Baby Names

Naming a baby is tricky because you have to think about derivations.  Sometimes a nickname is worse than the original, so before I got pregnant I thought about how to control that.  It was impossible to come up with a boy's name I liked, but I knew what I wanted to name my daughter if I had one.

My husband's mom comes from a town in the Mexican state Nayarit and I always liked the way it sounded.  I thought Naya for short would be perfect and my husband liked the idea because he lost touch with his mom when he was younger.  He took naming our baby after her as an homage and it made him feel good.  So we agreed if we had a girl, we would call her Nayarit.  

But once we received a poor prenatal diagnosis and the amnio showed that she was a she, I didn't know what to do.  My therapist said naming her would help with the grieving process if we decided to terminate the pregnancy, but my husband couldn't bare to name her after his mom because it was too sad for him.  I never asked why, but I wondered if Nahuatl's diagnosis represented the dysfunction between him and his mom.  And even though I didn't know for sure, I had to respect my husband's feelings.  A father grieves differently than a mother and I wanted to help him as much as I could.  But I wouldn't give my daughter any name just for the sake of moving on.  I wanted to put care into it.  So I went through traditional Aztec names and found the language Náhuatl is sometimes used. Though Náhuatl literally means "someone who makes an agreeable sound (someone who speaks my language)," some sites indicate Nahuatl depicts the migration of Mexican Indians by meaning four waters. And since I'm a sucker for meaning, we named our baby Nahuatl.  

Now that she is gone, I am compelled to do things for her.  I make sure she always has flowers (we decided her color is purple).  I kiss her everyday.  I look at my ultrasounds and touch her handprints/footprints frequently.  I rub the foot that was missing a toe.  I find ways to share her with people.  And I buy her a variety of memorial pendants.    

But a vendor has to replace one of the pendants from the necklace I received today because Nahuatl's name was misspelled.  And it's funny because I was upset at first.  I was initially horrified looking at it and couldn't understand why everything always goes wrong despite how hard I try to make life work. Nahuatl's chromosomes didn't separate right after doing everything I could to ensure a healthy pregnancy and now someone misspelled her name after leaving specific instructions at the check out. I spent all that time thinking about nicknames and choosing a new name we cared about, but at the end of the day Nahuatl was processed as Nahuati.

I sat with it for a while and I had to laugh.  A typographical error for a meiotic defect.  No matter how much I try to control events, I can't.  Some days this upsets me.  While mothers push baby strollers, I'm the one standing in line purchasing purple flowers.  But sometimes I can breath through it and find hope in acceptance.

The First Step is Always the Hardest

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. - William S. Burroughs

I think the body heals faster than the mind.  I had clearance to resume normal activity 2 weeks after the procedure, but I had incredible reservations.  I was worried about my health and I wasn't sure what level of activity would be pushing it.  My endometrial lining was still healing and my nutrition had been compromised by how hard the pregnancy was.  So even with my doctor's evaluation, I was concerned about what resources I could spare on exercising. But I've coaxed myself into at least one routine each day and I think it has been beneficial on all levels.  There is one activity I've been having a difficult time with though.


My doctor didn't identify all the things I could jump back into, but sex was included from the few she named and it has not been easy.  Sex is a trigger.  It represents Nahuatl and what surgeons did to her. Allowing anyone to be where she last was feels debasing.  Sex makes me hypersensitive and aware of how different I am now that this happened.  And it makes me feel as if I am doing something wrong by trying to return to normalcy. It also means attempting to conceive again knowing that another trisomy event could occur and I don't know if I could cope if it did.

I've read on several support forums the right time to try again is when your desire for another baby outweighs your fear.  Taking my age into consideration and how much my body aches for the baby I lost, I don't know if I want to wait for that to happen.  It's cruel to think I can replace one life with another, but having a second will not only give me the baby I have wanted for years, it will also help me get through losing my daughter.  But I'm still scared.  That one percent feeds my apprehension. Though my perspective on livelihood with regards to trisomy conditions and my views on what I believe is the best choice for my child have not changed, I don't know if I could make the same decision again. And that concerns me because I don't think it's fair to a baby.  So my mind is twisted over what I want to do and what I think I should do.  Luckily my period hasn't returned yet.  Nature has provided time for silence.          

A 360 Degree Turn

The last couple days I have been keeping myself busy by going to work with my husband.  He works for a delivery company so we're on the road for most the day jumping from location to location delivering books. Normally I don't like leaving the house, but it's good going with my husband because I've been in a strange mood the last few days.  I've been abnormally calm (almost sedated). I'm not upset, but I'm not happy either.  There is this empty feeling that becomes somewhat oppressive by the middle of the day and my mind begins obsessing over what happened and wanting another baby.  It's overwhelming when I'm alone and so I think I have to keep myself busy so I don't turn catatonic.  It's not that my thoughts disappear when I'm involved with something, but I'm able to control how much they affect me when I am. And right now I'm trying to manage my mood naturally.  My therapist wants me on anti-depressants because she thinks my history suggests a biological predisposition to depression, but I would rather try alternative routes as I believe my state to be situational.  Who wouldn't crawl into his/her mind after the death of a much desired baby?

It has been difficult staying active though.  As much as I need to get involved, I have to push myself to do anything because everything feels like bullshit. Socializing, reading, hiking, working out, knitting, tackling and reinventing gourmet recipes, all the things I used to do feels like manure.  But I've been managing a few activities on the days I am not with my husband.  I have been running/walking or riding the stationary bike while watching old favorite movies.  I can't push myself to knit anything because my last project was a blanket for Nahuatl, but I have been searching for sewing patterns.  I'm curious about making my own clothes and I think easy designs will help reclaim an interest in being creative.  When I was younger I wanted to be a fashion designer, but I didn't get into one of my choice schools and I opted for plan B.  So it would be nice to revisit who I was when I was 17 especially having gravitated so far from that person.

