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She soars

11 Mar

I got some sad news today from a friend who got pregnant right around the time I had my miscarriage. She helped me a lot through that tough time because I felt I could share all my sadness with her; it was also therapeutic to focus on her happy news and excitement. Unfortunately, today she found out that she lost her baby. She’s devastated and I can’t even begin to say how sad I am for her and for her whole family.

It reminded me about a post I’ve been mulling over for some time but haven’t written, the one with the song I wrote to help me process my miscarriage. I think this is it.

Back in January, I was using Google Images to find a picture of a GT snow racer and ended up on a blog post that was several years old. The blog had been started by a woman who was expecting her first child. After reading a few of the old entries, I clicked on the masthead to see the most recent post. The most recent post was a year old and linked to the writer’s new blog, but the one right before it told the story of her daughter Ava’s birth. It was a heartbreaking read because Ava died only 7 hours after she was born.

I clicked over to the new blog and — happily! — was greeted by a picture of a gorgeous one-year-old boy. Karla still blogs, and many of her posts are about her beautiful son Nate. That blog is now one of my regular reads.

In exploring the blog, I found a poem that Karla had written for Ava, which she entitled “She Soars“. I’d been wanting to create something to honour the little baby we never got to meet, but I wanted it to be hopeful rather than depressing. Karla’s poem was exactly what I needed to experience. I started out thinking I’d set Karla’s poem to music, but my laptop died and I couldn’t get back on the web, so instead I wrote some new words based on the idea she had given me.

Michael took this recording for a me a couple of weeks ago and I wasn’t entirely happy with the take, but the camera batteries were dying and now he’s out of town, so I guess I’ll live with it. The video quality is lousy because I compressed it so much (slow Internet connection from my oooold computer) but I kinda like the underwater effect, don’t you?

This song is dedicated to Karla, Ava, Stacie, Bobbi, Amanda, Heather, and all of our little angels.

(Here’s a direct link to the YouTube page in case the embedded file doesn’t work for you:
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=qIxhrAgeHyo
)

She Soars

You can float, you can fly
To the heavens so high
Still you will never fly too far from me
You can sing, you can sigh
But you’ll never have to cry
As my love holds you up like a boat on the sea

You can laugh, you can love
As you watch from up above
You will never have this weight to drag you down
You are pure, you are free
You are all that you can be
And my music holds you up on a river of sound

Soar so high
You’re still mine
Tears for you are true
She soars so high
On wings divine
You’re in my heart
So fly, soar so high

You’re a hope, you’re a dream
You’re the one who’s never been
To a place where hurt and pain can bend you low
Like a spark, like a star
I love everything you are
So soar, my little angel, I’m letting you go

Soar so high
You’re still mine
Tears for you are true
Yes, she soars so high
I’m so glad that you can fly
You are in my heart
So fly, now soar so high

— January 9, 2008

Copyright © Fawn Fritzen, 2008

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The more you know

18 Jan

After Big Band rehearsals on Monday nights, some of the guys like to head out for a drink and munchies at the Kopper King. I say guys because there are only three other women in the band besides myself, but none of them usually come out for this. I’m not sure if they’re more responsible than I am about being alert for work the next day, or if they’re just way smarter than me in terms of avoiding chicken wings and nacho chips with all the fixins on a weekly basis.

I enjoy this part of the night because, as I mentioned earlier this week, there’s not a lot of actual socializing that goes on during rehearsals (which is just as it should be) so this is a good time to actually get to know a little more about my fellow band-mates. Don’t you find that the more you know about someone, the more interesting they become?

Last Monday, the subject of blogging came up and I got asked what the heck I keep a blog for, anyway. And isn’t it stressful coming up with things to write about?

Well, as I’ve said before, blogging started out as a way for me to keep friends and family in the loop about what we were up to in the far (or not-so-far) north. But gradually I started finding other people’s blogs and learning about their lives and getting to feel like these other blogging people were friends. (And in fact, some of them really have become friends offline, too.) I’ll say it again: don’t you find that the more you know about someone, the more interesting they become? Hmm, I suppose the corollary to that is that I hope you’ll learn about me and find me interesting, too.

Do I ever run out of things to say? Not really. No more than I run out of things to say to my best friends, but hey, I’m a pretty chatty person; I like to talk! And by that, I mean the kind that goes both ways, which is why I love to read and comment on other blogs. The discussion, the shared rejoicing, the sympathy in this community of bloggers – that’s what’s great about being a member of the blogosphere.

