Sawyer’s Story (part 14): Seeing Sawyer

March 29, 2011 at 11:20 pm | Posted in Death, funeral, Grief, mourning | 3 Comments
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All I wanted to do was see Sawyer again and hold him.  Somehow I thought none of this would be true if I saw him.  He would not really be dead if I held him and talked to him. 

Me & Sawyer

Evan and I made calls to the funeral home and the cemetery.  Both the people who helped us with Jake’s funeral arrangements were still there.  We made appointments to plan another funeral.  I just wanted to know when we could see Sawyer.  His body had been taken to the medical examiner’s office.  After the autopsy he would be brought to the funeral home. 

We went to the funeral home.   Evan and I sat in the same room we had been in 4 years earlier. We had the meeting about the casket, the service and all the other arrangements.  It was not a long meeting.  Just like with Jake there was no choice of casket.  There is only one size casket for babies. 

The meeting was over and Sawyer had not arrived.  We were told that we would not be able to see him till the next day. 

We thought of you with love today,
but that is nothing new.
We thought about you yesterday,
and the day before that, too.
We think of you in silence,
We often say your name,
But all we have is memories
and your picture in a frame.
Your memory is our keepsake,
with which we’ll never part.
God has you in his keeping,
We have you in our hearts.

We shed tears for what might have been,
a million times we’ve cried.
If love alone could have saved you,
you never would have died.
In life we loved you dearly,
in death we  love you still,
In our hearts you hold a place
no one could ever fill.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
but you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you. 
                – Author Unknown

Telling the Twins

March 26, 2011 at 11:50 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, silver lining, twins | 8 Comments
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We did not have too much time to figure out how to tell the twins that Sawyer died.  I went with whatever came out of my mouth first.  Evan and I did have some time to figure out what we would tell the twins when Evan’s mom died.  Below are some options that we could have told the twins when talking to the twins about Jake, Sawyer and Evan’s mom:

  1. We lost Jake.  We lost Sawyer.  We lost Mom Mom.  They are not lost.  I knew where Jake and Sawyer were every minute they were alive.  I know where they are now that they have died. On a separate point,  if they were lost –  I would have found them by now (if I had not found them, some one should report me to family services and/or the police).
  2. Jake, Sawyer and Mom Mom went to sleep.  We all go to sleep.  Some of us take longer to go to sleep than others.  No need to make going to sleep scary for the twins.
  3. Jake was sick.  Sawyer was sick.  Mom Mom was sick.  Jake was premature.  We still do not know what happened to Sawyer.  Mom Mom had cancer.  We did tell the twins that Mom Mom was sick and the medicine she took no longer worked.
  4. Jake, Sawyer and Mom Mom passed away.  I used this option quite a bit when Jake first died.  However, when I spoke to the twins about death – “passed away” did not seem quite right anymore. 

We told the twins that Mom Mom died.  We told them that she had been sick for a long time.  The medicine no longer worked.  They both looked at us.  Our daughter asked, “Where is Mom Mom?”  Before either of us could answer, she said, “Oh, I know Mom Mom is with Sawyer and Jake.”   Evan and I could not have given them a more perfect answer. 

Sawyer’s Story (part 13): Sawyer’s Sister

March 24, 2011 at 11:03 pm | Posted in Grief | 6 Comments

After the medical examiner, the police and the night nurse left, Evan and I went to the twins’ room.  They were so happy to see us.  I was hopeful that since they were so young they would not understand what had happened.  Maybe Evan and I would at least be able to protect them from the enormous grief that was drowning us.

We brought them to the kitchen for breakfast just like any other morning.  Once we were downstairs our daughter turned to me and pointed up the stairs.  She looked at me and asked, “Where is Sawyer?”  She then pleaded, “I want to see Sawyer now.”  Silence.  What could I possibly say to our 2 1/2-year-old daughter?

I took a deep breath.  I am not sure where the words came from but I told her I could not go get Sawyer.  He was not home.  He had gone to live with Jake.  Evan and I had always spoken about Jake to the twins.  We told them that he was their big brother.  And now, Sawyer had gone to live with Jake. 

We fed the twins breakfast.  I called our pediatrician and family friend.  I told him that Sawyer was dead.  I asked him the same questions over and over.  What could have happened to Sawyer?  Should I have the twins checked out immediately?  The twins watched television and played. 

One of my good friends came over with cabbage to help me begin weaning myself from breast-feeding.  My parents arrived early that day and helped watch the twins.  I think other people came over but I truly cannot remember.  Evan and I were there but not there. 

Thankfully, that first day ended.  It was the twin’s bed time.  Our son fell right asleep.  However, our daughter began to demand to see Sawyer again.  She began to cry.  She continued to cry.  No one could console her.  No one could comfort her.  

At 4 or 5 am we put on “Finding Nemo” and she finally fell asleep.  I looked at our sleeping daughter.  I do not think that a 2 1/2-year-old understands death.  She did realize that something about her world had changed and she did not like it.  I wished that I could stop the tears – hers and mine.

“A Thousand Words Can’t Bring You Back,
I Know Because I Tried
And Neither Can a Million Tears
I Know Because I Cried.”
~Author Unknown

Sawyer’s Story (part 12): Unanswered Questions

March 22, 2011 at 11:52 pm | Posted in Grief | 7 Comments

Evan and I left the hospital followed by the medical examiner and the police and Buddy and Baby met us at our front door.  I felt like we were moving in slow motion.  In our house the policeman, who was the first to arrive hours before, waited for us.  He left after talking to the medical examiner and the policeman who had already questioned us at the hospital. 

