Hospitals, Hernias & Holidays
July 2, 2011 at 11:32 pm | Posted in emergency room, Grief, hospital, parents, twins | 10 CommentsTags: fathers, hernia, Jake, motherhood, Sawyer, twins
Yesterday I called Evan and told him to come home immediately. As I hung up the phone, I questioned if I overreacted. We had been at a close friend’s house playing. All was normal except when we left one twin ran to the car and the other was dragging his left foot. I asked if he wanted me to pick him up. It is not unusual for him to get tired and ask to be carried. However, when I picked him up he screamed to be put down.
Finally I got everybody in the car. As I drove I thought maybe he was having an allergic reaction. Maybe he could not walk because his feet were swollen. Or maybe his shoes were too small and he needed new shoes. I opted to stop at CVS rather than the shoe store. At this point, they both were screaming. She wanted ice cream. He wanted to sit down. After buying Benadryl, 2 toy cars and frozen yogurt to go, we were back in the car. I made the call to Evan. One of us needed to take him to the doctor.
At home I stripped him down to look for hives. He was very swollen in his groin area. Evan got home and took him to the after hours pediatric urgent care. I fully expected a call telling me there was an unexplainable allergic reaction (like many others in the past) and the hives would be gone in the morning.
Instead Evan called to tell me that he was on his way to the ER. The hive was actually a hernia. I needed to go to the ER. Luckily, I was able to drop off the well twin back at our friend’s house. Thank you again!!
I got to the ER just in time for the ultrasound. He screamed, cried and begged (politely) for the ultrasound technician to please stop. Evan and I held him down. Ok, Evan held him down. I had to go cry in the hall.
After the ultrasound we waited to speak to the surgeon. While waiting, I went to the bathroom. The bathroom was right across from this hospital’s “consult room.” The “consult room” was where Evan and I held Jake for the last time. It was where we were when the ER doctor told us that Sawyer was dead. They were different “consult rooms,” in different hospitals but they looked the same. Standard issue plastic couch and chair. Generic flowery art. Striped carpet.
As I reached the door of our ER room I looked through the glass panel of the door. Evan was holding hands with our very much alive son. I thought of the glass partition which Alice Wisler so insightfully used to describe bereaved parent’s desire to be so close and so distant from their living children. I walked back into the room.
The surgeon arrived. He originally said that we would be checked in and surgery would be the next morning. An hour or so later, we were told that due to life threatening cases and the holiday weekend we would need to go home. We were discharged early this morning. Surgery will be scheduled for this week. I am going to kiss the twins one more time right now.
There is no place like home
June 28, 2011 at 11:18 pm | Posted in Grief | 3 CommentsTags: child loss, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer
“It always amazes me to think that every house on every street is full of so many stories;
so many triumphs and tragedies, and all we see are yards and driveways.” Glenn Close
Evan and I bought our first house the year we got married. It was a 3 bedroom house. Our bedroom, a guest bedroom and what we hoped would be a baby’s room. Jake, our first-born, never came home. However, during the time I was pregnant and while Jake was alive, we referred to the 3rd bedroom as Jake’s room.
After Jake died, I was not able to go into the room. I shut the door. I desperately wanted to move or renovate the house so that Jake’s room no longer existed. I cannot explain my anger toward the house but it was very real. Evan and I started to look for houses with a real estate agent.
Luckily, someone wisely advised us not to make any major life changes for at least 6 months to a year after Jake’s death. We stopped the house search for the time being.
Eighteen months later when we found out that we were expecting the twins my need to move resurfaced. I did not want the twins to sleep in Jake’s room. Once again, we started the house search. We had a contract on one house and it fell through. I resigned myself to staying in our house.
Miraculously, we found another house when I was 8 months pregnant. Everything fell into place. We moved up the street from our old house. Whatever bad house karma was there I was convinced we were leaving it behind us. The twins came home from the hospital to their own room. Jake’s room was still down the street.
Fast forward to the November, 2009 – Sawyer came home. The night of December 25 he went to sleep in his room. At 2:46 am on December 26th the paramedics were performing CPR on Sawyer on our bedroom floor. We are still not sure but it is very possible that Sawyer died in our house that night.
So after leaving one house where Jake had a room which he never slept in, we now live in another house where Sawyer came home, lived for nearly 6 weeks and died. Funny (or maybe not so funny) how life works. I am not angry at the house this time. It does not matter where I live – my memories of Jake and Sawyer will always move with me.
Perfect Parenting?
