Things could always be worse. . .
February 18, 2012 at 9:16 am | Posted in emergency room, Grief, life after loss, Love, mourning, venting | 6 CommentsTags: dark days, family, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, post traumatic stress disorder
The other night I was talking to one of my favorite friends and she asked how everyone at my house was feeling. I thought about it and cautiously answered, “Everyone is doing pretty well.” And, I truly thought all was well, until 5 am the next morning. I woke up to Evan asking me to go get some ice packs. He had a bloody nose that would not stop. I won’t go into the gory details but he was a mess.
This had happened once before a few weeks after Sawyer died. Evan had come home from work and after a few hours he could still not stop the bloody nose. He shocked me by asking me to call 911. He was taken to the ER in an ambulance. The bloody nose eventually stopped.
After Jake died I had this realization that anyone and everyone close to me could slip away at an instant. Life had a new kind of uncertainty. I even flipped out when our dog, Buddy, had to be sedated for a dental cleaning. My very same favorite friend talked me down off the ledge as we waited at the vet.
Life seems so fragile. Maybe it was fragile before Jake and Sawyer died but I was oblivious. After Evan’s first visit to the ER it was not hard for me to imagine the worst happening. Only a few weeks before we had buried Sawyer. Nothing is guaranteed.
After yesterday’s visit to the ER I found myself trying not to let my mind go to the worst places. As I drove Evan from doctor to doctor I took deep breaths. I reminded myself of what my grandfather always says when asked how he is feeling, “I could be better but things could always be worse.”
The doctors told us that based on Evan’s blood pressure we were very lucky that it was a bloody nose because there were far worse alternatives. My mind had already played and replayed the worst of the alternatives. Now I will do my best to focus on the present. Unfortunately, Evan and I both know all too well that things could always be worse. He will get better.
Evan holding Sawyer
Doctors
February 12, 2012 at 9:02 pm | Posted in Grief, hydrops, hydrops fetalis, venting | 13 CommentsTags: BS, Jake, new not so normal, perspective
I have been going to the same primary care doctor for forever. I am not sure how many years forever is, but I know it predates my new normal. The doctor who I usually saw retired before I had Jake. There have been so many other doctors in my life. Obstetricians, perinatologists, infertility specialists, therapists, pediatricians, cardiologists, pathologists, I could go on and on but you get the point. I have only gone to my primary doctor’s office a few times over the past several years. After the doctor I liked retired I would just go to whoever in the group could see me. Starting over with new doctors since Jake and Sawyer have died is emotional and complicated. Explaining my medical history feels extremely daunting.
I never considered switching until yesterday. Yesterday I saw a doctor I will call “Dr. H.” His office walls were covered with articles about his medical expertise along with framed awards and diplomas. I made the appointment because despite my best efforts, I cannot seem to get rid of a persistent cough. All I really wanted from Dr. H was a prescription.
As he looked into his computer at my file he seemed to be reading my history. The subject of Jake and Sawyer came up. Dr. H asked about depression and if my husband and I had looked into therapy. I responded “I have got depression and therapy covered, thanks.”
Dr. H went on to comment about Jake. “Ahh, seems that it was failure for nature to correct itself.”
I stared blankly at Dr. H, took my prescription and left. I now wish I had said something back to him but my mind could not process what he said till it was too late. If nothing else, I should have responded with Ann Taintor’s perfect quote “Funny. . .I don’t recall asking for your opinion”.
As I walked out of the office I looked again at the diplomas on the wall. Too bad Dr. H never took a compassion 101 course.
Planning
February 10, 2012 at 8:46 am | Posted in Cemetery, Death, Grief, life after loss, parents, traditions | 7 CommentsThe day has arrived, as I knew it would – Sawyer’s headstone is here. And it is 100% correct. Although I will never think that it is right that we have 2 headstones for our children in the first place.
“The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.” – Tom Clancy
Evan met me at the cemetery and we discussed what we should do next. Planning an unveiling is not going to be on anyone’s top 10 fun things to do list – but we are going to give it a try. I want so badly to be planning a play date for Sawyer – not this. I know that we do not have to do it. There are no rules saying that we must have an unveiling.
I know in my gut that I will regret it if we do not have the unveiling. We will not plan birthday parties, play dates, gym classes, summer camps – the list is so very long of the things we will not plan and do for Sawyer. This we can do.
