Uncharted Territory

Benjamin Steven Wilson

February 23, 2012

12:42 a.m.

7lb. 6oz.

19 inches long

37 weeks gestation

...

4 long days in the NICU

...

Arrived home on February 26, 2012 at 6:30 p.m.

...

more details to come

...

thank you for your thoughts, prayers, and love in getting us this far

...

A Review: The Rules of Inheritance

I was lucky enough to snag two book reviews for BlogHer this month! You all know I have definitely needed the distractions and the two I chose to read were definitely up my alley. This particular book is a memoir. I just love memoirs. There is something absolutely captivating about reading through someone's life and the journey they experienced to get where they are as the writer of their own life story. When I was fresh into my grief journey after losing Andrew, I read both Elizabeth Edward's memoir, Resilience, and Elizabeth McCracken's memoir about losing her baby and picking up the pieces again to find joy in her life.

Memoirs are rich. They provide so much insight and allow you to carry on the shoulder of the person as they re-evaluate and contemplate their heavy life decisions while inviting you in to celebrate in their victories. Like any good story, there is almost always tragedy and struggle-- and this particular memoir written by Claire Bidwell Smith is no different. Girlfriend experiences tons of grief. She loses her mom and dad to cancer and is left to deal with the grief as a single individual with very little family left to support her. I was immediately drawn to this memoir based on the description about her funneling back and forth in the land of grief while still living. The stages of grief are present and mentioned as her story moves in and out of the five stages.

The story of Claire's life is written in pieces throughout the memoir as she travels back and forth between specific points in her life and back to the land of knee-deep. Grief can sometimes make a person irrational, as I know firsthand. It can make you do things or say things that aren't always with best intentions or thought. She battled through her fair share of relationship struggles and alcohol abuse. She was honest about these accounts, as damaging as they were. I found so much of her story relate-able as I've obviously been rocked to my very core in losing my son. So many of her thoughts have been at one point or another, my thoughts too.

It will be months and months, possibly even years, before this isn't the first thing I think about when I wake up. (In speaking of her mother's death.) Boy can I relate to that.

She disappeared the night my mother died and I was never going to see her again (talking about herself). Losing someone you love can change you. It forms you into a new person.

I've learned quickly, though, that this is a conversation stopper (speaking of death). Unless the person I'm talking to has been through something equally terrible or sad, they don't know what to say.


There's something incredibly lonely about grieving. It's like living in a country where no one speaks the same language as you. When you come across someone who does, you feel as though you could talk for hours. Hello my BLM blogger friends!

...the single most powerful healing mechanism I've found is simple presence. The opportunity for a person to feel seen and heard in the middle of one of the loneliest experiences in their life can have a profound effect. Something I wish more strangers understood. I don't want answers or explanations that justify my son's death.

Claire's memoir was quite powerful and incredibly heartbreaking. In many ways, every love story is. You may shed a few tears, but I do recommend Claire's memoir. In her words: When I talk to grieving people, it's like looking at a negative image-- the deeper the grief, the more evidence of love I see.

It's not that loss goes away. It's just that you learn to live with it. I'm still working on that one, Claire.

I was compensated for this BlogHer Club book review, but all opinions expressed are my own. If you'd like to check out discussions on BlogHer about the book, go here. I'll be discussing there.

Gratitude Project: Days 21-30

Day 21: Where You Sleep

Just keepin' it real here, folks. We do not make our bed. I know... for being such a neatfreak, one would think that would be important to me. Alas, it is not. Especially not when we wake up early and I'm 9+ months pregnant.

Day 22: Clothing

Attempting the creativity on this one. Insert the Ikea dresser from Ray's bachelor days.

 Day 23: In Your Closet

Pretty basic.

 Day 24: Gratitude

Pretty self explanatory here. Ordered from Three Sisters. Totally overpriced and totally worth every penny. My mom also bought me a necklace for my boys ready for Benjamin's birthstone and name... depending on which month he's born in. We're still assuming February, but sometimes nature has its own ideas. I have no problem owning two necklaces as they are different styles/designs. Can't get enough of my boys anyway. And in case you're wondering, "Benjamin" would not fit so I had to go with Ben. And no, I haven't decided if that will be his nickname as I just assume it probably will be.

Day 25: Artwork

This beautiful piece was created by Ray's cousin Helena a few years back. I believe it was right around the time we married. I've kept it since because I just love it. In California, it hung on our refrigerator but now that we don't have anything on our non-magnetic fridge, I just look at it from time to time.

Day 26: Transportation

Trusty Honda. We <3 you. We don't love the grimy, salty mess that Chicago winters coat you with, however.

Day 27: Daily Routine

Breakfast on-the-go is often Eggo waffles.

Day 28: Nighttime

On our street around 6 p.m.

 Day 29: Lights

I didn't really have a clue on what to choose... but figured I could use a little practice shooting in the dark with minimal to no light... aside from candlelight, of course.

 Day 30: Self Portrait

Obviously that mirror could use a wipe-down. :)

Fin.

Putting the Cart Before the Horse

Some fellow BLM friends and I used to write very detailed emails about conception and our future children before we were pregnant again with our current babes. We'd include information about ourselves as parents to these babies before they were even conceived. We'd often joke about putting the cart before the horse in already planning for a life that didn't yet exist.

