The Day The Music Died

Three years ago today we experienced the death of innocence. I remember the day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

HB was teaching at a huge school, being led by a horrible, nasty man as administrator. I was working three blocks from the maternity hospital, and being followed by the high risk unit due to my "advanced maternal age" syndrome. We had a 3:30 p.m. appointment for our third ultrasound, and were quite excited about seeing our little boy again. I was particularly looking forward to it because, although we had heard his heartbeat on the doppler at our regular GP appointment two weeks earlier, I had felt little movement on his part during the last few days.

HB's Nasty Man decided that morning that HB would not be able to leave school early to both meet and drive me to the appointment, but rather that he would have to stay and coach the soccer team after school. Fortunately, HB took a stand and refused. Not in time to pick me up, but he did make it on time for the appointment.

I grabbed a cab, and found my way up to the clinic....absently rubbing my bump. I remember the taxi driver chatting away about his grandchildren, and wishing me luck as I got out of the cab.

HB arrived all in a flap, and we settled down to wait.

The nurse called us in, and got us settled on the table. The wand appeared and the screen flashed up.

HB was up by my head, holding my hand.

And the picture appeared on the screen. An angelic little boy, hands practically curled under his head...settled in a forever sleeping fetal position at the bottom of the screen.

I knew right away. The nurse technician looked at me, and said "I think we all know what we're seeing here", to which I replied "yes".

HB was frantically looking back and forth between me, the nurse and the screen. "No! No!" he insisted. "No, the baby is just sleeping. Look...he's fine. He'll be just fine!"

And then he too realized.

The rest is a bit of a blur. The crying. The phone calls to cancel a gig we had booked for that night...ever responsible the two of us are even in grief....the amnio to see if there could be any possible answer....the awesomeness of the nurse we were blessed to have that awful day.

And the walk back out to the car, and home.

I found a picture of myself this weekend. I was obviously pregnant, in the kitchen, with Mini Me and Frodo sitting at the table while I stood at the counter. They never even knew that they had a brother.

Ironic that as I type this today, the skies have just opened up and the heavens are pouring out their tears right along with mine.

Low Points and High Fives

I haven't been writing much ... although I've had lots going on this past week or so. I've been on the road a lot for work, and then was off attending a conference over the weekend. It seems like HB and I have been passing in the front foyer, and occasionally make time for a grope and such in the bedroom.

When I got home Sunday night, I didn't even make it into the house before he started to dump! He got me in the driveway and he talked and talked and talked. He had been alone with the kidlings all weekend and it did not go so well. I guess we've become accustomed to being a two adult family. There was a part of me that did heart flips when I realized that I do, indeed, have a solid place in this family, and that when I'm not here, there's an impact. So tonight, I sat with Mini-Me and helped with his homework while HB did the domestic dinner and lunch making thing. It was awesome. I didn't get a hug or anything, but I did get a few belly laughs, two high fives and one "that was cool Sandy". I'll take it.

I've had a few tear bursts around babies of late. I really thought I was so over that stuff! I saw the perfect little family at the grocery store yesterday. Mom, Dad and two kids under 2, wheeling around playing peek a boo. I did the pinched smile cuz I'm gonna cry thing, and avoided them for the rest of the shopping trip.

The day before that I couldn't help but overhear my coworker congratulating someone on their pregnancy over the phone. They discussed it for a long time. I left to catch the bus, and sat in front of someone who talked about her sister-in-law's miscarriage at five months for most of the trip home.

I realized tonight that I'm six days away from the anniversary of Brodie's death. Three years ago. And here I sit ... no closer, just older and a little bit slimmer.

In case anyone's following, I decided not to fill the clomid again this month. I know it's there if I decide differently. I just can't keep filling myself up with false hope every month, and every month I take the clomid, I just can't imagine why it won't help me. In a sick kind of way, I'm almost grateful that I'm not a candidate for any other treatment that we would have considered. I have a whole new sense of amazement at the strength of the women who pursue other treatments. Truly. Courageous, strong women ... all of whom would make the best damn mothers in the world.

So perhaps I won't get to experience a full term pregnancy. Perhaps I won't even get to experience pregnancy again at all. Maybe it's time to begin understanding and celebrating the mother role that I do have - and savour those high-fives.

A Little Charmer

Our marriage is going to survive because we never see each other! HB is away again this weekend. The band is playing on PEI. He wanted to go about as much as he enjoys root canal. Before he gets back, I'll be on the road headed to the other end of the province for work. We'll see each other Monday night but then I leave again Friday for the weekend.

And of course, as a going away present for him, my period arrived. So I'm sitting here today, weighing the pros and cons of filling my clomid prescription. I have a few hours left to make the decision. I'm really not sure which way I'll go.

It's been a good week. Back to the routine of school for HB and the kids. The kids were over for their mid week night with us on the first day of school. We had a great night. Mini Me is the coolest kid! I've been following Weight Watchers now since the beginning of July, and he has been very interested in the whole process. Every once in a while he'll ask why I weigh and measure my food...or why I won't eat certain things that they are eating. At supper this night he asked me why I don't eat french fries anymore. Now Mini Me is overweight as well, so we answer these questions carefully - taking the opportunity to do the education around healthy eating thing.

I replied that it wasn't that I don't eat french fries anymore, but rather that I made choices about when to eat fries because I am trying to lose weight.

