Dinner with Friends

Tonight we are going to dinner some friends. I haven’t seen them since 3 days before everything went to hell, when she lent me her maternity clothes. I had just really popped (I was huge for 20 weeks). I am having a freak out! I just called Cheek’s and asked him if we could bail. He won’t let me. I can’t believe how anxious I am about this. Is it normal to feel like I am having an anxiety attack. Cause that is how I am feeling. I look like crap, I feel like crap, my mood is crap. I expect a crappy night. These are very good and close friends. What is wrong with me?

There's crying in baseball when you're with me!

Last night the husband and I went to The Met game. Cheeks is a fanatical sports fan, with baseball being his favorite. Looking around, there were lots of small children with their Father’s, clutching baseball mitts and wearing oversized hats on their heads. My heart broke in a million pieces for Cheeks. I could easily imagine him with our children, teaching them, getting excited with them and sharing his love for the sport. Realizing that our two girls were never going to experience their father in this moment killed me. I felt very sad for him.

As we were leaving the game, I asked Cheeks about it.

Me: Does seeing these kids with their dad’s make you sad?
Him: Nope.
Me: OK, what does make you sad (referring to our daughters here)?
Him: Carlos Beltran pulling a muscle and missing the next few games

OK, now many people have told me, that men take this stuff differently. With all that we went through, I’ve never talked to Cheeks about his feeling. He went straight into taking care of me mode, so his sadness and all of that got pushed aside. So here I am trying to give him a chance to share and I get nothing. I realize I sprung this on him, since I was “sad for him” it was probably all about me, but still...

Anyway we get into a “discussion” where he tells me he doesn’t really get sad about the twins. He was in the moment, but he moved on. Every once in awhile when crap doesn’t’ go right, he gets angry, but never gets sad. Here I was thinking that Cheeks and I were going through the same pain, me being a woman expressing things differently, him keeping it bottled up for my protection etc… But in reality my husband has truly moved on. I felt very alone in that moment. And I know people will say again, men are just different, but honestly, I just don’t think he is in any pain over this. Bitter maybe, worried about me, pissed off sometimes, but in general he has mourned and its over. I am not angry with him or anything like that, but I thought we were in this together. I now feel that it’s just me. I do realize in my “mind” that I will eventually get to the same place as him, I will have moved on (I so hate that phrase), but I just can’t see this happening for a very long time. And here my husband only 9 weeks later and Carlos Beltran is the only thing that makes him sad. Is he just a stronger person?

Oh, Hello Again

I think my period has finally showed up. Its weird. Not that I haven't bled at all in the lat 6 1/2 months, but it will feel weird going to the dr. and not saying LMP was 12/31.

My Best Friend

My best friend is closer to me then family. My husband likes to call her his second wife, but in reality she is more like my second husband. She has done more for me, that is ever required from friendship. A few years back she moved to San Diego and there was never a doubt in our minds that our friendship would never changed. And it hadn’t. She has been with me from the first miscarriage, IVF, and losing the twins. When I knew something was going wrong with the twins, she was the first person I called from the hospital. Though I asked her not to come, she was on a plane. I had lost the first baby that night, but she arrived the next day. She helped me shower, she was my advocate with the nurse (Cheeks and I tend to not like to bother people), she changed me, combed out my hair, called friends etc… I had gotten an infection around 11pm the night before giving birth to the second baby; my husband left the hospital in the middle of the night to pick her up from my house. I always wanted her to be in the room with me while I was giving birth, I never thought she would have to witness this. I was bleeding a lot; I mean clumps of blood clots. She cleaned up the mess. I threw up for houses and she held the ‘puke cup” for me.

In SD she met and fell for a navy officer. He is wonderful and I am so happy for her (even though now she won’t be coming home). The same time I found out I was pregnant, she found out that he was going on deployment to the Middle East for 6 months. She was having a very hard time with it. She isn’t exactly military wife material. But…we had the excitement of the babies (one of which would be her godchild) and I would be there for her. She had me to complain to, cry to, etc… Him leaving was definitely one of the hardest things she has had to go through, she was filled with fear and loneliness. So I had to step up and be there for her like she has been for me for so many years.

