Tuesday, June 30, 2009

what's on my mind

I had a dream last night - since losing Ryan it's rare that I remember them. But I woke up from this dream just as it was ending...all I remember was that I was in a plane, holding a baby (sex unknown) and the plane was going down...it crashed but we were still alive. Then I woke up. I wonder what this means. Fear of losing another baby? Although in the dream we were clearly still alive so how does that fit in? Anyway...the thing that stuck out to me was the baby...I was holding a baby. It was clear as day. It was a nice thing to see. Definitely something I wish for.
The 4th of July is coming ever so closer. Joe has to work that night...I think I'm going to go spend some time with him during the day and the do my best to ignore the festivities outside during the night. It can be just any other day, right? Not a day I was very much looking forward to spending with my son. I can make it just any other day.
Then next weekend is vacation. I'm looking forward to the relaxation - I'm just afraid it will be overwhelming, Ryan should be there in everything that we do. And he wont be.
I keep thinking about holidays. Valentines Day will probably permanently be ruined, seeing as it is a few days before when I lost Ryan and I will probably always blame myself for not getting to the hospital sooner. Thanksgiving and Christmas (especially this year) are things that he is supposed to be at. I think I will forgo them. At least the big family get togethers. I think I'll just stay away from them.
I don't know why I'm thinking so much about things so far down the road...but they've been on my mind lately...

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

no need for a babysitter

Sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting him. Which is funny because he's all I ever think about. But I try to remember his face and I don't see HIM I see my favorite picture of him. I can't picture him in the hospital, lying in the bassinet next to me or in my lap...maybe it's just a subconscious emotional block of a traumatic event. It probably is. Seeing as it was the most traumatic event of my life. Funny thing is I can play the c-section over and over in my mind though...that is what is stuck in my head. It replays like a bad movie a million times a day.

Speaking of movies, we went to the midnight Transformers showing last night. It was a great movie - but throughout it I found myself thinking about Ryan a lot. Since this was such a big movie the date it was coming out has been blasted everywhere for a long time...we used to talk about how my mom would have to babysit Ryan so we'd be able to go see it. Well, we didn't need a babysitter. Funny thing is...if I could go back, knowing what I know now and for some reason things turned out differently and I had him with me - I wouldn't want the babysitter...I wouldn't leave him for a second if it could be avoided. After the movie ended I just started crying and I had to get out of there - I was practically running through the parking lot. This, for some reason, pissed Joe off. I wouldn't stop and he just wanted to hold me and make me feel better - so he got frustrated when I wouldn't stop...which is understandable, I was acting a little crazy. But I just literally couldn't stop. I just had to get out of there. I got home and cried myself to sleep...

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The incomplete me...

The shacks are up...the 4th of July is just around the corner. Fireworks will go on sale soon. Ryan should be anywhere between 3 and 7 weeks old that day...depending on when he had shown up. If he had shown up when he was supposed to. If I had chosen differently...choose to have the c-section earlier, and he had lived - he'd be four and a half months old that day. It just so happens that he just showed up a little too early. And a little too dead. Sorry to be frank. Sometimes I feel like people look at me like "the woman with the dead baby". They just never talk about him. Ever. I feel like his name, his life...everything about him is a taboo subject. I wish people would talk about him more...if people wanted to I'd probably talk about him and nothing but him forever. My favorite holiday has always been the 4th of July. When I first found out my due date - and knew that I'd definitely be recovered from giving birth by that day I was so excited. I couldn't wait to spend my favorite holiday with my little boy in hand. Now I think I might just stay in bed that day. Pretend I don't hear the fireworks, pretend there is nothing special about that day. Pretend my son shouldn't be with me. Everyone else seems to be able to do that just fine. Why cant they stop for just one day? Why cant everyone skip the fireworks for a year? Don't they realize no one should be celebrating??? My baby died. What is there to celebrate? Shouldn't everyone be as heartbroken and consumed by his death as I am? Shouldn't everyone realize that when they ask me how I'm doing...and I say "okay"...that I'm lying. That the truth is something they don't want to hear so I don't tell them. Would "my son is dead, how do you think I'm doing" really be an appropriate answer for that question? Or how about "I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, I dream about my son all night and occasionally I even think I hear him crying...also, sometimes I pray to be in a coma so I can sleep through the next year"? You think my boss wants to hear that when she asks how I'm doing? Probably not. My vacation is only 17 days away. I'm looking forward to it. Kind of. I'm looking forward to the relaxation - not working for eleven days. I'm scared of how I'll manage being up at that cabin though. Ryan was supposed to be there. I planned throughout my whole pregnancy how this was going to be our first family vacation. Every single thing I do that week will be something I'm supposed to be doing with Ryan. When we unpack the car, someone should be watching Ryan. When I put my stuff in my bedroom...it's going to seem empty without a crib and all of his things. A "family picture" will not be complete without my son in it. Nothing is complete. I feel incomplete. Maybe I shouldn't even be going...but I'm hoping its the relaxation I need. Maybe I'm just glutton for pain.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

