Isaac

HELP – The Whole World Is Pregnant

/ Isaac's Mom / 5 Comments

Ok – the WHOLE world isn’t pregnant, but it certainly feels that way.  While I was pregnant and still filled with hope for the future, the fact that so many people around me were pregnant or had young babies was exciting.  I’m not one to fixate on fitting in normally, but this was something I was looking forward to.  My husband’s twin sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, my godson, back in January.  It was just days before we broke the news that we were expecting a baby that would join this adorable new generation.  My nephew/godson is amazing.

A few months ago, my husband’s younger brother and his sweet wife announced that they too were expecting a baby around Christmastime this year.  I was so excited.  I couldn’t wait to help her pick out maternity clothes and to have someone else join this little club.  We were all having babies in the same order/timing we got married a couple of years ago.  This felt so right.  At the same time, 3 out of 7 wives in my husband’s group of southern friends were pregnant.  One gave birth just the day before we lost Isaac.  Her daughter is precious.  Another is due just two weeks after I was due in September.  Our kids were supposed to grow up together.  Even celebrities seem to be joining in on the trend.

This situation was perfect . . . when I was still part of the club.  Now it is torture.  I am so painfully jealous of my friends and family with their perfect chubby babies and still cute baby bumps.  I don’t do well with pregnant women and babies at the moment.  I have avoided baby sections in the few stores I’ve visited like the plague.  The grief specialist had to take me in through the back entrance to ensure I didn’t see any of the mothers with babies that the other doctors in the practice treat.  I haven’t even been able to talk to my still pregnant sister-in-law since we lost Isaac.  I’d love to call her and vent and let her know how much I love her, how much I hope she is doing well.  Right now, I just can’t bear it.

I want to be these girls, but instead, I am sitting here wondering if I will ever know what it’s like to give birth to a chubby screaming baby of my own.  My mother promises me that I will, but no one can promise that.  I have an unfortunate collection of genetic “stuff” and now a history of Preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome.  I have a 1 in 4 chance of getting sick again, and if it happens, it is likely to happen earlier in pregnancy.  At 32 weeks, Isaac would have needed some NICU time, but had such a high chance of survival.  Earlier will complicate things.

All I want is to turn back the clock.  I want to rejoin the pregnant girl/newborn baby club.  Having so many pregnant women around me doesn’t feel as amazing anymore.

Anxiety

/ Isaac's Mom / 1 Comment

I’ve always been an anxious person.  Long before Isaac, pregnancy or any of this, I was always worried about bad things happening.  I have vague memories of calling my dad’s carphone over and over again (before they had handheld cell phones) when my parents were at all late coming home.  Something must have happened to them, I’d think to myself.  In my junior year of high school, I survived a pretty horrible car accident.  Nearly a decade later I would be driving and suddenly be convinced that I was about to be hit by another car.  I did see someone for this, and while I would still worry about things periodically, the worst of my anxiety was managed.

Needless to say, pregnancy exacerbated my anxiety.  The internet is a scary place for a pregnant woman prone to anxiety, such as I was.  Early on I was convinced I had an ectopic pregnancy or some other complication.  Finally, around week 20, I started to calm down.  I could do this.  My body was doing this.  My biggest anxiety at 31.5 weeks pregnant was that I wasn’t going to finish the nursery in time.  Obviously, there were things I could more validly have worried about.

Losing Isaac and the trauma of giving birth to him under life-threatening circumstances has reignited my anxiety.  That’s perhaps an understatement.  I’ve been told it’s normal to be anxious after such an experience, and it does make sense.  However, it is pretty paralyzing.  A little less than two weeks after losing Isaac, my uncle’s arrival at the lake house triggered a panic attack.  Facing new people (new meaning those people who last saw me happy and pregnant) is pretty terrifying to me still.

I also find myself particularly attached to my husband.  I didn’t think anything of it until it was a “symptom” I could check off on a list at the grief specialist yesterday.  I’m nervous with my husband back at work.  I worry more than ever before about my husband’s safety on the drive back from work (he does spend nearly 3 hours a day commuting).

