I just went on my health insurance webpage to look at a claim / remind myself of how much more we owe and all the claims for "BG Hall" are no longer available because "of the amount of time passed."

Its stupid but it made me sad.

I guess it is only fresh in my mind.

Random thoughts

The other day, I was driving down the road on my way to work and I thought... something.
And then I thought, well that was random. But rather profound.... I shall post it on my blog.
But I forgot what that thought was.

Peter cleaned the house for me today. Round of applause to my awesome husband. I left pleading that maybe a few dishes would be done. So when I got home and everything but the laundry was done... oh happy sigh of relief.
One of my servers has been coming in sick for a week... coughing all over the place, whining about how sick she is, not doing her job very well, etc. I have contracted said cold. A good portion of my staff has contracted said cold. Tonight there was me, four servers, a busser, and three cooks. me, two of the servers, and the busser were sick. And the shift still went better than the last one I worked with said server... significantly better.
In the last week, I've had offers for surrogacy and kidnapping in my favor. Flattering and awkward all at the same time.
Hopefully, I will have a finished project post soon. I've been working on what has become a doosy of a project. But I think I should be done soon.
But I guess this babbling is not what is really weighing on my mind. What is weighing tonight is just another conversation of how other people react to hearing you've suffered the horrors of infant loss.

Sunday was another big... milestone for me and this monkey on my back called grief. After over a month of avoiding talking to two specific sets of regulars that knew I was pregnant, I was tricked into chatting with one of the couples. I say tricked because their adorable baby started blowing kisses at me and who can resist playing with a cute that is baby blowing kisses. After a couple moments, the woman says, "OH! did you have a boy or a girl?" Cue Lia's awkwardness. "Um... It was a girl..."
I return to playing with aforementioned adorable child. Then the man says, "So how old is your little girl now?"
Heavy sigh with a realization that they have no idea what has happened. "She would have been three months old this last week." I don't let them stutter for too long on "would have been" before explaining that I ended up pre-eclamptic and delivered at 25 weeks so she was only with us for 36 hours.

I realized long ago that I am fine talking to people about this who know the end of the story. The people who heard about Carter via phone, email, facebook, whatever. I can handle chatting amicably about my child in the past tense. I hate that I can do that. But I can. But I still can't explain it all to people who don't know the end result.
And this is why: To explain the turn of events that created this whole mess is a fairly personal story involving doctors and science and the most extreme emotions I have ever encountered in my short life.

So, a person who knows nothing about me except my name, where I work and that they saw me pregnant, didn't see me for a while and now sees me NOT pregnant asks, "How is the baby?" They aren't asking for TLC's baby story. They want to make amicable small talk parent to parent about how magical and wonderful and tremendous being a new parent is. They want to hear about her milestones, her first smile, whether she is sleeping through the night. You ask about people's kids to see them light up, talk excitedly, etc.
Not to see them turn ashen gray, their expressions fall as they explain a series of events that most wouldn't feel comfortable about explaining to their closest friends. Oh, my baby? She died. But, since I was supposed to be pregnant until a week ago and she would have been three months old last week, we knew it was going to be a difficult road. Oh yep... premature labor... yep... well, yes, it was a very complicated pregnancy. Nope, not sure we will be trying again, let alone be successful. Oh yes, you experienced the NICU too. Yes, amazing what science can do... but sometimes its just not enough.

And suddenly a near stranger who was just casually asking how your child was, the same way we ask people "how are you?" at the beginning of a conversation has a peek through a dark cloudy window into what your world is. The conversation goes from happy parent to parent babbling to the awkward, "We're so sorry for your loss."
But here is the truly important part of this whole thing... We can talk about this horrible thing that has occurred. In fact, many "lessons on dealing with other people's grief" (for lack of a better terminology) tell you about how you shouldn't avoid mentioning names, or dates or memories. And I agree. The thought behind this is that, I never stop thinking about it, so mentioning it, is not going to suddenly remind me and make me sad. This is why I can chat with people who know the ending.
Why can't I chat with people who don't know the ending? Well, its simple. At the end of me telling you this horrible tragedy in my life, you will be left stuttering over your pizza. You will feel like a jerk for bringing up the subject. You will have no better words than "I'm so sorry." You will suddenly know more about me than you ever imagined to. You will regret the casual conversation that turned awkward because neither of us could get past, "Oh my baby died," "Oh, I'm sorry."
And me?

