"And also in first place..."

    It was late in my generation that the concept of "every kid is a winner" really gained strength. I think I can best describe this... campaign by telling you about my life growing up in the ATA.
    I first joined the American Taekwondo Association as a second grader. I was about seven. My mom herded all three of us kids into the studio at first: my younger brother, Ben about 4 at the time, and my older brother, Josh... 14ish. We all got started, excitedly joining the ranks of the many other students at this particular taekwondo studio in our small southern California town.
   Ben only lasted a couple of weeks before the instructors and my mom decided he wasn't quite ready: lacking in coordination, and / or attention span in order to fully participate. So he was out.
   Josh and I started our Taekwondo careers together. It wasn't super eventful right away.
  So, enter Ben, about a year later. He eagerly joins classes. But, during his year of waiting to "mature" enough to participate, the ATA created a program called "tiny tigers" specially formulated for 3-6 year olds. So, he particpates, but is definitely not the youngest.
  We entered tournaments. And... we always got trophies. There was always a 1st, 2nd and 3rd place for each category of competition. But beyond that, everyone else received a 4th place trophy. (Over the years, I collected MANY of these.)
   By the time I received the rank necessary to judge in tournaments, the "tiny tigers" program had grown into quite a beast. As a young black belt of about 12... I judged in these rings most often. And... they all got "FIRST" place trophies. While it was sweet to really drive home that, "every kid is a winner" crap, it definitely felt like selling out to announce, "And in first place for best sportsmanship.... and in first place for strongest technique.... and in first place for loudest kiyapp...." And then we would set loose 14 "first place" four year olds running about whatever gym the tournament had rented.

All this nonsensical reminiscence is just to explain that... I know what it means to get an award just for the sake of getting an award. While I participated in a ton of various activities over my school years, I mostly have a ton of "participant" ribbons, "runner up" awards... and "fourth place" trophies (one I was awarded at the Las Vegas nationals for sparring... I was competing well. But locked feet with my opponent and sprained my ankle. Later on, I dropped the trophy and... its foot broke off. To this day, this trophy [one of the smallest] is my favorite.)

Sometimes, with an experience of intense grief and pain, everything good that happens to you... just feels like a fourth place trophy. I am having one of those days today. I just got amazing news of an excellent opportunity that I absolutely deserve....

But there is still a little voice in my head that says, "You know this never would have happened if Carter hadn't died."

In the most recent case, this unfortunately is completely true. I don't say that to be crass or cruel. But we are talking about a great career opportunity. And, if I had left work in early March to be hospitalized for as long as possible before having a baby who was in the NICU for months and a high needs child due to prematurity for quite some time... yeah, what is on the table today, would not be on the table.

I can't give a lot of details as to this most recent "thing" yet, so I will go back to the last time I was really feeling this way.

In early April, I took a vacation. You may remember. I went to a fancy resort outside of phoenix, AZ and laid by the pool... The pool bartender flirted with me despite my constant reminders that I was married. I took lots of pictures of random things. I geocached in a cemetary.

What I never spoke of, is the breakdown I had the night before leaving. It was my first vacation I had taken by myself (mostly by myself, Heidi and I shared a hotel room, but she was working 95% of the time), leaving Peter behind to work. I remember crying to him... as if I was being given a death sentence. He assured me it would be okay. I SHOULD have fun. And I remember telling him, "But this is just a consolation prize. I am not supposed to be going on a vacation to lay by a pool. I am supposed to be pregnant. And if not that, then I am supposed to be camping outside the NICU for every bit of news to receive about our daughter."
"I am NOT supposed to be getting vacation right now."

But that's the sad thing about Infant loss no one can adequately describe. You grieve the loss of your child. But just as much (and on some days, more so), you grieve the loss of the future you had planned with them. You feel awkward not following the restrictive pregnancy rules; you remember that at Christmas, you won't have a _________ old baby, you will have an extra stocking. You realize you will never shop for the things you thought you would, talk amongst other parents about milestones, research safety ratings, shop for houses based on school districts, and so on and so forth.

I didn't mean to react to this fabulous moment in our lives today as if it was a fourth place trophy. I was trying to be thankful. But being thankful for the opportunity, led me to the same thinking... "This never would have happened if I had a new baby. I would just be getting back from maternity leave in order to hear this announcement"

And remembering that... just led me to realize that, since what I really want is to be a mom.... to a live child, that a new title or salary or whatever... it is great. But it is not what I had in the plans for this year. It wasn't even in the BACKUP plan!

So, there is this little dark voice, in the back of my head that renames one of the most wonderful things that has happened to me as "just a consolation prize." Do I deserve it? yes. Did I work hard for it? yes. But did I think, a few months ago that it was even a possibility? no. And if, the future I expected as of six months ago had come to pass, would this have ever occurred? no.

But.... that is another funny thing. Life continues.In the words of a song I have always loved, "I thought of you,  and where you'd gone, let the world spin madly on. And everything that I said I'd do, make the world brand new, take the time for you... and the world spins madly on." (the weepies)
I CANNOT STOP the world from happening. And... for the most part: I don't want to. The thought crosses my mind on occasion. I still have those, "Hey wait, my baby just died!" moments. But, for the most part, the world has to continue spinning. I find myself not wanting to wish this pain on anybody. But not really wanting to be witness to all the happy endings either. Today, I found out that one of my bussers and Pete's partner's girlfriend are both pregnant.
Part of me is so bitter and angry. "Of course THEY are pregnant!" my subconscious exclaims... as if "they" are less deserving. But... here is what I have learned being an unfortunate case of baby loss mama: 1 in 4 pregnancies doesn't lead to a healthy child: defects, born to soon, miscarriage... And I would say that statistic holds true as I have been watching dozens of friends pregnancies progress this year. So... while I am so hopelessly jealous of every moment of these women's pregnancies... I find myself just holding my breath for when bad news strikes. Its not being pessimistic, its being realistic. As a fellow BLM said when discussing our shared pregnant friend now hospitalized, "it doesn't surprise me. I saw this coming. And I continue to hope for the best. but I know the odds."
Grief is a funny thing. You never know when it is going to strike... or what it will get you for. But it is always there. Waiting for the moments you are weakest.

And sometimes being a baby loss mama feels like being back in a tiny tigers ring. Because, somehow, you are provided (in the moments of deepest despair) with women who aspire to be as "amazing" as you. "And in first place for most creative use of grief filled hyperactive energy: _______... and in first place for most likely to succeed beyond this: __________... and in first place for best fake smile when someone asks if you have kids: ________... and in first place for most likely to refrain from punching inadequate parents: ________..." And that is what makes the life of a baby loss mama so lonely. All those first place trophies. Some days... it is like competing to win an Oscar. But because there isn't a high budget film about this subject, one just has to quietly go about their business, trying not to make the rest of the world feel awkward about dead babies and other such horrific acts of... life.