It's Not Easy Being Green

It's hard to pinpoint what my thought process has been in getting pregnant again, but I can easily tell you I wasn't expecting it to be this hard.  I knew it would be tough.   I knew it would bring forth stress and conflicting emotions, but I really wasn't prepared for this.   I don't think any mother is.  I remember thinking, "If I can just get pregnant again, then I will feel better.  I will feel less empty.   I will feel like I am moving forward."  And while some of that is happening, it's not happening to the extent I thought it would.  And so many other things are going on that make this roller coaster ride even more stomach dropping.  I can't put all of them in one post, so I'll just write about things one at a time.

The first thing that caught me off guard was my emotional reaction to my physical changes. I'm not one of those lucky women who float through their pregnancies with a happy sigh and a joyous glow.   My first pregnancy was physically difficult.  My second is not different.  Nausea, heartburn,swelling, bloating, fatigue, soreness - you name it.   I had all of these things with Kenley - and I have them again with Bean.  I knew they were coming.   But, there's a part of me that feels that it is just so unfair that I have to go through it all again.   I am angry that I have to put my body through the pains of pregnancy a second time without being able to reap the benefits of the first.   While every pitch over the toilet bowl reminds me that Bean is alive and growing, it also irritates me that I have to be there.  And it makes me think of the last time, when it was Kenley who was causing my stomach to flip flop its contents.  Every time I wake up in the middle of the night with my esophagus on fire, I reach for the Tums with a sigh of frustration, not just because I'm uncomfortable, but because I'm uncomfortable again.   And when I'm too tired to do anything after work but sit and breathe, I wish it was because my baby kept me up all night crying and not because she's dead and I'm pregnant with her sister.  Every ache, every pain, every discomfort of my body is a reminder of what I have and what I lost.  

And then, there is the comment that always comes after I express these feelings.  "It will be worth it."   Oh really?   I'd love to take a look in the crystal ball you have.  Please, show me the guaranteed future where all of this is worth it.  Where my baby is in my arms, healthy and alive. Then there's the "At least you were able to get pregnant again."  These comments frustrate me for many reasons.   The main reason being comments like this make me feel like I have no right to complain about being pregnant - and that's just not fair.   Every woman has the right to complain about being pregnant.  Being pregnant is hard!   Our bodies go through so much.  I should still be able to talk about how crummy I feel without someone reminding me to remember how lucky I am to have a second chance.  I know how lucky I am.  I know so many women don't get pregnant as easily as I have.   My many support groups are full of these women, whose hearts break every month over and over and over again.   I get it.  No one needs to tell me of the hardships of pregnancy or infertility.  I have cried for them and with them.  We cry for each other.  I have been in this community for several months.  I know I could have it so much worse.   But, that doesn't mean I still shouldn't be able to complain.  In fact, I need to complain.   I need to have someone tell me they understand - or at least that they understand my right to be upset.  Let me hang on to this one bit of normalcy in a life that is anything but.

There's this mindset among those who aren't in the baby loss community that a Rainbow pregnancy is - well - full of rainbows.  This attitude that once that egg has been fertilized again, it's just smooth sailing until a screaming baby pops out.  And that any slight bump along the way should be taken with a smile because - hey, you're pregnant again!  Yay!    Yes, there are moments when I am truly happy and excited - when I'm not nauseous, when I have some energy, when my stomach isn't a boiling pit of acid.  And then there are moments when I feel like crap and I wish I had a baby already.   By the time Bean gets here, I will have been a human oven for almost two years, with a sixth month break in between babies.  And I will still only have ONE baby.  (The uncertainty screaming around in my head regarding that statement is definitely for another post)   I have earned my stripes.  I have earned the right to vocalize whether or not I have a stomach ache, or how tired I am, or how I just want my body to be done with this already.   

I have five more months - twenty more weeks - to go.  Twenty more weeks until my body is mine again.   Twenty more weeks before Bean is in my arms.   It seems like an eternity.  

My Stretched Out Heart

This year has been the worst year of my life.   I know I don't really need to explain why.   When you lose your child, especially so close to birth, you lose your future as well.   You lose every moment you should have had.  Every step they should have taken.  Every milestone they should have reached.  You lose a lifetime of memories you should have been able to make.  All that potential seems so pointlessly wasted.   You think to yourself, "why bother living now?" When everything seems like it's nothing more than a shadow, it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

My future with Kenley was stolen.   That is a fact - an unchangeable fact.  I will always wonder what could have been.   I will always watch her grow in my mind, comparing her to other children (and eventually teenagers and adults) I see.   I will always wonder if her hair would have stayed black or have lightened over time like mine did.   I will always wonder if she would have inherited her father's ability to dance - or my ability to fall down with grace.   Would she have a developed goofy sense of humor?  Would she have loved to climb trees, watch movies, and play house?   Who would she have been?

That not knowing is an ache that never goes away.  Nothing will ever change it.  Nothing will ever make it better.   It will always be a rock in my heart, rolling around in the vast cavern of what will never be.   

