life without my baby

happy almost birthday my first born

it could have been a happy day

instead of the nightmare that altered the course of my life

what would you have looked liked at four years old?

at three? at two? at one? at birth?

we will never know

many people tell us that we make beautiful babies

and i’m sure you would have been beautiful like your brothers

today we’ll take them out for ice-cream in your honor

to remember the big brother they will never know

i sometimes imagine you playing, running, jumping

walking behind me

what would you have been like?

all would have been very different if you had lived

we will never know

never know you

but we hold you in our hearts

and love you

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i can’t believe it’s been a year since i’ve been here. not just have i not written. i have just not been here at all. no reading posts. no keeping up with my peeps here. i just came to visit my blog and a few others the other day and saw that angie has posted this right where i am project once again. thank you.

i haven’t been in babylost land lately. and thankfully. i’ve been in another world. the land of living babies. i remember so distinctly the feeling of having fallen through a crack, like alice in wonderland perhaps, but much harsher obviously. a crack that separated this normal life with the life of the babylost. the dead baby society- that you never hear or know about, like it doesn’t really exist.

well now i’m back in that normal mommy baby land. and sometimes i still feel like a fake. because so many people don’t know where i’ve been. and what exists on the other side.

so where am i now: today is the 20th so it’s 3 years and 10 months exactly since lev’s death, or really since his being born dead.

i think about him, what i’ve been through and how i would have had an almost 4 year old, often. but not constantly. sporadically. mostly when i’m around people who have a 4 year old, or almost 4 year old. when i see people with 3 boys. yes, 3, i can’t imagine that would be me, but i guess in some alternate reality it might have been.

and on mother’s day of course i remember lev. i remember my first mother’s day, when i was pregnant and someone wished me happy mother’s day. and then the following mother’s day and how hellish it was. and now with my two living children and my third invisible one. there is still a bittersweetness.

since i’ve been here last, i’ve had another baby boy. a beautiful, amazing, happy chubby little guy. lev’s littlest brother. i now have two living children. a 27 month old and an almost 7 month old. wow. that is still hard for me to believe. although it’s very real.

i am consumed by motherhood. i hardly have a moment to myself anymore. sometimes i am frustrated and feel like i’m going to lose it and then i gain some perspective and remember the depths of grief i experienced. i kiss my boys so deeply, hug them so tightly, and love them so intensely. i am so incredibly grateful for them.

and i’m still trying to make sense of this journey, not that you can make sense of a baby dying. but somehow i’m still trying to figure out who i am after losing my first baby, what i believe in.

recently i went for a walk ( alone!) by the water. a place that was really my refuge for so long. the sun was setting and i just felt myself, my body, my soul. remembering walking the same path time and again. pregnant, grieving, pregnant again. i turned the corner and saw a group of people standing together. i slowed down, feeling the sadness and sacredness of the gathering. i saw a small altar with a picture of a man close to my age, flowers adorning it. i walked up the hill and sat on a bench and began to cry. as i continued walking i cried harder, my body remembering the trauma of carrying and birthing my baby dead. my first child. long-awaited.

i feel death more acutely perhaps now. i know there’s a very thin veil. that any moment anything can happen and our lives will be forever changed. i think about death too much sometimes. and worry too much.i fear losing those i love and fear them losing me.

i always look at the plaques on the benches i sit on. the one i sat on that day after encountering the memorial gathering had this quote by Hellen Keller on it. ‘Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature…Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.‘

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Right where I am now…
Thank you for organizing this project Angie, you are truly inspiring

:::::

Where am I now?
This is a good question
One that I rarely have time to think about, yet write about
I don’t make enough time for me these days
I am now a full time mom to a living toddler and sometimes I feel like I’m barely keeping up
and still I am not getting enough sleep

I am different, forever changed
And also different from those early days where I was consumed by my grief

I am so grateful to have found the babyloss community and specifically a small group of mamas who lost their babies around the same time
I spent my days emailing and commenting on the blogs of these babylost mamas and they helped me feel sane and supported in a world that has no space for grief or dead babies

I also wrote a lot -words of anger, jealousy, shame and bitterness poured out of me. I couldn’t wrap my brain around what had happened- one moment a happy expectant mom, the next a bereaved one. With no chance of really being a mom at all. Holding my dead son briefly in my arms. Coming home to emptiness and meaningless. Wanting desperately to wake up from the nightmare that was now my life.

