Anencephaly.

Previous to the date of May 26th 2011, I had never even heard the medical term Anencephaly. Oddly enough, if one were to not know it was a medically related term, you might find some beauty in it,...like maybe it is the one of many stages a butterfly goes through, or a word like epiphany ...with an equally romantic meaning. But it wasn't. It was (when first spoken to my inquistive ears as pertaining to the tiny being growing inside of me) the most horriffic word I had ever heard. It may have originally sounded pretty but the defination soon turned ugly.
I looked up at the ultrasound screen seeing beautiful formed feet, so tiny and delicate...tiny and perfect hands, torso, beating heart and then,and then I thought maybe the baby was just super squirmy and not allowing the doctor a good full view of her head. I had made the nervous remark, "she looks like a little alien!" in an attempt to make a joke before the something bad that was coming became bad, but it didn't make the news to come any easier. I had said what I did in hopes I was buying myself some time while the doctor who I had grown to trust found his bearing and was able to give us a good, clear image of her head. When he looked down and sighed, I knew. I knew my baby was not ok. I have not often heard good news accompany the sigh of a doctor. When he started speaking my mind was racing with the constant thought, will my baby be ok, is my baby going to be ok, is my baby healthy, will she make it though this and have a good life?" over and over those were the words I could only hear until the doctor said, "anecephaly". I wanted to think it was something angelic, safe, out of this cruel world. That it was a word associated with all things great. But as he kept talking, I knew that wasnt the case and had to let myself accept that. I squeezed my boyfriends hand harder and harder and sent him silent words that said, "please fix this" as he could fix anything. He just sqeezed back with a voice I'd imagined to say, "we will get through this babe."
When we left the doctor's office I begin to feel an inner pain that I will NEVER be able to decribe in a way that would ever begin to do it justice. I felt the feeling of an unatural thing, the mothers ability to make her child better, was not there. But the pain she may or may not feel was mine. I couldnt grasp how to tell the little being in my body that we would do all we could to make it right. I felt that I was failing as a mother.
We were sent to a specialist the following afternoon. The hours before the appointment are a blur. My mind raced. I knew in my heart of hearts that my baby girl was not ok but I still allowed myself to fantasize that she was or would be. I remember thinking that it was a must that her hair be in pigtails for her Kindergarten picture, tearing up thinking of my baby growing up. But the specialist confirmed my doctors suspiscions and then we were faced with a descion I never could have dreamt of having to make. Our options were to abort. That was instantly not an option for me. I could feel my tiny baby kicking and whirling about in my womb and her life meant more to me then that. Meant more to me then a procedure that would not allow her to be as whole and complete as I pictured her to be in my mind. Our second option was to carry her to term, knowing she would not make it more than a few hours at best. I was fearsome that if I carried her to term she would suffer. She would feel pain. And as her mother I wanted her to feel no pain. I would not be able to live with myself if I had anything to do with causing my child pain. I was her mother and would do all that I could to protect her from all things that would hurt her. I was also scared of what it would do to me mentally and emotionally. If I carried her to term and felt her kick and grow, I knew I would love her more and more every day and allow myself to think that the doctors had been wrong and fill my self with hope. My final option was to be induced for labor and deliver her naturally. I chose to deliver. I wanted to feel the pain. She was worth that to me. Her life was worth that to me.
We were sent home after making our choice and scheduled to come in at 6 the following morning.
I had never been more scared in my life. Not only had I never experienced natural labor but I was also trying to prepare myself to bring my baby girl into the world, only to have her leave right away. I don't know how I got through it, but not once did my boyfriend leave my side. When I was hurting, he was hurting. We both delivered her in a sense as the pain was so evident in the both of us. He was my rock. He was my strength, my hope and my rock. I battled with feeling like I had failed him. That I had let him down. That I couldn't even give him a healthly baby. If those thoughts ever crossed his mind, he never spoke of them.
We held our baby girl who died during birth and breathed her in. We tried to memorize her perfect, tiny and delicate features as we knew our hello was goodbye. She was so very beautiful. I didnt want to let her go, but it hurt so deeply to see her born before she was due and knwoing I couldnt make her better. I will never forget the face of my daughter. I will never forget her beautiful angelic face. i will never forget the way it felt as she somersaulted inside of me. And though our time was short, I will always be her mother and I will never forget that.
The past week has been the worst of my life. All I have are black and white pictures of my child and her remains in a box. There seems to be no end to my tears and I feel a void that I don't know if it will ever be filled. As crazy as it sounds I miss my baby. I miss all the could have beens and I miss the sweet smell I only was able to inhale for a small period of time. Days later as I began to lactate it became worse as it was my bodies way of reminding me that my baby needed me. That I was her survival, yet, she was gone.
At this point I can not say much to lean towards optimism, but I am so much more in love with my boyfriend than I ever dreamt I could be. And if you knew the love I had before the loss of our child, you would not see it possible to love him more. Experiencing what we have together, I have no doubt he is the man I am destined to spend the rest of my life with. He stifled his pain for me. He put his emotions aside to show me strength. He encouraged me, loved me and held me when I felt my world ending. I thank God for him. One day I will give him another beautiful child who we will raise in a house of love. But Harper-Grace will always be our daughter. And we will always love her sweetly.

