As this year comes to a close...

It somehow makes me sad that it will no longer be the year I last held you, or kissed you. I won't be as close in time to the last time I held you alive inside of me. My heart still aches without you...and as blessed as I feel with your little siblings growing inside of me, I cannot help but wish all of my babies could be here with me.

While I am sad to be moving into a new year without you, I am also relieved to be able to leave the year of the most pain I have ever felt behind me. I am grateful to have learned so much, and to have lived so much, even with the sadness that came with it. I am also grateful to have to opportunity for a new beginning and a better outcome with the new adventure I am undertaking.

So as I sit an reflect on what I lost and gained this year, I also stop to remind myself that everything is reciprocal. Each lesson I learned and shared, gave someone else the chance to learn something as well...and I am grateful to have been a blessing this year as well.

So happy new year...here's to something happier...for me. For you, I can't imagine anything happier than singing with angels. I love you.

Merry Christmas...

Mateo, I just want you to know that with all the hustle and bustle of the season I have not forgotten you...I still think about you every moment, and wish you were here with me. I know that you are here with me and watching over me always. I love you forever and know that you are celebrating Christmas in Heaven.

Merry Christmas little one...fly high my angel.

Christmas is bringing up a lot of emotions...

I am struck with the overwhelming thought that there is someone missing in my home. I should have a little boy who is 6 1/2 months old and crawling around on my floor and trying to pull the Christmas tree over on himself...I should be introducing sold foods and making memories and videos and sharing pictures of funny faces...

I have to stop myself from getting angry, because anger is the hardest emotion I face...anger that this happened...anger that I couldn't and still can't change it...

This season is about love, and peace...and those are the things I try to emulate, not just this season but always. I try to remember that love is more powerful than anger. Love connects me to my son, it binds us forever.

This Christmas I just want to tell Mateo how much I love him...and always will.

Mommy will always remember you, and honor you. You are forever our son, our 2nd child. My precious little angel. Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.

Life isn't fair...

My mother used to tell me this all the time when I was growing up. Usually because I was upset that I couldn't go to a friends house, or I was being grounded for doing something I was specifically told not to. However, this life lesson is true about a lot of things. The thing is, that life isn't always fair, but we were never promised that.

Things happen all the time that suck, some of them seem little, like not being able to find a parking spot or being stuck in traffic that makes you ten minutes late. Other times it is something that you don't even know how to live through, and there are thousands of things in between.

The problem is, that sometimes we think that there is someone out there choosing every direction our lives go. The problem with that is that it feels wonderful when the things that happen are good, but to think that someone makes the choices to have things go bad is horrible.

My opinion? Sometimes the rain just falls. There is a Christian song from years ago that I always loved and it says:

And the rain falls on the good and bad, doesn't matter what you did, doesn't matter what you have
And the rain falls on the rich and poor, we don't know the reasons for the ways of Lord.

Sometimes things just happen, and it sucks. Every day I wish I could have a different story, but I don't. I have questioned so many times, "What did I do to deserve this?" I have been a good person, I haven't been perfect, but I couldn't believe I could deserve this horrible pain and suffering. And the answer to my question is nothing, no one is punishing me for anything. It was a fluke accident...it could have happened to the person who gave birth before me or the person laboring in the other room...it just rained...because life isn't always fair, or just. No one is out there making sure that each person only gets what they deserve...it doesn't work like that. Life on earth is full of happenings, and choices and boulders...we are all just doing the best we can with what is in front of us.

Life isn't fair, but it isn't out to get me either...everyday is hope for something better...

Take a moment...

What a beautiful life we live...every morning the sun rises and blesses the earth with it's light. We breathe the fresh air, move our bodies to the rhythm of the earth and interact with others on our journey. We don't usually stop to take the time to think about what we are doing exactly in each moment...our minds are usually on things we must accomplish, our to-do lists, or things we must buy. We also spend an uncanny amount of time thinking about the past...what others have done to us, what we have done to others...what others have done to others...it is amazing how much mental energy we put into what has already been over and done with.

But, how often do we really stop, and take a pause to look at what is happening in this moment. Do we ever stop and take the time to think about all that we have, all that we are and all that we are contributing to the world.

In this moment, for instance, I don't need anything. I have a full stomach, I am warm, I am healthy and I have a roof over my head. Of course, I will need to think about the future and what I need to plan to continue to have these things, but in this moment I don't have to do anything. I can be grateful right now, for all I have, and all that is continuing to come into my life.

Right now, I have more to be grateful, than to be sorry for. All I have is this moment...I am not ever promised another one, and what happened a moment ago is set in stone...and done. This moment is the gift...as they say...that is why it is called the PRESENT!

So today, I will live in the moment. I will not be afraid of what may happen tomorrow, or live in the things of the past that I cannot change. Right now, in this moment, I am just grateful...all I have, is gratitude.

Everyone said the holidays would be hard...

But they weren't so bad. I did have my moments, thinking I really should have had an extra little mouth to feed and a little boy to hold(Who would be almost 6 months now), but I just kept reminding myself that this is my story, my path.

I did purchase some little battery operated tea lights, and I have one sitting in front of Mateo's picture in my closet. I turn it on when I wake up in the morning, and I tell him good morning. And then I turn it off when I go to bed, and I tell him good night. It has become a little ritual and I am really connecting more by doing it.

I don't know if I shared the story of the tea light candle during my labor, so I thought I would share it now. My labor started at 7pm, so I labored all night. Just after midnight, we lit the candle and put it in a "Holding Hand's" Candle holder. That candle burned all night long. I remember laboring all night, while trying to sleep, and that beautiful light was all there was. When we listened to his heartbeat in the morning, the sun was up, and there was no more need for the candle, so after listening to his perfect little heart, my doula blew it out. I commented that it was the longest I had ever seen a tea light burn...

The next time we tried to listen to his heartbeat, he was gone. But, I still have this beautiful memory of the candle burning all night long. Those were our last hours together, and remembering the candle holder and the light, reminds me that the light is really always burning, and we are always held, no matter the distance.

So it warms my heart to keep a candle there with what I have left of him, to always remind me of this.

I love you Mateito.

It is what it is...

I was really trying to write something about gratitude, given the Thanksgiving holiday approaching, but instead I am writing about acceptance.

I was at a therapy session recently and I was talking about my guilt and all of my "What ifs" and my therapist said to me, "One of the most powerful things that you can tell yourself is, It is, what it is. Living in the past won't change it, and beating yourself up won't change it, so you have to accept what it is."

I can sometimes spend hours thinking about what would have happened if Mateo didn't die. What he would look like now, at almost 6 months old. What he would sound like, what color his eyes would be. It makes me very sad when I go down that road, and this saying has helped me with that.

It doesn't take away my sadness, but it does help me to stay in the now. So when I start to travel the road of "What ifs", I just tell myself, "Cerise, it is what it is, it has already happened, it can't be changed".

Now, I have also learned how to do this in other areas of my life, my mistakes of the past, the hurts that others have caused, and the friendships that have come and gone. It reminds me that all I really have is this moment. So, I must make the best of it. So, in a way, I guess this post has something to do with gratitude.

Namaste

Life is about Pain

I recently attended a service where Brother Ishmael Tetteh was speaking, and he made this statement, he said "Life is all about pain. Do you agree?" Most people said no, life is not about pain...but he insisted that it was. He said, "The river never has a strait path to ocean...there are ups and downs, obstacles that it must go around. The rays of sun aren't there most spectacular, until the moment that the rain clouds come and then they pass through them, then they explode into a rainbow. Pain is the obstacle that you hit, that transforms you into your most amazing self."

I don't know if I agree with the statement that life is all about pain, but it is true, that struggle is an important part of the process. The butterfly must struggle out of its cocoon...there is fluid in the body of the butterfly, that while it is pushing out of the cocoon, spreads into its wings. The fluid would kill the butterfly if it stayed in the body, and the wings, without this fluid, would never be able to fly. And so, the butterfly must go through this tribulation, to be able to finish it's transformation.

Childbirth is no different, bringing life into this world is painful...the process of pushing a baby out is a struggle for the mother, and for the baby...but the process is put in place so that the mother and the baby benefit. All life, all transformation, comes out of some sort of struggle.

Now, I don't believe for a second, that there is a higher power putting these obstacles in our way. The obstacles are just there...things happen. The rain falls on the rich and the poor. It is what we do with those obstacles that shape us, that transform us. It is how we are changed that gives the experience value.

We could reach the boulder, and decide to stay...deciding not to go around, or up and over. Or we can even decide to turn back. We can stand at the boulder and yell, and scream and fight. We can blame everyone around us for the putting the boulder there...we can even yell at God..."How could you do this to me, how could you put this boulder in my path?" Or, we can see the boulder, realize that there is nothing that we can do about it, grieve for as long as we need to, and then make a path around it.

Our boulders can be many things, and some are much more painful than others...but that doesn't mean that we don't have a choice in how profound our transformation can be.

Namaste

Where the strength comes from...

So, I was thinking at 3:00 am when I was up with my daughter as she was sick all night long...where does our strength as parents come from? Being a parent is not easy, it can be very hard...but at the end of the day or even when the day just keeps on going...it is all worth it.

