We named our baby Jesse because we could both see it as a gender neutral name (except in spelling!). We eventually felt like Jesse was a boy, because we constantly called him he when we were trying to keep neutral. Before we lost the baby, Bill said he felt like it was probably a boy.
We named him Jesse while lost in grief. I never looked up information on the name like I usually do. I remember the day I realized that Elizabeth meant God's Daughter. I found out right after we lost her. She truly belonged to God.
Today I looked up Jesse's name. Jesse means God Exists.
How interesting. Through the last few months, we've struggled, we've cried, we've been in anguish and agony. We've doubted our religion, but we've never doubted God. We prayed together and we prayed alone, seeking out God and His answers. I still don't know His answers. As the days go by, they become even more confusing. As doors we thought were wide open close, I get a little more lost. I've felt lost a lot lately.
But God Exists. The baby we lost, the reason we're going through this hell, left so little behind. But the name, the only name we could instantly agree on, says so much.
He exists. He's there, on the other end of our prayers. He has a plan for us and a way to make this better. He will see us through this.
That's something I can hold onto.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Charity
I'm thinking of opening a charity.
Well, this is something I've been thinking about for the last 3 years, but now I'm seriously getting close to opening one.
I found what I want to do, something relatively low in cost, small and light to ship, and something that won't take a lot of time to make. I'm looking into opening a FB page, website and blog for it. I have no idea what the name will be yet, but I'm working on it.
I'll be making little clay baked angels that look like something like this:
I'm guessing each 4 inch angel will take about one 2 oz block of clay, which costs about $3. I'm guessing shipping materials and cost will be about $4. Right now, the only baby loss charity that has survived for more than one year is a charity that asks for each person to pay their own shipping. Since I have no money to give hundreds of angels away and I can't count on donations, I'll probably ask $6 for each order, which I think is a low and fair price, one that I won't make any money from and will just go towards the cost.
Each angel will be made from a baby mold and a wing mold, then further sculpted, dressed, and put together. Each one shouldn't take much more than one hour. The successful charity I'm modeling my own charity off of takes 50 orders a month and gets all those orders in within 4 hours of opening the forms. They have a team of 3-4 working on them. 50 hours over the span of a whole month shouldn't be too rough for just me doing it. I could test run my first month at 25.
In order to get this together, I need:
Well, this is something I've been thinking about for the last 3 years, but now I'm seriously getting close to opening one.
I found what I want to do, something relatively low in cost, small and light to ship, and something that won't take a lot of time to make. I'm looking into opening a FB page, website and blog for it. I have no idea what the name will be yet, but I'm working on it.
I'll be making little clay baked angels that look like something like this:
I'm guessing each 4 inch angel will take about one 2 oz block of clay, which costs about $3. I'm guessing shipping materials and cost will be about $4. Right now, the only baby loss charity that has survived for more than one year is a charity that asks for each person to pay their own shipping. Since I have no money to give hundreds of angels away and I can't count on donations, I'll probably ask $6 for each order, which I think is a low and fair price, one that I won't make any money from and will just go towards the cost.
Each angel will be made from a baby mold and a wing mold, then further sculpted, dressed, and put together. Each one shouldn't take much more than one hour. The successful charity I'm modeling my own charity off of takes 50 orders a month and gets all those orders in within 4 hours of opening the forms. They have a team of 3-4 working on them. 50 hours over the span of a whole month shouldn't be too rough for just me doing it. I could test run my first month at 25.
In order to get this together, I need:
- $40 for the molds
- $30 for the flesh clay start up
- My own examples and pictures to show
- A website that lets me have a page for order forms as well as a message page
- A paypal for just the charity
- Tax information about running a charity
- A Facebook Page and marketing it
- A Wordpress blog for the charity
- A name for the charity
- An email for charity use - probably a gmail one?