What a sad bubble of lonliness you are in.

Once upon a time...
There was a girl
A girl who frowned through her smiles...and smiled through her frowns.
The girl met a boy...
and they grew up.
Girl met the "man" the boy grew up to be.
Boy says, "you are my unicorn"
Girl melts at stories she had never heard...
Stories the boy told with such wisdom and compassion.
Her heart feels things she never knew existed.
Girl fell in love
Boy tells girl not what she wants to hear exactly, as she couldnt have dreamed someone like him existed, therefore didnt have in mind what she wanted to hear...but he KNEW all the right words...at ALL the right times.
Girl was in love
Girl was in love.
They exchanged messages, confessions, heartaches and pain.
In this sharing they came to be as one.
Names for their future children, images of their someday house made real through conversations.
Girl would wait for him
He was worth that to her.
It was no sacrifice.
None.
Boy cubed girl.
Series of questions.
Series of answers.
Serendipity, he says.
I love you, she says.
Letters, letters, letters
chats, chats, chats.
Dreams shared.
Floating, this girl was.

then.
It.
stopped.
Boy dropped girl like a hot coal.
Suddenly the girl was worried as he had been through so much...
was he ok? is he ill? is he scared? frightened? lonely?
No answer.
No answer, Bella.
You arent worth that.
Apparently girl was on a roller coaster.
And the only one not strapped in.
Boy was prepared for the crash( as he "drove' this coaster)
girl crashed.
Head on.
Hit.
Hard.
Still....girl wonders...is...he...ok?
Love did that to her.
Made her put herself aside...because no one...no smooth talker such as this boy...could possibly be out to hurt her?
Girl was wrong.
Girl tried to cling on to the coaster as it swerved and swayed through broken rails...
and along the way...
she met another
girl...
just getting ready to let go of the same rampant coaster.
why?
they say to one another?
Hadnt we been through enough heartache in our lives?
Girl cries to girl
girl cries to Girl.
Together they help each other carefully off the coaster
and settle back to the ground...
beaten and worn.
Exhausted. Bruised. Hurt and confused.
Shamed.
How could we have been so stupid they say.
2 girls. 1 boy
same story...
different days
I only ask you one thing, Bella...just one thing?
Girl to boy," what? anything for you...just say it."
Boy, "be honest. If you dont lie, there's nothing to remember"

Coward. Coward. Coward.
Is that honest enough for you?
two beautiful girls, 2 beautiful hearts, empathetic, sympathetic and compassionate.
One boy, coward.
I only ask you one thing, Is THAT honest enough for YOU?
Be careful what you wish for.....boy.

