Back in the Saddle Again

Now that it’s been about two weeks, I have one main goal in my mind–to fit back into my pants.  I don’t want to wear maternity pants.  My yoga pants and regular shirts fit okay, but my nice work pants with the non-elastic waists–yeah, they’re kind of a problem.  Even my boobs have gone back to normal (yes, if you give birth at 5 months, you will still get milk in–who knew?)

So I have signed myself up for madison fitness bootcamps on my lunch hour (T and Th) and I went to the free one at Elver Park yesterday.   That’s right, you can spend your Saturday mornings running backwards up a giant hill and doing pull-ups on the kiddie playground set.  The guy who runs them, Dustin Maher, is pretty admirable.  He’s 25, running his own personal training business, and he walks the walk, that’s for sure.  (If you’re interested, you can check him out at www.dustinmaherfitness.com and madisonbootcamps.com)  Anyway, yes I am sore today.  He kicked my ass!  Which is good, because I am really terrible at the self motivation thing.

I’ve done the lunch thing before–in fact one of my coworkers told me he saw me on NBC 15, because they did a spot on Dustin Maher.  So if you saw a clip of an ex-goth girl running up a hill with weights over her head and an upper arm tat, yeah that was me–running away from the camera.

A Quiet Morning

Yesterday a got a call from the funeral home that the ashes were ready to pick up.  It’s a small urn, maybe 3 inches high.  Small.  I added them to the memory box, I keep adding things.  Boy, though the funeral home strongly reminded me of the 70s.  Dark brick walls and dark wood.  We haven’t decided if we’re going a ceremony, probably not for awhile if we do.

This morning Rowan and walked down to the coffee shop a few blocks down.  I love that there is a coffee shop right around us.  If I were independently wealthy, I would own one.  Rowan had a fruit smoothie, it’s her new thing.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, she loves both fruit and yogurt, as I do.  We went out to eat last night (Chinese) and I was worrying that I hadn’t had enough fruit.  I had only had 3 servings, unlike my usual 5 or so.  I didn’t feel very healthy.  Leif laughed as he usually has zero servings of fruit a day.

In the coffee shop, there were also artist’s exhibits.  One was photography, and one was watercolors.  The photography one was not bad, but the watercolors–I was not impressed.  I could do better, and it made me think that maybe I should do some new art.  It’s been so long.  I’ve had some ideas for new art, although I’m not sure if my drawing skills are up to par for what I envision.  So I think I might go to Michaels today.  A certain small someone commandeered my watercolor tubes a few months back, so I need a new set.  Damn parental love, I give in every time.

The Long End of a Hard Road

(Disclaimer:  For those of you who are mutual friends of both me and my husband, I would prefer if you would not comment on specific details found on my blog to him.  This blog is for me, and it invades his privacy to comment on something I’ve written.  You can of course, offer him condolences as well.)

So we lost the baby on Tuesday.  Well, at least Tuesday was the day he was born.  They started the induction on Monday when we saw there was no heartbeat.  I have read now so many stories of other couples, and often they could tell something was wrong because they couldn’t feel the baby kick, but it wasn’t like that for me.  I hadn’t felt a definite kick yet.  Maybe it was there and so subtle I didn’t notice, I don’t know.

I got to wear seaweed tampons for awhile to help dilate the cervix, and then later I got little hormone pills inserted as well.  Monday night passed relatively quickly, I had cramping but not on the scale of contractions.  I fall asleep easily, so it didn’t bother me to have nurses in every couple of hours to take my vital signs.  At 4 am they started coming harder, but then they tapered off again.

Finally, at 9:30 am or so, they started hard again.  I guess I was hoping the pain wouldn’t be too bad, but it really hurt.  It hurt just as much as it had with Rowan.  They gave me a little button I could push every 10 minutes, and I counted down those minutes every time until I could push it again.