Today, I walked outside in the sweltering heat to call our 8-month-old Golden Retriever, Mowgli, back for his lunch.  We live at the back of a 12-acre lot, so this can be a difficult task.  We have a particular whistle that we do to get Mowgli to come running.  However, even after walking over to my parents’ house whistling the whole way, I didn’t hear the tell-tale sound of Mowgli’s tags.  The painters working over there hadn’t seen him.  He wasn’t in my parents’ house.  The guy, who maintains the property and usually can be seen with the puppy in tow, wasn’t even here.  I quickly started to panic.  My husband wasn’t here, my parents are away, and my dog was missing.  I spent an entire half hour imagining the worst.  Mowgli had chased someone down the driveway.  Mowgli had run through the invisible fence.  Something was wrong.  I imagined someone calling and telling me there had been an accident.  I imagined I’d never see our baby dog again.

I found him.  He’d gotten himself trapped in the meadow after following the gardeners down through a gate that had ultimately been closed.  He was sitting outside the fence crying, waiting for me to find him.

I don’t have some magical way to overcome the anxiety.  The hospital doctor gave me anxiety medication, but those drugs are addictive, and I only use them when I’m in an uncontrollable downward spiral.  I understand why I am anxious and know I am not alone in feeling this way.  I also know that anxiety is just a feeling, and is something I can overcome. Wish me luck.

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Mowgli

 

 

The Dreaded Question

/ Isaac's Mom / 3 Comments

People warn you right after you lose a baby that other people will say things that hurt despite the best of intentions.  There are TONS of things that are upsetting that make sense.  For example, “I know one day you will have lots of beautiful children.”  It’s someone sincerely hoping we one day have the baby to take home that we have always hoped for.  However, it makes me want to scream, “I ALREADY HAD A BEAUTIFUL CHILD, HIS NAME IS ISAAC.” The littlest thing can trigger me.  The thing that has triggered me the most lately, though, has been entirely unexpected. From the moment we were told that Isaac had died, people started asking us what kind of service we would have, where were we going to lay him to rest, and later where we planned to scatter his ashes.

 

We were absolutely not ready to answer that question moments after being told our baby was never going to come home with us like we had planned.  The morning after Isaac was born, my husband and I knew one thing – we wanted to have Isaac cremated.  It was an oddly easy call considering the circumstances.  We honestly did not even have to discuss it for more than the briefest moment.  I am not 100% certain how the Catholic religion handles cremation (and am not looking to do any research on the matter), but I do know that Judaism prohibits cremation.  I am not especially religious and have actually been disappointed in how my religion deals with infant loss.  Judaism doesn’t really do much for babies who do not survive at least 30 days. I know it’s a rule from a much different time and world where many more babies were lost, but it is obviously a rule developed by someone who never lost a baby.  The bottom line is that we never had any doubts on the matter.

 

After Isaac’s autopsy, he was returned to the area and cremated.  It was too hard for us to go pick him up ourselves, so my parents lovingly did so. He’s still in the tiny red velvet bag that he came home in.  We have him inside the remembrance box the hospital gave us temporarily.  People suggested that we put some of his ashes with the trees we plant, but we haven’t been able to part with him.  He was such a tiny little baby, the bag we have is painfully small.  So far the only plan is to wear a special necklace with the tiniest bit of him enclosed so I can carry him with me always.  We need to do something with him besides leave him in a bag.  He deserves so much better than that.  It turns out finding an urn for a baby is really difficult.

 

On the whole service/funeral matter – I feel like everyone asks me.  They don’t mean anything at all by it.  Well perhaps they have expectations, but they don’t mean to upset us.  At first, it was easy to say that we were simply going to honor him in a lot of varied ways.  Now I am starting to worry that  eventually I will regret not having had any traditional ceremony.  Perhaps we are depriving others of a chance to say goodbye to our baby boy.  We may feel the loss the most acutely, but it wasn’t only my husband and I that lost Isaac.  I don’t want to deprive anyone, but then I panic because I don’t want to ever say goodbye to him.  Plus, what if we pick some sort of ceremony or service and it feels wrong?

 

The truth is that I don’t know what to do.  I know there isn’t a right answer.  I also know that this isn’t supposed to be easy.  The bottom line?  People keep asking me this question and I find it so upsetting, but it is just because I realize I have no idea what the answer is.

Honoring Isaac

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If there is one thing that has been helpful throughout this terrible time it has been finding ways to honor our beautiful baby boy.  From the first day we left the hospital I was consumed with an urge to commemorate the fact that we made perfect little boy named Isaac.  I think my inclination is to worry that the world will forget that this ever happened.  So below are some of the ways we’ve been remembering our baby.