Starting in pregnancy, when the first few months are crazy, especially if you have really bad morning sickness, some days you wonder where you will get the strength. You are so tired you can barely keep your head up, you laugh one second and then cry the next, and you are so bloated you can't fit into anything you own...And then, at an ultrasound one day, you see a little heart beating, and you see an outline of a little baby form, and all of a sudden, you realize that you would literally give your life for this perfect little one that is growing inside of you. It gives you the strength to get through anything.

Then during labor, even when you think you can't go on, you find the strength to give life to this child of yours...to push even when you don't know if you can...and that moment that you see your child for the first time, you realize that every moment of pain you will ever experience for the rest of your life, is okay...as long as this little baby is healthy and happy.

So, where do you find the strength, during the times it is not beautiful, or when it is just downright painful? I often wonder where I got the strength to push, knowing that Mateo wasn't alive...that I wasn't bringing him into this world to live, but rather, to say goodbye. Where did I find the strength to do all those things I felt like I shouldn't have had to do in the first place? And then, the question a lot of people have asked, although not asked to me directly, why did I still push him out, when it would have been so easy to have a c-section and just get it over with? Why did I go through 7 more hours of labor and 2 and a half hours of pushing, when I could have had a reprieve from my at least some of my pain and suffering?

I did it for the same reasons, I did it out of love. I promised my son the most peaceful birth I could give him. I promised him I would always do what was best for him. The freak accident that happened to cause his death, didn't let me out of my end of the deal. I wanted to fulfill my end of that promise, and give him his birth. These two events were actually separate events...one was the death of my child, and the other was his birth...they just happened in the wrong order.

So, back to my sick little girl in the middle of the night. About 5:30am we were up again with her. I looked into her eyes, and said to her, "Maya, I am so sorry you are not feeling better." and she put her hand on my cheek and said to me, "It's okay mama, some days, we just don't feel better."

That was the moment, that reminded me, that this pure love, that perfect connection...it is worth every second of the pain. And I would do it all again, all of it, out of love...the strongest love I have ever felt. The love of a mother, for her children.

Singing always heals my soul...

So, I sang with some friends tonight. We did a benefit concert for the wonderful organization called One True Love...

I realized that singing really heals my soul...it reminds me what I am here for and helps me put things in perspective. I even saw a little baby, and started to get sad, and I reminded myself that today was not about what I don't have...today was about what I do have, and what I have to give.

So here are my thoughts on Love, since that is what the theme of the night was.

Love is the answer to every question, and here is why:

Love would never allow anyone to be hungry, or homeless.
Love would never allow war, or hatred, or needless suffering, of any living thing.
Love would never allow people to be lonely.
Love would never allow abuse, or murder.
Love would never allow unforgivness, sorrow, shame or guilt.
Love would never allow poverty, inequality, discrimination or untruth.
Love would never allow intolerance, in any form.

When we come from a place of Love, all we can do is good in the world. All we can be is positive, and all we can see is love. True, pure, perfect, unconditional Love really is the answer to any question.

If we could all come from this place for just 5 minutes a day...True Love, to ourselves and to everything else that exists, the whole wide world, would know peace.

We are all One...I think this is the meaning of One True Love...To realize our connection to each other, realize our connection to all living things and to our planet, and just feel the love.

Haven't been around much...

I have been really down the last couple of days, and I haven't really known how to put it into words. I guess I still don't. I am seeing a counselor here in Maricopa, which is helping, but this week I have just been so emotional and anxious.

I feel like this journey is about only taking on what I can handle, and then, once I am feeling better, another wave of sadness comes over me that I must grieve again. I know that from the outside, it must be hard to imagine what kind of pain this is...but somehow it makes me question everything about myself. There is a level of blame and guilt that no amount of reality can shake. In my saddest moments, I feel completely lost, and yet at the same time, I know that somehow everything will be okay.

They say that time heals...but sometimes time is just a reminder that nothing will change. I will always have a son who didn't live...and there will always be a time when I need to grieve it all over again. I have grieved many things...the loss of a friend, the loss of my grandmother, the loss of pets and the loss of loves in my life...none have hurt as badly or gone as deeply as this.

There are moments when hope is hard to find, and maybe some moments are just meant to be grieved...for what was lost, for what might have been.

They say it is always darkest before the dawn...today I hope that it is true.

New Babies

So, I am seeing a counselor now, and at my appointment this week he asked me to think about the idea of "New Babies" and what they mean to me...so I thought I would share a blog post.

For me, new babies are hope. They are the perfect idea of miracles, and love and absolute perfection bundled into soft, sweet smelling skin, and cuddly cuteness. They remind me that life is precious and that there is still good in the world. Because if there wasn't, those little bundles of joy wouldn't exist.

Some may say, "Isn't it hard to see babies and be around them, knowing that you are on the losing end?", and maybe for a moment, I am sad about all that I have lost...but then I look into those little eyes, and I melt. There is such a beautiful innocence...this child has never known suffering (I hope), has never known loss or utter desperation. This baby has a clean slate, a world of possibilities, and an endless supply of love.

And then, in that moment, I am reminded that even though bad things happen, look at all of the wonderful things that out number them. Life really is good...

I know this is what my little Mateo would want me to remember...and so in remembering, I honor him.

Perspective

So, I have really had to work hard to find perspective lately in the realm of stillbirth. I realized that when you read so many bad stories, and hear so many sad endings, you forget that even though stillbirth is not as rare as we once believed, it is also not the norm.

Every time I find out someone is pregnant I cringe, and then I pray and hope for a happy ending. Now, I am sure that there is nothing wrong with wanting a happy ending, but I realize that I keep assuming the worst, because I now know what the worst is. The thing is, that life is such a miracle, because the chances of something happening are low. Just because something can go wrong, doesn't mean that it will.

It is very hard for me, being a statistic, and experiencing the worst scenario, to remember that fear is not always necessary...this is the reason every doctor doesn't worry constantly about each patient, and the reason that every pregnant woman is not in tears always about every possible problem...because chances are, everything will be just fine.

Does that mean we should take chances with our health? No, but making informed decisions, and doing our best is usually all that is necessary to ensure a positive outcome.

Sometimes, things still go wrong. I am living proof, that you can do everything right, and still not have a happy ending, but that is how life works. We never know what will happen, and we can't live all of our lives afraid. (I also know that sometimes it is someone else's fault that things happen, that is a different situation.)

So I have to remember to look at the big picture, and give myself a healthy dose of perspective.

Birth and Death are two separate events...

I have been thinking about this a lot...since Mateo's Memorial service actually. Rev. Michele read some of the poem "The Dash", which I had concerns about having read at the service. This poem talks about someone who speaks at a funeral referring to the dates on the tombstone of a friend, and says that the dates are not what matters most, but the dash between them. Reverend Michele stopped there and said that for Mateo, it seems that there is no dash, actually on his tombstone, there is only one date, but that just because he had never taken a breath of air does not mean that he didn't live.

He did live, for 41 full weeks. He kicked and turned, and punched and elbowed me...we would watch him suck him hand and kick his little legs at our Ultrasounds. He practiced his breathing and grew every day to be able to be able to continue to survive in this world, but him only living in the womb, didn't make him any less ALIVE.

I am pointing this out because there are always two events that are major in our lives. One is birth, we have all experienced it, from one side or another. It is a miracle that we are alive. We not only survived throughout the entire pregnancy of our mothers, we also survived birth, and every hazard that this world presented us with. Whether you believe in God, or not, it is still a miracle that we are here. Look at all the things that are against us everyday...and everyday, we wake up breathing...

And then there is death...this completely mysterious thing that so many fear all of their lives. That fear can be all encompassing, yes, there are those that cannot live for fear of death. And, then others work through that fear and live our passions and our lives with wild abandon. But, the majority of people live somewhere in the middle...afraid of death, but not really comfortable with it. They know that bad things happen, but when they do, they don't know what to say or how to deal with it. They feel bad, but they don't want to think to hard or long about that fact that those things could happen to them.

We are so afraid of death, because with the theories and all the ideas about death that we have...we really don't understand it at all. We hope that there is something out there, and want to always think that our loved ones are watching out for us. I do believe that they are, but everyone believes something different.

We struggle so much with these life events, but really they are the same. You can't have one without the other, and once you experience the first one, it is just a countdown to the second.

So what do you do with your countdown, with your dash? Have you let your fear, and your doubt, keep you from living the life that you want? I have...there was a time when I was so afraid of dying that I was frozen in fear. But every death of a loved one that I experience, somehow helps me step out a little more. I don't know how much I have here. It could be a year, or it could be 40 more. Today I will live my life with wild abandon...I will love more, and give more. Because when I do die, I want my legacy to be love...

I am not afraid anymore...I know that I am loved here, and I have so much love waiting for me there...that there is nothing left to be afraid of.

Stillbirth makes me feel like a loser...

