Sunday, July 25, 2010
I went to the farmer's market today, and was once again bombarded by baby strollers. At one point, I found myself cornered by two strollers, and a couple of New Moms. (You know how crowded it gets at the vegetable stand). They didn't hear my initial "Excuse me", because as soon as the words left my mouth, one of the New Moms exclaimed, "I'm pregnant again!!" Underneath my sunglasses, I rolled my eyes. The hug and the squeals created an impenetrable barrier. "Ok," I thought, "don't panic." I took a deep breath, and instead of elbowing my way past the huggers (tempting) I just stood there for a minute. There were two babies, one in each stroller. I didn't pay much attention to the year-old girl; but the infant boy caught my eye. I looked him straight in the face, fully aware that I haven't looked a baby that closely since Beau died. He looked back. I studied him. My immediate thought was, "Now, why do YOU get to be here, and Beau doesn't? What makes YOU so special?" He kicked his chubby feet and blew spit bubbles. My heart literally ached, and suddenly I felt dizzy. That was enough. My next "Excuse me" was louder - they heard me that time. I quickly walked away, tears streaming down my face, until I got in the car, where my tears escaped into a sob.
I don't wish this pain on anybody. I don't want to be spiteful, resentful, bitter - that's not the real me. But this grief is a selfish beast - it sinks its teeth in and doesn't let go until it damn well pleases. I hate the whole process. I hate everything about losing Beau. I hate that I have a physical reaction to babies now. I hate everything that is a reminder of what I lost. And although the rage eventually subsides, it's still intense, and it's still unpredictable. But the sadness, the longing, that's always there.
I have a feeling I will never receive an acceptable answer for "Why". Why Beau specifically, why can't I have him, why did he have to die, why did this have to happen to us, why do we have to endure this, why. At first I was comforted by the thought that he might be an angel in heaven, but now I shake my head....he's just not here. And I can kick and scream and cry all I want, but he's still gone. Which means he's not in a stroller, blowing spit bubbles, going with me to the farmer's market. And it's not fair. I don't want an angel; I want my baby.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
First, something that one of the nurses (Kate) sent to me, a few weeks after Beau died. Nurse Kate helped me deliver Beau, took pictures of him, measured/weighed him, etc. She was so compassionate, and really helped us through our darkest hours. I sent her a thank-you card after I received the card & poem, but still don't think that was sufficient to express my feelings of gratitude. Thank you, Nurse Kate.
And my husband bought me flowers today. Yup, that's a red sunflower, folks :)
Oh Beau, I WISH YOU WERE HERE.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
She said several times, "This shouldn't have happened."..........I know....but it did.
She equated it to being struck by lightening - we couldn't have predicted it, and nothing could have been done to prevent it, or save him once it happened. But I still wonder - what was I doing at the actual moment it happened? Where was I? Was I awake, asleep?
On the up side, it's relieving to be back with a good doctor, and an actual human being at that. Not that the previous doctor could have done anything to prevent Beau's death, or did anything medically wrong, but it's just emotional reassurance, ya know?
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I guess you'll have to copy & paste into the above, then click on "Listen to the Story".....
(The whole story, and the part I found most interesting, is NOT on the printed story, but only on the 6 minute sound clip. Just bear with the story for the first five minutes, because it gets really good).
Today, after reaching an actual person, I said calmly to the unfortunate woman in the records department, "Yes, hello, my name is Sarah Caston, here's my ID number, and I recently discontinued my Kaiser policy. I've been calling, to try and get my medical records sent from Kaiser to my current doctor's office. I first called on June 25th, and my doctor's office hasn't received them yet?"
Her response: "Hold please".................[four minutes and twenty seven seconds later]..........."Yes, ma'am, I do see that we received your request for your records to be sent. That takes 5 to 10 business days, and then we had the holiday."
My response (not so calmly, and very clearly): "Well, it's been MORE than 5 to 10 business days. I requested they be sent by fax, on June 25th. Since then, I have rescheduled my doctor's appointment THREE TIMES, because my records STILL haven't been sent. The first time I called, I was told they would be sent that day. The second time I called, I was told it would take 5 business days. The third time I called, I was told it would take 10 business days. And now this is the FOURTH time I'm calling, and the excuse is that there was a HOLIDAY. They NEED to be sent TODAY, because my doctor's appointment is TOMORROW, and I don't want to have to reschedule a FOURTH TIME."
Her response: "I understand, ma'am. Are there a lot of records being sent?"
My response: "Yes, there are 'A Lot Of Records'. They are my records from the past year, in which I suffered a stillbirth. And my son's autopsy report - THAT NEEDS TO BE SENT TOO."
Her response: "Oh, ok. Let me check with the clerk. May I put you on hold?"
My response: "No, you may not. Here is my work number, and the best way to reach me today, and also my cell phone number. Call me when they are sent."
I mean, I totally get it that things can take a long time. I work for the State of Colorado, the gub'ment, and therefore I can understand. I have been patient.
But seriously Kaiser, I'm trying to break up with you, but you're just making this harder for the both of us! :-P
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
“A BLOG? Why are you starting a BLOG?” The word itself sounds weird, almost offensive, and seems crazy.
Here are my reasons:
Because it’s easier for me to answer the question “How are you doing?” in a paragraph, with a picture, with venting, with lots of words other than “I’m ok” (because often I’m not)….and because sometimes it’s easier for the asker not to even ask. I do so appreciate the asking, still, and I will continue to be grateful to you, as you walk with me on this horrible journey of grief.
Because when a child dies, no matter how long they were here on earth, it changes everything. The whole world has a different feel, a different color, a new heaviness.
Because I can’t keep everything bottled up. Because sometimes tears aren’t enough. Because I feel things deeper now. Because sometimes I’m so filled with rage, so filled with sadness, and surprising moments of joy, that I want to share that.
And because it’s easier to type than write in a paper journal. I do that too. Pencils have erasers, but the backspace key is so much faster. And pounding on a keyboard, I’ve discovered, is satisfying.
When Beau first died, I ran across lots of blogs from grieving parents. Some call them “web journals” which is all it is, really. Which I found surprising (the number of them), but now I know why…..because IT HELPS.
However, this is not a free ticket for you not to call me – because now you now know the answer to "How are you"? No excuses for not calling - I still want to hear your voice.