  • Planting a Tree: We planted a pin oak tree in New Hampshire. IMG_0464 Some day we will put a little sign on the tree and it will always be a special place for us to feel close to Isaac.  A close family friend offered to plant one here, in Pennsylvania, as well.  My husband’s parents also hinted they might plant a similar tree in Charlotte.  This makes my heart as close to happy as it will get at the moment.
  • Jewelery: I’ve likely gone overboard here, but being able to wear things that symbolize Isaac is comforting.  So far I have a necklace.Satya  It’s actually Isaac’s sign, Cancer, with his birthstone, Ruby, mixed in.  I got mine from Satya.  I actually found myself calmer while wearing it.  We are looking for a ring that I can wear as well.  I want something small and stackable with his birthstone (and his name inside if possible).  The idea will be to put small rings with my birthstone and my husband’s around it for now.  Then, hopefully, when we have more children, we can add rings for them as well.  My mom has a stack for her kids (me and my three younger sisters).  They’re perfect, but, unfortunately the jeweler has gone out of business. Etsy has tons of rings, but it is so hard to know if they are high quality and this is one piece of jewelery I couldn’t bear to have break or not look nice. We’re going to take my mom’s rings to a local jeweler we trust to see if he knows someone who can make something similar for us.
  • Crafts: I’ve always liked crafts, but this experience has driven me to learn some new ones.  When I was much younger, I went to overnight camp.  It was a sports camp and I did not like it.  However, I did learn to use a router to carve wooden signs.  Random, right?  All of those signs are scattered around my parents’ lakehouse.  The first night I was out of the hospital, I was looking at the mantle in my bedroom and just decided it had an empty spot where an Isaac sign belonged.  My dad bought be a dremel, and after a few days of practicing I carved a sign with our baby’s name.IMG_2207
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    We filled in the carved part with my husband’s favorite color, and my dad put copper around the edge.  He’s going to add a coat of varnish.  We wrote a little message to Isaac on the back.

  • Charity: While I initially had a terrible doctor in the hospital (yes – you can save someone’s life and be terrible simultaneously – another story for another time), I could not have been luckier with my second doctor and one of the most remarkable groups of women for nurses.  I was basically in the middle of nowhere in a tiny hospital with a total of 25 beds, but I received amazing medical care.  In lieu of flowers and such, we asked for people to donate to Speare Memorial Hospital’s Labor & Delivery Department.  They have received an outpouring of gifts in Isaac’s memory that I never could have imagined.  On the one hand, we’ve been able to actually see the love that existed in this world for our baby boy.  On the other hand, our loss could actually help other people in similar situations.  The hospital has two labor and delivery rooms, the one that I spent my entire visit in is going to be named in honor of Isaac.  Someday, when I’m feeling stronger, my husband and I will go and see it.IMG_2269
  • Gifts: I’m not the only one who lost Isaac.  Our family and friends lost him too.  My husband craves personal reminders of our son the same way that I do. He has asked for a subtle bracelet (this is challenging since he’s not someone I picture wearing bracelets generally).  I will find one eventually.  I did get him a keychain with Isaac’s footprints engraved on it.  The footprints we got from the hospital weren’t fantastic, and it looks like he only had 8 toes (he had 10 – we counted every one), but they are perfect to us.  My mother in law and sisters in law are also interested in something to remember Isaac.  I am searching for the perfect things for them.  Looking for the perfect gifts seems like such a trivial thing to be doing 3 weeks after our world caved in on us, but it’s simultaneously distracting and lets me remember my son. 

    I know I’m forgetting things we’ve been doing.  Also, not everything we do is something that others can see.  We’re trying to be better people every single day to honor our son.  He deserves the best.

Loss

/ Isaac's Mom / 2 Comments

Part of me hopes that if you have found this page, it is not because you have been through what my husband and I have gone through.  The other part hopes that if you have gone through something similar, this site might bring you some comfort.  I suppose I am getting ahead of myself.  On July 16, 2016, at 32 weeks pregnant, I gave birth to a son, Isaac, just 30 or so hours after being told he had passed away.  I had done things the right way.  I had exercised regularly, avoided cold cuts, eaten well, slept well – the works.  However, I had developed HELLP Syndrome, a dangerous pregnancy complication, related to the much more commonly known Preeclampsia.