so frustrated

I am so frustrated, I want to just scream and scream and scream...and then punch something a few hundred times
First, AF was due yesterday - I had very little signs that it was actually coming and so when it didn't show its ugly head yesterday I let myself hope and believe for a split second that there could be a rainbow on the horizon. Of course I was wrong. AF always comes. It came first thing this morning. Yes, this is frustrating, but no it’s not the reason I'm so pissed off
After I came back from the bathroom and tried to go back to sleep my phone rang. Who calls at 845 on a Sunday morning? It was my grandma. She’s always been the uptight - mind set stuck in the 40’s kind of grandma. Anyway she asked to talk to my mother. Yes, I’ve been staying at my mothers (although most of the time I stay at Ryan’s dads). The plan was that I’d stay with my mother until a little while after Ryan was born - kind of get a nice nest egg before we moved out when Ryan was a few months old. But really staying here has kind of been a blessing in disguise. I’ve taken so much time off work and cut my hours back so not having to pay rent has helped - if I wasn’t able to take 10 weeks off and go back at part time I think I’d be literally insane at the moment. So anyway, I gave the phone to my mother and about five minutes later I came back in the room to see what they were talking about. Every summer we take a big family vacation - we have a cabin in the mountains and everyone stays up there. I have a room - usually I’ll share it with a cousin. Ryan’s dad has come up the past two summers for a few days and my grandma has insisted that he not stay in my room. This year was supposed to be different. Ryan was supposed to be there. His dad was supposed to take the entire week off. It was supposed to be our first family vacation with Ryan. And obviously there was little my uptight grandmother could do considering we had a child. I was looking forward to this more than anything else. It is going to be a very hard week knowing there should be a little baby there...the one thing that will make it tolerable is knowing Ryan's dad will be there with me for part of it. Well, like I said my grandma called this morning pitching a fit about whether or not he’d be there and where he'd sleep and the message it gives to the younger cousins who are there because we are not married. I wanted to rip the phone from my mom’s ear and scream at her. I did not. I simply told my mom to tell her if this was going to be a problem then I would not come. Ryan should be there - and because he’s not my grandmother reverts back to the old way as if nothing happened to change anything. Now, don’t get the wrong idea - my family actually really loves Ryan’s dad - they’re just old fashioned and I am not. I don’t care if we’re not married, it was never a big deal to me - we had a child! I sent her an e-mail explaining in further detail that he will be coming and we will be staying together, or I will not come at all.

I just wanted a peaceful vacation with time spent relaxing at the lake - I really, really need it. It may seem stupid to put my foot down about something so insignificant as where Ryan’s dad sleeps but to me it seems insane for her to throw a fit when we had and lost a child together.

There is no Rainbow...

I thought for a split second there was a chance for a rainbow. But I should have known better than to get my hopes up. I dont even have anything more to say...I just wish I could be writing that there was a rainbow today...

Friday, June 19, 2009

who is that girl in the mirror?

