11 years in

as of November 2011, jeff and i have owned our home 11 years. as of January 29, 2012, jeff has been employed by LANL for 11 years.

it is the longest i have ever spent in one place in my entire life, and it doesn't even seem like 11 years is that long. i am happy here. this is the house my babies came home to (the house i would happily have given birth to them in). this is the house my children are growing up in. we hope, one of these days, to put on an addition to give us all a little more space. i'd rather go through the pain and torture of an addition than moving. though sometimes i wish we could move to another house just to have a reason to **purge** the contents of this one.

i spent part of today at a birthday party for a wonderful 8 yo boy who is a friend of nate's. while i was there the mother of the birthday boy, asked if i had met that mom over there. i said, yes, we work in proximity to each other, and her child goes to the same school as nate. later another mom came in that i knew, and i went to talk with her. the birthday boy's mother was surprised that i knew her, too. i also knew the one dad who came to drop off/pick up his son.

the birthday boy's mother was surprise that i knew so many of the other parents, esp in light of an earlier conversation we had about the people i know who had all recently moved to the same street she lives on.

i said, this is what happens when you have lived in a town for 11 years.

i'm not sure when it happened exactly. the number of people i know has obviously grown over time; it was by no means overnight. and it even stalled a bit in the time around jesper's death. but yes, i can attest to the fact that if you live somewhere long enough, you will eventually know a whole lot of people who live in the same town. and they will know you, by name if nothing else. 

i guess time flies when you are building a life and a home and a family. 11 years flies right by without a thought.

strange place

it is so hard to believe that 8 years is coming up in less than 2 weeks. it simply does not seem possible that Jesper has been gone that long, even though all of the evidence points clearly to the truth of it.

we failed again this year to get the missing angels bill passed. not only failed, but didn't even make it out of the first committee. regardless of what anyone thinks or says, i feel like it is my fault. i got very nervous and didn't present our case very clearly at all. not sure i answered questions right. i feel guilty. it is the only time i've ever had to do it alone. without Carin. and i feel like i let her down in a huge way. as i watched in absolute horror, the bill was blithely tabled as if it effected no one. i was distraught enough to make the governor's security detail nervous when i went up to see Keith after the committee meeting. i'm still pissed. i'm growing to very much dislike some of the legislators who are elected to office in this state. so much changed this year, too. new governor. new sponsor. and very soon a new representative. i won't quit, but i can't say i'm going to come out of the other side of this process with the same faith in people i had before.

this #8 feels odd for other reasons, too. Willow is starting to talk about Jesper a lot. we talk about how he is and always will be a baby. and of course babies need to have nur-nur (that's what she calls nursing). sometimes she will tell me that Jesper nur-nur's on her "ipple." i gently correct her and say that he was her brother. that someday she will nur-nur her own babies on her ipple, but that he is my baby.

three seems to be the popular number around here these days. feels like everyone either has 3, is having #3, or wants 3. sometimes i want 3, too. or is it that i just want #1 back, so that my set of 3 is complete? either way, it is a tiny stab of hurt when someone else has 3, and i have to learn to live with my incomplete set.

in january, my friend and midwife, Jinny died from cancer. she was a wonderful, amazing, strong, vibrant, funny, profound woman. i'm so glad that two of my babies were cared for by her. i feel blessed and privileged. i will miss her; i'm not alone in that, though. i miss her a lot right now in a way that probably not too many share with me.

since it is april, Jesper is on my mind and my heart a great deal right now. i'm reliving the last days and weeks of my pregnancy and his life. this is nothing new. i do it every year. tied in with my thoughts of him, however, are thoughts of the others involved in this little drama. Jinny, Sonja, Jeff, my parents, and so on. there aren't too many people in the world who knew Jesper. Jinny and Sonja are really the only ones other than Jeff and i who interacted with him on a regular basis. and now one of the few is gone, too. that hurts. in missing him, i miss her. in missing her, i miss him. he seems somehow diminished on this earth because there is one less person who remembers him with me.

one thing is constant, though. every year rolls by without fail. and every year brings me to a new place.

do i O-ffend??

apparently, i do.

october is not just about breast cancer awareness. it is also about pregnancy, infant, and child loss awareness. october 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day (though i think the name has actually been changed).

this year, i joined a movement called "I am the face." i love this movement because it really does put a face on miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss. mine. i am proud to be my son's mother. i am honored that he chose me. i cannot imagine my life without him in it. i cannot imagine my family without him in it. and, more importantly, i wouldn't want to. in honor of *i am the face,* on october 15th i made HIS face my profile picture on facebook. it wasn't the first time i have put his face forward in that venue. it won't be the last.