To be clear, I had noticed the telltale symptoms of Preeclampsia weeks prior to our loss.  I’d learned about them in our Prepared Childbirth class. In fact, I had asked my OB at my recent appointment about my suddenly elevated blood pressure, rapidly worsening swelling and seeing spots in my vision.  This doctor, the man who delivered me 29 years ago and was supposed to be monitoring my high-risk pregnancy, told me everything was normal and ushered me out of his office.  I later discovered he didn’t even note the concerns in my chart. The symptoms continued, I developed a pain in my chest that radiated through to my back.  It was my arthritis, I told myself.  I gained 9 lbs in 3 weeks, but the doctor wasn’t concerned and he knew way more about pregnancy than this first-time momma to be.  My family and I joked about my feet, which no longer fit into any shoes but my flip flops.  I joked about my new superpower, the ability to see my own cheeks.  None of us realized how bad things had gotten.

The hospital apparently knew what was happening to me pretty soon after realizing Isaac had passed away.  Although, in an effort to keep me calm, my diagnosis was discussed behind closed doors.  I knew something was really wrong with me – they couldn’t get my veins to cooperate, I had to have my blood pressure constantly monitored, and some poor anesthesiologist had to explain to me that because my platelets were low, an epidural was out of the question.  At one point I insisted on executing a living will.  Despite an IV full of pain and anxiety medication and limited information, I knew something was dangerously wrong with me.

I have since filled in most of the gaps with the help of my husband, parents, and sisters, who all rushed to my side when they heard the terrible news.  I will save that for another time.  The sad and unavoidable truth is that 3 weeks and one day ago, we lost our baby boy.  We’d had huge hopes and dreams for our baby boy.  The nursery was well underway, the baby shower complete.  We were supposed to be on our last vacation as just a couple.  Instead, we were forced to say goodbye to a little boy we will never get to know.

If I haven’t lost you yet, congratulations.  The past three weeks have been a rollercoaster, and I expect things to continue on in an unpredictable and difficult manner.  I’d been thinking, though, that maybe our story could help other couples.  Maybe our story can help another couple identify a problem before a tragic loss, maybe it can comfort someone else who has lost a baby far too soon.  I’m going to be brutally honest on this blog.  I will tell our story in more depth.  I will share some, if not all, of the letters I have written nightly since leaving the hospital.  I will share the ways that we are grieving, the ways that we are choosing to remember the perfect baby we will never again hold.  If it doesn’t help someone else, it will at least help me.

 

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Our beautiful son, Isaac.

 

 

Day 7

/ Isaac's Mom / Leave a comment

July 23, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Your journal is here!  It’s beautiful, and the colors and constellations on the cover remind me of peaceful happy times.  I’ve spent the last 6 years looking to the skies for signs of my Bup Bup (your great grandpa) in the form of a rainbow.  He was the coolest, most loving grandfather, and we have decided that there is no way he isn’t taking care of you in our Judaism-defying heaven.  Ultimately, I feel like the stars are where he tucks you in at night, which makes this cover seem fitting.  I also love seeing your name written places with some permanence.  I plan to paint the world with your name, because you are my son, my baby, and you deserve it.  I’ll wait to share those ideas.  I want to make sure I can do them justice first.  Nothing but the best for you, munchkin.

It turns out that I may not be the only one writing to you.  Your Aunt EB (yes – you have tons of aunts and uncles) told me about writing to you too.  Your daddy and grandpa have also expressed an interest, but who knows.  You boys are a different breed when it comes to emotions.  Today we Facetimed with your Aunt Sarah.  I hadn’t talked to your daddy’s family.  They love you and miss you so much that I was scared I would fall apart.  Sarah was a good starting point.  She is your daddy’s twin and your cousin Harlan’s mommy.  I so wish you two had the chance to know and love each other.  You two would have ruled the cousins for sure.

I also texted with your Aunt EB.  It was nice to talk about you and what happened to us.  She did tell me that your grandma is still having a hard time talking about losing you.  The first call with her will be the hardest.  She could not wait to spoil you rotten with good, old-fashioned love.  She is so good at that.

