The Whitworths

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Blog Moved

I have decided to move my blog to a different host website. If you’d like the new address please email me and let me know!

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Crossroads

I've been saying to myself that I was going to publish a post for over a month. I usually don't have trouble finding words to express my feelings but my mind has been occupied with so many other things. Instead of the words being on the tip of my tongue, or I guess in this instance, fingertips, the words were just floating around in my head bumping into one another. First off I want to thank all of you who reached out on August 5th and sent us your pictures of your joy. It was so amazing to see how our son has touched each of your lives. It also made me especially happy to read messages and receive phone calls that expressed how much you all were thinking of HIM. Because that's what August 5th was all about....him and his impact on those that our closest to us. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.

As I stare down the two roads that I'm standing in the middle of I experience both fear and hope. I am overcome with sadness and happiness. I have both anger and forgiveness in my heart. And I am amazed that I can experience all of these emotions simultaneously. While I'd like to give into the more positive emotions I am truly being pulled down both roads. Some days I experience only the positive and some days only the negative. Most days I deal with both. I'm okay with that because that's what life is all about right? A complex mixture of anything and everything. 

As I stare down one road I am reminded of last year. I dreaded fall with every ounce of my being. I remember walking into a store in late August and seeing Halloween decorations and feeling like my heart was sinking. Any mention of the month of November made me cringe and celebrating Thanksgiving was more like making it through the day. December was difficult not just because of the holidays but it seemed like everywhere I turned I was being trampled on. I got bombarded with announcements of others joys and at the same time was painfully reminded of my pain and loss. As the new year approached I was reminded of the relationships with friends and family that will forever be changed, many for the positive, some for the negative, and I was sad that it was no longer the year in which my 1st child was born.

This year I see fall in a new light. As I take a walk with Nolah and see the trees slowly changing and the leaves that have already fallen I'm reminded of the pain that I went through last year. At the same time I have hope that this fall will be different and so far,it is. When grocery shopping the site of Christmas decorations doesn't disgust me (well it kinda does I mean it's still September!) I am trying to look forward to all of the celebrations that come on the tail end of the year all while praying that this hope and happiness that I have right now doesn't get yanked away from me again. 

You think about a crossroad as being some pivotal point where you have to make a big decision that will potentially change your life forever. However, the crossroads that I'm faced with is not one in which I have any control over. I have to just sit back and let time play things out and deal with whatever is thrown my way in the best way that I know how. And that's really fucking hard. This morning I saw the first snake I've seen since my post about snakes. I'd like to think that the snake is leading me down a road of healing.

[thewhitworthsnc]

Retired Teacher

We’ve joked since June that I was not resigning but retiring. In fact, we vowed that when someone asked Walt or myself what I did for a living we would tell them that I’m a “retired teacher.” Friends have offered to throw me a retirement part (for which I requested be held at Defy Gravity). 

I can’t wait to watch people’s faces when we give them that response.

When trying to figure out how to tell the students who signed up for my classes next year that I wasn’t coming back we thought about writing out a detailed post (to be placed on the class website) explaining that I was taking a sabbatical to conduct research on how napping impacted gray brain matter. This was especially funny since I have been teaching for 7 years however we knew that many of the students would in fact believe it.

Ultimately though I just resigned. End of story.

Today is an odd day for me. We’re still in August and I’m finding the last bit of the “summer days” are leaving me feeling weird.

Today is the first day back to work for teachers. Instead of spending my day rearranging my classroom, looking at my class rosters, and joking around with my co-workers I spent my day doing whatever I wanted.

Why? Because I am no longer a teacher. Actually, that’s not true. I’ll always be a teacher, always but I am no longer an active teacher teaching at a public high school in Durham, NC.

To be honest, this day doesn’t feel as weird as it should.

Why? Probably because I missed the start of the school year last year too. In fact, I missed the first 2 months of the fall semester and somehow in October I got myself together and gained back control over my life.

I’ve spent the better half of this month trying not to focus on what I was doing at this time last year and I’ve been pretty damn successful at that. As I walked Nolah around the cross country trail this morning I remembered hardly being able to walk down my street last year. I remember trying so hard to make it to the end of our neighborhood and breaking down while my mom held me up. I wanted to be at school. I wanted to work. I wanted to be entering into my last few months of teaching and the third trimester but everything was taken so quickly and there I was, hurting. Bad.