part of my goal after Jesper's death has been to make it okay for women to "grieve out loud." no one should have to walk this torturous path alone. no one should have to hide this kind of loss. it should not be shameful. it should not be a secret. the best likeness i have found is the one to cancer. it used to be that people whispered "cancer" for fear of it coming home to themselves. we all know that is a superstition. whispering it doesn't keep it at bay. the same thing is done with the loss of a pregnancy or child. it is spoken of in whispered, hushed voices for fear of it happening to yourself. but what is the actual effect of keeping it secret, whispering of our loss, for the sake of superstition? it makes it shameful. this one thing that we often have so little control of, that doctors are often so clueless about, this miracle that is life. a pregnancy doesn't always mean a baby growing up in your home; that is a fact of life.

it is a natural inclination, to keep a loss to yourself. it hurts, and sometimes it seems easier to not put that pain out in the wind for everyone to see and comment about. to suffer in silence. silence is encouraged by medical professionals. "brush it off. it happens all the time. try again. have another." they belittle the loss and the pain and the impact.

unfortunately, this problem, this issue, isn't going to go away anytime soon. death is a part of life. death after a long, happy life. death in the middle of a full life. and death before life has even really begun. they are all a part of the process.

"death comes for us all. even for kings he comes." (robert bolt)

but none of those things i *know* make it easier to cope with the death of my son. they have not made the last 7 years hurt less.

i have previously been thanked for making my grief so public. it has made it okay for someone else to grieve their loss. it has broken the silence for more than just myself.

this time around, i apparently offended a few people.

in the past, in a setting where i know there are pregnant ladies who don't know me, i have not gone out of my way to make a big deal out of my loss. i want people to be aware that it can happen; i don't want to freak people out. it is a delicate balance.

i say, "who don't know me" because i kind of figure if you've known me for a while, you know my history, it shouldn't freak you out. aware, yes. scared, no. i've always said, "there things you can do to prevent it. you should know the facts. don't be complacent."

recently, someone that i know "unfriended" me on facebook. i sent her a message asking what happened. she wrote back telling me that the problem was my profile picture, which *that day* (oct. 15) i happened to have changed to Jesper's picture. but she had unfriended me days or even weeks before that. she said she is having a hard pregnancy and she needs to keep negativity and pain away from her to make it through. she is someone that i don't really know that well. so be it. i let it go. i also let go the time lapse between being unfriended, posting Jesper's picture, and then using it as the reason.

it bothered me that she also mentioned the impact his picture and my loss was having on my pregnant friend[s]. either she was hiding behind the royal "we" or there was more than one person, and they had been comparing notes. there is only one person (that i know of) who is also currently pregnant that we have in common, so i sent a message to that other person asking if everything was ok between us.

she wrote me back a very long, well-worded, heart-felt message about the difficult pregnancy she is coping with and how she needs to keep to herself to keep other people's stress and problems away from herself. it is insulating; they are both doing it. it is a legitimate form of protecting yourself from the world around you.

i understand a scary, stressful pregnancy probably better than most. i get it. i know plenty of women who take the world's problems on themselves. they read "what to expect . . . " and think each of those things *is* going to happen to them. they can't let themselves get a doppler because every time they use it and don't find baby's heartbeat right away they would panic. there are definitely two kinds of people in this manner, and i am not that kind. i don't know how i would have survived nate and willow if i had been that kind of person. instead i have been gifted with the ability to compartmentalize other people's problems. "that isn't the issue that is affecting me." i do it with information. it is another form of insulating.

the difference is that i can hear another's issues and not take them on myself. they, apparently, cannot even hear the problems to begin with because they can't compartmentalize after the fact. so be it. i can't control them or their reactions. i can't determine how they are going to deal with information. and there in lies one of my problems with the whole situation.

**i can't control how they are going to react to things.** so does that mean i am supposed to change my actions or words for them? they are only two. they do not outnumber the ones who have given thanks for the ability to grieve out loud. while i don't want to go out of my way to hurt my friends, i'm not okay with the end result of their request. they are asking me to keep it a secret. to whisper it in their presence. they are telling me it is not okay to grieve out loud. not only am i the face, but mine is the voice. i will not, should not, cannot keep it a secret.

i consider Jesper's picture a part of it all. i am proud of my son. i am so proud that i don't think displaying his picture is wrong. he is my son; it is my picture. it happens to be one of the few pictures i have of him. i display his pictures the same way i display pictures of nate and willow. i am equally proud and honored to be nate and willow's mom. to me they are no different. they are all my babies. they are all beautiful and magical. they have all made me the mom and woman i am today. i would not change their existence for my life. i would and will defend them all equally.

what eats at me the most about the email from my friend is the judgement in it. she doesn't feel it is *appropriate* for me to use Jesper's picture because it disturbs people. it bothers her, but it also bothers her friends and family who see my comments on her posts or even her friends' posts. it effects people who have suffered a loss of their own and who are having a very hard time coping with it. i am not sorry for putting his face up on facebook. i do not think it is inappropriate for me to display his picture.

