Normally during this time of year, sefirat haomer, an orthodox Jew would not be listening to music yet I find myself sitting here listening to some of my favourites.  Yes we asked a shaila to our Rav and he said that for this year if I find it relaxing not only that I can but that I should.  My question, and I guess this follows from my post the other day about songs I learned in NCSY, what is it about music that can take such instant control of my emotions.  Even a random song with a decent tempo can almost instantly make me feel better.

I have often if it is just a "me-thing" that music has always played such a huge roll in my life.   As a child I remember sitting on my Zaidy's lap at the shabbat table singing all of benching and alternating between loving and hating having to do it.  I remember years of piano lessons where I hated my teacher but loved how the finished pieces sounded.  I remember making some of my best friends singing in choirs.  Participating in school and shul plays.  Writing my own music.  Putting my own lyrics to old tunes.  Putting new tunes to old lyrics.  I remember looking on in awe as my uncles played their guitars, and seemingly know how to play any song off the top of their heads.  I remember listening in awe as my Zaidy really could play anything in the world on any instrument you handed him after hearing it once.

For as long as I can remember my life has had a sound track.  Like any good musical, certain pieces kept coming back to tell you what was coming.  A tune I listened to all the time when dealing with infertility I only heard again the week I found out I was  pregnant with Gabbi.  I listened to it throughout my pregnancy.  Then it was on the cd that came with the pregnancy loss package from Atime.

Other songs I remember dancing to at camp, then at NCSY, then at our wedding.  I remember learning songs in preschool then watching my Channah come home having learned the same ones.  I remember singing ani maamin at a kumsitz on tisha b'av, then in a gas chamber, than most recently while crying at my piano and trying to convince myself that I really do still believe.

I can still remember my song from when I was a dreidle in my nursey school play.  I also remember the latkas part and even the candles.  I remember every uncle moishe song I learned then, and loved hearing them when I bought the discs for Channah.  I can still sing along every word to the all of the marvelous middos machine tapes.  And Disney- give me any movie cartoon or live action and I can probably sing you any song in it.

Hell I even remember the "Indian Rain Dance" my Zaidy taught me and the "Swahili" song about a boy getting eaten by a chicken that I learned at camp.  Theme songs, camp songs, school songs- in my head I have songs representing everything from star trek to ontario place.

But I have no song in my heart for Gabbi.  I know of now song in my repetoir that calls to mind "dead baby".  Maybe that is part of what I need to find.  A song that will fill the part of my heart meant for my Gabbi with a happy memory.  Maybe a happier song in my heart for her will help be the initial graft that will let my soul start to heal.  I am wracking my brain for one.  Maybe something I heard at a show while I was pregnant, or something on my ipod while I was at having monitoring done.  No matter how hard I try I come up blank- or worse yet with sad songs that went through my head after that fateful morning.

I remember the first time I finally heard Channah cry after being on a ventilator for 3 days and thinking it was the most beautiful sound in the world.  Unlike almost everything else in my life, Gabbi has left no happy song in my head.  No joyous noise to God and no part in a play to remember.  She is the silence that I hear when nothing else is playing.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I used to believe that if you sat in an open field, with no noises anywhere, and you slowed your breathing to keep time with the wind, what you would hear would be the music of the universe.  The music that was made up of all of God's creation harmonizing with each other as each sung their own song of praises to God.

Now I know better.  What I thought was the song of the universe is really the silence of a God who does not want to listen to prayer and who turns his back on those who beg the most.  It is the silence of children never born and accomplishments never reached,  Prisoners never rescued and abuse never stopped.  It is the silence  that the universe uses to cover that which it does not want you to hear.  That which it does not want you to know.  That which it wants you to forget.

Well Damnit I am not going to forget her.  I am not going to let her lie in silence.  I will hear my Gabbi in the sound of the waves.  I will hear her as the tides roll in and as water rushes across the sand.  I will hear her in the roar of Niagara Falls and in the gentle falling of the rain.  She is the noise that will give life to the universe.  The silence will not hide my Gabbi from the universe.  She will be the music of forever.

I was reading an article today that someone sent me and it described the isolation that I feel from other people perfectly in a single sentence.  Other people live on planet Earth while I live on planet I lost my daughter.  They look a lot a like, they even sound a lot a like.  The only difference is that in my world one thing goes through my head all day, every day day.  Gabbi... Gabbi... My Gabbi...

I can't put my full concentration into sweeping the kitchen or doing the dishes or helping with homework.  I can't give anything 100% of my attention ever- because part of me is totally focused on what I lost.  It is like living inside a perfectly clear glass bubble.  I can interact with those around me.  They may not even notice that I can't make it all the way out to them, but I know that I am in a cage and I can never quite reach other people.  Never quite get that human contact that I want so badly.  It is like watching the world happen around me, and being able to interact with it, but not really caring about the outcome.

