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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.

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.

Day 19

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Agust 5, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Your Daddy went back to work today.  I missed him so much even though it was not a whole day.  I did OKAY.  I woke up, I took care of Mowgli and I even took my medicine.  TI took me 4 hours, but I eventually ate my breakfast (and lunch).  I didn’t feel like doing anything, so I watched TV.  I never realized how many TV episodes have pregnancy, birth or baby loss in them.  One episode featured the birth of twins.  I thought I was fine.  I thought that if I could watch, I’d get closer to being able to go places.  When the babies gave their first cries, I totally lost it.  I knew I was missing out on cuddling you, nurturing and loving you. I didn’t realize how much it hurt that you were silent and still when you were born nearly 3 weeks ago.  I guess it didn’t hit me because I was so out of it that night.  I don’t even remember what it felt like to push.  I just remember how you felt coming out (it was nothing compared to the contractions, though).  We were robbed of that happy moment when the baby finally comes out and cries.  At least it was peaceful, I suppose.

Your grandpa reached out to CHOP to help us find the best medical care for the future.  We ended up speaking to one of their doctors. She was nice as can be.  She can’t treat me, but she can help get us the right team. She already had someone in mind for us to contact.  She basically confirmed my suspicion that you and I didn’t have sufficient medical care.  I am so sorry I did not realize it sooner.  She did, however, put some hope back in Daddy’s and my life.  She said we CAN try again.  She also suggested that trying could commence at 4 months instead of the 6-12 months we heard previously.  It would still be risky.  Now that I have had HELLP Syndrome, there is a 1 in 4 chance it will happen again and it would likely happen earlier.  BUT if it happens, they would catch it sooner.  Things didn’t have to end that way and, hopefully, they never will again.  Mommy couldn’t bear it.

I am so broken over losing you, but now I have a spot of hope on the distant horizon.  I have to get healthy, to eat well and to exercise.  It’s what I know you would want and what must happen for the sake of your future sibling.  I will still count the days and weeks from your birth, still count down the days until your due date, until we could have taken you home.  But now I can also count the days until we can try again.  To be fair, “trying again” seems wrong.  We succeeded, the first time.  We made a wonderfully beautiful miracle named Isaac.  Nothing can ever change that.

Love you to pieces,

Mommy

Day 18

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August 4, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Daddy gave me a pleasant surprise this morning.  I remember being cuddled by Daddy in the middle of the night.  It amazes me the myriad of ways you have changed me.  For years, I have despised cuddling, but now? Now, I need that closeness.  Anyway, even in my state of semi-consciousness, I was panicked about daddy returning to work.  This morning, I woke up and rolled over, crushed that I didn’t have your Daddy to ease the wave of sadness I now wake to every morning.  So I grabbed my phone and sent him a panicky face.  As it happens, your intuitive Daddy knew I wasn’t ready to be alone yet.  He had woken up and decided he needed to stay home.  I was so epically relieved.  This does, however, mean he will be gone tomorrow.

The good news is that we did check some stuff off the to-do list.  We got Mowgli’s medicine, grabbed my mini cooper’s title, got some groceries, and even stopped to get some more embroidery floss to practice with.  Afterward, we stopped by the house I grew up in.  I didn’t make the connection until now, but I grew up on East Grand Oak Lane, a street named for its big strong oak trees.  Now, we’re planting oak trees for you.  Fitting, I suppose.  It was nice to show Daddy where I grew up.  We even r grabbed Pepper Mill cheesesteaks on the way home.

This afternoon, I practiced my embroidery.  You won’t be shocked that I am using your name for practice.  I told you I would write your name everywhere, and I plan to follow through.  I am waiting for nicer fabric to arrive for some more practice.

I have faced some harsh realizations today.  So far, since losing you three weeks (not sure how that’s possible(, I’ve had this weird sense of waiting.  It’s like I have the flu.  If I rest, hydrate and wait, eventually I’ll wake up feeling better.  With time, you forget  exactly how terrible the flu felt and life returns to normal.  That’s not going to happen this time.  No amount of time can fix this.  No amount of sleep and soup can fix you being gone.  Even a smudge on the wall from Daddy smushing a scary bug hurts me now.  I was laying right here nearly 7 months pregnant, and your daddy saved the day by getting rid of a scary bug on the ceiling.  Just seeing that smudge hurts me so badly because it reminds me that I was pregnant with you.  I miss you so much, and nothing can “fix” that.  I just want you back with every fiber of my being.  I wanted to give you the world and I never got that chance.