Here is the problem. I can’t do it. I screen her calls. I know she is mostly calling for me; she is still being this wonderful friend. I feel as if I am abandoning her (and unlike myself she doesn’t have a strong support system). She is the second most important person in the world to me and all I want to do is let her know how much I care, how grateful for all she had done. But the whole thing feels so draining to me. And to be clear, she is NOT putting anything on me, she isn’t asking me for anything, she isn’t leaning on me, she just wants to shoot the shit. Knowing her as I do, she has no expectations either. This is all me. I feel guilty, I feel as if I can never repay her, and mostly I feel as if she can see right through me. I guess that is the honest thing, I am so not myself and she knows it (my husband can’t even come close to her insight). It is so friggen unbelievable how this one crappy event has completely altered everything about myself and the relationships I value. UGH!

Squirt's Therapy 101

I came on here today and was so happy to see I had 2 new comments. It amazes me how the kindness of other makes me so easily burst into tears and that is a good thing. So I thank you.

My best friend and brother-in-law love therapy. Changed their life! I pretty much think, that it does help a lot of people. Before I got married, I started going. I was losing it a bit and I had this fear of not knowing how to work on my marriage and it would be all too late. So I went for about a year. It did help change my behavior and my marriage definitely benefited from it. But for some reason, I just can’t bring myself to go back. I don’t think I need it. And I guess that should be enough, but it seems silly to me, that 5 years ago, I just wanted to someone to whine to that had to listen, because she was getting paid. Now the thought of talking about this to anyone makes me ill.

So I’ve come up with my own form of therapy. It might be working….

1. Blogs. I lurk everywhere. I still have a habit of reading the blogs of pregnant women with twins or people who got pregnant the same time I did. These blogs, not so good for my therapy, yet every day I still take a peak. My favorite blogs are those who are able to start again and/or who have gotten pregnant again. They make me think; maybe one day I can do this again.

2. TV. I love TV. Like I want to marry it! I cannot wait to run home and vedge infront of the couch until bedtime. IThe summer time is the worst time to go through any type of pain, because the TV isn’t too good. So I’ve been watching reruns of my old favorite shows (Cheeks thinks this is the stupidest thing ever). :Big Love" and “So you think you can dance” has saved me many a nights.

3. The Summer Blockbuster: I haven’t missed a one. Much like TV, I love the movies. I actually get excited, a feeling I thought impossible to feel again. I mean the SIMPSON movie is coming out on Friday and I can’t wait.

4. Harry Potter. That is how I got through this weekend

5. FOOD! Especially ice cream. Back in the day, when I was feeling miserable, I couldn’t eat. Now I feel miserable and its all I an do.

6. Blogging. It’s a start. I hope it works, I hope this outlet will be away to get through it and move on.

Cold Comfort

I never really had to deal with much tragedy in my life. The scariest thing that has ever happened to me personally was my mom getting breast cancer, which she was able to beat and which I was confident she would. With the loss of the twins, I strangely held myself together. I wasn’t hysterical, I didn’t really cry, I mean I did, but usually alone or with Cheeks. I didn’t lose the second baby until 4 days later and I felt if I were positive and calm everything would be all right. So I stayed calm and for the most part my support system kept me going. Not until I was home for a few days, did I finally freak the hell out. But I did it alone.

I find myself mostly in the position of comforting other people in their grief over my grief. My MIL is a perfect example of this. A wonderful, loving person, but her grief was too much for me to take. The minute she walked into the hospital, I could see it on her face. And she tried not to cry, she tried to hold it together, but I couldn’t’ take the look on her face. Then there is my mom, who again, I am so lucky to have. She was a bit better; she could at least distract me by playing cards or watching soaps. But whenever a doc would come in, her face would give away her fear. She was so afraid. So I found myself comforting them. Telling them it would be OK. Telling them Cheeks and I will survive… Now they didn’t ask me to do this, I just did and its not because I am some comforting person, I think I usually suck at comfort. I think I just didn’t want anyone to feel bad for me, it made me uncomfortable. So I in turn, let them off the hook.

In the hospital, 8 hours after I lost baby #2, a priest came to visit me. He wanted to give me communion and congratulate me on giving birth (the hospital put a code on the door to let people know their was a loss). I uncomfortably had to tell him, the unfortunate turn of events. Not sure if he was in shock or embarrassed or stupid, but he just stared blankly at me and went silent. A very slow and painful minute passed, when I finally had to tell him, “its all right”, “we will be ok”, “don’t worry about us”. This is the mantra I say to those who I give comfort to for my loss. I hope they believe me, because I don’t believe a word of it.

