It was just an estimate made early in pregnancy of when he (before he was known to be a boy!) was to be born, but it's all I have to be able to say that around this day he would have turned five.  FIVE!  In a parallel life, we would be preparing for starting kindergarten in the coming fall.  I really enjoy kids around this age, when they are adorably expressive and still like to cuddle.

I went to work yesterday for the first time since March 28 became an anniversary.  My mom is proud of me and thinks it's a sign of healing.  I'm not so sure.  What if I'm healed AND elect to not treat days that were (are?) about Toren as if they were just an ordinary day? 

Every day is a day of silently missing Toren. 

Having tried it, I don't think I will take the day off next year.  With work, there wasn't time to visit the cemetery yesterday (or today, or tomorrow).  There wasn't space to reflect. 

My ex-husband spells Toren's name differently than I do.  Torin.

I didn't correct him because it doesn't matter, does it?  There are the small monuments I have with his name - a brick in the cemetery where his ashes are buried, an identical brick in a different cemetery where my local SHARE group has a memorial garden, and a third identical brick in my garden (yes, I had three made!) - but there aren't legal documents or anything where Toren's name was written.  His name is all over in this journal and all through my personal writings.  It's been written in the sand on multiple beaches by multiple, loving people.  It's been printed on t-shirts for the March for Babies.  It's stamped into a silver pendant which I still wear most days.  TOREN.

.....

Toren was born and my husband was not interested in naming him - he gave the restriction that I couldn't give him the family name that he was always going to have (he was going to the fifth, plus have a nickname like his father and grandfather had had) so I named him the nickname that was my favorite at that time.  His father took away his name to be used later for a living baby.  So it's not like we had a discussion and agreed upon a name and spelling.

.....

His father began his grief late.  After Toren's name had been written here, spoken at support meetings that I attended alone, and carved out in permanent and transient mediums - after leaving me behind to remember Toren alone, my ex now visits the cemetery.  I guess he didn't see the brick.

Toren is mine and Torin is his and it doesn't really matter because the boy is not here.

.....

A long time ago I decided, or discovered, that my job as Toren's mother is to love him endlessly, because that is what his soul needs.

It's good that his father is also remembering and loving him, in his own way.

Cessation of the saga

... that is what I'm hoping for. 

Not very long ago at all I wrote about my ex-husband moving away and practically as soon as those thoughts of surprising sadness were expressed I began to gleefully enjoy his absence.  It was so nice to not worry about running into him and to not feel angry when friends (not really friends of mine anymore) invited us both to parties.  It kind of felt like I was getting a well deserved lucky break - like finally that incredibly long and sad story was taking a turn down a hopeful and less stressful path. 

Back when he moved and the regret over not understanding who he really was was clashing with the relief of having him far away, I was sort of worried that there wasn't a complete break between us and that one day we would run into each other again.  I imagined it would probably be some chance meeting on the West coast when we both happened to be visiting our respective families at the same time and that so much time would have passed by then that there would be no complicated, residual feelings remaining.  We would be able to casually catch up or just say a greeting and walk away and that would bring complete closure.

That is what I want - complete closure.  I want to remember him and feel nothing.  And not a false, suppressed emotions sort of nothing, but to truly feel that I am happy with how my life is turning out and that I'm so busy with wonderful thoughts that there's simply not room for negative thoughts related to him.  It takes time though and specifically it takes time without him disrupting my life.  That is what a lot of my old friends did not understand.  Even though he left in November of 2008 he has subtly hassled me since then and it has been really hard to get back on my feet financially and emotionally because of some of the things he has done.  The two year anniversary of our divorce is next month and one would think that would be sufficient time to get over it but just last week I spoke to a debt collector about the one measly bill he got in the divorce settlement which he does not pay.  We took out that loan together, while married, and creditors don't care who gets what bill in a divorce.  They were going to try to contact him again but if they can't get him to respond I'll probably start paying on the bill, not because I just can't figure out what to do with all of this extra money I have sitting around (HA!) but because this lingering connection to him is wearing me out and inhibiting my goal of improving my credit. 

In therapy I'm working on boundaries and being assertive and it's hard to see how this situation fits into that.  If I cave in and pay his bill I'm not being assertive but if I continue to let the behavior of someone else negatively impact me I continue to be a victim.  So damn.

How long does it take to get to feeling peace concerning someone who has hurt you badly?  And is there a crash course because it appears that he has just moved back here.  What if I can't promise graceful composure yet?

