Holding My Breath

Is today going to be the day? Will this be my very last chance to play and sing and laugh with him? Will he die tonight while I'm too busy dreaming to save him?

:::

White noise masks the silence of 4 a.m. as I sit awake, straining to watch the rise and fall of his belly while the world around me sleeps in peace. I do what all the books and medical professionals say to do to decrease the chances of sudden infant death, but so have many others before me and they were unsuccessful at preventing tragedy.

If my maternal instinct failed me in the past am I cursed to let it fool me once more? No one's safe from death or illness or unpreventable accidents. Who's to say I won't become the marred mother with 2 dead children. The most unlucky woman in the world.

The funeral service has been planned, programs designed, song choices made, and the ideal burial plot right next to his big brother is empty and waiting for its occupant. "Aiden's Tree" becoming "The Bailey Brothers Tree." All in my head. The saddest plans I've ever imagined. Please, God, don't make my greatest fears a reality.

I watch him sleep with rosey cheeks and copper hair, and envision the small brass cross lying atop another tiny blue casket, so small and delicate it can be carried with only two hands.

If he dies, will my marriage be able to withstand the crushing blow? Will I ever forgive myself, or Kevin, if we crumble? I wonder if a relationship's strength can be measured by the number of tragedies it has endured.

:::

So, if you were wondering, this is the reason I hold Kevie a little to close, give more kisses than most, and these are the thoughts that plague me as my mind wanders. I pray to God they don't become my reality.

Don't Judge Me!

I've been writing this post in my head for the past few weeks. Letting it stew on low heat until it's just the right consistency, or at least until it starts spewing out of me uncontrollably making a mess all over the kitchen counter, which is what usually happens when I accidentally cook things for too long. The pot is boiling over and it can no longer be contained.

Every time I'm out with Kevie judgments are being passed onto me from other women. If he starts to cry in public I'm made to feel like it's my fault, like I'm doing something so obviously wrong as his mother that he should be taken away from me and I be made sterile because I don't deserve to have kids. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but if I'm at the store and he starts to cry because he's tired am I'm supposed to drop all of my groceries and rush outside because my baby's fussing is bothering a total stranger? The scowling looks of judgment I've received could cause a weak soul to break.

I'll be the first to admit I'm not entirely innocent. Before having kids, I wouldn't have thought twice about judging the mom at Target who obviously hadn't washed her hair in days and looked completely defeated as she failed to wrangler her two young children running wild so she could just pay for her socks and Diet Coke and get the hell out of there. All the while I would just stare and think to myself what a horrible job she was doing while I made mental notes of what not to do when I had kids. What did I know, right? At the time, I had never spent an entire night bouncing a baby on the medicine ball because he decided he wasn't going to sleep any other way. I had also never imagined that one day these same moronic judgments were going to be passed onto me by other clueless women.

When did it become okay to be so critical of complete strangers? What do you think would have happened if instead of thinking that struggling woman was a bad mom, I lent a helping hand by holding her things while she chased after her kids? Does it really help when you passive-aggressively tell me you would have never willingly put your baby at risk by being induced early? Unless you're willing to put yourself into the shoes of an exhausted mother just trying to get through the day you can't judge her or her methods. And once those shoes are on, I doubt you'll even have the energy to scoff at the woman having a shouting match with her 5 year old who's no doubt going to kick his mom's ass because she's already given up on the matter of buying Double-Stuffed Oreos.

Let's do each other a favor and make a conscious effort to not pass judgments and shell out unhelpful advice to the mom who could really just use a hug and strong cocktail. 

The Loss Affect

I am honored to be a guest blogger for The OC Walk to Remember. I wrote about how my loss has changed me and the affect it has had on my relationships. Join the conversation below!

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Much like an infomercial for the latest must-have miracle diet pills, I have had a very distinct Before and After metamorphosis. The change in my appearance isn’t drastic (unless you count the extra pounds and addition of stretch marks), but I’ve transformed into a brand new person. I can hardly recognize the woman naively smiling in my Before picture.

When looking back on my life I cut the timeline into two major halves, Before Aiden and After Aiden. Before Angie is young, carefree, and wet behind the ears; and After Angie is empathetic, mature, and wise beyond her young age of 28. My heart has changed; it’s been split wide open and has felt both the purest of joys and deepest despair.

I've forced myself to do an honest inventory of the broken relationships from my life which ended on trivial grounds and mended friendships lost due to petty differences. I've re-evaluated my priorities and let go of selfish grudges. In the past 18 months I've learned more about myself than I ever could have had Aiden not died, I’m forever grateful for the strength and courage he has given me.

Losing Aiden has also given me a chance to see the people in my life for who they truly are. I’ve been disappointed more times than I’d wish to count, but even more, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. I was, and still am, greatly supported by my closest family and friends. They are the ones I can speak to candidly when I’m feeling sad or angry while having an “Aiden moment,” and also have helped my husband and me remember and celebrate Aiden on holidays and his first birthday. They allow me to speak his name freely without shame. I love them because they love him.

And then there are the people on the opposite side of the spectrum. I’m not sure which hurts worse, when someone you’ve always admired claims Aiden never existed or an old friend who completely disappeared after Aiden died and has yet to come out of hiding. Being shown an honest look at people you thought you knew so well can either break your heart or heal it.

After Angie is a better person because he lived, and will never quite feel complete because he died.

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Have you changed after your loss(es)? If so, how? How have your friends and family reacted to your loss(es)? Were you surprised by their reactions?

love letter

I couldn't imagine loving him anymore than I do at this exact moment in time. I didn't know it would ever be possible to hold onto a squirmy, chubby, bouncing baby and feel so complete. He's absolute perfection. I love him.

