Back to work

September 28, 2010 at 10:44 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, silver lining | 7 Comments

In late September of 2005 my maternity leave came to an end.  As I mentioned here and there, maternity leave without a baby at home is no picnic.   Turns out, going back to work had challenges as well. 

When I went into labor with Jake I was working as a consultant.  When I went back to work not everyone knew what happened.  Acquaintances who passed me in the halls saw me 26 weeks pregnant in August.   At the end of September I was back at work.   A very natural question upon seeing me for the first time would be “how is the baby?”.  I had thought of this and had been rehearsing my responses in my head.

As much as I knew the questions would be asked and as much as I had rehearsed my responses, I was not prepared.   “Did you have a boy or a girl?”   The pit in my stomach grew and tears welled up in my eyes but I spoke.   “We had a boy – his name was Jake.  He passed away when he was 2 weeks old.”   Then, I ran to the bathroom, went into a stall and cried.  

There is only one thing worse than speaking ill of the dead –

and that is not speaking of the dead at all.

                              — Anonymous

I had decided that I would always speak about Jake.   It might be hard for the person asking the question but I needed (and need) to talk about him.   Now, I need to speak about Jake and Sawyer.

So, in late winter of this year I was jogging.  I saw in the distance a neighbor who I had not seen since Sawyer was born and died.   I thought of turning around and going down another street but decided to take my chances.   I smiled, said hello and tried to speed up.   Behind me I heard her ask, “How is the baby?  Are you getting any sleep with the three kids?”.   I knew I had no choice but to stop and answer her.   I spoke – I am not even sure what I said but I know that I answered.  

The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,

But it never fails to bring music to my ears.

If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of his name.

It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul.  

                                            – – – Author Unknown

How many children do you have?

September 26, 2010 at 11:06 pm | Posted in mother, parents | 23 Comments

This is such a simple, polite question. Before 2005, the answer to this question was so easy. “No, I don’t have any children.”

After Jake was born and died, the question became so complicated and difficult. A new neighbor moved in shortly after Jake passed away. She was pregnant and friendly. She asked very innocently, “Do you have any children?”  I quickly replied “no.”  As I walked away my answer felt all wrong.   I did have a child.  Why had I not answered yes?

I then proceeded to stay up all night until I felt like it was a decent hour to knock on her door.   The sun finally came up and I marched over to her house.   I explained that last night I told her that I did not have any children and that was not true.  I had a son.  His name was Jake.  He had lived.   He was our child.

When I was pregnant with the twins people would ask, “are these your first?”.   I would answer, “no.”  And, then I would hope they would change the subject or walk away.   However, usually they would continue and ask, “how old is your other child?’.   I had practiced my answer to this question so many times that I could get through it without crying (usually).   My answer, “Our first son was 14 weeks premature.  He lived for 2 weeks.   We never got to take him home.   These will be our 2nd and 3rd children.”

Over time my answer became so automatic that I would just rattle it off.   Until 2010.   For example,  at the playground the twins were playing.   These days I try not to speak to other mothers and caretakers at the playground.  The common conversation topic is about children – which makes perfect sense.

My twins love babies.  They saw a baby girl playing with her grandmother.   They ran over to her.  I ran after them.  The grandmother watched how excited the twins were to see the baby.  She simply and politely asked, “how many children do you have?’  Luckily, the twins made such a fuss over her granddaughter that I could pretend that I did not hear the question.

The grandmother persists.   She joked with the twins “you should ask your mother for a baby.”  My twins replied, “we already have a baby – his name is Sawyer.”  In fact, the twins have even gone so far as to decide that Sawyer will be a spider for Halloween.  I cannot respond to the grandmother.   So, I once again pretended that I did not hear what was being said.

One day I will have another answer to this question.  Today is not that day.

Maternity Leave

September 22, 2010 at 4:08 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 11 Comments

Every day after Jake’s funeral I would go visit his grave.    As I wrote in this post, I had a c-section.   I was not allowed to go back to work for 6 weeks from the day of the surgery.  I was on maternity leave with no baby at home.  I would go take care of a little plot of grass in Arlington cemetery.  I would cry, bring flowers and sing.   I would go every day without fail.   I felt like the poem below was written about my feelings (however, I am not the author).

Dream

I am drawn quietly to his grave to check on him,

Just as I’d have been drawn quietly to his crib.

I trim the grass around his marker,

And dream of trimming bangs from his forehead.

I place flowers in his vase,

And dream of placing kisses on his cheek.

I hold his memory dear to my heart,

And dream of holding him in my arms.

