Family

The Girl Who Runs Out of Movies

/ Isaac's Mom / 4 Comments

There seems to be a very delicate balance between not being ready to face certain emotional triggers and just not wanting to at all.  It’s hard to discern whether things are too raw for me and I should wait, or I have to just push through a bit of discomfort and basically face my fears.  Yesterday we accidentally misjudged which category a particular outing fell into.  There are a number of movies out right now that I want to see.  One of those movies is The Secret Life of Pets, and in an effort to get me out into the world, my husband bought tickets for us yesterday.  That it was a children’s movie didn’t even cross our minds.  We’ve always loved animated movies.  The first movie that my husband and I ever watched together was How to Train Your Dragon.

When my husband booked the tickets (it’s one of those theaters with reserved reclining seats), not a single ticket had been reserved yet.  The movie had been out a while, and we expected an empty theater.  We were quite wrong.  When we arrived, it was empty.  Then a steady stream of mothers with little boys walked in and took their seats.  I sat there anxiously and mentioned to my husband that this might have been a bad idea.  A few years from now, that was supposed to be me with Isaac and his little buddies from pre-school.  However, I decided that these were emotions that I could push through.  I probably could have.

As the previews started, I continued to doubt our decision to go to an animated movie. The first preview was for a movie called Storks, a movie playing on the tales parents tell their kids about where babies come from.  The preview put a lump in my throat, but as it ended the feeling passed.

Then the unthinkable happened.  A couple came in, right as the movie was about to start, and sat down in the empty seats to our left.  So we weren’t the only adults in the area who wanted to see a kids movie on a Friday at lunchtime – no big deal.  However, this wasn’t just any couple.  The wife was extremely pregnant and happy.  I’d venture she was about as pregnant as I should have been right now.  Today I would have been 36 weeks pregnant.  I couldn’t stop peeking over at her.  Did they know how lucky they were?  Did they know how quickly it could be over?

Maybe the pregnant couple shouldn’t have been so upsetting to me, but – you see – there was a reason we didn’t see the movie right when it came out.  I was saving up movies to see as a way to escape the August heat while waiting for Isaac to arrive.  We were supposed to be that happy pregnant couple, but instead our baby boy is already gone and I am the woman who can’t stop staring at the pregnant girl in the movie theater.

I had mentioned to my husband that I was struggling, and he told me that if I was unable to enjoy the movie he would gladly leave.  However, I wanted to see the movie.  I tried to get distracted by the cute animated animals that were doing ridiculous things on the screen.  It didn’t work.  It was hard to breathe, and I was overheating despite the AC.  Eventually,  I whispered to my husband that I couldn’t do it.  I tried to get up slowly and leave, but it turned into a weird high-speed escape.  I got into the hall, where I knew I needed to wait for my husband and his mother, and immediately started crying.  I cried the entire drive home, curled up in bed, and then cried some more.  I spent the whole afternoon and evening trying to distract myself in bed.   Day over.

So, as it happens, this was a case of not being ready to face certain realities.  It’s too soon to surround myself with reminders of what could have and should have been us.  This isn’t the first time I have ended up in a situation that I needed to escape, and I am sure this won’t be the last.  To those of you in this same depressing boat, there is no shame in not being ready.  Grieving is going to occur on its own schedule.  There is no need to force it.  Know that you aren’t alone.

Day 14

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July 31, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Today we went home.  Every second of it felt wrong.  I know you are with me and Daddy always, but it still felt like saying goodbye.  Bringing you home in a tiny box, containing an even tinier red velvet bag, felt so wrong.  Traffic was brutal, I cried until I was sick, and both Mowgli and Cali ended up sick.  Daddy held you in his lap the whole ride home.  It’s not a  ride in a car seat back from the hospital, but it is the best we will ever have.

This house feels like a prison of memories.  Seeing the nursery returned to a guestroom brought me to my knees.  Thank goodness your Daddy was there to catch me.  I found the package of positive pregnancy tests I had saved.  The so comforted me once, proving that you really existed.  I couldn’t believe we could be so lucky and so I proved it to myself every single morning.  I’ll never part with them – my concrete proof that this wasn’t just a terrible dream.