I will feel exactly the same.

another fabulous feat of self control

I should be sleeping right now. I have to get up for work in 5ish hours. But I need to write this. I need to get it out into the world and should I be deemed crazy then so be it.

A good place to start is a couple days ago. After becoming stressed out by my doctor and trying to keep myself together (pretty unsuccessfully actually), I ended up on the phone with my dear friend who has lived through baby loss... and infertility... and dumb reproductive organs... and surgeries. And, because I was having a hard day, the conversation turned the way it always does on a hard day: injustice. The mood was lightened by our casual joking about bringing an empty box to planned parenthood... with a sign that said, "Place baby here." Leaving post-it notes under the "safe haven" signs (in Colorado, many fire stations and hospitals are "newborn safe havens" you can abandon your newborn there without fear of prosecution.) that said, "if leaving a baby here, please call Lia at... Someone will arrive within ten minutes to collect your child." Its a funny sick twisted sad joke. Its some way to lighten the mood... but yes, infant loss does have you considering these things as your best options for future parenting.

So... today... as narrated to facebook, I "put on my big girl panties and went to pick up Carter's birth certificate."

I regret going. I will never go back. (Well, I guess I will someday have to go back for this next child we dream of having) Its as horrible a place as a name like "Vital Records Office" suggests.
The Colorado Springs Vital Records office is a tiny little place, about the size of most people's closets. The employees sit behind glass windows and take payment to print things onto fancy paper. I had two issues to resolve. One, I decided to purchase (yes, my childless friends, you must PURCHASE the birth certificate.) the birth certificate. Its not something I feel I need or want now, but might as well get it while the information on HOW to get it is fresh in case I need or want it later. Two, when we signed the death certificate, we did not know Carter's social security number so it was listed as unknown. (Seems like a waste for a child who lived 36 hours to have a social security number, but that was certainly not our hope as we happily filled out the birth certificate form in the hospital and checked, "Yes, I would like my child to be issued a social security number."
So, its been three months and Carter's social security number is just sitting unused and open, waiting for some predator to steal... I guess. And maybe, we would be financially liable for that. I don't even know. I just figure, the number should be declared to a deceased person since it is assigned to one.

So I fill out the necessary forms. I have the necessary cash. I walk into the office confidently. A cute Asian couple stand waiting with their tiny tiny baby in the infant carrier at their feet. I am standing waiting for someone to acknowledge me when another guy comes in, with his necessary forms.
I am acknowledged and step up to the window (it was a half step really, I'm not kidding or exagerating when I say closet sized office). Two more women with older babies walk in the office and grab forms from beside me. I say in a slighter louder voice than necessary: "Hi. I need to pick up the birth and death certificate for my daughter."
Well, at least with a statement like that, I won't have to make small talk with the moms. I explain what I need. The employee says she will have to look at the death certificate... if it doesn't have the number on it (I know it doesn't...) she will give me the form I need to send to the state to get it edited. Please allow her a couple minutes to do this.
I half step back to the wall. Another lady assists the man, who is ordering his own birth certificate and then begins helping the two women.
And in the short little while I wait for an answer on the social security number debacle, three things happen in quick succession.
The funeral director for the home that cremated Carter comes in. I duck my head. I would hate to find out he recognizes me. The woman being helped at the counter is informed (rather loudly, or the sound carries) that if there is "no father for the record" she needs to write "UNLISTED" in that section of the form. And then a woman and her nearly toddler little boy walks in. She is clearly frustrated, kid is tired and just wants to toddle around the building. She prevents him. He tried to go around. She stops him. He starts crying. She picks him up, starts adminishing him to stop it. And then, just as she tries to put him down, he goes into full on tantrum and lands on the hard office floor quite abruptly.
He is screaming bloody murder....
She is yelling at him about how sick of him she is, how stupid he is being, etc.