I hate to say it is such simple terms...but there are a lot of thoughts that I am broken...I know that those thoughts are irrational, but that doesn't stop me from having them. I have even had thoughts that my son thought I was going to be a bad mom, so he left me. Especially since I have my own abandonment issues, this kind of thing brings up all sorts of emotions. I know that these things are ridiculous, but part of me still fears that they are true. Is this God's way of telling me I am a bad mother and I deserve any more children? Is this proof that I am a good mother to a daughter, but a bad mother to a son? Maybe my body can only carry girls to full term...somehow boys are not the same and my body is broken in that sense? I even thought for a few minutes right after it happened, that it was punishment for not paying my tithes....I kept thinking, "What thing could I have done, that was so bad, that I deserved this?"

Trying to find a why, and not finding one can be very hard. Especially since we all want to know why. "Your baby is perfect, and your body is perfect, and there wasn't anything wrong...oh, except your baby isn't alive." Doesn't make me feel any better. It makes me feel worse. If he had a disorder, or some sort of growth issue, or a disease no one knew about...but "nothing" is so hard to take. It is also sometimes hard to stay away from jealousy..."Why do other people get happy endings, but somehow, I don't"

This is where I try very hard to distinguish between grief, and victim-hood. I am allowed to be sad, but allowing my grief to make me a victim, will only make me feel worse, and it will make other people not want to continue to support me. I think there is a huge difference between coming to terms with something, and not allowing yourself to move on. Now, don't get me wrong, everyone grieves differently, and only I know what this place is for me...but I really want to make sure I stay on this side of the fence, if you know what I mean?

I have had to make sure that I don't keep Mateo's things in front of me all the time, I have his picture and his bear on a shelf in my closet, but I don't keep them prominent in my room or in my living room. It isn't that I want to forget him, I never could, but I know that if I force myself to look at his photo everyday, or to see his baby things, I won't be able to keep going. I try very hard to allow myself certain times to think of him and what happened, so that I don't just lose it at inopportune times. (Although that always can't be helped) I know that this sounds like I am managing my pain and grief, and in a way I am. I need to keep going and be a mom to Maya and keep doing what I need to do, and so I try to give myself what I need, without thinking about it all the time, so that I don't get lost in it.

The hardest thing for me now is the anger...I have gotten more angry as time goes on. I am starting counseling so that I can talk about a lot of this, and see if I can't let go of some of this anger as well...I hope that helps.

So this is my life right now...what I am going through and thinking...tomorrow will be a new day, with new feelings and we will see what those are when the sun comes up again. Everyday is a different adventure.

Until then...

Thank you...

There are days where I don't want to get out of bed...and days when I don't know if I can go on. Part of me wishes I could just sleep forever, so that I can dream of a life where I have my son...but I get up every day because there are people who love me, and believe in me, and know that I can make it. Thank you for being those people.

I love you...

Remembering you in everything I do...

I haven't been told that I should forget you...but that I must accept that you are gone. I guess this is true because I think I spent the first month trying to wake up from my nightmare. After that I realized that I couldn't...that this was now real life...and now, I strain to remember what it felt like when you kicked me...I have to go back and look at what your little nose looked like. I guess it is inevitable that I will forget some things, and others I will never forget. But, no matter what I do, I will never forget about you. I think of you ever moment...when I am out, I think about how you would look in your sisters arms, or about how I would be taking a hundred photos of you cooing and smiling. Maya asks about you almost everyday, she wants to hold you, and touch your face. I always tell her that we can't hold you, and she says, "okay", but I know she won't understand for a long time.

I still touch my stomach sometimes and remember you there...I guess I always will...I still love you, we all do.

There is only love...

Sometimes when I am lost for words, I just remember to love. Love is the answer to every question...and sometimes there is so much evidence that we are not remembering it, or that we have forgotten completely that it is what we all need. No matter what we are going through, no matter what stresses or pain or problem we are experiencing at the moment...pure love will always heal.

Today is a day to remember all those children that have been lost to pregnancy and infant loss. Today is a day of pure love...not just a day feel sorry for the families, but a day to acknowledge the lives of their children, no matter when they died. To know that however short their precious lives, they still lived...they were still born, and that it is completely acceptable to say their names, and to talk about them. Their lives are made more beautiful by it, and their families are honored by the remembering of others. In fact, they feel loved that way.

Today, say the name of a child that has been lost too soon, send love to the families of those children and know that love prevails...and the world is made more peaceful because of it.

Love to you all, always.

Cerise

C-sections...

So, recently I have been seeing a lot, and hearing a lot about scheduled c-sections, I just wanted to share my experiences and thoughts in a little post.

So, many of you know that Maya was delivered by scheduled c-section, due to her size and the fact that I had gestational diabetes, and she could get very big. They thought she was going to be a few pounds heavier than she was, and so we planned a c-section for my due date. She was born at 9 pounds even, and although that is bigger than some babies, I felt a little cheated out of the whole birthing experience, and carried a lot of anger for a long time about it.

Fast forward a few years and my pregnancy with Mateo was more than perfect...no problems, no gestation diabetes, no high blood pressure, no anything out of the ordinary...he was even measuring a little small at the ultrasounds...so there was no reason to plan a c-section with him. We even had a separate doctor that we were seeing who was making sure we were making all the right decisions in regards to the VBAC, and would check to make sure there wasn't anything preventing it. There never was...

So after a somewhat high risk pregnancy, and a c-section, we realized that it may have been un-necessary, but we were grateful to have a healthy baby in our arms. And then, after this beautiful, perfect pregnancy, without any problems what-so-ever, I had a successful VBAC...but my son didn't live.

I have heard a lot of comments (Not to me, personally, but about other mothers' losses) "If only she had a c-section, she would have a healthy baby."

I know that many people have thought that about our story, and I have thought it myself many, many times. It may be true, maybe if I had a c-section, I would be holding my baby. But, it may not be true either...we don't know what would have happened.

A healthy person, who is in great shape, who runs every day, and then all of a sudden dies of a heart attack, wouldn't have known that could happen, so how could he have prevented it. We don't live in hospitals just in case our kids get sick. We don't stay home everyday afraid, just in case we are going to get into an accident. That isn't how life works.

It is very easy to look back and say that we would change decisions we have made, hind sight is 20/20...but we all make decisions everyday with the best intentions in mind. Every baby loss mother that I know did the best she could with what she had. I have friends now that have lost more than most people can imagine...and everyone of them blames them self one way or another. Even when there is no reason to...we are parents and we feel like it is our job to protect our kids, and when we can't...we can't help but take the blame on ourselves...

I made the decision to have a natural birth, because that is what was best for my child and for me. A peaceful birth without drugs or surgeries...so we could have the best chance to bond...a birth with the least amount of harm. And, had one doctor looked at me and said, "You need a c-section" I wouldn't have hesitated...but none ever did. There was never a reason...

I am writing this mostly for those who still take the blame on yourselves for what happened to your babies...whatever the reason. Or for those family or friends of a baby loss parent that you feel could have made a different choice...

We all did the best we could, and no one is supported or healed by blame. Love, is the only answer.

Blessings to every person who reads this,

Cerise

Things don't get better, they get different.

I heard this statement a lot in the beginning of this journey. I didn't really understand it, but assumed I would one day get it. I think I am starting to understand this statement.

Things don't get better...

Well, they do get easier, I guess, but not better. I don't really have moments where I feel amazing, or great, like I used to. I am okay, and I am learning how to keep my emotions in control when I need to. If I start to cry in the store, I can quickly tell myself that there are people around me and I should wait until I am in the car to lose it. I can be around babies, and not feel horrible. I can talk about my son, and my birth experiences without too many tears, and feel comfortable sharing all that information with anyone. More than not having the feelings I had at the beginning, the anger, the rage, the disbelief, the sadness...I have just learned how to manage that and control it better than I did in the beginning.

...They just get different.

This is more true than I realized. I will never be happy that this experience happened, and I will never think that this really was for the best. I will never, in my time on earth, stop missing Mateo. But, things get different. I have learned to live with more compassion, because I never know what that jerk on the highway is dealing with. I have learned to love more openly, because you never know when something can happen and the people in your life will not be there anymore. And above all else, I have learned to be grateful for what is in front of me today, because a bigger house, more money, less debt, and nicer things, will not make me happy. Being skinnier won't take away sadness, and being prettier won't take away regrets. I have learned to be okay with who I am, and to really look at myself with eyes of love.

I have noticed that a lot of people I know who have gone through this feel the same things. And, sadly, sometimes the people in their life don't know what to say, so they often say the wrong things. I want to help those who don't know what to say, to know what may be helpful and isn't. Please know, that if you have already said these things to someone dealing with child loss, it is okay, most of the time we just take the intention and move on. But, here are some suggestions of things to avoid:

1. "Don't worry, you will have more children" - This may not always be the case, and even if it is, that is the furthest thing from our minds in the beginning. We can never replace the child that we lost, and this is very hard to hear while mourning the loss of a baby. **Note: Also, please don't say this to people who are grieving the loss of a pet, it hurts in that situation as well.**

2. "God wanted to have your child with him" - For those who believe in God, this is painful because why would God give you a pregnancy, and then take it away. It sounds so cruel. Second, for those who don't believe in God, it means nothing, and shows that you aren't thinking of them, and what they believe.