Daddy keeps trying to comfort me, saying there will be another baby.  While I so want a baby, there will never be another Isaac Immel.

Unfortunately, I’ve become a bit obsessed over what happened to you.  I know my body failed you, but I can’t help wondering if there was something else we missed.  Maybe your toes, while perfect to me, might not have been normal?  For all I know you were genetically perfect – I mean you were perfect and we love every millimeter of you.  I just want to know why I am not laying here cuddling you.  What did we miss?  Could we have prevented it?

The doctor in New Hampshire said we would have results in a few months.  I need answers now.  The wondering is eating me alive.

Mommy’s are supposed to be strong and I promise I am trying.  I will be better for you.  I just need more time.

Your Grandpa almost finished your signed for me today.  He sanded it down and hammered on a gorgeous copper border.  It still needs varnish, but it came out better than I imagined.  I am certainly going to make one for home.  We also got a letter from Grandpa’s friends.  They’re going to get us a pin oak for home too.  I can’t wait.  We want to have a physical place to feel close to you.  We will put a bench under it and it will be lovely.  This isn’t how it was supposed to be, but we will try to make the best of it.

Love you,

Mommy

Day 14

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July 30, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Happy two-week birthday-versary.  It seems today was our last day in New Hampshire.  I say “it seems” because I won’t believe it until Daddy has managed to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.  I know we have our physical pieces of you, but I can’t help but feel like I am leaving you behind.  We brought you here a bouncing baby in my belly, who we absolutely could not wait to meet.  We leave with a tiny (impossibly tiny) bag, broken hearts, and lonely belly.  This is the last place we were together as a family, the last place I felt you rolling around inside me.  This is the place where we lost you, the place I had to live on without you, the place I labored, and the place I delivered you with Daddy firmly by my side.  The is the place where we held you, cried for you and played “Crazy Love”, our first wedding dance song, while cherishing our final moments with you.  This is the place your Daddy worked so hard to help me heal physically and emotionally.  This is the place where I realized how strongly I could love (both you and Daddy).  This just feels like our place and I don’t want to leave it.

Home will be empty without you and lonely without my parents.  Home means life is one step closer to a new normal that I so desperately want to avoid.  Home means seeing your nursery returned to an unassuming guest room.  Home means pretending all of this didn’t happen if I want to function.  I love home – I do.  But it feels like I am leaving part of my soul in New Hampshire.

I hope you will follow me home.  Everyone says that you will, but I struggle to believe that you won’t feel a bit more distant.

On a different note, I finally carved your sign with your Grandpa’s help.  We didn’t have some of the finishing tools, so your Grandpa is going to sand, varnish and frame it for us.  It should come as no shock that your Daddy picked red paint for the lettering.

Speare Memorial Hospital is naming our room there after you.  Hopefully, we can return Columbus Day to see it.  Your Grandpa gave a beautiful toast during our chili dinner tonight.  There were a number of tears shed.  There were no jokes, just kind complimenting words.  He told us we were parents now because of you and that nothing can change that.  It is so very true.  I am so proud and honored to be your mommy, no matter the pain.

I love you so dearly,

Mommy

Day 13

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July 29, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Two weeks ago today, at the very moment, I was severely in labor with you.  You were about to tear into our lives less than two hours from now.  It really seems like just yesterday that you changed out lives forever.  Today was a big day.  I wrote to our lovely fertility doctor about developing a path to a baby sibling for you.  She may have thought I was crazy, but the idea of a plan keeps us sane.

Mommy and Daddy went into Meredith with your Grandma and Lisa today to check out some shops.  We shopped for a few hours and only ended up with a bit of candy.  We also went to Lakeside View for a burger, sandwich and Mommy’s first postpartum beer.  We even got Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cones after.  For a brief moment, it was like being a little kid again.

On the way home we stopped at Squam Marketplace and got your cousin, Harlan, a stuffed animal Moose that matches the one we have for you.  Neither of you will understand, but it will be nice to have that connection.  Mommy and Daddy will hold onto yours for you and smile when we cuddle it.

