A New Semester

It's that time. The spring semester has begun. By some miracle, I was able to once again get into all of the classes I need. I am taking my last 3 prerequisite courses this semester and that means I'll be able to apply for the sonography program this month. Unfortunately, rumor has it that those who have completed all of the prerequisites get priority over those who are still working on them. But, I still get to apply which at least gives me a chance at one of the slots for this year's program.

Though my schedule is pretty intense, it's worth the time and work just to finish my prerequisites and to have a chance at getting into the sonography program this summer. If I don't get accepted this year, I'll have to wait a whole year to apply again which is a pretty substantial delay. So, I'm grateful that I can at least apply and try to get in.

Honestly, I have no idea how good or poor my odds are. I have good grades and the application is G.P.A. based with 4.0 students getting first priority, followed by 3.8 and so on. I have all A's except for one B in English which I took at U.S.C. (Let this be a lesson to those of you who are in school that grades do matter.) So far, everything has fallen into place and I can't help but feel like I am meant to be in this year's program. However, I know that there is no guarantee and that things don't always go according to plan. At this point, all I can do is try and hope for the best.

Please keep your fingers crossed for me!

Starting Over

It's hard to admit this to myself, but there are days when I really wish I could start over. I wish I could rewind my life and go back to January 2012. That's when the first domino toppled over: Gabriel's conception. That's when all of this was first put into motion. That's when everything changed far beyond my control, when my life slowly started to fall apart.

I wish I could get a re-do on the last two years of my life. I wish I could have one chance to take back one choice. Because I am constantly wondering what my life would be like now if I had done one thing differently. Could one choice made differently have had the power to change my fate?

This time, two years ago, I remember wanting a baby so badly. I was so anxious to get pregnant. I was naively planning to have three children and I wanted to get started before I turned 30.

Now, I wonder what could have been if I had been more patient. If we had conceived one month later, would that have made all the difference in the world? Would that baby be a happy, healthy 15 month old squirming in my arms while I blog about cloth diapers instead of stillbirth?

I think I will always question what could have been if I had been patient and waited a couple months... if those two months could have spared me the suffering I've endured over the past two years.

It's heartbreaking and frustrating to know that I am exactly where I was then. Two years ago I was sitting here wishing for a baby, scouring the internet for fertility tips, trying with all my being to make my greatest wish come true. It's been two years and no progress has been made on the baby front. Nothing has been given in exchange for 24 agonizing months of loss and disappointment and failures and hopelessness and tears. I have nothing to show for years of trying relentlessly to have a family.

I want to scream at the universe. What else do I have to do?! Why can't this just be easier?! Over the past two years, I have had to watch every single person I know have healthy babies while I am STILL waiting for mine!! This is not fair!! This is not right!!

I look back over the last 24 months and I see so many tears, so many lost moments, so many empty days. I see my heart breaking over and over again, my faith dwindling, my hope fading, my dreams melting as my ovaries just continue to age and age.

It's becoming harder and harder to imagine what could have been. It's almost impossible to imagine my life turning out how I thought it would. I feel like over the past two years I've drifted further and further away from that life. I can barely remember what it felt like to dream of a future, to make plans, to have the luxury of choosing to have children. I often wonder if the universe actually laughed at my 3-children-before-35-plan.

Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that time when my dreams had no boundaries just to remember for a moment what it felt like to have endless possibilities in front of me. That blissful time before I knew the risks of embarking on a new journey. Before I knew just what the road to motherhood had in store for me.

I think of everything I've been through on this journey, and I can't help but wish it had been different. I wish it had been easier... a lot easier. I wish I had been given a different baby, a healthy one that I could have kept.

But then my heart sinks knowing what I would have to sacrifice. And I realize that even if I could start over, I could never choose another path. I could never knock down a different domino. As hard as this life is, I could never give up the two babies I carried, the two babies who I love with all my heart, the two babies who aren't here but who I think about every single moment of every single day. Because even though I wish things were different, I don't wish for a life without them.

Even with the enormous pile of hardships that weighs heavily on my soul, this is the only life I have with them in it. This road is the only one that could have led me to both of my precious children. Whatever choice I made two years ago that has landed me here, I know in my heart that I could never choose differently.

Because they're my babies. And I'm their mother.

And that's the one thing that I would never want to change.

I Will Always Wonder

Was it my fault?

Was it something I ate?

Something I did?

Something I failed to do?

Is it because I didn't take my vitamins everyday?

Or because I waited too long to start taking baby aspirin?

Should I have demanded more blood work and prenatal testing?

Should I have gone to a different doctor?

If I had, would it have even mattered?

Was it that I complained about having morning sickness?