After yesterday I feel totally and completely hopeless.  You read stories about Chassidic masters whose souls leave their bodies and fly to do things around the world leaving only the faintest strand connecting their souls to their bodies and leaving their students to think they are dead until such time as their souls return from whatever the mission was.  I feel as if my soul has left my body and the tether has snapped.  I am as if dead  with no way of recalling it to it's proper place.

I no longer pray in the traditional sense of the word.  I beg.  I grovel.  I bargain.  But prayer now seems to be beyond me.  Maybe it is because prayer come from the soul and a shattered soul has nothing to offer.  Maybe it is just because I am too bitter and prayer is supposed to be sweet.  I feel as if every night before I go to bed I should be reciting vidui and shema because if I am lucky God will take me in my sleep.

Every day I wake up and remember that I hate myself and I hate my life.  I am furious with my ob for destroying the last of any hope that was holding my shattered soul together.  Angry my husband who does not seem to know where to find soul-glue to help put me back together.  Sad over losing my precious little girl.  I seem to be so full of negative feelings that there is no room to let the healing process actually begin.

As always, please keep praying for a miracle that even I now have trouble believing in.

I am feeling like every step forward that I take is leading me around in a circle to back where I started on that horrible morning where my soul broke.  Steps back wards lead me closer to the same spot.  No matter which way I go I am just circling back  to that day when my heart was ripped from my chest and my soul torn from my body.

Sometimes my soul aches so badly I want to cause myself physical pain so I can overcome the emotional pain for a little while.  I haven't, and won't, but I can't say the thought has not crossed my mind.  There are times I want to shriek and scream as loud as I can so I can not hear my brain yelling at me that I murdered my little girl.  Yell as loud as I can so I can ignore the little voice that says "see, you were right, you should have gone to the hospital that night."  There are times where I wish I was the one in the unmarked grave so I would not need to look in the mirror and see dead, swollen eyes looking back at me terrorizing me with the thought that even my doctor now says had we gone earlier things might have turned out differently.

They say on shabbat you get an extra soul.  Maybe that is why I tend to feel extra terrible on shabbat.  That being the case, maybe it would be better if I were not shomer shabbat.  I know that's not going to happen.  Apart from the fact that I am pretty sure I do still believe in God (even if I do not particularly like him very much) it would also likely mean losing most of my friends and neighbours whom I have come to rely on and think of as family.

The truth is, I do not want an extra soul.   Right now I do not even want my standard one.  There shoulds be a used souls shop where you can go to pick out one you would prefer.  Here, take my soul that is broken from loosing a child and I'll take... oh, this one looks nice.  What happened to it?  Didn't make proper brachot and has to go back as an apple so someone can make a bracha on it in order to fulfill it's tafkid in life?  Sounds like a good trade to me..  What do I owe you for this used soul?"

Anyone want a broken soul?  Going real cheap.  Think of it as a puzzle you need to put back together.   Not sure what sort of glue you need though.

As always, please keep praying my Ob is wrong and that a miracle will happen again.

If you are looking for an upbeat entry this is not going to be it.

Last night was the hardest night since I came home from the hospital.  I found out that 2 people due after me had little girls- and one was using the same nickname as we had been using.  It is a common one, but still.  I was, to pit it mildly, an epic disaster.  I sat on the floor with my knees pulled up against my chest and wailed.  I scratched the skin on my arms so hard I left deep red welts today.  I would not let Jason touch me let along comfort me.  I did not want to be comforted.  My princess was supposed to be first- not dead.  Everyone else is bringing home their sweet little bundles of pink joy and my little princess is rotting somewhere in an unmarked grave.  They have snugly pink blankets, my Gabbi has tiny linen shrouds.  They have mobiles and toys.  I don't even have a headstone.

I cracked.  Why God had to send both in one day I have no idea, but it was just too much for me.  I feel like the
last remaining threads that had been barely holding my soul together have been cut.  I am at odds with myself and with the world.

I would not let Jason touch me.  I just sat on the floor and wailed.  I now understand for the first time the idea of wailing as a form of crying and what the difference between the two is.  The sound coming out of me was more animal than human.

Although it was the middle of the night Jason ended up calling one of my strongest supportive friends who got me calm enough to at least see my through to taking the medication that helps to tranquilize and neutralize these horrible anxiety attacks.  I let her hold me and calm me down and did eventually manage to fall asleep.  In fact, I slept right through the Yom Hashoah sirens this morning.