- Get business cards made to mail with the angels
I'm not sure how long it'll take to get all of this finished. I'd like to launch it by Jesse's due date, which was September 17th. I feel like that is quite doable, so September is my goal. Until then, I'll be trying to gather the money, making samples, and setting up everything. That leaves me with about three months to get the work done and one month to spread the word to launch in the month of September. The money will definitely be the only hitch, I have no start up funds at the moment, but hopefully with selling some of the baby stuff, I'll get a few dollars together. Right now everything I made has gone towards funding Katie's ballet and her birthday as our budget is cut so thin right now that it can't come out of the bank. Trying to open a charity when we've fallen a bit into a charity case ourselves this year! I'm sure I'll be able to find a way for a worthy cause.
Friday, April 1, 2016
17 weeks....or not.
My posts are fewer lately, as I try to focus on other things. I do my best to not think about IVF, or if my future holds our Vincent or not. We talk about it weekly, but there's no answers to be found right now. The only thing we know is if it becomes possible and available to us, we'll at least try. But it might not become available, and we may be done having children. Two may be our number chosen for us.
Still, there's some things that are possible to get away from. Sometimes I look down at my flat belly and know it would be getting pretty huge by now. Today, I'd turn 17 weeks. We'd almost be reaching the halfway point. We'd be able to find out the gender soon, if I folded and couldn't wait until birth.
Instead, I've sold my favorite, expensive strollers and all of my maternity clothing. I've been sorting through and trying to sell the totes after giant totes full to the brim of baby clothing for every season. I put up for sale my co-sleeper, the one thing I didn't think I could get rid of, because it seems like a silly thing to hold onto with a future so unclear. Sure, there will be a few things I can't get rid of. The white lamb that's so cuddly and was supposed to be for the next baby. The little pirate bear sweater that I bought because it fit Vincent's theme so well. The little purple and pink fuzzy dinosaur sleeper I couldn't wait to cuddle a baby in. I'll keep a small box full of my hopes and dreams, but there's an overwhelming amount to get rid of yet.
It's hard to look at my belly and know how round it would be, how I'd be rubbing it and excited to be feeling all those kicks and hiccups. How my husband would be laying his head against it, talking to our new baby. These are the things that hurt the most. Knowing that none of those things may ever happen again. I enjoyed every moment of them...never knowing that I wouldn't get it again, that things would change so much.
Still, there's some things that are possible to get away from. Sometimes I look down at my flat belly and know it would be getting pretty huge by now. Today, I'd turn 17 weeks. We'd almost be reaching the halfway point. We'd be able to find out the gender soon, if I folded and couldn't wait until birth.
Instead, I've sold my favorite, expensive strollers and all of my maternity clothing. I've been sorting through and trying to sell the totes after giant totes full to the brim of baby clothing for every season. I put up for sale my co-sleeper, the one thing I didn't think I could get rid of, because it seems like a silly thing to hold onto with a future so unclear. Sure, there will be a few things I can't get rid of. The white lamb that's so cuddly and was supposed to be for the next baby. The little pirate bear sweater that I bought because it fit Vincent's theme so well. The little purple and pink fuzzy dinosaur sleeper I couldn't wait to cuddle a baby in. I'll keep a small box full of my hopes and dreams, but there's an overwhelming amount to get rid of yet.
It's hard to look at my belly and know how round it would be, how I'd be rubbing it and excited to be feeling all those kicks and hiccups. How my husband would be laying his head against it, talking to our new baby. These are the things that hurt the most. Knowing that none of those things may ever happen again. I enjoyed every moment of them...never knowing that I wouldn't get it again, that things would change so much.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
The Two Worlds of my Infertility
I feel so constantly torn.
How do you know when to fight for what you want, to not just give up...or when you should just let go?
How do you find that line?
I'm trying to do both and it's hard. I'm trying to let it go "for now". I'm trying to move on, to make myself accept that this may be all the family I get, that my baby days may be over, that I may never see my body pregnant again, the last pregnancy unknowingly my last.
At the same time, I have to lay foundations. I have to allow that door to stay open a crack, with potential that it can open wide one day. In order to do that, I can't let go completely. I have to fight companies to give us another interview. I have to fight against other people trying to get the jobs. I have to fight myself over what to get rid of and what I know I'll regret getting rid of later if we do have another. I have to fight between staying at our home and saving money or moving to where we may be able to make more money but start with nothing.