Time moved forward around me, without my baby, without my motherhood. Other babies were born and grew. But I stood still.

Now life is so very different.
I’m so grateful to be given another chance at motherhood. Judah makes life worth living again. He keeps me busy, entertained and has helped me open my heart again.

Sometimes I feel Lev watching us, standing next to us.

Judah has a favorite book about two bear cub brothers and each time i read it i can’t help but think about what it would have been like for him to have his big brother around.

I am constantly looking at other almost three year olds and wondering what mine would have looked like, what he would have been doing.

I still feel angry sometimes and jealous that other people around me have all their children. But the jealousy and the why me just passes through my mind momentarily, it doesn’t fester, it doesn’t send me crying into my house after seeing friends walk by with their babies.

I have been able to be around friends and their children. yet still it’s hard for me to see those who were pregnant when I was pregnant with Lev.

I needed to blame someone, direct my anger somewhere. I screamed and swore at the universe and god. Now I just don’t believe in a god that blesses or curses, protects or hurts. I don’t really believe in god. And don’t believe things happen for a reason. I have a hard time with my religion these days and many people around me who do believe these things.

I can dance again. It took a long time. I couldn’t even listen to music in the beginning. I have made friends with my body and come home to my dance, and it is healing and vital. I thought of a bumper sticker I want to have ‘dance til you die’.

Mostly I am so fully focused on and in love with my living son. He continuously amazes me, makes me laugh and cry tears of gratitude. I watch him sleep and tears well up in my eyes. I hold him tight when we cuddle and watch the rise and fall of his breath.

And that doesn’t mean that I am healed. That having Judah means I don’t grieve anymore.

In some ways the grief is deeper experiencing life with Judah. Each minute I am so aware of the magnitude of all we lost with Lev as I witness how amazing it is to have a living child.

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today is judah’s first birthday

one year old

one year alive

one year of being a mama to a living child

one year of watching him grow

it is miraculous

*

today we celebrated

we have a lot to celebrate

we know how lucky we are this time around

we know how precious life is

we are so grateful to have judah

*

today i remember judah’s birth

not the way it was planned

my doctor said she thought i was going to be an easy patient, a scheduled c-section

i had started going in twice a week for testing

everything looked fine, normal

but i knew that normal could change in an instant

that day i was on my way to the farmer’s market

i had just read an article about staying pregnant as long as possible

i was happy with our plan to deliver at 39 weeks

and then i felt something wet

i called my doctor and she said to go to the hospital and just check it out

i drove there alone

went into that same triage room i had been in when i didn’t feel movement in my first pregnancy

it was a little eery

i felt this baby kick

i knew it was different this time

this baby moved a lot

but still i was scared

i was only 33 1/2 weeks

i lay there as the nurse came and checked me

she thought it was probably nothing

but soon enough she was back telling me i wouldn’t be going home

i was worried

this is not what we had planned

this is not even something i had worried about before

a premature baby

my water breaking at 33 weeks

so there is was in the hospital about to deliver my baby

we had nothing planned or prepared

my doctor was shocked

the nurse i had just seen in the nst the day before was shocked

everything looked so normal

although i had felt some crampy feelings a few days earlier

i had also spent the weekend organizing and lifting heavy things

had i caused this?

would my baby be ok?

