panic

The panic has set in, well and truly, over the past weekend.

My nuchal screening scan is tomorrow at 2pm. It dawned on me over the weekend that there was a chance that we would go into this scan thinking we are 12 weeks pregnant, just looking for signs of another Trisomy, but we may leave brokenhearted and empty once again. Just because I feel like crap does not mean I am still growing a little bun.

With each hour that passes I find myself doubting things more and more.


My stomach seems smaller today. It is, isn't it.

I don't feel sick today yet. Not at all. That's bad, isn't it.

I went 4 hours without eating. That means my previously ravenous appetite is gone. I'm not pregnant any more.

Does it seem a little over the top to you? Most people are just counting down the hours until they get another peek at their baby. I wish so badly I could go back to being one of those people.

We both started to worry a little on Saturday, and got the doppler out. No surprise when we could not find a heartbeat. I know (logically) that it was too early. But hearing that sound would have eased so many fears.

But just because I have historically only miscarried at 7 weeks, I can list off (too) many friends who have had losses and missed miscarriages at 12, 13, 16 weeks and so on and so on. I should be excited. But I find myself terrified. I have almost convinced myself that we are going to get bad news tomorrow.

Friday was Lou's birthday. Saturday night at the family dinner, we announced our news. We were scared and wanted to wait but knew they had all guessed anyway. It all seems awfully premature now, and I think I am catching Lou's superstition. I feel like we have gone and jinxed it now.

I think I am slowly losing my mind.

I thought this one would be less panic inducing than my last pregnancy, given we are not 3 months out from the death of our child as we were last time.

How is it worse this time around?

Easter Therapy

Yesterday I went shopping, and ended up having an impromptu therapy session.

I was going to a department store to look for long sleeves for Manny as the weather is starting to get colder. I wandered into the Easter section to grab a couple of chocolates for Rocket. I figured that like usual I would just grab a chocolate egg and a small toy. Easter hasn't been fun for me for awhile now. As I am the one in the house who arranges all the parties, holidays, gifts etc, if I'm not into it, it doesn't happen.

Last year I tried. I did the Easter hunt thing, which took no effort really, but I really used to enjoy all the Easter palaver.

But then yesterday I stood there in the Easter section and looked around. And found something cute. A ceramic egg decorating kit for small kids. "My Rocket loves craft" I thought, so I picked it up. Then I spotted the coloured rabbit ears. Since he was wee, we've always called Manny 'Bunny' (yes he is the baby of a thousand names). "How cute would Bunny look in these ears?" I thought, so I picked them up.

Before I knew it I had filled a basket. Lovely baskets ready for the boys to decorate, and some pretty chocolate lollipops, little wooden baby chicks to paint, easter paper chains to make, soft bendable bunny ears to wear, little fluffy chicks in nests.

And then I was off to another craft store.

To look for Easter decorations.

I think this year might be different.

I think tomorrow I might even bake some hot cross buns.

some days I forget...and then I remember.

Most days, you would never know that my child died.
Most people, probably forget that my child died.

I don't walk around crying. I don't talk about him much. I do bring him up in conversation, but not all the time. I don't even carry my grief around with me like a security blanket anymore. It is tucked into a white box under my bed with some of my momentos of him. Every now and then I pull it out, I pull him out, I pull my grief out, and I cry. I cry, and cry and remember him. Remember how I ached for him, how I wailed for him.

But most days, most days I am not a bereaved mother. I am, but you wouldn't know it.

Some days however - like tonight - the realisation of what happened weighs me down like a thousand pound weight on my chest. And I remember. My son died. My baby died. My beautiful 3 pound 7 ounce boy died, and then he was born, and then he was buried. And we were left here on earth to muddle through the rest of our lives without him.

On Sunday, one week from today, he will turn three.

There will be no birthday cake, no balloons. No party with friends and family. No trucks to unwrap, no new books as gifts. There will be no games, no laughter.

There will be tears, and memories of love and loss. There will be pain. And more tears.

this is why we fight.

On Monday I reported to you that I had made a complaint to the authorities regarding what was published in that "family" magazine. I commented that we are fighting like hell to keep our gay youth ALIVE and that kind of bullshit is responsible for letting our youth down, making them feel less than another person. Less worthy of love, less worthy of a family.

And the very next day a beautiful young friend of mine, a friend for almost ten years, a friend who was finally transitioning from female to the male he truly always has been, took his own life.