Your great uncle, his girlfriend and two of my cousins arrived here in NH today.  I am ashamed that I had a full blown panic attack upon their arrival.  Seeing new people who knew me so pregnant with you feels like a punch in the gut every time.  I know they love us and you, but that’s what kills me.  There was supposed to be a baby, a baby named Isaac, who was so loved already.  You were perfect but you are already gone.

Daddy rowed with your Grandpa again tonight.  He’s such an incredibly gifted natural athlete.  Let’s hope you would have had his good genes.  I think you would have loved watching fly across the cove.

I dreamt for the first time in a while last night.  I dreamt that you were very much still with us.  I was trying to make you smile for a picture.  I don’t remember the rest, but I woke with a start and quickly came to realize you weren’t here.  I had vaguely similar dreams before I was pregnant with you.  I always woke up supremely disappointed that I had not had a baby.   This was so much worse.  I got a tease of how beautiful our lives as a family could have been and woke to remember that it ended before it ever began.  I am so sorry I never got to make you smile.

I love you so much,

Mommy

Day 12

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July 28, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Today was extra emotional for Mommy.  Losing you still feels like some weird out-of-body experience that must have happened to someone else.  I just couldn’t work on my Isaac projects because I missed you too badly to focus.  It’s possible that yesterday was so busy that I didn’t let myself miss you enough.  When I woke up, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I made a real effort for you.  I know you want me to try to be happy.  The garners brought and planted your tree today.  It’s about 15 feet tall and a Pin Oak.  Daddy, Mowgli and I watched them dig a great big hole to plant it.  It’s like the tree was meant to be here.  Pin Oaks grow fast and strong, just like you would have.  Some day, we’ll put a bench under its shade so we can read to you and feel close to you.  That’s all I can get, so I will take it.

Mommy and Daddy also went to meet your Grandma and Great Aunt Lisa at the League in Sandwich.  We got a really nice mug for Daddy that matches the one he has been using here.

We also went out to dinner for the first time.  We went to Squam Lake Inn.  It was a bit much for me still.  There were foods I couldn’t eat while pregnant with you.  I was trying to protect you (although it turns out I couldn’t after all). I also couldn’t have alcohol despite constantly craving a margarita. So tonight I decided to have some of the banned items.  I had tuna tartare and a margarita.  They were a huge let down.  I don’t want to be able to have them and they have therefore lost their appeal.  You see – I would rather have you in my belly.  I’d do anything.  I would even sacrifice my own life in a heartbeat to bring you back.

I know I have so much to be grateful for, but you are the most beautiful and innocent thing I ever was responsible for.  Daddy and I made you and we worked so hard to do so.  You were our miracle.

I never understood why people needed heaven until now.  Now, I get it.  You must be in some heaven.  I can’t understand a world where your spirit doesn’t live on.  We just love you too much.

Sweet dreams, Isaac.

Love Forever,

Mommy

Day 11

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July 27, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Today was a busy day.  Dadd and I went to my second blood pressure check.  My medicine is working and my blood pressure has finally returned to a normal level.  I also had to get some blood work.  I was so scared after the difficulty they had when I was having you.  The nurse was the one who had to get down on the floor to draw blood from my fingertips.  She could not believe how different I looked.  Retrospectively, my face was SO swollen.  The nurse told me her sister-in-law went through the same thing we’re going through with her first and went on to have three normal pregnancies.  Daddy and I would love to give you three healthy little brothers or sisters.  I promise to tell them all about their handsome big brother.

On the way to the doctor, we stopped and got a new dress for me at a totally out of place boutique in Ashland.  We are going out to dinner with my family and I no longer have any clothes that fit since I have lost at least 25 pounds since I had you.  We also stopped at two hardware stores to find the right sized Dremel bit for making signs.  I’m determined to make your signs perfect.  Your daddy found his favorite southern soda, big Red.  We even stopped for ice cream before heading to Speare.

When we finally got home, we found out that 23 people donated to Speare’s Labor & Delivery Department in your memory.  It’s amazing to see how much you affected people and also oddly relieving to know that your passing can help other families somehow.  If we can’t have you, at least we can help someone else.