You sneaky son of a bitch....life....you did it again

Words words words.
Sometimes it's all we have...all we need...and all we can do to get by. Speak words. Think words. Want words. Need words. Crave words. Curse words. Hate words. Love words. Desire words. Loathe words. Words. Sticks and stones.....but words....

Again. Death. Snarled it's grizzly teeth....roared and screeched it's rotten stench into the quiet beauty of my chaotic life.

And what a beautiful soul it stole in it's thoughtless scavenger hunt amongst us meek humans.

We are all breakable, irreplaceable, delicate little souls doing our duty on this earth...working our way through this life until we get to the next.

Sometimes we feel a pain so deep that it slices through our timid little souls and hushes our ability to think logically....and we lose ourselves...to ourselves.

So many good memories my friend, but not nearly enough. As the days pass I'm beginning to remember our youth together and things that were said. Things that I didn't pay as much creed to as I didn't know your time would be so limited.

For the first time in my life...I am struggling to write about...my dear friend. I can't write about you. It hits too close to home.

Just know...that I know...and you knew that I knew...how it feels. But you taught me to not let it consume me....and I won't.

As I swallow back this lump of tears...I vow that I will pay tribute to you with words when the right words surface to existence.

But know...as I know you know...how loved you are. And I have love. Love I never knew...or always knew? You sneaky son of a bitch....life. It can bleed us dry, can't it?

I won't do as you did...but I will do as you told me. I will savor our chats and your words of wise beyond your years wisdom. I will love and protect those you loved and protected. It's the least I can do....

So party amongst the souls in the glorious party in the sky......and keep watch over us all.

For once in my life...I'm left speechless.

And changes they come without warning

It's been so long since I have blogged. When Nick died all I could do was write....I had so many emotions and so many things to say that writing was my safest outlet. But somewhere along the line I slowed down. I began to write privately so as to not have to filter things for fear of what other people may think when they had read my deepest feelings. I've grown so much and in this growth I have rid myself of all filters. I see no need to second guess my emotions no matter how intense or far off they may appear to others. I have learned that just because my thoughts and feelings are not understood, well....that does not mean they are any less justified. They do not have to make sense to everyone else to make them "real".
Today I found myself overcome with a steady flow of schizophrenic emotions....one emotion gave birth to another...and another ....each emotion had its own personality...and each emotion became like the branches of a tree...reaching out and just sprouting continuous growth within itself. It was a beautiful arrangement of emotions blooming and blooming to the fullest potential....though when I was in the depths of it...it felt so very ugly and heavy....weighing me down like I had the weight of hundred men on my chest.
Last week I watched Nick's brother get married. His girlfriend and him have basically grown up together...experienced love....pain.....gain...and losses. And like the happiest of Shakespeare's stories....they managed to persevere through the worst of the obstacles that life threw their way. It was beautiful...and as trite as it may sound...it was romantic.
As I spent that evening with people who had become my family....next to a new love....and my beautiful child by my side....I felt hopeful. I was so thankful that through my tears I could still see the beauty in a bittersweet setting. I knew that Nick was by his brother's side cracking jokes and being his witty and charming self....all the while I pictured his invisible yet prominent presence nodding his head at me in a way that said, " I am happy for you....truly."

I couldn't for the life of me figure out what triggered the dam to break today....the one that held back my emotions...the emotions I tend to try to deal with one at a time on MY terms. But they flooded forth....and as hard as I fought....I had to succumb to them and just ride the wave.

One of my closest friends had a death in her family. But it wasn't a relatively easy death....not that any are...but this death was untimely and no matter how much I search my soul....for the life of me I can not make sense out of the death of an infant. A tiny...delicate child. One who had not even mastered the art of smiling let alone speaking. And I must agree with my friend when she said, " why would God even allow her to be born if her life was going to be so short?" I wont even pretend to know the answer to that.
This friend...brought to me through my own tragedy....called me in tears. If you knew me...if you knew her....well...I am the one who cries....I am the one who's dominant emotion is sadness. I am not saying that all I am capable of feeling is sadness....I am just saying that though I feel all emotions...sadness...well....it's a beast. Each emotion I feel is almost certain to bring about a spill of tears. My friend...she is the strong one. Today when I heard the tears through the phone....I did not just empathize with her...I TRULY felt her pain. I had never known her to crumble....and seeing her do so....made me crumble almost instantly. I didn't want her to be like me....I didn't want her to know pain so vividly. But the truth is....she already knew it. I had always been so blinded by my own pain...that selfishly I could not always see hers. And I vowed silently to change that.

