Mixed Up Mother’s Day

May 8, 2011 at 10:20 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mother, traditions, twins | 7 Comments
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The definition of a mother is “a woman who has, conceives, gives birth to, or raises a child.”

I am so lucky that I woke up this morning to our two happy twins saying “Happy Mother’s Day!” to me.   I am also so fortunate and grateful that I was able to call my mother to wish her a happy Mother’s Day.  I know that there are people whose mothers, grandmothers and/or children have died.  I know that this day can be challenging on many levels.

As I have written about before, I often silently tell myself to “remember the past, hope for the future but live in the present.”  No matter how many times I repeat this saying I cannot help but to think about past Mother’s Days.  .  .

Mother’s Day 2005 – I was pregnant with Jake.  We spent the day with my mom and my grandmother.  My brother, sister-in-law and our 10 month old nephew had the whole family over to their house.  We had not been for the nuchal screening test yet.  I was blissfully ignorant and happy.

Mother’s Day 2006 –  I was in a no (wo)man’s land of mothers.  I was a mother with no child to care for and raise.  Jake had been dead for less than a year.   Evan and I went to the cemetery.  We planned Jake’s unveiling and hoped for the possibility that Jake would one day have a brother or a sister. 

Mother’s Day 2007 – I was pregnant with the twins.  I still felt like I was living in a no (wo)man’s land of motherhood.  Jake had been gone for nearly 2 years.  We went to the cemetery.  We had gone for an OB appointment the Friday before Mother’s Day.  Our OB, who was one of the few people who met Jake, said to me at the end of the appointment that I should be really happy because I was now going to have my first official Mother’s Day.  I still remember how those words cut through me like a knife.

Mother’s Day 2008 – The twins were 10 months old.  According to anyone’s definition I was now a mother.  Jake had been dead for almost 3 years.  I was happily exhausted.  We visited Jake at the cemetery and spent the day with the twins.

Mother’s Day 2009 – I was pregnant with Sawyer.  The twins would be 2 at the end of July.  Jake would have been 4 that August.  We visited Jake at the cemetery and spent the day with the twins.

Mother’s Day 2010 – Sawyer had been dead 4 1/2 months.  The twins were almost 3.  Jake would have been 5.  We visited Jake and Sawyer at the cemetery.  I cried most of the day and tried to play with the twins.

Today we went to the cemetery.  One of the twins left a toy for her brothers.  She said she was leaving the toy to make Jake and Sawyer happy.  As I sit here and write I think she makes me happy.  So do all three of her brothers.

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.

More Magic Moments

February 24, 2011 at 4:58 pm | Posted in Grief, mother, silver lining | 15 Comments
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As I wrote in this post,  I try to appreciate good moments.  For the past 2 weeks Evan, the twins and I have been at Evan’s mother’s house.  My amazing mother-in-law was diagnosed with breast cancer 18 years ago.   She was on a form of oral chemo through the spring of 2003.  At that time the cancer came back in her bones.  Since 2005 she has had chemo 3 weeks on and 1 week off.  She had beaten all the odds until this year.

We are here spending time with her.  It is not easy but worth it.  Every day there are some good moments.   A rabbi has been coming to the house.  She explained a Hebrew term called “yikar.”  There is no exact translation but it means “treasure” or “gem.”   I try to etch these moments into my memory so that I will always have them.

I cannot help but think of precious moments we had with Jake and Sawyer.  All of Jake’s time with us was in the NICU but there were some good moments.  The days when Jake was doing well and reducing his reliance on the ventilators.  The day that I was able to change Jake’s diaper for the first (and only) time.  I always smile when I think of the one and only time Evan changed Jake.  Jake peed on his dad.

We were lucky enough to have more magic moments with Sawyer.  Among my favorites are bringing him home from the hospital and introducing him to the twins.  Evan’s mom was not able to meet Sawyer.  The weekend that they were supposed to visit was the weekend that the twins got sick.  Her immune system was compromised and we could not take a chance that the twins would get her sick.  The trip was postponed.  Sawyer died before they were able to visit.