But, Kenley left me with more than uncertainty and fear.   She left me with more than sorrow and desperation and pain.   She left me with love.   When something breaks and then is pieced back together, it's never quite the same again.  It's looser.  Wider.  Gaping. Stretched out.   As I have spent these last few months sewing my heart back into its shape, I have noticed it's much bigger than before.   There's more room inside.  Like an old patchwork satchel, saggy and worn.   And while that means more room for fear and anxiety to creep in, there's also more room for joy.  More room for hope.   More room for love.   I have broken but I am not broken.

I have nestled my baby girl inside my heart with tender care.  She will always live within me.  My heart beats with her name.  Kenley.  Kenley.  Kenley.  Kenley.  But it also beats with another name.  A name to yet be made.  The name of a baby yet to be born.   It's still a hard concept to wrap my brain around, but there IS room inside my heart for more than just my little ninja.  There is room enough for a brother or sister still to come.   The brother or sister who WILL come.   In April.  

I'm Guilty

While pregnant, I:

1. Consumed small amounts of caffeine on a weekly basis
2. Ate bites of raw cookie dough a few times
3. Slept on my right side and sometimes even my back
4. Had one glass of wine at a dinner party once
5. Forgot to take my pre-natal vitamin at least twice a week
6. Was on my feet all day Monday through Friday
7. Rested my cell phone and Ipad on my stomach when I wasn't using them
8. Poked her a lot
9. Lifted my hands above my head to reach things from high places
10. Picked up a few heavy objects
11. Rearranged my students desks a few times
12. Sat next to a smoking person at an outdoor festival
13.  Ate deli sandwiches
14. Had a few bites of brie cheese
15. Ran into the counter's edge several times with my belly
16. Took allergy medication
17. Probably didn't drink enough water
18. Ate a lot of fast food
19. Forgot to floss
20. Complained about being pregnant

Although I feel slightly guilty about this entire list, it's the last one that gets me.   If I had known that being pregnant was the only time I was going to have with her, maybe I'd have been better about it.  I hated how I looked.  I thought I looked enormous and gross.  I would look and my bulging belly and grimace.  I grimaced!   I would tell Mike I felt fat and disgusting, and like a good husband, he would tell me I looked beautiful. But, I didn't feel it.  Truth be told, I didn't particularly enjoy being pregnant.   If I wasn't nauseous, I had other digestive issues.   I was plagued with heartburn and swollen ankles.  I was exhausted and constantly having to pee.  I couldn't sleep and my back ached.  At the time, I just wanted it to be over.  I wanted to be finished with pregnancy so I could move on with motherhood.  Now, I would give anything to have that time back.   To have just a few more moments with my baby alive.   My pregnancy was pretty standard - right up to the point when it completely wasn't.   I would gladly suffer through the worst pregnancy imaginable if it meant I could have a healthy, living baby at the end.  I would go through hell to get to heaven.  I wouldn't even think twice.   

So many mothers take pregnancy for granted.  Especially when you pass that 20 week mark, you think you're home free.   You swing your bat and hit that ball high and fast.   As it soars through the air, you run with an air of confidence.  Rounding first, second, third.  You're sliding into home and...thunk...you hear the sound of a ball hitting a glove.  You're out.  Game over.   The other team wins.   You never thought this would happen to you.   You're a good batter with a strong arm and a sharp aim.  You should have hit a homer.   But, you didn't.   And, so you sit in the dugout, covered in red clay and disappointment, wishing you'd paid more attention to the game.

Belly Dancer

Early on in my pregnancy, I posted a Facebook status stating some things I'd never do.  One of them was that I would never take a picture of my bare belly.  I hated those pictures.   To me, even the professionally done ones looked creepy to me.  Especially the ones when people put their hands over the belly button to look like a heart.   Ugh.   They bugged me.   They actually still do, but now for different reasons.   

However, I have to admit to the world, that I did, in fact, take a picture of my bare belly while I was pregnant.  Let me tell you why, though.   We didn't call Kenley "Ninja Baby" for nothing.  She was a kicking, flipping powerhouse in there.   She was especially active when I had music going - and was partial to Broadway show tunes.   I watched Les Miserables on stage and in the theater while I was pregnant and she couldn't keep still.   What can I say?  The girl had a thing for Jean Val Jean.  I loved to feel her move.  Loved it.   It made me feel like she was happy in there and giving me a heads up on her good mood.  Sometimes, I would try to make her move around.  Les Mis always did the trick.   When I snapped this picture, I knew I was going back on my word to never do such a thing.  But, I didn't care.  I was so amused with myself and my little ninja, I wanted to document the occasion.  I didn't have the rounded headphones, just the earbuds.  So, I put one in my ear for volume control, and one in my belly button.  Besides looking adorable, it was also very practical while moving around.

There she is, jamming away in there.   I'm sad you can't see it because it was a fun time.   This is one of my favorite pictures of her.   She was about 32 weeks here and had only about four more left to dance.  But, dance she did!