"my job is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable."

i live by the idea that if you don't live in my house, you don't get a vote. i give it out as advice all the time to people who ask how to handle unsolicited advice on a number of topics. basically, you have to do what you feel is right for you, for your children, for your family, for your home. those not directly involved don't get a say in what happens in your home. well, these two don't get a vote. i have to do what i feel is best for my family and for the goals that have become ours since Jesper's death. they don't get to pass judgement on my life.

[if i regret anything at all, it is hurting those who have suffered too. but to them i would say, "let it out." find someone to talk to. don't keep it in. it festers. it infects. it only makes it more difficult to cope when you do it in secret, in silence.]

more than one person would say they are not asking me to keep it a secret, they are simply asking me not to talk about it around them. but that is basically a case of "not in my backyard." if i let one person shut me up, then i might as well let every person shut me up. it isn't like they don't know me. they've heard about Jesper at times other than when they were pregnant. i wasn't asked to keep silent then, only now because they are pregnant. so if talking about it and seeing his picture bothers them, does seeing me bother them? aren't *i* a reminder of him and what happened? does my mere presence in the room make them uncomfortable?

death is not a comfortable subject, especially the death of a child. but it is my reality. i don't ask them to not talk about their reality, so how is it okay for them to ask it of me? Jesper is not the only topic i ever talk about. as moms, we talk about anything from baby poo to the color of the sky. we have lively and rich and informative discussions. i don't throw my loss in people's faces, but i don't shy away from saying i have 3 children. i don't pull punches very often. i'm sorry if that offends or scares others.

and lastly, i think, one of the other things that bothers me about both of these emails has been the fact that they both referred to Jesper as "a stillborn." not my stillborn child/baby/son. just a stillborn. there isn't much in this life that will genuinely offend me. i let a whole lot of things slide right off. most things aren't worth the effort of getting upset about. this is one exception. let me make this clear: my son is not *a stillborn.* he is not the sum total of the result of his birth. he is my son. my child. my precious, first born baby. he is a person to me now, as he has been from the very beginning. i am his mother. i *wanted* him long before he was conceived. i was soul-shattered when he died in my body; i still am. i will never be a whole person again. there will forever be a piece of me missing, and i am glad for it. do not ever call my son a piece of meat. i know that is the term many medical professionals use and because of that many people think it is okay to use it, too. it is offensive and demeaning and belittling. and i guarantee if someone ever used a term like that to describe your child, you would have their head for it.

yes, i realize that they most likely did not intend to offend me. they used that term because someone else did and they thought it was okay. it is not okay, and knowing me they should know that.

[as a side note, there was once upon a time when i asked someone to be aware of what she was saying in "mixed company." she was accidentally pregnant when i was so desperately trying to get pregnant. every time i saw her she complained about her pregnancy and couldn't wait for it to be over. i didn't ask her to stop talking about her pregnancy, i simply asked her to stop and think about what she was saying. it hurt me. partly because i was having problems getting pregnant and partly because she was missing out on the opportunity of the child she was growing. *heaven forbid* anything should happen to that child and the only time she had with her was the time in her belly. what would she take back if she could? would she wish for that time again to cherish and love that baby for as long as she had? i hoped she would understand. that she would stop and see the time and the love she was giving away with her child. she did not. she turned it back around on me and told me that i wasn't being supportive.

i can definitely see the similarities in the two situations. i'm not sure i could tell you where the line is that makes it ok for me to ask one person to watch her words, but not to take the same advice when it is asked of me. i know the death of my child is not a trump card. it doesn't make me right in all cases. and maybe i am in the wrong on one of these. i don't know. maybe i can't see it because i am angry and hurt by the most recent issue. the judgement bothers me. the fact that they both used such a derogatory term for my son bothers me.]

in the end, the truth is i had not intended to leave his picture up for more than that day. it was up for all of 48 hours because we were going camping and i got busy. so it feels like a whole lot of judgement and hurt for such a little thing. i don't think it is a crime to have used his picture on that day. i'll probably use it again on his birthday. and a big part of me wants to say, "if it offends you, don't look at it." ultimately, i can't control how someone else is going to feel or how they are going to mentally use his image when they see it. that has to be on them.