As we near the birth of our second child and still hold to being wildly hopeful about his life standing the test of time and far beyond our years as parents on this Earth, we're experiencing some cart-before-horse scenarios.

For one, I've been receiving lots of unsolicited child rearing advice from a large number of (hopefully well meaning, but not babyloss) people. I'm sure it's just so enticing to want to share with a super pregnant chick all about what you know related to raising kids, but honestly, stop. I am a perfectly capable, intelligent being who even spent years in the professional setting around none other than children. Real, in-the-flesh children. That's not only what I consider putting the cart before the horse (hello, my kid is still gestating), but it's offensive and rude. It tells me that my experience carrying Andrew and spending all of my pregnancies lovingly pouring over safety manuals of the latest baby gear and child-rearing practices and whatnot was in vain. I refuse to believe that my entire time as a mother (started circa March 2010) was in vain and I'd appreciate no one else express that inadvertently either. Lady in the grocery store, people I work with, and people I consider friends, please just think before you open your "helpful" mouths.

Chances are I've heard of all the baby items you want to address in your advice, as I do have a nursery bursting with baby crap. This has been mentioned many times and I even have pictures of the nursery and baby crap on this very blog. I've also likely spent a hell of a lot longer researching than you, as I've had nothing better to do than obsess over baby crap and the prospect of being a parent and using said crap with my own child for over two years straight. I read books and researched as well. I took classes and spent hours and hours on the Internet just to make myself more informed and familiar with what is out there for safety, user-ability and the like. I'm no idiot and I don't take unsolicited advice lightly. I've never really appreciated it, actually. And when I get baby advice, it's just about the worst kind... because it shows evidence that people aren't really attempting to understand my reality as a babyloss mother. In providing advice, it expresses to me that my child either did not have purpose or did not exist. And he did. And I deserve credit. I am a mom and I deserve credit.

Please let me peacefully complete this pregnancy and raise my child as I see fit. Case in point: unless I am conversing with you and include such things as a question mark (implying my interest to learn more about your experiences), I am not asking for them. I bet you're excited to share and it's a natural thing to do-- but not to a babyloss mother. And honestly, even before we lost Andrew, I didn't appreciate the unsolicited approach to sway my opinion. If I write a post on, say, strollers, I have no problem with comments or conversation related to your favorite strollers, etc. But if I am not discussing such things, I don't want the assumption to be made that I'm ignorant on the subject or want to be discussing such things. After all, my son did still die. These things are still triggers for me-- as I think I've made it clear in discussing how hard it has been to "prepare" for Benjamin in the wake of losing Andrew. It's hard. And not the regular kind of hard, either. And just because I'm carrying around this big, fat, loved baby, it doesn't mean I'm not still totally brokenhearted about losing Andrew.

Thanks for allowing the PSA. A bit longer than I expected... but quite necessary as my emotions are through the ceiling. Pregnancy after loss is probably the hardest decision I've ever made. I'm thankful with everything in me, but still so scared and sensitive.

So Close I Can Almost Taste It

Motherhood, that is.

But we've been here once before and I know better than to allow myself to believe that there is any guarantee in bringing home baby. Like my friend Brooke mentioned in a recent post of hers, we're still wildly hoping Benjamin will be coming home with us.

I've been asked lots of questions lately as we approach baby day (other than questions about my irrelevant due date).

So, are your bags packed?
If you count the ones we had packed for Andrew that are still sitting, untouched upstairs in the nursery, then yes. But otherwise, nope.

Is the nursery ready?
Nope.

Is the laundry done? 
It's been washed since November 2010. It remains clean and again, untouched in drawers and strewn around the nursery. If B does make it home with us alive, I will be re-washing it all. But y'all, baby clothes are small and take very little effort to clean. I have no shame in pulling his laundry out of the dryer and sticking it right on his baby body. But the nursery? The room is a mess. And I cannot, with any fiber in my being, bring myself to touch any of it. Nor do I find any of that important. He won't even be sleeping in there for the first 6+ months of life. We have, in our possession, everything B will need if he comes home with us. It may not be super organized, but I hardly care about any of that.

My husband mentioned to me the other day over dinner that we're getting down to the time where we should really consider "getting things in order" for B-man. But I can't. Here's my mentality: This kid will have everything he needs and will be totally taken care of. I'm being induced (and may very well be having a c-section if this baby who decided to turn breech last week remains that way) and I know my schedule. I highly doubt I'll be going into labor as I'm scheduled to be induced before 38 weeks. Could I? Sure. But I've been in labor before and know that I've got a few hours to "handle" things before heading to the hospital. But again, I highly doubt that'll occur. I'll most likely find the willpower to get my act together and re-pack my hospital bag after my amnio and before I'm admitted. I have way too many hours in between that time anyway and may drive myself nuts without the busywork.

Also, I have a husband who's fully capable of tending to things. And we live 3 miles from the hospital. I'm way less concerned with packing slippers and robes and all that stuff that will make my hospital stay more luxurious. I'm way past caring about all that jazz. My current birth plan is as follows: birth and bring home a live baby. All the rest shall fall into place.

...now... back to book 2 of The Hunger Games.