tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9368202097759314812011-09-03T11:07:43.276-07:00Somewhere to talk about my son's life and death inside me, our life without him, and our new life as we are expecting his brother.Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.comBlogger641100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-27925285892975338942010-11-02T10:07:00.000-07:002010-11-02T10:28:48.127-07:00

Your brother is here, safe and whole and alive. He's so beautiful, I find I can spend hours just watching the tiny flickers of expression that cross his face while he sleeps. It's overwhelming. He was born on October 29th, all 8 lbs 9 oz of him. It was a very difficult labor and birth, but I've been recovering very well--we even left the hospital a day early (which, after a cesarean, is

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-88776825978899224162010-10-20T12:26:00.000-07:002010-10-20T12:36:24.418-07:00

I've been terribly neglectful towards you lately. And I really have no excuse; I got pulled off of work a month ago for rising blood pressure (which, magically, lowered when I was no longer stressed out and running around on my feet 8-9 hours a day). I'm on "modified bed rest" which just means staying off my feet as much as possible. It is terrifically boring at times, although it's nice to

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-75601987000447777232010-08-31T15:50:00.000-07:002010-08-31T15:57:09.703-07:00

I miss you so much today. I got diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes today, which doesn't surprise me. My pregnancy with your brother has been endlessly difficult; from Hyperemesis Gravidarum to early Braxton Hicks to the pain in my hips and back, not to even mention all the fear and pain and anxiety that he'd be with you instead of with us. That's still there actually.I try so hard to be bright

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-42433321545786993752010-08-17T17:47:00.000-07:002010-08-17T17:50:02.433-07:00

I just noticed that all of the bookmark buttons across the top of my internet window have shifted. For the past year, they've been an assortment of support sites, blogs and message boards. Now, there's a mix of news blogs and baby- and birth-related links.I don't really know how I feel about you being farther and farther from me. We've scheduled our hospital tour, we're filling out birth plans

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-74863529090003758882010-08-09T16:46:00.000-07:002010-08-09T16:46:57.837-07:00

I found this Google ad, and it's so cute and sweet it made me tear up the whole time. Happy tears. But then it gave me the creeps.It's the way the babies stop crying and there's silence and then the dad types "How soon can we try again?" I know it's just supposed to be sweet and happy, and that having these babies makes him so happy he just wants more. I know, I get it. But seriously, the

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-8688891328673735442010-08-07T13:41:00.001-07:002010-08-07T13:54:47.030-07:00

So I feel like a terrible mother to you. I didn't have anything to write on your birthday. I haven't had anything to write since then either. It isn't like I don't think of you, or don't care. It's just...I don't even know what to say. Your brother is taking up more and more space in my body, and the farther along we get with him, the more he is moving to the center of our world. And I feel

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-73385968175230501482010-06-03T14:30:00.001-07:002010-06-03T14:30:35.685-07:00

I still miss you, blackbird.

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-21353959248232194032010-05-31T20:17:00.000-07:002010-05-31T21:05:32.267-07:00

I had kind of a revelation lately. Perhaps it would better be described as a crystallization of thoughts. I finally feel like I understand why your Daddy didn't want to see you when you were born, and still doesn't want to see the pictures.He was always up front. He didn't want to see. We made absolutely certain his wishes were clear and respected. When you were born, he was standing

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-23220141423769167442010-05-28T21:24:00.000-07:002010-05-28T22:01:43.756-07:00

Sometimes I think I'm doing this wrong.Lately, in the weeks since your brother has become stronger and more active, as we are less and less worried about the defect that hurt you so badly, we are starting to become attached to this tiny manchild that still makes me throw up on a regular basis. This is still a very different pregnancy. I was trying to put it into words with Daddy today. It's as

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-17538610969105928122010-05-17T13:44:00.001-07:002010-05-17T13:59:42.235-07:00

I feel like I should apologize. So much has happened and I've neglected this blog. I talk to you often, but I don't sit and organize my thoughts the way I should. Plus, there's that beautiful kitchen...If I had "before" pictures I'd share them, but that damn kitchen was so hideous I never bothered.But so much more than that has happened. We had the next ultrasound, and found that your

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-17680060682242510442010-05-07T20:04:00.000-07:002010-05-07T20:21:28.454-07:00

I haven't posted in a while because I've completely involved myself in remodeling the kitchen. Well, remodel is probably the wrong word. Cleaning and repainting and refinishing the cupboards and adding a wallpaper border...it's been a lot of work. For two weeks our kitchen has mostly been in the living room and the kitchen itself has been covered in newspaper, drop cloths and blue tape. It's

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-87753515332938944832010-04-19T18:34:00.000-07:002010-04-19T18:38:17.265-07:00

I am so exhausted from all of the emotion of the day that I'm not giving this a proper post here. I will. But things are looking good. We saw arms and legs and fingers and everything we should see, where it should be. The bones aren't calcified enough to show up well, so that will be next time. But from what we could see...everything looks...normal.