3. "It is for the best" - What could be better than a child being alive and living with their parents? How can losing a child be the best thing for someone's life? There is always a silver lining, or some good that come out of things, but to say that this was the best outcome just hurts, and is not compassionate at all.

4. "But you didn't even see a baby, or you weren't very far along" - This is said a lot when there is a miscarriage. As soon as parents find out that they are expecting, they start to bond with the baby. They imagine what it will be like to see their baby for the first time and start to imagine the baby growing, if it will be a boy or girl. They have hopes and dreams, and fears, just like anyone else. When they lose their child, they lose all of those hopes and dreams, and their greatest fears are realized. This grief is very real, and that child not being honored or remembered is terribly sad and hurtful.

5. "It is time to move on, or You should be over this by now", or any variation of this statement. This includes if they have other children before or after the baby they lost. First, every parent grieves in their own time, and there is no right way, or wrong way to grieve. It may take months or years to be able to go out in public, or move out of anger, rage, and especially guilt. Please don't rush grieving parents, just be there to listen and provide a shoulder to cry on. Second, a new baby, or previous children don't erase the memory or pain of losing an individual child. Even and especially including twins or triplets where one or more children pass away. Each child is loved differently and uniquely by their parents and having one child there may give some strength, but can't replace the child/ren they lost.

The best thing you can say is: "I am so sorry for your loss, and am here if you need to talk." This means more than anything you could say to someone, and while nothing can take a way the pain, it helps us know that you are there and that we are not alone.

The very worst thing you can say, even worse than anything listed above, is nothing. To act like nothing happened, or ignore the parents, is the most painful thing a friend can do. There are those who have said absolutely nothing, and for me, there is more anger toward those people, than anyone else, for anything else. It makes a parent feel like those people refuse to acknowledge their child/ren and their friendship means nothing. So please, even if you don't know what to say, say something, or just give a hug. It means the world to us.

I hope this is helpful...

Blessings to you all!

One of those days

So today has been very emotional for me...I am not sure what the trigger was, but I cried a lot today. Maybe I just needed a crying day.

I think a lot of about the moments I will never have, and often feel like I am not supposed to be doing any of this. I often relate it to someone who has been left at the altar. The wedding plans have been made, the guests have been invited, everything is in place, and then the day of celebration turns to a day of utter sadness...All the hopes and dreams, slip away. There are no wedding memories to remember, no honeymoon moments to grieve...all there is to grieve is what might have been. What could have been.

I had a dream a few days before Mateo passed away. In the dream, I had already had him, and was holding him, and feeding him. He was staring up into my eyes, almost smiling. This is the only memory of seeing him look at me that I have, and it was just a dream...I won't ever know if his smile would really look like that, or if his eyes would have looked at me that way...

I know that this sadness will not ever go away, I will never miss him less, and my heart will always have a space where his memory sits...and I know life will go on, and days will get brighter, and things will look better. So, I guess some days are just meant for him to be remembered...some days are just meant to be cried out. Today, was one of those days.

My pain is not unique...

Sometimes it is easy for me to fall into my pain and sadness and think that I am the only one who has ever felt such pain. I was in the store today, in the clearance section and there was a little boy baby book...I saw it and thought to myself, "I will never be able to fill one of those for Mateo. He will never have firsts, or memories, or needs. He won't ever take a step, or fall down. He won't ever have pictures, or hair cuts."

Then, standing in the store, I had to remind myself that my path is not the same as others. Maybe I won't ever raise my son, but there are others who have lost their children also. There are those who have lost their spouses, their friends, their parents, their siblings. Think of all the families of soldiers who have given their lives for our country, the innocent lives that have been lost to war, or famine, or greed, or hate or anger. What about all the fathers, mothers, sons and daughters, who never came home on September 11, 2001. No, I may feel like this pain has never been felt, or that no one knows what I am going through, but sadly, that is not the case.

We all have to face loss, we all have to face pain...we grieve family members who pass, whether they pass of old age, or if they die tragically, way too soon. We have to face death on a daily basis, in the news, in our own lives, and in the lives of others close to us.

So what does this mean for me? Does it take away my pain? No, and it won't take anyone else's pain either, but it reminds me that life is so very short. We never know when our moment will come, or how. So if I am going to live, really live my life, today is all I have. For some this may be scary, it can cause people to be afraid and to stop living their life, out of the fear that tomorrow may never come. Or, it can bring a healthy dose of reality and remind us that this moment is all we have and we have to make the most of it...or whatever time we have on this earth, will be wasted...

I love the lines of the song, "Wasted" by Carrie Underwood:


'Cause I don't wanna spend my life jaded, waiting
To wake up one day and find
That I've let all these years go by...
Wasted

Oh I don't wanna keep on wishing, missing
The still of the morning, the color of the night
I ain't spending no more time...
Wasted

Opportunity...

Instead of asking what can I get today, I should be asking, what can I give.

I sometimes walk around as if the world owes me something. Don't get me wrong, I try not to, but it's only human to think that you have put enough of yourself on the line and it is time to get something in return for all your hard work. Actually, this mindset can be very helpful in not allowing yourself to be a doormat, but day to day, I think it can be more harmful than anything else. This ends up feeding into the mindset of victim-hood.

I have my story, I am a woman, who hasn't always been treated well, my home-life growing up, wasn't perfect and I have a lot of emotional baggage from that. A huge tragedy happened to me when I was 21 and someone very close to me committed suicide, in front of me. Then, after all of the sadness in my life, the worst thing possible happened, my baby died. I gave birth to a baby I knew was gone and held my son in my arms and had to say good-bye to him.

Now here, is where I have to stop and say, I could use this story, to be afraid. I could use it to get sympathy and pity from those who read my story, because it is just so sad. Or, I could use this story to show how strong a person can be, when they need to be. I can tell my story as a symbol of hope for those who are going through tragedy, so that they know they can make it to the other side, without losing complete hope.

Of course, I am sad. Of course, I miss my son. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish he was here. I look at his photo and kiss it every night before bed. And I cry, mostly when no one is looking. Because I am his mommy, to an angel who never gets to grow up. But I am so much more than that. This experience has helped me realize that tragedy can strike anyone, none of us are immune to pain. It is how we overcome our tragedies that make us amazing. It is that, which changes the world.

There is a woman in Brazil, who recently lost her son at 36 weeks gestation. She fought for the birth she knew he deserved. She gave him a beautiful and peaceful birth, and now...even though she has had to bury him, she is pumping milk, his milk, for babies who need it. She is a hero. She is a hero, to those babies, and to all those who hear her story. She doesn't beg for our pity, because pity doesn't change the world. And pity won't bring her son back, nothing can do that. But, her courage and her honor, will make his memory beautiful. It will make her experience profound, instead of just sad.

I want to be a hero for my son, I want him to look down and me and know that his mommy is using her experience to bring more peace, and more love to this world. I want him to be proud of me, just like I want Maya to be proud of me. I can't do that if I just sit around and wait for the pity and the sadness...I have to go out and give love. I have to shine my light into the darkness and bring peace. I have to stand up, and be the change I want to see in the world. And then I can be a hero for my children too, and I can be proud of the mother that I am, and the woman that I have become.

Another beautiful birth...

I am writing this because early this morning, a baby that has been waited for and hoped for was born peacefully to her mother and father...and I am so happy!

I cried, but not out of sadness. I cried because every time there is a healthy, uncomplicated, beautiful birth...I am reminded that what happened to us is not the norm, that there is definitely hope for the future. It reminds me that a woman's body does know what it is doing and was designed for this purpose and that just because something can go wrong, doesn't mean that it will.

I know that because of my circumstances, I am more aware of the problems that can happen, and the sad outcomes that are possible...but it also makes me more aware of all of the positive outcomes and all the joy that is possible as well, and I have faith, that someday, I will again experience that side of the coin.

Love,

Cerise

Another day, another chance to see the miracles...

It's funny, when I was a little girl, I didn't really believe in miracles...I thought that life just happened and there was nothing really great about it. Then as a teenager, as a Christian I started to see miracles in a different way, but never really thought they happened to me.

Now, as an adult and with the experiences that I have had, I realize the miracles are happening everyday. The miracle of the the sun shining down on us, just close enough to keep us warm, yet just far enough away to keep from burning us up. The miracle of how our bodies know just how to run, our hearts beating, our blood pumping, our brains functioning perfectly, so that we can go about as if nothing is happening at all. How life itself, the process of conception, and birth are so miraculous...

The little things are miracles too, my little girl smiling at me in the morning, my husband who adores me, and who I adore, being by my side...how did we meet so perfectly and happen to be perfect for each other. Butterflies, birds, sunrise, the waves on the ocean...these are all miraculous...

It is easy to get caught up in life, and I am by no means trying to say that life doesn't suck sometimes, but life is beautiful too...and if you don't look at the good with the bad, you can get lost in the bad. I am not happy that some of my experiences have been so sad, but I know that I can't change them, and being able to look at the good around me, saves me from going to the darkest places and reminds me that tomorrow is a new day.