41 weeks + 7 years

it is hard to believe that after 7 years i still relive the last days of my baby boy with such vivid clarity. it doesn't hurt quite as much now, in some ways. but some things still hang around.

i wish more women would see the gifts of a pregnancy for what they are. those final days when they are *so ready* to be done with pregnancy and *just* have their baby--as if a pregnancy always means a healthy baby. those are the days i relive so clearly. not just the ones where i had a sneaking suspicion that everything was not ok, but the ones where he was anticipated with joy and excitement and such high hopes. i loved those days. i love them even more now. i recognize them as the gift they were. i did not wish them away then--he wasn't *allowed* to come before his due date because my parents couldn't get here before then. i would not wish them away now, even though now they are accompanied by the pain of loss and the longing of what will never be.

7 years has given me some healing, some extra coping abilities, some strength, and probably most importantly some perspective. thank you, my peanut, for all of those gifts and for choosing me. i love you, and i miss you every second, every minute, every day.

breathless

sitting there on the plane. late at night. jeff sleeping by the window. nate sleeping on the seat in between us. willow sleeping in my arms.

there he is again. my beautiful, quiet, missing boy. his face with little blond pigtails. sleeping so peacefully.

every time i see it, it leaves me breathless.

perfect

since willow's birth, i get this comment a lot:

oh, one of each. the perfect/complete family. how nice.

usually my response is something along the lines of . . . thank you. but what i'm really thinking is . . . complete? not ever. and perfect? not nearly. but, yes, we are done having children.

the thing that gets me is the people who say it. strangers, yes, but also people who know about jesper. people who know that my life, my family, my world is and always will be incomplete without him.

even if i disregard the death of one of my children, what if **i** don't feel like my family is complete? what if i want a dozen children? who are these people to imply (yes, that's what they are doing) that i'm done having children just because i have a boy and a girl now?

sorry, just a rant. i guess what i'm saying is this, stop implying that two kids--one boy and one girl--is somehow the perfect family. nobody can know what is in the heart, mind, or soul of another. admire my children, sure. i love them, too. they are cute and beautiful and look like gerber babies. but leave it at that, please.

episode 233

i am a huge fan of ER. been watching it for many years now. i'm sad that this is the last season.

this morning was THAT episode of ER (in re-runs). Wines and Misdemeanors. the episode where John Carter and his girlfriend Kem, who are expecting a little boy, are told that the baby has died in utero. stillborn.

this episode came almost exactly a year after my own still born son. it was very difficult to watch. but good in some sense, too. the portrayal was very close to my own. and it was great to see someone, anyone, show it with that much reality. not just glossing over it saying "oh, what a tragedy." they got into the emotions of it, too.

it still makes me cry . . . watching my life play out on tv. but i can say that with time, the intense pain of this experience is fading a very tiny bit.

and on a similar note of re-runs, we are expecting our version of the MISSing Angels Bill to get into legislative committee next month. all in preparation to get it into the regular 2009 session and get it passed, again. if my governor doesn't sign it this time, i'm personally going to kick his hispanic ass all the way to DC just to get him out of the state. so don't be surprised to hear more about it in the coming months and to be called to action early next year.

blue

i've been feeling like absolute crap lately. (and i am borrowing my grandmother's favorite swear word as a very mild stand-in for the word that runs through my own head.)

feeling blue. missing jesper terribly.

feeling isolated and lonely, despite getting out of the house nearly every day of the week. too many friends have moved away and now i feel like i'm nearly back to square one in having someone, anyone, i relate to on a close level.

my self-esteem is in the toilet. i'm gaining weight, STILL. not getting enough exercise (ok, not getting any exercise). eating too much and not much of it any good. as a sign that my self-esteem is low, i have stubbed my toes and feet on every piece of furniture in my house. and yesterday i sliced my thumb wide open on a broken glass.

feeling overwhelmed by my disaster of a house. being unable to get on top of the mess that we live in.

feeling overwhelmed and dogged by the emotional baggage left over from willow's birth. and unable to find two spare seconds to deal with it.

i know this is what all parents have to do, but i hate having to choose between my children's emotional health and my own. not to mention the choice between exercise and sleep. (or most things and sleep.) i lose every time. and so does the exercise. (how can i have the energy to exercise if i don't get enough sleep?)

yes, i know that taking care of myself lets me take better care of my children, but there are only 24 hours in the day. on top of beating myself up on my furniture and dishes, we all had a terrible day yesterday. screaming and crying for hours--all of us. but most of the people in the house went to bed early last night (i tried, but couldn't sleep, so i got up and worked on a project online), and at least a couple of us have had a better day today.