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-61718148949924824202010-04-19T12:52:00.000-07:002010-04-19T13:03:11.377-07:00

The first big ultrasound is today.I feel completely outside myself today. Work was normal--I was my bright, cheery self. Got everything done that I needed to, and now that I'm home I am getting housework done. (Not at the moment, obviously, but I'll be back to it soon). And I feel like I'm just standing next to this bustling, smiley person. I feel nothing. Barely even a stab. I can't even

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-39048953459491636132010-04-13T12:21:00.001-07:002010-04-13T12:38:48.922-07:00

I'm feeling anxious about the new baby today. This is the week that it's fingers and toes should separate, assuming it has any. Next week we'll have another ultrasound--the first one where we play Lets Count The Bones.I'm terrified.I don't know why it's upsetting me right now. Especially since fingers and toes are actually the smallest part of our worries. Weird, to live in a world where we

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-44897799736472656082010-04-06T12:54:00.000-07:002010-04-06T19:50:01.261-07:00

I've been having a crying jag today. They don't happen very often anymore. Weeks at a time can go by, and they usually go as fast as they come. At least I had some warning this one was coming. The last big cry was when I showed Daddy the movie An American Tale. At the end, (and yes, Mommy is going to spoil the ending because you're a smart boy and you would figure it out in seconds) when the

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-70094967545815541222010-04-04T20:37:00.000-07:002010-04-04T20:43:17.857-07:00

I really miss you today. We don't really celebrate Easter much, but we probably would have if you were here. Instead I'm nauseous and tired and impatient. I have been sort of curling in on myself these few weeks. I just can't seem to manage being social and talkative. I'm fine with your Daddy, but otherwise I just tend to be more quiet than anyone would expect of me. I'm not writing much

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-90736402212863240592010-03-30T20:14:00.000-07:002010-03-30T20:20:05.783-07:00

Yesterday I went to bed at 11 in the morning and didn't get up until this morning at 3. Granted, I woke up every few hours or so. But it was a sick day; I threw up several times and had a screaming headache--and kept throwing up the Tylenol. The only thing I could bear was lying still in a dark and quiet room. So I did. Better today; by the afternoon I was eating normally again. Felt like

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-64730603755324687942010-03-26T15:22:00.000-07:002010-03-26T15:33:15.293-07:00

I'm doing much better. As long as I take my meds on time I don't throw up and can even eat fairly normally. I'm still nauseous most of the time, but it's doable. But I get the feeling that a couple people I work with think I was faking it to get extra days off. This. Makes. Me. Angry. I can't help that the morning sickness came on fast and furious. And I should think people would be glad

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-14418812761742567122010-03-20T10:53:00.000-07:002010-03-20T10:57:44.835-07:00

So far I haven't thrown up since leaving the hospital. I've kept down a bit of solid food and am no longer feeling about to die. I'm a long way from well but seem to be mending a little. Hoping this trend continues.

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-39157227857808882482010-03-19T11:59:00.000-07:002010-03-19T12:14:55.705-07:00

We had to go to the hospital for fluids last night. It wasn't as bad as I feared; I actually took the IV needle like a champ. Which is amazing, given that I cried and delayed for an hour when I had to get the IV when you were born. Granted, that was a pretty different situation, but it was a more normal reaction for me! I was in the hospital for four hours, dripping away on the IV with your

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-32100643781353209352010-03-17T18:38:00.001-07:002010-03-17T18:54:23.880-07:00

This has become a survival situation.I don't know how I can possibly be this ill and weak and still be vaguely functional. I'm still going to work, but I'm throwing up almost every hour, if not more often. By the end of my shift I am so weak and shaky I can barely drive home. Once I'm home, I sleep until Daddy gets home from work, simply because I can't do anything else. When he gets home I

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-10974853010185027582010-03-14T16:17:00.000-07:002010-03-14T16:35:34.606-07:00