I am again, so thankful that it is not August 2014. The rawness and realness of the physical and emotional pain I experienced so early on is very difficult for me to think about.

It’s bittersweet not going back. I already miss it. I already miss my students and the rush I got standing in front of them. I’m not sure what next week will bring when they head back to school too.  Many students know now that I’m not returning but I’m sure at some point next week some of them will stop by to say hi and I won’t be there.

We always knew my career at Northern High School would be short lived. Seven years in the same school, hell seven years as a teacher, is unheard of these days. Then why does it feel like it all happened so quickly?

I texted two of my co-workers saying how fucked up it is that I’m not there today. In their true spirit they told me to repeat to myself “there is no place like home, there is no place like home.”

Right now, that is very true.

[thewhitworthsnc]

Why we need to talk

A dear friend sent this to me on Wednesday and it was such a wonderful article to read on the birthday of our son. 

Losing him has changed me as all of you know but having him and losing him has also helped me be able to talk about tragedy in a way that I might not have been able to before. I have never felt like I have been a person to ignore someone who is going through hardships. I’ve always thought of myself as a sympathetic person. I never said things like “I’ll just give you some space” or been one to pretend like nothing happened. However, I might have been one of those people who said the wrong thing. Which, take it from me, is often better to say the wrong thing than to not say anything at all. *I am fully aware that not all women who have lost pregnancies/children would agree with this*  I know I probably told people in the past that “everything’s going to work out” or “things will get better” but the last 12 months have taught me that there are better things to say than the blanket statements our society likes to frequently use. And that just talking is what it is important. 

I am so thankful for this mother’s article. I am so thankful that it was published and I am so thankful that our needs are being voiced. Just because I lost my baby doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk about him. I have so many wonderful memories of my time with him and talking about it helps heal and keep his memory alive. Just because he isn’t here doesn’t mean he never existed. Just because I’ve lost pregnancies and had miscarriages doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk about the moment I found out I was pregnant or how my husband reacted. (Long story short: with which our 1st pregnancy entailed Walt taking the test for me while I was at the gym). Just because I’ve been through hardships doesn’t mean I don’t have positive memories. 

I’ll take the good with the bad and I’ll choose to focus on the good.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/parenting/wp/2015/08/03/why-we-should-talk-about-our-children-who-have-passed/

You can find her blog here: http://www.scribblesandcrumbs.com/

[thewhitworthsnc]

I am a little apprehensive as the calendar rolls over to August. How can I not be when just one year ago I was in Kauai celebrating so many things including the upcoming arrival of our son in November. Instead August brought me physical pain that lasted several weeks. August brought me emotional pain that I still wear, not on my sleeve anymore, but in my bones.

As we approach our son's birthday I choose not to relive the terrifying and traumatic moments that occurred on August 5th. Instead I choose to focus on the beauty of the time I got to spend with him. I choose to focus on the lessons he has taught me and how he has changed my perception of everything. I choose to be grateful for the people he has brought into my life and for those he showed me truly care. I choose to honor him.

I choose joy. But I also experience grief. But those two things are not separate anymore like the speaker in the TED talk explained. Instead they are intertwined in a way that only I can understand.

We are asking all of you to choose joy this month, especially on his birthday, August 5th. 

For anyone who would like to participate we would love to see a picture of something that brings you joy, that makes you smile, that warms your heart. That is the way we feel when we think of our son.

You can email the picture to me ([email protected]) or text it to me. Perhaps one day the pictures will be turned into a collage or framed and displayed in our home. 

Our son is the best thing that has happened to us. He is our joy.

This picture brings me a lot of joy.

[thewhitworthsnc]

Article

This was sent to me by the nurse who runs the support group I’ve been attending since September. It’s amazing to see the NY Times print all of these stories and start the conversation about infant death. While our son was not stillborn so many of the things these women write about are exactly how I feel. It’s amazing to me that feelings that come with miscarriages, stillbirths, preterm labor are all the same. I encourage you to read these stories, all of these stories. I encourage you to be open with people who you know who have gone through loss. I encourage you to be one of the ones who continues the conversation instead of shying away from it. I encourage you to give women who have lost a child at any stage the love and support they need and deserve.