Which, by the way sucked as well.  I had my follow up appointment with my Ob/Gyn.  She seems to think that the chances of another unexpected pregnancy are pretty darn slim.  I left that appoint feeling about as crappy and crappy can be.  I am writing now with  my soul in pieces, my heart torn out of my chest, and my head reeling in so many different directions that I don't know which way is up.

I feel like all of the steps forward that I have taken have only lead me around in a giant circle to bring me back to where I started.  I feel like I have not really made any gains and I feel like there is no hope for getting pregnant again.  I feel like for some reason God has been toying with me and just keeps coming back and saying "how else can I screw with Rachel today?"

My friend last night pointed out that at least it all happened in one fell swoop so I can start to heal again and hopefully it is all going to start to get better once and for all.

Yeah, like I really expect that to happen.

I am so mad at my Ob/Gyn right now for killing, crushing and mutilating any tiny drop of hope I had left in my soul.

The worst part of it all was she admitted that she pretty much knew it was over before she called the ambulance.  And that if I had gone in the middle of the night things really might have worked out differently.  She told me not to blame myself that it could have happened to anyone, but now that I know that there might be something I could have done I will never, ever, ever, EVER be able to forgive myself.  The guilt and blame that I see in my eyes when I  look in a mirror are never going to go away.

As always, please keep praying for a miracle full term healthy pregnancy with a full term healthy miracle baby even though based on my appointment today I have given up hope.

Due to a post here from late last week I have managed to let go of a grudge I have carried for more than 15 years.  I heard back today that the other person did not even know I was upset (not sure how they missed it, but not going to worry about that).  Clearing the air on a grudge that has become such a part of who I grew up to be as an adult is strange- it is like I don't know what to do with that little part of my head/heart/soul that was always filled with those smoking embers of hate.  I feel like a rubber band that has been pulled tight around my  neck for years has finally been loosened and the feeling of relief is unbelievable.

I am hoping that repairing that little part of my soul will act almost as a skin graft and become a point from which the rest of my soul can begin to heal.  I hope that freeing up the energy that maintaining that grudge took means that it can now be put towards healing the pains in my heart and soul.  I am also hoping that by trying to bring more shalom  and shalva into my life God will see I am ready to receive the gifts that only he has to offer.

To anyone reading  this, if I have hurt you in any way I am sorry, and if you have hurt me I am truly and honestly trying to let it go.  I do not want to waste energy or effort on grudges that go nowhere and do nothing.  My God send you only revealed brachot in the future.

As always, please keep wishing, hoping or praying for a healthy, full term pregnancy followed by a healthy, full term baby.

Many of my friends have written to me to be sure I am okay- or worse yet they are worried I am upset with them in some way- because I have been mostly out of touch since we lost gabbi.  Please understand, one of the reasons that I started writing here so that people would know where I was holding without having to explain myself a hundred times.  Each times gets more muddled and it becomes a game of broken telephone until the rumours going around are just insane.

I am not made ant anyone, and there is no one I do not want to speak to because they have children/are pregnant/are going through some other matzav.  It is just that my life right now is waking up in the morning and figuring out exactly what I need to get through the day with my heart, brain and soul at least as intact as they were when I opened my eyes.  If I can do a little bit of repair work along the way so much the better, but I at least do not want to run into anything that can make it worse.

I have put up a very tight, protective fence around myself and very few people are really allowed inside.  I never know what is going to set me off into an anxiety attack that can take hours or even days to come out of.  I have been known to lose it over conversations about the weather and realizing that my Gabbi will never know the cool breeze of spring on her face.  I have been known to leave a full cart of groceries in the store and leave with tears running down my cheeks as I get to the formula section.

As selfish as it sounds, and it really is, my only goal right now is to try to make it through my days with my heart and soul as intact as possible.

Losing a pregnancy, at any stage, but especially once they look  like like, and could be, a fully thriving and happy baby (lets not forget Gabbi was older, bigger, and in all ways but one healthier than Channah was when she was born) is something that changes you.  I look into a mirror and I see a ghost looking back at me.  My eyes scare me because they look haunted.  I don't get pleasure from anything I used to enjoy.  Lets be clear.  No matter what any medical professional tells me.  No matter how ridiculous any of my friends or family think I am being.  I blame myself for the loss of my daughter.  I look in the mirror and see a woman who killed her own baby.  I am not the same person I was I was before February 28th- and I never will be.

