The unbirthday
November 20, 2013 at 10:22 pm | Posted in Grief, Sawyer | 7 CommentsTags: baby loss, birthday, child loss, dark days, death of a baby, new not so normal, perspective, siblings
There are many ways to celebrate a deceased loved one’s birthday. This year on Sawyer’s birthday I ran in a race in the morning. One of my close friends suggested the idea. I did not realize at the time that it was a 4 mile race benefiting Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. So, it was a 4 mile race on Sawyer’s 4th birthday benefiting the hospital where he died. Seems appropriate, doesn’t it?
After the race we went to lunch with the twins. We had pie. Not birthday cake. The little girl at the table next to us asked me if we were having dessert because it was someone’s birthday. I said, “Yes, but the birthday boy is not here.”
Next we went to the cemetery where Sawyer’s sister decorated and sang happy birthday. It started to rain. I was thankful that the raindrops hid my tears.
Evan was a bit cranky which is more than understandable when you should be celebrating with your 4-year-old son but instead you are going to the cemetery.
Evan holding Sawyer
My broken heart was glad when the day was finally done (even though I know my arms will ache to hold Sawyer just as much tomorrow).
Sweet Sawyer (& Spam)
November 14, 2013 at 9:18 am | Posted in Grief, life lessons, Love, Sawyer | 6 CommentsTags: baby loss, child loss, dark days, death of a baby, hope, life after loss, new not so normal, thoughts
Last week Evan sent me a very wise email with the subject line “Charlie Brown knows. . .”
If only we could . . .
Miss you so very much Mr. Sawyer. Love you always.
P.S. So sorry if you recently received spam from me again. I have changed my password and hopefully I should be spam free now.
Control & Clean Clothes
September 26, 2013 at 9:53 am | Posted in life lessons, Love, normal?, venting | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, Sawyer, thoughts
I wish life could be a bit more like laundry. You put the dirty clothes in the washing machine, add detergent and wait. After the clothes are clean put them into the dryer. Wait. Fold.
Okay, it is not always so seamless. I have turned a few white loads pink. I will also confess that I have washed more than one diaper. It is pretty messy. However, after shaking out the clothes and repeating the wash and dry cycles everything was once again clean.
Before 2005 there were plenty of situations out of my control but Jake’s diagnosis put them all into perspective for me. I did what I thought were the right steps. I gave birth to Jake at 26 weeks anyway. He lived for 2 weeks but I could not do a thing to prevent his death.
At the time I thought that I could protect any potential future children if they were not premature. I could be in control if I could just keep them out of the NICU. Sawyer’s death let me know loud and clear that I was wrong about that too.
Lately, life seems more out of control than I would like. I just need to realize that is all part of life and hold on.
I think I will go switch the laundry into the dryer.
9/11, The End of the World as We Know it: Anniversaries (repost again)
September 10, 2013 at 5:46 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss | 2 CommentsTags: 9/11, anniversaries, dark days, hope, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, thoughts, tragedy, unexplainable
The tragedy of 9/11 and its’ anniversary are kinds of grief. It is of course, an enormous source of grief for all of the families and friends who lost loved ones. It is also the kind of grief in which you realize that the world as you knew it will not ever be the same.
Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans the week that Jake passed away. A very close friend of mine took her 5-year-old son in for his check up and the pediatrician found a rare heart condition. My grandmother had died. I felt like the world was coming to an end. So, I asked the rabbi who presided at Jake’s funeral about the possibility that the world was ending. He replied with an analogy. He said that it 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. So, my take away from his explanation was now that I was grieving I would start to see grieving every where. . . Turns out you don’t have to look too far for grief in this world. The record 7.0-magnitude earthquake hit Haiti shortly after Sawyer died.
I know that 9/11, where close to 3,000 people died; Hurricane Katrina, where 1,500-1,700 people died; and the earthquake in Haiti, where almost 230,000 people died are tremendous losses compared to the death of two babies. But, those babies were mine. And, my world will never be the same as it was before they had died.
There is not a contest for who has the most grief. I am not trying to compare my losses to these catastrophic tragedies. There are not any winners here. In grief we have all lost. However, there is still the next day and the day after that. And one day, there is a point where we will realize that our loved ones are dead but we are still alive.
I posted the above last year at this time. On the anniversary of 9/11 and every day, my heart, prayers and thoughts go out to not only the victims but to those who they left behind in this world.
So glad to see you September
September 2, 2013 at 10:56 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, Jake, life after loss | 8 CommentsTags: birthday, centenarians, child loss, dark days, death, Grandfather, gratitude, Jake, new not so normal, twins
August is over and Evan came up with a brilliant plan to get through the last few days of it. The last week of August includes Jake’s deathiversary, my birthday and my grandfather’s (there are a few family wedding anniversaries in there too).
Evan planned a trip and we went away. My parents were able to join us. We usually do go away Labor Day weekend to see my grandfather for his birthday. Our whole family for many Labor Day weekends has come together to celebrate his birthday. I know that I am so lucky to have spent so many birthdays with my amazing grandfather. However, this year there was no trip to see him to look forward to, so I had to find other ways to distract myself.
Evan’s plan worked like a charm and these 2 helped as well. . .
