I see you

So the thing is, the little spirit that was haunting me for so many many years is with us now, I believe that.  I look at her big blue eyes and she looks back at me, and I truly believe that we both are just like, "gee, it's you.  I'm so glad to see that it's you."


But for the mamas out there who are still reading my words, who are still in the thick of their grief and their hell - because it is indeed hell - I see you.  I wear my eight stacking rings religiously these days, not because I am worried I will forget.... I will never forget.  But they are comforting in a way, a tactile reminder of that hell.  When I'm stressed and worried I fiddle with them - in staff meetings and other venues - and tell myself that I can breathe and put one foot in front of the other.  I can plaster a smile on my face and continue on.


Today the smile is real, because she is alive.  She made it to me. She is healthy and she is like pure light.  But the pain is merely dulled.  So many years lost.  So many babies. 


I see you out there. I am crying with you too.  I am holding you in the light with so much love and so much hope for you.


xo

Haunting

I recently commented on a BBC birth board, offering virtual hugs and hope to a woman who just miscarried.  She was blaming herself and I offered the 1 in 4 statistic. And yes, I noted that I refused to blame myself for my eight losses.


She replied and asked how I kept going.


I kept going because I truly believed that the spirit of the baby I was trying to have was haunting me.


I always worry that framing my perseverance this way makes me out to be a loon, but sometimes vocabulary fails us, and honestly, it's the most accurate way I can get my point across.


There's a movie out on Netflix now called "Private Life" and by all reports it's a horrifyingly accurate portrayal of a couple in their forties trying to have a baby, ultimately exploring donor eggs and adoption.  The reviews of it on various support boards have all been positive so....


I downloaded it last night and wanted to check out a few minutes of it.  The opening scene has Paul Giamatti stabbing Katherine Hahn in the ass with what is supposed to be a progesterone needle.  Everything about the staging, her position on the bed, his apology for hitting a nerve, the bad of frozen peas, every fucking thing about the first four minutes of this movie told me I need to get in the proper headspace to watch it.  It was TOO real.  Not that I watch much these days, because S is only sleeping in 3 hours stretches at night right now.


I'll try to watch it this weekend and post a review, but keep in mind my inlaws are staying over this weekend, so watching a movie from start to finish is sort of aspirational.  I gave Viking the heads up that he might want to see it with me, he loves Paul Giamatti.  But I am also worried about being a crying mess from it.

Future gymnast

Check out this picture of 8 month old Samantha and bear witness to the reason I needed an emergency C-Section.  According to Viking, this is exactly how she was positioned when I was laboring.