I wasn't going to tell very many people, but I'm pregnant again.Of course our little family knows, and a very small handful of friends. That was all we planned to tell until we knew if this little one is going to stay. I hid it pretty well for the first couple weeks.But this one won't be hidden away. Aside from a couple of people who have actually looked at me and guessed, the morning sickness

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-91513428825031904522010-03-07T16:46:00.000-08:002010-03-07T16:58:22.473-08:00

Happy Oscar Day, little man.I guess that might need some explaining. See, the Oscars are like the Superbowl for people who love movies. And I love me some movies. I've been completely fascinated by movies for as long as I can remember. I was writing screenplays in my head since childhood, absorbed in behind-the-scenes stuff. I've made a few small things--back in college I used to run the "TV

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-9337559749281879792010-02-12T18:10:00.001-08:002010-02-12T18:12:31.989-08:00

I had to share this beautiful email from your Grandma P.I wanted to tell you of a little project I’m working on. I was cleaning out my desk a few weeks ago and I found a little frame in the 18th century style that I’d been planning on using for something or other. So I am doing a tiny little life-sized Isaac footprint to go in it, with your initials and Chip’s and the date. I brought his little

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-75186002243769123772010-02-06T20:03:00.000-08:002010-02-06T20:33:39.165-08:00

You would not believe how many killer fetus movies there are on Netflix. Really, I was not aware that this was an entire subgenre of horror. But here we are sitting down to the 2008 film (I use the term "film" loosely) It's Alive. So far it's about a woman who was six months pregnant when she took part in some kind of science-y study and her baby became full term literally in one day and was

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-18098542702424962572010-02-04T18:15:00.000-08:002010-02-04T18:43:24.634-08:00

Silly little thing. There's a facebook meme going on, where you are supposed to look up your own name on Urbandictionary.com and post the meaning. (By the way, if you have internet access up there, Mommy and Daddy probably would rather you not spend much time on that site; it's kind of messed up.)I looked up your name and it made me smile: Isaac: means "One who makes me laugh" or "laughter".

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-6754581159696498762010-01-30T18:25:00.000-08:002010-01-30T18:46:04.241-08:00

I don't talk much about us trying again. Not here. It has felt...disrespectful? Disloyal? Not so much to talk about it or think about it--because really, it's in my thoughts damn near constantly, right next to you and I talk about it sort of obsessively. Luckily your daddy is both patient and adept at filtering out my monologue when it doesn't really matter if he's listening.But this has

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-81724419098922629582010-01-27T14:14:00.001-08:002010-01-27T14:37:53.818-08:00

Missing you just now. No particular reason, except maybe because I'm watching an episode of Penn & Teller's Bullshit about the death industry. I've only dealt with them once, and that was when my grandmother died. I was lucky I didn't have to do anything for you--the hostpital took care of all the "arrangements."I have your ashes still. Your daddy and I have finally decided what we're going

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-8450929457725070722010-01-21T14:33:00.000-08:002010-01-21T14:51:14.479-08:00

She would call when I'm having the first good solid sloppy wet cry in months.So we have an appointment next Thursday. I'm letting your Daddy do at least some of the talking--he hasn't made any calls because he's too mad.Naturally, now I can't get back to crying. And I could really use it today--that release. It shakes loose the tension I carry. It took me hours of staring moodily at YouTube

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-32742693112901110302010-01-21T14:06:00.000-08:002010-01-21T14:09:01.867-08:00

Just argh.Called to make an appointment with the Genetic Counselor. The same GC who hasn't called us since October. The same GC I've left three messages with this month. The woman I talked to promised she was pulling my chart and I'd get a call by today at 5. We shall see.I have a handful of song lyrics and interesting quotes I want to share with you, but right now I'm so busy being angry and

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-14899343785905789392010-01-19T14:09:00.001-08:002010-01-19T14:23:08.169-08:00

It's my birthday, and I kind of keep forgetting. For once, it isn't because of you--it's because my birthday got so completely overshadowed by Bitchmas last weekend. And that isn't a complaint.Since you never got to go to one I'll explain Bitchmas. Just in case you were off playing in the stars or watching over your grandparents or playing with Layla's new baby brother or something. See, your

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-48481718823716384522010-01-15T10:32:00.000-08:002010-01-15T10:37:57.358-08:00

More new babies, and none for us yet. Now there's a new baby cousin, and today I got to hear all about the new baby somebody's wife is laboring with now.Joy.And on top of it, somebody misunderstood my facebook post welcoming the new cousin and thought it was our baby, and congratulated me.I am so burned out from a week of this. And still, I'm putting forth the effort to make sure my coworker's

