Monday, November 30, 2009


Is everyone pregnant? Because it seems that everyone I know is pregnant right now. It also seems that at least half of those were "accidents". WTF!?!

Sunday, November 29, 2009


I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. The last time I was this content with my life was the day before all hell broke loose with Brenna. I remember going to bed on Monday March 3rd, and thinking how lucky we were. I actually remember thinking my life was damn near perfect. The next day I woke up sick, by nightfall I was dying.

It hasn't been the same since.

But, lately, life is good. I am content. I have come to terms with the fact that I probably will never carry another child. I don't love it. But I'm OK with it. I like my job (Just got a promotion even- and a raise!). My son is doing well is school. My stepdaughter and grandson have moved back to our state. Things are just great.

So I am nervous. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. The last time I felt like this it was ripped away from me. I'm afraid to be content again. It scares me. I don't want to lose it again.

An updated on my niece: she had the baby Wednesday night. They had a memorial for her yesterday. She chose to have a small, private memorial so I didn't go. I still haven't spoken to her yet.

Thursday, November 26, 2009


Monday, November 23, 2009


When my son was little I would take him on frequent trips back to my home town. The other day we were driving by a restaurant, and he told me he remembered the sign*:

He said he remembered how when he was little he'd tell me that the guy was a "bad boy" because he was shooting people. We laughed about it, because I remember that too.

Yesterday we were driving with my four year old grandson Mason. We drove past that sign, and Mason saw it a block away. "Look at that guy" he said "he's pointing guns at people. That's not nice." I looked at my son and he had a smile on his face. A moment later Mason said, "That guy is a bad boy, isn't he?" I looked over at my son who looked over at me and we smiled to each other.

It was a really great moment.

*I googled this picture, and I can't believe I actually found it!

Sunday, November 22, 2009


Me: Mom, your dog smells like you (meaning her perfume)
My mom: Well what do I smell like?
My son: You smell good.
My mom: Like what, cookies?
My son: No. You smell like... love.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


Today I am joining with Bloggers Unite to blog about a subject very close to my heart. I'm supposed to blog about a baby that I love.

Today I'm going to tell you not about my baby that came too soon, but about my baby that came late.

I was 19 when I found out I was pregnant. I remember when the nurse exclaimed "You're pregnant!" to me over the phone. I couldn't speak. Dead silence. I remember before I had my blood drawn I kept wishing, even praying, that I wasn't pregnant. It just seemed like the worst thing that could happen.

In all honesty my boyfriend and I had only been dating about seven months. I barely knew him, really. He was a great guy, but I wasn't sure I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I was only 19 after all. I petrified to tell him. When I did he seemed happy, but I knew deep down he was freaking out like I was.

I was especially afraid to tell my mom. She got pregnant for me when she was 18, and I knew that wasn't what she wanted for me. Especially when I hadn't been dating my boyfriend that long, and especially because he was 35 years old and had a 9 year old daughter! Not exactly the dream you envision for you teenage daughter.

My mom was mad, but she quickly got over it. I'm sure she was just trying to make the best of it.

I had a relatively uneventful pregnancy. We never did find out the gender, but I knew it was a boy. I read stories about women who loved every minute of being pregnant. I was not one of those women. Although I was excited to be pregnant, I did not like the aches and pains that pregnancy brought. I especially did not like it when I watched my due date come and go with no sign of labor. Then the next week. Then the next. I was ready for the baby to come, but he had other plans. Apparently my uterus was quite comfy in those days, because I ended up have to be induced when I was 42 weeks pregnant.

I honestly don't remember much about labor. I think I've blocked it all out. I remember looking at my mom and asking her, "Why didn't you tell me it hurt this much!?!" She said, "Would that have stopped you?" Good point, but I didn't find the humor in it at that moment. I was so shocked by the pain of labor (sorry if I'm scaring anyone!) that I forgot about epidurals, drugs, everything. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep through it. Didn't work, but I tried. I'm told I did ask for an epidural when I was about 10 centimeters dilated, but obviously they wouldn't give it to me then. I don't remember that.

All I remember is the doctor tell me I could push. I remember feeling his hairy little head when it was crowning. I remember seeing his body come out of me, and it all felt surreal. A human being was coming out of my vagina. I could not wrap my head around it. Honestly, I still can't believe it.

And then, there he was.

My son. I instantly fell in love with him. It was instant. I was not prepared to love him as much as I did. I knew I'd love him, but I didn't know I'd fall in love with him. It was an immense feeling I'd never felt before.

He was born without a name. We still didn't have one picked out. That night, after everyone had left, we thought about names and picked out Brendan. It was a name we both liked. His middle name was Jack, after his grandfather who had died the summer before.

I loved being a stay at home mom. I look back on those days as the best days of my life. I loved every minute of those days. His father and I got married. (We just celebrated out eleventh wedding anniversary.) It was not all sunshine and rainbows the entire time. There were good times and bad, but it's true what they say: you forget the bad. I don't really remember the times I was sleep deprived, or deathly ill, or angry. I remember the times we laughed, the sweet times, the love we felt.

I fondly remember when Brendan was a baby I would think ahead, to when he would be twelve and not being able to picture it. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a 12 year old.

Well, here we are, 12 years later.