Everyone knows sadness, we all know silent desperation...we all know grief, it is different for everyone, but we know it well...we've all been in what we would call "Hell"...and it is not easy to come out of it, but it is still a choice what side we take. We can choose to walk in the mud and muck and complain, or we can step up on to the road, knowing the muck is there, and also knowing that we have chosen to rise above it and walk toward the light.

Being sad for me, doesn't mean I am not happy for you...

Today is a day of reflection for me, as I clean house, by myself....I always have time to remember and try to make sense out of the death of my little boy. I have so many little phrases that come up, "Everything happens for a reason", "Now I have a little angel always watching over me", "We don't know the reasons for the ways of the Lord"...but some days none of this brings me comfort. No matter what hopeful saying can come to mind, the human/mother part of me, sometimes just misses my son, and wishes that things were different.

I have many friends who are pregnant or have newborn babies. I want you to know that my sadness for me, doesn't mean I am not happy for you. I don't want you to be afraid of hurting my feelings, and I don't want you not to brag about your little one...seeing your baby still makes me happy, seeing your pregnant tummy reminds me that life is still a miracle, and knowing that your baby is healthy, reminds me that there is still hope for the future.

As I set out on a road that I hope will lead me to become a Birth Doula, I am going to be faced with many situations that will bring up things for me that may hurt, and remind me of what I don't have. But, they will also remind me that life goes on, and love finds a way. I believe in life, and I believe in love. I believe in the process and power of a woman to give birth to her children and I hope that my experiences bring me strength, hope and the power to be of support to other women through their personal process of bringing their children into this world.

And though you may sometimes see me cry, know that whatever sadness you see in my eyes, is overpowered by love.

15 weeks...and counting

And what have I learned?

I have learned that in life, there are no promises, and no guarantees. All we have is today, this moment, nothing more...if we don't do today what we are meant to do, be what we are meant to be, we may never get the chance. This is not cruel, it just is.

I have learned that especially when you feel the most alone, you are not...and that when you live your life in service to others, the love you give is returned a hundred fold, when you need it the most.

I have learned that love, is the greatest, most powerful thing that exists in the universe. It is bigger than life, and bigger than death...it overcomes, it goes on, and it heals even when the cut is unbearably deep.

I have learned that you can't change the past, even if you think of it always, and dream about a different outcome. What is done, is done. This, again, is not cruel, it just is.

I have learned that life does go on, my life, the life of those around me, the life of my son, the world keeps moving, and so must I...and on the days when it is the hardest, I am sent angels to help me make it through.

I have learned that not everything someone SAYS, is useful to me, but when I focus on the intention, I am always comforted.

I have learned that there are those who have no sympathy, who have nothing but hatred in them, and to those people I send only love...for what more can heal the world but Love?

I have learned that through our saddest and lowest moments, bonds and friendships are sometimes formed and strengthened. That there is a sisterhood now, with those who have felt this pain, and we are all stronger for the knowing that we are not the only ones who have felt this.

I have learned that children know more that anyone ever gives them credit for, and they are more resilient also. I have realized that some of my most honest and purely loving support, comes from my 3 year old.

I have learned that I can get through this, I can go on, and that I will be okay...

I am still grateful, and I have learned that this gratitude continues to grow every day.

In Honor of Stillbirth Remembrance Day...

Today, in honor of a day set aside to remember babies who were born still, I am remembering so many babies close to my heart. Not just those who were born still, but all those babies who are gone too soon. I know many people have shared the loss of their child with me, and whatever the cause or situation, I want you to know that your angel is in my heart. I hope with all my heart that our babies are all in heaven playing together, and watching over us.

Sending love today and always...

Cerise

Maya asked me today...

If her little brother was still in my tummy...I told her no...her brother is a little angel...and she just looked at me.

It is true that forever I will miss my little boy, and that no other child will ever replace him...and I want to always honor him in whatever way I can. We planned his memorial service last night and it is beautiful. It feels like exactly what we want to honor him with. I am so proud of my husband and grateful for him...he is such a support for me...I am so lucky to have such an amazing man.

I just know that the memorial service will remember him and honor him well and am grateful for all those who are participating in that event, and all who will attend.

Blessings to all of you...

Not having a great day...

This post is not going to be as positive as most, but it is how I feel. Also, I know things will get better, I am staying strong and I know it is part of the process....I am just allowing myself to feel whatever I feel at the moment....

In the midst of planning Mateo's memorial service a lot of things have come up for me...One of them being the "It's Not Fair" part. When people find out about what happened they often ask me what was wrong...and I must reply "nothing". It is very hard for me that I had a perfectly healthy pregnancy, baby, and birth...there wasn't anything wrong with him or me and labor was exquisite...except that he died. That part will always haunt me. That he is perfect, but not alive. It must be the same for family of those who die in car accidents or other types of accidents, especially if there was no one to blame. And although I know it is not my fault...I will always carry blame, because I was his mom, it was my job to protect him.

It is hard when I read about people having abortions, because they can't be bothered by a baby. Or when I hear about mothers who kill their children or abuse them. How much I wanted my baby...how much he was loved. I took great care of him and of myself...I was so careful. I didn't do drugs or drink...and then I read about mothers who do drugs, smoke and drink their whole pregnancy and their babies are born alive....

You always read about the miracles...a baby who was born with no heartbeat, but started breathing after being on mothers chest for a few minutes. Or the baby who was in the morgue after being stillborn and started moving, and they found a heartbeat. It is hard to come to the realization that I wasn't one of them...I really do have to live the rest of my life without my son...

I know that this will never go away, it will heal and it will still hurt...this scar on my heart will be there forever. And I will use it to do my very best in life, to help heal the world, because that is what I do and who I am...but it will still always hurt. I will still always miss him.

Today, it just hurts and I miss him that much more...so today, I am taking a little extra care of myself as I am remembering my dear little Mateo

12 weeks

Well, today is 12 weeks since I gave birth to my little angel. I still have crying days and just remembering days, but I try to honor Mateo a little bit every day. Planning his memorial after almost 3 months is healing and I am glad that I had time to work on grieving a little before this process. I am finding poems and beautiful things to remember him with and will even have my song sung for him.

Emotionally, and physically I am healing, but my heart still aches, and I guess it always will. There will always be a space there for him. I don't like to think of it as a hole, but more as a nest, where his memory sits, so that he is always there. I see the faces of those who know and the faces of others when they find out and know that they hurt for us, and I am grateful for the thoughts and prayers that I know still go up for us.

I want so badly to have a different story, but I don't. All I can do is take what has been given to me and make a difference, to be brave and courageous, and make sure that this only makes me stronger. And when I have those moments that are inevitable, the ones where I don't know how I can go on and live without that little boy that I adore so much, I remind myself that there is so much for me to do here...and when I am done and my creator calls me home, I will have that much more waiting for me on the other side.

Until then, I will live as if today is my last day...I will sing, as if the whole world is listening, I will dance with wild abandon, I will love more, I will worry less, and I will cherish every moment I have on this earth with those who mean so much to me. I will remember that tomorrow is not promised, and that the past is gone. I will forgive, though I don't have to forget. I will have more faith, hope for the future and give of myself whenever I can. I will remember that I always have something to give, and there is always a place for a friendly smile. I will honor those who fight for me, who love me and who sacrifice themselves for my benefit. I will see myself as beautiful, no matter what I weigh or what shape I am...I will live healthier and take care of the gift of a good working body. I will enjoy my freedom.

Because to do this, is to honor all life, including that of my children And I can't let either one of them down.

Days like today....

I can honestly say, today has been a good day. I had the wonderful opportunity to meet someone who, though I had only spoken to by email and chatted with, has been so supportive and a great sister/friend. This wonderful friend and I met when we both found out that we were expecting babies in May of 2011, on a forum online. We were both planning VBAC's and so we supported each other in that greatly. Then both of us sadly lost our children during/after birth. (Netiher loss had to do with our VBAC'S)

So, after supporting each other in pregnancy, and supporting our birth choices, we were now supporting each other in the loss of our precious children.

She happened to be in Chandler to visit family, so we were able to meet for breakfast today! We had a great talk, and it was very healing to meet her and chat with her in that setting. I hope that she knows how grateful I am for her friendship and support.

It was a good morning and I am glad that I got the chance to connect with her.

Moving through....

So my journey continues...I am noticing that I don't cry every day anymore. I have so many more good days...I still sometimes feel guilty about that, but I am allowing myself to feel what I feel. I laugh, and play, and have fun and know that although I miss by little boy everyday, I am allowed to live... I often think of the line from "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" where the mother says to her daughter "I gave you life, so you would live it."

I also talk a lot about Mateo, and now have his picture up in my bedroom. I look at him everyday and kiss him, I have his little bear and little keepsakes there with him, and my amazing friend Stephanie, made him a little hat...it is hanging from the photo frame. It feels good to have his place there, since his grave is so very far away.

I am so grateful for those people who talk about him with me, and ask me questions. It feels nice to know that other people want to know what they can about him. It doesn't hurt me to hear his name...I never want to be afraid to say it. If someone asks me how many children I have, I tell them that I have one with me and another waiting for me on the other side. I don't want to be ashamed to mention him...death is taboo, especially infant death...I won't live with that...he is my son, and I am so proud to have been his mommy.