Yesterday was hard. I woke up telling myself I'd make it just any other day. But it wasn't just any other day. Yesterday was four months since I lost Ryan. I decided that I was going to get my kids some cupcakes. Even though they didn't know - no one but me knew - but they were for him. Instead of it being "four months since I lost him"...I tried to think of it as what would have been his four month birthday. A celebration instead of another memorial. It didn't really help as much as I thought it would - but it's always feels good to do something, anything, for Ryan. I finished something else for him this week. I had planned to paint the letters of his name to hang above his crib.....but his crib never got put together, he never slept in it, he never came home. I decided last week to paint them anyway. Now they're hanging in my room, next to his shelf where I have all of this things. Here is a picture:

So, yesterday morning I held it together pretty well. I didn't cry when I woke up. I didn't cry when I went to the store and got the cupcakes. So tell me why I cried when I had to change my pants??? BACK STORY: I got a pair of Khaki's when I started wearing maternity clothes - they eventually were too short because of the protruding belly, then I got another pair and right when I lost Ryan something got on them (weird stain, couldn't get it off)...so I decided to dye those pants when I went back to work (I've tried to dye them black about 10 times now, a few more dye jobs and maybe they will no longer be egg plant purple). So yesterday morning I put on my 3rd pair of Khakis and looked down and there's little spots all over the legs (bleach from mopping at work). I was pissed, took them off and sprayed them with stuff (hoping that even though I knew it was bleach it might have been something else that would come off). So then I put on my first pair of Khakis which fit better now because I no longer have a baby belly. I walked out the door, got in the car and looked down and there was a stain on these pants (it looked like someone drew on them). I'm not sure why but this made me start bawling. I think it was just the stress of the day and something going wrong. I cried for about ten minutes as I ran back into the house, put on black pants (I was wearing a blue shirt - I NEVER wear black with blue) and drove to work. Yes, I'm sure you are reading this thinking "so what" but I just didn't need something crappy happening. And it really bothers me when something happens to my maternity clothes - like they're linked to Ryan.
On another note, work this week was less stressful. Instead of 9-6 every day I'm now working 12-6 Monday-Thursday and 9-6 on Friday. Much easier. When I get to work they're already laying down...so for 2 and a half hours I pretty much just watch them sleep. The afternoons are easier than the mornings.
Only 21 more days until my vacation and only 13 more work days. Every summer we go to a cabin up in the mountains for a week. I'm almost hesitant to go this year - except less family will be there and I think the relaxation of just laying by a lake for a week might actually be good for me. The thing is, Ryan is supposed to be with me. We're supposed to have to take an extra car because were supposed to have so much baby stuff. I have the bedroom upstairs...I'm supposed to bring his playpen for him to sleep in, he's supposed to cry in the middle of the night and wake up my whole family. There will be no crying baby. This was supposed to be my summer. I was supposed to have 10 weeks off with my son. I was supposed to be able to spend my favorite holiday (4th of July) holding my son. Now I'm planning on hiding out in bed that day. I was supposed to bring my son on vacation...I don't know how I'm going to face the silence of that room without him there.
This is not my summer.
This is not my life. Or at least it doesn't seem like it. I feel like I'm living some stranger's life. You know how you sometimes hear people say they don't see themselves when they look in the mirror? Well that's how I feel. Theres some other person looking back at me. There's pain in the eyes of this person and tears that are always just on the edge of pouring down...there's anger written all over her face and you can tell she's withdrawn from everything around her - like nothing really matters much. That's not me. Or that's not who I was anyway.
Will I ever be me again?

Thursday, June 18, 2009


Remembering by Elizabeth Dent

Go ahead and mention my child,
The one who died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.
Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing,
The tears that I try to hide.
I'm hurt when you keep silent,
Pretending he didn't exist.
I'd rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he has been missed.
You ask me how I was doing.
I say "pretty good" or "fine."
But healing is something ongoing.
I feel it will take a lifetime.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Four months tomorrow...

