I often think about time these days. It has been a year since Mackenzie died. My birthday approaches. I think about the person I used to be a year ago. Two years ago. Five years ago. Ten years ago.
I think about how lost I am.
I think about how everything in my life revolves around getting this baby out of my belly alive. And, then what? Then my life finally begins again. I can finally close this chapter of my life. I can call the clinic in NJ and let them know our decision about our one crappy embryo up there. I can delve into going back to school or call work and let them know when I am going back. I can choose a birth control method. I haven't been on birth control since 2006!
I can be free.
We spent Mackenzie's birthday together as a family. We went to a family trampoline park...which the kids loved. I wanted to do something that made them happy. We made angel food cake. We bought balloons and made notes to our dear sweet boy. It took two attempts to have enough balloons to get the notes to "heaven," but we finally did it. We finally had our ceremony for our little boy lost. People sent flowers. My best friend gave me a lovely book called "Tear Soup," a book about healing after loss. Another best friend send me a beautiful print of e.e. cumming's poem [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]. I felt loved and cared for by some and ignored and belittled by others (mainly my mother and family). My mother said, "well, what are we going to do?" in reference to honoring Mackenzie's death. Something, I thought. Something would have been nice. A call. A card. But, in the end, it is my day to grieve my little boy. No one other than my husband will ever feel that day as I do.
I spent Tuesday afternoon this week in L&D. I had gone in for a routine biophysical monitoring of the baby, which indicated that I was having regular contractions every 6 minutes. Because the baby is still breach, they wanted to make sure I wasn't in labor. My cervix hadn't opened, though, so I just had to spend 4 hours monitoring the baby and getting an IV bag "as lack of fluids causes contractions." (Duh. I know this. I drink 6-10 bottles of water a day and have contractions regularly despite this!)
I had been anxious about how I would feel returning to L&D where a little over a year ago I had given birth to Mackenzie. But, it wasn't as emotional as I thought it would be. I cried just a little. I mourned what could have been. And I moved on.
