Yahrzeit
December 15, 2010 at 4:44 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, traditions | 13 CommentsTags: child loss, death, grief, Sawyer
As I wrote in this post, I really appreciate most of the Jewish mourning customs. And for the most part I am on board with observing the Yahrzeit, a time of remembering the dead by reciting the Kaddish, lighting a 24-hour candle, and remembering the person who has died. The Yahrzeit falls annually on the Hebrew date of the deceased relative’s death according to the Jewish calendar as opposed to the secular calendar.
My only issue with observing Sawyer’s yahrzeit (not counting the fact that I cannot spell the word) is that according to the Jewish calendar Sawyer’s yahrzeit is tomorrow. And, like most Jewish holidays it begins at sunset the night before and lasts for 24 hours. Tonight we will light a candle and say a prayer for our sweet baby boy.
We will say kaddish, a mourner’s prayer. Anita Diamant writes in her book Saying Kaddish, that “Kaddish reminds mourners of their obligation both to dream of a world of peace and to build it — without delay.” I think this means that I should continue to repeat to myself the phrase I have already mentioned in an earlier post. “Remember the past, hope for the future but live in the present.” And thanks to my very wise and close friend I have a new quote from the movie Kung Fu Panda:
“There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the “present.” ”
No promises that I can do this but I will try not to dwell on how different our lives were a year ago. I will try hard not think about the secular anniversary of Sawyer’s death because it is not today. I will try to stay focused on today’s gift.
Exhaustion
December 12, 2010 at 11:44 am | Posted in Grief, mourning, twins | 2 CommentsTags: child loss, grief, life after loss, twins
At the beginning of December last year a series of unrelated events began to happen at our house. First, one of the twins had a crazy reaction to his H1N1 booster. It was like there was a big red ring around his arm. I took him to our pediatrician (and friend). We got a referral to an allergist.
Second, Sawyer continued to have congestion. We were told when he was released from the NICU that he still had extra fluid and that he might have some congestion. So, we tried not to worry about it too much. One set of my in-laws came to visit and meet Mr. Sawyer that first week of December, 2009. Evan took Sawyer to the pediatrician at the end of that week. The pediatrician said that Sawyer was congested but it was very normal for a newborn to have extra fluid or possibly a cold. We had been putting saline drops in his nose a few times a day and that seemed to clear up the congestion. The pediatrician said to continue the saline and Sawyer would be fine.
Third, was the croup. The twin without the reaction to the H1N1 shot started to cough like a seal. I had never heard of croup but quickly found out about it when I took her to the pediatrician. She had to have breathing treatments but did not have to be hospitalized. The twins, who had been sleeping through the night (for the most part) for over a year, were now up quite a bit.
Sawyer was over 8 lbs. and he would go at least 3 hours between feedings. However, between the feedings, the twins and life in general exhaustion began to set in. I knew that lack of sleep was common with a newborn. I also believed that we would find some balance in our lives which would involve more sleep.
As I wrote about in this post, time can be tricky. Someone told me the following:
Nights with a baby can be long but the days go by very quickly.
We had no idea just how quickly our days with Sawyer would go. Despite being tired, our days with Sawyer were much brighter and I am so very grateful for every one of them.
Awkward Appointments & Awesome Acting
December 4, 2010 at 4:44 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, death, grief, life after loss
I was cast in one of the lead roles in my 6th grade play, The Taming of the Shrew. Andrew Schulz had to kiss me on stage but that is different story. My acting career pretty much began and ended right there in 1982 in my elementary school all-purpose room. Until I became a bereaved parent. In 2005, I was cast in the role of a mother with a newborn son who died. In 2009, I was cast for the role once again.
William Shakespeare wrote, “all the world’s a stage.” This is so true in the life of a bereaved parent. I will be out to dinner or talking to someone on the phone and they will say “you are doing really great.” I will try to remember what exactly I said or did to give such a good impression. And, I think to myself what a good actress I am.
Then there are other times that I seem to forget my “I am doing really great” lines. For example, I went to the dentist the other day. I have not been to the dentist since the week before Sawyer was born. I have gone to the same dentist for over 10 years and I don’t mind going there. I knew they would ask “how is the baby?” We did not send out birth or death announcement for either Sawyer or Jake. I could have avoided the whole thing and switched dentists (I did switch hair salons for this very reason).
I chose to stay with the same dentist and play my part as the bereaved mother. However, my “I am doing great” lines had all been forgotten. I am pretty forgetful these days so I should not be surprised. Instead, I cried. I cried and explained that our perfect baby boy had died. Luckily (or unluckily depending how you look at it), during a dental cleaning there is only so much crying and talking you can do.
After crying through my dentist appointment I was happy to get out of there. As I drove away I realized this was the first time in months that I had spoken about Sawyer for so long. Now that I think about it maybe the title of this blog works both ways – it could also be awesome appointments and awkward acting.
Happy Birthday
November 17, 2010 at 7:18 am | Posted in Grief | 17 CommentsTags: child loss, death, grief
Today would have been Sawyer’s first birthday. Or, more accurately it is his first birthday but he is not here to sing to and hug. I have so many unanswered questions.
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Would he have blue or brown eyes?
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What would he look like now?
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Would he have been walking?
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What would have been his first word?
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Would he throw his cake on the floor like his brother? Or, would he dive right into it like his sister?
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Why did Sawyer have to leave us so soon?
I will never know. These and so many other questions will remain unanswered.
However, I do know that I will always love and miss him.
Sawyer, somehow I hope you know how much you are loved and missed.
Happy Birthday sweet baby boy.
