On a cold night in January I made Chris take me to see a movie in the theater. I was feeling badly- my mood was really low, which was not uncommon. When you’re told that the baby you’re carrying, your first child, a strongly desired baby, will likely die because her kidneys are broken, making low fluid and causing her lungs to be really small, sometimes your mood gets low. In was one of those days and I just couldn’t shake it. Chris asked me what would make me feel better and I told him going to the movies. It was a good idea too even in our hopeful times. Our baby’s death was not a certainty. It was possible she could live and if she did she would be medically complicated needing lots of care. If she survived, a night out at the movies would be impossible, so might as well do it while we could.
“Frozen. I want to see Frozen,” I told him.
“Are you sure?” he asked me. “There are likely going to be lots of kids there.”
I was sure- I wanted a movie that wasn’t real and I’ve always been a fan of kid movies. So after a near miss (the first movie theater we went to had lost power), Chris and I found ourselves walking carefully across an icy parking lot to the theater. He held my arm the elbow as I maneuvered my thirty two week belly around.
“I can’t fall!” I said to Chris almost jokingly. “We’re not monitoring!”
In pregnancy, if you fall, especially in the third trimester, it’s standard to be seen in the hospital for some monitoring of the baby afterwards- to make sure there are no contractions or signs of a placental abruption. We had had to make some difficult decisions regarding monitoring of our baby. With no fluid, there was a great risk for stillbirth. The baby’s heart rate could be monitored for signs of distress, but it’s an inexact science and most stillbirths in these circumstances happen practically in an instant. We had the option of being admitted from the diagnosis at 27 weeks and monitored 24/7 or we could do weekly (or any other chosen interval) monitoring or we could do no monitoring. Choosing monitoring meant we were willing to have an emergent c-section- potentially affecting my future fertility- and allowing our baby to be born prematurely. We made a highly researched and educated decision (met with many specialists) that our baby had the best chance of life if she was born after 34 weeks. We chose no monitoring until then, recognizing if she had distress before then we would lose her. Upon admission we would take no chances and I would be admitted for 24/7 monitoring. So at 32 weeks, if I fell, I would have to decide whether I’d want to break that plan and be monitored, risking early delivery if there was distress. On the flip side, if there was distress, we wouldn’t know about it and my baby could die inside me.
“No falling!” Chris assured me as he gripped my arm tighter. The ground glistened with black ice. We slipped and slided with several close calls but made it safely into the theater. I watched Frozen and was delighted.
When Mabel died, my family came for her services. I found a little joy in the innocence that was my niece. At 3 years old, she was rightly obsessed with Frozen. She would sing, somewhat unintelligibly and very much off key, the words to “Let it go” and dance around the living room. She built her very first snowman (a big deal for a kid who has only grown up in southern California) and named it “Snowloff.” In the weeks that followed, long after my little niece left, I found myself saving “Let it go” to my playlist. I’d sing along to the lyrics in my somewhat unintelligible and very much off key voice:
“Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know!”
A perfect anthem for my grief.
This week I went clothes shopping. A secondary gain since my daughter died (I hate that term- is there a better one? An unintended benefit?) is that I’ve lost some weight. Extra time on my hands and needing an outlet for my anger and grief has brought me down below my pre-pregnancy weight. I know I am fortunate that this happened this time- in the past I’ve been a very emotional eater and gained when I was down. Now I’ve found that I don’t fit into my clothes. So I finally put the hopes of a future pregnancy aside and decided to invest into some clothes that fit. I needed to look somewhat professional in pants that weren’t super baggy. A quick trip to Kohl’s and I found some duds that fit the bill. As I was headed to the check out, a sweater caught my eye. I had wandered past the juniors department and just kept staring at this one sweater. I went up a size, figuring the juniors sizes would be ridiculously small and tried it on in front of the mirror. I was smitten.
Chris rolled his eyes when I showed it to him at home. He said “o-kaa-ay” in that two tone mild sarcasm when I put it on to wear it out to the movies (now with no baby, we have the freedom to do so whenever we want). But I told him in the car how when I wear this sweater I think of Mabel- pregnant with her skating across the theater parking lot, my niece singing it before we went to Mabel’s wake and the lyrics of it’s main song that was the anthem to my grief. He held my hand proudly in the theater afterwards.
Do you have something you wear that makes you think of your baby?