One day last week it was unseasonably warm.  Evan’s mom was able to sit on the back deck.  She was able to visit with some friends.  The twins played in the snow and mud.  I will try to focus on the yikar – the treasured moments that we are able to capture.

Sawyer’s Story (part 6): A normal night

January 16, 2011 at 7:28 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, parents | 4 Comments
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The twins woke up from their nap not long after I took this picture of Sawyer and Evan.  Everyone was much calmer and happier when they woke up.  The twins played.  I fed Sawyer again.  We all ate dinner together.  The twins, Evan and I sat at the table.  Sawyer was in his bouncy seat next to me.   The second that Sawyer dropped his pacifier one of the twins would jump up to get it for him. 

After stories, songs, more blankets and every other stalling tactic the twins could come up with Evan and I put the twins to bed .  During the bedtime routines I held Sawyer when I could.  If Evan and I were helping the twins Sawyer would sit in his bouncy seat.  

The twins were asleep around 8 pm.  Then, Sawyer and I Skyped with my parents.  I fed Sawyer again.  He fell asleep.  I walked our dogs.  Evan stayed with Sawyer and cleaned the kitchen.  I called my brother while I walked the dogs.  I remember telling him about my challenging day with the twins and how excited I was that we had a night nurse coming over soon.

At 10:15 pm the night nurse arrived.  She had worked with the twins before but this was the first time she had met Sawyer.  Evan and I went over everything about him with her.  There was not too much to go over.  Sawyer had some congestion since birth.  He had been to the pediatrician.  The doctors all said he was perfect.

In his 5 1/2 weeks he had spit up twice.  He was a good eater.  He ate every 3 to 4 hours.  I was breast-feeding so we were not sure how exactly how many ounces Sawyer ate.  That night I would pump so that I could sleep.  The night nurse would give him his next feeding.

Sawyer had just gotten baby acne and the night nurse told me what to put on it.  I was very excited to try her remedy – I was anxious for his baby acne to go away.  I was holding him the whole time we were talking.  Finally, the night nurse said, “Give Sawyer to me so that you can go get some sleep.”  Evan and I kissed our baby boy.  I placed Sawyer in the night nurse’s arms.   If I had known this would be the last time I would hold him I would have never let him go.

In our room I pumped.  Evan brought the milk to the night nurse a little after 11:00 pm.  We were both asleep by 11:30 pm.

No more NICU

November 28, 2010 at 4:56 pm | Posted in father, mother, NICU, transient tachypnea | 6 Comments

Evan went to the NICU first.  He reported that it was not at all like with Jake.  There were no huge machines hooked up to our baby.  In fact, he was the biggest baby in there.  I just wanted him back in our room – back in my arms.  

It was time to feed him so Evan wheeled me to the NICU.  It was a trip I had made many times before to see a different baby boy.   I choked back the tears.  Inside the NICU it looked the same.  The isolates, the nurses, the babies and our baby boy.  I knew he was a different baby boy but it was all too similar.  The room was hot and it began to spin.  I got sick and begged Evan to wheel me back to my room.  

In the hospital room I cried and tried to pull myself together.  Evan stayed in the NICU and would come back to the room to give me reports.  All the reports were good.  We were told that often once a baby is admitted to the NICU the baby will usually stay until it is time for the baby and the mom to go home.  I pumped and sent milk to the NICU.  I worried about not bonding with the baby.  I worried about not being able to name the baby.  I worried about not being a good enough mother.

The next day I worked up the courage to return to the NICU.  It was still hot.  The room still was spinning but I was able to feed our baby boy.  Bridget, Jake’s NICU nurse, was working that day.  She was not Sawyer’s nurse but she came over to talk to us.  We had not seen her since the morning Jake had died.  It was comforting to see her.  She had recently had a child of her own.  She told us how often she thought of Jake.  Bridget looked at our new baby and as she spoke about him I knew that this was different.  This baby was not Jake.  He would not stay in the NICU for long.  However, I still did get sick as soon as I got back to my hospital room.