Every time that death rears its ugly head in my life...even in a very indirect way...I am taken back to my own personal experiences. I then will begin to feel my losses all over again. The loss of my dad....and the loss of Nick. I will immediately be taken back to how I first felt....because I am instantly empathizing with the person who is actually directly affected by death....and I am horribly aware of what emotions they may be feeling and the path they will then be timidly taking.
Empathy. Its a bitch of a feeling. I am not claiming to be righteous in any way. But I am almost incapable of witnessing others pain and heartache without it affecting my life.
I was down for the day. I was imagining what my dear friend was feeling and crying for her....which then led me to memories of what I felt 2 years ago...and it became a viscous cycle. One memory led to another to another to another. It was a battle I was not equipped to win. I threw up my white flag and surrendered to a day I lost to emotion. I rode the waves high and low....and when all was said and done....I was brought back to my original self. I survived.

It's weird....the union of two souls one week....the death of a child the next....and who knows what tomorrow will bring? But the truth is, we do go on...don't we? I recall a time I didn't think it would ever get better....and it's not that it does TRULY get better....it's just that you come to realize that so many people need you....and you go on for them. And you still have stories to tell....laughter to hear....tears to dry and waves to ride.....no matter how high or how low they may take you.....

From boy to woman

Where did he go?!?!? The boy I use to be? No this is not a pre-op, hormone treatment situation. This is me losing site of me! A part of me that I clung to as a child and through those horrid awkward teenage years that are oh so dreadful...you know the ones. Arms that seem to lash out uncontrollably like that of a baby, hair that always seems to stick up, out, here, there and everywhere. Legs that take strides too small for a big world and knees that seem to be plastered with a sign that says, "bruise here". I was the girl that was every boy's best friend. I could out spit you, out run you and when rare childhood moments of privacy allowed, out cuss you. I could catch the quickest bugs, find the best hiding spots and belch my ABC's like no other. I could ride my bike..."look! no hands!", down the steepest hills with not a hint of fear upon my face. I could dig the best holes, build the most spectacular forts and shoot anything my bb gun came in contact with. I could do anything you could do only better. I never complained about the dirt under my barely there finger nails or the shooting pain down my legs from running to every destination in a four block radius. I was the King.
So where did he go? The boy in me who never cried and never backed down from a good game of knuckles? I guess he is stored away upon a shelf like the books you've read and only glance at occasionally with the passing thought,"it(he) was a good book, I loved that book." and walk away. Just a very clear memory that is remembered with a fondness not fond enough to attempt again, possibly in fear of it never being as good as it once was. Is it worth chancing?
Now I am a grown women who worries how my breasts fill out my sweater and if the glossy shade of my lip gloss is in season.Funny how things change. Where I once took pride in my dirt ridden fingernails, I now cringe at the sight of anything, even a smudge, tainting my ruby red nails. And bugs? Don't get me started. I would rather run d
o
w
n
h
i
l
l
naked then glimpse the hairy little legs of any peculiar insect stricken with the ulterior motive of sending me into a somewhat entertaining panic.
This little boy is lost. He is gone. I only just noticed this today as I was hammering nails and painting walls. It was a grievous job and it was not done by that little boy! It was done by me...who loves all things that glitter, sparkle and shine.

So if we could all take a moment to say a disquieting good-bye to our lost little boys........trade in our G.I. Joes for our Mary Jane pumps and tune in to Gossip Girl.....some things were just not meant to be.

