Round-Up

I don't have a great deal of time or energy at the moment (which nearly came out at the mo, as I've spent too much time round Brit lit of late). So here is a brief summary:

-ttc has taken a back burner. We're not actively or desperately trying, nor are we preventing. If it happens, great. If not, well, given everything thing at the mo, that may be for the best for a bit.

-trying to exercise more regularly. It's going. That's it on that front right now.

-work. I don't talk much about work here for very good reasons, but it's sort of taken over my life for the forseeable future. Layoffs have officially begun, and my job remains safe, thank god. However, when the news was broken about the plans (even though the majority of the layoffs affecting my division are currently on hold for up to a year), one department administrator immediately submitted her retirement. And I've been given that department, in addition to my own work.

That department is a bit of a mess and I'll be doing what had previously been two full time jobs until the remaining layoff plans go into effect. And it does not appear at this point in time that there will be additional compensation (after all, we are letting half the department administrators go, so I should be grateful to have a safe job).

But it's overwhelming and coming at a time when things are already busy and overwhelming. And the start of layoffs means that my office has also just inherited two other small departments and have no financial coordinator for one of our sub-departments. And the administrator for one of our larger departments is going on leave for three months in a few weeks.

Did I mention we have a new boss in the midst of this? At least he seems to be a nice guy and good manager.

Everyday, we walk around looking tense and stressed and that is nothing to how we feel. But we're all doing the best we can, and we'll get through. It's just . . . there is no end in sight at the moment. I'll be splitting my time between two departments and . . . well, as I said, 2 full time jobs and just one me. I'm going to learn delegation and efficiency quite quickly, I suppose.

-Coming up on the one year anniversary of Gabe's birth and death. There is a lot of reflection happening and maybe at some point I'll try to lay out just how this past year has changed me and try to explain how far I've come. I've tried a few times over the past week to write a post, but the words just aren't flowing right now. There is a barrier up against it.

I'm feeling a good deal of anxiety and sadness as we approach the date. I find myself suddenly on the verge of tears without knowing precisely why. I am more sensitive to things that wouldn't have bothered me a few weeks ago. I don't know what to expect or how to approach this and so I'm just in limbo, waiting, watchful.

All in all, with everything that's going on and the level of stress I am under, I'm amazed I can string coherent sentences together most of the time. Fatigue is high, I go to bed hours earlier (but don't seem to be getting rested as I'd like), stumble out of bed, awaking from strange dreams feeling tired. I am having semi-frequent headaches, and my back, shoulders and neck are getting sore from the tension I seem to be carrying. So I'm trying to remember to do stretches more frequently, get up and walk around a bit more often, trying not to overindulge in things that will make me feel worse (too much caffeine and sugar, primarily). DH continues to make me laugh and takes care of me. I listen to music far too loudly and sing along and I hurl virtual bowling bowls down a Wii alley at high velocity and I curl up with a book when I can to try and alleviate the tension and stress, or at least keep them at manageable levels.

Some times that works better than others.

New Discussion topic up on Glow

This week's discussion topic focuses on negative emotions in the wake of baby-loss. What have you felt that has stuck around longer than you anticipated? What negative emotions have been surprisingly strong? How do you feel about your negative emotions? How do you handle them? How have they changed?

Babylost parents, family and friends - please drop by Glow's discussion boards to join in and share your perspectives.

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/discussion/

My baby died. I'm fucking sad.

That's about all that needs to be said tonight.

But I'll add this.

I feel so lonely right now, so left behind that I can't stand it. I feel like my heart is going to break open from the pressure of the pain I feel right now.

I haven't cried in weeks. I finished with most that months ago. But tonight I can't seem to stop and I have to stop. It upsets DH and makes him unhappy and concerned and he feels impotent because he can't make this better for me and seeing his pain and causing it, to any degree, tears me up and makes the hurt that much worse.

I miss my old life and the life I thought I would have. I miss the touch of optimism and hope and belief that everything will turn out according to something I couldn't have seen before.

I miss old friends. I miss my purpose in life. I hate the fact that I know only a few people who are not pregnant or don't have kids and since it's by choice for them we stand on opposite sides of a divide.

I miss my son. More than there are words to express. I miss every milestone we never got, I miss everything I never got to tell him and I miss him.

My baby died.

I'm fucking sad.

One of those honest, but less-than-attractive sorts of posts

I don't like pregnant women any more. The sole exception is my friend C. Because we tend to think along the same lines in pregnancy and she's been pretty sensitive to me. Because it's all about me, obviously.

I especially don't like being asked to be near them or newly born babies.

I don't want to hear stories about trying to conceive unless it's been long and agonizing because then, I don't mind being around you so much.

I've got no problems with you if you've had previous losses or infertility - because then you're my kind of people. We can look at each other and nod.

Women who get pregnant really easily or have 'oops' babies? I can't stand them right now.

It's awful. It's unattractive. It's ridiculous because I know, I know, how hard pregnancy is regardless. I know what a big life change it is, I know how carefully made plans falling aside can be horrifyingly big deals and . . . I know.

I sort of despise myself for the bitterness that can flood up in me. I sometimes have to stop myself from giving dirty looks.

It's solely a result of envy and disappointment. Neither of which are healthy or desirable emotions. Both of which I am ashamed of feeling ever in regards to something as happy as new life.

I know that another woman's pregnancy has nothing to do with my lack thereof or bad luck in pregnancy. I know that I truly wish every woman gets to remain blissfully ignorant and unaware that disaster and utter desolation are lurking right around the corner and that they are in no way immune because of any thing they have done or are doing or haven't done. Death doesn't care if you never smoked or drank a sip of alcohol or that you faithfully took your folic acid and ate your vegetables and slept on your left side.