so i'm determined to change things. i've started taking my thyroid meds again. (i had taken a break to see if they were really "necessary," and with the weight gain and depression i think they are.) i've started keeping a food diary. i may not eat the absolute best all the time, but the food diary not only holds me accountable but also shows me progress which is a reward in itself. i've started walking more, too. i can't run and i'm no good at swimming, so walking is my exercise. when the construction between my house and nate's school is done (any . . . day . . . now), i am going to start walking him to or from school. and i'm going to dig out some workout videos, too. i don't have to leave my house to get some exercise in, i just have to find the energy and motivation.

and i'm determined to get my house in order. jeff has been helping with the dishes a lot more, and that helps greatly. i'm still doing laundry from our trip, but when that's done i can usually keep on top of it pretty well. i just need to get the rest of the place cleaned up and put in place. my house will never be perfect but when i feel overwhelmed by the mess, it only makes me more depressed and irritable.

one little step at a time. i'm hoping with every little step the rest of the crap will fall away (and maybe some lbs in the process).

and on that subject . . .

so i have this issue on the topic of "getting rid of baby stuff." it is an issue not many share. unfortunately, i know more than my fair share of those that do.

i have the snow suit we bought for jesper. nate wore it once. willow will, in theory, be able to wear it this winter. i can't decide whether i should keep it for her or send it to my nephew. it is fairly "boyish"--blue and green with a bear on it--but not overly so. the problem is not so much whether it is boyish or not, the problem is who i bought it for. i have what some would consider an overly emotional attachment to the things i bought for him. i have managed to part with most of the things that were his. there are a few things i am keeping. things that nate wore, things that willow wore. i have passed on the other things to special people in my life. usually i tell them that they are getting something that was jesper's so that they know what it means to me that they are getting it in the first place.

it is hard to part with things. but hard to convince myself to keep them, too. they are just clothes. they are meant to be worn. keeping them doesn't bring him back. and it isn't as if i'm not keeping anything. i am keeping plenty. but it is still so hard to part with all the little bits.

soon enough this problem will be put to sleep. willow will no longer be in the size range of things we had bought for jesper. after all, we didn't buy things beyond about 9 mos. but for now, it is an issue that tears me up.

funny that something so seemingly inconsequential can have such an impact.

just breathe

most of our trips in santa fe are not "off the beaten path" in the least. we mostly stick to the places that are found along the several main drags. recently however we went in search of, and found, the optometrist that we went to a few years ago when he was practicing in los alamos. he now practices in santa fe on luisa street--which is off the beaten path, yet the area was oddly familiar.

it wasn't until we got to the intersection of alta vista and luisa that it became very clear as to why it was familiar. that's where the funeral home is located. i've only been there once--to pick up jesper's ashes. i remember carrying his very simple urn out in a white bag. i remember the director of the funeral home being very nice. we did not have to pay for anything. he said, "you've already been through too much." these are memories that i carry with me. jeff doesn't even share the memory of carrying our son out in a bag; my mom was the one with me on that trip--i don't remember why and actually wish he had been with me. so i carry this one alone.

it still surprises me that more than 5 years later, something so seemingly simple can cause such a large shock to my system bringing tears with it. out of the blue.

i'm of two minds. if this building were on a route that i drive often, i might have gotten used to seeing it by now. on the other hand, if it were on a route that i drive often, it could hurt just as bad every single time. in which case, i probably would have found a way around it by now.

at any rate, it hurt. (took my breath away actually.) i'll have to see it a few more times this year and probably for years to come. so i guess i'll get to test the theory. but i'm not looking forward to it, and i may very well find an alternate route to the optometrist's office.

so true

From the outside
You cannot understand . . .
From the inside
You cannot explain.

we saw this painted on the tailgate of a little old green truck in santa fe. it was part of someone's Vietnam Veteran's Memorial. but the words ring true for those of us who have lost a child, too.

i know people try to understand or think they do, but i also know that there is no way they can possibly understand unless they have been there. honestly, i wish no one else had to understand, but my wish doesn't count. so every day more and more parents discover the truth of those words. by losing a part of their family, they join a different kind of family.

again?

so i said i would post about the many issues that came up toward the end of my recent pregnancy. none of them were particularly pregnancy-oriented, but the fact that i was already stressed out about the pregnancy only made them worse to deal with. well, this is one of them.

on jesper's birthday (april 28) on our way down to albuquerque to go to the aquarium with nate, i got a speeding ticket. it was only the second speeding ticket of my life. the first ticket i got a few weeks after jesper's still birth when we were taking my mom, who had stayed a bit longer than originally planned, to the airport.

my first thought when the cop pulled me over was, "is this somehow a message from jesper?" but what was he trying to say if it was a message? "slow down"? or just "i'm here"?

