7w1d

I'm home! Hurray! I got home last night after a rather uneventful flight that I almost enjoyed! Flying isn't so bad as long as you are pretty sure you won't crash. I prayed the Hail Mary repeatedly during take-off, but after that, I was okay. My sisters went home two days before me, but they didn't tell me until after I'd landed safely that their flight was really bad. After being delayed almost two hours, the plane caught fire approximately ten minutes after take-off. Except no one could find the fire. Everyone started smelling smoke, the pilot had fire alarms going off in the cockpit, but no one could actually locate the fire. Unsettling to say the least. Then they circled the airport for a while before sitting on the tarmac for forty minutes before getting to the gate. Their flight was the exact same flight as mine (same flight number, same schedule) and I landed, drove home, went out for dinner, and was in my pajamas before they even got in the car. M surprised me at baggage claim with flowers and took me out for IHOP, which I'd been craving since I got to San Fran. I found one there, but it was not as good and gave me a stomachache. I think he was a little deflated that I wasn't jumping up and down, but it was weird to see his face after two weeks, and my head was already spinning with the excitement of being home.

But I'm home! My cats are being nice to me again. The mommy cat has never really liked me (the only time she really loved me was when she was birthing the baby kitties) and mostly growled at me and gave me THE LOOK (thanks Steph for the phrase) which is the equivalent of 'the death stare' all night. This morning she's warmed up to me again and is tolerating my presence.

Beulah seems to be doing well enough. This is such a rough time. All I have to go on is that my pants don't fit well and I'm nauseated if I don't eat every few hours. I'm excited for my ultrasound on Wednesday. I just want to see a heartbeat and wiggly baby.

From the Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss Blog Directory, a few thought provoking questions:

1. What do you want people to know about the child (or children) you have lost?
That they existed and were real. That I love them so much I'd have died in their places. I want people to know that Gregory looked just like his father, with a tiny bit of my family mixed in. I want them to know that he was the greatest gift God has ever given me.

2. What names did you give (or plan to give) your children and why?
My first baby was an early miscarriage, we named that baby Nicky, after a little girl I knew who passed away when she was ten years old. She was such a lovely girl - pretty, spunky, and loving. She was a great big sister, and her birthday was around the time I miscarried, and I knew Nicky would watch over my little baby in heaven. We named our son Gregory Ian. Gregory was a boy's name we both thought was wonderful, and Ian was after M's friend's brother, who died as a result of an accident in his teen years. We'd planned on naming him that long before he died, and we felt it important to give him the same name we'd planned on giving him had he lived.

3. What rituals or ways of memorializing your children seem to best help you cope with their loss?
We visit G's grave on his birthday, the day he was buried, holidays, and whenever we miss him. We have one of the teddy bears that we bought for him (we buried him with the identical mini-bear rattle we bought the same day) and I hug it whenever I really miss him. His due date (which was Thursday) is a tough day for me (not so much for M) so I think of him often. We went to the cemetery last year on his due date, but this year I was away, so I couldn't. I will probably go tomorrow.

4. What are the kindest and/or most helpful things people have said to you? What are the worst?
People have been very kind. Some friends took us out for dinner and brought me my favorite brownies. Friends have listened to me vent, held my hand while I sobbed, and just let me be in a shitty mood when I needed to be. A few of my friends have seen the pictures of G and don't act horrified, even though it's a natural reaction for some of them. My sisters have taken amazing care of me. I cut my maternity leave in half last summer but worked from home about a month after he died - but my sisters came and babysat me almost everyday, allowing me to grieve when I needed to and offering a welcome distraction when I needed one. It was two months of daily day time slumber parties in my house last summer! Some of the worst things came from people who were trying to help. "It's better that he died, we wouldn't want a disabled baby in the family." Wow. I'll gladly take whatever kind of baby God wants to give me, thankyouverymuch. I don't care if he has two heads and five arms. There was also comments about returning baby gifts for cash. Wow. I know people were trying to help, which is why I don't hate these people today. I learned quickly to greet people by saying "Thank you so much for being here for me. It means so much to me. It's okay that you don't know what to say, most of the time, I don't know what to say. Just being here to listen to me and give me a shoulder to cry on is so wonderful."

5. Who is your hero? Who helps you make it through the dark days better than anyone else on the planet?
I have a few heroes. Most of them are women I've met online through message boards and blogs, who offer me hope of getting through the really rough days. My mom, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother are also big role models for me. My mom has lived through a lot of stuff, and the fact that she came out only a little bit crazier (lol) because of it all reminds me that I come from a long line of strong women. My grandmother has been through hell - my mother's sister is mentally retarded. The choices my grandmother has had to make require a very strong mind and a lot of faith in God. The fact that she hasn't gone off the deep end reminds me that I can keep going. And while I didn't know GiGi for long (my great grandmother passed away while I was young), I know that she lost her oldest child Elizabeth when she was 13 months old. She went on to have five other children. She reminds me that there can be so much joy after so much agony.

6. Is there anything you need to say or want to say but haven't been able to? Can you say it now?
I don't know. I think I've been pretty open with my feelings in general. My mother and my sisters will listen until I'm blue in the face. M lets me talk about it whenever I want to talk, even though I think it's harder for him to share his own feelings.

7. How are you doing? How are you really doing?
I'm doing ok. I've had some trouble in the last few days being excited over this pregnancy. I feel like I'm betraying Gregory a little bit, even though I know he would want me to have other children. I almost feel like I should dedicate the rest of my life to mourning him because otherwise he'll think I've forgotten him. I feel a lot of my raw grief is gone, and I'm afraid it's because I'm 'moving on'. I don't want to move on. I want to keep him fresh in my mind and heart.