Mar 12, 2012

1000 Oceans

Thank you to Mo for posting the Tori Amos song 1000 Oceans. I have been listening to it on repeat over and over the past couple of days and really connect with it right now.

Maybe because 1000 oceans feels like how far away I am from Aminadav and Naava, the two little souls that we came so close to spending our lives with. Maybe because it feels like 1000 oceans is what separates me from a totally different life in a parallel universe, the universe we were living in until last Sunday.

When I suffered my first (much earlier) loss, I spent a lot of time afterwards reliving over and over again in my head those happy last few days before the ultrasound that showed our baby had no heartbeat. How I felt like such a fool knowing I walked around so smug, so expecting of a baby, that unknown to me, had stopped developing.

These days I spend a lot of time reliving over and over again my last few days with Naava and Aminadav before my water broke and all hell broke loose. Our last few days as a family of four. I don't think so much about those initial awful moments when my water broke (more accurately exploded), the complete terror I felt and my shrieks and screams, over and over again, to Y on the phone, to myself, to the neighbor who called the ambulance. By then our fate had already been sealed. Those are not the moments on repeat.

Instead I think of those last few days on bed rest, how much time Y and I spent together in those last evenings, lying on our bed watching sitcoms once he moved the television set into the bedroom with our cat, Harriet, at the foot of the bed. (Harriet is usually not allowed in our bedroom nor are we typically the watch tv in bed type of couple - these are the types of allowances we made during this time.)

How the four of us would lie happily in the bed together in the evenings, Y and I both stroking my swelling belly out of habit. I was already having complications at that point but we were still happy and so blissfully and innocently in love with each other and with our sweet babes.

The hyperemesis, the bleeding, the bed rest - it all seemed part of a rite of passage during a difficult multiples pregnancy following infertility - challenges and some physical suffering for what would be a great reward. But not this - not this awful, horrible thing that came next. There was no rite of passage and there were no rules. No illusions of stay in your bed and you'll be safe, no bargains to be haggled, and no reward.

I think of our last Shabbat together, which was right before my water broke. I was so desperately bored and listless. I think of the fool again. There she is. There she is on the couch so bored, oblivious that these are her final hours with her babies. Always the fool. Always obliviously unaware to what happens next. It's never a happy ending. We've played out almost every possible variation on reproductive misery over the past few years; the only outcome that seems to have evaded us is the one that is most statistically likely - The Happy Ending.

I replay over and over again our final days with Naava and Aminadav, how as anxious and worried as we might have been, we still fundamentally believed that they would stay with us. I look back on my life in a parallel universe, a slice of time and a trajectory that existed such a very short time ago, but that life is now 1000 oceans away.

20 comments:

  1. This post breaks my heart. I wish I could say or do something to offer you and Y comfort... The two of you and your beautiful children remain in my thoughts and prayers.

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  2. Oh A, my heart is breaking for you. I can understand how you feel, but please remember to be kind to yourself.

    <3

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  3. My heart is broken for you. 1000 Oceans is one of the songs I listen to for my Calypso too. It's gorgeous and so true.

    I'm thinking of you sweetie

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  4. I know you don't really think you're a fool, but I do second the above remark to be kind to yourself. A horrible part about all of this is how terribly random it seems at times, how many people have wonderful uncomplicated pregnancies while we fall on the wrong side of horrible odds again and again. You did everything you possibly could. My best thoughts to you, my dear.

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  5. I'm tearing up. Everything you say sounds just like my own thoughts...especially after I lost our twins. It's a dark place to be in. It's unavoidable, but you too will eventually push through it. I don't think the feelings of guilt or feeling like a fool will completely disappear. That is something that us infertile mothers always seem to hang onto a part of. We feel like somehow we should have known or been able to protect our babies.
    Your words about feeling 1000 oceans away from that life resonates with me. I too feel very far removed from the parallel universe I was walking only a few months ago.
    I am thinking of you constantly and am just so sorry that you are having to deal with this sort of pain. I'll send you all the warmth I can.
    MissConception
    http://missconception-ads.blogspot.com/

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  6. This post breaks my heart. Just wishing I could reach through the computer and wrap you in a hug.

    xoxo

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  7. Thinking of you. ((hugs))

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  8. That song is beautiful... I heard it soon after we lost Gabrielle and it's stuck with me since. My heart breaks for you... and please know that I'm here if you need anything. Love always xoxo

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  9. I'm so very, very sorry for your loss. Sending light and love.

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  10. Hugs. And you weren't a fool. As you said, you wouldn't have been rewarded for acting any differently. The happy ending is out there, it has to be.

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  11. Its not fair and dont feel like a fool. All wet can do is live in the moment and get through it. Had you always thought the worst you would eventually regretted not enjoying your all too short time as their mother. Im so sorry.

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  12. I'm so very sorry for your loss. My heart goes out to you and Y.

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  13. I am very sorry for your loss. My heart is breaking for you and Y.

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  14. I am so heartsick for you. You are not a fool and you never were. You were simply hopeful and positive for your babies, because that's what you knew they needed you to be for them.

    I think of you often, and I am so sorry for your losses.

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  15. I feel so sick for you. You are in my thoughts.

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  16. Sending much love your way.

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  17. I am so sorry for your loss.
    I love your header and oceans surounding your blog - water is such a healing, forgiving source - I am glad the song is helping. Hugs from me. surviveandthrive.co.za

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  18. I am so very sorry about the loss of your twins. I am thinking of you and wishing you peace as you find your way through this.

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  19. Here from CDLC. It's almost nine months later and my heart still breaks for you. I am so sorry... Praying that 2013 brings continued healing and peace.

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