I hope no one worries too much about me, I am really doing so well. I still cry sometimes, but it is healing to cry...it is cleansing to cry. I always feel a little better afterward.

I am going to sing this weekend, for the first real time publicly, and I know that I will be singing for him...now, everything I do, is in some way for him. So if you are there, know that while I sing to you, I will also be singing to the heavens, and hopefully those worlds can meet for a moment and we will all be sitting together in the light.

Blessings,

Cerise

ER yesterday...

Disclaimer: I will be sharing info about my menstrual cycle, so if that is not something you want to know about...don't read further :)



So, I ended up in the ER yesterday...I started my first period since I gave birth to Mateo, on Thursday. It was pretty normal until I got home on Thursday from choir practice. Then it started to get much heaver, I was having to use 1 pad an hour...and it didn't stop, so I called my midwife who had me go to get checked. I ended up at the ER most of the day. They didn't find the reason for the problem, but they did find that I was a little anemic from the blood loss and gave me medicines and sent me home. It was harder because I had to explain what happened to Mateo over and over again and then they did an ultrasound....I haven't had one since they found that he had passed away....so I cried and Renato held my hand. The U/S tech shared with me that she lost her baby when she was 27 weeks pregnant, and it helped to know that she really did understand what I was going through.

I am feeling much better today, and had to pick up a few things from Walmart today and I passed baby clothes. There was an outfit that was 3-6 months and I realized that he would have been wearing that size now, if he had lived....I can't believe how time just keeps going and he will always be the same in my heart and in my memories...

So today has been a lot about reflection and remembering...and continuing to grieve...

What do you expect...

I sometimes get the feeling that people are upset with me because I am doing "too" well...like I should be greiving more, or crying more. Sometimes I feel that myself as well. I sometimes feel guilty because I don't cry every moment, or even every day, because maybe that means that I love my child less because I can smile, or even laugh. Then I remind myself that I have grieved enough to learn how to accept more than most. I have seen such pain before, and that gives me a sort of advantage. Not to grieve faster, or to heal better, or even to be stronger...but to know without doubt what I believe. And that brings me such comfort, that I don't need to be as sad.

I believe that there is no death, that life is forever, and eternal. That Mateo is here with me all the time, and that the love that we have has no end. Every new life, and every raindrop and every sunrise reminds me of the beauty of life and that this human body is so fragile, that I must live every day to the fullest, because I never know when this journey will be up. I believe that every being has a beautiful purpose here, to love and to be loved and that when that journey is over, we go to be with our creator. I have such faith. There is no need to be afraid.

I know that you can't see me cry, but I do. And every moment of every day, I miss my baby. I will never stop, I will always feel like a part of me, of my family is missing here on earth. But I also know that I have this beautiful being watching and waiting for me. And there is peace in that.

If I seem to do better than you expect, then know that my healing is working and my beliefs are strong, and just send love. There is no right or wrong way to grieve...there is no time limit, and no one is better at grieving than another. Some people can't function for months or years, and there is nothing wrong with that, that is the way they process what happened. I am still grieving and I will be for a long time. My grieving just looks different than others.

"On the other side of right, and wrong, there is a field...I will meet you there." Rumi

Sunrise...

I always thought that sharing all of me, was one of my weaknesses. That wearing my heart on my sleeve, and loving with everything that I have, and living with wild abandon, meant that I couldn't control my emotions. When I was younger, I would get my heart broken and think that I could never share that much of myself again, and yet, when the time came, I would love that much more, and share that much more of my heart.

I have since come to realize that this is not a weakness, it is a great strength. It is the way that I face the world, with all that I am, and all that I can give. It is why, when I sing, I feel so connected to those who are around me. Why I have the ability to empathize, and sympathize even when I can't know the pain someone else feels. It is why I feel a personal responsibility to help change the world and make it a loving and more beautiful place. It is also why I seek out the hopeless and the lonely and befriend them, and why I have dedicated my life to helping every person that I can, feel loved.

I also see now that it is not just who I am, but a combination of that with my experiences that urge me to give more of me at every turn. Every sadness that I experience, and every joy as well, opens up another part of my  heart to share more, and to be of greater service.

This is my gift, my passion.

And in the wake of such sadness in my life, I am reminded of this burning in my soul, to be of service. To continue to walk this path, using my gifts and changing the world.

It could make me feel more alone, and yet it connects me deeper to the earth and to my fellow brothers and sisters in a way that gives me hope and strength and power. And I remember that I am here to do a great work, and I have yet one more angel, helping me to accomplish it.

Namaste

I wonder...

Sometimes I wonder if there is an alternate universe...if at 8:00 am on June 1st, if the worlds split and there is a place somewhere where the story was completely different. Where at 9am there was a strong heartbeat and we went and got into the birthing tub to get more comfortable. Where we listened and swayed to music, as I sang to you, just like I always did. Where those contractions got stronger and stronger...I can see myself telling your daddy how much they hurt, and him telling me how strong I am. sometime in the early afternoon realizing that you were going to be here very soon, and finding every bit of strength I could muster to push you out...and then, a blessed miracle, hearing you cry, not just cry...hearing you scream. Holding you and crying, smelling you, kissing you...telling you I would never let you go. And then they would weigh you, "Wow!" They would say, "What a big baby...a healthy 10lbs 6 oz.!" All the while you would be squirming, wanting back into mama's arms. I would feed you and look down on your beautiful face and feel all this love for you, but be able to show you how much I love you. I would cry and cry, but tears of joy.

Then, I would call everyone, but this would be to tell them you were here, and they would congratulate and ask how you were...and we would have told them that everything is wonderful and that you were perfect.

In this Universe, we would have taken you home with us, and showed you your bed...and changed your little diapers and introduced you to all your new family. That night, you would have woken up to eat a lot, I am sure. And I may have even complained, not imagining what I could have lost.

Now, you would be almost 8 weeks old, and we would still be celebrating you...measuring you, watching you grow and loving you more and more everyday...

But, if there is another Universe, where you didn't die...I got left in the one where you did. And instead, we prepare to leave and go home without you, with only your memory and a few pieces of clothing I can't bear to leave behind. But not loving you any less...in fact, loving you and missing you more.

7 weeks...

Well, It has been 7 weeks...I have to admit I feel like I am doing somewhat better. I don't feel good, necessarily, but I feel like I am doing better. I can feel the healing and being able to move on a bit. I don't lose it when I see pregnant women or new babies, and I know that life is going on. I still have great moments of sadness, but they are less and less. I still get very angry, but those times are fewer...and somehow part of me feels guilty for being okay, like I loved my little boy less, or not enough, because I can smile and laugh...but I remind myself that it isn't true. It is okay, to be okay...and that doesn't make me miss him less, it just makes me a better mom for my daughter that is here and a better wife to my husband.

Dear Mateito...

I feel bad that it has taken me this long to really talk to you. I talk about you, and think of you every minute, of everyday...but to really talk to you, that I haven't done. I want you to know how much I wanted you, and how happy I was to find out that I was pregnant with you. I had to take the test 3 times before I believed the little pink line on September 12, 2010. I will never forget the day for as long as I live. I told everyone right away, I knew that there was always a chance of losing you in the early days, but I remember thinking that I would rather have everyone rejoice with me, and be there if I lost you, than to lose you and have to cry alone. I still feel that way today. I remember telling your big sister for the first time, that she would have a little baby to help mommy take care of. She never really understood, but she was so happy to have a baby to hold and love, and sing to.

Your daddy and I would have little discussions about whether you were a boy or girl, and I would lovingly remind him that I knew you were a boy, and that I am always right...and he would smile at me, and say, "We will see" I would just laugh...

I would go to my doctors appointments to hear your heartbeat and every time I would cry...my belly would shake and I would have to say sorry to Stephanie and Jen...they would just smile.

I was always worried about eating right, and exercising and making sure that I was perfectly healthy, so you would be too. Your daddy and I joined the gym and started doing water aerobics...I would love the way you would be weightless, while I was in the water. We always had so much fun, you and I.

I remember our last ultrasound, seeing your little face...watching you suck on your hand. I told your dad..."He is going to be one hungry little boy" I could already picture you there, me watching your eyes as I fed you...I could picture Maya's little hand carefully stroking your hair as you ate. We all already loved you so much...we were just waiting for you to come out and show your little face.

And then came the day that we were waiting for, we were in labor...I remember rubbing my belly, telling you not to be afraid through the contractions...we were doing this together, you and I...I promised you that I would never do anything to hurt you...to always do what was best for you...I think back to that day, when I was so carefree, swaying to music and singing to you...not knowing that I was singing you into heaven, dancing you right into God's arms. If I had known, I would have never let you go.

Then things got blurry...hours that felt like minutes, time passed so slowly and so quickly. There was pain, but nothing physical could hurt as badly as knowing that I could never have you...and then there you were...I waited for you to cry, hoping that they were wrong...and then realizing that you really were too beautiful for earth. We held you, memorized you, and then I had to give you back...but all the while I have been holding on...what else can I do.

