Dark Dark Days & Magical Moments

October 30, 2010 at 11:34 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 9 Comments

I used to refer to January of 2006 as when I hit rock bottom.   After the night Sawyer died,  I realized that was not rock bottom.   I am careful to just take each day as it is and not assign it a label.   I have to start where I am and just try to get through the day, the hour or the moment.  

January of 2006 was filled with many dark days.   As I wrote in my last post, I was cruising along on autopilot and had decided not to schedule any projects.   Without work to wake up for I found it increasingly difficult to figure out why I should get up at all.   I did always get up and get dressed (very often in the same clothes).   One of my brothers-in-law came to visit that January and we were supposed to go to lunch and the new aquarium.   I went to lunch.   I could not hold it together.   I asked Evan to drive me home.   I got back in bed and cried. 

Staying home did not seem to be helping.   I thought getting away might be the answer.  Evan and I planned a trip with my parents and grandfather to go visit my great Aunt Sophie in Florida.  We took my grandfather (age 93 at the time) to visit his sister (age 91 at the time).  We stayed at a hotel on the beach.   I very quickly realized that it did not matter where I was or who I was with – my grief and sadness came with me.   I could not run from it or hide.   I had to face it.   This was my life and I had to figure out how to live it.  

Jackie Kennedy Onassis once said:

 “I have been through a lot and have suffered a great deal. But I have had lots of happy moments, as well. Every moment one lives is different from the other. The good, the bad, hardship, the joy, the tragedy, love, and happiness are all interwoven into one single, indescribable whole that is called life. You cannot separate the good from the bad. And perhaps there is no need to do so, either.”

It has been 5 years, 2 months and 2 days since Jake’s funeral.   It has been 10 months and 2 days since Sawyer’s funeral.   Today, I was lucky enough to spend playing with the princess, the pirate and their dad.

The princess and the pirate

Autopilot

October 27, 2010 at 11:22 pm | Posted in Grief | 5 Comments

As I mentioned in this post I am not able to explain what happened with Jake without interrupting myself.  So as I left off here with life in 2005, I had gone back to work.

I would wake up every day and get dressed for work.   It would occur to me that I was extremely sleep deprived just like any other new mother.  Unfortunately, I was a new mother without a baby.   My sleep deprivation was completely self-induced.   Along with being tired I now seemed to have trouble concentrating.   Simple tasks would take me forever to complete (most likely because I forgot I was doing them or I fell asleep).  

I noticed that I looked at people differently.   Before Jake, I used to just pass people in the hall or on the street.   Now I thought about what was going on in their lives.   What were they thinking as they walked?  Had they ever lost a loved one?  Did they ever feel like the world was coming to an end?    How was it possible that they were smiling when Jake (and now Sawyer) are dead?  

My body felt different.   My arms ached.   I did not think it was possible for my arms to hurt so much.   In fact, I had never thought about my arms too much.   Now I could not stop thinking about how empty my arms were.   All I wanted to do was hold Jake.

I would drive to work, teach my classes and go home.   Rarely, did I make it through a day without crying.   Surprisingly I was able to hold it together till I got back in my car.   Note:   If you worked with me during this time period and you did see me cry in the office, feel free to correct me.   Another symptom of grief is being unable to remember.  

I was going through the motions of the day and life.  I was on autopilot.  

My project came to an end in December.   I thought that waiting a little while before starting another project might be good.  I could try to get out of autopilot.   I could mourn Jake and try to put my life back together.   This turned out to be one of my worst ideas ever.

Grandparents

October 25, 2010 at 3:02 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, parents | 6 Comments

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. 

It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. 

 ~Elizabeth Stone

However, becoming a grandparent is not something you decide.   It is the decision of your child.   Losing your child’s child is in many ways a double loss.   Not only are the grandparents mourning the loss of their grandchild, they also hurt for the pain their child is feeling.   Parents want to be able to fix things for their children.   Parents want to make it better.   Parents want to take away the pain.   

There is no way to fix the loss of a child.   There is no way to make it better.   There is no way to take away the pain.    It is a feeling of helplessness and frustration when a parent cannot fix things for their children.   Often grandparents are referred to as the “forgotten mourners”, as they are here and here.   

A loss of a grandchild is unique.  Death makes us all face the reality that we are not immortal.   It seems especially difficult when the death is out-of-order.   The circle of life does not include burying your children or grandchildren.   It is not the way things are supposed to be.

I am not writing from experience because I have not been a grandparent.   However, I often think about how Evan’s parents and my parents feel.    They grieve for Jake and Sawyer.    They also watch as Evan and I grieve.    We know that you would make it better if you could (and we would let you).    We have not forgotten you.  We thank you and love you. 

 

11 Months

October 18, 2010 at 3:10 pm | Posted in mourning, silver lining, traditions | 10 Comments

Yesterday we should have been taking 11 month pictures of Sawyer.   A very close and clever friend told me about taking pictures of her son with a sign of his age.   She said it makes it easier to go back and put the pictures in a scrapbook.   Well, I have yet to make any scrapbooks but I did borrow her idea and take the pictures.  