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/health/stillbirth-reader-stories.html?action=click&pgtype=Homepage&version=Moth-Visible&module=inside-nyt-region®ion=inside-nyt-region&WT.nav=inside-nyt-region&_r=1

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Snakes

I see snakes.

Not like hallucinations​ of snakes​ but real snakes. 

I see them everywhere. 

In fact, I've seen so many that I have started an album on my phone called "Snakes I See."

It really started in the fall. Before I went back to work I would often walk (yes this is when I was physically able to do that again) in the morning and I started seeing snakes where I walked. It was predominately on one​ ​very wooded trail I go to but I still found it odd that I was seeing so man​y of them.​

I looked up some information about snakes and found that the fall is actually their breeding season so it wasn't uncommon for me to be seeing them but I ​was still taken aback by just how many snakes I was seeing. I despise snakes and I always have so I found my encounters with them to be a bit disturbing. I worried that Nolah would get bit by one of them and I'd lose yet another thing that was part of my being. 

It got to the point where I was seeing so many that I decided to look a little further into "snake sightings." Like​ I wanted to know​ the philosophical meaning behind seeing snakes....I wanted to make sense of a lo​t​ of shit at that point in time and this was​ no exception​. I remember several years ago, one of my favorite students who is from China, explain​ed to me​ that in his culture if you dream about snakes that means you are pregnant​. I thought about that so many times and it pissed me off. It was like the world was laughing at me and taunting me by throwing snakes in front of my face right after I lost my baby, the baby that was still supposed to be in my tummy.

In an attempt to help explain I went back to google and would type things like "meaning of seeing snakes" or "if you see a lot of snakes what does that mean?" ​Needless to say, I did find a lot of info and​ almost none of it was reassuring. I mean if you think about what the snake stands for it's usually something evil, right?

So far I have over 10 pictures of snakes in my album​ and I just started the album in May​. Yep, I k​ept​ seeing them ​even after their breeding season was over. I have ​found ​my snake sightings to be so interesting that I've spoken about it to many people. Some people think it's cool and have even dubbed me "the snake whisperer." Others have my original thought on the matter...."ekkk, that's scary." ​And while at one time I would have agreed with them​ I have found that my fear of snakes has actually diminished because of ​the sightings. Now when I see a snake it isn't "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" it's "oh let me hurry and get to it so I can take a picture ​for​ my album." 

Through exposure I have made myself less scared of the thing that I once feared the most.

Kinda cool, right?

Except I still find it disturbing. I don't want to see snakes, especially not poisonous ones.​ 

Or maybe I do want to continue seeing them......​

I was telling this exact story to a woman I met recently. She is deathly afraid of snakes as I once was. In fact, she said her fear is to the point where she passes out if she sees one. But in telling her my story and my concern about the fact that the snake represents so much evil I became enlightened and hopeful about what these sightings could mean.​

​The woman was a Greek mythology or western civ major in college and ​started to tell me the story of​ the Rod of Asclepius. I'm very familiar with the symbol as Walt is in the medical field. In fact, for some reason, I have a very vivid memory of ​the rod being carried at ​his medical school graduation​.​ ​But if you think about it, it is odd that the rod, with a snake around it, is a symbol of medicine, of people who are healers and have the intelligence and training to help those in need.

​Well here is the reason why: disclaimer I am not 100% I have the story 100%

Apparently in Greek mythology the staff is associated with Asclepius who was a physician. His "clinics" popped up all over Greece and people who were in need would visit the clinics so that they could be healed. Apparently one of the healing practices was for these people to sleep in these temples with snakes as the snakes were thought to have healing powers. If you were lucky enough to have a snake actually crawl on you while sleeping you were said to be healed. 

When she told me this story I internally got really excited. Perhaps my snake sightings are a way of helping me heal. Not only from my fear of snakes but from the pain and hurt I have suffered in the past 11 months. 

I now see a snake not as a thing to be feared but as a sign that healing is happening.