normally, i wouldn't have cared too much about the ticket. in fact when i got the first ticket those 5 years ago, i just kept saying "it's only money." because at the time that's what i kept telling myself. it's only money. i didn't change my driving habits. it didn't effect me in any way other than my pocketbook, despite what that officer would liked to have lectured me about. jeff saw him contemplating that very lecture and was ready to step in and explain what had recently happened, but it wasn't necessary. he gave me the ticket and backed off.

the problem this time came in the paperwork. the officer asked, "would you like to pay the penalty assessment or request a court date." to which i said, "i am in no position to decide that right now." and i wasn't. not that day. and the fact that the officer had checked the "penalty assessment" box and told me to sign the bottom would not typically have been a problem.

except that the officer had written down two different speeds on the ticket. there are a series of boxes that the officer fills in (name, address, infraction, etc). and then there is the description part of the form. in the boxes the officer wrote that i was going 63 in a 45 mph zone. in the description, he wrote that i was going 63 in a 55 mph zone. kind of a big difference. and since, when the ticket is entered into the system, they only enter the information in the boxes (not the description), it was entered that i was going 63 in a 45! (when the officer came up to the window of the car he verbally said i was going 63 in a 55, and i was in a 55 mph zone, so the 45 is not even slightly correct).

since this was only my second ticket ever, i didn't know what "penalty assessment" meant--that i was pleading guilty on the spot. had i known that--had the officer EXPLAINED that at the time--i might have chosen the court date instead. but he could afford the two seconds it required to explain that to me.

so here's the problem, how to correct a speeding ticket when it has conflicting information on it and the information that has been entered in the system is the one spot where it is wrong.

we saw the error within minutes of the stop, but too late to find the officer again. i called the SF sheriff's office to ask what to do the next day. i was told i should contest it. i was even given "instructions" as to how to go about that.

in the course of my calls and conversations, i spoke to no less than 7 different people and got no less than 7 different answers. the general consensus? everyone attached to the sheriff's office said if it is wrong, it should be fixed. everyone attached to the courts, that i could actually speak to, said, "we can't give you legal advice. but we don't do what they are telling you to do."

quite a few people never called me back. including a judge and a lawyer.

the one lawyer that did call me back refused to actually listen to the situation. then told me to go stand in line at the courthouse to speak to a judge. (i was 9 mos pregnant at the time!) except that i had been told how to get it done and "standing in line at the courthouse" wasn't it. plus i had been told that without a case pending (which mine wasn't because i had already technically pled guilty by "agreeing" to the penalty assessment with my signature) i wasn't going to be able to speak to a judge. not to mention that there was some mixed information about which court i should go to. some said magistrate court, some said district court.

ultimately, i paid the ticket because i just couldn't get a straight answer from anyone. and the one answer i got that made sense and seemed right, i could not get accomplished because of unreturned phone calls and "alternate" versions of what i should do and whether it was even a possibility to get it corrected.

i gave up. i paid the ticket the day we went to the hospital for induction. i gave it my best shot, and got no where. admittedly there was probably more i could have done, but i just couldn't afford the energy and stress and heartache that it required.

i did call my insurance carrier to ask if it would effect my rates. the first person i spoke to said, "yes, but i can't tell you how much because it would effect it until november. and i can't tell you this far in advance." stupid, but whatever. i called back again later and got someone else who said, "no, it probably won't. you have VIP coverage, and half the time they don't even check for tickets upon policy renewal. plus, the speed wasn't ridiculously high. so no big deal." we will have to wait and see whether our rates are effected come november.

interestingly, in one of my many conversations, i mentioned that the 28th was the 5th anniversary of my son's still birth. but i also said that, at the time, i didn't mention it because i don't like to "use" his birthday as a way of getting out of things. and that's what it feels like. sure, i could say it, but the truth is, i was going 63 mph in a 55 mph zone. and he got me. what difference does it make what day of the week, month or year it is? i wasn't distracted (by anything other than the preschooler in the back seat) by the day. i set my cruise control for a bit over the speed limit and he got me. but i was truthful with him when he asked what i wanted to do. i simply was not in any position or place, emotionally or mentally, to choose that day at that moment whether to pay the fine or go to court. and would it have really taken so much more from him to explain the differences and the ramifications of those differences? no, it wouldn't have, but he didn't.

want to know what i was told? a Santa Fe County Sheriff Deputy that i *should* bring it up. not that i'm using it, but that maybe the officer's response to me would have been different given the circumstances. but how do i say it without tears? especially on that day--or anywhere near it? and the tears make me feel like i am using it to get out of a ticket.

but now i know. far more than i did before.

this day

i can't believe it has been 5 long years since Jesper was in my belly.

yesterday was the last day he was alive. i spent the day sad for knowing what was coming for him.