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-57431510885916706072010-01-11T18:37:00.000-08:002010-01-11T19:23:12.051-08:00

Today was difficult. The other girl at work who was pregnant while I was carrying you had her baby this morning. And since I was on the register, I was the one taking all the congratulations for her. I had no idea how stressful that would be. I thought it would hurt--and it did--but mostly I felt like an overcoiled spring. I worked through it; no one noticed, and only one person thought to

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-11487955540262297842010-01-07T11:37:00.001-08:002010-01-07T11:50:21.440-08:00

So much for being funnier, I guess. Today I just feel lousy. It doesn't help that I have a cold, and this is one of those weeks where I don't get a day off. I'm feeling bitter and dark and resentful about everything at the moment--just irritable and grumpy and down. I've been having all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. For example, I've been feeling like the only thing about you that you got

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-84032639712372056112010-01-02T13:13:00.000-08:002010-01-02T13:20:49.217-08:00

I saw a baby that looked like I'd picture you at about 10 months. You wouldn't be that age yet, but it's my emotional projecting, so to hell with it. It was hard for a few minutes. That doesn't happen much these days. It made me reflective for a few hours. It's funny. The babies I see that remind me of you often don't look much like you at all. And if I want to essentially see pictures of

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-34183891656890160572009-12-30T15:02:00.000-08:002010-01-19T14:31:03.901-08:00

I haven't written much lately. I've tried to get caught up in the Christmas spirit, but this year no one really seemed to feel it. Myself included. We all wanted to just get it over with. Everyone was happy to see each other, but we all spoke of our relief that the season was ending.Part of it is not having you here, at least for your Daddy and me. It's hard, with so many new and

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-20995247314969227402009-12-08T14:09:00.000-08:002009-12-08T14:13:10.908-08:00

Sometimes missing you is almost more than I can stand. Today was one of those days. I had to work, so of course I had my perky groove on. But I wasn't really there. I was distracted and clumsy, and on every break I would sit in my car, unable to cry, rocking back and forth and whimpering to myself.I want my baby now.I want my son.Really, jokes over. I want my son back now.I can't stand this.

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-40884049132740811032009-12-02T13:38:00.000-08:002009-12-02T13:56:53.484-08:00

I've been missing you a lot this week. Part of it is the miscarriage. I don't really feel right saying "your brother or sister" about it anymore, because really, I don't feel like I lost another baby. There wasn't a person there. Not like with you. You had so much personality even in that short time we were together. You liked riding in the car--you'd always bounce around, especially if I

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-19441039841598463132009-11-27T17:20:00.000-08:002009-11-27T17:24:36.675-08:00

It looks like we've lost your brother or sister. I woke up this morning and my first thought was that I didn't feel sick today. The spotting had already started. I went to the doctor and they did an ultrasound, where they showed the new baby was measuring at 4 weeks instead of 5 and a half, which makes a big difference very early on. It's gotten worse and it's pretty clear this one isn't

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-1415766197139082842009-11-26T22:01:00.000-08:002009-11-26T22:36:13.256-08:00

Today was strange. Wonderful, but strange. We had a quiet family thanksgiving dinner with our family, then a raucous dinner with friends. At both places, people talked about you, asked about you, said they were sorry you were gone. We're so incredibly lucky--everyone has been very supportive. We decided that we didn't want to act like you never were. We talk about you often, and pretty much

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-20100883456661696902009-11-11T21:33:00.000-08:002009-11-11T21:38:24.622-08:00

Mommy and Daddy got swine flu.That? Sucked. It's the first thing I'm not sorry you missed. It feels like being the butt of a cosmic joke, because we were exposed to the virus over the weekend of your memorial. That stings. Especially since I got the H1N1 vaccination two weeks before that--shortlisted because I was listed as pregnant. Didn't do me much good, unless it made the sickness

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-21238487003804923522009-11-05T14:33:00.000-08:002009-11-05T14:34:10.196-08:00

You should have been born this week, and that makes me think a lot about the birth you had. It's hard to talk about even now.We left for the city early--a two and a half hour drive. Our mothers were in one car, and your Daddy and I were in another. We listened to a book on tape--Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince--because music was too exhausting for me. The drive is a blur. I remember I

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-67973941599728339952009-11-03T10:28:00.000-08:002009-11-03T10:54:29.988-08:00

You should be here today.I should be inside, keeping the house warmer than it probably needs to be. I should be crying because I still can't get you to latch on right, and carefully sitting on a doughnut pillow, trying not to worry about the couch. Your Daddy should be holding you with more confidence today. He should be looking at you with that adoring gaze that, until now, only I've gotten.