A truly bright and wonderful soul has been taken from us and ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. You are NOT LESS THAN ANOTHER PERSON. You are worthy of love, you are worthy of passion, you are worthy of a family and a good life.

If you are reading this, join the fight against discrimination against and hatred of the GLBTIQ community. Because I want my dear G to be the last to lose this fight. I do not want another single death recorded. You can stand up and be counted.

This is why it is so important to join the fight for equal rights. Granting things like gay marriage IS important. Not necessarily because all gays want to marry (I am sure G never would have bought into a traditional convention like that!) but because it says "We are equal. We are just as deserving of a loving commitment as you are". And the louder we say that, the more voices that join us, the more able we are to drown out those who seek to put us down.

The louder we are, the more those vulnerable members of our community can hear us, can be heard, can live strong.


G - may you find the peace in death that you never found in life. Rest in peace dear heart.

Wave of Light

My candles lit for the Wave of Light across the world for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. One for my miscarried babies, one for my Starbaby, and a multi petalled one to represent all the very loved and wanted babies of friends, my baby's special playmates in the stars.

We remember them every day, and love them every minute.

The time is now.

have been trying to write an entry for days but can't seem to.
last week a friend of ours died of a heart attack, aged only 45.
he left behind two children, friends of my son, aged only 7 and 11.

Things like that really make you re-evaluate your life and look at what is really important. Nobody ever looks back on their life and says "gee I wish I spent more time at the office". Money means nothing when you are dead.

So the only words I have today are these:

If there is something you have wanted to do, but have been putting it off for "the right time", that time is now. Take a risk, jump in headfirst. Because you never know what tomorrow holds.

Suzy Home-renovator

I've been reading back through past blogs (both this one and old blogs) trying to recapture how I felt and what I used to write about (what? not everything is babyloss/IF related? you're KIDDING me?? What else would I write about?) I am not quite there yet but am going to try to post daily about something other than IVF because hey, boring.


Good news this week in our corner of the world is the final sale of one of our reno properties :) BIG yay for that. It is a big load off my mind and while we didn't get the best best best price for it, we did get $40k more than the bank valuation, and cleared enough to pay out all our debts. So YAY for that! Now if we can get reno house #2 sold (has to hit the market first) then we will really be laughing all the way to the bank and be able to jump right into renovating #3 where we are currently living...

I have to say I am very proud of us. If you had seen this place before we go to it...it was ugly. And it smelt funky. And had holes in doors etc. Just a mess. Now look at it!!









It really makes me realise that we can do this. We are so capable, and I think we are getting really close to the point where we can throw in the towel at our annoyingly mundane jobs and take on renovations as a full time job :)


And finally, because I just. can't. not. talk. IVF....good news/bad news on that front...good news is we got nearly $6k back from our last cycle which means we can definitely go ahead again! Bad news is that I'm STILL not at zero which means waiting...and waiting...and blood tests...and more waiting...to see when we can go ahead again. The longer we wait, the bigger the age gap will be and that is bugging the crap out of me because that is the main reason we decided to do this - to have kids close together. Already we are 6 months past where we wanted to be...and every week that goes by I mourn the idea of having children who are really close together. Hercules would have been born at the perfect time.

Lady Luck

*sigh* It seems like every time I come on here to type a happy entry...something else happens! I've thought of so many entries to write, but all at inconvenient times...and then when I was halfway though a derby entry, we got the news that a colleagaue has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and suddenly anything I had to write in here didn't seem quite as important.

At the same time, my close friend's marriage is breaking up, leaving her a single mother to a 1 year old with no possibility of an income to support them both (she has a disability) and it all just seems like "who am I to bemoan my life?"

I have it pretty good. I have two beautiful earthbabies and a precious starbaby, an amazing partner who makes my life better every single day she is in it, and a lovely house to live in. I have a job and can provide for my babies, and we have family members who love and support us and help us step up in life.

I'm pretty fucking lucky, all things considered.

So now I will thank all the universe for my astounding good luck, and focus on my two friends, going through far more significant upheaval than I, and give them all my love and support.

On Being "Socially Infertile"

As it's ICLW again (see my sidebar) it seems an appropriate day to post this entry on being "socially infertile".

Isn't that just a charming, quaint way of describing the fact that I cannot get myself duffed without intervention. I am not, in the strictest sense of the word, infertile, as I am capable of conceiving…provided we can find some of those pesky little swimmers, that is.

