger works) by Rodin. The one that pulled me in was Fallen Caryatid Carrying a Stone.

Her burden is heavy and the description tag (which I generally avoid reading to rely on my own observations rather than an art historian, but on occasion I like to learn more) and the last line stopped me in my tracks...

"The variant seems less weighed down by her stone than by some unsupportable loss or nameless agony of the soul."

Yup...I have an agony of my soul, and it has a name. It is a loss that feels too heavy to carry, but I have no choice. For the rest of my days I will have this feeling as a part of me. Some days it is more pronounced. But it is there always.

I have a feeling the time between now and December 4th and 5th are going to be rough going.

Remembering

Yesterday I lit this candle for Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day.

I chose it because it has three wicks...three glowing flames.

One for William...
One for Ethan...
One for all of the babies that can only be held in their parents hearts, not their arms.

As I lit each one I thought "You are loved!"

As I blew them all out I made a wish that yesterday not a single baby was gone too soon. Just for one day, but I am sure (sadly) that more joined the sad club of parents who know our awful truth that babies die. I wish it wasn't so.

Game Over

Got the call...bloodwork was negative. This cycle has ended with nothing to show for it except a weight gain and another feeling of failure. I am going to indulge in sorrow for the loss of another chance and a few items I have avoided while cycling... - fully caffinated pumpkin spice latte (check) - chocolate brownies (check) - great bottle of wine (saving for later, but check) - sushi dinner tonight (also for later, but check) I think I was expecting a negative so I don't feel as upset as I expected, but it still sucks. I think it bothered me just a little more because during my post-bloodwork nap I had a dream about a baby girl. In the dream I was laying on the floor breast feeding her and it felt amazing...of course it was a funny dream and she puked on my face but the over all feeling was one of contentment. I want that...I guess it is just going to take a lot longer than planned, if at all. Game over...let the pity party begin.

Last Night of Waiting...

One more sleep and the wait will be over...I am so anxious to know one way or another if this cycle worked or not. As the week has slowly crept by I have only gotten more and more anxious.

I am not very confident that I am pregnant. My gut says no, but then again it did last time too. I also have to keep in mind that any "symptoms" will be milder because their might only be one (if any) little one in there. Last time there were two and my levels were crazy high.

My bestie at school bought me a bracelet with a "hope" charm on it to remind me to believe getting pregnant is possible. It has a stretchy elastic band and she tells me that when ever I am a doubter I should pull it and let it go in order to "snap" out of it! I've tried it a few times and it helps.

I am still a doubter, but I am trying to balance it with a bit of hope.

Tomorrow I will see how much hope is left.

Ten Months...

Tonight my heart is aching for my boys...ten months ago they were born too soon. Ten months ago my body failed them. Ten months ago my life was turned inside out and will never be the same. Ten months of tears. Ten months trying to figure out how to live with out them. Ten months of feeling a hollowness that will never be filled. Ten months since two pieces of my heart were gone forever. I love you William and Ethan. I miss you both so very much.

Waiting...

When you have experienced any sort of infertility and are trying to get pregnant waiting becomes a part of your life and it is a trial for those with the best of patience. I used to be a patient person...not so much any more. Knowing that I have to wait five more days to find out if this cycle worked or not is not easy. I also have some pro.gesterone side affects which may or may not be good signs...heartburn all the time, tender breasts, tired constantly...but I don't dare read too much into them.

I am very grateful that I have had an art educators conference to distract me yesterday, today and again tomorrow. I enjoy learning and gathering new ideas from my colleagues that I can take back and use in my own classroom in one way or another. This has kept my mind off of my cycle for the most part...

Except the part where nearly half of the art teachers in this state must be pregnant (the other half are about to retire and a small portion are men). Seriously. Bumps of all sizes are in every single talk or workshop I have attended. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a little, but I started counting after lunch and there was at least 2 obviously pregnant women in the 4 talks/workshops I attended after lunch.

The last talk I attended was given by a woman, bless her heart, is due in 20 days. How she lasted all day and was able to present at 4:30 is beyond me. I was amazed she made it through with out her water breaking...she is riding low and I am sure she won't make it to her due date. She was so damned optimistic, naive, and smiley too. She was so freaking confident that everything is going to turn out peachy keen...and I sat in her audience and kept my dark thoughts and knowledge to my self. I also wished and hoped with all that I had that she never ever knows what I know...that sometimes things don't have a happy ending.

I should probably back up and say that I took a long walk at lunch to get away from the preggo bellies. I found my local hit for a  (decaf) pumpkin spice latte and ended up standing behind a lady waiting for her coffee beverage with an adorable little girl and an older woman who asked all sorts of questions about the cutie pie that wanted desperately to walk, in spite of not yet having the hang of this whole walking business. Turns out cutie pie is about to turn 10 months old.

By some miracle of the universe my drink was ready first and I could bolt before I lost it. I did manage to not cry for the rest of the afternoon but my mind was in a very dark and morbid place. Oh to have even a little bit of optimism...not likely considering all that I know.