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I remember what it was like to hate this time of year.  From Halloween to New Years, I was angry and sad and tired.  Facebook is rough for the “fertility-challenged.” 

Now that I have Zoey, I am guilty of posting every single minute of her wonderfulness (if you are Facebook friends with me, you know this is no exaggeration).  Part of this is because I have several friends and famly members who cannot, for the life of them, download a picture or video.  If it’s not done for them, they are confused…there are phone calls that make me want to pull my hair out (“the screen has a funny icon on it…”  sigh….)  Facebook is an easy medium to share pics.

That being said, I’m sorry that this causes pain.  I know what that is like.  I’ve tried to be more sensitive to this and will do better.

I’m still a lostbabymama too…


I was incredibly close to my college roommate.  We didn’t know each other before we elected to room together our Sophomore year of college.  She grew up with a girl I met through my Freshman year roommate, we needed a fourth girl for our apartment and she needed a place to live.  We ended up pledging the same sorority that year and that was it.  After that it was “Martha and Carisa, Carisa and Martha.”  I was not only close with her but her parents as well and my mother and father love her dearly.  We lived together for 5 years until she left for medical school in Nashville and I moved in with my boyfriend for law school.  Still, we stayed in touch.  She visited me in San Diego, I went to Nashville, and she came to North Carolina to be my maid of honor when I got married 5 years ago.  We would still chat on the phone and she was the third person I called when I got pregnant with the boys 3 years ago.

And that’s where it all breaks down and becomes an incredibly sad tale of woe and grief.

Her father died a week before Owen (Baby A).  I feel like I never got to grieve for him and with her because 4 weeks later, Joshua (Baby B) died.  As you all know (really KNOW), you lose a child(ren) you are not in your right mind.  You cease to function.  You cease to be socially responsible or able to observe social pleasantries.

That does not mean that my eyes don’t well up when I think about her father.  My heart hurts at the loss of such a fun, smart, witty man who adored his daughter.  He adored her.  You could see it when they were together how much he loved her.  That’s the kind of relationship fathers and daughters should have.  She and I were lucky to be loved that way.

That might be somewhat excusable.  She was grieving, I was grieving and we would eventually come out of our cocoons and reunite.  But then Carisa got pregnant.  She didn’t tell me until she was 7 months along.  I knew when she left me a message that she had something important to tell me.  I just knew.  That was a mere 18 months after the boys died and after scores of miscarriages. 

I behaved badly.  I tried to fake excitement but I was jealous.  So jealous.  So incredibly jealous of someone who I love so much and want every happiness for but I was just not capable of behaving well.  And what would have been better is if I had said to her, “I’m so happy for you but sad for me.”  I didn’t though.  I faked enthusiasm and then cut all contact.  I’ve only seen one picture of her little girl.  I have not spoken to her since Zoey was born.  Her daughter is almost exactly a year older than Z baby.  A good friend suggested that I write her a letter explaining all of this.  I guess that’s what I will do.

I have a hole in my heart and I miss her.

PS Some of you may know us in real life.  Please be respectful of our relationship as we try and get it back on track.

At my appointment yesterday I tried to sound sane when I asked, what I am sure were, some of the dumbest questions a Maternal Fetal Medicine Fellow has ever heard.  Of course, Dr. B was super nice because he’s incapable of being anything but nice. 

1) I asked about my depression and anxiety meds, do I bring them with me or do they administer them to me.  He said they give them to me – hospital policy. 

2) When’s my next ultrasound/appointment and when do I tell you I want an epidural?  He said from now on, I come every 2 weeks again, like in the beginning and he’s writing down the epidural thing.

3) Finally, I asked if I have to take the birthing/parenting classes that they require?  “No,” he told me, “you were waived out of that requirement.” 

Wait, what?  Really?  I was “waived out of” that requirement?  By who (or is it “whom?”  Nevermind)?

Apparently, at the morning rounds when I first became a MFM patient oh those long 18 weeks ago, they decided I had been traumatized enough and didn’t need to unnecessarily visit the hospital where I delivered my stillborn twins or watch a graphic video of a birth.  Dr. B said the discussion boiled down to this, “we don’t need a medicated, hormonal, red-haired pregnant woman with PTSD going bat-shit crazy in the hospital.  It’s bad for business….”

Made me a little paranoid to be talked about though…

You know, like from “A Christmas Story”?  I don’t think I’ll be receiving any “fra-gee-lay” lamps but to tell you I’m more than thrilled would be an understatement.  Thank you to Parenthood for Me for picking my essay, “The Room,” as this year’s winner for their essay contest.