Holidays

My husband and I stuck close to home for Elizabeth's birthday and Christmas and will do the same for New Years.  He refers to us as "hermits" these days and there has been a fair bit of crying and thinking of the "should have beens" but there has also been a fair bit of laughing and appreciating each other and the good things in life.  I don't think we could have handled other people on those days and am glad that (almost) everyone let us off the hook from commitments this year.  I'm also glad we stayed home because I feel closest to Elizabeth right here in our house.  Here are our stockings on Christmas morning.  Our first time around as Santa and we decided to leave Roo a beautiful pink rose:

We also bought Elizabeth a Christmas ornament on her birthday - probably this will become a tradition.  It's this whimsical little bunny hiding under a sparkly toadstool.  Not at all what we set out to buy, but it's exactly right (her other nickname is Bunny):

And - still pregnant.  Just past 13 weeks now.   I am starting to have more nausea-free mornings, which we try to take advantage of - go for a walk with the dog, make pancakes, do a household project or errand.  Afternoons are still brutal and I'm still on a 6:30pm bedtime and hubby is still sleeping on the couch, but maybe in another month or two some of that will let up.   My sensitivity to food smells has gotten worse (no cooking in the house after noon is the new guideline - thank goodness for the grill outside).  I figured the super-smell-nausea phase was coming.  When I was pregnant with Elizabeth, there was an infamous episode at 16 weeks when my husband went out to dinner and ate garlic mashed potatoes.  He came home after I was asleep and snuck into the bedroom.  I sat bolt upright and started throwing up almost instantly just from the garlic smell he was giving off.  Ah, memories.

My husband, without clearly stating his intentions, seems to be avoiding other people's children/babies.  He doesn't go with me to visit our support group friends whose rainbow baby (the preemie boy I posted about in November) is at home and doing well.  I wonder how long this will last.  Perhaps the rest of the pregnancy?  Or just for the holiday season?

Elizabeth's first birthday

Happy Birthday, little Roo.  We love you and we miss you so much every single day.

The dog totally thinks he won

So, my husband and I can't sleep in the same bed right now because of the hyperemesis.  He's graciously been sleeping on the couch for over a month now. 

The only one who's thrilled about this is the dog. 

When I creep out to the kitchen or living room in the early morning, past the couch where my husband is snoring away curled up with the dog, puppy's little furry head lifts up, gazes at me, then at my husband, then back at me, then settles down with a self-satisfied sigh.  He totally thinks that there was a contest and my husband chose sleeping with him over me.  No more dog bed in the corner of the bedroom - now he's got the man of the house all to himself! 

I'll give puppy his few months of satisfaction.  Poor guy doesn't know what's coming later on.

A little break - and a bacon story

Just when I thought I was going to be lost in a pit of despair and self-pity, I had two blessed nausea-free hours this morning.  Out of bed - ate food that did not repulse me or immediately attempt to reappear - walked outside with the puppy and admired the dew in the grass - breathed in and out without protests from my digestive system.  It was AMAZING.  Realized I will regularly feel this way again someday.  And maybe just maybe good things will come from this.

So now I'm thinking about other times I have had "breaks" that kept me going over the past year.  We have received a million kindnesses from family, friends, and strangers, but, oddly enough, the first one that jumped into my head was -

BACON.  One morning while Elizabeth was in her second NICU and we were living at Ronald McDonald House, facing another miserable day of specialists poking and prodding her and piling up the bad news while we made impossible decisions and waited for permission to hold her, instead of the usual bowl of cereal on our way out the door, we encountered some older volunteers in the RMH kitchen, cooking us all BACON (and eggs, toast, pancakes, etc.).  Apparently that was exactly what this exhausted, sleep-deprived, milk-producing, learning-that-her-only-child-was-dying, suffering-c-section-complications, grief-stricken new mother needed.  I ate a whole plate full and faced the NICU with slightly more energy that morning.  I tried to convey to the volunteers exactly how much the bacon meant to me, but I think they thought I was kind of crazy.  Kind, kind strangers.
(my apologies to any vegetarians who are completely grossed out right now)
(also, you can tell I'm still having a pretty good day, since I am able to type a story about food)

Thanks for the words of encouragement after I posted yesterday - it makes me feel so much less alone.  I would also like to apologize to those who are frustratedly TTC and think I'm being a whiny baby.  That's totally understandable and I'm sorry to cause you pain.

Reality right now

One week until Elizabeth's first birthday.  Hitting a new peak (oh, dare I hope it's the last?) of this pregnancy's illnesses.  Nightmares of how I could have saved her, how I should have known she was so tangled up inside of me.  Daydreams of going to the hospital and having them knock me out for the next two months.  Or at least give me IV nutrition so I can be spared the need to eat.

Thankful for the time we had with Elizabeth and thankful to be pregnant again - trying so hard to cling to the things I am thankful for as the darkness tries to suck me under again.

Things will get better again.  Or I'll die.  Either one sounds like an improvement on how I feel this morning.  Just please don't let this baby die, too.

Super Husband/Husband Grief

My husband has been:

sleeping on the couch since the bed shaking/food smells he brings to bed are too much for my nausea
kicking people out of our house before my 6:30pm bedtime
fetching the random foods that my stomach decides it can tolerate (quiche - now!  raw oatmeal - now!)
earning money to pay the bills
cleaning the house

And yet I give him such a hard time and about any little thing he does "wrong."  Feeling constantly ill makes me so unreasonable.  I am working to be more appreciative.  I know he is one in a million.

He has been crying more lately about Elizabeth.  Cute little girls about 1 year old set him off.  He says he's afraid that I'll get less sad over time and he'll get more sad.  He read somewhere that, when asked to draw pictures of their deceased child years after losing a baby, bereaved mothers usually draw babies and bereaved fathers usually draw kids aged the appropriate number of years.  I think this is really interesting.  Sometimes it seems he did make more long-term plans for her in his head, while I was more focused on how she would be as a little baby.  I certainly thought about her as a toddler, elementary-schooler, teenager, etc., but not as concretely as my husband did.  Does anyone else have experience with this?

Keeping Anxiety in Check

As it becomes clear to people in our daily lives (work/school friends and neighbors) that I have been sick a lot and don't appear in public after 6 pm anymore, we kind of have to tell some of them that I'm pregnant.  I barely let them say congratulations before I start in with -

Yes, we're happy, BUT -
We're not going public for a few more weeks.
We're not out of danger for a miscarriage yet.
Even when we are out of danger for a miscarriage, by definition that means we've just moved on to danger of stillbirth or preterm labor or another devastating umbilical cord accident or...
This is NOT a do-over.  We will always be missing our firtstborn child.
Please don't tell me this baby will be fine.  You don't know that.
The most important thing this month is still Elizabeth's first birthday.

After hearing all of this, two friends have said some version of:
"Don't you think it would be better for the baby if you tried to worry less?"

These people mean well and were genuinely there for us when Elizabeth died, and I can't dismiss them as clueless or heartless.  Yes, I'm sure less anxiety would be good for the baby.  Actually, I think I'm doing pretty well staying sane, thank you very much, CONSIDERING THAT THIS IS MY THIRD TIME BEING 9 WEEKS PREGNANT, AND WE HAVE NO LIVING CHILDREN TO SHOW FOR IT.  They just don't see it that way, though.

This is so hard - balancing sharing good news with trying to make sure people have some clue about what this is like for us.  Advice?