It has been 17 weeks today. Four Months Tomorrow. 17 weeks ago I woke up pregnant. I went to work pregnant, I went to school pregnant...and then I after talking to the doctor who ultimately delivered Ryan I checked myself into the hospital just after 11:30pm pregnant. What if I had gotten myself to the hospital earlier that night, or even that morning or the day before.....would everything be different? What if we had decided to have the c-section earler...would he be in my arms right now? I wonder this each and every day. Only five short hours after getting to the hospital my son was ripped from me (quite literally). APGAR=0. As I was laying on that table I realized he should have been crying, but still I told myself he'd be fine.....you see it on TV all the time, it takes a second and then everything is fine.....It wasn't until Joe looked me in the eyes, tears streaming down the face of a man who never cries, and told me he had died that I realized he was really gone. As I sat there...staring at him, listening to the doctors and nurses talk as they sewed me up, it was as if I was having an out of body experience. I watched what everyone was doing but I wasn't a part of it. There is a quote I often find myself relating to..."Looking back, I've often thought the doctors should have written a death certificate for me as well as my son, for when he died, a part of me died, too." No...I'm not suicidal - I could never, would never harm myself. But that doesn't mean I don't sometimes think that if something had happened it wouldn't have been the worst thing. Not for me. It might have been better if I had, I could be with my son. It's true. I had a c-section. It's a serious surgery. I could have died. Even though I didn't, I still feel like I did. I live every single day feeling hollow - like there is something missing and without what's missing nothing really matters much anymore. Truth be told it is slowly getting better. I have to admit that. But it will be a long time before I can laugh without feeling guilty, a long time before absolutely everything doesn't make me think of Ryan (and I mean EVERYTHING...movies, laundry detergent, a pencil...EVERYTHING), and Im not sure that Ryan will ever not be the first thought on my mind when I wake up and the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep.
I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow...its going to be a very hard day...

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

grief is a dance...

I stole this from another bereaved mother's blog...couldn't have described it better myself...obviously for me it'd be "son" but I didn't want to change her writing.....

There is a lot of pressure that comes with grieving. Every day, we get watched, observed, sized up.

People are constantly looking to us to set the tone. We can hear them holding their breath, waiting for us to smile, or laugh, or cry.

We are also holding our breath, waiting to see how people will react to us.

If we laugh, will people think we’re being disrespectful to our daughter? Because sometimes we laugh.

If we cry, will we make people feel awkward? Because we cry, a lot.

If we smile, will people think we’re okay? Because we’re not okay. We’re not better, or fixed, or over it.

It’s this constant up and down, like a thermometer…rising and falling.

But most of all, we put pressure on ourselves. We get tired of crying, but we feel guilty if we don’t.

We miss hearing her voice, but just the sound of it can throw us into utter despair.

Our friends invite us to things. We want to be with them. But sometimes it’s just too much. We hope they keep inviting. We hope one day it won’t be too much.

Grief is a dance we don’t know the steps to, but we shuffle along, trying not to mess up.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

I'm not sure I ever wrote this on here, but even if I did it might help to repeat it for the sake of the story..... about six weeks after losing Ryan I took my dog for a walk and walked past a park I had walked past about one hundred times before - but on that day something stuck out to me that brought me to my knees. There were swings...a few normal ones as well as baby ones. Ryan would never swing. I would never see his nervous but excited face the first time he sat in a swing. I cried an ocean full of tears and stared out at the park, which in that instant was one of the most painful sights I'd seen in quite a while. All of the sudden a swarm of butterflies were all around me. I'm not lying or being over dramatic, there were probably 20-30 butterflies. All I could think of was that it was my son trying to comfort me. Prior to losing him, if someone had told me the same story I'd be the skeptic...but I believe it was him, other things have happened prior to that and since than that also give me chills and make me believe he's looking over me always.

