Category Archives: Child Loss

{Happy Birthday} Hello 30!

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One little Ninja and her Mama
October 27th, 1982

You have no idea how excited I am to put my twenties behind me. My twenties were amazing yet terrible at the same time. In truth I wouldn’t trade them for the world, they made me into one hell of a woman.

In ten short years I traveled the world, graduated college, bought a Prius and a house, got married, became a mom to Nylan, had a pulmonary embolism induced stroke, became a mama to a baby in heaven, got divorced, adopted a muppet like dog, hit rock bottom, and found myself. The only thing in the above equation I plan on repeating in the next ten years is travel, marriage, house, prius, dogs, and kids. Thats it no ifs ands or buts about it. Then again I of all people should know that we really don’t have control over our lives. The only thing I can control is how well I live my life. An I am determined to live one hell of a life.

Not having a plan used to scare the crap out of me. Now its a thrill. When I walked out on my ex husband I didn’t have a clue on what my life was going to be like. I just knew that it had to be better and that someone out there would love me. I dabbled in dating only to come up empty-handed. Turns out Mr. right was waiting in the wings. Charlie was an amazing man who was brave enough to take on my baggage. He patiently waited for me to drop my bags at the door and walk into his life. Charlie made me feel like anything and everything was possible. Mostly he showed me that love does exist, it’s not just a dream. Love is worth waiting for ladies, it truly is. The biggest lesson of my twenties was “don’t go for Mr. Right now, instead hold out for the one who takes your breath away.” Don’t get me wrong, I will always have a tiny place in my heart for my ex husband, at the end of the day he just wasn’t the one.

My ex showed me what it was like to be last. Scott always put my wants, needs, and well me last. I was never a priority in his life and what I needed didn’t matter to him. My dreams were shoved to the bottom of the pile, heck I gave up law school for him. Yet, I am glad I met Scott. Because without Scott I would never have met Nylan. Nylan will always be my first son and one of my greatest joys in life. This equation proves that there is always good in the bad, we just have to pick out the good parts and sweep the bad a side. You can guarantee that Nylan and I will continue our bond into my thirties. Any man I date will have to realize that I have a date with Nylan one Saturday a month and that date will never be cancelled on.

Dates are funny little things. Some dates stick in our minds and others leave us forever changed. I am not talking about dating rather the dates on our calendars. April 3 2005 Scott and I had our first date, November 13 2006, Scott asked me to marry him, and on May 31 2008, Scott and I said I do. October 22, 2009 is a day I will never forget. That was the day I had my PE induced stroke. May 12, 2010 was the day I found out that the child I was carrying had died and June 27 2010 was the day I walked out on my marriage. August 13, 2010, was the day I adopted the muppet like dog. On September 24, 2010 I quit my job and on December 23 2010, my divorce was finalized. May 27 2011, was the day I started at the big firm. January 27 2012, I became an aunt, February 6 2012, was the day I started at the little firm and on February 16, 2012 Charlie died. The above dates are forever engraved in my memory. All other dates are irrelevant and are trivial compared to the moments that changed my life. Each and every one of us are a collection of dates. Dates tell us how far we’ve come, how long we’ve loved, and how long someone has been gone. My hope is to only add happy dates to the running list during my thirties. Lord knows I could use some happiness to go along with the bad.

I’ve stuffed a lot of living into ten short years. Even I look back and think “Holy Shit AJ! Do you realize you’ve been to Egypt, lived in a Palace, snorkeled in Alaska, and Zip Corded trough the jungles of Belize?” Then I look at my scrap books and say “Yup, I sure did!” Incredible is the one word I’d use to describe my life. Its been incredibly strange, awesome, and darn right tough at times. Hitting rock bottom gave me the strength to dig out and find my way to the top. Now that I am on top, no one will ever knock me down again. The past ten years have taught me to hold my ground and to fight for my place on the mountain. My heart is strong and I have vowed to never lose myself again. I am going to savor my place on the mountain and enjoy the time I’ve borrowed.

I am going to enjoy the time I have on this earth and will not dwell upon the past. Sure I have questions that will go unanswered. I will never understand why my ex husband stopped loving me or why I had to be the one who suffered a PE induced stroke. Mostly I’ll never understand why God called my son Aloucious and Charlie home. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around what was going through that drunk drivers mind the day that Charlie died. Nor will I ever understand why my ex husband chose to stay in Vegas and push his grieving wife a side. I just know that one day it will all make sense. That in life we cannot have the good without the bad. It has to make sense, otherwise every moment of the past ten years was worthless. My faith tells me that each moment is part of a grander plan. I may not understand that plan, yet I am willing to go where ever fate takes me.