[thewhitworthsnc]

Beyond Closure

http://youtu.be/w0rCfXSdYPE

[thewhitworthsnc]

To the Mom I Didn’t Mind Making Uncomfortable at the Playground

I found this article somewhere online and it really resonated with me. This woman’s son was diagnosed with anencephaly at the end of the 1st trimester. To read more about his story go here: http://purposefulgift.com/en/donation-story/

I truly was enjoying our conversation at the playground. It was full of all the fluff and chit-chat I’ve come to appreciate as the mom of a young child. I find that these random mom meetings are a nice way to pass the time.

Then it happened.

Unfortunately, I knew it probably would. You asked a common and seemingly innocent question: “Is she your oldest?” I knew it would have been simpler if I’d glossed over the question, and I could have answered several different ways, but I made the choice a long time ago to always answer this question honestly.

“No, she’s not my oldest. My oldest passed away shortly after birth.”

The sweet look on your face faded. A look of horror, bewilderment and sorrow blended together before you were able to recompose yourself. I know that wasn’t the answer you expected, and I hate that in a split second our nice happy conversation suddenly shifted into an awkward moment. Silence lingered for a few seconds before you managed to mumble, “I’m so very sorry,” then glanced away.

As I turn to watch my daughter, ignoring the hovering silence, I wonder what you are thinking.

Although I’ll probably never know, I’m guessing you wished you hadn’t asked that question. I know I made you uncomfortable, and while part of me wants to apologize, the other part of me is unapologetic. I’m sure that sounds mean, but I don’t mind making you uncomfortable because my son, however brief his life, was important. He matters. He was cherished and dearly loved. His life had value, meaning and made an impact on this world. His life may have been limited due to his condition, but he still had life. That life is worth talking about, even if it makes others feel uncomfortable.

Although I knew it would make you uncomfortable, I didn’t really care.

You see, I don’t just answer this way for myself and for my son, but because I know that many moms bear the burden of pregnancy and infant loss silently, too afraid to make others uncomfortable. This won’t end until we start breaking the silence. Moms won’t share until they know they can do so in a way that will be comfortably accepted by others.

I don’t mind making you uncomfortable because, by mentioning my son, it also gives you the opportunity to share about the babies you might have lost, which has happened several times after sharing openly about my son. If you can overcome the sense of feeling uncomfortable, you will realize that through my openness and honesty I have created a safe place for you to share with me as well.

So next time we meet at the park and you see me sitting with my daughter playing in the sand, I hope you feel comfortable enough to talk to me again. I hope you are willing to ask me more questions, maybe even questions about my son. I’d love to share him with you. And if by chance you’re a loss momma, maybe you will feel comfortable enough to tell me about your children — all your children — even the ones you’ve lost.

I will forever have mad respect for people who share their stories and for people who ask others to share. Those who would rather not make someone feel uncomfortable are themselves uncomfortable due to our societal ways of handling death. We are changing that.

[thewhitworthsnc]

Strong Women

Just this morning I was thinking about all the wonderful women I have met in the past 10 months. All of the women who have been through early and late losses. All of the women who know that the ache, pain, frustration, and sadness never leave you. The women that know  you want to and need to talk openly. The women that aren't afraid to ask the tough questions or to share their own stories inside and outside of the baby loss community. These women are so much a part of my journey I can't really imagine life without their support.

I feel very protective of these women. I want to shield them from future pain and loss and help them work through their current frustrations and struggles. I would do anything for these women and I know they would do anything for me.

We are as thick as thieves.

I stumbled upon a blog of a woman going through infertility. She writes the following about the women she has met on her journey.

"Yet even with my torn, bruised, scarred and snapped in two broken wings, I still manage to fly. And despite the hurt, I am still able to carry hope. Carry love. Carry forgiveness—for myself and others. I can still somehow carry joy. Carry peace. Carry grace. Carry my story. And carry my dreams….

But how? How can I with these wings? It’s all because I have women in my life; women who have their own broken wings from their own journeys to motherhood. And it’s because of their brokenness, they also know how and where I hurt. They know if you bend my wing one way, I will plummet to the ground. Or if you touch it this way, I might never get out of my nest. And so they help me…

They help me carry my shame. My guilt. My grief. My embarrassment. My loneliness. My heartache. My desperation. They help carry my burdens that weigh me down…And they do it so that I don’t have to flap my wings as hard to stay above my circumstances. Or remain stuck inside my nest, unable to fly."