June 26, 2011 at 10:50 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 8 CommentsTags: child loss, fathers, grief, hope, life after loss, motherhood
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 CommentsTags: child loss, hope, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer, twins
“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:
Father’s Day
June 19, 2011 at 10:46 pm | Posted in father, Grief | 4 CommentsTags: child loss, fathers, grief, life after loss
A grieving father is often refered to as a “forgotten parent.” As I quoted Harriet Sarnoff Schiff, in this post nowhere in the history “of sex discrimination is there a more glaring injustice than that thrust upon a bereaved father.” It is hard to find resources for a bereaved father. However, I did come across the Grieving Dad’s Project, which was created specifically to assist father’s with their journey through grief.
This week I helped the twins make Father’s Day cards for Evan. They made him art projects too. I can not help Jake and Sawyer wish their dad a happy father’s day so here is my best attempt:
A Father’s Day Wish From Heaven
Adapted from Jody Seilheimer poem
A Mother’s Day Wish From Heaven
Dear Mr. Hallmark,
We are writing to you from heaven,
and though it must appear
A rather strange idea,
We see everything from here. We just popped in to visit,
your stores to find a card
A card of love for our father,
as this day for him is hard.
There must be some mistake we thought,
We saw every card you could imagine
Except we could not find a card,
from a child who lives in heaven.
He is still a father too,
no matter where we reside
We had to leave, he understands,
but oh the tears he’s cried.
We thought that if we wrote you,
that you would come to know
That though we live in heaven now,
We still love our father so.
So you see Mr. Hallmark,
though we no longer live on earth
We must find a way to remind him
of his wondrous worth.
He needs to be honored,
and remembered too
Just as the children of earth will do.
Thank you Mr. Hallmark,
We know you’ll do your best
We have done all we can do;
to you I’ll leave the rest.
Find a way to tell him,
how much he means to us.
Confessions
June 10, 2011 at 1:23 pm | Posted in Grief, mother, mourning, silver lining, traditions, twins | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, grandparents, hope, Jake, Sawyer, twins
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.
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.
Not an Unhappy Birthday
June 6, 2011 at 11:14 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mother, silver lining, traditions | 4 CommentsTags: gratitude, hope, Jake, Jewish customs, mom, Sawyer
“Don’t cry because it is over. Smile because it happened.” Dr. Seuss
Today would have been my mother-in-law’s birthday.
Last year at this time the whole family was celebrating her birthday at the beach. This year is a very different story. I do not believe that there are any rules in this area. So, I have made up my own. On Jake’s and Sawyer’s birthdays I light a candle. I want to celebrate their birth and their life.
A few other ideas about celebrating a deceased loved one’s birthday are the following:
-
Write the person a letter
-
Visit the cemetery
-
Release balloons
-
Plant a tree in their honor
-
Make a donation in their name
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Tell stories/look at pictures
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Whatever brings you any comfort (no matter how slight it might be)
The world is a better place because Jake, Sawyer and my mother-in-law were in it. Happy Birthday Shelley.
Happily Ever After and Hope
June 2, 2011 at 11:11 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, silver lining, twins | 5 CommentsTags: gratitude, grief, hope, twins
Thank you so much for all the extremely kind and wise comments on my last post. I did not mean to sound more out of sorts than usual. Nothing significant has changed. Jake has still been dead for 5 years and 9 months. Sawyer has still been dead for 18 months. I have many good things in my life – for which I am very grateful and happy. I just always believed my life would have a “happily ever after” ending which did not include burying 2 children.
Now I need to adjust my expectations. I have done this before and I am sure that I will again. For now I am going to try to be like Jimmy Buffett and “. . . live happily ever after, every now and then.”
Hand-me-downs and Hope
May 30, 2011 at 10:22 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, gratitude, hope, Jake, Sawyer, twins
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.
Hope, Hair and Happiness
May 28, 2011 at 11:41 am | Posted in Grief, mother, silver lining | 7 CommentsTags: cancer, gratitude, grief, hope, mom, motherhood
After Jake died I did not brush my hair. I did not change my clothes. I did not shower. I am not sure how many days I went on like this but it was quite a few. Finally, some friends strongly encouraged me to make a hair cut appointment. I am pretty sure someone ended up making the appointment for me. And, driving me to the salon. I remember feeling better after the appointment. Thank you to my friends who had the good sense to have a hygiene and hair intervention.
Throughout my life I try to volunteer. The week after Jake died Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. After Sawyer died the earthquake devastated Haiti. I wish I had the emotional and physical energy to donate my time to both of these causes. However, when I have not had the energy or the time I have donated my hair. Especially after talking to my mother-in-law about losing her hair I realized how important it is to have the option to wear a wig.
This week I donated my hair for the 3rd time to Pantene’s Beautiful Lengths. Here is my crazy long hair before:
I donated 9 inches of hair:
Here is my hair after:
It takes 6 donations to make one wig. So I have officially donated 1/2 a wig.
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