I see it lurking all around, tragedy waiting to strike. It hides just out of view in the aisles of stores, it haunts these happy naive, you can just catch a glimpse if your turn your head, if you look me in the eyes. I fear I'm a bad luck charm, that I summon these ghosts and demons as my companions. If nothing else, I remind you of what is out there and I can't stay my lips. I want to implore you to please appreciate what you have and please don't take it for granted and assume it's a sure thing. Listen to the warnings that fall from my lips, but I'm a Cassandra, a speaker of doom that is not believed and truly of doom that may never appear.

Because what I can never remember is that I am the small minority, the statistical anomaly, the place that lightning struck. The rest of the world is fine.

Place in the World.

Something I've been tossing about for a couple of days now is about places. Where we belong, who we are, how we find those spots that are ours.

Naturally, this was sparked by a twitter debate, yet again. A young English chap - in fact, the very same that spawned my last diatribe - has made me think. He is quite a confident person, which is all well and good. I find myself shockingly less so. Perhaps it's a difference in personalities - he is obviously an extrovert, eager to meet new people. I'm very much the opposite in most areas of my life.

I do enjoy meeting new people, but only in quiet, controlled sorts of ways. I like substance in my conversation, the chance to really dig down and get to someone in more than a superficial way (which is not to say he doesn't also look for that; I really wouldn't know). I guess it's odd that an introvert like me has a blog, participates actively on message boards and revels in over-sharing the most banal thoughts and events on twitter.

And yet . . . I don't mind. Probably because I still have trouble believing that these things perhaps move me out of my shadowy corner and thrust me on stage. I never was a very good actress, preferring stage management and direction to the spotlight. If nothing else - it was often itchy and hot under those lights. The background was cool and infinitely more comfortable.

I do wonder though, how he's found such confidence, such assurance about himself and who he is and where he's going. On a daily basis, I look at myself in the mirror with something approaching disbelief. I haven't any idea what I'm doing much of the time, certainly none about where I'm going - not while the only firm direction I've had is contained in a wood box on my mantle and nothing has come forth to replace it.

I said awhile back that I wondered about big things versus little things. That I used to feel destined for great things and am realizing that perhaps the little things are the great ones.

I still don't know where I'm going. My career is one that pays bills, it's not one that makes my heart beat faster or really fills me with pleasure because I enjoy it. I'm quite grateful for it - especially after today. I think I'm decent at it, which is fine. But it's not a great thing. It's a paycheck. That's fine.

My marriage is a good thing. One of the best things of my life, I think. That was one thing I knew and continue to know - the boat, I imagine fancifully, that keeps me out of the depths of the sea.

My friendships - I can only be humbled and grateful for you wonderful people. I do not deserve you.

But you know, there is more. There is more I do and more to me. And as of today, I have a new direction and something that does fulfill me and makes me so very happy.

You can read a bit about it here.

One thing I can do is sit with those who are newly grieving, and let them grieve. I can talk with those who need to converse as badly as I did and give them the understanding I received. I can be an ear, and I can hopefully comfort and soothe provoke and help. I can give back a small portion of what I've been given.

And I believe with all my heart that if this is the best of my life, it will be something great.

Less than 6 weeks now

August 24th is coming up. Six weeks from yesterday. Some days it feels like a ticking timebomb hanging over me (literally, I picture a giant bomb wired to an old fashioned ticking alarm clock and a giant calendar) (living inside my head is plain weird, y'all).

Mostly though, it feels awkward.

An entire trip around the sun to come back meet myself again. It's like a weird sci-fi story in which a part of me was forever rooted to that moment in time (I can still see it in vivid detail, and feel the hospital gown at my throat and the scratchy white sheets and how hot and thirsty I was and the pain the pain the pain). The rest of me though, that was pushed onward and now I come full circle to where I was before, only time has passed.

Still, I stand rooted there, watching it play out over and over and over. That day still flashes through my head and I still hold my breath waiting for a different outcome. It never changes though.

Gabriel was born. Gabriel died. The world never stopped moving, no matter how much I pleaded, and I was carried along with it. Or at least part of me was.

And back again.

How do you mark that passage of time? Gabriel deserves acknowledgement. His existence deserves acknowledgement.

But it's not celebration.

Because he died.

But it's not total mourning.

Because he lived.

I don't know what we do in six week's time, less a day.

There is no grave to visit - his box of ashes remains on our mantle, never far from me when I'm home. There is no memorial or marker. Sometimes I wish there was.

What do we do? Sending up a balloon feels . . . odd. Baking a cake does as well. In some ways, a dinner out and a toast - an acknowledgement of him and of how life continues, feels the most right - and yet, who wants to sob in public? Who wants stilted dinner conversation or to pay good money for food that tastes like ashes in your mouth?

I'm taking the day off work. DH is not. It's bad timing - as it was when it all happened last year. I don't begrudge him choosing to work; he'd rather. He doesn't begrudge me staying home, I'd rather.

I wish I knew what was right for us. I think it will be time for my new tattoo. I'm not sure where yet, but I want this footprints marked on me. I want to visibly carry him with me everywhere.Maybe I'll find a quiet place and I'll take the outfit I bought just for him, the only one not packed away in the spare room. And I'll take Winnie-the-Pooh and I'll finish reading the story to him that I started the day before he was born. I like to think that he would want to know how it ends.

Also on my mind

Apparently I'm feeling chatty for the moment.

I could tweet this, but I feel this worthy of being shared with the masses.

'Fuck' is one of my favorite words. Truly.

It's so wonderfully appropriate to so many situations and acts as a great enhancer. And it can serve a function in so many parts of speech.

We used to joke that 'fuck' would be our child's first word.

Should we ever have one with a chance at living, it wouldn't surprise me. We use it that much. Which probably, in reality, makes us sort of trashy.

But ask me if I fucking care?