                                             Author unknown

Four and a half years later I once again found myself on maternity leave with no baby at home.   People often say to me at least you have the twins.   Yes, I am so very lucky that I have the twins.   I am just still so very sad that Sawyer is gone.   The twins no longer can help take care of their little brother.

After Sawyer’s funeral, I could not bring myself to go to the cemetery.   I could not sing – not to Jake, not to the twins and not to Sawyer.   I was silent and so very sad.    There has now come a day that I can go back to the cemetery.    I am even able to sing to Jake, the twins and Sawyer at times.   I am still so very sad and so very lucky that this time around I do have these cheeks that I can kiss.

Sitting Shiva

September 16, 2010 at 11:50 pm | Posted in funeral, mourning, traditions | 4 Comments

I am uncertain about my religious beliefs these days – especially since Sawyer passed away.   However, I am very certain that I really appreciate the Jewish mourning customs.   As I mentioned in this post, I am a big fan of the shomerim.  Another Jewish custom that I appreciated was that funerals must be held as soon as possible.   Jake’s funeral was approximately 30 hours after he passed away.

As we left the funeral two rows of people formed.  Evan and I walked through the rows and for the first time I was distracted from my vision of Jake’s casket.   The friends and family surrounded us to offer their condolences.   I had not realized until this point that Jake had impacted so many people. 

After the funeral it is the Jewish custom to sit shiva.  “Shiva” is derived from the word sheva which means seven.   Shiva is the mourning period during the first seven days following a death.  I cannot imagine what would have happened to me and Evan if we had come home from Jake’s funeral to an empty house.   The fact that friends and family were at our house constantly during those first few days was so helpful (not to mention it probably kept me from completely losing it. . .).

In the back of my brain I knew that there would be a day, not so far from then that I would be alone in the house.   Evan would go back to work.  Friends and family would go about their lives (as they should).  I would have to figure out what was next.  How would I get through the days and the nights in a world without Jake (and now Sawyer)?  But, that day – the day of Jake’s funeral I did not have to think about the days ahead.   I felt a bit like Scarlett O’Hara when she wanted to escape reality.   “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

Jake’s Funeral

September 14, 2010 at 9:24 pm | Posted in Death, funeral | 16 Comments

The morning of Jake’s funeral arrived.   It still did not seem real to me.  I just moved through the motions.   Some one told me to get dressed.   I tried to get dressed but quickly realized I had asked my father, brother and father-in-law to remove anything baby related from the house – including my maternity clothes.   I did not see a problem with wearing the black t-shirt and sweatpants that I had been wearing for days.   However, my mom stepped in and dressed me in clothes I knew I would never wear again.

We drove to the funeral home.  We met with the rabbi.   We were allowed to see Jake one last time.   Once again I begged him to open his eyes.   He did not.   Evan and I sang to Jake.   We drove to the cemetery behind the hearse.  I knew there were a lot of people around but all I could see was Jake’s tiny casket.   I could not take my eyes off of it.   It took all of my will power not to jump into the ground with the casket.  I swore that if we ever had to bury another child that I wanted to be buried too.   Later I would have to take those words back.

The rabbi performed a short service.   My brother spoke.  He had just come from my grandmother’s funeral so this was the second funeral he spoke at that week.  My brother also read something Evan had written the night before.   I am still in awe that he had the ability to write anything that night.  Below is what he wrote:

We love you Jake.

You are our sunshine.

You are such a courageous and strong fighter, and we are so proud of you.

Jake, you are a miracle, and we thank you for choosing us to be your parents.

You are so wise for someone so young and so small.  You knew when you had to come into this world Jake, and you knew when you had to leave us to be in a better place.

You are and were the perfect son for us.

Jake, please know that we felt all the love you gave to us during your time here.

We are sad that we could only spend such a short time with you, but we are so glad and thankful for every minute of it.

It is amazing how we could come to love you so immediately and so completely even though we were just getting to know each other.

Then again, we feel like we have known you all of our lives, and you will be in our hearts forever and beyond.

We are so grateful to all of you, both here in person and here in spirit, who have offered such kind words and prayers for Jake and for us.

We know Jake heard them all and appreciated each one.

Jake, we also know that you are at peace and that you are being watched over by all of our loved ones who also watch over all of us from above.

Thank you, Jake.

Thank you for coming to us.

Thank you for choosing us.

Thank you for loving us and letting us love you with all of our hearts.

We’ll see you every night playing up with the moon and the stars.

Anniversaries

September 12, 2010 at 4:40 pm | Posted in Death, Grief | 7 Comments

The tragedy of 9/11 and its’ anniversary are kinds of grief.   It is of course, an enormous source of grief for all of the families and friends who lost loved ones.  It is also the kind of grief in which you realize that the world as you knew it will not ever be the same.

Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans the week that Jake passed away.   A very close friend of mine took her 5-year-old son in for his check up and the pediatrician found a rare heart condition.   My grandmother had died.  I felt like the world was coming to an end.   So, I asked the rabbi who presided at Jake’s funeral about the possibility that the world was ending.   He replied with an analogy.   He said that it is like when you decide you are going to buy a certain kind of car.   Once you make the decision you start seeing the car every where.   So, my take away from his explanation was now that I was grieving I would start to see grieving every where. . . Turns out you don’t have to look too far for grief in this world.   The record 7.0-magnitude earthquake hit Haiti shortly after Sawyer died.

I know that 9/11, where close to 3,000 people died; Hurricane Katrina, where 1,500-1,700 people died; and the earthquake in Haiti, where almost 230,000 people died are tremendous losses compared to the death of two babies.   But, those babies were mine.   And, my world will never be the same as it was before they had died.

There is not a contest for who has the most grief.   I am not trying to compare my losses to these catastrophic tragedies.   There are not any winners here.  In grief we have all lost.   However, there is still the next day and the day after that.  And one day, there is a point where we will realize that our loved ones are dead but we are still alive.

Fathers

September 7, 2010 at 10:36 am | Posted in father, parents | 15 Comments

In her book The Bereaved Parent, Harriet Sarnoff Schiff wrote, nowhere in the history “of sex discrimination is there a more glaring injustice than that thrust upon a bereaved father.”  I could not agree more with this statement.   Evan, during that awful August, took care of everything.  Evan spoke to the doctors.   He spoke to the nurses.   He took care of Jake.  He took care of me.

I remember once waking up in the hospital around 2 am and trying to figure out where Evan was.   I could hear him but I could not see him.   It turns out he was in the bathroom trying to check all of the messages.  He wanted to make sure he let all of our family and friends know the latest update.   He wanted to ease everyone’s worries if possible.

Evan returned to work 2 weeks after Jake and later Sawyer passed away.    I on the other hand was home on “maternity leave” (which being home on maternity leave with no baby is no picnic – but this post is about fathers not mothers).    Evan got up, got dressed every day and worked.

Jake’s headstone was ordered and when it came in it was wrong.   The name on it was Jack.   The next headstone to arrive was also wrong.   I could not handle it.   Evan took care of all the details and made sure that by the time I saw it, it was correct.   I thank him more than I can ever express in words.   I am still amazed at his strength.

It must be very difficult

To be a man in grief,

Since “men don’t cry”

and “men are strong.”

No tears can bring relief.

It must be very difficult

To stand up to the test,

And field the calls and visitors

So she can get some rest.

They always ask if she’s all right

And what she is going through.

But seldom do they take his hand,

“My friend, but how are you?”

He hears her crying in the night

And thinks his heart will break.

He dries her tears and comforts her,

But “stays strong” for her sake.

It must be very difficult

To start each day anew

And try to be so very brave –

He lost his baby, too.

(Author Unknown)

Evan holding Jake

Evan holding Sawyer

The past, the future & the present

September 3, 2010 at 10:37 pm | Posted in silver lining | 12 Comments

I have been writing a lot about the past.   Here in 2010 some days it feels like Jake and Sawyer passed away just yesterday.   Oddly, on other days it seems like it was forever ago that I last saw them both.   I try to “be present.”  “Remember the past, hope for the future but live in the present”  is a phrase I often repeat to myself.  I can’t remember where I read it or who told me the phrase – I would credit them if I could.  It is pretty hard to stay present all the time.  Have you tried it?

Life throws us all curve balls – death, divorce, infertility, unemployment, miscarriages, sickness (I could go on but you probably get the point).   All of these events cause us to be sad and grieve.   We all grieve in different ways.   If there was a Life 101 class in college on how to handle these events, I unfortunately missed it.  At first, I was looking for the steps to get through the grief (similar to AA’s 12 step plan).   I quickly found out that there are no steps and no plan.   Everyone has to find their own way through the grief.   It is very difficult at times and some days seems impossible.  A few things that help me on really bad days:

  1. I try to remind myself that I am not alone (although I often feel like I am)
  2. A very wise friend once suggested to me that I just try to find one thing I like to do every day and do it.   It does not matter how small the thing is – it could even be taking a shower. . .
  3. Exercise
  4. And, I do remember the past but I try to think back to not only the painful and difficult times but also to the really good moments . . .

Me & Sawyer

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