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-82801189646312078692009-10-24T23:36:00.000-07:002009-10-24T23:37:23.740-07:00

My body is still making milk for you. It blows my mind. You died more than three months ago. And I've made milk for you every day since you were born. Not much; not more than a few drops each day. I'm glad. I actually check almost every day to see if it's still coming. It feels like the only tie I have to you--the only proof you were real. It reminds me that it's okay that I'm still sad.

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-66266390114302030202009-10-23T18:31:00.000-07:002009-10-23T18:57:18.397-07:00

I wish I could hold you one more time. I remember so clearly how your little head fit into my hand. I wish I had held you longer. I wish I had kissed you more. I wish I could be in that moment where the world stood still and it was just you and me. It was only a few minutes, but it was ours. Today I printed out all the pictures I have of you to put in your baby book. I've spent all day

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-24762829679062796172009-10-20T16:06:00.001-07:002009-10-20T16:25:48.504-07:00

Planning your memorial is so hard. Your daddy and I just can't seem to pull it all together. There aren't many guests coming, and we know no one is expecting anything of us. But nothing feels quite right. And so many odd little obstacles keep cropping up. Enough money, enough time...and we're both just dragging our feet over everything. Can't get the rocket ordered, don't have time to build

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-83703793965048574522009-10-08T11:22:00.000-07:002009-10-08T11:33:42.207-07:00

I can't be sad. I was the top seller in my district two days ago. I worked yesterday morning, then ran errands, came home and cleaned the house, made vegetable soup and bread from scratch, ironed your Daddy's clothes for tomorrow, spent some time with both your grandmothers. I can't be sad. I slept in today, woke up with the cat sprawled across me, purring for all she's worth. The sky is

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-39917303813450236872009-09-28T18:52:00.000-07:002009-09-30T17:11:20.015-07:00

I haven’t been able to write, because I haven’t been able to feel. For the past few weeks I’ve felt numb. Detached, dazed, unable to accept the reality of what has happened. Perhaps I’ve helped this dreamy unreality by self medicating. Perhaps not; when I’ve gone days at a time without I feel no more attached to the world than when I’m floating above it. I’d also put forth the argument that

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-73679808719505513612009-09-15T18:28:00.001-07:002009-09-15T19:11:35.321-07:00

Two months ago today you died. Two months ago tomorrow you were born. These are facts I can never quite reconcile.All day long there's been a thrumming undercurrent. Two months. Two months. Its been so little time, but it feels like a hundred years ago. It feels like you never were. It feels like you still are. I feel outside myself.I almost never admit how hard every minute is. Even to

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-92129004795316823742009-09-13T18:08:00.001-07:002009-09-13T18:19:14.797-07:00

I've rediscovered one of my favorite composers today: Erik Satie. His stuff feels like the musical expression of how I feel about Isaac. I'm linking videos here (I picked ones specifically for their imagery).

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-88270227321044470662009-09-09T18:21:00.000-07:002009-09-09T18:22:26.008-07:00

I want to write about your birth, but that also means writing about your death. I haven’t been able to talk about those last precious moments with you. Only to your daddy and your grandmas. And even then, only a little, always with careful euphemism. I’ve sat down here just so I can write about that day, and I find I’m surfing to other websites, looking out the window, suddenly becoming

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-91110009885026554112009-09-08T07:21:00.000-07:002009-09-08T07:27:05.804-07:00

Going to work is harder with you gone. For so many reasons. Surprisingly, dealing with customers doesn't make it worse--even when I have to explain what happened. That's healing in it's way; not talking about you is harder. Its the little things I miss. Not just your movements inside me, not just having a reason to sing under my breath when I'm working. Sometimes it feels like there's no

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-19956610023864380582009-09-02T17:45:00.000-07:002009-09-02T18:33:31.322-07:00

We're starting to plan a little memorial for you. Nothing big like at the wedding. Just a few people--maybe just us. Don't know yet. We want to take your ashes to the beach. They look like beach sand. Your daddy wants to set off fireworks. They're special.This fourth of july, just a week or so away from losing you, we set off fireworks in the driveway. The first loud one made you jump,

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-20305239989505290982009-08-28T09:00:00.000-07:002009-08-28T09:44:31.145-07:00