It's not some mythical being that I'm mourning. I'm mourning my Vincent. I said for two years that it felt like we had another little boy, our little Vincent, already part of our family and just waiting to arrive. I've always felt like he was meant to be. Bill has felt it too, felt like there's this baby that's ours, who already has a name and a family he's waiting to join. He's not just any baby, he's a baby that's meant to come from me, grow from me, birthed by me...but my body isn't capable of that on it's own. It's why this is so confusing. I still feel him, I still feel like he's supposed to be here. How can I give up on my little boy whose just not here yet? How can I not fight for him?
Fighting for him means pain, it means planning, it means not letting go. But letting go means I'll always miss him, I'll always feel incomplete, I'll always feel like a failure of a mother for not even trying when things got hard.
So I'm torn, constantly torn.
I try to live both worlds, a world of hope and a world of freedom. It's internal struggle, but it's something. I feel like every step I make, I have to make it for both worlds, but at least it's a step. I may need to tread carefully, but at least I'm moving. It's just so much thought and weight that goes into every breath I take and every move I make. It's hard.
How do you know when to fight for what you want, to not just give up...or when you should just let go?
How do you find that line?
I'm trying to do both and it's hard. I'm trying to let it go "for now". I'm trying to move on, to make myself accept that this may be all the family I get, that my baby days may be over, that I may never see my body pregnant again, the last pregnancy unknowingly my last.
At the same time, I have to lay foundations. I have to allow that door to stay open a crack, with potential that it can open wide one day. In order to do that, I can't let go completely. I have to fight companies to give us another interview. I have to fight against other people trying to get the jobs. I have to fight myself over what to get rid of and what I know I'll regret getting rid of later if we do have another. I have to fight between staying at our home and saving money or moving to where we may be able to make more money but start with nothing.
It's not some mythical being that I'm mourning. I'm mourning my Vincent. I said for two years that it felt like we had another little boy, our little Vincent, already part of our family and just waiting to arrive. I've always felt like he was meant to be. Bill has felt it too, felt like there's this baby that's ours, who already has a name and a family he's waiting to join. He's not just any baby, he's a baby that's meant to come from me, grow from me, birthed by me...but my body isn't capable of that on it's own. It's why this is so confusing. I still feel him, I still feel like he's supposed to be here. How can I give up on my little boy whose just not here yet? How can I not fight for him?
Fighting for him means pain, it means planning, it means not letting go. But letting go means I'll always miss him, I'll always feel incomplete, I'll always feel like a failure of a mother for not even trying when things got hard.
So I'm torn, constantly torn.
I try to live both worlds, a world of hope and a world of freedom. It's internal struggle, but it's something. I feel like every step I make, I have to make it for both worlds, but at least it's a step. I may need to tread carefully, but at least I'm moving. It's just so much thought and weight that goes into every breath I take and every move I make. It's hard.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Easing up
I've been in tears for days. It's like there are three parts of me: my physical body, my mental state and my emotional state, and I can only occupy one at a time. My emotional state was the most demanding lately. It makes my body cry when I don't even know why I'm crying. It makes me not have any appetite and almost be repulsed by the idea of having to go eat. It makes me drained, my heart ache, my smile lost. I had insomnia so badly all of January, and it's been back for the last week.
Today has been a bit better. I've switched gears. Last night, I cried and had no idea why until the tears stopped and my mind shut off. I felt completely aware of nothing but inside of my body. Today, I've felt down but no particular reason why. But now, I'm in my mental state. My tears are gone. I'm not sad. My brain is talking to me again, instead of just crying.
While in this state, I think I've finally started to accept my situation. I think through all the crying, even without understanding, and all the mourning of what's happened, acceptance has slowly creeped in.
I've been so stressed to find Bill a new job. Not just any job, but a job with insurance that covers infertility - a rare thing to find in PA. I've been filling out applications, sending out resumes and answering emails for two weeks. I've wished him good luck on interviews, set out his suit, and spent lots of time praying that he'd get the job. No job has happened yet.
Today the stress is gone. The drive is gone. I still want him to get a new job because right now he's working 7 days a week to make ends meet, but I'm willing to look at other jobs. Jobs that are good, even if they don't cover ivf.