It's good to know that these women are found all throughout this country.

I can once again thank my son for bringing these women into my life. They are some of the strongest, caring, empathetic, intelligent, and real people I've ever met in my life. These women have been through the worst yet they continue to conquer life, something that most people cannot do even without loss. These women have shown me the type of people I need  to have in my life and have taught me to be the type of person I want to be.

I am forever thankful for these women.

[thewhitworthsnc]

I often have this thought that strikes me when I'm talking to someone or when I over hear a conversation​. 

The thought: "You couldn't handle this."

The thought: "They couldn't do what I do."

They couldn't dodge the triggers, repress the painful reminders, deal with the gut wrenching hurt,and cope with the gaping hole.They couldn't do what I do while dealing with the above. Hell, I don't know how I do it.

Acting as a school recruiter for upcoming 9th graders and putting on your happy face while at the same time having to see a pregnant co-worker and a woman who was one month behind my due date stroll in with her baby. This is just one example of what I do.

Playing a game of Apples to Apples with my students turns into dealing with the pain on a different level. I mean who in the hell gets the card "having a baby" TWO times in TWO different games. That's either a sign that I'm pregnant or the world's way of allowing me to be in control for once. I mean I guess I should be thankful that I could hold that card in my hand, never to be played, so that another person doesn't lay it down and send me over the edge. Or perhaps it's the world's wicked and evil sense of humor.

I continue to be proud of the fact that I do handle so much at once. I continue to be proud that there hasn't been a single day that I haven't wanted to get out of bed. There hasn't been a single day that I haven't wanted to do something that makes me feel like me.

I have a lot of fight in me. I will always be a fighter.

My kids always giggle at the end of the Spring semester when we play kickball or ultimate frisbee or tennis. The competitive side of me isn't really shown in the classroom and it tends to come out when we play sports.

Student: "Mrs. Whitworth you look like your ready to kick our asses."

Me: "Watch your mouth. And. I am.”

I see everything I do as a challenge that will be conquered. I've sort of always been like that but my strength now comes from my son. He gives me the strength to get out of bed, to handle the rollercoaster of emotions, and to deal with life. He's shown me who is important in my life, he's shown me who is not important, he is my light and my life. I continue to fight for him. He shows me that I CAN handle this. I have and I will continue to.

[thewhitworthsnc]

“Do Work Son”

Every day is work. Some days are more work than others and I never really know what days will require lots of work. Sometimes things that I have built up in my mind as being work end up being walks in the park and sometimes work gets thrown in my face and knock​s​ me out of the park.

The definition of work includes mental and physical labor. The work I do these days is more mentally taxing than physically taxing but with the both types of work the end result is the same. Exhaustion. 

In the beginning, sitting up was lots of work. Then standing, walking, and doing things for myself was a lot of work. In the beginning, not crying all day was a lot of work. Not questioning why and how my baby was taken from me was a lot of work.

As time passed and I got​ better physically the work continued but was different.​ I was still exhausted but I found joy in​ setting little goals for myself. Walking was no longer work but running ​was​. Then running was no longer work but swimming was. And then I realized the things that I used to enjoy became work. Before giving birth to our son I used to love being around people but afterwards ​being with more than one friend at a time was lots of work.​ ​I remember going out to dinner in October with a group of old friends and feeling like I was a foreigner. It was a lot of work to even hold a conversation with another human being.​ It sometimes still feels that way. I've gotten really bad at "small talk" mostly because it just feels like too much work to me. It's too exhausting. ​

​In the fall, ​things that you think would be work were​ not​ perceived as being work to me​.​ One would think that going back to teaching would have been lots of work but for me it wa​s one of those goals, a ​​​​​challenge. So I got up and jus​t did it, I went to work. ​​​​​​ I went in there and I did it and I loved it and it was the only thing that made me feel "normal."

But now, I sit here, contemplating how in the hell I did it. I mean, I'm amazed that I had the strength to just go back to work. How did I have the strength to go back and handle people? I have no idea how I did it because right now it feels like lots of work. 