We called you Kicker before you had a name. Its funny, because we had a girl's name picked out before we tried to make you. But not a name for a boy. Your daddy was named after his father and grandfather, so I had thought a son would be another Edward. But your daddy did not want you to be "the fourth." Your daddy has never gone by his "real" name in his life--he's always been Chip. Like

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-54308107392262917692009-08-26T16:01:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:04:23.534-07:00

I haven't been able to write. I can't find words these last few days. I wanted to post happy memories of my pregnancy, inspired to do so by a post on a support board. I still want to write about your birth. I want to write so much but none of the words will come. No words today, no tears either; even going to my Make-Me-Cry playlist hasn't eased this. I hurt, but mostly I just feel tired

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-86450211954985797082009-08-14T19:25:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:03:26.475-07:00

I got a letter today. A bland, unemotional letter from the hospital, that blandly, unemotionally told me that your ashes are ready to be picked up. I didn't see it coming; somebody told me that I'd get a phone call when I could bring you home. I made up a story about how it would be; it would probably come while I was at work and that would suck and would I need to go home etc. etc. etc. I

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-85384028267209269112009-08-11T13:51:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:07:21.272-07:00

Today is hard. It isn't any special day. I don't know why. I'm so angry, and so sad, and so very lonely.I never had something so bad happen that couldn't be fixed. It isn't like I lived some charmed, pain-free life. Far from it. Lots of terrible, painful things have happened in my life. I've mourned, I've grieved, I've cried, I've learned...but all of it was something I could "get better"

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-66484856918090777522009-07-29T15:51:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:06:47.826-07:00

I can't quite process that the wedding is on Saturday (and everything needs to be done and ready by friday). Finding joy in being a bride to be is a challenge when I'm no longer a mother to be as well. Stranger in a strange land. Wound up talking to some woman in the wedding aisle at Michael's. She was shopping for last minute wedding things too. I managed not to blurt out anything about the

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-62730358775625190202009-07-27T16:40:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:06:59.484-07:00

I had to make myself cry. The numbness was so complete, so aching that I had to do something to bring that pain forward. I listened to one of the songs I've been trying to avoid and cried so hard I was almost afraid neighbors, strangers walking down the street would hear. It hurt, oh god it hurt, but it hurt with a kind of purity I needed. I needed the tears, needed the choking sobs, needed

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-1358498853766870912009-07-26T23:09:00.001-07:002009-08-28T10:06:02.286-07:00

I can't sleep tonight. I've been lying in bed for two hours, staring at the television but not actually watching it, listening to your father sleeping peacefully beside me. My loneliness is the only thing awake aside from me. Took a sleeping pill a minute ago, and I'm hoping that might help. Now that I'm home again the pain is back; the visit to the hotel was like a step out of time. An eye

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-71758230756543929612009-07-26T01:11:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:03:05.148-07:00

It isn't always bad. There are times, like now, where I feel like my soul is at peace. Today I have felt more peaceful, more...content than I have been since I held you. Its the first day I've felt like I could actually live the rest of my life. I miss you still, but I know you're in a happy place. I can feel you near me. Moments like these are when I think you'd want me to live and be

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-84650110289801525172009-07-25T16:51:00.000-07:002009-08-28T09:59:34.403-07:00

I keep finding myself standing in front of the mirror--in front of anything that holds a reflection--staring into my own eyes, trying to find myself again. I don't know who I am now; I'm a mother but there's no baby. I'm still a little bit pregnant, but there's no baby. I'm still alive, but there's no baby. I can't process it. I can't make it make sense. When you came into my life you

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-33049480449015462352009-07-23T17:28:00.000-07:002009-08-28T10:05:27.982-07:00

I worked on Monday. The 13th, the first day of my life, the last day of my life. I was at work well before dawn, singing softly to you while I set up the pastry case, swaying and feeling you kick your good mornings. I was so excited. I already knew you were a boy--I was already calling you Isaac. Somehow the moment we chose your name--the moment you somehow told us your name--I knew you were

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936820209775931481.post-50779838377517941032009-07-23T17:09:00.000-07:002009-08-28T09:45:56.880-07:00

There aren't any words. Where would I even start? I feel so empty without my son inside me. I miss feeling his kicks. He was so active all the time, and now there's nothing. I hurt to hold him, but my arms are empty. All that's left are pictures and memories and tears. I want my life back--but the life I want back stopped existing the moment we found out he wasn't staying. I feel like the

Abigail W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05704508393023579724noreply@blogger.com0