I think I'm starting to pry ivf from my grip and let it go a bit. I still 100% pray that we can do it. I still, with all of my heart, want another baby. But I'm letting the rushing go. I'm letting the need to make sure it happens go. I'm letting go of trying to have everything right this second so that I don't need to grieve and feel the loss that we've suffered.
I'm trying to look at the bright side of things. For so long, I could only think of the downside when I thought of having two kids. They're growing up so fast. So many plans unfufilled. So many fantasies of Katie with a sister and Will with a brother not coming true. But while I've had those thoughts, I've cried. I've hidden myself away from Katie and Will to mourn in my sadness and thereby missing out on them. I've been so stressed that I haven't stopped to really enjoy them. I've just been getting through the day, rushing through things, and not really slowing down and seeing what's in front of me.
I'm planning vacations with my perfect vacation sized family. I'm thinking about how special my relationship with Katie will be, with just us being the girls in the house. I think of how special my little sweet boy is to me, my cuddler, my hugger, the one that always watches his mommy. I'm thinking of the things we can afford for these two, all of the many extras and extra extras we can give them, and how much easier it would be to move.
If nothing else, it would be good to have a few years break between having kids. I'd love to have Will and Katie be a bit older now, I think, before having any others. A wait time before ivf might do good. That's a lot of extra time I get with my current kids and to make lots of fun memories and save up money for the next child/ren.
I can see good in having only two kids, even though my heart mourns to say so. I can see good in waiting to try ivf for another year or two or three. I can see good in taking back my life and starting to really live it again.
I'm going to try, really really try, to be happy again. To fill up my life with fun things, things that make me and my kids smile. I'm going to embrace my small little family like it's the only family we may ever have. I'll still pray that we get our chance to have more. I'll still pray that we get that job we need. I'll still pray that we'll get to have babies that fill our baby names.
But I'm going to calm down. I'm going to breathe. I'm going to still mourn my missing babies, but not try to feel better by rushing to get pregnant. I think a few days ago I shocked myself after realizing that even if I wasn't infertile, I wouldn't want to be getting pregnant right now. I don't think I could mentally handle it. It wouldn't be the time. So why push to ensure ivf so much right now? It's not the time.
This year is about getting our ducks in a row. It's about healing. It's about regrouping, and calming down and just trying to relax. We have a lot of work to do this year, but it'll be done better if it's done without trying to shove more things in it and more emotions driving it.
I pray that 2016 will ease up on my heart and help me to heal and to take it easy. I hope it shows more promise and lets us start seeing our steps fulfilled and our plans going into fruition. Then I hope 2017 will give us our heart's desires and let us start making our big dreams come true. But, one step at a time.
Today has been a bit better. I've switched gears. Last night, I cried and had no idea why until the tears stopped and my mind shut off. I felt completely aware of nothing but inside of my body. Today, I've felt down but no particular reason why. But now, I'm in my mental state. My tears are gone. I'm not sad. My brain is talking to me again, instead of just crying.
While in this state, I think I've finally started to accept my situation. I think through all the crying, even without understanding, and all the mourning of what's happened, acceptance has slowly creeped in.
I've been so stressed to find Bill a new job. Not just any job, but a job with insurance that covers infertility - a rare thing to find in PA. I've been filling out applications, sending out resumes and answering emails for two weeks. I've wished him good luck on interviews, set out his suit, and spent lots of time praying that he'd get the job. No job has happened yet.
Today the stress is gone. The drive is gone. I still want him to get a new job because right now he's working 7 days a week to make ends meet, but I'm willing to look at other jobs. Jobs that are good, even if they don't cover ivf.
I think I'm starting to pry ivf from my grip and let it go a bit. I still 100% pray that we can do it. I still, with all of my heart, want another baby. But I'm letting the rushing go. I'm letting the need to make sure it happens go. I'm letting go of trying to have everything right this second so that I don't need to grieve and feel the loss that we've suffered.