Friday at work we brought the chalk out for the kids to play with. While I was working on some paperwork and watching the children play one of the kids came up to me "Miss Jamie Miss Jamie you have to come see what I drew" he told me. I told him he'd have to hold on because I was busy. He then said "NO you have to come NOW!" I agreed, followed him, and asked "What did you draw?" He told me "A butterfly". I looked down and he had indeed drawn a butterfly. It took me a second to catch my breath and then I asked him "Why did you draw this" and he told me "Because butterflies like you". =)

On a separate note...

I was talking to my mom this morning and was telling her about some weird dream I had (I don't even remember what it was now) and then she told me "I had a dream you told me you were pregnant" All I could say was "I wish." Lets hope shes psychic...

I went to get my hair cut today. I went to the same place I always do. I sat in the same chair I always do. I talked to the same lady who always cuts my hair. The last time I was there I was pregnant. I had a baby on the way...I was so excited, I couldn't wait to meet him.....I had hopes and dreams. I have none of that now. I didn't cry (does it make me insensitive or less caring because I dont cry over things like this...all my angel mommy friends do) I just got very quite and thought for a long time about Ryan and how every place I go from now on that I haven't been to in a while will probably bring forward the same overwhelming sadness. The hair dresser who was doing my moms hair asked about the baby, I didn't hear it but my mom told me later. It's a good thing I didn't hear it. I have a feeling THAT might have brought about the illusive tears.

I dont cry every day anymore. This seems fast to me, like I should still be crying every day, all day. Most of the moms who lost their children around when I lost Ryan still cry multiple times a day. I think its just because thats who I am - I've never been a cryer. And when I do cry its always when I'm alone...unless its something I cant control (like my breakdown at work). Sometimes I even wish I did cry more. Im not sure why - who wants to cry??? I just feel like I cant do anything right.....I couldn't keep my baby safe...hell, I cant even grieve right.

My aunt asked my mom if I have been seen by a doctor and whether they think I might have post partum depression and told her that if I wasn't on depression medicine I probably should be. Because pills fix everything. Apparently my status updates on myspace make her think I'm having a very difficult time. WELL DUH. My baby died. I held him in my arms for three days (which apparently was wrong of the doctors to allow me to hold him if you ask my aunt or grandma)...I wish they could understand I would have stayed in that hospital room, in that bed, with him in my arms forever if I could have...I loved my baby more than life and if I could trade places with him, so he could be here and enjoy life, I would.

I would rather be his angel.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

the hangover...

Dont really have much to write tonight. But I wanted to make a note of something. I laughed tonight. This may not be a big deal to most people - but for almost four months now I've either not laughed at all or cut myself off as soon as I started laughing. We went to a movie tonight though..."The Hangover"...it was SO funny. It felt good to laugh. Of course, after every laugh I still felt the fimilar pang of guilt I feel whenever I have a fleeting moment of happiness. "My son is gone, why should I be happy?" But like I said...it felt good to laugh. I felt like, for the first time, maybe Ryan wouldn't want me to be sad all the time. It doesn't mean I wont be...but maybe it was a step forward.....

"Grief: It's a 2 steps forward, one step back kinda thing"

Monday, June 08, 2009

didn't want to cry in front of you

What is eight pounds, wrinkled from head to toe, and dressed in blue? A brand new baby boy.

I am prepared for babies when I go to Target, I am prepared for the 2 babies we have in our center (both girls) but I was not prepared for the brand new baby that a parent brought in today to show off. He looked like he couldn't be more than 2 weeks old - which probably meant that he was born on or around Ryan's due date. I had a complete break down in the middle of my classroom. For about five minutes I had horrible anxiety and I couldn't help but look over at the mom holding her brand new baby, I tried to keep my composure, I tried to keep it together - but I couldn't help but notice the adoration in her eyes and the people ogling over the precious bundle of joy - I couldn't help but think that should be me and Ryan. The anxiety got worse...I couldn't breathe and I completely lost it in front of my kids. Well, technically I went to the side of the room and tried to make it so they couldn't see me - but they knew something was wrong. They saw the tears, and when it got worse, I actually had to remove myself from the classroom...I went outside and cried for a good ten minutes...when I came back in almost every single child asked if I was okay. They knew I'd been crying.