A Toast:

To one more incredible borrowed year on this earth. May year number 30 be filled with love, adventure, hope, and more laughter than one soul can handle. Goodbye 29 and Hello 30!

Step On Up! Pick A Surgeon, Any Surgeon

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Someone once told me “Oh you’re 22? Did you know you are supposed to be married by 23 and have the first of your two children by 25?” I just laughed that comment off at 22 and thought society projects the Betty homemaker image on us from the day we are born. No one ever told me growing up that I would have to fight like hell to hang on to what little fertility I have. No one never told me that at 27 I would lose a baby, under go a D&C that would leave my uterus punctured and scarred. No one ever told me that Asherman’s syndrome exists. Not even the surgeon at Allina told me that Asherman’s syndrome was a risk.

Then again the surgeon who did my D&C was so full of herself that she bragged “I’ve never punctured a woman in my 20 plus years of practicing medicine.” I remember telling her “don’t be so full of yourself, I am probably going to be the one you puncture.” With that sentence I jinxed myself and my fate was written on the wall. A fate I refused to succumb too. Two years ago a careless surgeon sealed my fate and took my fertility away. I’ve learned alot of scary things in the past few months. Things like if I were to carry a child to term my uterus could literally tare away or the baby could punch a whole in the uterine wall. If either of these things happened we would both be in serious trouble. Needless to say any pregnancy would be high risk.

As of right now I am single and have no prospects waiting in the wings. Sometimes I think being in a relationsip might make the decision to have the surgery easier. Then again I was without my partner on the day I had the original procedure. I have taken a lot of time to think about this and I can honestly say I am scared. Scared right out of my shoes. This procedure is a one time shot and there is a 50/50 chance for a successful outcome. I have a 50/50 shot of carrying a child to term one day. If the surgery doesn’t work I am without options. It’s hard for me to put my eggs in one basket when I know the odds. The odds are not in my favor, yet I have a small shred of hope that it will work.

I didn’t have a choice in this matter. It happened. Because of one careless surgeon my uterus is broken. Part of me wants to do everything I can to protect what I have left. Then again I think to myself “one day you just might be in a relationship or married. What if he wants children?” That question rings through my mind. They say its best to do the surgery now and not wait until I am ready to have children. If I waited not only will my dream be at stake, but his dream (who ever he is) would be at stake too. I do not want to be that woman who says “Yea we could have had a baby if ya know I had done the surgery when I was 29. I was single then, so oh well.” I have come to terms with my dream slipping away, however I will fight like hell to save the dream for whoever my future partner is. I just can’t think about today. I need to think about my future and how this will impact the rest of my life.

I have interviewed surgeon after surgeon and finally picked one. There are no do overs, there are no other options. I have to leave it up to fate and let lady luck ride. Hopefully she lands on red and I come out a winner.

{Charlie} A Little Hope

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Lately I have spent a lot of time alone and dared to let my mind wonder why. Tears fall silently into the Muppet’s fur and then there are moments where I burst out in laughter for no reason. Life isn’t suppose to be this way. We are supposed to fall in love, have babies, and grow old together. For the first time in years I let myself feel and believed in something called love. I held out hope that it would turn out all right and trusted the fact that he would never be like my ex husband.

Charlie knew I was broken and that he was taking on more scars than one soul could handle. Yet he would shoot me a smirk and take my hand during the moments of doubt. He called me late at night to tell me “Hey beautiful, just wanted to remind you that you are amazing. Don’t forget that.” Sometimes he would tell my voicemail a story or just talk about his day. Knowing full well that the voice mail symbol would bring a smile to me in the morning. He had faith in me and allowed me to just be. Charlie didn’t try to heal my scars, or swaddle my fears, he just simply let me be. Why others tried to give me answers, he gave me hope. Hope replaced my fears and allowed me to dream again. Dream of a place where love lived.