When you look back on your life, you’ll regret the things
you didn’t do more than the ones you did. -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
Things People Say (part 2)
February 6, 2012 at 10:20 pm | Posted in life after loss, life lessons, normal?, twins | 7 CommentsTags: infertility, motherhood, new not so normal, parenthood
In my last post I should have included the fact that I am positive I have said, written or done the wrong things at the wrong times. Almost every time I call my father-in-law, who is a recent widower, I cannot seem to stop myself from starting the conversation with, “How are you?” I try to rephrase the question as soon as it comes out of my mouth but it is always too late.
Over the weekend, I found myself in a conversation with a woman who is thinking about starting infertility treatments. I feel like I have earned a masters (or at least an honorary degree) in infertility. At first I started to tell her about the injectables, IUIs and the IVFs. Luckily, my brain kicked in before I opened my mouth.
I thought back to my life before the twins were born. Jake had died. There was no “your baby died, now you get a baby free pass” for me and Evan. Eventually we boarded the infertility rollercoaster. The sadness and desperation were all-consuming. Every month seemed like an eternity.
My friend was in pain and did not need to hear about my depths of despair. So, instead of sharing my war stories I gave her the phone number of my doctor. Then I told her if she ever felt like talking I would always be here to listen.
There seem to be endless opportunities in life to say the wrong thing. It is hard to put yourself in someone else’s shoes and separate out your own feelings. We all have different experiences. We start from a variety of places. Who is to judge what is right and what is wrong? All we can do is try our best.
If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.
If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
~Dalai Lama
After I did have the twins one of my favorite friends sent me the link to the video below. It makes me smile so I thought I would share.
The Things People Say . . .
February 2, 2012 at 9:46 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, grief, Jake, life after loss, motherhood, Sawyer
After Jake died people did not know what to say. There would be a lot of awkward conversations which would start like this:
“He is in a better place.”
OR,
“He would have had a difficult life.”
Followed by me either not responding at all or starting to cry.
After the twins were born one of the conversations I can recall started with, “Oh how great, you got your boy back.”
More silence and crying from me.
After Sawyer died there were more statements similar to these – most of which are not worth repeating, writing down or remembering. At first, the comments would make me even sadder (which I did not think was possible). Then the comments made me mad. Somewhere along the way I decided that people did not mean to hurt me. They just have no idea what to say. Sometimes they just say whatever comes to mind first. Or, they try to relate to Jake and/or Sawyer’s deaths with an experience of their own – or something that happened to their neighbor’s 2nd cousin.
I try to believe that people always have the best intentions no matter what actually comes out of their mouths.
I will confess, at times I have wished for a taser to silence people before they say stupid things.
Thank you to Tiffany and Mary for posting this video because it pretty much says it all.
Sunshine and Rain
January 30, 2012 at 11:14 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, normal?, silver lining | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, hope, life after loss, new not so normal, rainbows
Weather is a great metaphor for life – sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad,
and there’s nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella.
~Terri Guillemets
Thank you for all the well wishes. Today was sunny and both of the twins went to preschool. This time of year the birthdays, anniversaries and yahrzeits for Jake and Sawyer are over. The “pressure to be happy because it the holidays” is over too. The dark days are a little less dark.
It helps that the sun has been shining and this winter has not been too cold. There has been a lot of rain and sometimes there are storms. It is all part of life. I wish some of the storms were not quite so severe but no one asked me.
When it does rain the twins usually belt out a few verses of “rain, rain go away.” This brings a smile to my face. If that does not do the trick then I can always fall back on the song Blame it on the rain by Milli Vanilli. “You can blame it on the rain. . .You got to blame it on something” is then stuck in my head for the rest of the day. So, even on the dark rainy days there is some light.
Paranoid Parenting
January 28, 2012 at 11:22 pm | Posted in emergency room, life after loss, normal?, twins | 9 CommentsTags: child loss, life after loss, new not so normal, parenthood, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
I felt my heart racing as I drove down the street towards the twins’ pediatrician. They were in the back seat. I hoped they did not sense my panic. My heart always races just a bit faster when we pass the entrance to the emergency room of the Children’s hospital. I cannot drive past it without thinking of driving in the ambulance with Sawyer.
Confession #1 – At times I have driven way out of my way to avoid this entrance. However, passing it is the only good route to the twins’ doctor.
Confession #2 – I have thought about switching pediatricians just so I do not have to drive down this street all the time. I rule this out because I know that these flashbacks are in my head and I cannot escape them (and I love our pediatrician).