One Day at a Time
August 18, 2013 at 10:22 pm | Posted in Grief, Jake, life after loss, Love | 3 CommentsTags: baby loss, birthday, dark days, death of a baby, hope, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, thoughts
Thank you so much for the thoughts and prayers for us and Jake on his birthday.
We are continuing to ride on the August roller coaster of happy and sad days. This weekend had a happy day. Evan‘s birthday. I remember in 2005, Jake was a few days old and I was still in the hospital. The only thing Evan got for his birthday that year was a shower. Life is no longer minute to minute like it was in 2005. However, even today if I think too much about Jake’s birth day and death day, it seems like August is so very dark.
I remind myself not to imagine the 8-year-old Jake. There is no point in grieving over the little boy who never was but somehow I can not stop myself at times. I catch my mind as it wanders to what color his eyes would have been. . .
I remind myself to take it day by day.
Yesterday
March 4, 2013 at 11:07 pm | Posted in after death?, Cemetery, Grief, life after loss | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death, death of a baby, family, grandparents, Jewish customs, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective
Yesterday was the 2 year anniversary of Evan’s mom’s death. It was also the day of the unveiling of her headstone. She had asked that this poem be read:
To Those Whom I Love And Those Who Love Me
written by Mary Alice Ramish
When I am gone, release me, let me go
I have so many things to see and do
You must not tie yourself to me with tears
Be happy that I have had so many years
I gave you my love, you can only guess
How much you gave me in happiness
I thank you for the love you each have shown
But now it is time I travelled on alone
So grieve a while for me, if grieve you must
Then let your grief be comforted by trust
It is only for a while that we must part
So bless the memories within your heart
I will not be far away, for life goes on
So if you need me, call and I will come
Though you cannot see or touch me, I will be near
And if you listen with your heart, you will hear
All of my love around you soft and clear
Then, when you must come this way alone
I will greet you with a smile and say welcome home
We placed stones on her grave. Evan and I had brought stones from Sawyer and Jake’s headstone.
I am so lucky to have had her as my mother-in-law. I will always be here to tell the twins stories about their amazing Mom Mom. I know I wrote in my last post that I bargained my life (and Evan’s) but it was never with the intention of leaving the twins. I was just a desperate mother who wanted the impossible.
Sunshine and Rain (part 2)
February 28, 2013 at 11:24 pm | Posted in Grief, Jake, Love, normal?, Sawyer, twins | 7 CommentsTags: baby loss, child loss, dark days, death of a baby, hope, Jewish customs, kids are smart, perspective
Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement. The rain has stopped and there is some sunshine through the clouds.
When it rains one of the twins usually says “HaShem is crying.” This week, I decided to ask, “Why do you think HaShem is crying?” He responded, “I don’t know, mama. Maybe HaShem is very sad.”
Ever since Jake and then Sawyer died I do feel like the rain is tears. Sometimes I will confess that I am glad it is raining because it matches my sadness. And, as an added bonus the raindrops disguise the tears running down my cheeks.
However, the other twin chimed in with her own answer. “Maybe they are not tears of sadness. Maybe they are tears of happiness.”
Silent and Stuck
February 18, 2013 at 10:30 pm | Posted in Anniversaries, Grief, Jake, life lessons, Sawyer, why I write | 13 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, holidays are hard, life after loss, moving forward, new not so normal, perspective
Sawyer was born right before Thanksgiving and died Christmas night. So, since he died the holidays have been especially hard. If I am honest with myself the holidays have been excruciatingly difficult since Jake died. Pretty much November, December and most of August (the anniversaries of Jake’s birth and death) are not my favorite times of year.
Life is a roller coaster. I definitely got that message. On a roller coaster there are usually some ups after the downs. However, this year after the anniversary of Sawyer’s death there was no up. My grandfather died. My cousin’s partner lost her battle to breast cancer. Funeral. Shiva. Unveiling. Family drama.
Evan is fine now but had a few health issues that once again shook me to my core. I have been stuck. There might not be an up in sight but I have to keep moving forward.
My Ghost of Christmas Past
December 26, 2012 at 12:02 am | Posted in Grief, Love, mourning, normal?, why I write | 21 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, holidays, Sawyer, unexplainable
Dear Sawyer,
This picture of you looks as if I could just pick you up. My arms ache every time I look at it. I cannot believe I will never hold you again. I should have never let you go that night. If I knew it was the last time I was ever going to hold you or kiss you I would never have put you down on December 25th three years ago. If I were holding you would I have been able to save you? Why did you have to go? Will we ever know? So many questions without any answers.
The rational part of me knows that even if I ever do find out why you died it will not make a difference. You will still be dead. And, I will still be alive. The irrational part of me thinks that if I could just understand your cause of death I could protect you. Change the fact that you are gone. The logical me then takes over again and argues that if we knew the cause then we could test the twins. We could prevent other children from dying. The rational, irrational and logical me might be battling it out forever. None of us will win. We will have all lost.
I hope that I can always remember how it felt to hold you. I want to permanently erase the images of you in the emergency room. Unfortunately, they are burned into my mind. Luckily, there are other pictures of perfect little you. . .
Missing you always and forever. I will look for you in my dreams and hope that I can hold you again one day. I love you to the moon and back.
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