In my hometown, I am denied access to fertility treatments because I am not, in the strictest sense, infertile. I am “socially infertile” which is just another way of saying “a dirty lesbian who does not deserve to have children as they deserve a mother AND a father”. Oh and don’t try to conceive if you are a single lady either. That’s a big no-no as you are depriving your child of a male influence as clearly the only role model a child can ever have is it’s biological father (I think we can all thank the gods above that this is a load of hooey).

So according to them I am not infertile.

But.

When we decide to have children, we face thousands and thousands of dollars of intervention (IVF) which is something it takes the hetero couples of the world only consider after thoroughly exhausting all other options.

When we decide to have children, we cannot just “get to it” and “hope it will happen”. Without intervention, all the sex in the world will not end with me being with child.

When we decide to have children, it means involving a third (and fourth and fifth and sixth etc) person in something that we wish could just be between the two of us.

When we decide to have children, it can mean months of heartbreak and the fear that if we run out of sperm before we conceive, our children will not be related.

When we decide to have children, it means going away, to another state, and submitting ourselves to be judged, to answer questions and go through counselling, have police checks and background checks, and discuss the most intimate areas of our lives with complete strangers.

Not to even mention the paralysing fear that goes along with being a deadbabymama attempting what can seem like the impossible...bringing home a real. live. baby.

But I still don’t feel as though I fit in with the “true” infertiles of the world (for whom I have great affection) because I am capable of getting myself duffed…and have done so on a few occasions (and a few times I've even brought them home alive).

So where does that leave me, and my current heartbreak over wanting another child and not knowing if it will ever happen?

Heart Shaped Box

A year ago today, my love asked me the question I was waiting to hear.

It wasn't exactly a surprise, we bought the rings together in late 2007, as I am somewhat picky and she didnt want to get the wrong thing! But she demanded to choose the time when she actually 'popped' that question.

So I waited, and waited and waited some more.

Made a few comments (possibly revolving around the fact we would likely be in nursing homes before we were even engaged...) along the way, waiting, waiting, waiting...

Months, and months, and months came and went. More comments about how I wanted her to propose already! For goodness sake! We already have the rings!

And then one night in tears she tells me of the plans she had to propose at the birth of our little man. But then he died before he was born and all plans we ever had flew out the window and we had to learn how to live without him...without all the things we had planned.

I did not comment on it again.

And then, on Valentines Day 2008 she woke me up with a heart shaped box she made in her breaks at work...filled with our favourite chocolates...and my ring.

It was worth the wait. She is worth the wait.

Letting Go

It's interesting, a large part of the reason I started this new blog was to create a space for my whole family, for myself, for my own evolution. Like my dearest Aunt Becky I was making 2010 the Suzy-Year where I would come into my own and finally achieve some of the things I have wanted to do for years but put off.

I wanted to move forwards. I spent so much time in my grief-fog that I wanted to come out of it and move on. Part of that was letting go of my babyloss blog.

And yet...

In creating my new list of blogs to follow - my fellow DBM's blogs make up 90% of it.

Every second post I want to compose is about him.

Am I not ready to let go yet?
Or has his death started to define me, the way I swore it never would?
Or is it all just because we are edging closer, and closer, and closer towards his 2nd birthday, and the 2nd anniversary of his death?

My, how my world has changed

It's funny how quickly you adjust, and how you gain a different perspective after the death of a child. See to me, it has lost all shock value and is quite commonplace. I dont even think about what it would sound like to a stranger.

I made the mistake of mentioning it when I went in to try and get a new phone. See my contract is one month from expiry which means i am eligible for a free phone upgrade. They told me that it wouldnt expire till 17 march but I knew better because march 2 years ago I didnt leave the house, let alone go in and sign a contract on a phone. I was in hibernation after my Tiny Man's death. The sales guy started with "ohh no. See you signed up in March."
me "no, I signed up in February"
him "well it says here 17 March"
me "I can guarantee you it was February"
him "no, March"
me (wanting the argument over) "No, it was February because my son died in February and we had our new phones in the hospital when he died."
him *blinks* "ohhh maaaan. Why did you tell me that? Oh maaan thats heavy. Oh no why did you say that?"

I felt pretty bad for him to start, forgetting how awful it must sound to someone not accustomed to babydeath, but he seemed almost disgusted that I had told him. Like it was something people shouldn't mention in polite society. Well fuck that. I don't believe there is such a thing as polite society. So I only felt bad for a second. I had forgotten that it was such a bad thing, it has become just one of those things that happened to me now.

My oh my, how my world has changed.