Reflections on the month of May

It’s June already. Another month has gone by without Quinn. Time has gone by painfully slow, yet at the same time, it seems hard to believe it is summertime. Today is my birthday – definitely not how I envisioned my day to be months ago. Today was harder than I expected it to be. I had a good cry on my couch this afternoon for no real reason. I actually couldn’t stop crying for a little while (I’m crying as I type this if I’m being honest). I miss Quinn every day, but sometimes it takes my breath away. This was one of those times. I sat here picturing how things should have been. She should be here, sitting in a rock and play and being the center of attention. Instead, I have a bear with her ashes in it sitting on an end table. I’m writing because the month of May has been hard and I have found myself reflecting on it. Please excuse me if my writing is scattered, my thoughts have been scattered as of late.

May started off with Mother’s Day. I was pretty mum about the day, because frankly, I was choosing to ignore it. There was a commercial that was running around that time that could freeze me in my tracks. It said something along the lines of how your body and your life changes when you are pregnant but it is so worth it. Thanks for that.  I have a daily reminder on my body. I was one of those people who got the dark line on their stomach when pregnant. Four months later it is still there. Now I know some will just say I am over-sensitive to it because I had a loss. You are damn right I am over-sensitive to it. I delivered a lifeless baby; I reserve the right to be sensitive to whatever strikes me. You never know what may trigger you. I mean a Grey’s Anatomy episode made me cry for a solid 2 hours. In any case, I didn’t have strong feelings about Mother’s Day. I had several sweet friends send me cards reminding me I am a mom and several others who sent me texts on that day. As much as I said I didn’t want any sort of acknowledgment that day, it was nice that people did.

I wrote about my multiple doctor’s visits in May. I am certain that the maternal fetal medicine appointment had a lot to do with my wave of emotions. It is hard to hear that the standard of obstetrical care failed you. Just one ultrasound could have changed the course of my pregnancy. I know there is nothing that can be done now, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Knowing that all of this happened with no real reason why makes it scarier. I don’t have a clotting disorder, don’t smoke, didn’t have hypertension, proteinuria, etc. I had bad luck and a crappy placenta. Now I have a heavy heart and a lot to carry on my shoulders.

Then there was the clairvoyant coworker. I was at my casual job back home, minding my business in the supply room. One of the unit’s techs came in and was asking me about where I stay when I’m in town, etc. All of the sudden she says, “you know I couldn’t tell you about death.” Now let me back up a minute. When I was pregnant, before we knew the gender, she told me I was having a boy. After we found out we were having a girl, she goes I must have confused you with Jill (who was also pregnant at the time and later found out was having twin girls). So back to the present day, when she’s telling me she couldn’t tell me about death. I said you knew Quinn was going to die? She goes “I saw black when you were pregnant but I couldn’t tell you that she was going to die and by the way your next baby will be a boy.” I realize how ridiculous this story sounds as I am typing it but it caught me so off guard. Next thing I knew I was standing in my coworker’s room sobbing saying, who says stuff like that? I was telling this story to my friend and she said, “oh yea, I was pulled up to work in your unit 2 weeks after Quinn died and she was telling me that. She said she saw you having a boy not a girl and she knew something bad was going to happen.” My question is, do people not know to keep those crazy things to themselves? I mean even if you truly believe you are some sort of clairvoyant, just keep that shit to yourself.  If I wanted to seek out a medium or a psychic, I would have. I had to spend a few days making myself become a rational human again and telling myself just how outrageous the whole interaction was.

We rounded out the month of May with my husband’s birthday. He and I have one week between our birthdays so we decided to do a weekend trip in Chicago to celebrate. I have to take a minute to say how truly wonderful Chris is. I knew when we met that I had met a really special man. I know that together, we can face anything. He is my whole world and I am so thankful to call him my husband. It was nice to escape from reality for a little and go out of town. Our only trips recently have been to and from our hometown. We stopped at the Notre Dame campus on our way to Chicago and went to the Grotto. We lit 3 candles and said a little something to our Quinny girl. While I wish I was holding my baby, not lighting a candle in her memory, it was a nice moment for Chris and I. We continued on to Chicago and took one of the city boat tours that night. As we were cruising along Lake Michigan, I found myself staring out into the horizon and my mind wandering. Next thing I know I’m crying (thank God it was a sunset tour, I’m fairly used to crying in public these days, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it in the slightest). Thinking, wishing, and wondering-all of these things typically lead into tears-so it’s no surprise anymore.

Our therapist spoke of how grief comes in waves. The waves have been strong lately after receding a little bit in April. I imagine that this summer will be filled with a lot of these waves since I found out I was pregnant June 30, 2015. Then will come all the milestones we hit, hearing her heartbeat for the first time (which is still on my phone), our first ultrasound, etc. I have been feeling a little bit isolated lately; it’s hard to put my thoughts and feelings into words and have them make sense/feel as though they are understood. I guess I just have to ride the waves…