Will you forgive me

When I say I don't know you?

As all that you've taught me,

I can now never show you?

Will you forgive me,

When I question your choice?

The one you made,

As you'd screamed,

with a silent voice?

Will you forgive me

as I cry in my bed

Covering my ears,

to hush the chatter in my head?

Will you forgive me when I curse at your name,

Judging you weak

As to me you've brought shame.

Will you forgive me when your pictures are torn,

as at times though I miss you, I sadly feel scorned?

Will you forgive me

When I wish you'd come back,

To explain what I missed,

And as a daughter,

I lacked?

Will you forgive me

as I dub you the culprit,

Struggling to continue,

When you had just quit?

Will you forgive me,


or can you not say?

As you left us to wonder,

While you went away?

Will you forgive me,

if I dread my wedding?

While you are worldy

your pain you are shedding?

Will you forgive

If I cant forgive you?

For all that you've done,

And all that you will never do?

Will you forgive me,

As I bravely embrace the pain,

Look to the sky,

And welcome the rain?

Allison




You know who you are, or who you were. If one day you could find the know how, the why and the justification for leaving without saying goodbye.....that's all I would need.

Familiar Strangers Amongst us

Well here I am in my fourth month at my new house and I have yet to familiarize myself with my busy neighbors. On my left is an older couple who adorn and clutter their yard with the strangest, rarest and most poisonous plants and call it 'landscaping'. The head of the house is a frail looking man who is stricken with cancer. He walks tall and has a pleasant and confident voice that gives no indications of the betrayal his body has coldly put upon him. He seems content cozying up in his modest house as frequenting outside is not a continual habit of his. Though some days, early in the morning I am awoken by the horn of a car and I know that he is being carpooled to radiation for his cancer.
The lady of the house is a petite women with a smoker's laugh and a too husky for her size voice. She is commonly uncommon and easy to miss. I shamefully avoid eye contact at all costs as what could I possibly have in common with this woman? Very few occasions am I able to get my super human senses and abilities up to par and dismiss her completely...as my face flashes a smile and deceives my desire for aloofness. At those times I find myself in a meet and greet upon the invisible line that divides our yards. I nod when appropriate, laugh when appropriate and do a pretty convincing job of acting engaged in our 'conversation'. Attempting not to judge this woman of such small statue in her over sized flannel shirts, I all the while am taking barely noticeable steps back to the eventual safety and normalcy of my own house.
When I have accomplished leaving the chatty woman without appearing rude or disinterested, I am overcome with a shamefulness. Why I wonder, as I sit and log in to my online networking site, am I so quick to dismiss this woman, her husband and their awful cluttered yard ? Hmmm...I give it little thought as I respond to the pile up of messages awaiting me from my 'friends' Over 20 messages I have?!?!? It will take eons to answer them all....had I have come in sooner I would have had more time to properly respond and approve my 'friend' requests. So many friends so little time. These friends only have on average, 2 smiles each, 3 facial expressions of any variance as that is all the pictures on their profiles allow me to see. Out of 137 friends (and growing!)I estimate approximately 4 of them to be people I have physically met and conversed with outside of these cyber walls. I type, type type away getting to know people who I will most likely never meet and will surely never really know. Why this is so crucial to my very existence I am not certain. Yet it is. I live and breath for the life I am open to living with no barriers other than a low battery. How could I trade that for real life? When I am sick no one can see that...only a picture plastered for all to see, if any one were to care to look. No one can see that I am rolling my eyes as they done on about the latest and the oldest.
Yes, I admit, there is no real rhyme or reason to my(our) cyber life's and addictions but could that be the true appeal of it all? Don't we find glamour in what we can not touch, taste or even get a small whiff of? If I understood it, what would then peak my interets? Is it not easier to say and describe who you want to be than to actually be who you really are? When,if and before I come to terms with this I still know that if my neighbors who I can not take the time to know or care for can find the time to know and care for me, I have to learn to unplg and go live.