Nowhere did I feel that more than when I blogged about my miscarriage. Although I didn’t get a lot of comments on the blog post (thanks to Live Spaces!) I did get quite a lot when the post got imported into Facebook, and I got tons of e-mails. The outpouring of sympathy was so bracing, just exactly what I needed.

Blogging can be inspiring, too. A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled across a mommyblog that led to me writing a new song that has been wanting to be written ever since the miscarriage. I needed to do something to help – you know – process the experience. But I didn’t want to write something really depressing. Or trite. Or maudlin. This woman’s poem about her little daughter crystallized something in me. I won’t tell you any more about that right now because I’m hoping to share the song with you sometime soon and the story deserves its own post.

What can I say, I’m a people who needs people. Which is why a pint of, um, ginger ale with greasy finger food shared with good company is also a Good Thing in my book.

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Perspective

30 Nov
Wow, you guys are amazing.  I’ve had so many messages of love and support over the last few days, and you can’t know how much it has meant to me.  I actually already feel a whole lot better, which kind of worries me, because shouldn’t I still be crying buckets?  I guess there will probably be ups and downs, but I’m really very surprised at how accepting I feel already.  In fact, a friend of mind told me she thought she might be pregnant, and instead of feeling hugely envious (as I was in the months when we were trying to get pregnant) I was just thrilled for her.
 
There are a number of things that are helping me to feel fairly peaceful today.  For one, I had really been mentally preparing for bad news for a couple of weeks, not really believing everything was okay.  I had been reading about the baby’s development in my pregnancy journal every day (dang, that thing cost 25 bucks!) but not believing it was actually happening inside me — and it wasn’t. 
 
One of the things I had been most anxious about was that I wanted my kids to be close in age, and had this baby lived, they would already have been 2.5 years apart (compared to 16 months for me and my sis).  Linsday pointed out to me that there are three years between her and Tim, and they’re actually quite close.  Same goes for my mom and her sister.  So that makes me feel better about whatever age gap.
 
And then there are the stories of loss from friends; sharing really does make the pain easier to bear.  And some of the things I’ve learned actually make me feel that I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways.  For one thing, although I felt like I’d been pregnant a while because I learned of it so early on, I was barely at 8 weeks (that’s 6 weeks from conception), while quite a few friends lost their babies in their third month.  One friend miscarried even later than that and is still haunted by it over three years and two kids later.  The longer the pregnancy goes on, the more emotional investment there is in it.  Well, that doesn’t sound quite right, but every day you dream a few more dreams and become that much more attached to them.  And having the miscarriage happen sooner could mean we get to try again sooner as well. 
 
A number of friends got pregnant again within 4 months of their miscarriages and had healthy babies — that’s not so long to wait.  Not that that’s when it’ll necessarily happen again for us, but it’s a comfort.  It might even be easier for me now to be a little more relaxed about trying to get pregnant, rather than watching anxiously for all the signs of the right moment to conceive.  (Sorry, Michael, I can’t guarantee I’ll stay relaxed!)
 
Another big help is that I have Jade.  Not only is she the light of my life, but she’s also proof that I can have children.  I can only imagine how scary it would be to have a miscarriage on my first pregnancy, to have the pain of losing a baby on top of the fear that I might never have children.
 
Finally, I went and had that ultrasound appointment today.  The only bad part of it was that my appointment was set for 1:00, but I didn’t get in until 1:30.  I swear, this should be made illegal.  The agony of my bladder being that full is indescribable.  I don’t know if it’s the fact that I had to drink the 1L of water with my lunch, but I didn’t feel nearly this bad when I the ultrasound for Jade, and I was 18 weeks pregnant then!  Before getting into the appointment, I actually went to the toilet twice to "let out just a little", as the nurse put it, because I couldn’t stand it.  Even still, the ultrasound technician said, "Yup, you’re pretty full."  And got me to go to the bathroom and let out about half of it.  ("I know it’s hard to judge," she said, "so try counting to 10, and then stop."  Have you ever had a pee where you could’ve counted past 10?!)  What a relief!  The technician was very open; she said she’d send the pics to the radiologist and I could confirm with the doc next week, but as far as she could tell my uterus looked pretty empty and clean.  So I think I’ll be off the hook for a D&C, which is my final reason to feel grateful.
 