Love you dearly,

Mommy

Day 16

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August 2, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Today Daddy and I went through the boxes that came while we were in New Hampshire.  Lots of great things came for you from people who loved you.  There was so much to love in such a tiny package.  We tucked some away for another day, but other things I had picked for your room we decided to keep out as reminders of you.  We kept and adorable bright textile from Australia.  We kept a mini globe that says “Adventure Awaits”.  I hope you are on a fantastic and dreamy adventure somewhere.

I missed you so much today.  Hardly a second went by that I didn’t think of you.  Today’s fixation was your smile.  I think I can imagine what it would have looked like.  Gosh – you were cute.  I would do anything to make you smile.  I would also do anything to hold you again one last time.  I also wish beyond anything that I had known our time together was about to end so abruptly.  I wish I could have said goodbye, or known that I needed to memorize the way your kung fu kicks felt in my belly.

Today we saw one of those things that is as close to magic as we will ever get.  It started with your Daddy convincing me to go outside with Mowgli.  Then I saw a big yellow butterfly.  No big deal – right?  But then I realized that the entire bush below was covered in perfect yellow butterflies.  I don’t know why they were there, and they were gone a few hours later, but they were so perfect in that moment.  I called your Daddy out to show him and he found a way to top the butterflies.  The trees next to our house were filled with tiny gorgeous goldfinches.  I’ve never seen anything like it – there were tiny yellow creatures flying all around us.  It had to be you.

Until that moment I felt so lost today.  Even eating felt like a chore.  It scares me.  Your Daddy has a haircut and an interview tomorrow, and I wish I could say that I will be OK tomorrow.  I just haven’t felt up to the chores of daily life.  Daddy wants your Grandma Cindy and Aunt EB to come up and keep me company and take care of me.  I don’t want them to see me so broken.  I don’t enjoy not wanting to get out of bed and not wanting to do anything.  I am embarrassed enough that your Daddy has to see me so destroyed and pathetic.   Anyways, Mommy could use an extra dose of strength from you tomorrow, baby boy.  I know that’s a bit backward.  The Mommy is supposed to be the strong one.  I promise I will be your strong Mommy again.

Love you forever,

Mommy

Day 15

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August 1, 2016

Dearest Isaac,

Grief is a funny beast.  One second I feel like I see a path forward or I pause and I think I can enjoy things, the next I fall totally to pieces.  I miss you, I obsess over you and I feel like my heart and soul have been torn out.  Being back in Pennsylvania feels like torture.  Your Daddy continues to be a champion, my hero and my rock.  I know how lucky I am to have him.  He keeps reminding me that we are a family.  It just feels so broken right now.  I have told you before, but i will tell you again – I will someday fill this journal with happy stories.  I will tell you about your Daddy, your grandparents, your aunts, and uncles.  I’ll tell you about fun things we do.  Someday, I’ll tell you about your little brothers or sisters.  For now, I will vent.  I keep feeling guilty about it, but I’ve promised to always be honest with you.  To be honest, things are still too raw to write letters with any joy.

We took Mowgli to get some much-needed grooming today.  We dropped him off and went to the grocery store.  Your mommy stinks at grocery shopping.  We did get some good frozen ingredients.  We bought a freezer to fill with meals in preparation for your arrival.  I had always wanted an extra freezer.  I said I would fill it with meals for rainy days.  I do wish I had filled it sooner.  The days sure feel rainy right now.  I will fill it eventually.

After the store, we picked up Mowgli.  He is fluffy and adorable.  As I write this, he is rolling around in our bed like a big goober.

We received some news about you today.  You were a beautiful, perfectly normal baby.  In my sadness and anxiety, I had convinced myself that something was wrong with you – that perhaps I thought you were perfect just because you were my son.  I can see how someone might get blinded by love.  The doctors, however, agreed that you were perfectly normal.  There were not infections, not a hair out of place on your adorable head.  In part, I am relieved.  Yet the guilt – however unfounded – is overwhelming.  But for my body’s failure, you would have been okay.  I’ve never wanted to change something so badly in all my life.  In fact, I can’t remember wanting something so badly in life that I could not obtain with some amount of effort.  Maybe with things I wanted previously I did not put in the effort, but I always could have.  Losing Bup Bup was similar, but despite how much I loved him, it is nothing compared to this.  There is nothing I can do to bring you back.

I hope, at least, that I can be a person, a mother, you would be proud of.

I love you,

Mommy

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