Lately

Lately, I have really been struggling. I've been struggling with how Avery's death has changed my outlook and my mindsets. When your baby dies, you entire attitude and opinions on life in general become so narrow and specific. The life and sacredness of babies and children become so vital. But then you find that not many people feel this way. Not even all mothers of living children, who know what it's like to love a baby.

My heart aches for Avery everyday. Most people have forgotten her. My heart longs for Jude to make it here safely. Most people just assume he'll be fine. And ya know what? He very well may be... and I pray to God he stays well. But I just feel like very few take the time to think about how much it takes each day, emotionally and physically, to get him here. What happened to Avery is etched permanently in my very being. Jude's life in my womb does not erase her, nor the pain of losing her. Jude grows and dances and lives exactly where his big sister died. Being pregnant with him reminds me of how it felt to be pregnant with Avery. That's hard. Hearing Jude's heartbeat reminds me all over again that Avery's used to beat and it no longer does.

I am 18 weeks pregnant with Jude today. In just seven quick weeks, I'll reach the week where we lost Avery. Already, Jude is doing much better than Avery was at this point. Of course at the time we couldn't realize that since we had nothing to compare her to. But it's all still scary. All I know of pregnancy and childbirth is devastation. I have never held my living child in my arms. I have never heard my child cry. I only know silence and death. So sometimes it's very easy to worry about Jude. To worry that he'll meet Avery way before he should. I pray all the time that he gets to be here first. Be here longer than we do. Parents are not supposed to bury their children.

So lately I have been feeling angry. Yes, I am overjoyed over Jude. He is what fills my days with happiness. He thrills me to no end. I am in love with my son. But I am angry over what has happened to his sister. My little girl. I think my anger is caused by how people treat my situation. It seems that no one wants to allow me to feel the way I do. Even those who have not walked in my shoes find it necessary to tell me how not to feel. They can't just accept that I have been through HELL losing my baby, even if they don't understand. I am the only one in my entire very large family who has a tombstone with their child's name on it. I don't think anyone has the right to tell me anything about how to feel or to judge me for my feelings.

My other problem that makes my life unpleasant is how I feel toward other people. I unintentionally have this radar for what people say about pregnancy or children. I have become so sensitive toward people's views on the very thing that is so sacred to me. I cannot stand when people complain about pregnancy and act like it's a huge inconvenience or their cross to bear. They are so blessed to even be pregnant, and how about suddenly not being pregnant anymore because your baby died? I wish people knew how to be more grateful. There are people out there who are so ignorant and so naive. Praying for something as petty as a specific gender and making a big deal out of it, while I sit here and beg God to allow my child just to make it here alive. I can't help but feel insulted. While my husband stabs me in the stomach every single night with my blood thinning injection, other pregnant women are complaining that they're uncomfortable. Darn. If only discomfort could be my biggest problem.

It has also been insensitively brought to my attention that these women have an excuse to be ungrateful for their pregnancies and babies. They're practically expected to be ignorant because they haven't been through what I have. I'm sorry... I don't buy that. Even people that KNOW me and know exactly what happened to my baby go on and take things for granted. How could what happened to my little girl have NO effect on anyone?! And really? Only women who know what it's like to lose a baby are completely grateful for their children? I don't want to believe that. I'm sure there are many mothers out there who haven't experienced loss that would be very insulted to hear that. So why the excuse for such ungratefulness? Why make me feel like even more of a freak of nature or even more alienated by empowering the ignorance of others? If I share my feelings, I don't need someone making me feel invalidated or brushing off how I feel by completely defending the other party. Even if you don't agree with me, know that I have been through a tremendous devastation and you couldn't possibly begin to use logic against me or downplay my feelings. This loss has left with me a bottomless pit in my heart that even Jude can't fill. If you tell me that even people who know me, even people I'm related to, can act so cavalier toward something so precious and delicate, then you are telling me that my daughter had absolutely no effect on anyone... that her life and her death has left no impact... that she made no mark on this world whatsoever other than a stone in the cemetery... that she is easily forgotten and that no one cares at all. Thanks. That's exactly what a mother dreams of for her child's legacy.

Another reason why I can't buy the whole "they don't get it because it hasn't happened to them" excuse is because even before Avery died, I promise you, I swear to you that I did not take her for granted. I did not complain about her. I had no idea I could lose her and I still treasured her existence to no end. I loved her deeply and completely before she was even here. Before I knew I had to be without her. So it wasn't my experience with her death that gave me this eye-opening appreciation for the life of my child. I always had it. So why doesn't everyone else? And even if you can't be affected by daughter's death, to where it changes your outlook on life, is it too much to ask for people to watch what they say in front of me? To make sure they're not insensitive to what I have been through? Or am I the only one who is aware of other people's feelings and makes sure not to say things that could offend? I hope not. Feel the way you want, but just don't say it in front of me.

My last struggle is feeling like people don't consider me a mother, especially as Mothers Day unforunately draws near. I am sure that I have hashed this out before but I guess no one read it! I don't like hearing, now that I'm pregnant again, that I'm "going to be such a great mom." That implies that right now, I am not a mom. Everyone needs to understand that Avery counts as my child. When my brother almost drowned at 2 years old in 1992, would my mother have no longer been considered his mother if he hadn't survived? So because she got to mother him for two short years, she'd forever be his mother? Avery spent her whole life inside of me, yes. But I took care of her. I held my breath walking by smokers. I made sure not to drink more caffeine than I was allowed. I did my very best to ensure healthy eating while I was pregnant. And I LOVED her. I excitedly awaited her arrival and the joy she'd bring into our home. I loved her even before she was conceived. I wrote her letters. Sometimes I still do. I had contractions and labor and gave birth to her. And when she was born, though she was already gone, I held her.  I watched her deteriorate over the course of our time together because I wanted to spend time with my daughter. I wiped the fluid leaking from her little nose and blotted the oozing cracks in her lifeless skin. I cuddled her, kissed her, savored her, memorized her, took photos of her. I handled her gently as if it mattered to keep her comfortable. I cried over her, watched the nurse wheel her out of our room for the last time. I left empty-handed, and soon, my milk came in, just like any mother's does, for a baby that wasn't here. And I watched her get buried a few days later. And even now, over a year later, I still visit her resting place and decorate it for her. I still grief for her, I still miss her, I still love her. How the hell does that not make me a mother?!

How do people not know by now all of this that I went through and still go through? Why do I feel like no one cares or remembers? All I have is alienation. Just because Avery didn't enter this world alive, it doesn't make her count any less. Especially if you believe in the sanctity of life... and if you believe that life begins at conception. I just don't understand. I hate that this is my life. I hate feeling like Avery doesn't matter. I hate feeling so alone amongst the people I know. I wish more people would just try to understand. Or at least pretend to.