today was the day he died. and i spent the day in absolute mourning for all of it. for knowing, in hind sight, that i let the window of opportunity go those long years ago. for knowing now, how naive and blind i was. and for the absolute loss we all feel, even Nate.

i still feel like a failure. i don't know that this one feeling is ever going to go away. and really, i guess, it shouldn't because it would mean i have stopped being his mother. and i don't want to live to see the day when i don't somehow feel responsible for him. the same goes for Nate and Willow.

there is a strange phenomenon this year. the dates and days of the week line up exactly again. the 25th, the date he died, is a friday which is the day he died. the 28th is again a monday. i have been wondering why this phenomenon seems to be having any effect whatsoever on how acutely i feel it this year. (something is definitely having an effect. i can't seem to contain the tears this year. though i am now 8 months pregnant, so i suppose it could be hormonal. but i know i'm not alone in feeling this intensity this year.)

i think i have figured out why. this year, there is no ambiguity. five years ago *yesterday* was the last day he was alive. five years ago *today* was the day he died. period. somehow when the date and the day of the week don't coincide, it doesn't feel the same. there is a measure of ambiguity in, "well, he died on a friday but the date was the 25th that year, and this year that friday is the 23rd." like my brain isn't sure which is more important the day or the date. so as i relive it this year (as i do every april), it is that much more concrete and present.

i find myself much more effected by the date of his death this year, too. i don't usually focus on when he died, so much as when he was born. i guess because that's the "official" day somehow. but the truth is i pretty much know when he died. his birthday has been a really sad day for us, and i have a very hard time "celebrating" it when Nate wants cake and candles. i think some part of me might be trying to separate the two. to mourn him on the day he died and reserve his birthday for whatever small celebration nate requires. and i think i'd like that. to be able to make his birthday a true celebration of his short life and what he brought to us instead of being sad from one end of april to the other. this year with the day and date lining up spot-on, it seems that much easier to do. i'm hoping to be able to have a bit of a repeat next year even without the day/date phenomenon in action. take the 25th as a day for mourning and keep the 28th as a day for celebrating.

unfortunately, it means that we will likely be doing the mourning nearly alone because the people around who do remember are expecting our grief on monday, not now. that's been the pattern in the past. but maybe that's okay, too. maybe it's okay for others to move on a bit and be allowed to celebrate his life with us instead of forever being asked to mourn his death.

(i will admit that the idea for separating the grief of his loss and the celebration of his life did not entirely come of my own head. i know a woman online who lost one of her twins. one was born still while the other lives and thrives today. they had to come up with some way of making their birthday a happy occasion, while still allowing themselves to mourn the loss of their son. so they celebrate on their birthday and mourn on the day of his funeral. i didn't think this would ever apply to me, but i see this year how it can and how it might actually be a good thing. so, thank you carolyn for your inspiration.)

Failure

why is it that even after 4 years i still feel like such a failure when it comes to Jesper. i've failed myself, Jeff, Jesper, and even Nate. i still feel guilty over something that, intellectually, i know i could not have changed. and i still feel like a complete failure.

this year might be worse because we are trying to get pregnant again. and i seem to be failing at that month after month after month.

and it doesn't seem to matter how much Jeff tells me i didn't fail. there is still that part of me that screams "FAILURE!"

i think this is the thing people really don't understand. they can understand the sadness and the pain, but those should fade with time and other events. they do not get the overwhelming sense of guilt and failure. they don't see it. they can't understand it at all. why would i feel guilty over something that wasn't a result of anything i did or didn't do? why would i feel like a failure when it was so clearly out of my control?

why? because he was inside **my** body at the time of his death. i was the one person on this earth who was charged with nurturing him, giving him what he needed, protecting him. i should have known something was wrong, i should have been able to do something about it. plus, i did know that something wasn't right, but i didn't know what. i didn't know what the things i felt—or didn't feel—meant. i should have. i should have done more research. i should have been doing kick counts. i should have made my concerns more clear. i should have shouted from the rooftop in order to be heard. but i didn't. i sat back and let it happen. worried about labor. didn't worry enough when he was so quiet.

even Jeff doesn't understand. but he didn't carry our son in his body.

so there you go. i'm a failure. i failed everyone. and i don't really care if anyone understands it or not. it is almost impossible to explain it so that others can understand. so i don't try. i just keep it to myself. but it is always there. just like the tears.

The Story of Jesper

in January 2002--can it really be so long ago?--we decided to start our family. we had been married almost 7 years. we owned a house. jeff had a good job and prospects were good that he'd be able to get a permanent staff position. the time was right!

the original plan was to have one child. i wanted to give birth and nurse one child. any others, i was ok with adopting. oh, how young we were when we made this plan. we even had one name for each gender picked out. we were set, right? that's all we'd need.