The twins were thankfully still asleep.  The medical examiner and the policeman asked the night nurse to go into the other room.  I have no idea what Evan and I did during this time. I am not even sure how long the questioning took.  I do remember that the night nurse needed a shirt.  They were taking her shirt for testing.  Sawyer had spit up while she was doing CPR.  Next, they all went to inspect the room where Sawyer had slept.  They took a few other items.  I stood there and stared blankly. 

Everyone came down the stairs.  The medical examiner and the policeman announced they were leaving.  The door closed behind them.  I could not figure out what we were supposed to do next.  My head was spinning trying to figure out how it could be possible that Sawyer was dead.  What happened?  What went wrong?  Had I done something?  Had I not done something?

No more than 2 minutes after the door closed behind the medical examiner and the policeman the twins woke up.  The night nurse offered to stay and help us with them.  Evan and I said thank you so much but we would go up and get them.  They were ready to start their day.  My thoughts shifted to the twins.  Whatever happened to Sawyer could it happen to them?  How could I protect them?  What would we tell them? 

“Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to a divine purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that we are here for the sake of each other, above all, for those upon whose smile and well-being our own happiness depends, and also for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day, I realize how much my outer and inner life is built upon the labors of others, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received.”  Albert Einstein

Buddha’s Stories & Stomach Bugs

March 18, 2011 at 5:46 pm | Posted in Grief, silver lining | 9 Comments
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I have been having trouble writing.  In fact, I have had trouble concentrating on anything at all.  I know this is partly because I cannot seem to get the twins back on a normal schedule.  I do not know if they are off because we have been away, daylight savings time or a stomach bug.  Regardless of the reason, there have been some bumpy days (and nights) at our house.

In one of my attempts to avoid the meltdowns of 2 cranky 3 year olds I grabbed a book.  It turned out to be the Kindness A Treasury of Buddhist Wisdom for Children and Parents by Sarah Conover.  We were sent many books after Jake and then after Sawyer died.  At the time I could not read most of those books.  However, the other afternoon I found myself reading these short stories to the twins.  One of the stories was about a woman named Kisa Gotami.  The following is a cliff notes version of the story:

After losing her only child, Kisa Gotami became desperate and asked if anyone could help her. Her sorrow was so great that many thought she had already lost her mind. Someone told her to find Buddha. Buddha told her that before he could bring the child back to life, she should find mustard seeds from a family where no one had died. She desperately went from house to house, but to her disappointment, she could not find a house that had not suffered the death of a family member.

Kisa returned to speak with Buddha and he asked for the mustard seed.  Kisa replied, “I am done looking for the mustard seed.  I know that in the whole city, in the whole world, there is not one family, not one person, free from the certainty of death.  It is the way of all living things – we must at some time leave one another.”

Kisa went on to say, “I felt terribly alone in my grief, but now I know that there are many others who have lost what they most cherished.  We must help each other.”

Buddha helped Kisa come to terms with bereavement.  He taught her compassion.  I do not know that I will ever understand why Jake and Sawyer predeceased me or why Evan’s mom died so young.  Maybe it is so that I will learn to be more compassionate.  Maybe it is so that I will help others.  Maybe I will never know. 

I do know that I will keep reading this book.  Who knows, Buddha could have some wisdom to share about bumpy days/nights and stomach bugs.

So sad

March 14, 2011 at 10:36 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mother, mourning | 17 Comments
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I have tried to write this post several times in the last week.  I cannot seem to find the words but I am going to try.

Evan’s mother lost her battle with cancer.  I was very lucky to have her as a mother-in-law. 

She was an amazing artist. 

She was an amazing business woman. 

She was an amazing athlete.  In one 9 month period, right after chemo for the cancer which had returned to her bones, she had 3 holes in one. 

And most importantly, she was an amazing mother, grandmother, wife, sister and friend.  I am so sad that she died.

A few weeks ago Evan and I were talking.  He told me that in a perfect world his mom would be healthy, happy and teaching art to all 4 of our children.  Here she is playing with the twins last summer:

I like to think that Evan’s mom is now with Jake and Sawyer.  Maybe, just maybe she is teaching art to them as I write.

Rainbows, Rite Aid & Readjusting

March 1, 2011 at 10:54 pm | Posted in Grief, silver lining, twins | 8 Comments
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It takes both the sun and the rain to make a beautiful rainbow.

These last few days it is difficult to see the sun.  As I mentioned in this post, we are spending time with Evan’s mom.  The good moments are fewer and farther apart.  I know that life has sun and rain.  I so wish I could write more about sunny times.   Even through the rain the twins can find the sun.  Here they are at Rite Aid:

The twins can also scout out the rainbows.

They spent a long time searching for rainbows in these crystal figurines.  Turns out flashlights combined with just the right amount of sunlight produce a lot of rainbows. 

The oil slick in the parking lot of Rite Aid.  I could have debated it is not truly a rainbow but pollution.  I did not because I have learned that I usually lose those kind of debates with our 3 1/2 year-olds.

The rainbow glasses at Mom Mom and Pop Pop’s house.

I have always hoped for miracles. 

After Jake was born at 26 weeks with hydrops, I hoped he would be among the 30% of babies who survive these enormous obstacles.  There was no miracle.

The horrible night we brought Sawyer to the emergency room, I hoped for the miracle that it would all be an awful mistake.  There was no miracle.

I now know that there will be no miracle that will give Evan’s mom back the life she had.  It is time for me to readjust what I am hoping for.

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