But he was so small at the end, it only took one push.  Leif was the first one to hold him, even before they cleaned him up.   I was sadly, still a bit out of it from the medication.   We had the the chaplain baptize him in the room.  We named him Bram Thomas.  He was 12.2 oz (344 grams for you metric people) and 10.5 inches long.  Bram is Gaelic for bramble or a thicket–it is also associated with the raven.  Thomas is actually a Dr. Who reference, though you would probably have to have seen them all multiple times like I have to track down that character.  And we are talking old-school Who here, not this David Tennant guy.  (Acutally, I do love Tennant)

Words cannot express the kindness of the hospital staff there.  They were so amazing, so compassionate.  And it’s weird to think they deal with this all the time.  Our hospital has 3 floors of maternity wards on the North Wing–when we got to our floor, I asked the nurse if this was the “special” floor.  She said yes, and that all the nurses who work there choose to do so.  (I also noticed what appeared to be a high incidence of lesbian/hippie/and other empowered women working that floor–it was awesome)  Occasionally during our stay I would hear a baby cry in one of the other rooms, and I wondered if those were the cases where the baby only lives a day or two.  I felt so bad for those parents, to get to nine months and go through all that for a few brief hours of life.

By late Tuesday evening, I wanted to see Rowan so badly, but when we went to pick her up, she was just having a blast and didn’t want go home.  That night, I missed the hospital so much, people checking up on me and so caring and compassionate to me, a total stranger that they knew nothing about.  I tried to write down as many names as I could so I can write and thank them later.  They gave us a memory box, took footprints and handprints, there is even a photographer that comes in and takes professional pictures for free.  Everywhere I go, I am surrounded by the generosity of strangers.

We wrapped him in one of Rowan’s blankies to be cremated in.  In some of the literature we received, it said some parents choose to put the ashes in a locket.  I guess it’s such a small body, once you take the water out, there’s hardly anything there.

I am personally glad Rowan is so young and doesn’t really understand.  A couple of weeks ago, when we knew what we were facing, we told her that she may not get a baby brother.  She said, “That’s okay.  We can try for a baby sister next time.”  Yeah, good luck kid.  I feel that if we have another, it would be a boy.  Last night when we told her for sure there was no baby, she looked at us with a strange expression.  I asked her, “Are you sad?  It’s okay to be sad, we are a little bit sad.”  And she rolled her eyes at us as only a 4 year old can and said, “No, I’m not sad.  I was just worried.”  I think she meant she was worried about us, which is really sweet.  Then she went back to cutting out princesses.

My days are okay.  I usually have one weepy period a day, and then I’m calmer.  Wednesday morning was bad, but the afternoon was fine.  Last night was bad, this morning I’m weepy too.  It comes and goes.  Other peoples’ babies do not bother me.  I went and saw Stacy Wednesday (she’s at home on maternity leave) and it’s fine.  I don’t want anyone else to have my experience, and I don’t begrudge her that it went well.   Her boy, Barret, is doing well and I held him for awhile.  He was so big compared to Bram.  I’m glad he will have a good life.

Better Now

So my mom called again tonight.  I think she felt bad.  It was awkward at first, but it got better as we kept talking and THANK GOD she did not even try to put my father on the line.  I should try better to not let them under my skin.  It demeans me when I vent so.

And I have been very fortunate to have such good people in my life.  I’ve been having a lot of heavy thoughts lately and though I haven’t wanted to talk a lot about it, the few people I have confided in have been very supportive.  I am truly blessed/lucky whatever you want to call it.

I talked to my friend Theresa today, and it was completely what I needed.  Such a breath of fresh air, and here is some advice I’m going to keep:

“What other people think of you is frankly, none of your business.”  Ah, it just makes me laugh.

And on a completely different note, here are some words of advice from Rowan:

“Andrew was picking his nose so much that he had blood coming out of his nose.  So don’t pick your nose too much, or there will be blood.”

Sage advice.