It was the 2nd straight day of high fevers. Pink eye had definitely returned to our house. And, as usual I am completely paranoid about their breathing. Colds, flu, pink eye – it is all part of being a parent. I know this and I repeatedly remind myself that all kids get sick. I try to trust my instincts as a mother. The doubt always creeps in – not matter what I do. I thought Sawyer was fine the night he died. My maternal instincts failed me that night – could they fail me again?
I had begged the sick appointment nurse to squeeze us in Friday afternoon. We were the last appointment. We got the pink eye medicine and an antibiotic. Pulsox levels were good. No irregular heart beats. My panic started to subside. I packed the twins back into the car and drove home.
My Real World (part 2)
January 26, 2012 at 11:23 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, new not so normal, perspective, tragedy
Throughout history children have predeceased their parents. Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln had 4 sons. Only 1 lived to adulthood. No wonder Lincoln was always characterized as being depressed. After the death of their 3rd son, Willie, Mary Todd Lincoln wrote, “when I can bring myself to realize that he has indeed passed away, my question to myself is, ‘can life be endured?”.
Here and here I posted a quote by Robert Frost. He had a brilliant response to Mary Todd’s question.
In three words I can sum up every- thing I’ve learned about life. It goes on. ~Robert Frost
I may have studied the life and work of Robert Frost in high school English class but I do not remember learning that he and his wife had 6 children. Only 3 of those 6 children outlived their mother and only 2 outlived their father. Frost and his wife both (not surprisingly) suffered from depression.
I have always known that Evan and I are not alone in this club. There is tragedy, loss and grief throughout history and the world. It is everywhere. Or maybe it seems that way to me. The rabbi who presided over Jake’s funeral told us an analogy which made a lot of sense to me. He said that death/grief/loss is like when you decide you are going to buy a certain kind of car. Once you make the decision you start seeing the car every where.
Regardless of how common or uncommon death/grief/loss is in the world I have a different perspective since Jake died in 2005. I did not think that my child or now my children would die before me. I thought it was something that happened a long time ago or to other people now it is my reality.
No matter how far the distance you have traveled nor the failures that have gathered, hope would still meet you anywhere. – Dodinsky
Where are Sawyer & Jake?
January 20, 2012 at 4:36 pm | Posted in after death?, Cemetery, traditions | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, Jewish customs, life after loss, what happens after we die?
I do not know exactly what I believe happens to us after we die. I like to think that Jake and Sawyer are with me where ever I go. Perhaps they are with Evan, the twins and others as well. Are they angels?
According to the free dictionary one definition of an angel is “a typically benevolent celestial being that acts as an intermediary between heaven and earth, especially in Christianity, Judaism, Islam. . .”. Every religion seems to offer a different view on what happens after we die.
I go to the cemetery to “visit” Jake and Sawyer. I know that they are not really there. It is just their physical remains which are buried in that plot. I do not like to think about that part – especially in the cold weather. Cremation would have solved that issue for me but at the time I was so numb and just went through the motions of a Jewish burial.
Like so many of my questions about Jake and Sawyer, this one will be unanswered. I have made up my own answer. Jake and Sawyer are in our hearts. I hope that if they are actually somewhere else that they are safe, happy and know how much they are loved. I will always look for them in my dreams.
The Good News & the Bad News
January 14, 2012 at 9:22 pm | Posted in Cemetery, Grief, normal?, venting | 11 CommentsTags: BS, child loss, headstone, new not so normal, Sad, unexplainable
I got a call the other day from the very kind woman who works at the cemetery. She asked me if I wanted to hear the good news or the bad news first. I feel like any calls from the cemetery are bad news but I went ahead and answered, “The good news.” I know it does not always seem like it but I still try to be an optimist.
“The good news is that Sawyer’s headstone arrived.” I did not need for her to tell me the bad news. I could figure out for myself that the bad news is that Sawyer’s headstone arrived and it is wrong. She had already begun to tell me that the headstone has already been sent back and they will let us know any updates.
I do not know what one is supposed to do when their sons’ headstones keep coming in wrong. Do you complain to the customer service department? Do you write to the better business bureau? What exactly are the options here?
Ultimately, I do not know when but I do know that eventually Sawyer’s headstone will be correct. He is not going anywhere so there is no rush. He will still be dead no matter what is on his headstone. I just wish he was with us and there was no need for a headstone at all.
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