Details, thoughts and emotions, even with the best intentions, get easily lost over time. I think thats one reason why I wanted to start writing about Sylvia because thats all we have of her. We won’t have memories of her first words, first steps or her first day of school…but we do have the memories of the hours we spent with her. So I can write and write and write about her, talk about her, cry for her, dream about her, look at the pictures we have of her, touch her little handprints and foot prints the hospital made, wear my dove necklaces and sleep with the blanket she was wrapped in beside our bed, next to the teddy bear my mom got us when we found out we were having a girl (wearing the crown we used for our pregnancy announcement) and the bear the hospital gave us. Instead of posing my daughter this week in some over stylized outfit with some over priced props announcing her four weeks of life like I anticipated doing, I am sitting at my laptop writing about how though it seems like a lifetime ago, it has yet to be a month since she has died.  Continue reading →

Carlos and I are on the wrong side of statistics. We are living every parents worst nightmare. I know how news spreads, how our concerned, horrified and shocked friends, acquaintances and even strangers spoke of us to each other. ‘Did you hear about Carlos and Teresa?!’ We are the couple that people ‘feel’ for but are so incredibly thankful they aren’t us. Many friends told us when they heard the news they hugged their kids a little tighter. Other friends have told us they feel inspired by us. Lots of people praise how we have ‘handled it’ and our strength. About all I can usually respond with is a smile and a ‘thank you’, sometimes fighting tears but often letting them flow. I assure you what it interpreted as strength, I see as survival. Reassurance doesn’t do much when the worst case scenario has already happened. Its bizarre, for lack of a better word, that this is our reality. Over dinner with a close friend two nights ago I described our life after Sylvia’s death like being diagnosed with a terminal illness. Even still, its a terrible analogy. There is nothing that can even compare with the daily impact that a child’s death has, but in my head, it probably comes closest.  Continue reading →

When I was 14 weeks pregnant Carlos and I went to a maternity store out of town during a weekend away. We bought me a couple items for me, giddy with excitement. The clerk asked us if we wanted to be a part of their mailing list. Of course we did! I scribbled our names and addresses down telling them all the details we knew at that time about our pregnancy. Going into that store, telling them our due date and talking about this thing that was happening, it felt like the beginning stages of initiation into the parenting club. I remember feeling like absolute hell from morning sickness, but skipping out of the store with excitement, swinging the bag of our purchases, smiling from ear to ear.  Continue reading →

Thats the term I learned that people use for babies born after a loss. I learned this because only a couple times now have I had the courage to delve into the world of forums and blogs regarding infant and fetal loss. It’s completely overwhelming to me to read of other peoples experiences; each story is just some other version of the most unimaginable event possible. ‘Subsequent children…subsequent pregnancy…’ These are popular topics on support group sites. I have found also that it is something that many are curious to ask Carlos and I about. ‘Will you try again?’ ‘Do you think you’ll have more kids?’ ‘When can you get pregnant again?’ I could see it being interpreted as invasive, offensive, too soon…but it isn’t to us. I interpret it as a way of these people showing how much they wanted us to have a baby too, and they are hopeful we still will want to have more. I interpret it as caring.  Continue reading →

There are certain places, events, ages and periods of time, and more that define a part of who you are as a person. One such example for Carlos is the summer he lived outside Cle Elum in central Washington when he was 7. Though it was a brief period of time, and seemingly uneventful to an outsider, that summer has resonated with him ever since. It was a defining time for him growing up, figuring out the world around him, growing, exploring and learning about himself and his family. His life there was uprooted quickly and he and his family moved away. It has always seemed to me that though his time living there was brief, he left a piece of himself there to keep on growing. We drive past the area he lived whenever we head to the other side of the mountains. He always looks in the direction of his former home as we drive by, nostalgically, lost only momentarily in memories and thoughts I imagine. Once we took the long way home as he wanted to show me the exact location. He found where he thought it was, as details have gotten foggy over the years and wildlife has taken over. It tugged at my heart strings to watch him try and remember details and locations. I could tell it upset him, slightly, to not remember things that he so badly wanted to share with me. That place, that time, that age…it is one of those things that is as defining of him as his name is.  Continue reading →

Yesterday was Carlos and my first wedding anniversary. Since Sylvia’s death, we completely forgot about the approaching date. My mom thoughtfully booked us a room at the Paradise Inn at Mt. Rainier that we were able to escape to and spend 24 hours with no cell phone reception, no wifi, not even TV, in the mountains on completely cloudless days. It was gorgeous. We hiked, talked, shared memories, cried, laughed, ate a wonderful dinner and breakfast and enjoyed feeling invisible in the mountains with each other. We took the Skyline Trail hike counter clockwise at an early hour. It took just under 4 hours and because of the time we took off and the direction we went, we enjoyed well over the first half of the hike nearly completely alone. It was not the anniversary we expected, but it was magical.
On my Instagram I posted a picture recently regarding a shirt I purchased while I was still pregnant. (link here) The entire hike, I kept reliving the conversation I spoke about in that post. We are climbing our mountain Carlos.  Continue reading →

I’m sitting here in our family room staring blankly around the room. Carlos is cleaning out the fridge. Removing all the items and drawers. Carefully and thoughtfully cleaning each space and ledge. He is wiping down bottles, jars and containers of food that really no longer are of much interest to either of us. Throwing away the things that inevitably get pushed to the back, forgotten about and expired. He fixed the door to the fridge as well. Since we bought this house a year ago the door to that appliance doesn’t close all the way unless you push it. Fixing it was on his list of things to do while on his three weeks of paternity leave. Other things on the list include the remodel of one of our bathrooms we have been planning, getting in for several doctors appointments he has been putting off, getting estimates for the new AC unit we inevitably need to purchase and moving a large wood pile in the back yard to a new location. Some how, though all these things seem completely pointless and irrelevant to us now, he is plugging away at them.  Continue reading →

During our pregnancy we had a million conversations of anticipation of future events.
“Carlos! I hope you’re home when it is time to leave for the hospital! Can you imagine how excited you will be if I call you at work? You better drive safely the entire way home!”
“Our bags are packed! I left a list of last minute things not to forget before we leave for the hospital – please make sure whatever you are going to want to wear is free from dog hair!”
“Imagine how exciting it is going to be to get up the elevator at the hospital and check in!”
“I wonder how long I will push for?”
“Teresa, where do you want me to be while you are pushing?”
“What are the first things you are going to say to her?”
“I wonder what she will look like?!”
The list is endless of thoughts, ideas, plans and conversations we had. Often we would lay in bed for hours before falling asleep, Carlos rubbing my belly, and we would just talk about how excited we were. We talked often about how it just seemed unimaginable that in six months…in four months…next month…in two weeks…maybe tomorrow?!…that she would be here. I think most first time parents feel this way. This time clock that your body knows, that you do not, where suddenly your entire life changes. And it always seemed to totally surreal, totally unimaginable that she would be here, our entire lives changed and we would be holding a beautiful little girl that we created.  Continue reading →