23 Weeks; On Passing Mackenzie's Pregnancy

This past week was emotional.  At 22 weeks, on Easter Day 2013, I felt some strong, painful cramps.  They went away and I didn't bleed or anything, so I figured that I was just a little over-run from preparing the Easter meal and running around like my type-A self.  Plus, a little part of me didn't want to interrupt our happy Easter day with a four-hour trip to the ER where they probably wouldn't find anything wrong.  I also had a doctor appointment on Tuesday and I figured we could check out the cramps then.  Except at that doctor's appointment on Tuesday, at 22 weeks and 2 days, we found out that my baby boy died.  I'll always wonder about those moments on that Sunday.  Had I gone into the ER that day, would my baby have lived or would he already be dead?  On 22 weeks and 3 days, my dead baby boy was born into this world.

A Picture of Mackenzie's Little Feet

The little baby in my belly this time was active this week.  Kicking and definitely more active after I would feed him copious amounts of sweets (just to make him move around more).  I checked his heart beat at least two times a day this past week.  Reassuring, but never enough.  I kept thinking this whole week: "I'm so pregnant.  My belly is so big.  This is how big I was when Mackenzie died."

23 weeks, 1 day Pregnancy #4

Today, I am 23 weeks and 1 day and this is my belly.

After my last post, I got a lot of comments asking whether I was seeing a therapist.  I am and I have been since the week after Mackenzie died.  A lot of people have asked me this in the days since Mackenzie has died.  I'm not sure what to think of it.  I generally accept that this is how people express concern when they feel helpless and don't know what to say.  Sometimes, though, this question makes me angry. (Please don't feel bad if you asked or suggested this. I did want to talk about why this is a typical response.  I welcome the perspective of others!)

Is this person implying that I am not handling my grief and anger well?  That I'm not "resilient" enough?

Do I appear to be a crazy person that isn't managing my life and being a good parent to my living children?

Am I not allowed to be angry and to grieve his loss?

Should I hide my emotions? 

Is the only acceptable form of grieving mother one that is positive and waxes poetic about how thankful she is for the little time she had with her child?

For me, grief is angry and raw.  Grief is waxing and waning.  Grief will dissipate for hours, days, and then sneak up on me with all-consuming force.  Despite it all, grief never, ever goes away.  It is a thorn in my side whose presence is always known.

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Two months after Mackenzie's death, I was talking to a friend at a birthday party.  One of her best friends had lost a daughter at full-term after years of infertility.  My friend told me that her friend had never been the same.  I was horrified.  I thought that surely that wouldn't be me as I felt I was coping fairly well with Mackenzie's death and was positive despite it all.  I couldn't imagine a life of continued acute grief.  I didn't want that to be me.  I realize now how naive I was.  I thought I was coping well, but I was just beginning my grieving life.  I didn't understand the depths of my grief.  I was probably still in shock.  I know better now...