Sawyer’s Story (part 2)
November 23, 2010 at 9:38 pm | Posted in father, mother, NICU, parents, pregnancy, transient tachypnea | 6 CommentsThe 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.
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 CommentsTags: child loss, grief
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.
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.
Grandparents
October 25, 2010 at 3:02 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, parents | 6 CommentsMaking 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.
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