Thank you Jake
August 12, 2012 at 9:52 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, twins, why I write | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, gratitude, hope, Jake, Jewish customs, quotes, Sawyer, twins
“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together
keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”
Winnie the Pooh, A. A. Milne
Dear Jake,
It was 7 years ago today when I was admitted to the hospital. The doctors said there was no other option. You were not ready for this world. I suppose the world was not ready for you. Your dad and I were terrified when the doctor told us my contractions were 3 minutes apart. I could not believe at 26 weeks it could possibly be real. I did truly believe you would live. You held on for 2 more days before we actually got to meet you.
I still cannot understand how it is 7 years later. I do not need a calendar to tell me the time of year. My tears are much closer to the surface. The lump in my throat is back. My irritation and impatience have also risen just below my skin. My nerves are so raw. I wish to lock myself away so that I do not snap. I already have apologized to your daddy. If only just for a few moments I could be with you and your littlest brother. I know that it is not possible. However, this time of year I frequently seem to find myself back on the island of denial.
Your Yahrzeit was this weekend. (The Yahrzeit falls annually on the Hebrew date of the deceased relative’s death according to the Jewish calendar as opposed to the secular calendar.) Your dad and I lit a Yahrzeit candle for you.
You have 2 new cousins! Welcome to the world Eli and Owen!! I wish you could meet them. You probably already know this but your sister asked if she could have one of the babies. She desperately wants a baby brother. She talks about you and Sawyer almost every day. This morning she brought me two blankets she found for each of you. She is so sweet and thoughtful. I am trying my best to keep it together.
Thank you for chosing us as your parents. Thank you for the time you were able to spend with us. Thank you for sending us your baby brother and sister. They are shielding us from all the rain.
I miss you so much. I love you to the moon and back baby boy. I will look for you in my dreams.
Kindness
July 24, 2012 at 8:58 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, normal?, silver lining | 2 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death, Dr. Joanne Cacciatore, MISS Foundation, new not so normal, perspective, quotes
I, along with the rest of the world, do not understand the horror that took place last week in Colorado. There are no words which seem adequate for such a tragedy. The families left behind have a devastating hole in their lives and way too many unanswered questions. Life is not fair. However, a few things I read gave me some hope:
1. An article about the “Tales of Heroism. . .”. “Even as a masked gunman kept firing a hailstorm of bullets in a Colorado movie theater, acts of selflessness and heroism sprouted from all across the room. Three of the 12 people killed died while shielding their girlfriends from the gunfire. And a young woman risked her life to aid her wounded friend, refusing to leave her side.”
2. My friend Kelcey over at Mama Bird Diaries focused on the helpers in the tragedy. Kelcey posted the following quote she found through Ann Imig.
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.” -Fred Rogers
There is so much darkness in the world that sometimes it is hard to see the light. But light, hope and rainbows are there, just some days you have to look much harder than others.
More kindness. The MISS Foundation’s Dr. Joanne Cacciatore started the Kindness Project in 1996 as a way for families to cope with the tragedy of a child’s death. Since then, more than 1,000,000 kindnesses have been committed around the globe in memory of children, gone too soon.
Anyone can participate in memory of anyone!
Here’s what you do:
Visit the MISS Foundation’s International Kindness Project Day website:
www.KindnessProjectDay.org
Right Where I am: 6 years, 9 months, 2 weeks and 2 years, 5 months and 2 weeks
June 10, 2012 at 5:52 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons, Love, normal? | 11 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, grief, Jake, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, twins
I am joining still life with circles for right where I am. Angie started this project last year. She asked other bereaved parents to write about where they were in their grief.
Am I 6 years, 9 months, 2 weeks from the last time I held Jake? Or, 2 years, 5 months and 2 weeks from the last time I saw Sawyer alive? (or I suppose it could even be the 2 or so months since the miscarriage). To be honest, I do not know where I am except right here.
I no longer cry every day. However, there is not a day which goes by that I do not think of them. Now I am answering bittersweet questions and telling their brother and sister about them.
My arms no longer constantly ache to hold them. However, the moments when they do ache are still so sharp and real. I hug their siblings just a bit tighter.
I can now talk about Jake and Sawyer without the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. However, the sadness and lost dreams are still there. Now they are part of me.
Just like the early days of this journey of grief I take it all one day at a time. I breathe. I put one foot in front of the other. I stay really busy. I try to be the best mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and person that I can be. I do not always succeed. Sometimes I cry and the days are dark. I try to hope. I look for rainbows. I love and miss my 2 little boys. I live.
Planning & Hoping
May 22, 2012 at 10:40 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons | 20 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, drugs & doctors, hope, infertility, life after loss, miscarriage, post traumatic stress disorder, unexplainable
Many doctors told me that I could not get pregnant again after Jake had died. We tried clomid, letrozole, IUIs and eventually IVFs. We went to several infertility specialists in town and then flew to New York to get yet another opinion. The doctor we ultimately had the twins with was so sure that I would not get pregnant that Evan and I nicknamed him Dr. Doom and Gloom.