I'm trying to look at the bright side of things. For so long, I could only think of the downside when I thought of having two kids. They're growing up so fast. So many plans unfufilled. So many fantasies of Katie with a sister and Will with a brother not coming true. But while I've had those thoughts, I've cried. I've hidden myself away from Katie and Will to mourn in my sadness and thereby missing out on them. I've been so stressed that I haven't stopped to really enjoy them. I've just been getting through the day, rushing through things, and not really slowing down and seeing what's in front of me.
I'm planning vacations with my perfect vacation sized family. I'm thinking about how special my relationship with Katie will be, with just us being the girls in the house. I think of how special my little sweet boy is to me, my cuddler, my hugger, the one that always watches his mommy. I'm thinking of the things we can afford for these two, all of the many extras and extra extras we can give them, and how much easier it would be to move.
If nothing else, it would be good to have a few years break between having kids. I'd love to have Will and Katie be a bit older now, I think, before having any others. A wait time before ivf might do good. That's a lot of extra time I get with my current kids and to make lots of fun memories and save up money for the next child/ren.
I can see good in having only two kids, even though my heart mourns to say so. I can see good in waiting to try ivf for another year or two or three. I can see good in taking back my life and starting to really live it again.
I'm going to try, really really try, to be happy again. To fill up my life with fun things, things that make me and my kids smile. I'm going to embrace my small little family like it's the only family we may ever have. I'll still pray that we get our chance to have more. I'll still pray that we get that job we need. I'll still pray that we'll get to have babies that fill our baby names.
But I'm going to calm down. I'm going to breathe. I'm going to still mourn my missing babies, but not try to feel better by rushing to get pregnant. I think a few days ago I shocked myself after realizing that even if I wasn't infertile, I wouldn't want to be getting pregnant right now. I don't think I could mentally handle it. It wouldn't be the time. So why push to ensure ivf so much right now? It's not the time.
This year is about getting our ducks in a row. It's about healing. It's about regrouping, and calming down and just trying to relax. We have a lot of work to do this year, but it'll be done better if it's done without trying to shove more things in it and more emotions driving it.
I pray that 2016 will ease up on my heart and help me to heal and to take it easy. I hope it shows more promise and lets us start seeing our steps fulfilled and our plans going into fruition. Then I hope 2017 will give us our heart's desires and let us start making our big dreams come true. But, one step at a time.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Parting with Baby Items
Today was rough.
It was day #2 of going through baby clothes. 250 little onesies, sleepers, dresses, shirts, hats, teeny tiny socks, overalls and bibs. I sorted them into piles of Girl, Boy, Gender Neutral, Craft and Keep. The Girl, Boy and Gender Neutral ones all had to be buttoned, folded and taken pictures of to sell. It took an hour just to do that part. I filled a tote of my favorite outfits from Will and Katie. I spent about two hours looking into how to make quilts and teddy bears out of them.
Then there was a tiny pile. I allowed myself to keep less than ten outfits. Just the ones I love the most, the ones you don't really see in stores. The ones I would remember were missing if we have another baby. I'll be putting them into a small box, which will get stored in an attic closet. Most likely, they'll sit next to my Arms Reach Cosleeper, which I bargained for at 5 AM before the sun was even up last year, just because I wanted it so much for my next baby. Those two things will probably be all that remains of our baby stash, unless I can allow myself a stroller too. I do love strollers, and I have ones that cost over a thousand dollars individually.
Bringing up the cosleeper makes me sad in another way. I have no drive to go to yard sales anymore. I LOVE yard sales. Every year, I start getting that "itch" in February, that longing to wake up at 4 am each Saturday in April and May, armed with a baggie of quarters and a thin wallet with a few bills. I then spend morning to noon scouting out baby clothes, swings, bouncers, strollers...anything to do with babies or princess or Disney stuff. I then proudly lug it home and look over my little treasures.
No drive this year. No itch or longing. What is there to go for? All the great things I always have on my want list are scratched off, not needed anymore. What's the point?
Instead, this year I'll set up at a few yard sales and be selling those treasures, too many that never got to be used.
It was day #2 of going through baby clothes. 250 little onesies, sleepers, dresses, shirts, hats, teeny tiny socks, overalls and bibs. I sorted them into piles of Girl, Boy, Gender Neutral, Craft and Keep. The Girl, Boy and Gender Neutral ones all had to be buttoned, folded and taken pictures of to sell. It took an hour just to do that part. I filled a tote of my favorite outfits from Will and Katie. I spent about two hours looking into how to make quilts and teddy bears out of them.