Late nights were spent with board games and conversation. Charlie never asked me about my failed marriage, my stroke, or my son. He told me once “I don’t need to pry. I have faith that when you’re ready you will tell me everything.” Those moments came and the man was left in awe. Bit by bit I revealed myself to him and under the brightness of the sun my secrets became exposed. I stood there before him with nothing more than my soul, vulnerable, and afraid. He just threw his arms around me and said “Babe all we need is a little hope and we’ll be all right.”

Charlie was full of hope. Hope for our future and that our lives would be more than perfect. It’s funny how one persons inability to move their car from the freeway brought that hope crashing down. Charlie’s death will remain fresh as I shake my head and wonder “Why?” I can live with the fact that it was an accident. However I can’t live with the notion that it was preventable. Had they taken the extra steps no one would have had to die that day. Charlie didn’t die alone, that one accident claimed the lives of five people. Five beautiful people that mattered to someone out there. I hold out a tiny shred of hope that the Judge will make those two idiots pay for their mistake. Rest assured I will be sitting in the courtroom on the day the sentence is handed down.

Hope is what gets me through the hard moments and allows me to dream. Charlie would want me to have a little hope and to believe in a better day. A day where the pain fades and all of this will make sense. I didn’t get to grow old with him, yet I got to spend 16 of the greatest months of my life with him. In the end that’s all that matters. That for 16 incredible months our friendship grew into love, and that love allowed us to have a little hope for a beautiful future.

{Child Loss} With Time the Heart Heals

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It’s funny how time soothes our souls and slowly heals our wounds. I all most didn’t realize what today marked. A day that I would never forget. It was a day that women long for. I remember standing in my bathroom watching the hour-glass spin on the EPT. Part of me had hope and part of me was preparing for a “not pregnant” to pop up. It seemed like hours had passed, I didn’t want to look. To my surprise the test screen said “pregnant.” The test dropped to the floor, shaking I smiled slightly, and thought “finally my calm has come.” I showed the test to Scott, he was over joyed, his eyes filled with tears. Tears because we had just conquered the impossible. In that moment we were happy, the cheating and the lies they didn’t matter. Because now two had truly become one.

Calls were made to the doctor, since I got pregnant just months after my P.E. I was considered high risk. The doctor told us it was a long shot, and that time would tell if the warfarin sodium had done any damage to the baby. We had a 50/50 chance of bringing a baby into this world. To me those were good odds so I started the twice a day Lovenox injections and a crazy low vitamin K diet. I started showing right away, there was no hiding the fact that I was with child. My baby belly to me was a symbol of survival and my way of saying Fuck you nuva ring, I made it. Morning sickness never came, sleep was something I couldn’t get enough of, and cravings were plentiful.

The doctors said our child had a strong heart beat and that he was a fighter. The first time I saw him I fell in love, that was my child on the screen, and there was no greater gift. They talked about the odds of a blood clot forming, they told me the baby could be born Lovenox dependant, and that I could bleed to death during child-birth. Bleeding to death is not how I wanted to go, so a C-section was planned, and it was decided that our son would be born early. Being born early would be best for both baby and mommy.

While I was busy planning and dreaming of what was to come, my body was brewing up a different plan. It was the Tuesday after Mothers Day, I sat in the waiting room and looked around at all of the swollen bellies. My name was called and into the ultra sound room we went. The tech fumbled with the wand, minutes went by, and she just kept clicking on the key board. She sat their in silence adjusting the colors on the screen, soon she got up and walked out. That’s odd I thought, she came back with one of the doctors. He stared at the screen with her looking as the colors changed. He coldly said “there is no heart beat.” At first I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He explained to me that my son had died, that my baby was dead. He told me, “I’m so sorry for your loss. it’s probably for the best.” He asked if I wanted to talk about the options. I said no and stormed out of there.

Stormed off to the Prius as I put the key into the ignition the tears began to fall. I placed my hand on my belly and dared to ask why. I could barely dial the phone, when my Mom answered all I could muster was "Aloucious died." My Mom, she was trying to hold back her tears, she said "I'll call your Dad. I went home to an empty house, Scott was in Vegas, I tried calling him but he didn't answer. I barried myself in bed, I didn't want to face the world. I wasn't ready to lose my child. The door bell rang and standing at the door was my Father.

All I could do was cry as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. He said to me "I don't know why this happened. We just have to have faith." I stood there in his arms crying, my whole world shattered around me. He told me to get dressed and took me out for breakfast. I could barely eat and didn't want to face the world. The rain fell softly as we walked to the car I asked "Dad can we bury Aloucious under a birch tree?" Of course he said, yes we can, why don't we go look for one now. We strolled through the nursery lot for a few hours looking for the perfect tree to place my son under, a tree that would have deep roots and strong branches. We didn't find the perfect tree and now cold from the rain I just wanted to go home.