I didn't want to ever cry in front of them.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

breast feeding survey the mail...

I received a letter in the mail yesterday. I didn't sit down to look at it until today. The return address said "The Research Institute of Mother and Child Care". My first reaction was that it must be junk mail, but that was quickly replaced by the gut feeling that it actually had something to do with Ryan. So, pain seeker that I am, I opened it. Inside was a letter asking for me to participate in a random survey. The letter said

"The questions apply to the youngest infant in your home, regardless of whether you breastfeed or use infant formula." and "We value your experiences as a parent."

There is no infant in my home. And I have no experiences as a parent with the exception of caring for my dead babies body for three days. Sorry for being so frank. I don't know why but I put the letter in with my box full of Ryan's stuff. The letter came to me because I was supposed to have an infant here...I just feel wrong throwing away anything pertaining to my sweet baby boy.

I looked at the survey...imagining what I would have filled in had Ryan been with me today. Due Date: May 26th 2009. Age now: my answer would probably be 1 month or so. Birth date: ?? Weight at birth: ?? Breast milk or formula: breast milk. There's more to the survey but you get the point.

I wish I had my son with me right now...I was I was too busy taking care of him to look at some stupid survey...and I really wish I had the answer to fill in on that survey.

Saturday, June 06, 2009

going back...

How weird is it that going somewhere could bring up such a wave of emotions? I went to Panda Express last night - was in the mood for some fattening, sodium rich, Chinese food before I start my diet - and as I walked in the doors it hit me: I hadn't been there since before I lost Ryan. The last time I walked through those doors I was pregnant. Today I decided that things have been pretty hard and I needed to treat myself to something nice for a chance - so I took myself to get my nails done. Again, as I walked through the doors I realized the last time I went in was when I was pregnant. I don't know why but this realization was hard. It's been three and a half months. I don't expect to ever be "over it" and relatively speaking three months is a very short time in this whole grieving process, but I didn't expect to be hit so hard just going some place. Now it's got me thinking, is it going to be this way with everything? The last time I got my hair cut I was pregnant - will I freak out when I go to get it cut again? The last time I went to Reno, or San Francisco I was pregnant - will I stop myself from going back in fear of a total breakdown? The list goes on and on. For anyone who truly knows me, I don't let myself break down - its a general rule I've had for pretty much my whole life. Any crying happens behind closed doors if I can help it and I always try very very hard to stop crying asap. Its weird because I talk to my angel mommy friends and there are some who are 3-6 months further into this journey than I am and they still cry tons every single day. I will say I tear up every day, but do I let it out? No. It's almost like a natural physical reaction - I couldn't let it out if I wanted to. Don't get me wrong - I have my days where I cant keep it in (always in private) and I cry but I stop myself after a minute or two. Maybe I would benefit from a good, long, half hour cry fest. I just don't think I have it in me. I think I try my hardest not to face my demons. And if that means burying how I truly feel then I do it. This is probably not the best means of grieving - my guess is 5 years from now I will be worse off because of this...but who knows, maybe not.

On another note, my job is killing me. I go to work and somewhere within 15-60 minutes I want to punch a wall - or ram my head into one. I don't know what it is exactly. It's no more stressful than when I worked there before (which has me wondering about the stress level during my pregnancy) but its just like every little thing irks me. I work with children. Probably the worst field possible to work in when having just lost a baby. But I've worked with kids years and it's not the best time to go looking for a new job. Anyway, when I'm there I often get this feeling, almost like a vertigo feeling, where the room is spinning and the kids are just loud and screaming and their voices are so annoying and I cant stop it the room from going round and round and there is such disarray and its so loud and I cant think straight and part of me is afraid I'm going to pass out and another part of me wants to burst out in tears but I cant and I don't because well quite frankly it would scare the shit out of the kids and like previously mentioned I don't cry in front of others. Instead I get in my car on my lunch break and then I break down for my typical 30 second cry (although sometimes I cry the whole way home - all of two minutes) and then I pull myself together and force my thoughts onto something else, anything else. I say it jokingly with my co-worker, but I'm actually quite serious - if something at work doesn't change, or I don't find a new job soon I'm seriously afraid I may come home in a straight jacket one of these days...........I just miss my son so much and working with other peoples children in that environment is probably not the best place for me right now. But bills have to be paid - and for that you need money!