I practiced writing your name with the Dremel and have moderately improved.  I didn’t have a ton of time because I took the 13 foot Whaler out while you Daddy practiced rowing in a single for the first time.  He looked great, he didn’t flip, and his smile melted my sad heart.  I bet you would have had a smile just like him.

Lisa made Shepherd’s Pie tonight.  It’s such an amazing comfort food and I really needed it after such a (comparatively) busy day.  As I finish with the day’s distractions and get tired, my mind wanders to “what-ifs” and anger, and fixates on losing you.  I’m supposed to be almost 34 weeks pregnant with you rolling around in my belly.  I’m supposed to be finishing your nursery.  Daddy and I are supposed to be waiting for you and looking forward to meeting you.  Instead, we are heartbroken and missing you.  An actual piece of me is gone.  I actually slapped myself earlier to make sure I wouldn’t wake up and realize this was all a terrible dream.  I’m trying to tell that I miss you, I love you, and that I would do ANYTHING to have you back where you belong.

Love you to the moon and back,

Mommy

Day 10

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July 26, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

I cannot believe you were born 10 days ago.  It simultaneously feels like a lifetime ago and the blink of an eye.  I’ve already told you how I wish time would stop.  Part of me is just scared that people will forget about how important you are or that they will fail to understand that it still hurts so badly.  Your Daddy and I will never forget you and will never forget how important you are to us.  You made us parents and you are our son.

I left the house today by choice (not for a doctor).  Daddy and I went to the Squam Marketplace in Holderness.  I was trying to be strong for you and I did alright at first.   I picked some wine and browsed a bit while Daddy ordered our sandwiches.  I had forgotten that the store sold onesies that matched our T-shirts (yes – we accidentally wore matching T-shirts from where we got lunch).  I avoided that section but got upset when I remembered.  Then I realized there were little boys all over the shop and got too upset to stay.  Jealousy is not cute, but I was sad and angry that we would never get to be those families.  Your daddy comforted me (as always) and took me home.

I did my best to keep busy.  I learned two more of the stitches I need for our rainbow embroidery.  French knots are SO hard for me, but I will keep practicing.  I also started practicing with the Dremel!  My first “I” was pretty rough.  Things seemed to improve when I tried cursive.  I wish I had better handwriting.  I will probably make at least twenty signs before I start to think they are good enough.  I had been feeling this sense of urgency on these projects, but am realizing it is better to really practice and make them as nice as you deserve.

I just hope wherever you are you can feel how much I love and miss you – your Daddy too.  Goodnight, sweet baby.

Love you the most,

Mommy

P.S. Daddy and I looked at the stars for a bit tonight.  We know you’re out there.

Day 9

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July 25, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Today your Grandma and Grandpa brought you home to us.  For obvious reasons, it was really hard.  Your Grandma went to pass you to me in your alarmingly tiny red velvet bag and I froze.  Fortunately, you have the strongest Daddy in the world and he stepped in.  We took you to our NH temporary home (The Bunk House) and looked at the pictures from our brief time together.  I hugged your tiny hat and held your baby hospital bracelet.  Daddy and I had a good solid cry and tucked you in for now.

Your Grandpa brought me back a Dremel to use to make some “Isaac” signs.  He’s an incredibly generous man.  When I was maybe 13 years old (maybe 11?), my parents sent me to an overnight camp.  The camp was primarily for sports.  While I got significantly more athletic as an adult, I was an asthmatic wimp back then (some would joke that I still am).  I hated camp but for one activity.  In the woodshop, we would use a router to carve wooden signs.  When I came home, I insisted on making them for al of the New Hampshire houses and more.  Hopefully eighteen years or so later I can still figure it out.

I also started practicing embroidery to make the project I had once planned for your nursery. It will say, “When it rains look for rainbows.  When it’s dark look for stars.”  I’m hoping these words I meant to encourage you as you grew will both remind me of you and remind me to find positives in the darkest of times such as these. I’m an amateur at best, but hope I can make something as good as you deserve.

