Perspective
December 4, 2011 at 11:52 pm | Posted in Grief, Love, mourning, parents | 7 CommentsTags: cancer, child loss, family, new not so normal, parenthood, perspective
We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are.
– Talmud
As a child my parents explained that I was named in memory of my Great Aunt Edith while my brother was named in memory of my mother’s first cousin, Mitchell. In my mind I rationalized that my great-aunt (my grandmother’s sister) was older and her death was more understandable. Mitchell, on the other hand, died young. I could not make sense of this as a child. It was so terribly sad that Mitchell did not live past his teenage years. I thought about Mitchell’s living brother and how it must feel to be the sibling left behind.
After Jake died my perspective changed. I knew Mitchell’s death was of course sad for his brother, but I had never thought about how it impacted Mitchell’s parents, my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George. They took care of Mitchell. They had to watch him die from Leukemia. The helplessness they must have felt. The lost hopes and dreams. They were members of the bereaved parent’s club long before I was ever born.
I was very close to my Aunt Sophie (my grandfather’s younger sister). She and my Uncle George did not have grandchildren. Mitchell had died young and his brother was not yet married. I realized this at the age of 8 and decided that did not seem fair. My grandparents had 5 grandchildren. In my child’s mind I felt like there was something missing for my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George.
My 8-year-old solution was to volunteer to be an “adopted grandchild” to my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George. First, I called my grandparents and asked them if it would be okay. They said yes. Next, I called my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George and they agreed as well. Finally, I drafted the “adoption papers.” It all seemed so simple at the time. Now as a bereaved parent myself I realize that there is nothing simple about the death of your child.
We could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.
– Helen Keller
The Club
November 28, 2011 at 9:06 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, Sawyer, unexplainable
There is a club that Evan and I have joined. Not many people talk about it although many have written about it. There are no dues for this club – at least not monetary ones. I have no idea how large the club is in numbers. There are no rules. No board members. Unlike most clubs no one actually wants to join this one.
It is a club whose only members are parents who have outlived their children.
Evan and I first joined in 2005 when Jake died. There are acronyms like “BLM” (baby loss mother) and “BLF” (baby loss father) that I now find to be very common terms. Membership in this club has taught me that there are no rules to living when your child has died. You have to do whatever it takes to get you through the day and to survive. The tools that I used to rely on to live no longer always help me.
I realize now that this club is made up of parents from every religion, class and country. There is a good chance that some of your neighbors belong to this club. I thought we already had a lifetime membership but our places in the club were once again secured when Sawyer died.
“Do not judge bereaved parents.
They come in many forms.
They are breathing, but they are dying.
They may look young, but inside they have become ancient.
They smile, but their hearts sob.
They walk, they talk, they cook, they clean, they work,
they are, but they ARE NOT, all at once.
They are here, but part of them is elsewhere for eternity.”
–Author Unknown
Thankful
November 24, 2011 at 10:58 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, gratitude, holidays, hope, infertility, new not so normal, Sawyer, twins
I looked back at my post from last Thanksgiving. In some ways I have come a long way. In other ways not so much. I wanted to cancel the entire holiday season last year. It was the holiday season where Sawyer should have been turning 1. I could not understand how everyone was just going along being happy and celebrating. I felt the same way the holiday season after Jake died. I avoided any and all holiday parties. I could not pretend to go through the motions. I desperately wanted to scream, cry and run to some place where Jake and Sawyer were with me.
No matter what I do the world keeps on going without Jake and without Sawyer. This year Evan and I tried to return to our holiday plan from years past. The first years of our marriage we tried to see all 3 sets of our parents. We even forced ourselves to go the year that Jake died. The next year we had to stay in town because we had gotten onto the infertility rollercoaster.
We did somehow manage to get ourselves back on the visiting all 3 sets of family schedule once the twins were born. I am still not quite sure how we pulled that off with 3 month old twins. In 2009 Sawyer was born the third week of November. We came home from the hospital the week of Thanksgiving. Needless to say we stayed home that year.
I have a brilliant friend who came up with the fantastic plan to celebrate Thanksgiving early with her family. No travel, no stress. We have not found that happy Thanksgiving place yet. Maybe we never will. We will keep trying. I will continue to be so very thankful for our families and friends and to hold on tight to what I can. Happy Thanksgiving to you all!