Or that I breathed a tiny sigh of relief after the first ultrasound?

Could I have done something, anything, to have prevented this loss?

If I had made a different choice at some point, would it have made all the difference?

Could her death have been prevented?

Could I have prevented it?

Did my body fail to keep her safe?

Or was she just too fragile to survive?

What happened?

Why her?

Why me?

Why us?

Why?

Dear 2014

I'll be honest... I'm not at all excited about you. It's not your fault. In 2013, I lost Poppy. In 2012, I lost Gabriel. And so it's not surprising that I've been conditioned to associate a new year with a new loss.

I'm sorry to say that I don't feel hopeful that you'll be a better year. I don't have much faith in the future. I don't believe you will be my year. I don't know how to wish for the best anymore, because clearly all the hoping and praying in the world hasn't been working.

Mostly, I'm worried that you will be yet another year plagued with loss and defined by grief. Though I know that inevitably there will be many moments of joy and love and growth and goodness scattered throughout you, I fear that ultimately you will be another year of disappointment and that loss will once again overshadow all the good times.

Your predecessor, 2013, let me down in so many ways. (Again, not your fault.) That entire year was a struggle that drained me of my last remaining drops of faith and hope. I honestly don't know if I have what it takes to make it through another year of failure, spirit-crushing disappointment, and babyloss.

I'm not expecting (or even asking) for anything extraordinarily amazing out of you. I don't need you to be the year I win the Powerball jackpot, or the year I meet Oprah, or the year I run a marathon.

I just need you to be the year that restores some of the hope I have lost. I want to be able to dream again, to imagine a future that isn't scary or empty or completely uncertain. I want to be able to enjoy our time together, not live in fear of what you may bring.

So, please don't be like last year and the year before that.

And, please don't be another year of sub-fertility/pregnancy loss/death/childlessness/bad news, etc...

Because more than anything, I really need for you to be the year that I don't lose any of my children.

Good-Bye 2013

Once again we've reached the eve of a new year... another year is coming to a close and leaving us with nothing but memories.

I wish I could look back on this year and see nothing but joy and feel perfectly at peace with its end.

Instead, 2013 will always be a year that ended with despair and emptiness. I wish I didn't feel this way, but I can't help but feel saddened and disappointed. I wanted so badly for this year to be one of redemption.

I remember at the start of this year that there was so much I wanted to do. So many goals were set that weren't reached. So many dreams were dreamed that weren't realized. So many wishes were made that weren't granted.

I guess ultimately I feel both relieved and reluctant to leave 2013 behind. Part of me is ready to move on, to leave this year in the past and cross my fingers that things are better in 2014. But part of me is desperate for more 2013, a little more time to try to recover what was lost. I feel cheated out of time with Poppy and the chance to have a rainbow baby.

Now time is up for 2013. And I'll never have another year with Poppy. And I'll never have the opportunity to have a baby in 2013. And I'll never again be able to end this year with a gain instead of a loss.

Nevertheless, it's time to say good-bye to 2013. I may not be completely ready for it to end, but at least this is one ending that is immediately followed by a new beginning.

~Last sunset of 2013~

Celebrating Today

Last Christmas, I think I honestly believed that I would have a baby in my arms today. At some point this year, I realized that having a baby in time for Christmas would be impossible and I held out hope that I would at least be pregnant. Eventually I gave up even that hope and I figured I would just experience another childless Christmas. And then the greatest thing happened. I got pregnant in October. I counted the weeks until Christmas and it seemed like the perfect day to tell everyone about Baby #2. I never thought that I would lose the baby before Christmas and end up doubly childless. I really didn't think it was possible to have an even emptier Christmas than the one following Gabriel's death last year.

So today I'm sad because I miss Gabriel and Poppy. And I'm sad because this isn't the Christmas I wanted. And I'm sad because I feel so extremely cheated out of everything that this day could have (should have) been.

But I also realize that today is not about me or what I want or the plans I made or the dreams I once had or all that I've lost. It's about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ by showing kindness and love to others. It's about generosity and spreading joy and holiday traditions. It's about celebrating with family around a tree of lights. It's about embracing your life exactly as it is and being hopeful that the future will bring many more blessings.

So even though there is so much I wish I could change about today, I feel truly grateful for everything that I would never change. I am grateful to have had my children at all and I'm grateful for dear friends who will remember them with me today. I am grateful that I can help others who are also missing their children today. I am grateful for my loving family and to have somewhere I belong on Christmas Day. I am grateful for the Christmas dinner I'll share with them tonight. I'm grateful that I'm able to give presents to those who I love. And I'm grateful that despite all the sorrow in my heart, there is still so much joy and beauty in my life... and that is a gift worth celebrating today.