Every month I would print a sign.  We would put the twins in pottery barn chairs from their great grandparents.  One of us would sing head, shoulders, knees and toes and the other one would snap as many pictures as possible.   Hopefully, we would get both twins looking at the camera and/or smiles.   For example: 

Smiles, sort of looking at the camera

Both looking at the camera, no smiles

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day after taking the pictures I would email them to family and friends. Jake only lived 2 weeks so we were not able to take any month pictures. On December 17th, 2009 we did take 1 month pictures of Sawyer. We improvised and used one of the twins’ chairs with a Sawyer towel over the name. Sawyer’s pottery barn chair arrived in the mail the week after he passed away. Here is one of those pictures.

Sawyer - 1 month

Today, the day I should be sending out Sawyer’s 11 month pictures, I  am instead emailing this blog.  And, the twins’ 11 month picture:

1 smiling & looking at camera; both - haircuts

Faith & Hope

October 15, 2010 at 3:18 pm | Posted in silver lining, traditions | 10 Comments

Before I write today’s post I want to amend part of this post with two items. 

1.  The comments from my cousin David and The Good Cook are true.   The ending to our story is not tragic.   There is faith and hope.   There are possibilities for today and for the future.  Forgive me, some days I just have trouble remembering these things.

2.  After the balloon launch the twins asked to go see Sawyer and Jake at the cemetery.  They wanted to make sure that their brothers got the balloons. . .

Now back to today’s post –  At 7 pm tonight we will light candles.   As part of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month parents will light candles in honor of their babies.   The candles we will light tonight are hand-made.  Tara and Megan, the co-founders of the Walk to Remember in which we participate, make the candles.   Very impressive and thank you again for all you both do.

Today I will try extra hard to remember faith and hope. 

“When you come to the edge of all the light you know and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things will happen:  There will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly.”   – Author Unknown (borrowed from the Walk to Remember program)

Maybe the light from all the candles will make the darkness of the unknown a little brighter. 

And, as I do every day I will remember all of those no longer physically with us.  

Jake

Sawyer

October

October 13, 2010 at 5:00 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents, pregnancy, silver lining, traditions | 15 Comments

Many of you know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.   What you might not know is that October is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month.  In 1988, President Ronald Reagan proclaimed October to be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month.

In October of 1988 I was a freshman in college.   Not only did not know about this proclamation or personally know any bereaved parents, I could not have envisioned in a million years that one day I would be a bereaved parent who would bury two children.

This past weekend we participated in a Walk to Remember.  Across the country thousands (maybe millions) of families walked to remember their little loved ones.   Thank you so much to  the organizers of our walk – Tara, Megan and Aimee.

Evan and I have walked since 2006 in memory of Jake.  Now we walk for Sawyer too.   The event starts with a few speeches.  I am always in awe (and in tears) during these speeches given by bereaved parents.   The stories are all unique in many ways but also the same.     They all have the same tragic ending.

This year I looked around the crowd.  So many families.   So many babies who are no longer with us.   So much heart-break, sadness and loss.   We, along with the other families at the walk last weekend, have the “fear of the unknown. . .behind us, for most of us, because we have already taken a long look at hell.” The Bereaved Parent by Harriet Sarnoff Schiff

After the speeches there is a very short walk.   Note:  Just to clarify this year and last year we did not actually walk.   One of the twins had an accident requiring a two adult clean up right before the walking part of the event this year and last year. 

The twins writing to Sawyer and Jake

The last part of the event is a balloon launch.   We all write notes to our babies on butterfly shaped paper.  This year the twins had a big discussion about what to write on their notes.   We are not exactly sure about the topics covered in the discussion but they both completed their notes to their brothers.   We then had to explain to the twins that we needed to attach the notes to the balloon strings.   Attaching the notes to the balloons was ok with the twins.   The next part, letting go of the balloons, took some convincing.    Evan and I have gone to great lengths to emphasize the importance of holding onto balloons.   We were sending very mixed parenting signals.   However, we finally were able to pry their little hands off of the balloon strings.    And the notes were lovingly sent to Jake, Sawyer and all the other babies we remember.

People & Planning

October 10, 2010 at 11:20 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 6 Comments

A very wise man, my 98-year-old grandfather, has told me for years that “mentsch tracht, Gott lacht.”   For those of you (like me) who don’t speak yiddish this means “men make plans and G-d laughs.”  I have updated the saying just a little to “people make plans and G-d laughs.” 

Historically, I have been a planner.   I could write on and on about plans I have made and how somewhere my plans are the source of a lot of laughter.   Instead of boring you with all the broken plans, I will just give a few examples.

I had always planned/hoped to be a mother.   As you have read that plan did not go exactly as I had envisioned.   I have learned some very hard lessons about planning.   I have learned to make plans and then change them and then change them again.     

