More Guilty Little Thoughts...

I saw the term "true knot" today to describe, well, a true knot in the umbilical cord.  I'm surprised I hadn't heard this specific term before since it is exactly what happened to Lillianna and it's apparently commonly used medical terminology. 

So, I've been googling "true knot" and learning all about them.  Though still highly unlikely to occur, it happens more often with a longer than average cord.  Apparently, the baby's activity level can be somewhat of a determining factor in cord length.  The more the baby swims around the longer the cord gets.  And obviously, the more the baby swims around, the more likely they are to swim a knot into the cord.

I had an anterior placenta which is not problematic other than cushioning the kicks from my baby, making movement much more difficult to detect.  I have always felt fetal movement fairly early, often getting the faintest little flutters around 14 weeks.  When I hadn't felt even the vaguest movement by 16 weeks I began to seriously worry.  By 18 weeks I was in a full blown panic and imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios and ran off to get an ultrasound.

At that point Lilliana was fine.  I have no idea when she put the knot in her cord.  But maybe, just maybe, she knew that I was getting agitated and worried and she just wanted to let me know that she was okay.  Maybe she started swimming around more and more trying to tell me, "it's okay mama, I'm right here, can't you feel me swimming all around?"  And in her efforts to reassure me, perhaps all the while she was lengthening and stretching her cord until it was long enough to swim a knot into it. 

I know she didn't mean to leave me.  She was only trying to make me feel better so I wouldn't worry.  But if I hadn't worried so much, maybe she would have just relaxed and slept peacefully.  And right now I would be holding her and nursing her and watching her chest rise and fall as she slept.


*Yes, I'm aware that this guilt is also irrational.

Resonance

So I went to a fascinating new therapist who had a completely bizarre and different approach to therapy.  I don't really want to get in to detailing her techniques here, but it was intriguing to say the least.  Anyway, she told me to come back to my blog and write another post.  So that's what I'm doing even though I don't know what I want to write about at the moment.

Josh has been amazing and wonderful during his time home.  The other night at bed time, Dominic was having a temper tantrum and Josh sang "Hush Little Baby" to help sooth him and calm him down.  I didn't think anything of it at the time, but later Josh commented that it was difficult for him to sing that song again.  I had forgotten when writing Lillianna's birth story that as he carried her down the hospital hallway to tuck her into the freezer he was singing that song to her.  When he reminded me of that, I told him how glad I was for him that he thought to do all these little things with her like singing to her and swaddling her and what not.  He looked mildly surprised and said that he didn't really have to "think" to do them, those were just things he had done with all of his babies.

As we were talking, I could see how very very sad he was feeling at that moment.  My heart ached for him.  I was glad that he was talking about it and that he was crying and expressing his grief because that is the normal and right and healthy thing to do.  At the same time I wanted more than anything to take his hurt away and make it better.  Then I realized that he must feel the same towards me when I am outwardly showing my heartache and sadness.  And again I am amazed at this wonderful man that I married.  The patience and compassion and love he has freely given to me while his own heart is hurting so much...it is so deeply moving, and yet that can hurt as well.  I want to give back the selfless love and support that he has given to me and yet I feel inadequate to do so.

Moving on...

I just watched my slide show again.  It is put to the music "Time In a Bottle", which is perfect.  It is excruciating to watch.  When I see the images of me holding my sweet baby girl I'm overwhelmed by so many emotions.  I find myself smiling at her sweet little face.  I call to mind what it felt like to hold her in my arms and how her skin felt against my skin.  My arms actually start to hurt from the longing to hold her again.   I want to snuggle her into my chest and touch my lips to her face and caress her skin.  Then as the pictures go on, I see Josh holding her, kissing her, swaddling her and just fathering her and my heart breaks again for what he has lost.

I want my baby back.  I want her so much.  I have never longed for anything so much in my life.

Anxiety

Today I have had anxiety.  Lots of it.  I don't know what anxiety is like for other people.  For some, it involves worrying about any number of things.  I imagine that for others, like me, it's far less tangible.  The vast majority of the time, if someone asks me, "What are you feeling anxious about?", I have absolutely no freaking clue.

So I'm going to try to describe what anxiety "feels" like to me.  I can feel a physical sensation of tension around my heart and in my head.  I feel sobbing and hitching and hysteria somewhere deep inside of me, but it won't come out.  It's not that I'm restraining myself and holding it in.  It's more like it's locked away tightly in a little steel vault hidden deep inside my chest and I don't have the key.  It seems to desperately want to get out.  This metaphorical metal box shudders and shakes and bounces around from the effort of whatever it contains trying to escape.  The vibrations build up the pressure so that it is throbbing in my chest and in my skull. I tap my fingers or jiggle my knee trying to let some of the pressure out.  I even try to jump-start the release of whatever is contained within that vault with some practice sobs, but it doesn't work.  There are so many cushioning layers of numbness between the Vault of Pain and the surface that all I can feel are the shock-waves of whatever it is that wants to get out.

And that is my best description of anxiety.

Let's Talk About Feelings

Today I feel sad.  Really really deep down heavy crushing sadness.  I'd try to describe it more, and the physical sensation of sadness in my heart, but all the description that come to mind seem so cliche.

I watch Lillianna's slide show over and over.  I told Josh that when I watch it I just want to live inside of the pictures so that I can hold her again.  He didn't appear to relate so I asked him about that and he said, "Well, if we are wishing for things we can't have, I just wish that she never died."

That makes more sense.  I, too, wish that more than anything.  But it is less tangible to me.  I can imagine what she would have been like alive, but I have never seen her that way.  I don't know her, at least outside of my body that way.  I'll try an analogy.  Maybe a person who lives on the street and has no money might fantasize about winning the lottery and all of the wonderful things they would do with all of that money.  But it's just a fantasy.  Something they never have known, and likely they never will.  So instead they might think back to a time when they had somewhere to live, even if it was just a run down little shack, and they were in debt, and rarely had enough to eat.  They might long for that time back because it's the best they ever had.

I don't know how clear that analogy is and I'm pretty sure it sucks.  In case it's unclear, Lillianna alive =  fantasies about the lottery, something I will never know first hand; holding Lillianna dead = the run down miserable shack that I used to have and was the best I've ever known of her.

More clear?  Less clear?

The fondest memories I have of my baby are in those pictures.  I wish I could go back in time and hold her forever.

*No disrespect is meant to homeless people, and I'm very grateful that I have a home and food and whatnot.