Sometimes I wonder if Nahuatl's condition and the choice I made for her had to happen because I was going in the wrong direction as an individual.  It sounds heliocentric, but I mean that with regards to how I was mistreating people.  Making my goals a top priority at any cost sacrificed many relationships and so I can't help but think that cosmos or whatever is out there is redirecting me for a future benefit.  Perhaps this was needed to make me evaluate and grade parts of my life I've ben neglecting.  Not to trash my goals, but to make decisions about who and what is more important so that I change the way I work toward them. Was this to balance me out so that I can be a better mom, wife, daughter, friend, and doctor?

Or maybe it's all random and this is just me rationalizing to cope with something bad that happened. But trying to make sense of it and rediscovering certain interests does provide a sense of renewal. Like a second chance to be better or make things right.

Why?

I only had a 1/282 chance that my baby would have trisomy 21 when I went in for my nuchal translucency test at 13 weeks.  The chances increase as maternal age climbs, but that's where I was at 35.  Yet when you put the numbers into perspective the statistics are really in a woman's favor at any age because even an event with a 1/100 chance (at age 40), there is still a 99 percent probability a baby will be born healthy.  Those are great odds.  But after Nahuatl's diagnosis, the chance may as well have been 1/∞ because higher or lower chances don't change being that one no matter what the denominator is.  

And if that's the case, what was so special about me?  Why was I that one person out of all those healthy births?  Medical professionals and genetic counselors tell me it was a fluke, but random isn't a good enough answer.  So I scream why without saying anything else.  Or I regress in time looking for something bad I did to deserve what happened to her.  I wonder what I didn't do enough of or if I was too much.  Sometimes I wonder if I was being tested by someone or something.  If it was my life course to make me a better person or an appreciative one. And without answers, I get venomous.  I glare at mothers who smoke while pushing their children in strollers.  I get upset at women who have multiple unplanned pregnancies with different fathers and mothers who walk out on their kids.  It's not that I judge anyone for their choices.  It's that I don't understand why their choices led to a healthy baby and mine didn't.

I think that's why I stopped participating in things I believe in.  I used to care about sustainability and supporting local commerce.  I ate organic and strove for a healthy lifestyle.  I donated to social causes and I kept myself informed.  I wasn't perfect, but I wanted to leave the smallest imprint on our environment and I wanted to be socially responsible.  So I tried.  But now it's exhausting and I find it unimportant.  I can't bring myself to consider the world around me when I see careless people happy. I don't have enough energy to push myself because my stores were depleted when doing what was best for my daughter.  

     

    

Something to Hold Onto

I told my therapist the feeling of losing a baby won't go away.  It's always with me no matter what I'm doing. When I'm brushing my teeth, when I'm cleaning my house, when I'm on the bus, I'm always thinking about her. I wonder if she had a head full of hair like me.  If she looked more like my husband or had my grandfather's eyes.  I imagine myself kissing her little belly and I can see her wearing diapers with her long legs from my ultrasounds coming out of them.  And when I catch sight of my husband's hands, I think about how she had the same ones.  

But for some reason there are certain tasks I can get lost in.  I search for memorial pendants and patron saint medallions (though I am not religious).  I scour Etsy and Ebay looking for the right ones.  Meaningful necklaces with the perfect pendant or collection of pendants tied to babies and infants who were lost in pregnancy or after, as well as patron saints of children. If I focus my attention on searching for and buying these items, I feel better about life.  Even with a limited income I can't stop.  It gives me peace.      

And I can't help but think of the trailer to The Rabbit Hole when I do these things, a film about a couple who lost their child. In one of the scenes the mother asked if it (the pain) ever went away.  The person she was speaking with said no, but that it eventually becomes bearable.  I think that's what I am waiting for.  And that things like photoshopping Nahuatl's handprints and footprints for family and ordering prints of her ultrasounds so I can hang them up help me in the interim.  So even though I can't explain why buying a necklace makes me feel okay, it's something I can hold onto until life is bearable again.  

Virtual Run for Pregnancy and Infant Loss

I've been searching for pregnancy and infant loss awareness events and for any dedicated to chromosomal abnormalities. But I haven't found many of the first and nothing of the latter.  I am not sure if the political environment in the US makes it taboo to sponsor events for pregnancies that were terminated for medical reasons.  I do know several organizations include pregnancy loss and stillbirths at any gestation and for whatever reason when providing support to parents. So perhaps full inclusivity is why I haven't found anything specific to genetic defects.  But in any case, I did find a pregnancy and infant loss run/walk that offers virtual participation to those who are not in the area. My husband and I will be running.  

If you are interested in participating because you lost your loved one or you would like to help support family or friends, you can sign up by clicking on this link: Let's Not Be Still.   

I Loved You the Moment I Knew You Were There

Last week I would have been 6 months pregnant.  I only had 3 more months at that point and I've been filled with anger thinking about it.  I've been breaking things around the house. Smashing CDs with saved photos.  Throwing out yearbooks, photo albums, and scrapbooks.  I've hidden all my schoolbooks and pastime literature in closets so I don't see them.  I don't know why I do some of these things, but I do know I want no memory of my life right now.  I keep telling my husband I want to live in an empty house with bare white walls.  The sight of personal belongings suffocates me.  So I've been cutting up my favorite clothes to get rid of them.  My husband has now hidden the scissors on me.  But it doesn't matter because whatever I throw out doesn't take away the pain.

Sometimes I think I'm being ridiculous.  Or that I'm going to regret how I'm acting later on.  That it could jeopardize my marriage or lead to larger emotional issues.  But a part of me doesn't care.  I'm just not ready to be me.