Then he melted my heart. He said, "But Sandy, you've already lost a TON of weight! You used to be out to here and now you're like in to here . You don't NEED to lose any more weight! Have a french fry!"

That boy is going to be a heartbreaker and woman charmer. He's got all the right moves!

And no, I did not have a fry, despite his words!

I'm a Masochist

It's 10:30 a.m. here. HB just called and he's on his way home!!! It's a 13 hour drive and they've been going for about 2 hours, so not long now.

Ok be honest - is there anyone else out there watching the inevitable Labour Day Baby Story marathon today? I don't know why I do it every year, but I do. Sit, watch and cry. And wish. What amazes me is how perfect these families always appear to be on this show - doing all this cutesy stuff like stuffing bears, and having family bbqs. Relatives that they haven't seen in years showing up with gifts and speaking so positively about how awesome the couple is as parents. Oh Lord, even the doctor delivering the baby in this one is pregnant!

My life on Baby Story??

They interview my relatives, who admit that they don't really know my husband's name, nor those of my stepchildren. They are not able to speak to the preciousness of this tv pregnancy because they aren't aware of how much we've struggled. The tv crew comes in to interview HB and I, but can't find us because we're hiding in the house. I'm hiding under the covers in our bedroom, afraid to move because we've actually progressed to a stage where there just might actually be a baby at the end of the trip. HB is chasing Frodo and Mini-Me around the house trying to get them to simultaneously clean up their mess and be quiet ~ two things we've never managed to accomplish.

And if I could ever get to the labour and delivery stage, I can't even begin to imagine that I would handle it with the grace and calmness with which these women appear to deliver.

No matter. This is probably the closest I'm going to get to having a baby.

Sweaters, Smoking and Dawg Sitting

This has been the longest long weekend! With HB a gazillion miles away, and no kids around, even the dawgs have been low key. Even most of my neighbours have gone away for the weekend, which has made the street, which of late has been a zoo, tranquil and quiet. As a matter of fact, this morning I am the official dog watcher for two of my neighbours. I've already lost one dog, and stepped in poop twice.

I connected with a girlfriend whom I haven't seen in a few months, which was nice. I cleaned out our bedroom closet and got three bags of clothing picked up by Big Brothers/Big Sisters. HB's Mr.Rogers sweaters went in the bags. For a cool guy, he's got some wonky taste in certain things ~ I'm going to choose to believe that Knothead bought those sweaters for him. No matter, they're history now.

But mostly I battled my mind about smoking. I got it into my head that I wanted a cigarette this weekend. No, not just "a" cigarette. I wanted to smoke. I wanted to sit on my back deck, in this perfect weather, watch the stars and smoke. And I wanted it to taste good, not affect my breathing, or make me stink. Geeze ~ I'm starting to see how unrealistic I am about so many things. I want to conceive and have the pregnancy stick around. I want to lose 40 or 50 lbs. I want to get promoted at work. And I want to be able to smoke with no ill effects.

I'm ashamed to say that I gave in. Twice. On Friday I went to the store and bought a little pack. I got home, lit up and took three drags before I thought "what the hell am I doing?". I butted it out, and proceeded to break up and throw out every one of the remaining 19 smokes.

And that was fine. Until yesterday after supper. Off I go again to the store, and buy another small pack. I sat on the deck, in this perfect weather, enjoying the quiet and smoked three this time.

And I stunk. And I felt a tightness in my throat almost right away. So I tore up the remaining 17 and threw them out too.

So I spent $20 for 4 cigarettes. But worse, I gave in to a head game and almost let it win! I'm in that two week waiting period, so who the hell knows? After all my whining, I could be pregnant...not likely...but why did I take the chance? I forced myself to go on line and google about smoking until I could find something to motivate me. And what I found wasn't pretty. I found this . I have printed it off and am going to keep it with me, to remember the poor man, but also to remind myself that it could be me.

That's it. HB is not allowed to go away any more. I'm too immature to stay on my own!

Filled Up Yet Broken Hearted

Sometimes you are given just exactly what you need, when you need it. Last night was one of those nights. I did indeed speak. And I spoke honestly about what's been going on in my life of late. After I spoke, the general practice is that people who are there get up and speak - either about something that they've heard that they were touched by, or they might share something that's been going on with them through the last month.

I've been going to these gatherings since 1986, and I've never been the speaker. Last night, the folks that got up after I spoke literally filled me up. They each spoke directly to my heart, and for someone who has been really questioning her worth of late, that heart needed to be spoken to! I was fed and filled.

This morning I had an excellent meeting related to the project I am working on. I happened to bump into the person that I report to, and with whom I've been having some challenges. I mentioned in passing about the excellent meeting, and she said "you must have done a great job on the presentation for that meeting to go so well".

You could have knocked me over. This woman just does NOT give praise.

My heart is breaking for the people hit by the hurricane. I'm just completely baffled by the slowness of response by the federal government. I can't help but wonder whether the fact that most of the people affected are poor and largely non-white is impacting it or not. What is our world coming to when we're more concerned with stopping looters than we are with rescuing, feeding and housing our brothers and sisters? My heart is breaking for these people, and I feel so damn helpless all the way up here. I heard on the news today that our Prime Minister called Bush to offer aid, and it was politely refused as there is "no need for international aid" at this time. Excuse me? Unless what I'm seeing on the television is totally out of whack...you take the aid that is offered.

I feel like all I can do is pray.