i spent the next several days in the hospital

we moved in

waiting a few days til we got to 34 weeks and if i hadn’t gone into labor we would have a c-section

the day before the planned caesarian we spoke to a nicu doctor and went up there for a visit

i came back sobbing and freaking out

i couldn’t sleep that night

i was so worried about having a premature baby

a sick baby

a baby in the nicu

i couldn’t believe that this was happening

the ptsd came back being in the nicu

being in the same hospital

we decided to wait with the c-section

i was just too exhausted emotionally and physically

drained

and scared

my doctor was not happy with our decision

that night i started to freak out again

this time i worried about the baby dying inside

i wanted constant monitoring of his heart rate

but they only did it every few hours

every story of every baby i knew that died in utero came into my mind

would the chord wrap around my babies neck and strangle him? would the placenta separate and kill him? would an infection enter my body because of my water breaking and cause him to die?

i was really freaking out

i called the doctor on call in the middle of the night

she ordered tests and said i should call her back to tell her what i wanted to do

i wanted him out

i was done

done with the fear of not knowing what was happening in there

the fear of pregnancy

the fear of stillbirth

the fear of losing another child

i needed him out

so that morning we prepared

we spent the day getting ready

waiting

and then the time came

i was prepped for surgery

our friend was coming in to the or

she was a nurse at the hospital

i had friends on call ready to be with me in the recovery room

my mom was on a plane

arik was prepared to go with the baby to the nicu

we were in a room almost identical to the operating room we were in a year and a half ago

but that day there was complete silence in the room

you could hear a pin drop

my midwife had been there

her face haunting white

her eyes big

no sound

but today march 20, 2010 the room was alive

the doctors played music

and chatted with each other

there were cameras flashing

a buzz in the air

they called arik to take pictures

as they were taking the baby out

and then all of a sudden a cry

a loud cry

a live baby

my baby

tears welled up in my eyes

i couldn’t actually believe it

that we had a living baby

they brought him over wrapped up like a little burrito

his beautiful face poking out

then he went with his dad up to the nicu

and i went to the recovery room

again in the same room i had been in august 2008

no baby next to me

but friends were there

and it was so very different this time

then i was finally ready to go upstairs and see my baby

i was wheeled up to the nicu for a glimpse of him

he was in his papa’s arms, chest to chest

his small perfect living breathing body

what a miracle

i could not sleep

i didn’t want to be apart from my baby

i cried

but at least arik was with him

those days were hard

having to be with him in the nicu

in our tiny room

wires and beeping

sick babies all around

traumatized parents

i saw a woman who recognized me from the babyloss support group

she had just had another baby too

hers was born just one pound, but was doing well

so intense this baby making business is

so fragile this new life

*

we were lucky

judah spent just two days in the nicu and then came to our room

and we all went home together soon after

a miracle really (i have used that word a lot today…)

leaving the hospital with my baby in my arms was surreal

it was hard to believe that it was true and real

that we had a living baby

after all we had been through

after all that we had lost

after we had been so very unlucky

*

we are beyond grateful for our second son judah sky

our living boy

he is beautiful

and amazing

and funny

and adorable

i only wish that his brother could be with us too

and that we would have both our boys- lev river and judah sky- growing up together, forever

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i miss my blog

i miss writing

i miss this community

i miss reading

i miss having time to myself

and getting 8 hours of sleep uninterrupted

and yet i don’t miss those days of having too much time

with no baby to take care of

only to write and read and grieve

i am happy to be busy with my sweet baby boy

i am starting to be a bit more social

starting to be around other moms and babies

and that brings up a lot

is this your first is still a popular question

and then there are the moms with their new babes and their two year olds

and all i can think of is that should be me

but it’s invisible

my loss, my grief, the way my body has changed with two pregnancies

i don’t automatically share lev with everyone

i am selective

i take care of others

i don’t want to make them uncomfortable

or ruin the image of the happy new mom they see before them

but then i am left feeling like a fake

and i miss my community

i miss those of you who know

who have been there

who are there

i miss my true friends

and i miss being real

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today i’m thinking about marieke

today should be her third birthday

there should be cake and candles and friends

but instead there are tears

and longing

and sadness

we met marieke’s moms in the support group we went to just a few times

they have become our dear friends

please visit their blog if you have a chance

and send some love

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it’s a new year in the jewish calendar. a time for reflection and renewal. as i sit and write this post most jews are in synagogue, nearing the end of a 27 hour fast. i went to some of the service last night and last week as well. the first time i had set foot inside a synagogue since lev died.