I love him when he spits up on my clean shirt, pulls on my hair, screams in my face and pees all over me. Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained, I love him more than words can say. He consumes my thoughts and has made me whole. I pretend his babbling and coos are his secret love letters to me, to be deciphered only by my ears. I will continue to love him unconditionally even when he's big and grown and has a family of his own.

I know how lucky I am to have him and will never take his love for granted.

Kevie, you are the love of my life.

10 weeks of love

He was.

He lived in me. I felt his every move and hiccup, and watched his heart beat full of life. He had hair red and full, and limbs long and thin. Aiden was and continues to be.

How dare anyone claim my son didn't exist, especially someone who was present for his birth and witnessed firsthand the heartbreak our family endured when he died. Aiden will always be my first son and I will not allow anyone to tell me different. Although his life was cut short he did exist, just as much as our Little Kevie does.

Saying he never existed breaks my heart and makes me feel like I should hide my grief and vulnerability to protect myself against further pain. I can't help but feel sad and angry after I've done so much to preserve Aiden's memory and honor his life. This is something I'd expect from a stranger, someone on the outside completely unaffected by our loss, not from a person so close to me and Kevin.

I'm at a loss for words. I'm pissed off and hurt that anyone would say my Aiden didn't exist. Fuck you.

GUILT

Please note: I've written and re-written this post so many times my eyes have all but crossed. I feel guilty every time I read it and hitting "Publish" broke my heart a little bit. I welcome any encouraging comments, advice and words of wisdom but I ask that you please be respectful and keep judgments and negative comments to yourself. Thank you.

guilt noun - a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined; emotion felt by women that most men never have to suffer through.

:::

I'm feeling stressed out, overwhelmed and exhausted. As the mother of a 6-week-old baby I have to be on 24 hours a day, ready at any moment to feed, clean, entertain or soothe. I just want a break for a few hours, to get out of the house and have a little me time and feel somewhat normal. This need to escape is making me feel extremely guilty.

The guilt poured in when I wasn't successful at breastfeeding. I wanted to be able to provide for him the way nature intended, but my milk never came in, my breasts were never sore, never engorged with nourishment. I tried for two weeks, having to supplement with formula at every feeding. I would pump between feedings to help stimulate milk production but I never got more than an ounce, usually much less if anything at all. I should have tried harder, taken the supplements, tried the herbal teas promising to increase milk supply, I could have met with a lactation consultant and attended la leche league meetings. I should have done more.

I try my hardest every day to do what all the baby books and online articles tell me is best for my baby. "It's never too early to start reading to your baby; play music instead of watching tv; tend to your baby before he has a chance to cry; keep a nightly routine so he knows it's time for sleep." As simple as these tasks may be, I can't seem to keep up. I feel guilty for choosing Millionaire Matchmaker over an hour that could have been spent stimulating Kevie's development by playing with him. Instead of spending only 15 minutes reading him stories, I should be reading to him every chance I get. Mindlessly checking for updates on facebook could easily be replaced by walks outside.

As I type with one hand and hold my sleeping boy with the other, a sense of warmth and pride comes over me. He's so incredibly perfect. He's worth every ounce of guilt, feeling of inadequacy and missed hour of sleep and so much more. I'd give everything to ensure his happiness. I may never be a perfect mother but I will always be the mother Kevie needs me to be.

Learning Every Day

Today Kevie is 4 weeks old, I can't believe it! Maybe the exhaustion has clouded my brain, but it really seems to have flown by. For me, life with a newborn equals eating whatever I can, whenever I can manage to get it into my mouth, taking naps instead of actually sleeping, and showering in under 5 minutes, if at all. Kevie is a relatively mellow baby, he sleeps well at night waking up every 2-4 hours to eat, and has yet to have a full blown screaming session. At 4 weeks old, he is starting to wake up and become more alert to his surroundings.

My daily life has become less about myself and all about taking care of our little man. I wish I could say I use his nap times wisely, but rather than sleeping I use that time to clean bottles, do laundry, or brush my teeth. Yesterday Kevie fussed all morning and would only sleep while I held him, but today I was able to get out of the house and run a couple errands. Every day seems to be different, maybe one day we'll have more of a routine set, but I don't think it'll be any time soon.

The biggest lesson I've learned since bringing Kevie home has been I don't know anything about babies and parenting. My lifesaver has been Baby 411, I reference this book daily for everything from how to file his nails to sleep patterns and proper development. I love this book!

Snuggling with Big Brother's bear ♥

Coming Clean

It only took me four days to know that something was wrong; I was crying multiple times a day, feeling completely hopeless, and scared to death to be alone with my own son. Not only was I sad for not being able to feed, nurture and change diapers for his big brother, but I also felt guilty for every mundane chore I completed for Kevie because I was never able to complete them for Aiden. I didn't recognize myself and it was scaring the shit out of me.

I called my therapist the day after we came home from the hospital to set up an appointment. I met with her when Kevie was one week old and she diagnosed me with postpartum depression. She had me call my OB who put me on 50mg of Zoloft, which I began taking that night. After being on the medication for one week I started feeling better, my outlook on life and the future felt brighter, and I was no longer afraid of being with my baby boy. Although I will always miss Aiden and will still have moments of sadness when I think of him, the guilt of caring for Kevie has dissipated. 

Without the help of my therapist and the work I put in managing my grief before Kevie arrived, I don't think I would have been able to come out of this depression and I know I wouldn't have sought out the help I so desperately needed. I will stay on the medication for at least 6 months with therapy sessions as needed.

As I type this I feel happy and hopeful. I have no shame in admitting my depression and decision to seek help, I know that by doing so I'm giving Kevie the mother he deserves. I feel like how I assume new mothers are supposed to feel, proud and joyful, excited to show off my little man.