Home is where I was when Scott finally called. I had asked him to come home, to be with me. He told me "no." I was crushed the man I needed most had failed me and left me standing alone. Alone to make decisions about our son. After talking to a nurse about my options it was evident that I would not go into labor on my own. I needed surgery. Sherri she had left work early and sat by me in the waiting room. As I went back to surgery I gave her my wedding rings to hold on to, she had tears in her eyes as she said "see you in a bit." The nurses told her the procedure would take about 40 minutes. 40 minutes melted into an hour and that hour melted into two. Soon she was told that I was out and in recovery. My ordeal, my son was no longer a part of me. I was now a mother to a baby in heaven.

I was angry, sad, and frustrated. I went through the phase where I thought my son's death was my fault and often thought maybe I wasn't good enough to be a mom. That maybe this was God's way of showing me that he didn't have faith in me. I was angry and scared. No one I knew had gone through this before. Babies just don't up and die. There had to be a reason and we would have to wait two long months for the results.

As I waited the anger started to fade, grief slipped into every day life, and I slowly started to feel a live. One thing was certain something had to change. I needed to re-evaluate my marriage and the man I called my husband. It was hard for me to fathom that Scott didn't care enough about me to get on a plane. Vegas and Ultimate Electronics were more important than his grieving wife. This was my moment to reclaim myself and to fight for what I wanted in this world.

An that I did, in June I walked away. I was done and I had nothing left to give. Two months slowly passed and the answers I had been waiting for were ready. Just like before I walked into the doctor's office alone. The nurse asked if Scott would be coming. I told her no, I left him about two weeks ago. We are getting a divorce. Oh, she said. "Well some marriages can't survive the death of a child hun." I just looked at her and said "my son gave me the strength to walk away from a man who cheated on and lied to me. He had nothing to do with my leaving or our demise." She just looked at me. The doctor came in and told me "AJ, I wish I had more to tell you. Your son was chromosomally perfect and well, we have no idea why he died. His little heart just stopped. It happens hun." That's all I needed to hear. My son was perfect. My beautiful boy was perfect and I was proud of that.

Time heals the heart. At first I didn't want anything to do with babies. Swollen tummies made me retreat and I cried behind closed doors. Friends walked on egg shells as they announced their pregnancies and shot me half smiles. Half smiles turned into hugs. Babies are a beautiful part of this world and I have faith that one day I will get to say hello instead of goodbye to my child. Goodbyes are hard, yet it gave me more strength than I could ever imagine. Maybe I am lucky because now I have a little me in heaven. A son that is always with me. I can feel him in the breeze. Sometimes I let my mind wander and wonder what he would be like today. Would he have my curly hair, his dad's eyes, and I just hope he'd have my intelligence.

Shortly after Aloucious death I got a tattoo on my right foot. Because of the blog we nicknamed him little bear. So it was only fitting that I get a tattoo of four small bear paws. Two paws are red and black those were Scott's favorite colors. The other two are pink and orange which are my favorite colors. The tattoo artist thought it was a lovely tribute and as I told him my story his eyes filled with tears. He told me that he was glad to be in the presence of one hell of a fighter. I smiled and winced a little as the needles pushed into my skin. Now when I look down I am reminded that Aloucious is always with me and that I made it though hell. Hell because in 10 short months I survived a stroke/P.E. child loss, and had the strength to walk away from a man who would never love me. Strength that I gained when I carried my child and walked through his death alone.

May 12th will be the second anniversary of my son's death. Someone told me once: "You never get over the death of a child. You, you just learn how to live with it." That person was right. I will never be ok with Aloucious being gone. However I have learned to live with it. Maybe it's because I am getting older and a tad bit wiser that I can be at peace with his death. Indian people believe in cherishing the life and honoring the spirit that lived within. A birch tree was planted in Aloucious honor and one day Sophia will be old enough to play under its branches. She will feel the warmth of her cousin surround her and his story will seep into her heart. I just hope that this birch tree will be the only one I plant in the memory of a child. My heart can only handle one birch tree. Maybe one day I will get to sit under that birch with Aloucious' brother or sister in my arms.