The next day our baby boy was brought back to our room.  And we named him, Sawyer Brady.

I am Sawyer

Looking back now maybe this was Sawyer’s way of letting us know that everything was not perfect.  Maybe he was trying to prepare us for what was to come.

Sawyer’s Story (part 2)

November 23, 2010 at 9:38 pm | Posted in father, mother, NICU, parents, pregnancy, transient tachypnea | 6 Comments

The morning of November 17th we drove to the hospital.   It was all going according to plan – we had even packed a bag.  The previous two emergency c-sections Evan had to leave the hospital to go get our things.  

It took a few times for the doctors to get the epidural correct but before we knew it I was being wheeled into the operating room.  I remember the doctors calmly talking about their day during my c-section.  There were three people in the operating room with me and Evan.  In contrast,  Jake and the twin’s birth were both crowded and far from calm.  At 1:52 our beautiful perfect baby boy was born.  

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We all went to the recovery room together.   I could not help but to think back to the recovery room after Jake was born.   Evan and I were there without our baby.  We did not know if we would ever see Jake alive again.   Now, here we were holding our full term 8 lb, 1 oz. baby boy.   Not only could we both hold him but I was able to feed him.

We all left recovery and went to our hospital room together.   I did not want to let go of him.   Two hours after being back in the hospital room I tried to feed him again.   His color seemed to change.   We asked a nurse to come in the room and take a look at him.   She said that she needed to take him to the nursery to check him out.   The nurse came back a few minutes later to tell us that he was being admitted to the NICU for transient tachypnea.

My brain could not process what was happening.   Our baby (who still had no name at this point) was perfect.   He was a full term baby.  He was 8 pounds!  Jake was 14 weeks early so of course he would go to the NICU.   I had even thought there would be a good chance the twins would go to the  NICU.   How could our full term singleton possibly be in the NICU?    

Several doctors and nurses explained to me that transient tachypnea was very common.   It is extra fluid in the baby’s lungs which would normally be squeezed out when the baby went through the birth canal.   During a c-section there is no squeezing so the fluid was still there.   I heard the words but it still did not make any sense to me.  This could not possibly be happening.

Sawyer’s Story

November 21, 2010 at 9:36 am | Posted in NICU, parents, pregnancy | 4 Comments
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Notes: 

1.  Thank you for the birthday wishes for Sawyer and for thinking of us.   It means more than I can express in words.  

2.  I am not sure I will be able to write all of Sawyer’s story but I will try.    I had hoped to write in chronological order but as I already mentioned in this post – that plan has changed.  

I had high risk pregnancies with Jake and the twins.   Once you are high risk you seem to stay that way.   So, like the first two pregnancies we went to OB and perinatologist appointments.    However, unlike the first two pregnancies, this time the doctors all said the same thing.   “Everything looks perfect.”   The appointments were shorter because the baby was always doing great and within normal ranges.   We had many ultrasounds all of which showed our perfect baby.

The c-section date was set at 37 1/2 weeks.    It was a bit early to reduce the risk of going into labor.   As I mentioned in this post, I had a slight vertical incision and a horizontal incision during Jake’s c-section.   Once you have a vertical incision doctors don’t like you to go into labor (because of the possibility of your uterus rupturing).

I did go into early labor at the end of October.   We went to the emergency room.   I was given shots of Turbutiline to slow the contractions down.   We spent the night at the hospital.  In the morning I was released and given Turbutiline pills to keep the contractions under control.  Everyone assured us that this was very common.  It seemed to work.  I just felt like I had 18 cups of coffee while I took those pills.   It is not a feeling I was very fond of but I desperately did not want a premature birth (or a visit to the NICU).