I’m not saying that I’m "over it".  It’s still sad to have lost a baby.  But since it had to happen, I’m grateful that it happened, in a sense, in the best possible way.  And, like many women who have had a miscarriage, I like to think that I now have a little angel in heaven, waiting just for me.

Emptiness

28 Nov
Please note that there may be details in this post that some people won’t want to read.  If you’re the type to cry "TMI!" over some honesty, then stop reading now.
 
I came home from work a little bit early yesterday because I could feel the flow of blood increasing and was starting to get cramps.  Michael and Tim came down to pick me up, then Michael ran into the bank and then we went to get Jade.  All in all it didn’t take long, but it seemed like forever, since all I wanted was to get into bed.  I took the precaution of putting a couple of towels under me before I lay down.  I thought if this was it, it might be messy.
 
From the time I lay down to the time Michael had supper ready, I had bled more than I had all weekend.  I debated going to the hospital, which had been suggested earlier in the day by the woman at the medical imaging lab when I’d called to see if I could get an earlier ultrasound appointment.  She told me that there was no technician in Whitehorse until Friday, but said if my bleeding got heavier to go to Emergency.  When I asked what they would do for me there, she said they would check fluid levels and stuff.  I don’t know what fluid levels they would check, given the early stage of pregnancy.  There’s nothing anyone can do to stop a miscarriage at this point, and I figured if it was going to happen, I’d rather be at home, even if I did have to clean up the mess.
 
Anyway, I spent the evening watching a movie and trying to get an overtired Jade to go to sleep, while Michael puttered around doing laundry and packing his bags, as he left early this morning to go south to retrieve the replacement vehicle he bought down there.  I went to sleep crying because I was having cramps.  It didn’t hurt, but every time I felt my insides contracting I wanted to shout, "Stop!"  I just didn’t want the pregnancy to be over.
 
Tim picked Michael up at 7:00 this morning, and I got up to get Jade ready for daycare.  From the moment I got up, I knew everything would be over soon.  There was some more cramping and a lot more blood.  (If you’ve landed here because you’re looking for stories of miscarriage, don’t worry.  There was no gushing, or anything, it wasn’t that intense.  It was controllable with pads, but I’ve never seen the water in the toilet bowl get so red.)  Selfishly, all I wanted was to get rid of Jade so that I could be alone.
 
My biggest fear was that the baby had developed to a point where I would be able to see it… and that I’d miss it.  I hated the thought of that little start of a human being getting flushed down the toilet or washed away in the shower.  I felt that if there was enough baby to see, I’d want to, I don’t know, have a little burial ceremony somewhere or something.
 
While I was getting Jade ready, I felt something happen.  Some tissue had passed out of me that was definitely more than a blood clot.  Nothing that looked like it could have been a baby, so I suppose it was the developing placenta or amniotic sac.  (Jade saw me looking at it and said, "Ewww!" which at least gave me a little chuckle.)I’m guessing that this means whatever baby there was was too small to see.  It makes me wonder how far he got before he died.
 
Anyway, my best guess is that the worst of the physical stuff is over.  I suppose I’ll keep bleeding for a while.  And leaking tears at sporadic intervals, too.  I know miscarriage happens to a lot of women, but it still seems so unfair.  To the women who have e-mailed me over the past two weeks in support, thank you again.  Especially to the women who have shared their stories of miscarriage with me, thank you.
 
Now just one more thing.  I don’t want to hear anyone tell me that "it was meant to be".  I don’t want to hear that "there must have been a reason".  I don’t want to hear "don’t worry, you’ll have another one".  Don’t say "you’ll have fun trying again" (ha! – spoken like someone who’s never worked at it).  Most of these things have not been said to me, but many of the women who told me their stories heard them, and it doesn’t help.  No matter if there was a reason or if there will be other babies, this baby was real from the moment he was conceived and losing this baby is what matters right now.

Ultrasound

26 Nov
It’s set for Friday.  That’s not exactly within 48 hours, but considering there’s just one ultrasound machine in Whitehorse and a dearth of technicians, I guess it’ll have to do.  *sigh* Just this week to get through.

