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.
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:
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.
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.
Mixed Up Mother’s Day
May 8, 2011 at 10:20 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mother, traditions, twins | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, Jake, mom, motherhood, Sawyer, twins
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.
Telling the Twins
March 26, 2011 at 11:50 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, silver lining, twins | 8 CommentsTags: cancer, death, grief, twins
We did not have too much time to figure out how to tell the twins that Sawyer died. I went with whatever came out of my mouth first. Evan and I did have some time to figure out what we would tell the twins when Evan’s mom died. Below are some options that we could have told the twins when talking to the twins about Jake, Sawyer and Evan’s mom:
- We lost Jake. We lost Sawyer. We lost Mom Mom. They are not lost. I knew where Jake and Sawyer were every minute they were alive. I know where they are now that they have died. On a separate point, if they were lost – I would have found them by now (if I had not found them, some one should report me to family services and/or the police).
- Jake, Sawyer and Mom Mom went to sleep. We all go to sleep. Some of us take longer to go to sleep than others. No need to make going to sleep scary for the twins.
- Jake was sick. Sawyer was sick. Mom Mom was sick. Jake was premature. We still do not know what happened to Sawyer. Mom Mom had cancer. We did tell the twins that Mom Mom was sick and the medicine she took no longer worked.
- Jake, Sawyer and Mom Mom passed away. I used this option quite a bit when Jake first died. However, when I spoke to the twins about death – “passed away” did not seem quite right anymore.
We told the twins that Mom Mom died. We told them that she had been sick for a long time. The medicine no longer worked. They both looked at us. Our daughter asked, “Where is Mom Mom?” Before either of us could answer, she said, “Oh, I know Mom Mom is with Sawyer and Jake.” Evan and I could not have given them a more perfect answer.
Rainbows, Rite Aid & Readjusting
March 1, 2011 at 10:54 pm | Posted in Grief, silver lining, twins | 8 CommentsTags: cancer, grief, hospice, mom
It takes both the sun and the rain to make a beautiful rainbow.
These last few days it is difficult to see the sun. As I mentioned in this post, we are spending time with Evan’s mom. The good moments are fewer and farther apart. I know that life has sun and rain. I so wish I could write more about sunny times. Even through the rain the twins can find the sun. Here they are at Rite Aid:
The twins can also scout out the rainbows.
They spent a long time searching for rainbows in these crystal figurines. Turns out flashlights combined with just the right amount of sunlight produce a lot of rainbows.
The oil slick in the parking lot of Rite Aid. I could have debated it is not truly a rainbow but pollution. I did not because I have learned that I usually lose those kind of debates with our 3 1/2 year-olds.
The rainbow glasses at Mom Mom and Pop Pop’s house.
I have always hoped for miracles.
After Jake was born at 26 weeks with hydrops, I hoped he would be among the 30% of babies who survive these enormous obstacles. There was no miracle.
The horrible night we brought Sawyer to the emergency room, I hoped for the miracle that it would all be an awful mistake. There was no miracle.
I now know that there will be no miracle that will give Evan’s mom back the life she had. It is time for me to readjust what I am hoping for.
Sawyer’s Story (part 3): Tuesdays
December 20, 2010 at 12:02 am | Posted in Grief, mourning, twins | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, grief, life after loss, Sawyer
As I previously wrote, everyone in our house was exhausted in December of 2009. The twins were getting better but were still house bound. After a few days we were going stir crazy. Tuesday of that week it was time for the twins to take a nap and for me to feed Sawyer. The twins did not want to take a nap. After reading a lot of books and singing every song I know, I thought I had put the twins to sleep. I finally went to feed Sawyer. I heard something, ignored it and continued to feed Sawyer. A few minutes later the noise became so loud I had to go investigate.
I held Sawyer, who was very calm despite being interrupted during his feeding, as I walked into the twins’ room. There was pink fluffy stuff all over the room. It took a few seconds for my brain to register what happened. The twins opened the doors to two small unfinished storage spaces in their room. Those doors were hard for me and Evan to open. However, not only did the twins open the doors but they went inside and ripped out the pink fiberglass insulation.
Sawyer began to cry because he realized he was still hungry. I was not sure what to do. So, I closed their door. I was pretty sleep deprived. I figured if I shut the door maybe the image of our 2 1/2-year-old twins playing with pink fluffy insulation could really just turn out to be a dream.
Luckily, one of my brother-in-laws was living with us at the time. The twins affectionately named him Uncle Wacky. Uncle Wacky was less sleep deprived and thinking much more rationally. He cleaned up the insulation, watched the twins and saved the day. I went to feed Sawyer and hoped the twins did not dismantle any other parts of the house.
Note: Uncle Wacky took the picture of Sawyer in his sunglasses that is in this post.
When Evan got home from work that night we were all there and still in one piece. I told Evan about our tough Tuesday. However, we realized that our sleep deprived selves could not take too many more days like this one. Evan and I began to discuss some options for more help which could possibly allow us to get more sleep. We also remembered another Tuesday five weeks earlier when we first met Sawyer. Our “Tuesday’s child . . . full of grace.” (a line from a nursery rhyme by A. E. Bray’s Traditions of Devonshire)
It is not “if” we will lose the things we love, it is “when.”
But as we lose, can we not gain a deep knowing that in the presence of grace,
love is eternal?
– – Author Unknown
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