Costco 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.

Reason no. 999 NOT to open the mail

October 1, 2010 at 5:58 pm | Posted in Death, father, Grief, mother, parents | 8 Comments

I have known for several years that opening mail can be very risky.   The first one of Jake’s medical bills that I opened sent me into such a tailspin of tears that I to this day will not open anything from the hospital (where I had all four of our children).   The letters from various doctors not able to process Jake’s bills because they did not have his social security number added to my inability to open mail.

Note:  Social Security cards take approximately 6 weeks after birth to arrive in the mail.   Death certificates, oddly, take much less time.   All were additional pieces of mail that I would/could not open.

I foolishly let my guard down.   Our twins are mildly – ok, outrageously obsessed with Halloween and costume catalogs.   They study costume catalogs for hours and often try to sleep with them.   The catalogs have caused a few disputes so, I have been anxiously awaiting the mail these days in hopes that a new costume catalog will arrive (and temporarily resolve the disputes).    Yesterday, I got the mail.   There were no costume catalogs.   However, there was a large envelope addressed only to me from the Cord Blood Registry.

My mind started to create ideas for what could possibly be in this envelope addressed only to me.   We were not able to store Jake or the twins’ cord blood.  The only cord blood we stored was Sawyer’s.   The first thoughts which popped into my head were the following:

  1. The Cord Blood people have found something in Sawyer’s blood which would explain why his heart suddenly just stopped.
  2. The Cord Blood people were writing to apologize for the difficult time they gave us when we requested for some of Sawyer’s cord blood be sent to the Mayo clinic (where he is part of a study).  
  3. The Cord Blood people were writing to me to tell me that this was all a horrible mistake (I know that this crosses the lines of impossibility but it was a very brief thought/wish/hope).

None of the above thoughts were correct.  I went against my better judgment and opened the large envelope.   It was a birthday card.   A birthday card for Sawyer.   The very thoughtful Cord Blood people not only sent a card but a gift.   A book.  A book for Sawyer.   The book is Where is Baby’s Belly Button?.     I guess that the part of the company which handles requests for the cord blood to be sent out to the Mayo clinic does not communicate with the part of the company which sends out the birthday cards.   I guess the woman we spoke to extensively about the need for our baby’s cord blood so that it could be part of a study to help determine his cause of death was not able to flag our file to indicate our baby is dead.   I guess the Cord Blood people send cards and gifts early because Sawyer’s first birthday is not for another month and half.

I could not cry I was in such disbelief.   And, as you can read I have reverted back to the anger stage of grief (at least for the moment).   I will put Where is Baby’s Belly Button? on the twins’ bookshelf right next to the copies of the Best Ever Big Sister and the Best Ever Big Brother books by the same author.

How many children do you have?

September 26, 2010 at 11:06 pm | Posted in mother, parents | 23 Comments

This is such a simple, polite question. Before 2005, the answer to this question was so easy. “No, I don’t have any children.”

After Jake was born and died, the question became so complicated and difficult. A new neighbor moved in shortly after Jake passed away. She was pregnant and friendly. She asked very innocently, “Do you have any children?”  I quickly replied “no.”  As I walked away my answer felt all wrong.   I did have a child.  Why had I not answered yes?

I then proceeded to stay up all night until I felt like it was a decent hour to knock on her door.   The sun finally came up and I marched over to her house.   I explained that last night I told her that I did not have any children and that was not true.  I had a son.  His name was Jake.  He had lived.   He was our child.

When I was pregnant with the twins people would ask, “are these your first?”.   I would answer, “no.”  And, then I would hope they would change the subject or walk away.   However, usually they would continue and ask, “how old is your other child?’.   I had practiced my answer to this question so many times that I could get through it without crying (usually).   My answer, “Our first son was 14 weeks premature.  He lived for 2 weeks.   We never got to take him home.   These will be our 2nd and 3rd children.”

Over time my answer became so automatic that I would just rattle it off.   Until 2010.   For example,  at the playground the twins were playing.   These days I try not to speak to other mothers and caretakers at the playground.  The common conversation topic is about children – which makes perfect sense.

My twins love babies.  They saw a baby girl playing with her grandmother.   They ran over to her.  I ran after them.  The grandmother watched how excited the twins were to see the baby.  She simply and politely asked, “how many children do you have?’  Luckily, the twins made such a fuss over her granddaughter that I could pretend that I did not hear the question.

The grandmother persists.   She joked with the twins “you should ask your mother for a baby.”  My twins replied, “we already have a baby – his name is Sawyer.”  In fact, the twins have even gone so far as to decide that Sawyer will be a spider for Halloween.  I cannot respond to the grandmother.   So, I once again pretended that I did not hear what was being said.

One day I will have another answer to this question.  Today is not that day.

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