Medical update

26 Nov
I called the doctor’s office first thing this morning and found that in order to ask for the ultrasound and/or referral, I’d have to go in to see Dr. Patel in person.  So off I went at 11:30 (thanks to Tim, who was our personal chauffeur and nanny this morning, first to get groceries, and then the doctor’s office, and baby-sitting Jade while I was with the doctor, and now he’s about to go pick up Michael at the airport…)
 
When I told Dr. Patel I wasn’t comfortable just continuing to wait and wanted either an ultrasound or a referral, he jumped right into action.  He faxed off an ultrasound request right away, asking that it be done in the next 48 hours.  He filled out a form for me to get some bloodwork done.  He also did a pelvic exam to make sure everything was feeling the way it’s supposed to.  He did up the form to have me referred to Dr. Gudapati, since he doesn’t generally do prenatal care.  Dr. Gudapti used to specialise in high-risk prenatal care, and although I hope I don’t yet qualify for high-risk, it is comforting to know that I’ll have a doctor who is experienced in the field.  (Although I must say I hope it doesn’t increase my chances of interventions.  Well, I’ve heard lots of good things about her, so I’m sure my point of view will be taken into account.)
 
I guess this is another good lesson in being an advocate for yourself and knowing what you want.  I’m sure that if I had asked him to last week, Dr. Patel would have done the ultrasound and referral right away, but his first instinct was that things were okay, so why not wait and see, a conservative approach that I normally appreciate.  But, as Marusia put it, in this case not knowing is just "crazy making"; I was feeling too vulnerable last week to be confident about what I wanted.
 
I’m supposed to call the medical imaging lab this afternoon to find out when they can squeeze me in.  I’ll keep you posted.

Thank you

23 Nov

Thanks to everyone who have sent me e-mails or phoned in the last couple of days.  You can’t possibly know how much it has helped to have gotten so many messages of love and support. 

It’s cheered me up so much, that I’m actually feeling a lot more positive that this might all turn out with a healthy baby after all.  I’m still bleeding a bit, but not as much, and the number of times I’ve heard people say they had friends who had similar experience and still had a baby has been comforting.

At the same time, I think I’m a bit more mentally prepared (though how could anyone really be prepared?) for the possibility of bad news.  I was wondering over the last few days why I’ve never really heard anything about miscarriage. I wondered, if the baby died and it was at an early stage (as in, too small to see) how would I know when everything’s over?  If the baby was a little bigger, would I see it?   With all the self-revealing information, TV shows, blogs etcetera out there, why have I never heard anything about what a miscarriage is actually like?

Well, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, the information is out there, you just have to look for it.  I guess these experiences are so sad and so personal, they’re not usually right "out there".  And I guess not too many of us really want to look for it.  After finding some of the stories, I must say that I’m wondering if I ought to go back to the doctor and insist that he send me for an ultrasound.  Then we would at least know one way or the other.

Michael figures I must still be pregnant because I’m being so clumsy.  (Yesterday I managed to slam the edge of my middle finger in the closet doors and I am now sporting a beautiful black blood blister as a reward.)  I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not, but I’m willing to go with it for now.

Fear

21 Nov
Two days after Nem’s wedding, I made an unpleasant discovery while in the bathroom, one of those things you never want to see when you’re in the early stages of pregnancy.  It’s been a week since that day, and although I’ve had reassuarance from Internet research and from a friend at the wedding who happens to be a doctor, the "spotting" has gradually turned into more of a slow flow.
 
Up until today, I’ve managed to worry just a little, to stay fairly numb and detached.  But I made a doctor’s appointment, and when I went this afternoon, I broke down in tears as I acknowledged the possibility of miscarriage.
 
Based on the description of my symptoms, Dr. Patel doesn’t think it sounds like I am miscarrying.  But when I asked what the symptoms were, he said more bleeding and stronger cramps, which isn’t very reassuring, given that I rarely feel cramps.  Hell, when I was in labour with Jade, I dilated 4 cm without even really feeling it.  And, even as he said it, it was as if the cramps were starting to come.
 
We did another urine test, which came back positive, though I don’t know how reassured I should be, since hCG hormone can stick around for several weeks after a miscarriage.
 
We’re taking a "wait and see" approach for now.  Dr. Patel tells me to rest (ha!) and if I believe in God or meditation, well, basically to do whatever helps.  The truth is, though, that I’m not feeling much hope at all at the moment. 
 
I know this is why most people don’t like to announce a pregnancy until the second trimester, but I’m no good at keeping quiet about myself.  I don’t want to say what I will do on the next time around, though.  I guess part of me is still hoping that THIS time isn’t over yet.
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