Anytime, Anywhere

July 26, 2011 at 11:10 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents | 6 Comments
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One of the main reasons I started to write this blog was my hope to help others with their difficult journeys.  I have already written that I do not have magic words of wisdom to heal the pain of bereaved parents.  I came across a letter written by a pediatric nurse which was published by Ann Landers.  I found it helpful so I thought I would pass it along. . .

An Open Letter to Bereaved Parents

I won’t say, “I know how you feel” — because I don’t. I’ve lost parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends, but I’ve never lost a child. So how can I say I know how you feel?

I won’t say, “You’ll get over it” — because you never will. Life will, however, have to go on. The washing, cooking, cleaning, the common routine. The chores will take your mind off your loved one, but the hurt will still be there.

I won’t say, “Your other children will be a comfort to you” — because they may not be. Many mothers I’ve talked to say that after they have lost a child, they easily lose their temper with their remaining children. Some even feel resentful that they’re alive and healthy, when the other child is not.

I won’t say,“Never mind, you’re young enough to have another baby” — because that won’t help. A new baby cannot replace the one you’ve lost. A new baby will fill your hours, keep you busy, give you sleepless nights. But it will never replace the one you’ve lost.

Your may hear all these platitudes from your friends and relatives. They think they are helping. They don’t know what else to say. You will find out who your true friends are at this time. Many will avoid you because they can’t face you. Others will talk about the weather, the holidays and the school concert but never about your child. Never about how you are coping.

So what will I say?

I will say, “I’m here. I care. Anytime. Anywhere.” I’ll cry with you if need be. I’ll talk about your loved one. We’ll laugh about the good memories. I won’t mind how long you grieve. I won’t tell you to pull yourself together.

No, I don’t know how you feel — but with sharing, perhaps I will learn a little of what you are going through. And maybe you will feel comfortable with me and find your burden eased. Try me.
Written by Linda Sawley, pediatric nurse; published by Ann Landers

Beaches & Bad Questions

July 24, 2011 at 10:36 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 3 Comments
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I have always found the beach to be very peaceful.  However, it is not always super relaxing when you go with children.

I had to leave the last few days to go to work.  I did not plan the week this way but had to change things around because of the previous week.

I am a consultant and often go to offices where I have never met anyone before I arrive.  I taught a class where we were waiting for a few minutes for everyone to show up.  While waiting the people already there were talking about their dogs.  They asked me if I have any dogs.  Easy question.  I have 2 dogs.  I even showed pictures of the dogs with the twins.  All is well.

The last person to leave the class turns to me and says, “I do not mean to get personal but are you going to have more children?”  I thought I had completely avoided the “how many children do you have” question with the easy dog conversation.  No such luck.

After thinking for a few moments, I tell her that we already had more children.  Jake was very premature.  Sawyer was full term, went to sleep and did not wake up.  I quickly change the subject.

Later the same day, I am working with someone who is receiving texts from his daughter.  He asks if I have children.  I answer that we have twins at home.  I think this answer sounds pretty good.  And, then there it is again. . .”Do you think you will have more children?”

Sometimes I think that I should consider going into some kind of work where talking is not required.  .  .

Wrong Words

July 22, 2011 at 6:18 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 6 Comments
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I like to think the deaths of Jake and Sawyer have made me sensitive to grief.  However, I catch myself asking “how are you?” to bereaved people.  As soon as I say the words I want to take them back.  I know how hard that question is to answer when the world as you know it no longer exists.  I wish I had magic words to take away the pain.  I cannot think of any such words so I am borrowing the words of others. . .

Ways of helping grieving people are as limitless as your imagination.