Isolation

I’ve been keeping to myself quite a bit lately. In fact, I haven’t really seen any of my friends since the ordeal has happened. The friends have been great. We get calls and emails, cards, and gifts. I could honestly say, I’ve never felt more cared for and supported. They are very patient and understanding and when I don’t email back or call, they give me no slack. But I wonder how much longer I can go on avoiding them. And that is what I am doing. I just don’t want to see them and it’s not even because of the 101 kids that accompany our circle for friends. I actually want to see them (I adore every single one of them to bits). But it’s that first initial meeting up with people that make me think I am going to have an anxiety attack. I am being completely unfair to our friends, because in truth, the awkwardness will be over in a second. Its just me, I can’t seem to bite the bullet or suck it up as my husband likes to say. And there is my husband, I feel as if I am keeping him from getting back into the swing of things. Keeping him from his friends. Sometimes I think I am perfectly fine just Cheeks and I, don’t want or need anyone else. Then sometimes I feel I am missing out, drifting apart, the kiddies won’t even remember me. When is too long to stay away?

The Story Part II

Didn't realize the email was so long and got cut off... here is the rest.


Mentally I am all over the place. But I think we've both have been OK so far. Being alone is the worst part of it. Distractions help enormously (like finding out things about my mother that have shocked me so much, I can't stop thinking about it, we can thank Rina for pulling this info out). I have this overwhelming sense of humiliation and failure that makes it hard for me to think about-facing people who knew I was pregnant. There was nothing wrong with these babies. My body failed me this time and that is really hard to take. I don’t' know if I could ever go through this again or if health wise I even have the choice. So that thought consumes me most of the time.

I know you all want to do something. I understand that feeling. There are times I might be quiet, or I might reach out. It will come and go. Right now I am most worried about my mental health and making sure I don't bring Dennis down with me. I would hate to do that to him.
Having gone thought this I did find out what an amazing husband I have. Not that I ever doubted this. He stayed with me every night. He nursed me, I mean he has seen things I am not sure one would want to share with anyone. He has cleaned me up and taken me to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He even started cleaning up the L&D room, which made about 3 of the nurse’s fall in love with him. He tells the most inappropriate jokes at the most appropriate times. He has made me feel very loved and protected. And I hold onto that. Whether we will ever have kids of our own is something we both have to deal with, but I now feel really secure in the fact that I think we can get thought this together.

Empty

The emptiness I am writing about it not about the twins. Empty can’t come close to what I feel. The emptiness I feel has to do with my relationship with God or lack there of… After the first miscarriage and finding out about the infertility, I still felt my relationship with God was intact. I had all of this crazy faith in him. At the hospital, even after I lost the first baby, I prayed and prayed and hoped and was positive. . My brother bought me a medal of the Virgin Mary and I obsessively clutched it for the 4 days between the losses. I begged and pleaded with God, Mary, my saintly grandmother. I’ve never been like that, I never pleaded and promised like I did that week. I lost one child and was begging that I could keep the second that this wouldn’t be all in vane. But once I got home, not pregnant anymore, with leaking painful boobs and utter despair, I did the one thing I thought I would never do. I cursed God. I said every fowl word I could think of. And like a crazy person who has watched too many stupid movies, I prayed to Satan, I would sell my soul for my babies to come back. Silly, huh? We had a simple service at my MIL’s church, where a nun and a priest said nice things, where our families cried, where they said some prayer about how God wants all the little children blah, blah, blah. I gave God the finger that day and on that day I stopped believing. It is too hard for me to think that God turned his back on me, that my grandmother didn’t listen, that I couldn’t get a miracle. If for some reason my faith is being tested, then I have failed miserably. So yes, I am empty. I’ve not only lost my dream, my girls, my hope, I lost a precious relationship, something that was important and special to me and it makes me feel empty

The Story

Below is an email I wrote to some friends letting them know the details of what happened. I don't want to lose this, as it details the worst day of my life (not being dramatic, def. worst day of my life). So here it goes.


