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!