I will admit that I broke down mid-day trying to wrap my head around moving on with life without you.  I am scared to exist without you.  I know I just have to keep you with me.  I will ALWAYS keep you in my mind and heart.  I have to learn to live with this new emptiness from not having you here physically.  I read a quote today that mad me happy/sad.  It goes, “I carried you your whole life.”  It’s true and wonderful, but so sad.  As a coworker said, I carried you just beneath my heart so you must know how much I loved you (love you still).  My heart feels much emptier now without you.  I’m working to fill it with love.  Your daddy, Mowgli, Cali and our families are a start, but the Isaac puzzle piece will always be there for you, kid.

Love you to the moon and back,

Mommy

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Your Journal

 

 

Day 6

/ Isaac's Mom / Leave a comment

July 22, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Today wasn’t as bad as yesterday.  It is unfathomable to me that a week ago, you and I were ripping through the final stages of labor.  It really still feels like time should have stopped without you.  While life is utterly worth living, it’s a small mercy that you will never have to learn first hand that life is not fair.

Some people continue to amaze me with their compassion and kindness.  Writing to you each night has been the most therapeutic thing for me each day.  Your grandpa’s best friend and his wife sent a truly beautiful journal with the sweetest note about how sometimes the most comforting words are our own.  I always joked that you were going to have the most “aunties” and “uncles” of any kid out there.  So many people were so excited to meet you and spoil you.  I hope you know how deeply loved you were.

Mommy tried some coping mechanisms today.  Your Aunt Izzy purchased us a coloring book called “Release Your Anger”. It’s a book full of illustrated bad words that mommy and Daddy would never have let you use.  Coloring was the most relievingly mindless activity.  I also looked at some blogs and quotes from people who have similarly had to say goodbye to their perfect babies far too soon.  We feel sad and empty without you.  While I wish no one else ever had to experience such a gut-wrenching loss, it is comforting to know that we are not alone and that what we feel is some sad sort of normal.

I promise to write you happier things soon!  I’ll leave you with something positive.  Aunt Lisa made meatloaf tonight.  She’s spoiling me with my favorites and it was thoroughly delicious.  I can feel my appetite starting to return.

Anyways, I miss you so much wherever you are.  I hope my love is reaching you.

Love forever and always,

Your Mommy

Day 4

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July 20, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Mommy and Daddy ventured out into the world today.  Admittedly it was a forced march.  It turns out Mommy still has high blood pressure.  I know I was very sick when you were born, but I suspect some of the pressure comes from missing you so badly.

Watching things start to return to normal is wildly upsetting.  I know everyone is hurting in your absence, but people are adjusting a bit already.  I am not and selfishly wish the whole world could freeze.  I love you so much that I actually want to be tortured by losing you.  I AM tortured by losing you.

Daddy and I had to go to the funeral home today.  We were so close to you physically and it was torture not to be able to see you one last time.  I would do anything to hold you for another minute.  It is a small comfort that you are wearing Mommy and Daddy’s Thailand bracelets.  They are fancy – in fact, many would be inclined to throw them away.  However, those bracelets are a distinct sentimental piece of your parents.  WE got those bracelets on our honeymoon to Thailand just over two years ago.  Mommy had gotten every bad piece of luck available at this famous temple.  Finally, a monk gave us each a bracelet for luck and hit us with a wet stick to seal the deal (this was a part of the prayer).  I know these bracelets worked.  Before the bracelets, my fortune there said that I would not get pregnant, but low and behold we conceived you!  It just seemed fitting that you should take these pieces of your parents that gave us the blessing of knowing you.

We would have loved to take you back to Thailand.  Maybe we can find a way once you’re returned to us.  They love babies there.  We will certainly find ways to take you everywhere we go.

Mommy’s mom and sister got Mommy an urn necklace in which I can wear a piece of you all the time.  It was very sweet.  I am also looking at some rings to remember your overly warm birth month!  Other people are doing very generous things in your honor.  The room I gave birth to you in is being dedicated to you.  “The Isaac Immel Delivery Suite” would have a nice ring to it.  Further, gifts have flooded into the hospital from people who loved you and us.  Generosity knows no bounds.  Finally, Grandpa proposed naming his new wooden boat “I.I.”  It is a perfect play on aye aye…so much generosity out of love for you.  So I guess today did have some high points.  Thanks for helping me realize that.  On that note, Mommy has to sign off.  Mourning you has exhausted me to my core.  So know that if I was there with you, I’d sing you a lullaby and tuck you in cozily beside me.  But you aren’t here, so “Goodnight and I love you” have to suffice.

Love you forever,

Mommy