Despite all the pain I have persevered through everything. I've continued to get up and do and I'm really fucking proud of myself for that. However, I've come to realize that I have been severely overwhelmed with life in the past 10 months and it's all catching up to me. I don't care about the things that once were important and by things I mean teaching. I'm not a good teacher anymore. I have nothing to offer my students. I have a hard time fulfilling what I need from myself how can I do that for 90 students every single day? Maybe it's that I am jaded, angry, frustrated, and sad. Maybe it's that my ultimate goal these days does not involved educating students, something I once found to be the definition of my being. 

​I have a senior home room this year and have to be pretty involved with graduation. I wear my robes, sit with them on the floor of Cameron Indoor and I'm realizing that this graduation will be more symbolic than I once thought. ​

Work was never work for me until now but I will continue to persevere just like I do in everything that I do. I push through....every run, every task, every lap, every conversation, every social event, every. single. day. Push through. Persevere. 

[thewhitworthsnc]

On early miscarriages....

http://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2015/05/08/404913568/people-have-misconceptions-about-miscarriage-and-that-hurts?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_content=20150508

[thewhitworthsnc]

Thank you to all of you! Especially to you who used those beautiful words. Happy Mother’s Day! I will cherish you forever and will continue to keep you close to my heart!

[thewhitworthsnc]

Happy Mother’s Day to me

I remember going on a walk on Easter Day and seeing happy families everywhere. I bawled on the entire hour long walk. I had a lot of things going on....my last D&C was three days prior, I was returning back to work, and I was experiencing that raw emotional grief that was my daily life in the fall.

And then I realized Mother’s Day was the following month. I thought about how sad Mother’s Day can be for not only women who have lost their babies but also for those who are going through infertility or people who no longer have their mothers.  I was fixated on the thought of whether or not I would be celebrated. Would Walt recognize my motherhood? Would my family? Would friends? I mean in others’ eyes I might not be a mom in the traditional sense but in my own heart I know I am a mother first.

So in an effort to take control I decided to have a Mother’s Day celebration in honor of all the mommas I have met through the infant loss support group. I needed a way to honor their motherhood and their babies and so I thought why not have a lovely gathering at my home.

And that’s what I did.

Planning the Mother’s Day event allowed me to be able to say the words “Mother’s Day” without cringing. I no longer dreaded the holiday because I had a way to recognize others. I didn’t want them to wonder who would recognize their motherhood like I was doing. I wanted that to be my job and I wanted to make them feel special.

I filled the house with fresh cut flowers and had my sister make a print with the “Be as a bird” quote by Victor Hugo to give the girls. The day was simply lovely and I really hope that I was able to allow them to feel the love on this very difficult holiday.

I didn’t have to wonder if those closest to me (not in the infant loss community) recognized me as a mother because you all showed me that you do!

Thank you for making me feel the love.

It started with receiving the sweetest card from a former student. At the end of the card she said “You are one of the best moms I know.” Thank you so very much my love. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

I woke up yesterday and Walt presented me with a Mother’s Day card with the most heartfelt words. Thank you my love for being the father of my son.

The phone calls, texts, and emails rolled in. Thank you dad, Kelly, mom, Callie, Sandy, Claudia..... thank you so very much!

Then a text....from my friend Liz..... “there is something for you on your front porch.” Another thoughtful card and KRISPY KREME DONUTS!!! Way to make this momma really happy!

Despite the huge outpouring of support I had a few moments during the day when I broke down. I cried for my son, my baby who is supposed to be here with me isn’t. It was a difficult day but I got through it.

I decided to go to work today although I didn’t want to and to my surprise at the end of my day I got a visit from the fabulous four! The four students who I have become closest to. The four students who I feel so very protective of. The four students who have been there for me more so in the last year than most adults. Here they are, back from their first year of college and what do they do on a Monday afternoon? Spend three hours with someone who used to give them grades! Thank you SO much for the cards not just on Mother’s Day but throughout the year as well. Thank you for the endless support, hugs, and the beautiful tulips! Bianca, Ella, Kevin, and Lexa you guys mean the world to me and I love you to death.

And then to add icing on to the already sweet cake I came home to yet another card recognizing my motherhood AND a four leaf clover! You are a doll!