They tell me that I have to let you go...not your memory, but you Spirit...to let you and I both be free...

I put all the energy of you I had into a beautiful little sleeping bear and took you with me on a journey of the heart. A journey to a magical place, filled with wonder, and peace. The Incas believed that when a loved one dies, the Condor, carries them on his back to the other side. They put the bodies into a fetal position, so that they can be born into heaven...it was perfect...I thought about it all day. How I would leave your energy there...so that you can be free in this most beautiful place...with these amazing mountains all around you forever. So I carefully placed your bear on the back of the Condor and sang you the song I wrote for you...

"I let you live, as the wind in my hair/as the butterfly that gracefully flies through the air/I let you live, as the dreams of my heart/for I know that when you're there you are never far/because I know that I can't just let you go/I let you live"

And I set you free...

Although I will never let you go, I will hold your memory forever, my little Mateo, my only son, I let you live...

I feel bad posting when I am so sad...but this blog is about what I am feeling when I am feeling it...

I feel so strong sometimes...I feel like I can breathe, and that the sadness won't completely overtake me...then something happens and I just don't want to do this anymore.

I don't want this experience, I don't want to learn any lessons...I never took life for granted anyway, I always cherished everything. I don't want to grieve, or cry anymore. I don't want these kinds of sleepless nights. I don't want this pain, or suffering. I just want my baby. I just want to rock him and hold him and feed him and watch him goo and grow and smile and sleep. I would do anything to change that moment, that horrible second where everything changed. I am so angry that I can't...I am more angry that I have no one to blame, not a person or thing I can be angry at. This horrible accident, this moment of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time...I was a handful of hours away from holding him crying in my arms...just a short time from his cord being obsolete...and just before that could happen, it killed him...

I just want my baby...my son, my Mateo. 

How can I serve today...

I have realized that I have a very important purpose on this planet...I have always known it, even when I have temporarily forgotten it. My purpose is to spread love, peace and joy to the world. I usually do this through music, as most of you know, but I am realizing that I have more to give than just that. I have a heart filled with love and I have experiences that can help others who are going through similar things to heal. I also realized that I am so blessed to have a huge support system. I have friends who allow me to call them and cry, who listen and who say the exact thing that I need to hear at the perfect time. These friends send me emails, and love and prayers everyday, and because of that I have never felt more loved than I do today. Because of this love, I have so much love overflowing, that I know I have extra love to share, so that other women and men who are going through this can feel some of this amazing love and know that, while the pain will never go away completely, and we will never forget, we will heal and be able to continuing living our lives knowing that our angels are always with us.

My hope is only to serve...today I choose to use this experience to do that.

The most exclusive club...

I am member of the most exclusive club. It is extremely expensive because it costs all your hopes and dreams. It is a club of women and men who wished and prayed and almost had their dreams come true, only to change at the last moment. A club of silent tears and false smiles and a disconnection from the rest of the world. A club no one wants to join, but are forced to join without really ever knowing this club existed. It is a club where once you join you take the hands of the ones who have joined before you, and you bow your head and cry for them, and they in turn cry for you. Because you now know their pain, and their suffering. You now know their nightmares and their sadness.

No one ever wants to join, and the members pray no one will ever join again, and every day they do. This club has existed for as long as their has been birth, but mostly it is never spoken of. Outsiders can't truly know, because they can't imagine. There is no way to really empathize with the members, because you can't know until you know, and once you know, you become one of us. I want out of this club, but as they say, you can check out anytime you want, but you can't ever leave.

So here we stand, together, a group of parents stronger than the world ever knew, watching the skies, for rainbows and butterflies...hoping one day to hold angels in our arms again.

Today we let his body go...

Today is the funeral for our little angel Mateo. We will be letting his body go, but holding him forever in our hearts. I am so filled with emotions. I am scared and angry, but above all, I am sad. I am sad that I am having this experience. I don't want to bury my baby, I want to raise him and watch him grow and cover him with kisses. But, this is my experience, and I have to accept it, so that I can grieve. It is interesting that I have always thought that if I had to go through this pain, it would kill me. And somehow, with the support of my family and friends, I am okay, surviving and even more, I still have hope for the future.

Today will be hard on us...I will cry a lot, and feel loved. I know that I will feel loved.

He would be 28 days old today...

Today is a hard day for me again...I realized today that Maya, smiled for the first time when she was 28 days old . My little Mateo would be smiling at me today...I wish I knew what that little smile looked like. I wish I could look into his little eyes and tell him how much I love him. How much I wanted him, and prayed for him, and planned for him. How grateful I was to have him. How much we all looked forward to seeing him and raising him. I will always miss him...he will always be in my heart. 

4 weeks ago today...

It is starting to get easier...I can actually see his picture without crying. I can remember him and smile, sometimes. It still hurts, and I am still sad. But, I feel like I am starting to accept what has happened. I spent a lot of time trying to find out how I could change it. Then I spent more time trying to find out why it was all my fault. Now I am accepting it, and learning how to forgive myself. I realized that although there is no reason to hold the blame, I do blame myself...I am his mother, it was my job to protect him. And I did. I did everything that I was supposed to do. I checked and rechecked and rechecked again everything I could have. There is nothing more I could have done, unless I could have seen into the future. Now, I just have to let it go. I have to release the guilt and allow myself to grieve. It is easier said than done. But I am starting this process.

I forgive me, I forgive me
Everything that I've been holding onto, I let go
I surrender, I surrender
I'm ready for my change, yes I am ready for my change ~ Rickie Byars Beckwith

Pondering the future...

Renato and I were talking last night about the future and what it holds for us. I was telling him that the thought of being pregnant makes me very happy, but that I long to still be pregnant with Mateo and for the outcome to be different. I also said that the thought of being pregnant again in the future with a little girl, makes me sad. Not because I don't want another girl, but because I want my little boy, my little Mateo. Renato reminded me that even if I was pregnant in the future with a little boy, it wouldn't be the same little boy.

Then we started talking about how we were so set against having more children after him. That we were done and our family was going to be complete. We realized that if that was the case, the next child we have would never have been born...what a sad thought...that we will have children that we never would have had if this didn't happen.

These are the things I ponder today...

Today I promise...

Today, I promise not to take anything for granted. I promise to appreciate the sun that I have, because I have known the darkness. I promise to stop and listen to the waves and the birds singing, because I have known the frightful and deafening silence. I promise to be aware of the good and abundance all around me, because I have known the cold emptiness. I promise to hold my family closer, because I have known the sadness of empty arms. I promise to be grateful for every moment that I live, because I have seen death. I promise to be a friend and allow my friends to be there for me as well, because I have known loneliness. I promise to be here, present in the now, because the past is but a memory, and the future is not promised to me. Today I promise not to take anything for granted.

Things I miss...

I miss the smell of his hair after a bath, although I have never smelled it. I miss the sound of his cry at night, although I have never heard it. I miss him looking into my eyes while he is breastfeeding, although I have never seen them. I miss the feel of his hand grasping my finger, although I have never felt it.

I miss the laughter and the tears and the happiness and joys of raising a beautiful little boy. I miss his first smile, his first spoonful of food, his first laugh, him rolling over, him crawling. I miss his first steps and his first words. I miss his first day of school, his first illness, his first nightmare. I miss story time with him, singing to him while he falls asleep. I miss watching his big sister play with him. I miss trying to get them to stop fighting. I miss cuddling with them both while we watch tv at night. I miss running after him at home, at the playground. I miss the photos I never got to take. I miss the videos of him I never got to make. I miss doing homework with him and his first school dance. I miss watching him fall in love, and having his heart broken. I miss his wedding, and his spouse. I miss his children. I miss watching him grow.

I miss all the things that I never got to know. I miss my little Mateo so.

I still Believe

Today I was contemplating sadness and grief...I was realizing that this process will continue for a long time. Long after people have all but forgotten that they had a friend who lost a baby. Long after all the talking about it and learning about it is done. Long after we have another child and have moved on with our family. After all that is done, we will still be remembering our little Mateo. He will always be our son, our child we wanted so badly. I know that, and have come to terms with it.

I was also reading about those who lose hope, who lose faith, in the face of such tragedy. I thought how sad, to lose faith when you need it the most. I stopped and thought, do I still believe? Yes, yes I do.

I still believe that God is good, that life is good. I still believe that I will never be given more than I can handle, and that everything happens for a reason. I still believe that right will always win, and good will always triumph over evil. I still believe that prayers are answered and truth prevails. I still believe in the power of love. I still believe in my health and my body and still trust in it's process.

Why? How can I believe in the face of such sadness? Because I know that without those things the world would fall apart, sadness and despair would be everywhere and darkness would have overcome. Since that is not the case, I still believe. I believe all this because Mateo was proof that all these things are true, and his death can't disprove that, because his life was too strong and too beautiful.

Still counting weeks...

Today is 3 weeks since I started labor...I don't know how many weeks I will get to before they all start running together and I start just remembering the 1st of the month, when I delivered him.

Today is not as hard as a week was, or as hard as two weeks, so I feel like they are getting a little better each week that goes by.