Another example, this blog.   I had planned to write in chronological order about Jake, the twins and then Sawyer.   That plan went out the window with this post.  And, I continue to interrupt myself.   Thank you all who are following me on this journey.   Turns out it is not such a straight path. 

So, today I am making a new plan.   My new plan is not to have a plan.

Emily Post, may I please have an etiquette extension?

October 4, 2010 at 10:54 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, traditions | 12 Comments

I should clarify from my last post, I do open mail.   I just don’t open it until it is screened.   My superior high-tech method of screening is Evan.   As I mentioned in this post, there are many things that I can’t handle these days – which by default (or by choice in some cases) fall to Evan.   Opening mail is in that category.

Writing letters is a different story.   The old me used to be pretty good at writing thank you notes.   From a young age I remember my late Aunt Harriett discussing with me (or maybe talking to my mom about me. . .) the importance of writing notes and cards.   Aunt Harriett definitely inspired me to correspond timely.

After Jake passed away I wrote thank you notes to everyone.   I cried as I wrote.   I felt like I was accomplishing something – or rather doing something for Jake.   The endless list of things I would never do for Jake did not include writing those thank you notes.   

When the twins arrived I diligently wrote thank you notes.   I did not cry writing those notes.   I was pretty sleep deprived so the notes may not have made any sense but they were written and mailed. 

Since Sawyer died I can not write a single note.  I know it is part of my grieving process but I just can’t seem to do it.   I have joked many times that Emily Post does not have a rule for me yet.   Recently, I was surprised to learn that she does have a rule:

“No one expects a long letter, nor does any one look for an early reply. A personal word on a visiting card is all any one asks for. The envelope may be addressed by some one else.”

Luckily for me Emily Post is not super strict:

“There is no official time frame for writing notes of appreciation to those who have extended their condolences and kindness to you.”

I am going to interpret this to mean that Ms. Post has granted me my extension. . .

Jake and Sawyer’s notes have this quote on the front of the card: 

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose;
All that we love deeply, becomes a part of us.
Helen Keller

And this quote applies to all four of our children:

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, not touched.
But are felt in the heart.
Helen Keller

Reason no. 999 NOT to open the mail

October 1, 2010 at 5:58 pm | Posted in Death, father, Grief, mother, parents | 8 Comments

I have known for several years that opening mail can be very risky.   The first one of Jake’s medical bills that I opened sent me into such a tailspin of tears that I to this day will not open anything from the hospital (where I had all four of our children).   The letters from various doctors not able to process Jake’s bills because they did not have his social security number added to my inability to open mail.

Note:  Social Security cards take approximately 6 weeks after birth to arrive in the mail.   Death certificates, oddly, take much less time.   All were additional pieces of mail that I would/could not open.

I foolishly let my guard down.   Our twins are mildly – ok, outrageously obsessed with Halloween and costume catalogs.   They study costume catalogs for hours and often try to sleep with them.   The catalogs have caused a few disputes so, I have been anxiously awaiting the mail these days in hopes that a new costume catalog will arrive (and temporarily resolve the disputes).    Yesterday, I got the mail.   There were no costume catalogs.   However, there was a large envelope addressed only to me from the Cord Blood Registry.

My mind started to create ideas for what could possibly be in this envelope addressed only to me.   We were not able to store Jake or the twins’ cord blood.  The only cord blood we stored was Sawyer’s.   The first thoughts which popped into my head were the following:

  1. The Cord Blood people have found something in Sawyer’s blood which would explain why his heart suddenly just stopped.
  2. The Cord Blood people were writing to apologize for the difficult time they gave us when we requested for some of Sawyer’s cord blood be sent to the Mayo clinic (where he is part of a study).  
  3. The Cord Blood people were writing to me to tell me that this was all a horrible mistake (I know that this crosses the lines of impossibility but it was a very brief thought/wish/hope).

None of the above thoughts were correct.  I went against my better judgment and opened the large envelope.   It was a birthday card.   A birthday card for Sawyer.   The very thoughtful Cord Blood people not only sent a card but a gift.   A book.  A book for Sawyer.   The book is Where is Baby’s Belly Button?.     I guess that the part of the company which handles requests for the cord blood to be sent out to the Mayo clinic does not communicate with the part of the company which sends out the birthday cards.   I guess the woman we spoke to extensively about the need for our baby’s cord blood so that it could be part of a study to help determine his cause of death was not able to flag our file to indicate our baby is dead.   I guess the Cord Blood people send cards and gifts early because Sawyer’s first birthday is not for another month and half.

I could not cry I was in such disbelief.   And, as you can read I have reverted back to the anger stage of grief (at least for the moment).   I will put Where is Baby’s Belly Button? on the twins’ bookshelf right next to the copies of the Best Ever Big Sister and the Best Ever Big Brother books by the same author.

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