We shocked ourselves and Dr. Doom when I had the twins. We went back to Dr. Doom when we were trying again. He again told us that we had little to no chance. Again, we surprised everyone when we had Sawyer.
Evan and I did not think it was possible to get pregnant on our own until a few months ago. I was late and thought to myself there is not a chance in the world I am pregnant without the assistance of lots of drugs and doctors. However, there it was . . . the 2 pink lines on the pregnancy test.
I showed Evan the pink lines. We both just stared at each other. We were happy. Very, very happy. In all honesty, I did not believe that it could really be true. After Jake and then Sawyer died there is always a part of me which expects the worst but I try to hope for the best. There are so many stories of people who get pregnant after years of infertility. I thought maybe just maybe this could be happening.
Until I started to bleed. Evan and I went to the OB. He confirmed that yes I was pregnant but I was most likely having a miscarriage. He asked if this baby was planned. I wanted to shout that we had not planned for this baby but then again we had not planned on burying 2 of our sons. Instead, Evan came up with the perfect answer, “We were not planning but hoping.”
Frog & Toad
May 20, 2012 at 11:50 pm | Posted in Grief, twins | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, Jake, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
“What is the matter, Toad? You are looking sad.”
“Yes,” said Toad. “This is my sad time of day.”
Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel
After Sawyer died I cried a lot in front of the twins. They were 2 1/2 year olds at the time and did not ask too many questions about my tears. Now, over 2 years later, the twins ask questions about everything and I rarely cry in front of them. The sadness is still there but I have better control over it. Every once in a while it gets the best of me and the tears leak out against my will. Today was one of those days. I know it is not just today – it has been creeping up on me over the last few months.
I know that there will be other days when the tears take over. It is ok to be sad but it is also ok to be happy. If not for me than for them.
The Ocean
April 4, 2012 at 9:28 pm | Posted in Death, Grief | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, fathers, Grandfather, Jokes, life after loss, member of the club, parenthood, perspective, twins, unexplainable, valley of death
I met a bereaved father the other day. There is an immediate level of familiarity when you meet another member of the club. Bereaved parents all have different stories but we have all walked in the darkest valley of death. We have all cruelly defied the circle of life and outlived our children.
It has been 7 years since his 29-year-old son died. The father went on to tell me an analogy of grieving for your child. I am not sure I can explain it as eloquently as he did but I will try.
Grief is like an ocean. At times it is calm but there are always ripples. Other times the water is rough. The ocean is unpredictable. Out of no where and with little or no warning a tsunami will drown you. Over time the waters will calm down again but they will never be still.
On a completely different but still ocean related note, click this link to hear the twins tell their versions of their great grandfather’s ocean joke.
Time Traveler
March 26, 2012 at 10:44 pm | Posted in after death?, Cemetery, Grief, normal? | 6 CommentsTags: dark days, new not so normal, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, unexplainable
I wish I could go back to this moment:
I sometimes do feel like I should be able to beam myself back to the fall of 2009. If I could just hold Sawyer one more moment. Kiss his sweet cheeks. Perhaps all the allergy medicine I have been taking has made me loopy. Or, maybe it is because I just finished the Time Traveler’s Wife. I pray every night that Sawyer will visit me in my dreams. He has not in quite a while. I wake up every morning knowing that I am still here in 2012 and this is our reality:
Surprise it is Spring
March 18, 2012 at 5:34 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, life after loss, normal? | 9 CommentsTags: dark days, post traumatic stress disorder, Sad, twins
“And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on. But on you will go though the weather be foul . . .”
Dr. Seuss
Spring is here. The days are sunnier. I feel quite the opposite of sunny. This journey of life and grief always brings dark dark days. At times I wish I could just disappear into the darkness. I cannot. So, I put on my sunglasses and follow these 2 out into the big world.
Human Doings
March 4, 2012 at 3:18 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, life lessons, venting | 6 CommentsTags: dark days, new not so normal, perspective, post traumatic stress disorder
I have written that I do not necessarily have advice for bereaved parents. I do not have the magic words to take away the pain. However, I do have a strategy which I have used most of my adult life. Being busy. I over schedule. Moments alone terrify me – they are opportunities for dark thoughts to take me over.
I will never forget the dark empty days of January, 2006. Jake had died and I could not fill up the days with anything that would distract me from my grief. Slowly, I rejoined the land of the living. Keeping busy was a huge part of my plan. I worked as much as I could and made sure that I was never home alone.
Right after Jake and then Sawyer died family and friends were around a lot. I am still so appreciative that a couple of my thoughtful friends made an online calendar for me. People would come by or call every day. These days I am usually with the twins or at work so busy is built into my schedule.
“Don’t be afraid of the vacant moment. You are a human being not a ‘human doing’ so just be and consider your boredness. You may be surprised at how it clears the mind (after getting over the initial discomfort) and provides new thoughts.” Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff… and It’s All Small Stuff by Richard Carlson
Today I am not completely terrified of the “vacant moments” but there is still fear. I am still more of a human doing than a human being. I know that there is a balance. I will find it one of these days.
P.S. If you have a free moment will you please vote for brilliantly funny Mamabirddiaries in the Circle of Moms Top 25 Funny Moms contest?
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
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