Sunday, May 29, 2011


26 weeks + 1 day, 9 weeks + 3 days post rupture, day 19 at my parent's place.

My parents live in an 80 year old house on a busy street in the centre of our city. It's an awesome neighbourhood, close to everything. Their house is also a duplex, so they rent the upstairs in order to help pay the mortgage. Their old tenants were already living there when my parents bought the place, so my parents never had to advertise for new renters. Thankfully those tenants were wonderful and generally pretty quiet. But, they were a young couple and recently bought their own house. They moved out late February so the upstairs apartment has been empty since then.

All through March and into April my parents worked on updating the upstairs apartment. It was empty and they wanted to 'spruce it up' a bit so they could rent it for more money. They did a lovely job and their new tenants are moving in this weekend.

The new tenants are two young women. They have jobs, cars, are upwardly mobile, and want to live in a part of the city that is great for getting to fun things like clubs, shopping, parks etc.

I watched out the window today as they and their friends and their fathers helped unload stuff from their cars.

They and their friends are bouncing around in tank tops, flip flops and shorts, hauling boxes and carrying stuff up the stairs. I hear them moving around from my bedroom down below. They are excited to be moving into their 'first place!!!'.

Both women are 27.

I'm 28.

I'm on my second high risk pregnancy in just over a year. I am confined to a few rooms in my parent's home. Any muscle tone I had is gone. I have to track down 'babysitters' for myself this week (my mother-in-law? my brother? my best friend? Can you come stay with me?) My husband has to help me shower. I haven't had a hair cut, worn contacts, or put on makeup in months. Haven't had a dental check up in over a year because my pregnancy went to hell just before I was to go, and yesterday I plucked my eyebrows for the first time in weeks.

I wear the ashes of my dead child in a pendant around my neck.

I feel ancient.

By the way, recently my 'blog I follow' list changed itself and now shows photos embedded in the post updates. Just wondering if anyone knows how to get rid of those? Some of you have recently had 'rainbow' babies and while I'm genuinely happy for you, I'm just not up for their general alive-ness assaulting my eyes whenever I sign on to blogger. Thanks to anyone who can help me out with this.


  1. The first thing that came to my mind, and I'm not proud of it, was that those girls may be all carefree and happy now, but who knows what is going to happen to them. They may lose one or more babies in the future. Who knows. It does suck to see other people, especially those so close in age, being so happy with hardly a care in the world.

    Losing a baby certainly makes you feel old. I started getting way more gray hairs after Jacob died. I have more lines on my face. I haven't had a purely good day in a year and I don't see any on the horizon. Maybe within the year if I manage to get pregnant and give birth to a living, healthy baby. Also, in case of a fire, the things I will rescue are the blanket my dead baby was wrapped him and anything else that touched him or has to do with him. I carry around his pictures on a memory stick in my purse at all times in case my house burns down. I'm so scared of losing them.

  2. My blog follow list has been doing the picture thing for a long time so I'm not sure how to change it...

    I remember those days of not being able to take a shower without my husband helping and heck, it only happened like once every 4-5 days. The no muscle tone. No makeup. I promise this too shall pass....Those days feel like years ago and yet I still remember vividly how I felt. Hang in there....

    Praying for the both of you....

  3. I'm 30 but feel like I aged 10 years at least after losing Liam. Grieving is so hard on a person:( I of course haven't been in your scenario but I can only imagine from what you have wrote about.
    I still tend to get a little bitter when I see people that are just so happy and carefree looking.
    Thinking of you

  4. Also 28 and totally exhausted. Tired looking. And I don't want to be assaulted by beautiful babies either. One loss down, hopefully no more in the future for me(us).

    To get rid of photos:

    1. Login to blogger
    2. Go to the Design screen on your dashboard
    3. Click on the gadget on the right you have titled "My Blog List"
    4. UNCLICK thumbnail of most recent item (it must be clicked to allow pictures at this time)
    5. Save, exit window
    6. Save again in the dashboard

    Should do the trick. I hope!

  5. I hope you can get the blogger picture issue fixed..
    Oh to be that age again, so full of everything that slipped away from me the moment I learned my child had died. Everything is so different... wishing you peace...

  6. I have hope for you.
    Espérons pour vous.
    I cheer for every new post you write from your bed!

  7. You are not ancient, you are rich with experience and feeling. I have the same feeling when faced with other women my age, who really have not gone through anything remotely as traumatic as losing a baby, let alone the agony of losing a baby that was incredibly hard to conceive. Eventually people catch up though, misery does not spare anybody. Remember that what you are going through is incredibly hard, and that it will not last forever. One day you will have time to work on your muscles, pluck your eyebrows, and enjoy your body. Right now your body is working hard to protect the pregnancy, and it sounds like it is doing a great job so far.

  8. I know what you are talking about. I had an unexpected pregnancy/loss at 23- I felt ancient compared to my peers, jealous of their innocence. I used the next 10 years to reclaim some of that innocence back, except that it was mixed with something that made me a deeper person (at least, I hope). You will one day wear flip flops and bounce around, except that you will also have something that makes you very special: your children. Hang on, Emily. We're all routing for you and Acorn!