- Sawyer
P.S. I do hope one day the results from the Mayo clinic study will help me to better understand at least medically why Sawyer died.
Time can be Tricky (part 2)
November 14, 2010 at 11:02 am | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, silver lining | 10 Comments“Time heals all wounds.” Really, does it? If it does, how much time? It has been 5 years since Jake died and I am not healed. Time certainly has changed my wounds but they are not gone. Keeping busy helped me to live in a world without Jake. The grief and the sadness were still always there but have become a part of me. The twins brought and continue to bring happiness to my life but it does not take away the loss.
Sawyer’s death in December, 2009 was not only devastating for the mere fact of losing Sawyer but it reopened the wounds from Jake’s death. The pain of losing Sawyer is so excruciating at times that I cannot let myself think about it. I put it away in a box and do not take it out. I live in my land of denial and keep myself busy. Toddler twins don’t leave too much free time so, often it is not a problem to stay in the land of denial. I know that time will change this. I will leave the land of denial more frequently and maybe one day I will not return to it. However, it is impossible for me to believe there will come a time that I will be healed from losing my baby boys.
As I wrote in this post, I try to stay present. I repeat to myself “remember the past, hope for the future but live in the present.” It is just extremely difficult at times because the present does not include Sawyer or Jake.
Time can be Tricky
November 10, 2010 at 4:42 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, twins | 6 CommentsOne of the 40 definitions of time according to Webster’s dictionary is ” a moment, hour, day, or year as indicated by a clock or calendar.”
Time can be a very tricky thing. I clearly remember periods of my life when I wanted to rush time. When I was 15 I could hardly wait to turn 16 so that I could get my driver’s license. Last year at this time I again, wanted time to move quickly. I could not wait to meet our new baby.
Now all I want is for time to stop. I do not want Sawyer’s first birthday to arrive. There will not be a first birthday party this weekend or next. We are not ordering a cake to place in front of Sawyer to see what he will do with it. We are just further in time from when I last held him in my arms. I hope to always remember that feeling but time is constantly making it more distant. The sound of his cry is slowly becoming a memory.
Daylight saving time gave us one extra hour before Sawyer’s birthday. However, one more hour will not help for long. I know that time will move on and it will be next week before I know it.
There are things that we don’t want to happen but have to accept, things we don’t want to know but have to learn, and people we can’t live without but have to let go. – Author Unknown
I believe that I will see Sawyer and Jake one day (although as I wrote about in this post I am not always clear on my religious beliefs since Sawyer died). I do not know for sure but perhaps time is taking me closer to when I will hold Jake and Sawyer again. One thing I do know for certain is that there is no better way to spend time than with the twins and their dad.
Next Steps (2006)
November 8, 2010 at 7:58 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, silver lining | 1 CommentJanuary, 2006 made me realize I needed help. We were already in therapy. My family and friends could not help me. I needed to help myself. I had to figure out how to live in a world without Jake.
I very slowly came up with a plan. My plan had several steps. It would be revised, it would change and evolve. (In December of 2009 it would be shattered)
1. I needed to look for a full-time job. Running my own business was not working. I could not keep myself organized. I could not concentrate. I just wanted to wake up, get dressed and go to the same place every day.
2. Evan and I needed to find a support group. Support groups were suggested to us several times. However, up till this point I was not able to handle anyone else’s sad story. I could barely deal with our own. Now, I needed to see how other parents got up every morning after their child (or children) had died.
3. The most frightening part of the plan – we started to talk about trying to have another baby.
Excerpt from Thoughts on Becoming a Mother (read at the 2006 Atlanta Walk to Remember) Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that G-d leads me to, I will not be careless with my love. I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain. I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall. I have prevailed. I have succeeded. I have won. So now when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs. I listen. And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes. I have learned to appreciate life. Yes I will be a wonderful mother. – Author UnknownCostco and Confusing Conversations
November 4, 2010 at 4:58 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mother, pregnancy, silver lining | 10 Comments
2 for 1
A new Costco opened near our house. I took the twins shopping there the other day. I put them into the cart. As I pushed them along, I saw a family who used to be in our Gymboree class. The mother and I were pregnant at the same time last year. Our due dates were a few weeks apart.
She was holding her 11 month old daughter. She looked at me and she was trying to remember how she knew me. She asked “Do I know you from music class?”. I thought about running the other way but decided to just tell her that we were from her 3-year-old son’s Gymboree class. She said “Right, we were both pregnant last fall. Smart of you to leave the baby at home.”
In my mind, I quickly go through the scenarios. If I had responded with the following:
1. “Yes, Sawyer is happily at home. I have to go now so I can get home in time to feed him.” She would wave goodbye and walk away with her baby.
2. “No, Sawyer is not at home. He passed away.” She would also wave goodbye and walk away with her baby.
As desperately as I want to come home and feed Sawyer, I know it is not my reality. I took a deep breath and calmly explained that he was not at home. He had died.
Earlier this week we had another confusing conversation:
A woman was speaking to me and the twins in passing. She mentioned her 1-year-old son. As I wrote in this post the twins love babies. The twins excitedly tell her about their baby brother. I quietly explain that their brother passed away.
The woman then said to the twins, “You will see your brother again.”
Smiling the twins quickly reply, “We see Sawyer now. We bring him flowers.”
The woman tries again, “Well, he is in a better place.”
The twins answer, “Yes – we send him balloons.”
At this point, I walk away and the twins follow. My head hurts. I don’t know what to say to the twins or to the women in these conversations. How do I explain what I do not understand? Maybe I should just stay home.
Dark Dark Days & Magical Moments
October 30, 2010 at 11:34 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 9 CommentsI 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 CommentsAs 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.
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