i found myself singing a long a bit, swaying to the songs with judah in my arms. yet i do not relate to the prayers, the words and the idea that today we need to ask god to forgive us for all of our wrongdoings. however i do feel that it is a good time for me to reflect on how i am in the world and how i would like to be.

over the last two years i have gone to dark places. i have experienced a horrific, traumatic loss that will always be with me. i have been left feeling afraid and traumatized. sometimes i recall every details and feeling of when lev died. sometimes i imagine more terrible things happening to myself, my family and my friends.

just last night i dreamt that my friend’s baby died in labor. and i was screaming at the universe.

a few days ago a man admired my baby and asked if he was our first. a question i get all the time. i had decided that part of my new year’s resolution was to be more honest. to share lev with people. and yet in this moment, with a stranger on a ferry, i didn’t. when he walked away my mind went back to the days in the hospital after lev died and before he was born. every detail implanted in my mind. i thought about how i behaved then. how i got through those days. we cried a lot in that hospital room. but i also put on a mask of denial or shock or something, in order to survive. i wonder why i didn’t scream then. was i in too much shock? or have i just been trained to be a good sweet girl who doesn’t do that sort of thing, even when her baby dies?

in the last few weeks i have been able to be real with some people, those that are not strangers but rather family members who i’ve been holding on my black list, or maybe gray. i hadn’t heard much from these people when lev died and was upset about it. you see i have a list in my mind, i admit it. there are people who have been there and people who haven’t and frankly i don’t feel like i have the energy for those who haven’t. some friends who i just don’t really feel like i can truly open my heart to, and perhaps that’s because we were never that close. but i guess maybe family is different, i don’t know. these few cousins i hadn’t seen since lev died and so i was open and real with them. i didn’t wait for them to ask me i just spoke about how my life is different now. how i am different. and it felt good. real. honest.

so i decided that was going to be my new year’s resolution. something i would like to change about myself.

i know that i have been bitter and angry in these past two years. i have been sad too. but often my sadness comes out as anger and jealousy. and judgment. why did this happen to me? to my baby? why didn’t this person do this? or why do they have such an easy time and i don’t. i guess my way has always been to compare myself and feel jealous. i often feel like i’ve experienced more suffering than most people around me and that i can’t relate to anyone unless they have lost a baby too. i  know this can be dangerous and self-righteous.

i feel that my heart has hardened in these past two years.

i am thankful for my sweet living son who has brought joy and love back into my life.

and i still have work to do. i know.

i would like to let go of some of the anger. and yet it is hard. last night’s dream of screaming at the universe showed me just how much rage i still have.

so in this new year i ask forgiveness from those that i have judged harshly. for creating stories about others. for hardening my heart. and for spending too much time wrapped up in my own suffering.

i do know that life can change in a instant and we can lose everything just like that. and so i want to remember this and appreciate each moment. each breath. each tree. each kiss. each smile.

thank you for reading.