Then there was a tiny pile. I allowed myself to keep less than ten outfits. Just the ones I love the most, the ones you don't really see in stores. The ones I would remember were missing if we have another baby. I'll be putting them into a small box, which will get stored in an attic closet. Most likely, they'll sit next to my Arms Reach Cosleeper, which I bargained for at 5 AM before the sun was even up last year, just because I wanted it so much for my next baby. Those two things will probably be all that remains of our baby stash, unless I can allow myself a stroller too. I do love strollers, and I have ones that cost over a thousand dollars individually.
Bringing up the cosleeper makes me sad in another way. I have no drive to go to yard sales anymore. I LOVE yard sales. Every year, I start getting that "itch" in February, that longing to wake up at 4 am each Saturday in April and May, armed with a baggie of quarters and a thin wallet with a few bills. I then spend morning to noon scouting out baby clothes, swings, bouncers, strollers...anything to do with babies or princess or Disney stuff. I then proudly lug it home and look over my little treasures.
No drive this year. No itch or longing. What is there to go for? All the great things I always have on my want list are scratched off, not needed anymore. What's the point?
Instead, this year I'll set up at a few yard sales and be selling those treasures, too many that never got to be used.
Monday, March 7, 2016
The ridding of baby items.
So today, I finally took the plunge and did it...
I sorted through baby clothing to get rid of.
I started with five totes, filled to the brim. Some were Katie's tiny girly clothing that was nothing but clothes in every shade of pink. Another was all of Will's clothes, all of my favorites. There was a gender neutral tote I was saving for baby #3, who was going to be our surprise gender baby. Another that held new baby girl clothing, full of beautiful boutique outfits waiting for the next daughter of my dreams to fill them. Then there were mixed boxes of different sizes and different seasons.
I limited them all down until I had one box that I wouldn't part with. About a third of it was clothing that has such great memories of Katie as a baby. Another third was the same for Will's clothing, all the one that were most memorable. These will be turned into a blanket and teddy bear for each child (and mostly, to be snuggled by me). Then the last third was clothing I couldn't part with, items that I had bought so specifically for the next baby that I couldn't bare to get rid of. They are my last hope of having a baby fill them. I made sure it was only a small amount, but I definitely couldn't limit them.
The other four totes will have pictures taken of them and sold, and that money will go into our IVF hopeful fund.
Tomorrow, I'm hoping to start digging out the strollers, bouncers, swings, and many of the big items we have stashed away for our next. I'll be taking pictures of them and listing them for sale as well.
I feel like each baby item holds a tiny piece of my heart, and selling each one is having a piece of my heart torn. But it makes no sense to hold onto so many items for the next few years. It takes up so much space, and we have no idea if we'll even get to use them again. It's only logical to get rid of what I can bare to part with now and just buy new items if we have the need to. It's just an emotional struggle. It's hard to be logical when your heart is broken. It's hard to think clearly when so many little dreams are dead. It's hard to give away items that were meant for a baby that is no longer here, that only fills my arms by the tiny stuffed animal we bought while pregnant.
Yet in a way, getting rid of baby things protects my heart. To not constantly have that reminder in front of me is a bit of help. To know that there isn't such huge amounts of wasted space, of life on hold, for things that are not being used and may never be used, is a kindness for my overloaded mind that can't handle more sadness.
So today, while I'm miserable and sad and grumpy anyway because I'm on week 6 of being sick (and had to get chest xrays and bloodwork done to check up on the whys of that), I started what I've been so very dreading. I shedded a few tears, cuddled a few fuzzy outfits and blankets, and got a good portion of baby stuff sorted.
With every item I put in the 'get rid of' box, I pray that we'll have another baby. I note my favorite brands or which stores I bought certain pieces at, and pray that I'll be able to go to those stores and buy them again.
I pray that one day, God will see fit to heal my heart and give us another baby that we so desire.
This isn't parting forever, dear baby items, this is just parting for now, I pray.
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