Normal stress

Maybe, from what has been written here before, someone could tell that I didn't feel like my ex-husband was very nice to me and I'm glad to be out of that marriage (even though I entered separation with reluctance).  And you can probably tell that I like my boyfriend and we are in a serious relationship but I have had concerns regarding his financial instability.

.....

There is so much that could have been said over the past month plus about how I feel about being referred to a reproductive clinic - I'm all over the place, at times frustrated, sad, at peace, determined.  No action has been taken yet though.  SnuggleBunny is all on board with being positive and finding a way for us to have a family and he hasn't made me feel bad for being too old to conceive a baby, so that's nice.  However, he also hasn't had his semen analysis done.  I was able to get an appointment with the highest rated clinic in my area (maybe more on my concerns about where to go later) but without his test done I thought it would kind of be a waste of time so I postponed the visit.  The next available date was April 1, which I took, and already I feel like the fool in this situation.

Am I being dumb for insisting that he show initiative and make an appointment and PAY FOR his own test?  He would be a good father in a lot of ways, just like he is a good partner in so many ways, and he has said that having children is something that he really wants.  But words are not translating into actions.  I know the only barrier he has regarding the test is paying for it.  I'm barely getting back on my feet financially and I'm sick of paying for more than my share of the bills.  I know I'll be paying for our infertility treatment since it will be my body involved.  I'd be paying for any medical bills if I get pregnant and I'd probably pay for child related expenses, plus the bills I already pay.  And then there is the incredibly selfish fear that I'd have to increase my work hours while SB stays home with the baby - which is preferable to expensive childcare and good for the kid, right?

That is a lot more than I expected to write.

.....

Yesterday I went to a short seminar on avoiding stress through a health expo at work.  I went on a whim - no, I went because I followed intuition.  Because I've been through STRESS and the stuff that's going on now feels very miniscule compared to Toren and divorce and even losing my house.  My motto is "any day when you are not delivering a deadbaby is pretty damn good!"  The seminar was good though and helped me see that even though nothing in my life is completely being destroyed right now (you  know, except for losing hope of parenthood) there are things that are causing stress.

I made an appointment to talk about my relationship, and I'll actually be meeting with the woman who conducted yesterdays seminar and answered my questions about one-on-one appointments (she seems really great).

I have been in a marriage that was terrible for me emotionally so I know to avoid soul slaughtering relationships like that.  My relationship with SB is lovely and I feel respected and cared for and confident, but it can't develop further because he can't take care of himself.  My life dreams are postponed and postponed and postponed because he can't take care of himself.

What does a smart girl do?  Pay more than she can afford to have the boyfriend and family that she wants?  I'm taking action get these questions answered!

Crossed fingers didn't work.

Low progesterone and low anti-mullerian hormone and a referral to a fertility clinic. 

It feels a lot more intense than it looks written down.  It looks like there are good options and plenty to feel hopeful for.  It feels like the chance of having a child that is genetically related to both of us is remote.  Statistically, delivering a child at all is not so likely.

I'll go to the initial visit to find out all options, but I can't really afford expensive treatments.

Fingers crossed! Fingers crossed!

That's what Jill at my gynecologist office said after answering some questions and making an appointment for me to have blood drawn for progesterone levels on the correct day. 

It's fertility workup month

There should be a sarcastic exclamation point wrapping up that sentence but I can't summon a smart ass attitude right now.  It feels more like:

It's fertility workup month :(

My mood has been excellent until this point; until scheduling the appointment for the last part of this initial workup.  It's been so easy compared to what some have been through, first was the day 2 FSH (and a slew of other tests), then the peeing on sticks to identify the LH surge (that smiley face came pretty damn early, which if that is a trend then timing has been dismally off), then on Thursday there will be the progesterone blood levels.  And then the results.  And I'm not looking forward to that.

Discussing the fertility workup is such an appropriate topic for my blog but to be honest I don't feel like I have anything novel to say.  It all has been said here before - I'm gutted from Toren's death but have learned to function anyway, I'm terribly sad over not having children and I'm terrified that I never will have a living child.  It's embarrassing to not have progressed along to raising a rainbow baby by now.  These aren't things that I feel comfortable discussing with anyone.  Since hanging out with mothers hasn't been appropriate, my friends are primarily 30-somethings who are childless by choice and starting a conversation about how much I would like a child isn't something I want to do.  My family has probably given up on me by now and some would be all judgy about my quest for a child out of wedlock and even if I didn't feel frowned upon I don't want to subject them to another reproductive roller coaster.  I wouldn't want them to get excited for a new family member only to be let down, again.  SnuggleBunny is on board but doesn't understand just what a big deal it is.  He knows that deadbabies are a very sad thing but not that a missing baby changes everything.