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it’s been a long time since i’ve written here, or anywhere. i have been busy. thrown back into the world of the living. enjoying the summertime with my sweet living baby boy. but each day i also remember the son who is not with us, the big brother we never got to know. and now those days are upon us. the dates, the anniversary of his death and birth. reliving the memories of those horrid days of disbelief; the nightmare. life now seems normal. somehow the nightmare has faded into the background of my life and the loss of my firstborn has become my initiation into motherhood. still the saddest story. still the anger, the grief and the jealousy lingers.

i try not to look at those two year olds at the farmer’s market. the moms i knew briefly as our bellies grew. expecting to make playdates and moms groups. and then my world came crashing down and theirs went on just as planned. joy and sleeplessness for them and grief, anger, smashing bottles and babylost blogland for me.

the horror of those days, weeks and months is only just beneath the surface now. i feel like a survivor. carrying around post traumatic baggage that manifests in fear and worry.

much of the time i am smiling these days. i am in deep love and awe of my living son. i am so grateful for his existence. i have so much love for him. he gets all the love i have been holding for so long. the love that i longed to give to lev.

so on this two year anniversary i am feeling the magnitude of all that i have lost. the two year old that should be here now. the older brother that will never be. the two years that i have spent crying, screaming, trying to pick up the pieces and continue living instead of raising my first-born son. loving him, kissing him, holding him, nursing him, feeding him, watching him learn to walk and talk. so much that we have missed. a lifetime. a son. a brother. a grandson. a cousin. a friend. a first-born baby boy. a toddler. a pre-schooler. a child. a teenager. a man.

today and everyday we think of our sweet boy, lev river. we think of the months he was with us. the kicks we felt. the ultrasounds we saw and the lifeless body we held. but mostly we think about the future memories of a boy we never got to know and a man who never got to live.

we love you lev. we will always love you and miss you. forever.

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i would like to keep writing here. there is a lot to write about. a lot to process. it’s not necessarily about lev but it’s about my journey, having a live baby, still being a babylost mama, all of it. but it’s hard to find the time to sit down and write these days. i get inspirations for a post and then they slowly fade as time goes by.

days pass around here and i don’t really do all that much. it’s a lot if i get out of the house for a walk with judah or a brief errand. mostly it’s feeding and sleeping for him and me trying to clean, cook, take a shower, get dressed. it’s sounds like a normal first few months with a baby. but i still don’t feel very normal. i am very in love, very grateful for my sweet boy. my second. i am very visible as a new mom now. but very invisible as well. everyone assumes that this is our first. wishes for a happy first mother’s day came from everyone who saw us that day, people who knew us and those who didn’t. and of course it was a very different mother’s day than last year or the year before. but it was still bittersweet.

i am in awe of judah. he really is gorgeous. and sometimes i just sit there and look at him with tears coming down my face. it’s hard to believe that i have a living baby in my arms. it feels like it’s a dream sometimes, i pinch myself but he’s still here. sometimes i find myself waiting for something bad to happen, like this is just too good to be true. i watch to make sure he’s still breathing. but i still go to bed and fear lurks over me. i imagine the worst scenarios. and then i wake up and remain in love and grateful.

the joy that comes from others is hard at times, when it seems to negate our past. ignoring our first child. we’ve bumped into people we haven’t seen since i was pregnant with lev and they are all smiles and mazel tovs. but we never once heard from them when we were grieving our first-born. it’s hard for me to let go. but i am slowly trying to let go of my judgments of others. trying to realize that we all have varying capacities. and many people are just unable to deal with death, let alone the death of a baby. and i honestly don’t know how i would have dealt with it if it happened to someone else. but i know now how i will in the future. it’s all just an interesting sociological experiment.

i do feel like i’m back in the world. back in the life of the living. like we appear all normal now. other parents talk to us on the street. we are happy with our new baby boy. yet the rest of our story is so invisible.

i think a lot about how i fell into the underworld when lev died. i had that image all the time, like i was walking a long a path that was known and joyful and we all thought we knew the outcome and could see our future. and then all of a sudden i fell into a pit, a deep dark hole. one that i never knew existed. one that no one ever told me about or talked about. a place where babies die. a land of invisible mamas. like a hidden land, the underworld, and only people who have been there can really understand what it’s like. that is why i am so grateful for my community out here in babylost blogland.

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