  1. All that is necessary is a squeeze of the hand, a kiss, a hug, your presence. If you want to
    say something, say, “I’m sorry” or “I care.”
  2. Offer to help with practical matters: e.g., errands, fixing food, caring for children. Say, “I’m going to the store. Do you need bread, milk, etc.? I’ll get the.” It is not helpful to say, “Call me if there is anything I can do.”
  3. Don’t be afraid to cry openly if you were close to the deceased. Often the bereaved find themselves comforting you, but at the same time they understand your tears and don’t feel so alone in their grief.
  4. It is not necessary to ask questions about how the death happened. Let the bereaved tell you as much as they want when they are ready. A helpful question might be, “Would you like to talk? I’ll listen.”
  5. Don’t say, “I know just how you feel.”
  6. The bereaved may ask “Why?!” It is often a cry of pain rather than a question. It is not necessary to answer, but if you do, you may reply, “I don’t know why.”
  7. Don’t use platitudes like “Life is for the living,” or “It’s God’s will.” Explanations rarely console. It is better to say nothing.
  8. Recognize that the bereaved may be angry. They may be angry at God, the person who died, the clergy, doctors, rescue teams, other family members, etc. Encourage their anger and to find healthy ways of handling it.
  9. Be available to listen frequently. Most bereaved want to talk about the person who has died. Encourage them to talk about the deceased. Do not change the conversation or avoid mentioning the person’s name.
  10. Read about the various phases of grief so you can understand and help the bereaved to understand.
  11. Be patient. Don’t say, “You will get over it in time.” Mourning may take a long time. The bereaved need you to stand by them for as long as necessary. Encourage them to be patient with themselves as there is no timetable for grief.
  12. Accept whatever feelings are expressed. Do not say, “You shouldn’t feel like that.” This attitude puts pressure on the bereaved to push down their feelings. Encourage them to express their feelings — cry, hit a pillow, scream, etc.
  13. Be aware that a bereaved person’s self-esteem may be very low.
    Author unknown

Happily Ever After & Hope (part 2)

July 16, 2011 at 7:24 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 6 Comments
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It was so nice to write such a happy post last week.  Life has ups and downs and I know that without the bad times it is hard to appreciate the good times.  I recently read about the concept of “nexting” – always thinking about is going to happen next.   So I am trying very hard to appreciate the good moments right now:

After Sawyer died someone said to me that Evan and I will never live happily ever after.  It was not said with with cruel intentions.  It was an honest statement that that after burying a child (or children) life is bittersweet.

We may not have lived happily ever after even if Jake and Sawyer had lived.  And there is no alternate universe in which I can find out.  Life, marriage and kids are hard at times even if you are not a bereaved parent.  I am hoping that good times continue and when they do not maybe the bad times will not be quite as bad.  In the meantime, I will go watch the twins dance the robot:

And, I am going to confess to “nexting” because the twins and I are going to the beach soon.  They are so excited to go see their Aunt, Uncle and cousin!

Perfect Parenting?

June 26, 2011 at 10:50 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 8 Comments
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Did you ever see the movie Sliding Doors?  Gwyneth Paltrow, pre country music singing career, plays a woman whose entire life changes based on catching a train.  Her life is portrayed in the movie both as if she caught the train and as if she did not. 

I wish I could know what kind of parent I would be if Jake and Sawyer had not died.  I wish I could see my life both ways, in parallel.  And okay, I wish I could just pick the life that did not include either of them dying.

However, here in reality I know I do not get those wishes and I can not watch both options in parallel (nor will I become a country music singer).  So I must try to be the best parent I can be and accept that I will not be perfect.

Alice Wisler wrote Parenting Through a Glass Partition — After the Death of a Child.   Her son Daniel, died from cancer treatments in 1997 at the age of four. She wrote: 

“At the fast food restaurant, my children laugh in the play area as I sit drinking coffee behind the glass partition that separates the play area from the dining section. While I have hugged them so tightly their tonsils could pop out, I am still, much of the time, finding myself watching them from a distance. They are mine but so was Daniel, and in the course of a moment I know they could be gone, as he is.” 

After Jake died I could not imagine being a parent to a child who came home with us.  After the twins were born and did come home, it dawned on me that I was so focused on making sure that they were not premature that I had not considered actually being a parent.  Parts of me want (and may always want) to wrap them up in a bubble wrap and protect them from the world.  The wiser, perhaps more jaded part of me knows that no matter what I do I will not be able to protect them from every thing.

Sawyer was full term but did spend some time in the NICU.   I did keep myself at a distance.  I could not visit the NICU for long.  Once Sawyer was released from the NICU I felt incredibly guilty that I did not visit him more.  I also felt incredibly lucky that he came home with us. 

Being a parent (bereaved or not) is bittersweet, frustrating, exhausting and amazing all at the same time.  Would I be more patient, appreciative and understanding if Jake and Sawyer were here?  Would I be less bitter and more sweet?  Has grief made me a more aware and loving parent?  I will never know.  Right now all I know is that I will keep trying.

My Real World

June 22, 2011 at 11:02 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 3 Comments
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“Out of clutter find simplicity; From discord find harmony;
In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.”
 – Albert Einstein

Some mornings I wake up and have to remind myself of my reality.  Is it true I have out lived 2 of our children?  Was Jake really born 14 weeks early?  Was Sawyer just a brief wonderful figment of my imagination?  After the morning fog clears I know with unnerving certainty that they are both dead and I am alive. 