Last Sunday morning I urinated out my mucus plug. I was pretty sure it was the plug; we had an appointment the next morning at 7am, so we just waited. I am not sure how bright of an idea that was, but being it was Sunday; I stupidly didn't know who to call or what to do. I had also read it could take weeks for labor once you lose it, so I thought I had some time for them to fix this. Little did I know I was also having contractions for about 2 weeks, which I thought was the baby kicking my bladder. I am a dummy.

The dr. sent me to St. Peters' right away. There they checked the heartbeats and I saw the babies on the ultrasound. They were fine. But twin A was so low and during the exam they could see the membranes coming out. They assumed I had some sort of infection due to having ICSI during my IVF treatment. St. Peters' is one of the leading high-risk pregnancy hospitals in NJ, my doc is pretty famous, and they've seen a lot of these ICSI cases. If this was infection, I was done for immediately. They did an amino on the first twin and fortunate no infection. So they rushed me to the OR were they were going to be a cerclage (which is stitches and this balloon thing into my cervix to close it) It was risky since the membrane was so low and he could risk breaking it. But we didn't even get that far, the water broke right there before we started anything. It was over for twin A.

I gave birth (yes, I pushed) to Marie Josephine on May 21st around 7:45pm. She weighted 8oz and was 8 1/2 inches long. I was still pretty numb from the spinal they had given me for the operation, so there wasn't a lot of pain. But the pushing was exhausting and sweaty. My OB did an amazing job of controlling the situation where he only delivered the one twin, cut the umbilical cord and tied it into a knot, so that the second baby wouldn't come out. The cord problem I had actually helped, because it wasn’t attached to the placenta, but to the membrane between each twin.

The next morning I was doing pretty well. They checked again for infection in baby B. The cervix had collapsed which was a good thing and my contractions were getting better. So they decided to send me back to the OR for the cerclage I still needed it, since my cervix was no longer closed. The doc saw that my cervix was still long and think, but just open. So really had no labor, just a cervix that decided to dilate. It is unpredictable, especially when they way they check for preterm labor is on you cervix length which mine was still long. Why it suddenly opened is still a mystery.

The operation went well and for two days I was feeling pretty good. The only thing they needed to watch for was infection. Having had my cervix opened for so long and giving birth, and an operation, infection was the #1 reason why these cases fail.

All day Thurs. I was down. I just felt like something was going to go wrong. Thurs night my contractions were getting a lot worse and by 10pm I had a 101 fever. It was over. In order to save my life, I would have to be induced. First they needed to remove the stitches. I got an epidural, which having a temp and low blood pressure, I passed out for a second or two. Then I puked and shook (I mean shook like crazy) for about two hours. Before they even induced me, my water had broken and I started to bleed pretty heavy. Epi wasn't working so well, so they gave me some other drug, which was pretty good. I felt nothing. My fever skyrocketed to 102 and then they had to induce. Around 9am Gillian Grace was born. She was 9 1/2 inched long, not sure on the weight.
Dennis and I at first didn’t' want to see them. Name them or anything like that. But the social worker was really good. She gave us time and did everything in steps. She gave us pictures first, and though it was hard to see (they are very red), they still look like babies. Then we decided to see them and we held them. Marie looked like me, Gillian like Dennis (FYI this is the baby who like to show us its butt on the ultrasound). Kinda freaky at that state to say that, but you can tell. It’s strange. Anyway we decided we are going to cremate them. We still don't know what we are going to do with the ashes. But we will spread them somewhere. I can't handle a burial.

Back

yeh that's me... back again. I realize I can only write when I am in pain. And for awhile, I was happy and just didn't have time to write my thoughts down.

Well happiness for me doesn't seem to last. It's a joke. I just re-read all of my old posts and I sound like a joke. I can't even remember that person.

The IVF worked. Pregnant with twins. Made it to 20 weeks. Was crib shopping one day, in labor the next. Seems disgustingly unfair.

8 weeks have passed I suprisingly get up every day, I go to work, I act normal. I try to live a life. I do it for my husband, my mom and dad, my best friend and even my boss. I haven't figured out how live for myself again. I use to be good at that. I get out of bed everyday as a sense of responsibity to my loved ones.

I finally reached out and searched for blogs on loss. Maybe it will help. I am already floored by the incredialbe strength and insight of these women and feel utterly foolish for thinking I am the only one.