And actually, I haven't been doing all I could to have another baby because pregnancy is frightening business.

But the hope of another baby has been very important and I'm afraid of hearing test results that whisk that hope away.  Up until this point my fingers have been crossed but they are not today because the test results will be what they will be, regardless of what I want them to say.  Not being able to have a baby (even just one!) would be devastating and the hopeful part of me says it would be too devastating to actually happen.  But you know what?  Toren's death was something that was too devastating to actually happen but it did anyway.

.....

Anyway, I am doing the tests and for the most part I've been keeping cheerful.  I'm charging into this holiday season with so many commitments there will be little time to contemplate another Christmas without a child.  I'll probably have a fun part-time job during December so that will be a productive way to keep busy.  But the there's something that I'm so excited about!  I'm doing a 90 day fitness challenge!  Here's how it works, we are in teams of 4 and work out with a trainer 3 times a week.  I've done personal training before and disliked it very much and it's still a mystery why this sounded like a good idea, but I LOVE IT!  It is so fun to work out with in a team!  It's day 16 of the challenge and I have not lost any weight but my body fat percentage was one percentage point lower, which could have been measurement error but at least it wasn't higher!  My trainer has been very encouraging and instead of feeling defeated so early on I'm increasing the amount of cardio I do every week and decreasing the amount of cheese I eat - would you believe he said to limit cheese to once per day?  ;)

.....

Expressing these fears has made me feel better and I'll let Jill be my cheerleader for right now. 

May we all have peace this holiday season :)

November 8th is also Bram Stoker's birthday.  It's kind of nice that Toren shares a birthday with a famous person, I suppose.  Learning a bit more about Bram Stoker was a nice distraction this mornining.  Bram Stoker was Irish and Dracula was published in 1897.  Beyond being a horror novel Dracula presents concerns of that time in Victorian England.  Bram Stoker died in 1912 at 64 years old, after several strokes.

Toren M died on November 8, 2007 by being crushed by his mother's contracting uterus.  He was born later that day at 10:35pm.  I don't know when he died because he wasn't being monitored because he was going to die anyway.

It's been five years.

.....

I still take October 31 and November 8 off from work.  Not to do anything in particular but just to avoid seeing people.  The surrounding days are bad enough and I think if anyone wished me a good day today I would yell at them.  Most days I'm fine and happy enough but I take these two days and his due date (the anniversary of the day when nothing happened) to not have to look happy.

On days that are tough, for whatever reason, I think to myself "at least I'm not back in that week where I was waiting for my son to die".  Most shitty situations look pretty innocuous compared to hanging out in a hospital room waiting to birth the baby who will never go home, never meet his grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, never make his own friends, never hear you say how much he is loved. 


Those days between the fatal diagnosis and when he was born were the most unremarkable and exhausting days.   Nothing was actively happening.   We were killing time as the inevitable loomed. 
It was terrifying.  I remember being busy researching bilateral renal agenesis and what a baby of his gestational age looks like, and crying, and vomitting, and not getting out of bed, and then not being able to stand being in the house, and not talking to people because what was I going to say?  My parents didn't even know what was going on until days after the diagnosis and then I don't even remember what I said to them.  Probably something about how the baby is dying but everything is ok.  Don't worry - I'm ok. 

Unpredictably, embarassingly, the thing I felt most right after he delivered was relief.  The labor pains stopped and I didn't have to wait for him to die anymore.  It was time to grieve for a bit then get back to kicking ass.  Right?

Beyond heartbroken, wondering how I was going to walk across the threshold to leave the hospital room and go home without my son, I told myself that it would be rough for a few weeks but once the new year came around I would be feeling much better.  Looking back, I gave myself 54 days to "get over it". 

Still waiting. 

I mean, things are much easier than being "there" but beyond that I'm not sure of much.  I thought I would at least be pregnant with another baby within a year and my lousy, cheating husband and I would raise a family together.  You know, all unfulfilled with mountains of hurt and lies between us.  So I HAVE TO be happy about being where I am now.  I must be thankful.  But not on November 8th.

.....

My son was going to have dinosaur pajamas.  We would all learn baby sign language so we could communicate with him before he could speak.  We would visit family and he would get excited with his cousins and all of the adults would cringe at the noise.  He was going to be the oldest child.

Instead it's just me sitting with a pair of tiny dinosaur pajamas that have never been worn.