IMG_2137

Your Daddy and Grandpa went rowing in the double today.  Your Grandpa is one of the top rowers in his age group, in the world, and it turns out your Daddy is a natural.  You should have seen them flying across the cover.  I wish they could have taught you.  I know you would have been tall and a natural as well.  Your Daddy is such an athlete.  He runs fast, he hikes fast and now he rows fast.  He’s just so good at everything he puts his mind to.  He’s the coolest daddy around and I so wish I could have seen you together.  I bet he’s dreaming of you right this very moment.  I love you more than anyone else ever could, but your Daddy is the closest second.  Goodnight, my sweet boy.

Love you forever,

Mommy

Day 8

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July 24, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Tomorrow, we get a piece of you back . . . a physical piece that is.  On the one hand, this is not at all what I want.  I want to hold you in my arms.  I want to cuddle you.  I want to sing to you, to feed you and change your diapers.  I want to know what color your eyes would have been.  I want to watch you flourish and become the amazing son and man that I know you would have been.  On the other hand, I know that is not possible, and a small physical piece of you is better than nothing at all.

Mommy had a hard day of missing you, Isaac.  I keep waiting for someone to wake me up from this twisted nightmare.  This was never how it was supposed to be.  If Mommy and Daddy’s love alone had been all you needed, you would have lived forever.

I’m sorry to be such a downer – I did, after all, promise lighter and happier things.  We made “progress” today.  Daddy convinced Mommy to get in Big Brown again.  You see, we went out on a lunch and ice cream adventure to Squam Marketplace in Big Brown the day before we lost you.  The idea of going without you terrified me.  I decided I just had to push through the sadness and go for it, or risk never getting in that beautiful boat again.  Daddy and I sat in the way back.  Sure – I bawled the first few minutes (I miss my baby), but slowly I let Daddy, the beautiful day and the gorgeous lake remind me that life (as terrible as it may seem at times) is still something to cherish.  You aren’t here to enjoy things like boat rides; so I have to appreciate them for the both of us.  I am choosing to live and enjoy my life, and be a better person while doing so, because you deserve it.

Also, your Daddy was amazing.  He comforted me and sheltered me from the cold spraying water.  We even had a date (of sorts) tonight.  We watched a cheesy movie (Terminator), ate Meatloaf and had some wine.  I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love him.

The rest of the family went out.  We considered going, but Daddy decided I am not ready and he is almost always right.  If I am overwhelmed by the family dinner table, how will I feel in public?  Right now? Raw, exposed and vulnerable.  Plus the idea of pants or other clothing makes me way too uncomfortable.  Besides, the alone time with Daddy was much needed.  Did I mention I’ll love him?  I’ll have to start telling you stories about our nearly 6 years together.  If someone had told us 6 years ago where we would be today, we would not have believed it, but despite the pain I would do it all over again for the time we had with you.

Love you always,

Mommy

Day 5

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July 21, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

A week ago today I felt you wiggle around inside me for the last time.  Of course I woke up bright and early wishing for a do-over where I realized you were trying to tell me something was wrong.  It seems so obvious in retrospect.  While part of me realizes I am not a doctor and that I could not have known, another can’t believe that of all the people in the world, your overly cautious mother missed such a major problem.  No matter whose fault it is, or even if it’s no one’s fault, I am so terribly sorry.

Physically, mommy is starting to feel better.  I find myself missing the pain that made me feel closer to you (you perfect little munchkin).  I know that’s weird, but I don’t care.  I will never be over losing you and signs of life returning to a new normal terrify me.  I know you would want me to be happy, so I promise to try.

Your G.G. (great grandma) and Great Aunt Sisa arrived last night.  It was relieving to tell your birth story (traumatic as it was for us) to someone who loved you so much and was not here for it.  Lisa made salmon pasta for us.  Isaac, some day you were going to love that stuff as much as Mommy and Daddy.  I wasn’t quite ready for a post-dinner boat ride.  My last ride was with you and I just wasn’t ready to go without you.  I’ll never be “ready” but I may try tomorrow.

Speaking of boats, my parents and I talked about naming the forthcoming boat for you again.  It’s so great.  It’s going to be the nicest wooden boat on Squam Lake. You’re going to love it.

Love forever and always,

Mommy