How are you? (part 2)
November 14, 2011 at 10:28 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining | 10 CommentsTags: child loss, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, Sawyer, yoga
This question has got to be one of the most common greetings. I wrote my first post about it. People really just want you to say all is well and move on. I used to be able to do that. I would even ask the question myself. After Jake died, I could not any longer. It felt like a lie to say, “I am fine, how about you?” I have tried all kinds of tactics to avoid answering this question. I quickly ask the other person how they are and never answer at all. I say things like, “I am hanging in here.” Or, “Just taking it all day by day.”
I know that I am not in the dark valleys of grief all the time. Jake and Sawyer did die. I am always sad about their deaths. I do try to still live. However, I never truly feel fine. Until this weekend. In my yoga class the instructor said, “How are you?” And then he followed up with, “We are all fine, aren’t we?” And then he defined fine for me:
F*!*!D UP INSECURE NEUROTIC EMOTIONAL
I can now honestly answer, “I am fine thanks, how are you?”
Namaste.
Dear Sawyer
November 4, 2011 at 12:10 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, Jewish customs, life after loss, new not so normal, parenthood, Sawyer, tragedy, unexplainable
Dear Sawyer,
It is difficult for me to believe but in 2 weeks you would have been 2 years old. We should be planning your birthday party. The invitations should have been sent. I should be running last-minute errands to Party City and Michaels. Instead your dad and I are trying to finalize your headstone. It is mostly your dad. I am not so good with the headstones. It should be finalized soon. I saw Maureen from the cemetery the other day. I asked her to call me before they put your stone in the ground. I know it has been ordered and it will arrive one day soon. I am going to try to prepare myself. I am going to be extra strong so that I do not lose it when I see your name in stone. It is just so permanent.
Your daddy and I are also figuring out your unveiling. I wish more than anything we were discussing how many cupcakes to order for your birthday party. People have told me that we do not have to have an unveiling. I know. When your child dies there are very few rules you have to follow. But, in my heart it feels wrong not to do anything (not nearly as wrong as you dying). We will figure it out. Sometimes it is just so hard. We have to move forward. We have to breathe. We have to live in a world without you and your brother.
I miss you so much sweet Sawyer. Where are you? Wherever you are please know how much your mommy loves you. I like to think that you are playing with Jake. Mom Mom and Grandmother are taking care of you. I love you baby boy, I will see you in my dreams.
Love always,
Mommy
A Band & A Baby
October 18, 2011 at 8:10 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, silver lining | 3 CommentsTags: child loss, motherhood, tragedy, twins
I joined a band. Not the musical kind of band but a different kind. The mission of Band Back Together is below or click on the link to read more about it:
Our Mission
Band Back Together is a group weblog that provides educational resources as well as a safe, moderated, supportive environment to share stories of survival. Through the power of real stories written by real people, we can work together to destigmatize mental illness, abuse, rape, baby loss and other traumas so that we may learn, grow, and heal.
All are welcome.
Not sure what I am doing in the band but I will figure it out. . . .
I also wanted to welcome my new nephew, Ethan, to the world! I cannot wait to meet him. And introduce him to his big cousins.
Life & Light
October 15, 2011 at 11:18 am | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, silver lining | 3 CommentsTags: death, grandparents, grief, hope, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer, unexplainable
“Instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle”
– – Benjamin Franklin
Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day. It is a day to promote and support the education and awareness for grieving parents. Today and every day I miss Jake and Sawyer but tonight at 7 pm we will light candles. This year I will once again hope that the light from all the candles will make the darkness of the unknown a little brighter.
As we honor and remember the short lives of Jake and Sawyer today. I would also like to honor the long life of Evan’s wonderful and amazing grandfather (aka GGP), Si Picker (if you click on the link skip down to the section titled “Naked with Brad Pitt”). If you do not click on the link I will give you the cliff notes version. Si Picker around the age of 60 became an actor. One of the films that he was in was called Johnny Suede with a very young Brad Pitt. Pitt was having a dream sequence in which GGP was sitting naked on a bar stool.
I know that death is part of life. GGP’s death is the natural order life – it is still so sad.
“Love is stronger than death even though it can’t stop death
from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can’t separate people
from love. It can’t take away our memories either.
In the end, life is stronger than death.”