My angel mommy friends and I are all doing a craft exchange. I'm excited - I get to focus my attention somewhere productive. I hope we can get started soon - we group up into groups of 5 or 6 and make unique little gifts for eachother having something to do with our angels. It should be fun. It got me wanting to do something else crafty so I went out today and got wood letters for Ryan's name. I was going to paint them origionally for his room but obviously I didn't get to that - anyway I decided that I would go ahead and do it anyway and put it above his shelf in my room. I hope they turn out okay..

Friday, June 05, 2009

something weird happened today.....

So, during my pregnancy I played Ryan piano music almost every day from about 18 weeks up until the day I lost him. There was one track in particular that would ALWAYS make him move. #8 on my oceanside piano disk. It was weird, I would play the whole cd and he'd kick a little bit but all of the sudden he'd start kicking like crazy and every time it happened I'd look down and it'd be track #8! When I returned to work I copied my CD and brought it in to listen to for nap time music. We always put the disk on "repeat all" so it goes through the cd over and over again. Earlier in the week however I noticed that it had started playing #8 a few times in a row. I walked over to the CD player and instead of saying "repeat all" it had changed to "repeat". No one had touched it but I figured I must just be insane to think anything of this. Well today we had the cd on again and again it was on "repeat all" and for 3 hours it had played through the cd over and over again....then all of the sudden I again realized it had played #8 several times in a row. I walked over and again instead of being on "repeat all" it was just on "repeat" again. None of the kids can reach the CD player. My co-teacher said she didn't touch it and she also does not know the relevance of this particular song so she would have no reason to touch it. I couldn't help but to get a huge (genuine) smile. Those are few and far between as I imagine all of you know. I felt like it had to be a sign from my Ryan........

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Lifes Not Fair

Day in and day out I see and hear things that make me physically ill...I want to punch something or take scissors to a pillow or throw dishes as hard as I can at the wall. Mothers who cant take 10 minutes out of their day to read their child a book or teach them to write their names so they can actually get in to kindergarten. Mothers who drop their children off at daycare the second the doors open and pick them up five minutes before the center closes (this is a 12+ hour day...). Parents who come in to pick up their children REEKING of weed or totally off their rockers doped up on some drug. New mothers complaining about being woken up five times a night or not getting more than three hours of sleep because of their newborns. Pregnant people who don't take care of themselves - how hard is it to cut caffeine out of your diet for 10 months? Consuming caffeine doubles the risk of miscarriage. Yet countless women cant suck it up and do whats in their babies best interest. Why is it the mentally sick people, the perverted people, the unstable people, the twisted & distrubing people, the druggies (I could go on and on) ... why is it these people bring home babies, sometimes many of them, and my son is not with me today? I'm pounding the keys as I type this. It is infuriating. I loved my son from the moment I found out I was pregnant. I took my prenatals religiously. I had MAYBE the total of 2 cans of caffeinated soda throughout my entire pregnancy. I stayed as stress free as possible. I took care of myself. And I would have taken care of Ryan as good as a parent possibly could take care of a child. This I know for sure. I have always been the motherly type.
I should not be typing this right now. I should be holding my beautiful baby boy - staring at him in amazement...slowly memorizing every inch of his body. I should have diapers and wipes in every room. I should have Ryan's stuff filling my house, instead of wrapped up in the garage. Nothing is right in the world anymore. I wake up each and every day to a world that makes no sense - I wish I could fall asleep and just stay asleep for months...and then wake up in a place that made sense.
I would give my right arm or my ability to walk if it meant I had sleepless nights due to my son waking me up countless times...I wish people appreciated what they have...