April 2002 pee'd on a stick. got two lines. alright. baby under construction. started spoting a few days later. tried to "relax and rest" hoping that would change the outcome. no such luck. miscarried within a week of the positive test. was a bit down but nothing terrible. i guess it was because i didn't even really have time to get attached. i had called everyone and their dog to tell them, but really we were BARELY pregnant. so then we started trying again.

August 2002 pee'd on a stick. got two lines again but only after some spotting. got a little worried by the spotting. but got online and did some research. found out spotting on implantation is actually a good thing. didn't have that last time. so, alright. baby under construction again. had an average, i guess, pregnancy. had some BP issues (always seemed to be borderline high). no gest diabetes. had GBS, but wasn't particularly worried about it. very common thing. gained quite a bit of weight. swelled quite a bit, too. baby was moving. all was good.

chose a pair of midwives in santa fe. planning a homebirth. don't like the western med version of prenatal care or childbirth.

went for our 20 week ultrasound at more like 18 or 20 weeks. found out who the baby was. a boy. Jesper Thomas DeWitt Golden. Jepser was Jeff's choice, scandinavian name. Thomas was my choice, for my uncle and my best friend--love you bunches, tom! DeWitt as a middle name because i wanted that family connection. i like my maiden name, my child should have it, too. he would share his father's initials JTG with a little addition.

getting towards the end of the pregnancy. baby should be coming soon. 34 weeks he's still breech. hmmm. have to work on that. did everything. flashlight, music, talking, cold packs, "ironing board". tried it all. nothing was working. 35 weeks. got to get serious about it. laid in the 45° angle position until my butt fell asleep. that finally did the trick. i woke up at 5 am uncomfortable. after poking around the belly, i think he's flipped over. at our prenatal class that morning, i asked them to feel. they say, yes, feels like it. we'll order an ultrasound to make sure. ultrasound at about 36 weeks confirms he's finally head down. also confirmed that he was, indeed, a boy. and that he had some very big hands and feet. gonna be a bruiser.

Jesper was always quiet. if i was moving i couldn't tell if he was. he never rolled around. he always had his back to my left. couldn't ever really feel legs, feet, knees, arms, fists, or the like. just his head. had hiccups constantly. other than that a very quiet kid.

had normal prenatal appts from then on out. due date was good friday, April 18th. it came (along with my parents) and went. waiting, waiting, waiting. doing yard work. doing house work. walking. doing anything we could to start labor. common kiddo, mama's really not comfortable anymore, come out. now at 41 weeks. had a prenatal appt at home. checked his heartrate. 142 bpm. perfect. checked again for my parents, same. mentioned that he hadn't been moving much since the day before (weds). "don't worry. everything is ok. he's getting ready for labor. saving energy." told to get some herbs to help start labor. drive to santa fe, come back with herbs. yucky stuff. taking herbs. have some contrx but nothing major. and not very consistent.

waiting, waiting, waiting. sunday rolls around. i called my midwife. "herbs aren't working, labor isn't starting." don't worry labor will start when it starts. can't force it. "and i haven't felt him really move since wednesday." that's a problem. we want to do a non-stress test. how soon can you be here? "we can probably be there about 1 pm." no sooner? "not really."

now, i already knew something wasn't right. the day after my last prenatal appt (that would be friday), i could feel Jesper's knee. i couldn't ever feel his limbs. i pushed it. he didn't push back. he didn't readjust. he didn't move on his own. that was my first clue that something was wrong. but everyone kept saying "he's just getting ready for labor, don't worry. he's fine." by sunday, i really had a pretty good idea he was gone. and getting to santa fe faster wouldn't have changed a damn thing. i think i even said "if something is wrong, it is already wrong and getting there faster won't change that."

so off to santa fe we go. meet my midwives at their office. tried to find his heartbeat. couldn't find it. Sonja's hand was shaking so bad. i knew that she knew. but she said "the machine is really old and doesn't always work right. we'll go to the hospital to make sure everything is ok." i'm crying because i know what they are going to find. my dad keeps telling me it will be ok. that he's fine.

up we go to OB triage. emergency ultrasound. tech won't look at anyone or say anything. she leaves and the doctor comes in. Jesper is gone. there is no heartbeat. my mom and i were the only ones in the curtain who couldn't see the ultrasound screen. my mom is the only one who cried out. because i already knew. everyone else knew when they did the ultrasound.

Jesper was born at 11:27 pm on April 28, 2003. he weighed 8 lbs 7.4 oz and was 19.5 inches long. he did, indeed, have big hands and feet. he had quite a bit of light brown hair. he had my lips. beyond that features were hard to name because we weren't seeing him as he would have looked alive. but he was beautiful just the same. he was perfect.