Damaged.

I wish I had someone that noticed or said something when I'm having a rough day. Not just said something, but rescued me from it. Sometimes I really need to be rescued from myself.

The hardest thing I do every day is be with Rory while wanting to be with Izzie. Not everyday do I acknowledge that, but every day the thought crosses my mind.

When I talk about her, it's hard not to start blaming myself. And say things like "well I should have known something was wrong..." Truth is, I did feel like something wasn't right at my last appointment. Her heart rate was lower than normal, but I was so ready to just be done and have her home I didn't ask anything and think to much more on it. Obviously until I'm being told - "there's not heartbeat". At that moment I felt like the biggest failure as a mom. And now I question my choices for Rory. I worry about her being taken from like Izzie was. I was robbed.

In labor with Rory I felt good. Don't get me wrong, it was a beast, and not a pleasant experience. But I felt good. I felt like I was doing something awesome. I remember thinking how terrified I was of actually having her home with us and knowing what to do with her. But when I delivered her and was given my perfect gray eyed girl, I knew everything was as it should be. What made it all perfect was when Jake talked to her and she looked around for his voice, at that moment she became a daddy's girl, and Jake became a Dad.

(WARNING: I get graphic and use a lot of explicit verbage that may offend people.)


In labor with Izzie I felt disgusting. All I could think was "I have a dead baby inside my body." She no longer was my daughter, she was this dead thing inside of me and I wanted it out. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, like I was trying to separate her from all of it. Before my contractions got rough, Jake and I watch "the bucket list" and laughed, LOUDLY. We didn't hold back. We wanted to be normal. Not this couple that everyone looked at with those pity eyes. I hate that look. Our baby died, it happened, but don't give us this face like you have any idea of what it feels like to be told you aren't bringing home your baby that you literally were expecting in just a few days. High five to you.

I was stoic and rationale from the moment I found out I lost her up until I was getting ready to push. I was in my room, alone. (Jake needed some fresh air and since I couldn't move, figured he should). I felt every. single. contraction. I felt her finally start moving down since she was "floating" before. I cried alone. Thinking how the hell am I going to deliver my dead kid? How is this even real? After about 10 minutes of sobbing and feeling completely helpless, hopeless and just sick, I thought of Jake and Rory. And then I puked in my bed pan. That sucked. Contractions and vomiting = no fun.

So I pulled myself together. I looked outside. It was sunny-ish with a light breeze. Looked nice out. Started another contraction and the urge to push. Called my nurse and she said I could start practice pushes. I told her to get Jake and drugs, I don't know how many times I asked her, but I know it was clear I did not want to feel this all happen. I was in stirrups by the time the anesthesiologist got there to "approve" of more drugs. Asshole.

My OB came into the room looking distraught and just sad. I wanted to hug him and tell him how I don't blame him. Eventually I did tell him.

I started shaking more and Jake got back..I told him I couldn't do it. I told him I was done. I told him this couldn't be real. I don't remember what he said, but it worked. And then he went and sat behind the bed and held my head and hand. I wonder what he was thinking..If he cried?

She was cold. Every push I gave, I felt her and she was cold. When I looked at her, she was so mottled and blue with red red lips. It was horrible. I knew then that she had been gone for awhile. I knew that Monday was the last day she was with me. So I had a dead baby in me for 2 days. That's comforting.

Other loss mom's held their baby, talked to them, kissed them. I held her for like 2 minutes and then held her hand right before we closed her casket and said good bye for the last time.

I feel damaged and destroyed.

A part of me died with her. Some days it feels like I am still dying. Like I am not going to get passed her loss.

I am confused. lost. I want to escape the heaviness.

 One of the hardest parts?

I feel like everyone around me is going to forget her. So I talk about her or say her name. All. The. Time. Its tiring, but I want her to be talked about and thought about.

She is gone, but she's my baby, my daughter.