I never pictured my son would have longer hair then me! I didn't know he'd have a love for music, or be a math wiz. I couldn't imagine that he'd have a great sense of humor.

I guess that's the part of motherhood I didn't expect: the unexpected. We have dreams for our children, but they have thier own dreams. The hardest part of being a mom (for me at least) has been having to let go and let him spread his wings. I want to keep him little forever.

But he'll always be my baby.

Today, while I think about him, and my other baby Brenna, I will also think about the other babies who, like Brenna, were born too soon. Please join me in the fight for preemies.

Sunday, November 15, 2009


This year I will be participating in the Bloggers Unite Fight For Preemies on November 17th. I invited you to join also. Click on the link below for more info.

Friday, November 6, 2009


Like it or not life goes on. When I started this blog it was about my struggle to move on after the stillbirth of my daughter. I was heart broken, and kept thinking of what life was going to be like without her. I named my blog Living Without Brenna because that was what I was doing. A year and a half later I am still living without her.

But life goes on.

Now I find that I don't always blog about Brenna. I find myself blogging about what's going on in my life, my thoughts on certain topics, my family, personal stories. I like the fact that I can look back over the past year or so and see what I was doing and when I was doing it. I've written things that I never would have remembered if I hadn't written them here. I can go back and read them and I instantly remember it happening.

This is my online journal.

My online journal. It's not always about baby loss. But it is about my life. My life without Brenna. Everything that happens to me will happen without her. I don't feel confined to write solely about her life/death and my feelings about it just because I started writing when she died. I write about my life. I share it publicly because I hope someone will read this and realize that life does go on. But it is my blog. I write what I want and I won't apologize for it. I've had several (what Aunt Becky would call) "trolls" lately. Anonymous commenters (or emailers) who feel the need to point out my poor spelling and/or personality traits. I've always allowed anonymous comments, and I will continue to. I don't make a habit of deleting comments, and I probably won't.

But the fact of the matter is that this is my blog, and if you don't like what I'm writing about you don't have to read it. While I welcome everyone's opinions, I certainly don't appreciate the notion that just because I had a stillborn child that is all I can blog about.

Because life goes on. I am more than just a deadbabymama.

Thursday, November 5, 2009


When I was 16 I had a serious boyfriend. His name was "Don" and he was a total prick. I apparently had a thing for "bad boys" which turned out to be what I would now call "losers". Don was one of these. He skipped school. Smoked pot. Had no curfew. All the things that scared the shit out of my mother.

Don also expected sex. If he didn't get laid in the first month he'd dump the girl. I made it very clear from day one that he wasn't getting that from me. (And he didn't!) I don't know if he saw that as a challenge or if he really had feelings for me, but he stayed with me for a long time, even though we weren't having sex (or anything even close to sex!).

Around this same time I rekindled a friendship with my oldest friend. We had went to the same preschool together, then the same private school, and ended up at the same high school. We grew up a few blocks apart, and I have many memories of playing with her as a child. We rode the same bus, and many times I'd go to her house after school. Her name was "Candy". We started hanging out more and more, and had fun together.

One day I was riding with my step-dad to pick up my mom from work. I remember it clear as day: We drove past Candy's house and as we pass it I see Candy and Don kissing on her front porch. I calmly asked my step-dad to pull over. He pulled into the next driveway. I got out of the car. As soon as Candy saw me she ran in the house. Don came towards me and tried to laugh it off. I can't remember what I said, but I'm sure it wasn't nice. I basically told him I hated him. I broke up with him, got back in the car and ordered my poor step-dad to drive away.

Don tried to call me and make up. We'd broken up and got back together 100 times like you do when you're in high school. This time I just wouldn't budge. The only reason she had even met him was because of me, and they had probably onlytalked 5 times. I was really hurt that she did that to me. She was someone I knew since I was three years old. I didn't talk to her either.

Until about a month later when she called me in the middle of the night. She cried to me that he had hit her. That he was mean to her. That all her wanted was sex. I listened to her, and was nicer than I should have been. I didn't talk to her all summer after that.

When our junior year began it was obvious that Candy was pregnant. She ended up having a boy before the year ended. I even remember what she named him. I can't remember much about her after that. I don't even know if she graduated with our class. I know Don didn't. I don't even think he started junior year. I didn't see him for the rest of high school.

The summer after I graduated I saw him. I was working in a bar. It was the hottest bar in the area. People would be lined up around the block to get it. I thought I was pretty hot shit. One night I was working and I saw Don. I couldn't believe he was there. When he saw me his face actually lit up and he came over to say hi like we were old friends. I asked him how he got in and he bragged he had a fake ID. He kept trying to talk to me, and I blew him off. I went and told one of the bouncers that he and his friend had fake ID's. Their whole group got thrown out. He kept saying "Why are you doing this?" I finally said, "Because I hate you!" Someone from his group ended up getting into a fight in the bar parking lot. The police got called and two of them got arrested.

It was the sweetest revenge I ever experienced.

Sunday, November 1, 2009


I am so happy to share with you all that Jen's son little Cooper has made it into this world safe and sound.

I remember the first time I read Jen's story back in August of last year. She had suffered a rupture, just like I had. She holds a special place in my heart. We both only have one fallopian tube, the left one, and we jokingly call ourself Team Lefty. :)

Welcome to the world little man, a lot of people have been waiting for you.