November 16 arrived and I was still pregnant!   We went that morning for a scheduled amniocentesis to doublecheck  that the baby’s lungs were fully developed.   Later that afternoon the results came back that the baby’s lungs looked great.

My parents were taking care of the twins while we were in the hospital.   I had never been away from them for that long.   At the suggestion of our therapist ( who we had been seeing since Jake) I wrote them each notes for every night I would be gone.    Evan also taped me reading stories to play them at bed time.   I was packed and cleaned the house.   It was all so very different  from the chaos of the two previous emergency c-sections.   All was going along perfectly as we hoped and planned.

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.

Grandparents

October 25, 2010 at 3:02 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, parents | 6 Comments

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. 

It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. 

 ~Elizabeth Stone

However, becoming a grandparent is not something you decide.   It is the decision of your child.   Losing your child’s child is in many ways a double loss.   Not only are the grandparents mourning the loss of their grandchild, they also hurt for the pain their child is feeling.   Parents want to be able to fix things for their children.   Parents want to make it better.   Parents want to take away the pain.   

There is no way to fix the loss of a child.   There is no way to make it better.   There is no way to take away the pain.    It is a feeling of helplessness and frustration when a parent cannot fix things for their children.   Often grandparents are referred to as the “forgotten mourners”, as they are here and here.   

A loss of a grandchild is unique.  Death makes us all face the reality that we are not immortal.   It seems especially difficult when the death is out-of-order.   The circle of life does not include burying your children or grandchildren.   It is not the way things are supposed to be.

I am not writing from experience because I have not been a grandparent.   However, I often think about how Evan’s parents and my parents feel.    They grieve for Jake and Sawyer.    They also watch as Evan and I grieve.    We know that you would make it better if you could (and we would let you).    We have not forgotten you.  We thank you and love you. 

 

October

October 13, 2010 at 5:00 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents, pregnancy, silver lining, traditions | 15 Comments

Many of you know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.   What you might not know is that October is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month.  In 1988, President Ronald Reagan proclaimed October to be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month.

In October of 1988 I was a freshman in college.   Not only did not know about this proclamation or personally know any bereaved parents, I could not have envisioned in a million years that one day I would be a bereaved parent who would bury two children.

This past weekend we participated in a Walk to Remember.  Across the country thousands (maybe millions) of families walked to remember their little loved ones.   Thank you so much to  the organizers of our walk – Tara, Megan and Aimee.

Evan and I have walked since 2006 in memory of Jake.  Now we walk for Sawyer too.   The event starts with a few speeches.  I am always in awe (and in tears) during these speeches given by bereaved parents.   The stories are all unique in many ways but also the same.     They all have the same tragic ending.

This year I looked around the crowd.  So many families.   So many babies who are no longer with us.   So much heart-break, sadness and loss.   We, along with the other families at the walk last weekend, have the “fear of the unknown. . .behind us, for most of us, because we have already taken a long look at hell.” The Bereaved Parent by Harriet Sarnoff Schiff

After the speeches there is a very short walk.   Note:  Just to clarify this year and last year we did not actually walk.   One of the twins had an accident requiring a two adult clean up right before the walking part of the event this year and last year. 

The twins writing to Sawyer and Jake

The last part of the event is a balloon launch.   We all write notes to our babies on butterfly shaped paper.  This year the twins had a big discussion about what to write on their notes.   We are not exactly sure about the topics covered in the discussion but they both completed their notes to their brothers.   We then had to explain to the twins that we needed to attach the notes to the balloon strings.   Attaching the notes to the balloons was ok with the twins.   The next part, letting go of the balloons, took some convincing.    Evan and I have gone to great lengths to emphasize the importance of holding onto balloons.   We were sending very mixed parenting signals.   However, we finally were able to pry their little hands off of the balloon strings.    And the notes were lovingly sent to Jake, Sawyer and all the other babies we remember.

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