– – Anonymous
Burritos, Buddha & Baggage
September 30, 2011 at 11:20 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 7 CommentsTags: Buddha, death, grandparents, gratitude, grief, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer, siblings, twins, unexplainable, yoga
I have been trying to move past the fact that there may never be an answer to what caused Sawyer’s death. It is hard to let go. A moral from one of the twins’ books has been helping me with this process. The twins’ great grandparents recently gave them a book call Zen Shorts by Jon J. Muth. Have you ever heard the Buddhist tale about the Monk with the Heavy Load?
One day two traveling monks reached a town and saw a young woman waiting to step out of her sedan chair. There were deep, muddy puddles and she couldn’t step across without getting mud on her silk robes. She impatiently scolded her attendants, who were carrying heavy packages.
The younger monk walked by the young woman without speaking. But the older monk stopped and picked her up on his back, carrying her across the mud. Not only did she not thank the monk, she shoved him out of her way when he put her down and scurried by him.
As the two monks continued on their way, the younger monk was brooding. After a long time, he finally spoke out. “That woman was so rude but you picked her up and carried her! She didn’t even thank you.”
“I set the woman down hours ago,” the older monk responded. “Why are you still carrying her?”
Letting go does not mean forgetting Sawyer or Jake. It means moving forward. It will not always be a straight path. Luckily, I have some little monks with me on this journey. Here they are in burrito pose (or more commonly known as shavasana):
Namaste.
NICU Nurses
September 16, 2011 at 11:48 pm | Posted in Grief, hospital, mourning, NICU, parents | 6 CommentsTags: bereavement training, child loss, life after loss, parenthood
This week I, along with 3 other mothers, spoke to group of NICU nurses. The nurses have bereavement training. The purpose of parents speaking is so that we can give feedback about our experiences at the hospital. I listened to the other women recount their bittersweet experiences. I spoke about mine. This is the second time I have spoken to a group of NICU nurses. I am very thankful that this group of people are able to be NICU nurses. I never could do it. I am so amazed by their skill and compassion.
The other women who spoke turned their grief into action. One of the women and her husband started a grief group at their church. Another women writes a blog. The third woman started a group called Rock Goodbye Angel. The purpose of the group is to “encourage families who have lost a baby to regain hope by caring for them during their time of grief so that they know they are not alone.”
I think that the 4 of us gave the nurses some helpful feedback. A few suggestions came out of the discussion:
- Hospital staff (nurses, chaplains, etc.) perhaps do not need to bring up topics such as funeral arrangements and autopsies while the baby is still alive. Parents of babies in the NICU are trying to focus on hope and survival.
- Inform everyone in the hospital when there has been a death so before they come into your hospital room they already know. This way when the person who comes to empty the trash they will not ask how the baby is doing. Our hospital puts a dove outside the door to indicate tha the baby has died.
- It would be great if there were separate entrances and exits for parents whose baby has died. Waiting in the wheelchair after being discharged from the hospital all the mothers are in the same area. It was excruciating leaving Jake in the hospital and waiting with happy new parents and their babies did not help. On the flip side, when I left the hospital with the twins, I was waiting in the wheelchair for Evan to pick us up. I was sitting next to a mother with empty arms. I knew what that meant and my heart broke for her.
- Continuing bereavement training is helpful for caregivers, friends and family.
“Though we encounter it as suffering, grief is in fact an affirmation. The indifferent do not grieve, the uncommitted do not grieve, the loveless do not
grieve. We mourn only the loss of what we have loved and what we have valued, and in this way mourning darkly refreshes our knowledge of the causes of our loves and the reasons for our values. Our sorrow restores us to the splendors of our connectedness to people and to principles. It is the yes of a broken heart. In our bereavement we discover how much was ruptured by death, and also how much was not ruptured. These tears lead directly to introspection.” Leon Wieseltier, The New Republic’s literary editor. (sent to me by my sister-in-law Melanie – thank you!).
Anniversaries (again)
September 10, 2011 at 3:44 pm | Posted in Death, father, Grief, mother, mourning, parents | 4 CommentsTags: child loss, death, fathers, grandparents, grief, life after loss, mom, siblings, tragedy, unexplainable
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.
I posted the above last year at this time. On the anniversary of 9/11 and every day, my heart, prayers and thoughts go out to not only the victims but to those who they left behind in this world.
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