And then there is me. Standing quietly in the corner. Thinking a million thoughts a minute. Number one, take the kid and walk out. Number two, he screaming like a banshee, probably bites... and there is that whole kidnapping thing. Number three, no... be compassionate. She probably has had a bad day and is at the end of her rope. Number four, raise your hand and interrupt. I so wanted to pull the dead baby card.
To loudly admonish her for her bad attitude with, "Uh hi... My name is Lia and I am here today to get both my child's birth and death certificate. My daughter that I loved and adored and wanted nothing more than to be with for.... we'll just say... a while: is dead. So if you could just chill out and pretend to be a half decent parent for... oh, say the next five minutes I am in the office. I. Would. Really. Appreciate. It. K. Thanks."

But I didn't. I just continued to stand in the corner. Sobbing.

And then I had the birth certificate and the necessary forms to be sent to the state in hand and I got to leave. And I got out the door of the office, and cried. And I got into my car. And cried.

And I went home, and put my happy face back on and went about my day.

If only there were a flashing sign above me that said, "Please avoid being an inept parent around me. Thanks."

something profound

...Not really.

I just feel like I should write even though I do not know what to say. Today was a productive day. I got a TON done. With it being my first day off in seven, I had quite a list of things I would like to accomplish... and I was definitely over committing by expecting myself to finish before Pete got home from work so we could do something fun.
But I still got stuff done so that was great. And as I was thinking about taking a break and I had gotten enough done when Pete called to say he was going to be working a little late and didn't know when he would be home. I powered back up and got a little more done.
Then Peter came home with GREAT news! His company... which has been in hiatus since May 1 finally got all of their re-licensing crap together and they are back in business. Better news, Pete is the FIRST guy they called. He went and got his license and is working tonight. So we did all the running around necessary to get him ready for work tonight.
That involved him needing a pair of khaki cargo pants. I ran out just 40 minutes before he needed to leave for work. And I discovered while nearly running through target... and then walmart when target didn't have anything, that Men's clothing appears to be across the aisle of the baby stuff. In general. Here I am in a rush to find some flipping cargo pants and a little baby swimsuit has me nearly hyperventilating. I left target in a huff. I talked myself into walmart with the fact that their baby stuff wouldn't be in such an obvious place, I would be able to get through the men's section without running into it. But alas, I walked past the aisle I found the khakis in, now trying to find socks and the very next aisle was formula. REALLY???
So perhaps it just so happens that I was only having a good day because I was alone. I didn't have people, babies, baby crap, any of that nonsense around.

Who cares why it was a good day. It was my first day off in a week and after Sunday being my original due date, Monday being three months since Carter's birth, Tuesday being my appointment to discuss likelihood of future children, and today being three months since Carter's death.
I deserved a good day. And I made one.

the best part of waking up...

well, today it would be going back to bed.

After an excruciatingly long close last night, I had to set an alarm for an early appointment. Doctor's appointment.
There we discussed chemical menopause, major abdominal surgery (yeah, another one), the recovery time and then the abysmal chance of being pregnant again.
While discussing this process he said, "You could always just try and get pregnant again and we could all hope that it goes better this time." I must of looked at him like he was an idiot because he quickly stuttered, "and that works in some situations. But I think in your case with the amount and size of your fibroids, that would be a poor choice."
I replied, "Yeah, I'd like to not almost die again. And if I could get an alive child out of it, that would be choice."
So we talk about the extensive process... He explains depro-lupron... a drug that chemically induces menopause while you are on it. There is a possibility that while on it, the fibroids may shrink making the surgery easier and more likely to be successful. But you experience all the wonderful symptoms of menopause. Hot flashes, emotional bleck, etc etc. Another profound statement from the doc, "Yeah, you will feel really crappy. But there is a prescription we can write you for that."
"Gee doc, lets just throw me back on Magnesium, because that was so much fun... I totally want to feel like that for six months!"

So there you have it. How did I get so lucky.... to be researching how it will feel to be menopausal at age 25? to be kissing my child's urn instead of her? to be torn between wanting another so I'm not the weird lady who only has a dead kid... and not wanting another because it will never be her?

Sigh... but I guess this is just another day. This is just our new normal.