This has been a difficult week for me. It began with my six-week post-birth checkup. I will be honest and say I almost rescheduled it about a dozen times. I almost dialed the number and pushed it back because I didn't know if I was ready for that or not. Well, actually, I just thought I wasn't ready and so I needed some more time. But really, would I ever be ready?
So, I braved it. My appointment was at 10:15am. My nerves were shot, which elevated my BP a little bit. I had lost some more weight since I last checked, so that was nice. It is probably attributed to the fact that my diet is wishy-washy, which I am also still working on. I peed in the cup, and went back to the room and sat on the uncomfy bed waiting for the physician to come see me.
Let me just say: my physician is amazing. Her name is Tammy, and she was amazing throughout my entire pregnancy. She was always direct, and straight-forward. She spoke to me like a peer, and was very honest regarding everything with my health and Caris' health during my pregnancy. I had thought about how my conversation would go with her at my appointment. In all honestly, I agonized about it. I couldn't decide if I wanted to say as little as possible to be able to hold it together, or if I wanted to dish it all to share the brief life of Caris with the woman who helped me along the way to her birth.
I chose the latter. Tammy walked in and said she was so sorry about what happened, but she didn't know too much. I spent the next hour and a half talking about my baby girl. I told her everything- from the moment I felt contractions to the moment she took her last breath. I talked about how beautiful she was and how loved she was. I LOVED telling Tammy all about her. I wish she could have met her.
I didn't cry, at all. I know that's because God and my little girl gave me the courage to talk about her. I don't want to become a puddle on the floor every time I talk or think about her. I want to be able to share her life openly, anytime. I really believe God is doing a work in me to allow that to happen. I feel peaceful when I think about her. I don't feel bitter anymore... It may come in waves, but I am not in the constant state anymore, which is nice. I am sure my husband appreciates that as well.
Chris and I were talking yesterday about her and I got upset because it hit me that I never saw her butt. I don't know where the thought came from, I just said aloud to him last night "You know, I'm upset. I never even got to see her butt! Or her back!" The only reason I got to see the back of her head was because she was always on one side or the other. Chris did get to see her whole body. He opted to watch them bathe her after she'd passed at UVA. I declined, and sat in the room with my mom, both of us staring at the wall. Not really sure what to say- knowing that our lives were, again, forever changed.
I am still struggling with why she was sick... the autopsy results should come in by May 2nd. I know I've said that before but they are so highly anticipated I think about it at least once a day.
I can look at our pictures of her, and the stuff in her crib, and her clothes and her nursery without crying. When I close my eyes I can see her eyes, the one time she ever looked at me, the one time she ever opened her eyes (that I know of) while she was alive... Of course, as I type this, I am crying...but I haven't been crying that much this week, just reflecting, so I guess it was bound to happen.
I am looking forward to the March of Dimes walk in her honor, team Caris AnnaBelle. We've almost raised $1000 in her honor to go towards helping moms have full-term pregnancies and babies begin healthy lives.
I'm proud of my baby girl... she has touched a lot of people. She has made a lot of people fall deeper in love with their little ones. Her own doctor at UVA updated her status on facebook the night Caris passed and said "