And that is why I find me distancing myself from anyone outside of my current inner circle of support.  It is only those who have seen me now at my worst that I truly trust to help hold me together when I need it.  I trust them not to take offense to anything I scream in anger or sob in grief.  Them who I trust to hold me together on days when I find my soul shattering into millions of tiny pieces.  In my heart I know there are others who can and would be just as supportive, but if you are not here, and not a solid part of helping me contain my physical grief that tends to lash out and destroy me when I least expect it, than I do not have the koach to maintain that relationship right now.

I appreciate the notes and prayers and  thoughtful wishes, and I do try now to respond to each one (at the beginning I was so overwhelmed with hundreds of messages it was just not possible).  I honestly appreciate any second of thought or prayer you can give to my situation- and I hope that you understand that all my energy is currently going into just keeping myself going.

I love and respect and hold dear each and every person who is worried about me; who calls and writes and tries to offer prayers and comfort in their own way.  I am just not strong enough yet to return the favours.

As always, I beg that you keep wishing, hoping and praying for a healthy, full term pregnancy with a healthy, full term baby at the end.

One thing that I did not expect when this nightmare started 2 months ago was that I would find myself changing.  My whole personal style is getting a bit of an overhaul.  I am going less for the frummy/hippy look and more for the classic/up to date look.  The truth is that I did not even realize it until I was getting dressed to go to lunch today and I realized that my outfit would look as in place at tea with the queen as it would at shabbat lunch where we were going.

Tonight when Jason and I went out for a little while I found myself reaching for a more stylish and clunky style of jewelery than I am normally known for.  I wore a backwards golf cap rather than my typical mitpachat.  Truth is, over the last few weeks I have been moving away from mitpachot towards hats more and more.  I am also thinking of getting another piercing in each ear (for a total of 3 in each) and one up top on one side.

Now obviously one issue is that my wardrobe is changing because things that I have not been able to do up since I was in high school now have extra room in them (amazing what the depression diet can do for your hips) but when I stop to think about it, I think that I am trying to distance myself from the person who lost Gabbi.  If I make myself a different person, than maybe it will stop hurting so much.  Sounds ridiculous when I actually see it written out like that, but I think somewhere in the back of my subconscious my marshmallow brain actually believes that it will work.

Once I realized that, I figured I should wait on the extra piercings until I am sure I am not doing it for totally the wrong reasons and so I will not really regret them later.   Logically a new pair of shoes, even  if they are really cool looking, is not going  to take away the pain in my heart.  No matter what I wear or what I pierce or the fact that I am in better shape that I have been in since I had mandatory gym classes in high school, I am still going to be the same Rachel that lost my sweet little Gabbi at 32 weeks unexpectedly.  I am still going to be the same Rachel who has to find a way to get up each morning, get dressed in whatever I can find that fits, and find a way to put one foot in front of the other all day until I can going back to sleep to forget the nightmare that is my daytime life.

I find that the busier I stay the less I think about it and the less it hurts.  Of course, then when I stop being busy it comes back in  full force often worse than it might have been otherwise.  Starting back to work has helped.  As has our Rabbi allowing my to listen to music this sefira to keep my mind busy.  I have put stupid games on my phone so that if I am stuck in a waiting room or on a bus I don't have to give myself time to think.

My therapists all say I am doing very well and I am right where I should be.  The problem is that I don't feel like I am where I should be.  I will be doing fine for a few days then WHAM! something will trigger a crying fit or an anxiety attack and I feel like I am right back where I was 2 months ago.

Friday was ridiculous.  I sort of let time get away from me because I was watching the royal wedding with Channah.  Granted I was being sort of productive by combing her hair for bugs while we watched, but even so by the time I got around to showering and getting ready for shabbat it was much later than I would have liked.

I had a few things going on at once- simple things- things I can normally handle, and I just lost it and fell apart.  It really was nothing major- Channah trying to find tights, looking for a proper length table cloth, trying to find my shoes- normal erev shabbat things.  And all of a sudden I was sitting on my bed shaking and hyperventilating with tears running down my cheeks.  I ceased functioning with no prior warning and was at a total loss as to how to continue.  Jason anded up medicating me and sitting with me while I lay down for 15 minutes until the medication took  effect and being late for shul.  I was then able to pick myself up and finish getting dinner together and the kitchen swept and the table set.  But the point is, it came for no reason, out of nowhere, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.   It scares me that with no notice I can lose all control.

Maybe that is why I am subconsciously trying to get away from who I am to become someone new.

They say if you change your name or your location you change your lot in life.  Maybe a part of me thinks God will like me more if I become someone else.

My god.  There has to be something important that I am supposed to take away from this.  I just wish I could figure out which of these threads of ideas it was.  Maybe if I figure out the lesson God will grant my dreams for a baby in my arms in short order.  I guess I am just wondering, if I become someone else, will God love me more?