People tell me (and I remind myself) how lucky I am to have the twins.  Which of your children would you live without?  Why can I not wake up in the morning with all 4 of my children? 

I get up and face the day.  I try my best to focus on my simplicity, my harmony and my opportunity:

Confessions

June 10, 2011 at 1:23 pm | Posted in Grief, mother, mourning, silver lining, traditions, twins | 5 Comments
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When I was young I loved to travel.  I would travel whenever I could for work or fun.  After Jake died my desire to travel was gone.  I wanted to stay home so I could visit the cemetery. 

I have met a few other people while visiting the cemetery.  One grandfather visits his grandson’s grave every day.  He also takes care of the family plot.  Year round he is out there cleaning the headstone, cutting the grass and maintaining the plot.  Although I no longer go every day, I frequently want to go to the cemetery. 

One day I spoke to the grandfather about visiting the cemetery.  He said that it helps him to take care of the plot and visit every day.  I 100% understand and relate to being drawn to the cemetery.  However,  I wanted to know how he felt if he ever missed a day.  He is from the area and his whole family lives within a few minutes of the cemetery.  He has not missed a day since his grandson died over 3 years ago.  I think it is great that he has found a way to comfort himself.

I on the other hand, have family who lives out-of-state.  I no longer travel often for work but I do take trips to visit family and friends.  Every time I am away I stress about not being able to visit Jake and Sawyer’s grave (as I have written about before they share one plot).

When we were snowed in this past winter I did have fun playing with the twins.

    

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However, I worried about not being able to check on my other 2 children.  I know that they are not really there but I like to check on the little piece of land in the cemetery.  It gives me a brief sense of being able to take care of Jake and Sawyer. 

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 check.

I hold his memory dear to my heart,

And dream of holding him in my arms.

                                                                Author unknown

I know that frequent visits to the cemetery might sound morbid to some people.  Just like with birthdays I do not think there are any rules in this area.  We all find comfort in different ways.  The path in the journey of grief varies – even if you are grieving the same person (or people).  Visit or do not visit the cemetery.  Do what ever helps you at the time.

Hand-me-downs and Hope

May 30, 2011 at 10:22 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 7 Comments
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We are extremely fortunate that the twins are the recipients of hand-me-downs from our niece, nephew and a few close friends.  As the twins outgrow the clothes I put them into buckets marked with the sizes.  I then bring the buckets to our basement.  For a few years the clothes sat down in our basement with the hopes that we would have a younger sibling for the twins.

After we had Sawyer and he was safely home from the hospital I went down to the basement.  I brought up all the boy clothes from 0 to 12 months.  I washed them and put them away in his room.  In the almost 6 weeks that he was alive Sawyer wore some of the very kind gifts given to him when he was born and hand-me-downs.

Within the first few days after he died I went into his room and started to put away the clothes.  A few family members were with me.  One suggested that we send all the clothes to my brother and sister-in-law who were expecting a boy in a few months.  It sounded like a good idea to me.  However, Evan who usually stays out of the crazy clothes storing business strongly disagreed.  He was not ready for the clothes to leave our house.  The clothes went back to the basement.

Awhile later I spoke to Evan and we agreed to send some of the clothes to our new nephew.  And now every few months I go down to the basement and pack up clothes to send.   Evan helps me at times and just like so many things in our lives it is bittersweet.  I am sad when I look at the clothes Sawyer will never wear.  I am happy that they are being worn by our nephew.   And, I hope that the clothes will continue to be passed along – I just wish they stayed at our house a little longer.

Note:  I know that I keep reusing the word Hope in the titles of my posts.  I think if I keep writing it maybe I will have more of it.  I cannot figure out why but I am struggling these days.  It is not Jake or Sawyer’s birthdays or anniversaries of their deaths.  In fact, I was just telling myself that this time of year is so much easier than the time of year (from August on) filled with birthdays, anniversaries and holidays. 

It could be that the twins just finished another year of preschool.  They are growing up so quickly and their brothers are not.  Or, maybe when I looked at our wedding pictures on our anniversary I saw the me before burying 2 children.  The me who did not have trouble sleeping, the me who was not drawn to the plot in the cemetery, the me who was so hopeful for the family that Evan and I were beginning.  Whatever, the reason I will continue to try to hope and if all else fails I will just act hopeful.

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

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.

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