I a mother to a child who is not physically here with me. My version of motherhood is more difficult than most. And while I would trade in this difficulty in a heartbeat to have my son with me I am so thankful that I birthed him as he made me a mother.

[thewhitworthsnc]

Let me catch you up to speed.

Once given the okay to start trying again the following has happened:

- positive pregnancy test in February that lasted all of about 24 hours

- positive pregnancy test in March that lasted 7 weeks

February: A biochemical pregnancy.....what the hell is that? Apparently it’s a VERY early miscarriage....the sperm and the egg met for a quick cup of coffee in the uterus but one of them got paged and had to run. Yeah, literally, pregnant for 24 hours. When I saw the blood I knew it was bad news bears.

What followed was a series of tests:

- CONFIRMED: NO Jennifer you do not have a  genetic issue that is to blame. Obviously, I had a perfect genetically normal baby boy.

- CONFIRMED: NO Jennifer you do not have some blood clotting issue or anti-nuclear antibodies that is preventing you from carrying a child to term.

Little celebrations.

So we try again. And for the FOURTH fucking time in a row we get pregnant. NO bleeding.

Small victories.

Given the fact I had an early miscarriage in January of 2014 I know that the absence of blood does not mean that things are smooth sailing. 

Confirmation of pregnancy appointment. This baby has a due date right around our little boy’s....but it’s bumped up to the end of October due to the scheduled C-section that will happen with every subsequent pregnancy.

7 week ultrasound. It HAS to go our way right? I mean how much “bad luck” can one couple have? 

Them: “Things look good but the embryo is measuring behind and we can’t see a heartbeat. It’s early though.”

Me in my mind: “Don’t fucking sugar coat it. I know what this means. I’ve been here, done this. 

Me to them: “We saw and HEARD my son’s heartbeat this early. I understand this is going to be a miscarriage.”

Them: “Come back next week and we’ll see if there is progress.”

Me in my mind: “How about you grow a pair of balls and tell me this in a non-viable pregnancy RIGHT now and let’s get this thing out of me so we can move forward.”

Me to them: “So you want me to wait a week? Really?”

Them: “We’ve seen this before and it’s worked out. This is in God’s hands. We don’t want to you stop trying.”

Yeah, mixed messages right?

Me to them: “I know how this is going to work out.”

CONFIRMED: The next week....no growth, no heartbeat.

WTF is going on?!?!? 

D&C the next day. 

My OB doctor is calm, reassuring, and comforting while giving us the facts and statistics. I have tested negative for all of the things that cause early miscarriages. It really is just BAD. LUCK.

CONFIRMED: Through genetic testing of the embryo. “Female embryo testing positive for T15.” 

Doctor: “Jennifer, this is a random cell division issue. It is not a risk factor moving forward. You have all the reason to be hopeful.”

Me in my head: “I’m so glad that we have an explanation for THIS loss. My body did the right thing. It stopped allowing this little girl to grow because she would not have survived. She had a lethal chromosomal issue that happens at random.

But WHY did it have to happen to me again?

CONFIRMED: Saline infused ultrasound shows I have NO uterine abnormalities that would prevent me from carrying a child to term. YAY!

I’ve learned that a negative test is something to be thankful for. If you don’t have an issue then you don’t have a problem.

Here’s to hoping we start to move to the middle of the bell curve very soon.

Thank you my beautiful baby boy for proving to me that these early losses are in fact bad luck. If I had not given birth to you I would be doubting my ability to do this on my own.

I love you but you knew that.

[thewhitworthsnc]

What’s Going On?

Twenty-five years and my life is still trying to get up that great big hill of hope, for a destination. I realized quickly as I knew I should, that this world was made up of this brotherhood of man for whatever that means. And so I cry sometimes when I´m lying in my bed just to get it all out what´s in my head and I, I am feeling a little peculiar. And so I wake every morning and I step outside and i take a deep breath and i get real high and I- Scream from the top of my lungs "what`s going on" Hey, what´s going on? And I try, oh, my God, do I try, I try all the time in this institution, and I pray, oh, my God, do I pray, I pray ev´ry single day, for a revolution And so I cry sometimes when I´m lying in my bed just to get it all out what´s in my head and I, I am feeling a little peculiar And so I wake every morning and I step outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs what´s going on?