Aryn's due date is 2 weeks away...

Its unreal to think how big I should be right now. How I should have already felt the first kicks, decorated the nursery, and had a baby shower. But the anticipation to this due date will not be accompanied by any of those. No no, it will rather be a day where I can't stand to hear a baby cry. I secretly hate every pregnant woman I see. Adam and I plan to try again in a year...it seems so far away. My mother should be here right now, telling me that it was for the best. But no, she is a few miles from my house next to a married couple who passed away 10 years apart. She's down the row from Steve Kraft, who was killed right by my house on his way to work. Why does everyone else's family get through the hard times with those people surviving in the end? Why did my baby have to die? Why did my mother die 10 days later? Why can't I stop thinking about how when I was in the hospital having my baby that I regret not holding my dear Aryn? Why can't I stop thinking about the week my mom was in the ICU? The breathing tubes, the fluid in her lungs, the blessing of my mother at least opening her eyes for me twice before she died.

My baby doesnt get to walk, talk, have a life. Instead he sits on a shelf in my room.

Through this, and after talking to my doctors, we've decided for me to take anti=depressants and sleeping pills for the next few months. Why does everything think its weird that I'm still on the medication in March? Its been only 4 months since my life changed forever! I'd like to meet anyone else who had to deliver a still born one day, take her mother to the hospital with pneumonia 3 days later, have your own baby's funeral 3 days after that, say goodbye to your mom forever 4 days later, and have your mother's funeral a week later. Not many people have gone through this, yet they feel obligated to tell me to get off the meds. Why am I supposed to be happy? Why can't I have a bad day? Why when I find maybe one person that might be able to relate to me am I told that it would probably be best to not talk to this woman about failed pregnancies? Dont you think the one who actually went through the same thing as her would know what to say? I feel like no one wants to hear about Aryn or my mom anymore. Not even my husband.

Now here I am, working like a dog, 9 classes away from graduating, yet still not in school, and feeling more lonely than ever before. When I cry, I can't stop. If this is what I'm feeling March 1, how the hell will I feel on Aryn's due date? Better yet, how will I feel on Mother's Day, as a daughter without a mother and a mother without a child?

Dio la Benedice, Mom

Amelia MacDonald, 60, of Gilbert AZ passed away on November 17, 2007 surrounded by her loving family. She is survived by her husband, William John MacDonald and her four children, William MacDonald Jr. and his wife Ashlee, Maria Hanson and her husband Adam, Rebecca MacDonald and Michael MacDonald, her sister Angela Eager of Connecticut, niece Laura Newman, and nephews Joseph Altman and Daniel Rouleau, also from Connecticut, and several cousins and aunts from New York.
Amelia was born on December 22, 1946 in Potenza, Italy to the late Attilio and Teresa Saltarelli. She moved to the United States in October 1954 and grew up in Brooklyn, New York where she attended Eastern District High School. She moved to Bridgeport, Connecticut in 1977 and attended Sacred Heart University in Fairfield, CT, earning her Associates Degree in Accounting. In 1979 she met her husband William and married in 1981. Shortly after, they moved to Huntington, CT where they began their family, and moved to Gilbert, AZ in 1997.

Known to her friends as Amy, she was actively involved in and dedicated to all of her children’s activities, and followed their pursuits with passion. She was the principal of religious education for St. Lawrence Church in Huntington, CT for several years, and was active in the Hamilton High Band Booster and Shumway Elementary School PTO. She loved to knit and crochet afghans, doilies, and crafts for her children. She cherished Italian family traditions, cooking her “mean” sauce every Sunday, and maintained Italian customs for herself and her family.

She was a strong believer in family, education, the Catholic religion and standing up for what you believe in, even if you’re standing alone. She follows her first grandchild, Aryn Hanson into heaven who pre-deceased her on November 7, 2007. An inspiration to her children and pillar to her family, she will be remembered and missed dearly.

A memorial service and viewing will be held on Friday, November 23, from 6-9pm at Allen Funeral Home, 1130 S. Horne, Mesa. The funeral service will be held on Saturday, 11am November 24, at St. Anne Catholic Church, 440 E. Elliot Road, Gilbert. Interment will follow the service at Queen of Heaven cemetery, 1500 E. Baseline Road, Mesa.

"A pair of shoes"

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Author unknown

Aryn J Hanson

These last 3 days have felt like a blur. Probably due to everything emotionally, and the medicine. It was a lot of work. First, we used citosin to get me to get contractions. By evening of the 2nd night, I started getting little ones. Around 1am today I was switched to a more aggressive medicine. I conracted for the next 9 hours. At 10:08, I delivered Aryn. 9 1/2 inches tall 290 grams. So beautiful. 10 fingers, 10 toes. Aryn had Adam's lips. The hospital was wonderful. They were very caring, and thougful, and went out of their way to make me and my family comfortable. They put this picture of the leaf and tear drop on my door so all doctors and nurses knew what was going on. Our parents contacted the Queen of Heaven mortuary for us.

Delivering Aryn was so hard. I chose to not do an epidural, (I have this horrible fear of needels anywhere near my spine) and used other medications to ease the pain. My body hurts all over, and to top it off, my heart aches. I begged to be released that day. I did not want to stay where other moms were enjoying the delivery of their babies. Maybe I was jealous, or angry, or just too sad. Either way, I'm glad to be home.

"The distance between joy and sorrow can be measured by a heartbeat."

Reading about it soothes me

hmph....

He's gone...

I knew the answer. I told him it was ok to let go. We listened for the heartbeat, there was none. Checked for heart activity on the ultrasound, there was none. I will be induced and deliver on Monday.

Pregnant today

Tomorrow will take forever to come
We will see if we continue, or if we are done
I might hear your heart, and I'll sigh with relief
Or I might hear nothing, to which I will grieve
It will be the loudest silence I'll have to endure
I'll ask to listen again, just to be sure
You tickled my belly, I rubbed you so
We knew each other; every high and every low
I close my eyes and think of you
You'll be with God, that is true
I can't understand why it has to be
I can't understand why you can't be with me
Its hard to know that I couldn't protect you
As your mother, I failed to perfect you
I know I'll see every night in my dreams
Sometimes that won't be good enough, and I'll want to scream
I know some people say its better this way
But what do they know? Its us who has to pay
I'm hours away from knowing our fate
And when that hour comes, my heart will hurt great
Until then I'll rub my belly and pretend you are ok
And enjoy these last moments of being pregnant today