I don't cry as often, and I do laugh and smile. I know that it will get better, so I am just trusting the process.

Thank you for reading...blessings to you all.

We visited the cemetery yesterday...

We went to visit the grave where Renato's grandparents are buried for Father's Day. I tried to focus on why we were there, to pay our respects to them...but seeing the space next to their plot where my little Mateo will be buried, I just lost it and started crying. I think that once we bury him it will make it more real, and that will be a different level of mourning for me. Right now, he is gone, but there is no marker, no stone. This will be so final...

Today I am pouring myself into reading others stories...somehow it helps me to read others sadness, and know that we are connected, bonded maybe, by such tragedies.

I find it hard to connect with people lately, I guess that it normal, and I hope that people understand. I keep thinking that when I get home, I will be able to put all of this behind me and things will go back to normal, but I don't think that is true...I won't forget, It won't ever be as it was. I will heal, and I will move on, but I will also always have my little angel in heaven. I should say my angels, because he is my second angel, although I barely knew my first.

I went to the doctor last week, and saw my statistics on paper, and it was sad for me. One live birth, two losses, advancing maternal age. Mix that with my weight and previous gestational diabetes and I have become a new level of High Risk, even though none of these had anything to do with our loss, it still hurts to see it all laid out.

We planned on this being our last pregnancy, but we also planned on having a live baby at the end of it. We planned on our family being complete, our little girl and boy, our little Maya and Mateo, exactly 3 1/2 years apart...our perfect family.

This is such a sobering event...to realize with so much sadness, and so much force, that we really aren't in control of anything.

So today I contemplate the meaning of surrender...I surrender...?

Today is Father's Day

Well today is Father's Day. Renato is handling everything well, as a new father to an angel baby. We looked at his photo this morning and everyday we remember him lovingly, but today was much more bittersweet. Maya came over and hugged us, her intuition is strong, and she always knows just when we need her. 

There has been much more peace the last couple of days, I am not sure why, and it may not last. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't cry, don't get me wrong, I thought about Mateo all day, but I did not cry about him. I woke up this morning feeling guilty, that I could be so strong, so soon. There are women on my Stillbirth Forums that, months and years later, can't go a day without crying. But, I decided that it is okay to remember him fondly, and not be sad for him. He isn't really gone. I can still feel him around me, so I think that helps. 

I know there will be days when I lose it again, so I am just being as peaceful as I can until I get there. This is not an easy road...but these roads are never easy for anyone. Whether it is the loss of a child or a parent or a friend, or a sibling, grief is a journey. It is a journey with no destination. You will not arrive at a place where everything is as you want it, and you cannot turn back or bypass the road. You can't just decide not to do it, although some try, it doesn't work. It is a road you must take, and everyone takes it differently. So I walk my journey. 

There are those that I am seeing take this journey alone, whether they really are doesn't matter. They choose to walk their road alone. I take mine with 10,000 angels. You are all among those angels. I am stronger because I will not have to walk this journey alone. 

When I was pregnant, and planning my VBAC, I knew that the road would be hard. I used to envision the scene from Avatar where they are all at the Tree of Souls and they are connected to the Earth and then they are also connected to each other. I would see my loved ones all there holding me. That strength helped me in the hard times then, and this vision helps me now. 

How can I feel alone with you all by my side? How can I feel isolated or in despair? 

I can feel sad, angry, robbed, cheated, and devastated...and I do, but I am so grateful that I do not feel alone. 

Blessings, 

Cerise

Woke up not doing well...but it got better

Today I woke up angry. Angry, that my son is gone and that there are so many people with babies out there who are enjoying their newborns, and I am not. Don't get me wrong, I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone's babies, but most especially to mine. I want to hold him, and sing to him and hear him cry. I want to be up all night feeding him and rocking him. I want to put all of these clothes on his chubby little body and bathe him and smell his hair. But, I can't. All I have is the memory of him kicking me and rolling around and having the hiccups, but I don't know what he sounded like. I don't know what he smelled like or what his eyes looked like. Those things make me horribly angry, and terribly sad. I often think, "What did I do to deserve this?" As if anyone in the world deserves this pain. And I always answer my own question with, "Cerise, God doesn't kill babies. No one took him from me, it was just an accident. It could have happened to anyone, we were just the ones that it happened to." This sometimes helps me, and sometimes hurts me more.

Renato and I decided that since we were feeling this way, we should get out of the house and do something. We decided to go to the National Museum. They had an exhibition of photos documenting a horrible war that happened here from 1980-2000. There were photos of mothers who's children had been killed, and I looked into their eyes and could feel some of their pain. I know that their pain is different, but I know that the pain is similar. I could feel a sad connection to them, and somehow this helped me. To know that I am not isolated in my grief, that there are other women all over the world who know this pain. Women who have lost children, who have had stillbirths, who have grieved over their child. I sometimes cry that I wish he had breathed one breath, or that he had opened his eyes to look at me for one moment, but I know that would have made it that much harder.

My pain is different than others pain, but it is no less real. Renato's pain is different than mine, but it is no less real. I hate that we are going through this, I hate that anyone in the world goes through this. It is so horribly sad that any parent has to bury their child.

I know that there are stages to my grief, and each day I feel stronger than the day before...but I have moments where I just want to feel angry, I just want to cry for him. I just want to wish that there was something I could do to change how this all turned out. But I can't...

Then Maya comes home and I hold her...her brother looked so much like her, that when she closes her eyes we cry. Here baby pictures take our breath away...

I hold her and am grateful that she is there and that I have a beautiful, healthy daughter. I don't know how I would deal with all this without her. My perfect little Mayita. My days get better because of her.

Staying busy

So everyday I want to stay in bed and cry, and I think this is the normal reaction to this situation. I don't though, because I know that if I did I might lose myself completely. I do give myself time to grieve and I cry and think about my little Mateo, but I also go out and find things to do. I remind myself that I am still a mommy to Maya, and she needs me to be there for her too. I can't say how much she means to me. I don't know if I could do this if I didn't have her.

I had a doctors appointment yesterday and it was a good appointment and although the first time I saw this doctor, he kept saying that it could have been prevented, and I just wasn't monitored enough. This time he just kept saying that he wished there was a way to prevent it. Renato explained all of the tests, and the autopsy reports and the doctor just kept saying it was such a sad accident. I could feel his sadness, and his sympathy. I know that everyone who hears this story feels that. I kept telling myself that this was like being hit by a drunk driver, or a guy who accidentally runs a red light...but in those situations there is someone to blame. This is more like the extremely healthy guy who runs marathons and is in perfect shape and one day he goes for a jog and his heart just stops. Who do you blame? What could he have done to change it? Nothing.

I have started telling myself that his body could not have worked, that it was broken in some way that they don't know about. I have to tell myself this, because the pain of thinking that he was perfect in every way, and that just a few hours before he was born his cord kinked and killed him, is too much. No, I don't think I could keep going right now if I follow that road.

Today I have an appointment at the US Embassy to find out what we need to do to register his stillbirth and then I have my Tuesday card game today because Tuesday we couldn't do it. Hopefully, these things will continue to help me cope.

And in those moments, when I allow myself to remember, and to cry. I remember all of the good. His perfect 3D ultrasound photos and videos, my belly pics, my daughter talking to her little brother and telling him she loved him. Us hoping, and waiting for the perfect day when we would get to see him. Now we are just waiting a little longer to see him again.

I will leave you with something beautiful that happened the day after Mateo was born. I kept telling Maya that once he was born, she was going to be my big helper. She used to say that she would sing to him when he was going to sleep. The day after I gave birth to my angel, Maya asked me where he was. I told her that he was sleeping. She laid her head on my now empty belly and sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

This is the most beautiful quote, I read it on another mothers blog about her baby's stillbirth.

"Some people dream of angels, we held one in our arms"

Blessings,

Cerise

Two weeks ago today...

Today my sweet baby Mateo would have been two weeks old. I would have been showing off his pictures and getting emails and notes of congratulations on my little boy. I used to joke that every time we saw him on Ultrasound he was sucking his hand, so he was going to be a very hungry little boy. I just knew he would keeop me busy day and night with eating.

Instead, I am kept up at night with thoughts of why he is not here, and what I could have done to change that. I have asked myself, "If only I had a c-section at 39 weeks, would he be here in my arms?", "If I had asked to be induced, or if they had actually found a problem, would it have made a difference?"

But, here is what I know: Everything always happens for a reason, there is always a higher plan and my job is not to know the why, or the how, but to have faith and know that my highest and best good, and the highest and best good for all concerned, is always done.

As a very close friend of mine told me today, "If you had been able to change it, it will just make you feel guilty. If it was a horrible accident, that couldn't have been prevented, you will always be afraid that it will happen again. There isn't anything that will make it better...it just hurts and you can't change it, no matter what."

I am realizing how true this is, and am grateful for those words.

I really am holding up alright, I still don't want this and wish it would not have turned out this way...but I also know that there is nothing that could be done to change it. I have to know that he is still with me in the end, it's just a different way than what I had planned.

In love and light,

Cerise